This is the first fic I've done based on my own idea in the Puella Magi fandom. The previous one was done for an art trade. This one started in my head with the beginning scene. I had never planned to write it at all. Usually I like making up visual scenes to entertain me throughout the day. However, then I started picturing the ending, and knew I wanted to write out a fic. I never imagined that it'd turn out like this though. I'm really pleased with this piece and feel it's one of my best oneshot pieces in a very long time.

How many years had it been? She looked out the window glumly, wondering about the last time she'd been back. Two…no three years ago. Yeah, that sounded about right. She pulled her jacket close to her, trying to keep the warmth in. The heater on the train did a decent job, but she was still cold. She was a sight for sore eyes and the cold winter season. Her clothes were better suited for warmer weather, and she couldn't deny that her sneakers had seen better days as scuffed up and dirty as they were. Her jeans sported holes in the knees and the cold certainly knew how to creep into places that she didn't know could be cold.

After everything that had happened, she had run far from the problem, from the pain in the end. Being in that place…she couldn't handle it. Rather than admit that, she had done the only thing she knew well- run. She was still bound to her duty, which she performed on the road, but only enough to keep the darkness away from her Soul Gem. She had made a promise to someone, and it wasn't likely that she'd break it. The importance of a promise… she knew that too well. She'd heard enough promises thrown around, words tumbling forth in an enchanting endeavor, but they were all just as easily broken.

The train rumbled along the tracks, but the walls kept the noise away. The only sound of the outside that could be heard was the squealing of the brakes as the train stopped at each new station. Large stations full of life, of bustling people moving to and fro. Small stations where perhaps one or two people waited quietly upon a weathered wooden bench. Or perhaps, no one was there at all. Boots and shoes of all types squished and squelched as they boarded the train, happy to escape the dreary winter weather. Through countryside and city, the train sped. And so did her thoughts.

It had been easy to leave them back then. It wasn't like she had any more connections remaining. Tch. She pulled a stick of pocky from the bright red box and began munching on it. She had been better off alone. Wasn't that usually the case? Alone was how she worked. She accomplished what was necessary without excessive emotion. When she had allowed herself to care, disaster struck, and she wasn't too fond of seeing that happen again. So onto the train she had stepped, destination unknown. She hadn't cared where she ended up, as long as it was far from the painful memories. No one had stopped her from going. Not that they could stop her. Not that she expected them to. Just like that, she was gone.

How ironic that so many people wish to travel the world and see the sights. She'd been there, done that, and it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Then again, that might have been because she'd seen it from the poor street wanderer view, rather than the fancy tourists with money to spare view. Those sorts were easy to spot with their tacky clothing and cameras at the ready. It had made living from day to day bearable.

She'd felt no remorse as she cleverly thieved from them when their eyes were upon some dead schmuck statue as they read the plaque that often explained the person behind the statue. Their mouths had been wide open in awe and wonder…and she was sure that was the same expression they wore when they later found their wallets void of all bills. Credit cards were left behind. She wanted no way of being traced, after all. That was just asking for trouble. Coins were too noisy to take, and she had no use for the multiple types of ID she'd discover.

Every so often, she'd have enough cash to secure a dingy hotel room for the night. They certainly weren't five star places, and often came with cockroaches and other critters, but it was night spent off the street. Other times, youth hostels became places of refuge. All she really needed was a bed in the corner, but she was wary of grabby hands. After all, quite a few were just like her. When neither hotel nor hostel worked, she stayed hidden somewhere on the streets. Those nights… were grim, but at least she could protect herself. She did as she had always done. The time spent with the others… became some glam dream of the past. She hadn't needed anyone before, and she didn't now. She could and would survive.

"Care for anything from the cart, miss?" A cheerful young woman, perhaps a few years older than her, stood by a waist high cart full of snacks and sweets and drinks. Tempting her, of course. The woman was prim and proper, dressed in the bright orange uniform of an attendant. Her smile was so large and fake that it was sickening.

Gesturing to the pocky in her mouth and the box in her hand, she glared. The woman mumbled something under her breath before turning to address the seats in front of her. It sounded like a jab toward teenagers. The attendant never noticed the hand that snaked out and grabbed a bag of potato chips. It was gone long before she moved further done the aisle. The other passengers were too caught up in their own lives to notice. A grin spread across her face. I've still got that touch.

No remorse. Never any remorse. She gave back what she'd been given. It didn't matter that the faces were different. It didn't matter that the location was different. That was none of her concern. She did what she needed to survive. One might call her a youth full of anger. She'd kindly tell them where to shove it. When you didn't have money to buy even the basic of things, you did what you needed to survive. Morals, the right and wrong of the law—these weren't of any concern when your stomach rumbled angrily.

She saved most of her anger for the demons, the unsightly beasts she would slay each evening. They were her relief from the day. They were her revenge. She would not forgive them for what they'd done. When she lost one of the people most important to her, a part of her never forgot or forgave. She fought for the both of them. She fought for them all. It was her duty to push forward, if only to keep her Soul Gem from darkening. She was not the sort to suicide in that manner, nor would she give in easily.

The location never mattered. Wherever she went, there were things to be taken care of. She was on top of her game day and night. The people never mattered. Their origins may have varied and their skin may have been different colors, but inside, they were all alike. She interacted with no one, and let no one near her. They did not understand what it was like to bear the weight of her fate, or to suffer as she had. Did they know what it was like to have a wish granted, only to have it horribly twisted? They were simply clueless, going on about their lives as though beasts and demons never existed. Moving forward as though work and play, family and friends were all that existed. Such a carefree life. So pathetic.

And yet, she found herself heading back to where she'd left from. Back to the pain, the loss, and those who were just like her. Life was funny like that. She reached for another stick of pocky, and placed it in her mouth, sucking on the chocolate. The chatter around her was easily tuned out if she tried hard enough. Eyes glanced toward the window, which had fogged over once again. She used her fist to clear away the moisture and then wiped her hand on her jacket.

"We will be arriving in ten minutes to…" The announcer droned on in a sickly pleasant tone, but she didn't hear the rest of it, her attention back to the window once more. She didn't have to listen to know that she was almost to her destination. Something inside told her it was close. Or maybe that was just her lunch resettling.

Ten minutes to go. Perhaps this was the wrong idea after all. She could just stay on the train and ride on to the next station. No one would know the difference. Not that it mattered. Well, someone would, and she would rather not deal with the consequences. It's not like she cared or anything. She could only run for so long before it became tiresome and monotonous. She would not admit to being lonely. Of course she wasn't. But something had changed.

Perhaps things had begun to change a few months ago. She had been thousands of miles away when the feeling settled over her. She could not explain it, but it caused her to search for pen and postcard to scratch out a short note in her messy handwriting. I thought I'd write. Her name was scrawled at the bottom. It was short and to the point. She knew it would provoke some kind of response, which was all that mattered. She shrugged as she looked over it, and wished the front of the card had something other than a dead schmuck statue, but it couldn't be helped.

The only thing she needed now was postage. That cost money, money that she didn't have to spare. It hadn't been long before she made enough though. A passerby had so kindly left their bag unoccupied on a bench. She had found just enough to buy the postage required. She had written down the address on the postcard as best she could remember. She hoped that knowing the name and general street area would be enough. Without another thought, she had dropped it into a nearby mailbox and went on her way.

Realization had hit her too late that she hadn't any way of receiving a reply. She hadn't thought to include something like that on the postcard as well. Sending the postcard was pointless without something like that to encourage a response. She had cursed her stupidity and tried to figure out what to do. She had no mailbox or permanent home, though she moved back and forth between a few cities at the moment.

A few days later, another postcard was placed in a mailbox. It had the markings of greasy fingertips, as she'd written the note over a meal of cheeseburgers and fries, but it would do. On it was scrawled a simple address at which to reply, if any reply came at all. For all she knew, the receiver had been destroyed by the demons by now. It wouldn't be unreal. It was the designated ending for a magical girl, after all. The address she'd used was to a random post office box that she'd "rented" for a short time. If nothing came after a few weeks, she'd simply shrug off the idea, stupid as it was, and move on without another thought. She wouldn't dwell on the possibilities.

The reply came the day before she planned to turn the key for the box back in. Scripted writing flowed across the page of a long lined letter, writing which she could barely read. She'd never really learned cursive writing. Who wrote like this anymore? The letter still spoke of hope and the future, as well as a determination to survive. It filled her in on events and occurrences in the city. If she held the letter close enough, she could catch the faint smell of cookies. Knowing the receiver, they were homemade and delicious. Almost as delicious as the cakes she made. It made her hungry just to think about them. She shook her head to clear her mind before she became too enamored. Then she went off in search of a bakery. The thought of cake was just too tempting.

The trained squeaked and squealed as the brakes were applied. It startled her from her daydreaming and memories. It wouldn't be long before it would stop in front of the station and everyone would pile off. Already she spotted other passengers around her gathering their carry-ons and other belongings. Voices grew louder as the chatter increased.

"Is he going to be here to-"

"Daisuke! Hold my hand. You'll get—"

"Damn it where's my cell phone? I know it's—"

She would have rather they just shut up. Sometimes people blathered on about the stupidest things. It wasn't a hard task to gather everything together in a calm manner without raising one's voice, was it? Grab and go. Surely they knew that. That's what she got for taking the train. Not that she had much of a choice in the matter though. Next time she'd have headphones. Or earplugs. Anything thing that would block everything around her would do. At least then she'd have peace and quiet. Either that or she would travel on the late night trains when everyone was sleeping. She wasn't too enamored with the thought of traveling this way again.

Enamored she had become apparently because that was why she was on the train in the first place. She scoffed. There wasn't a choice thanks to her. After she had received that first letter, she had continued to send post cards. She made sure they didn't have any more schmuck statues on them either. Scenes of the countryside and cityscape in general were better choices. The postcards were short pieces, and she told nothing of her tales or situation. Mostly she just spoke of mundane things. Observations on people. Observations on her surroundings. Someone reading them would see them as completely boring and empty. Someone reading closely would read between the lines and see something more.

I'd like it if you came back. You'll have a place to stay. Please come home. You won't be alone if you stay with me.

Home. What was a home anyway? If it was what she'd had as a very young child, that wasn't very pleasant. Her father may have been a preacher, but times were rough and there wasn't much her family had been able to do to change it. Her wish was supposed to do that, but the after effects… even thinking of it angered her. People she watched spoke of home. Mostly tourists. Things like the feeling of being home, missing family or pets… if that was home, she probably had that. Not now though. There was no home, just places. Places that satisfied a basic need or indulgence. So what would be so different about going back?

She couldn't say that the request surprised her though. After all, it was the other's nature of course. She was always one to invite people over to share cake and tea and stories. There was a certain feeling one got from being there. Was that "home"? Did it matter? She didn't want pity though and stated so in her next postcard. No. Short, simple, and to the point. She didn't want handouts. She didn't want anyone giving her sympathy. Screw that. She'd rather survive on the streets. She'd take what she needed and take pride in knowing she could do it without anyone else's help.

The request did not die, however. Stubborn was the receiver of her postcards. Though she stated one thing, it fell upon deaf ears. The letters and requests just kept coming. They never forced her into changing her mind, but they weren't subtle either. She was surprised when she received a thicker envelope one day. As she tore into it, she pulled out not only a folded letter, but a train ticket as well. She was furious. How dare she assume anything? Did she not get the point? Her instinct was to rip the ticket into shreds and she wasted no time in doing so. She tossed the tiny confetti pieces into the wind. She smirked as they danced and disappeared in all directions. Feeling great relief she looked down into her lap. That left only the letter, a reply for which was already forming in her head. Why the hell would you do that? I said no. Yes, that would do nicely.

Her jaw dropped when she unfolded the letter to find another train ticket enclosed. It had been folded over so that it wasn't seen peeking from the sides. What was it with this girl and her persistency? Her eyes immediately went to the letter and scanned. Surely…

…and I knew you'd destroy the first so I put the second in here. Before you rip it, read this. I know you're running because of what happened to Sayaka. You're afraid because you loved her and you lost her too soon. And when she was gone, you were alone once more. I'm sure that she wouldn't want you to run away from this for so long. I'd like it if you came back. If you don't show up on the day the ticket shows, I'll know that you don't want to, and I won't bother you any longer. I…

She folded the letter after reading the remaining few lines, placing it inside her rucksack with the others. Her face suddenly felt warm, and she wasn't sure why. There was nothing in the letter that would cause her embarrassment after all. Her eyes wandered to the ticket. January 30 was written beside arrival. She sighed and placed it in the rucksack as well.

What the hell… I have nothing to lose. I'll leave if it doesn't work out. Tch. Stuff like that never does. I suppose I could do with a scenery change though. This place is too dull and those damn tourists never stop coming. It's freakin' winter damnit. Go hole up in your homes, morons.

And thus she had boarded the train a week later, carrying nothing but the rucksack that held her few meager belongings. She hadn't replied to the letter. If she showed up, that would be enough proof that she'd received and read it. She had found herself traveling back toward the city that she was supposed to be running from, and was surprised to find that she was kind of looking forward to it. She'd never let that slip though. No one else needed to know that.

The speakers crackled to life. "We've now arrived at Mitakihara Station. If you are exiting the train, please gather all your belongings and—"

The remainder of the announcement was barely audible over the den of pen grabbing last minute things. She knew that she would have to join them, like it or not. She reached for her rucksack on the empty seat next to her and placed the box of pocky inside, though not before grabbing one last piece. She slung the bag over her shoulder and tried to make her way to the station platform, just like everyone else in the damned car it seemed. Arms and elbows jabbed her body. "Ouch, watch what you're doing, damnit!" she exclaimed, all hopes for blending in out the window as she received multiple glares, especially from the parents. Oh well. The kid had to learn it someday. Why not learn today? She rubbed her arm, knowing it'd bruise. Why couldn't people pay better attention? Idiots. She jostled back the next time, not caring. They gave, and she'd give it right back.

Once she stepped foot on the station platform, she breathed a sigh of relief. No more crowds of people pushing and prodding her. She observed her surroundings, trying to find one person in particular. She shouldn't have been hard to spot. Those twin tails of bright yellow curls should have been easily find in a crowd. It probably would have helped if she wasn't shorter than most of the people around her. Apparently all the tall people had decided to get off at this particular station. What a surprise.

A cold wind blew through the crowd and she shivered, trying to pull her jacket tightly against her and failing. The wind seeping into the holes in her jeans certainly didn't help. Why the fuck did it have to be so cold today? She never considered that she was cold because her style of dress was inappropriate for the season.

"I had hoped you'd come, Kyouko."

Kyouko jumped and turned around to find Mami, dressed up for the winter weather. She was cloaked in a black heavy coat with white fur trim on the hood. A yellow scarf peered out from around her neck. Thick white leggings, a pinstripe skirt, and chocolate brown boots finished the ensemble. It was a sharp contrast to Kyouko's torn jeans, worn sneakers, and thin teal jacket. She shivered suddenly.

"Yeah well… you know." What was she supposed to say? Gee thanks for the pity party? I'm home? Glad you thought I was worth something? Let's go fight demons together? There were too many ways to respond to that question, albeit most of them were heavily laced with stabs of sarcasm.

Mami pulled her into a hug suddenly, causing Kyouko to nearly lose her balance in the process. Kyouko could feel the warmth radiating from her body, and had to admit that the sensation was nice, simply because she wasn't cold. Her arms hung limply at her side. Mami continued to hug her though never commenting on the lack of enthusiasm. When she finally pulled away, Kyouko shivered at the sudden loss of warmth.

"You should have prepared for the weather better. It's been cold for a while." Mami slipped a hand into her coat pocket and fumbled about before pulling a pair of yellow gloves out and holding them out to Kyouko. "Here, wear these."

"It's not like I had any money or anything to buy a coat. Not so easy to steal those either," retorted Kyouko as she took the proffered gloves and put them on. The new warmth was much better than the biting wind against chapped hands. She shoved her hands into her pockets.

Her reply did not seem to bother Mami in the least, just as it never had in her postcards. The girl linked her arm through Kyouko's and began walking toward the main entrance. "I figured you'd be hungry so I made a chocolate cake."

"Tea as well?" asked Kyouko, her question laced with sarcasm. Mami hadn't changed much.

"Tea for me," corrected Mami. "Soda for you." She easily wove through the crowd of people milling around the station, all without the need for added cursing.

Kyouko had no comeback for that one. Mami had remembered her preference. Then again, Kyouko spitting forth the "vile drink" all over Mami's front the first time she'd tried it probably cemented the preference into memory. She had to admit that Mami was putting a great deal of effort into all of this. Just what did she want from Kyouko? Everyone wanted something in return. That was how a deal worked. Hell, why shouldn't Mami want something in return for the offer she'd made? It was a sweet one for sure and those came with a price.

It was at that moment that she remembered a piece from Mami's most recent letter. "You won't be alone if you've got me. I cherish your company, even if you're uncertain about mine." Well, that would be a change of pace. Mami had said that in a few letters, but it had been how she'd ended the letter that came with the train ticket as well. Something about it gave Kyouko a funny feeling, one that she wasn't sure was good or bad.

She readjusted the rucksack on her shoulder to keep it from slipping off, and allowed Mami to continue to lead the way. She would see where this path led her. After all, she could always return to her old haunts and ways if things didn't work out. There was a small part of her, tucked away in the corner of her heart, that wished for this move to be the last. That part…didn't want to run anymore.