The next page was blank, save the very first few lines of the page. Scribbled down information on a specific person. Very much like the details of her own living life, but there were enough differences to still ensure she was talking about a different timeline's very own Sayaka Miki.

Residence: Lives with Mami Tomoe Family, estranged. By all accounts they believe she is dead. Notably more mentally unstable. More violent and aggressive. Grew much taller. Good for her. I've seen alternate timelines of her. They all share a peculiar taste in people. They were all fortunate enough to be cared for nonetheless. Died at 19. Cause of Death: Overuse of magic and fatal blow taken protecting Tomoe.

Sayaka's pen rested against the paper, reviewing those notes. She felt particularly attached to her time watching the actions of that one. She wasn't sure why. Maybe she was trying to root for the underdog, or something. No one would look at her and think she was going to make it that long, much less die of anything but succumbing to the corruption of her soul gem. Nothing kept that young woman going except the intensity of the bonds that she had developed with everyone she met and that she realized care for her more than she could ask for.

She began to write. She couldn't help but feel like she was writing some kind of eulogy, even if that wasn't what she was doing. She was just...writing. Her thoughts on them. What she knew of their deaths. How did they feel? Why did this matter at all?

Another sigh as her eyes shut for a moment. Opening them up again, her tired blue eyes scanned the page before she simply began to write again.

That Sayaka's life was an unfortunate wreck. Everything got under her skin more than it should have. Things hit her harder than it should have. She suffered more than she deserved to. Her mind snapped where it needed to stay together, and once that happened, she had to live with it. She had to live as a magical girl, with that. Nobody in that state should have been exploited for the incubators.

She spent so much of her life accepting that it was safer if she stayed away from friendships and family and love that when she started to obtain those things, it was a struggle to convince her to hang on to them. The only people capable of breaking through that kind of shell were the types to stay by her side even when she began to act at her worst. When she started shoving back and started acting like a monster for the sake of scaring people she was afraid of hurting away. She needed people who would see who she was behind her actions of fear and paranoia.

And, she had them. The special case of Mami Tomoe wasn't one to be forgotten on her. That instance of Mami had become precious to this Sayaka. She was someone that this Sayaka would give anything for, and someone that she even began to change for. It didn't wipe every problem she had away like magic, but she became a supportive bond that this Sayaka could never have made it that far without.

Without even meaning to, perhaps, that relationship reaffirmed a long-dead notion in Sayaka's mind that maybe she didn't have to accept being lonely or sad. Maybe she could love people again and maybe she could keep them close like she used to. Sometimes she felt like maybe the old Sayaka Miki inside of her wasn't dead after all.

What took her life was surprisingly sacrificial, but it wasn't a wasteful action or unnecessary. They'd done everything they could. The only other option at that point was both of them dying. Or Sayaka trying to finish the fight only to transform immediately after. She was on the verge of her last breath, after all. Her soul gem was at its limit. Even if she lived, she would force Mami to end her life when she knew that the rifle-user would sooner choose to die with her.

Her last thought was to spare of her of that pain. She poured all of the energy she had left into a last, strong attack. Every single ounce of herself she had left, she scraped from the very corners of her artificially housed soul, and she poured into one last blow, throwing herself directly at what would be that witch's very final blow as well.

Curious. As horrible as that iteration's life had been, her last thoughts and feelings were surprisingly...at peace. Even if she wasn't exactly at rest. She figured, if there was any good way she would like to go, it was like this. Her attack, killing the witch threatening the person she loved. Her soul gem, shattering under pressure and direct attack, not even given the chance to commit to the transformation it was preparing to take.

Her soul, inevitably finding its way among the odd mass that the angel took under her care.

She wouldn't be here with Sayaka if there wasn't some kind of unrest. Of course she didn't want to die. She didn't want to pass on, either. She didn't feel like she deserved to. She felt guilty and and sad. No matter what kind of redeeming she had done for herself in loving Mami and doing what she did, she could never feel like she belonged with everyone else in their little heaven.

She couldn't linger, either. She couldn't bear to see Mami process the loss. She didn't want to see her sad. She was scared to. She didn't belong anywhere. She didn't belong in...whatever hell existed for her if she hadn't changed.

So instead...the angel ended up giving her somewhere that she could feel she belonged, until they could figure it out together, somehow. If she didn't feel like she could belong anywhere else, even if death, then she could belong here. She didn't have to spend any more time alone and lost and confused. She didn't have to feel like that anymore.

Putting the pen down, Sayaka momentarily lifted her hands to the sides of her temples and squeezed a little bit, trying to ignore the slight warnings of another one of those unusual headaches. She sniffed. Shaking her head, she moved a hand to instead stubbornly wipe at her eyes. She can't tell if those were her own tears or if they belonged to the Sayaka she thought so hard about right now. Her feelings or someone else's? What a daunting feeling.

Gently, she finished the entry and shut the journal for now, leaning forward and resting her head on the cool desk before folding her arms over her head. Tried to find the file of her OWN memories among the many, many others she now had that weren't her own. It was harder every time she tried to do it. Harder to remind herself. To differentiate herself.

"I'm still me. I still know who that is. Right? I know I do. Please don't forget that..."

It surprises her, just how scared she is of the idea of losing herself among this mess. Then who would be there for the ones lost in here?