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This time you catch the 'reverb' of your intervention almost instantly, 'instantly' by your standards. Again, in Buenos Aires: a guy that was mugging someone else suddenly sang like a soprano. It was brief, but it made all parties involved stop, and maybe even appreciate classical music. You whistle, thankfully away from any meaningful universe, and ponder. This time, the change was too obvious.
You wonder what the point of this could be. You wonder why this happens. If you had to hazard a guess, you'd say that this timeline is correcting itself, as if it had a direction. A fate. A target. But that's just a guess.
So to stop guessing and start spitting facts, you zoom into the girl in the trashcan, her tiny butt for the world to admire and learn from; that one is contracting for sure. You wonder if making her find money in it would be good or bad for her. You think you-
When you try, you can't. You. Can't. Letting at least the possibility of that to sink in, you stare, with your golden eyes, at the thin, runic veil between you and the universe of this timeline. Which grows... slightly less transparent by the second. Then blurry. Then solid.
You can't see into this vinyl record anymore.
You. The Goddess of Magical Girls.
Novelty after eons hurts a lot, lot more. Wow. You thought you had it by now; the everything. Now you know it- you never will. That's when it hits you. Hard. You missed your chance.
-there are still Witches in there!
You wise up instantly; no more fun for now. In there, Magical Girls are still struggling to survive, fighting a secret war with the world and themselves every day. When they die, their souls are lost. When they don't, despair takes them.
Yet the record /moves/; it still moves! Holding back a gasp, you backtrack it, slowly, carefully. Lo and behold, before 1957, before the cock-slap that started it all, there is no Witch-like barrier. You can affect it, this world; from here, you can bring the Law of Cycles into this timeline. Free its denizens from the Witches, and allow the Magical Girls a very much-earned happy ending-
-and yet you don't. Your hand is still. Why? You think about it, just a bit. But of course. The Magical Girls of the present, the ones behind the barrier... Any single, tiny little change that you could force into the past...
It would be as if they never existed.
Then an ancient, sacred fear worms its way into your gentle heart, a rational, fair fear: this record could be dangerous. It remains an unknown, an impossibility, an absurd contrast to your very existence. You still your hand, yet. Grinning, you find peace; you've still got cards to play. For them, you will take this chance.
For now.
