Chapter One - Little Things

The summer Madoka turned twelve, she came within inches of losing her life.

She was walking hand in hand with her mother through downtown Mitakihara, having just finished lunch. It was a rare day off for her mother; Junko Kaname had reserved the entire day for her daughter. Madoka remembered being very happy that day, because she rarely got to see her mother outside of the mornings or very late at night those days. She was still very busy today, of course, but nothing compared to back then.

Downtown Mitakihara was well known for being a gathering place for the affluent. Mixed in amongst the blocks of high end designer stores were high rise apartments that had been recently approved by the local government. The people who lived in these buildings were wealthy for a variety of reasons; medicine, politics, business, the arts. But back then, all Madoka saw were the soaring high rises cloaked in glittering chrome plates, like massive raindrops frozen in time.

Unknown to Madoka, one of those high rises had recently acquired a new inhabitant. His name was Maik Guo, and he was a world renowned classical pianist. Not that neither she nor her mother would have known, with their lack of appreciation for that sort of thing. Guo had kicked off a world tour in China two months prior, and was now beginning the Japanese leg of his journey; thus his decision to rent out a floor in one of Mitakihara's brand new high rise buildings.

Much to the landowner's mortification, Guo absolutely insisted that a grand piano be brought up to his floor. And since something of that size had no business fitting into the elevators, they would have no choice but to call a construction crane and have it lifted up and inserted through Guo's balcony.

The landowner tried to talk Guo out of it, but he merely scoffed and said they were lucky he had rented a six foot Steinway instead of the seven foot Bösendorfer he usually preferred. The landowner sighed and went to call the crane company.

Later that weekend, Madoka spotted the soaring crane parked on the side of the street in front of the building. The Steinway was wrapped in a huge white cloth and tied up in all sorts of complicated pulleys. A thick knot of men swarmed around the piano, shouting instructions at one another. A few passerby had stopped to watch the spectacle, murmuring amongst themselves.

"I will never understand these artistic types," she remembered her mother saying. "Madoka, your mother is going to pick up some cigarettes from that store across the street. I don't want you near that stuff, so wait here for a minute, okay?"

Madoka waited next to the Steinway, absently eating a lollipop her mother had bought her earlier. She watched as the men made one last routine check on the piano, then signaled to the crane that it was ready.

An engine rumbled to life inside the machine, and the crane began to lift. Madoka remembered being fascinated as the cloaked piano levitated into the air. She wondered who was both rich and stubborn enough to have an entire piano crane-lifted into their apartment. Maybe money just made everyone go crazy.

Madoka's head craned back until the piano was blotted out by the sun behind it. Shielding her eyes, she vaguely remembered her mother always telling her not to stand around in the sun, less she get a bad tan. Turning on her heel, she retreated to the shadows of an alcove a few meters away, crunching on her lollipop.

What she didn't know was that two of the men who had secured the piano were nursing severe hangovers from the night before. She didn't know that they had merely glossed over the routine check and signaled the crane to lift anyway. And when the Steinway was well over a hundred feet in the air, swaying ominously in the city wind, one poorly tied knot came loose and sagged over in defeat.

The rest happened awfully quickly. One moment she was finishing her lollipop, then next moment a deafening crash exploded across the concrete behind her. Madoka screamed and threw her hands over her head, falling to the sidewalk. The sound of splintering wood echoed down the length of the street. A collective group of screams leapt out of a dozen throats, and then a single, jarring musical note, distorted and warped, the death rattle of a piano that never got to sing.

She was dazed for several minutes from the shock. Junko sprinted from across the street and scooped Madoka into her arms, ferrying her away from the scene. She recalled only her mother's voice from that moment, telling her that she was going to be alright, that she was safe.

She had several splinters in her arms and in the backs of her legs when she got to the hospital. It took hours to remove them, and she cried through every one. Junko sat by the bed and held her hand the entire time, squeezing back whenever Madoka flinched beneath the doctor's tweezers. She kissed her daughter's hair and stroked it, telling Madoka how strong she was, that everything would be okay.

Miraculously, nobody was seriously hurt in the accident. In fact, the biggest casualty was likely Maik Guo's wallet. What could have been front page news was relegated to a small box on the last page of the paper, before fading quietly into obscurity.

But as Madoka lay in the hospital bed that night, facedown so that her splinter wounds could heal properly, she couldn't stop thinking that she had lived simply because she hadn't wanted to get a tan. The Steinway had crushed the exact spot she had been standing only moments prior. Had she not moved, she would have been reduced to a bloody mess on a sidewalk in downtown Mitakihara, mixed in with the ebony and white of the Steinway.

As she learned that day, sometimes little things became big happenings. And sometimes innocent thoughts opened the door to something much deeper, darker, and unfathomable than an arrogant pianist in a high rise apartment.

In the spring of her eighteenth year, her best friend got her first girlfriend.

Sayaka was always the type to dive into things headfirst, so Madoka was not at all surprised that the bluenette beat her in the "first real relationship" category. Her best friend had always been a lot more open about her sexuality than Madoka, who still had yet to come out to her own parents.

She still remembered the day she and Sayaka came out to one another. They had both admitted it in her bedroom one languid summer day, when the sun was setting and the walls were painted in a dark, bleeding orange. Nobody was home, it was just the two of them, but they spoke in hushed whispers, seized by the conviction that they were engaging in something forbidden merely by uttering those words.

But with the admittance came a certain sense of relief, that she wasn't alone with these feelings. In fact, she was elated that she could share the experience with her best friend. Those were days filled with tentative joy and fervent curiosity; though Madoka refused to entertain even the thought of experimenting with Sayaka, while the latter seemed rather open to the idea.

"If it had to be anyone, I would rather it be you, Madoka," the girl teased her, leaning in for a mock kiss.

Madoka laughed and pushed her friend's face away. "No way! You're like family! Kissing you is like kissing Tatsuya!"

Sayaka pouted, crawling across the bed on her hands and knees. "You don't kiss Tatsuya?"

"Not on the lips," Madoka scoffed, lifting one socked foot and pushing Sayaka away.

The other girl sighed in an exaggerated manner, sitting back on the mattress. "Yeah, I know. I'm just messing around. But when I get a girlfriend you're going to be totally jealous. I'll never shut up about her!"

Madoka rolled her eyes. "That's about what I would expect from you."

Sayaka growled and tackled her after that, tickling her midsection. The bed creaked as the two girls descended into a fit of giggles, pressing against each other. But it was platonic; Madoka was fine with that. In her view, doing romantic or sexual things with close friends seemed a little wrong.

You weren't supposed to date your best friend, right? Maybe it was naive, but she had always dreamed of a storybook romance. A magical first encounter; someone who would sweep her off her feet. There was simply no other way she could accept falling in love!

That was a long time ago. She was eighteen now, but she still believed a lot of the same things she did back then.

"Anyways, Kyouko took us to the supermarket for our first date," Sayaka said, back in the present day.

Madoka sighed. That day was well over five years ago now. She had been absolutely enamored by the news that her best friend was seeing someone, and in the second semester of their freshman year at college, no less.

"The supermarket?" She said. "You mean like, a restaurant inside a supermarket?"

"I wish," Sayaka muttered. "But no. The literal supermarket. Shopping carts and all."

"…was it fun?"

Her best friend laughed. "Yes. I was so mad. Kyouko honestly didn't know what to say, but I don't blame her. I had a great time, and I was pissed that it actually turned out to be a great time. Is that the power of love?"

Madoka smiled. "Do you love her?"

Sayaka blushed. "Well, I don't know about that yet…it's only been a couple months. But she's great. I have a lot of fun when I'm around her."

Madoka hummed, dragging a comb through the girl's damp locks. "I'll have to officially meet this Kyouko sometime soon."

"I'll arrange it," Sayaka promised. Madoka made an approving noise and continued snipping away at the girl's hair.

"Is that what the sudden call for a cut was for?" The pinkette asked, using her scissors to soften some ends.

She saw her friend's cheeks color in the mirror. "Kyouko said she likes it short."

It was lunch hour on a Wednesday afternoon. Madoka only had morning class on Wednesdays, so she typically spent the rest of the day at the salon near campus, where she worked as a stylist in training. She was still rather new to the job, having only started it when she arrived at university last semester, so she was only allowed to handle simple cuts for now, like shortening Sayaka's hair impromptu.

Being a weekday, the salon was usually slow during this time. Only one other customer was getting a cut at the moment, at the far end of the salon. Sayaka was seated in the chair by the door, cloaked in a black robe. Strands of soft blue hair gathered in a pile beneath the chair, like bits of the sky had cracked and fallen down to earth.

Madoka smiled to herself as she snipped away. "It reminds me of middle school, having your hair this short. You grew it out in high school because you wanted to look more 'girly.'"

Sayaka's blush deepened. "Yeah, then I finally land someone and she says she likes it short. God might as well have given me the finger personally."

They both laughed at that. Soft indie music played from a speaker her manager had set up on the counter. Madoka felt herself settling into a groove as she wove her way through Sayaka's hair, keeping up a languid conversation with her friend.

Outside, the streets of uptown Mitakihara were as crowded as ever. Countless faces appeared, disappeared, then reappeared within moments of each other. Men and women in suits, children in uniforms, and everyone in between.

They were all going about leading their own lives, lives that she had no idea about. Madoka liked to think, whenever she watched the crowd, that they were all walking towards something greater.

But as it turned out, some of them were walking towards something darker.

A small flock of birds sitting on the sidewalk exploded upwards and caught her eye. Looking back, it was because of this little flock of birds that Madoka saw what she saw. Her eyes tracked their movement to the cafe across the street, straining through a flurry of wings that seemed to move in slow motion.

But her eyes remained still, because they saw someone they recognized.

A tall woman with deep mahogany hair, cut into a graduated bob. A dark business suit and white blouse. Striking features; even in a crowd this thick, she cut an imposing figure.

But Madoka would have recognized her regardless. The fear, the confusion, came instead from the person she saw walking next to her mother.

Junko Kaname was walking across the street with a man Madoka did not recognize, his arm wrapped firmly around her mother's waist.

Then she blinked and the birds were gone, having taken flight. The crowd shifted and swallowed them up, and they too were gone, as if consumed.

"Anyways, Kyouko's like, obsessed with food," Sayaka said. "She once sniffed two oranges that I bought a day apart and could tell which one was older than the…Madoka?"

"Sorry Sayaka," Madoka murmured, setting her scissors down. "Just…give me a second…"

Before she knew it she was pushing her way out the door of the salon and running out onto the street. The bell fastened to the door jingled wildly, and the afternoon heat enveloped her to moment she stepped outside.

"Madoka…? Madoka!" Sayaka's voice receded into the background as Madoka darted across the street, nearly getting run over by a cab. It honked loudly at her, but she was in too much of a hurry to apologize, pushing her way through the ever thickening midday crowds.

She got across the street and emerged in front of the cafe, but her mother wasn't there. Panting heavily, she turned and pushed her way further up the block, standing on her tip toes and straining to see over people's heads. The crowd surged around her, a wall of flesh and clothing.

After one final push she stumbled out onto a crosswalk at the end of the block. She ground to halt and stood there, the crowds splitting and flowing around her like she was a rock in a stream.

Madoka breathed heavily as she turned in a full circle, eyes scanning the masses of humanity. Curious eyes watched her from the crowd. Nameless celebrities and advertising mascots stared from huge billboards placed atop office buildings, and the streets seethed with the roiling heat of a million cars.

But her mother was nowhere to be found.

She bent over to catch her breath. After a few moments the street light blinked to let her know she should get off the street. She turned and began walking slowly back to the salon, wiping at her brow.

In the distance, Madoka saw the tops of the downtown high rise apartments peeking down at her.

Was I just imagining things?

Sayaka was still sitting in her chair when Madoka returned to the salon, reading a magazine.

"Oh good, you're back," she said, closing the magazine and setting it aside. The girl cracked a smile. "You know, I don't mind paying half price if you only wanted to give me half a haircut."

Madoka blushed, pulling out her hair tie and pulling back her hair again. "Sorry…I kind of just lost it for a second there."

Her friend tilted her head. "What happened? Did you see someone you know?"

For a moment there was only the low hum of the air conditioner, and the occasional snip of scissors. The lone stylist and her customer in the back of the room watched her through the corners of their eyes, murmuring to each other.

"I…um…saw a celebrity!" Madoka blurted out, scratching her head sheepishly. "Or I thought I did, anyway. Total look alike! You would have been totally fooled too if you saw him. Good thing I noticed before I said anything."

Sayaka snorted. "Seriously? Who did you mistake him for?"

"Uh…oh, you know. One of those models you see everywhere but don't know the names of," she said quickly, snatching up her scissors. "Anyways, let's get your hair fixed first."

She got back to cutting as Sayaka returned to her magazine. As she worked, Madoka wondered why she had lied to her friend. But what was she supposed to say? What was the truth in the first place? She wasn't entirely sure what it was that she had just seen. It had all happened so quickly, and the majority of her vision was obscured by the flock of birds. She could be entirely mistaken.

Madoka put the finishing touches on Sayaka's hair, then took her over to have it shampooed. After blowing drying it and applying some product, the two of them rendezvoused at the front desk.

"I'll give you a discount," Madoka said, ringing up her friend's total. She smiled sheepishly. "For running out earlier."

Sayaka grinned, handing her a card. "If it means cheaper cuts, maybe I should have a celeb walk by every time I come."

Madoka blushed as she waved goodbye to her friend, who let herself out the door. "I'll see you at home later?" The bluenette asked.

She nodded, and Sayaka smiled before being swallowed by the crowd.

The rest of the day passed without particular event. Once Madoka's shift ended she slipped out of her apron, said goodbye to her manager, and hopped on a bus bound for campus. She sat in the far back next to the window, cheek pressed against the glass. The twilight heat tickled her skin, a chaste kiss that wouldn't let her thoughts rest.

It was rush hour, so it took longer than usual to reach the university. The sun had already set when Madoka exited the bus and made her way into campus, a bag slung over her shoulder. By the time Madoka carded through security and made her way into the school library, an elegant glass covered affair, she had more or less convinced herself that what she had seen earlier that day was a mistake on her part.

The library was mostly empty when she arrived, but that was because it wasn't exam season. Once midterms rolled around people would show up like they suddenly remembered their tuition included the cost of maintaining the library.

Not that Madoka minded; she liked her peace and quiet. She chose a cozy spot by the window and cracked open her notebook and pencils.

Today's study session concerned European history. Centuries ago, Henry VIII was the unfortunate king of England. Though he was married to Catherine of Aragon, he fell for an aristocrat named Anne Boleyn sometime in the early 1500s. Henry could not divorce Catherine for Anne, however, because divorce was forbidden under the Catholic Church.

What took place afterwards was rather convoluted and dense, but Madoka surmised that in order to part ways with Catherine and legitimize his ties with Anne, Henry broke ties with the Roman Catholic Church and established a new Church of England, one which would recognize his divorce. The guy seriously created a new religion so he could end his marriage.

Amusingly enough, that was one of the original reasons why a Catholic and Protestant split existed under Christianity in the first place. Poor old Henry just wanted to be with the woman he loved. And if that meant splitting the entire world in two, so be it, she supposed. She did find it to be romantic, in a warped sort of way. But she wasn't sure if she approved.

It made her wonder how different the world would be, if Henry had never laid eyes upon Anne in his court that fateful day.

Madoka listened to music when she studied, but typically kept the volume low to protect her hearing. So she was just barely able to pick up an audible gasp that sounded somewhere behind her.

Plucking out an earphone, Madoka turned and caught sight of a young couple stealing a private moment behind a nearby bookshelf. The boy had the girl pushed up against the books, a sly smile plastered across his face. The girl, despite giggling in protest, did not push him away.

Madoka's eyes widened when she saw a questing hand disappear beneath the hem of a shirt, then another barely audible gasp. Going beet red, she quickly turned around and jacked up the volume in her earphones, burying her nose in her book.

Really! Doing such things in a library! Some people had no shame.

But then she closed the book, and Henry's caricature stared back at her. Madoka supposed then that people had done worse things for love.

She studied later than usual that night. But she had things to keep off her mind.

Following Henry's death from obesity in 1547, Madoka packed her things and rose from her seat. The library was almost dead quiet by now; even the flirtatious couple from earlier that retired for the night.

Her footsteps echoed forlornly as she made her way down the hallway, past the dark and looming bookshelves. Her earphones were jammed in, volume cranked up. Something caught her attention through the corner of her eye; her own reflection, walking alongside her in the row of glass windows.

Madoka came to a slow stop, staring at herself in the window. Beyond her caricature, city lights danced outside like forgotten dreams. It occurred to her that she didn't remember most of her dreams. But the ones she did remember were stuck inside her forever, impossible to erase.

She couldn't stop thinking about what she had seen earlier that day. Any self convincing she had accomplished before melted away beneath the grip of night. It replayed in her mind like a film reel scorched across the backs of her eyeballs. The heaving of the crowd; her mother's unmistakable outline. And then the arm, so foreign and unexpected and unfathomable, snaking around the woman's waist.

Who was he? Why was he? Once she accepted what she had seen, the questions came forth like a vengeful storm. Was it all really just a misunderstanding? She had seen what she had seen, but she could have interpreted it incorrectly. But how else was she to interpret what she'd witnessed? For what other reason did two people hold each other in that manner?

Could she ask her mother about it?

Madoka blinked and realized her face was contorted in the window. Shaking her head violently, she turned and walked hurriedly down the hall.

The echo of her shoes against the floor. They reminded her vaguely of the hollow noise a piano key makes when pressed. The image of that demolished Steinway flickered within the recesses of her mind.

Maybe if she had done a better job of convincing herself, she wouldn't have dawdled by the window that night. And if she didn't, perhaps she wouldn't have seen what she then saw.

But sometimes little things became big happenings. Such was the legacy of Maik Guo.

Madoka reached the end of the hall and called the elevator. As she waited impatiently, tapping her finger against her thigh, the song she was listening to ended.

The silence it left behind was quickly filled. The sound of soft crying, anguish barely held back.

Turning her head to the side, Madoka saw her.

A beautiful raven haired girl was sitting on the floor against a bookshelf, a thick book clutched against her chest as she wept.

For some indescribable reason, those tears took Madoka back to the summer she turned twelve.

It certainly has been a long time since I last posted on here. It feels weird to be back, but good, and I'm excited to be working on another multichapter fic for this fandom.

The long and short of my return is as follows: I haven't written anything longer than a thousand words in more than a year, and I decided it was time to get back into the game. Fanfiction is a good place to start, I think, because it'll let me get back into the groove of things without too much pressure. This chapter alone is the longest thing I've written in ages. You might notice I'm not cranking out 15,000 word chapters anymore, because my stamina just isn't there yet!

This story is a college AU that has little to do with canon. Following Silent Melody, I want to write a very different story with characters I neglected in the past, namely Madoka and her mother Junko. I think my writing style has changed a lot over the years, and I may not be as naturally comfortable writing fanfic as I once was, but I hope you will all bear with me.

Thank you for reading my work!

-Banshee