In an alternate universe where dimensions collide like poorly shuffled cards, Tanya Degurechaff, the pint-sized war machine from The Saga of Tanya the Evil, found herself inexplicably plopped into the pastel-hued streets of Mitakihara City. She adjusted her officer’s cap, her sharp blue eyes narrowing at the sight of schoolgirls giggling over ice cream cones. “What is this saccharine hellhole?” she muttered, her voice dripping with the disdain of someone who’d rather be calculating artillery trajectories than dodging friendship bracelets.
Nearby, Madoka Kaname, the soft-hearted heroine of Puella Magi Madoka Magica, was mid-conversation with her soul gem, contemplating the weight of her cosmic responsibilities. She turned at the sound of Tanya’s boots clicking on the pavement, her pink twin-tails bouncing as she tilted her head. “Oh! Are you lost? You look like you’re from… um, a war movie?”
Tanya’s lip curled. “Lost? I’m a lieutenant colonel of the Imperial Army, not some damsel wandering a battlefield. And you—what are you, a walking cotton candy advertisement?”
Madoka blinked, unfazed by the venom. “I’m a magical girl! I fight witches to protect everyone. It’s my duty, even if it’s hard sometimes.” She clasped her hands, her eyes shimmering with earnest resolve.
“Duty?” Tanya scoffed, crossing her arms. “Let me tell you about duty, frills-for-brains. Duty is clawing your way up the ranks while Being X—that smug, divine meddler—tries to smite you for not groveling. You’re out here playing dress-up with sparkles while I’m optimizing troop efficiency under gunfire.”
Madoka frowned, her innocence clashing with Tanya’s cynicism like a kitten facing a buzzsaw. “But… don’t you ever want to save people? To make the world better?”
“Save people?” Tanya barked a laugh, sharp and mirthless. “I save myself. The world can burn if it means I outsmart that cosmic tyrant. You’re delusional if you think self-sacrifice wins wars—or anything else.”
The two stood there, a study in opposites: Tanya, the ruthless pragmatist who’d sell her soul (if she hadn’t already) to spite a god, and Madoka, the altruist who’d rewrite reality to spare her friends’ tears. Yet, as they bickered, a shadow loomed overhead—a witch’s labyrinth unfurling like a nightmare kaleidoscope, courtesy of Madoka’s universe. Tanya’s hand flew to her rifle, her grin feral. “Finally, something worth shooting.”
“Wait!” Madoka cried, summoning her bow. “We have to work together! Witches aren’t like soldiers—they’re despair given form.”
“Despair, huh? Sounds like my Monday mornings,” Tanya quipped, already levitating with her magic. She fired a barrage of glowing bullets into the labyrinth, her precision terrifyingly flawless. Madoka, meanwhile, loosed arrows of light, her gentle determination weaving through Tanya’s chaos. The witch—a grotesque amalgam of clocks and bayonets—shrieked as their combined assault tore it apart.
As the labyrinth dissolved, Tanya landed with a smirk. “Not bad, pinkie. You’ve got some firepower under that fluff.”
Madoka smiled shyly. “And you’re really brave, even if you’re kind of scary. Maybe we’re not so different.”
Tanya snorted. “Don’t get sentimental. I’m not here to braid your hair.” But her eyes glinted with a grudging respect—until a stray thought struck her. She squinted at Madoka, then at herself, as if hearing an echo. “Hold on. Your voice… it’s eerily familiar. Like I’ve heard it barking orders in a past life.”
Madoka giggled, covering her mouth. “Yours too! It’s like I’ve heard it wishing for hope somewhere.”
They paused, the absurdity dawning. Tanya groaned, pinching her nose. “Oh, for—don’t tell me. We’re both stuck with the same voice actress, aren’t we? What’s next, she’s narrating this nonsense too?”
Madoka laughed, a sound like bells, while Tanya muttered about “overworked vocal cords ruining immersion.” Somewhere, in a recording booth beyond the fourth wall, Aoi Yuuki sipped her tea, chuckling at the cosmic joke of voicing both a warlord and a savior—and wondering if her next role would be narrating their inevitable rematch.
Nearby, Madoka Kaname, the soft-hearted heroine of Puella Magi Madoka Magica, was mid-conversation with her soul gem, contemplating the weight of her cosmic responsibilities. She turned at the sound of Tanya’s boots clicking on the pavement, her pink twin-tails bouncing as she tilted her head. “Oh! Are you lost? You look like you’re from… um, a war movie?”
Tanya’s lip curled. “Lost? I’m a lieutenant colonel of the Imperial Army, not some damsel wandering a battlefield. And you—what are you, a walking cotton candy advertisement?”
Madoka blinked, unfazed by the venom. “I’m a magical girl! I fight witches to protect everyone. It’s my duty, even if it’s hard sometimes.” She clasped her hands, her eyes shimmering with earnest resolve.
“Duty?” Tanya scoffed, crossing her arms. “Let me tell you about duty, frills-for-brains. Duty is clawing your way up the ranks while Being X—that smug, divine meddler—tries to smite you for not groveling. You’re out here playing dress-up with sparkles while I’m optimizing troop efficiency under gunfire.”
Madoka frowned, her innocence clashing with Tanya’s cynicism like a kitten facing a buzzsaw. “But… don’t you ever want to save people? To make the world better?”
“Save people?” Tanya barked a laugh, sharp and mirthless. “I save myself. The world can burn if it means I outsmart that cosmic tyrant. You’re delusional if you think self-sacrifice wins wars—or anything else.”
The two stood there, a study in opposites: Tanya, the ruthless pragmatist who’d sell her soul (if she hadn’t already) to spite a god, and Madoka, the altruist who’d rewrite reality to spare her friends’ tears. Yet, as they bickered, a shadow loomed overhead—a witch’s labyrinth unfurling like a nightmare kaleidoscope, courtesy of Madoka’s universe. Tanya’s hand flew to her rifle, her grin feral. “Finally, something worth shooting.”
“Wait!” Madoka cried, summoning her bow. “We have to work together! Witches aren’t like soldiers—they’re despair given form.”
“Despair, huh? Sounds like my Monday mornings,” Tanya quipped, already levitating with her magic. She fired a barrage of glowing bullets into the labyrinth, her precision terrifyingly flawless. Madoka, meanwhile, loosed arrows of light, her gentle determination weaving through Tanya’s chaos. The witch—a grotesque amalgam of clocks and bayonets—shrieked as their combined assault tore it apart.
As the labyrinth dissolved, Tanya landed with a smirk. “Not bad, pinkie. You’ve got some firepower under that fluff.”
Madoka smiled shyly. “And you’re really brave, even if you’re kind of scary. Maybe we’re not so different.”
Tanya snorted. “Don’t get sentimental. I’m not here to braid your hair.” But her eyes glinted with a grudging respect—until a stray thought struck her. She squinted at Madoka, then at herself, as if hearing an echo. “Hold on. Your voice… it’s eerily familiar. Like I’ve heard it barking orders in a past life.”
Madoka giggled, covering her mouth. “Yours too! It’s like I’ve heard it wishing for hope somewhere.”
They paused, the absurdity dawning. Tanya groaned, pinching her nose. “Oh, for—don’t tell me. We’re both stuck with the same voice actress, aren’t we? What’s next, she’s narrating this nonsense too?”
Madoka laughed, a sound like bells, while Tanya muttered about “overworked vocal cords ruining immersion.” Somewhere, in a recording booth beyond the fourth wall, Aoi Yuuki sipped her tea, chuckling at the cosmic joke of voicing both a warlord and a savior—and wondering if her next role would be narrating their inevitable rematch.