Story 10: The Death Of Sayaka Miki

The apartment is in shambles from door to living room. The door is forlorn, a wide arching blood splatter on frame and floor. Sword slashes run deep into the wood, splinters litter the floor and blood soaks the rugs. Some wall hangings lay on the ground, bumped off their perches. Where the love seat use to sit, now lay an oddly breathing, blue haired girl with a gold sword jutting out from her like a skyscraper. Off to the side stands another, calmly breathing.

She is stabbed into the wooden floor with a sword, her living room ceiling the only scenery. She is dying. Her aggressive regeneration is unable to cope. She can feel the blade in her chest, so close to her still alive heart, the feeling somehow alien to her. It must've knicked it, the beating pace irregular. It is actually in her left lung, her breathing harsh and painful.

Her thoughts turn toward Kyousuke Kamijou, the man she had a hopeless crush for. Her former friend, Hitomi Shizuki, took him away from her right under her nose. The pain was severe, then. Now, not so much. She moped her days away. Her entire thought process had gone into that prematurely greyed individual. And she received no compensation for her misery. Hitomi didn't apologize or grovel for forgiveness. Kyousuke didn't return her affections.

She thinks of Kyoko Sakura, her beloved, her... savior. The one that saved her from despairing, the one that genuinely loves her and accepted her for every flaw she possesses. Their relationship wasn't perfect. Far from it, and most of it thanks to her. Even though Kyoko showed irritation at her, she always accepted her back when she calmed down. She smiles. She didn't ever deserve that girl, in any life.

Highlighted by the lamps, The Murderer steps into sight. Hairband holding back the short black hair, a dark purple and white triangular collar, red rimmed glasses. Blood caked her face like war paint. Ivory shined down at her. The image of the Murderer. She snarls, gathering enough blood and saliva to fruitlessly spit at her, the glob landing right back on her. The Murderer didn't care, a whimsical homicidal grin dancing on her lips. Her black eyes drink in all light.

"For my love." The Murderer murmurs, taking the golden blade and cleaving it through her heart. She passes out from the pain. Sayaka Miki's last thought is of Kyoko's face, very near hers, her cheeks as red as her eyes, a roguish smile and a twinkle of love. A strand of saliva bridging their lips. Their first kiss dies within her mind, with everything else.