The rooftop’s twilight fades into dusk, Sayaka’s swords planted blade-down beside her as she kneels, catching her breath. Her Soul Gem flickers unevenly, its light dimming. She stares at the city skyline, voice a mix of resolve and quiet frustration.

She runs a hand over her barrettes, adjusting one absently. Another witch down… but it’s never enough, is it? Her laugh is hollow, eyes narrowing at the horizon. You’d think saving people would get easier. Instead, it’s just… more questions.

She stands abruptly, gripping a sword hilt. Madoka’s smile, Kyōsuke’s violin, Homura’s warnings… How’m I supposed to balance it all and stay “the hero”? A beat. She sheathes the blade, muttering. Guess I’ll just keep running forward until something breaks.