Time Zero.
How many times had it been now.
The tenth time?
The twentieth time?
Perhaps the hundredth?
Perhaps it was the thousandth?
The answer was all too simple.
She had chosen not to remember.
She had lost count long ago of such things, and simply began to refer to it as X, Y or Z. Or AB. Or any other letter she deemed fitting. She had desensitized herself from feeling the pain, and refrained from remembering her past failures; She had learned, long ago, that counting was an easy way to lose herself in the sands of times long past.
Yet still, methodically, she had to do it. Her life was distorted around it, wrapped around the very idea that this was her destiny. This was her existence now; an endless repetition with only slight variation, to find the combination that would allow her to stop and rest.
An outside observer might take it to be the rambling work of someone insane. One who knew nothing would see nothing and understand nothing. Someone who stared at a murky pool, after all, would only see it as shallow, never seeing the bottom of its dark depths.
She had, she supposed, a few nuts loose in her head. Any other person might've gone cracked from the pressure. For all she knew, she was already insane.
"Alas, Yorick. I knew him, Horatio."
Wasn't that a surprise?
At least someone knew him, she thought. Or at least remembered him. How many times has it been already that she too had heard this?
Beneath her breath, she muttered the words in tandem.
"That was the real line that Shakespeare had said; evidently, it was to be a clever allusion of the audiences to a then-Elizabethan comedian during that time. Shakespeare knew how to play to his audiences well."
An endless nightmare.
How many breaths now until the bell rings?
How many more thoughts of hesitation would enter her head, just like before?
How much more sadness was she willing to take?
In the end, was she insane?
She could only wonder.
Over and over again
The bell rang, and abruptly, the teacher stopped talking. The class began to liven as the teacher sighed, erased the chalk writings on the blackboard, and gave final instructions.
"Be sure to remember what we've learned today."
She will. She will remember; this time here was her purgatory, where she could plan on her actions. This was her resting period, if she indeed rested at all. The lessons taught here not so much things she had learned, but things she had memorized over the course of her repetition. She could recite it eyes closed, and write it on the board.
She was no genius, at least not in literary arts; it was simply a natural result of her work.
She promptly rose from her seat, turned, and left. The class murmured around her like buzzing flies. She could not fault them. Over there, they'd be talking about…
"Hey, you won't to eat out with us?"
As if on cue, one of her classmates approached her. And, as always, she turned her down, firmly, but nicely.
"I'm sorry, but I have work to do. Perhaps another time."
She gave them a small bow, and continued on.
She was a lonely person, but there could be no other hope of success, if she did not do it alone.
She had tried to get help before, but it had not ended well. All too many times, it backfired on itself. They did not remember, and, in truth, usually did more harm than good.
So she had to do it alone.
She was cool.
Clean.
Efficient.
But alone.
Perhaps fate had something against her. Perhaps this was divine judgment.
Perhaps she was being childish about it. Like the flailing arms of a crying child against her bed, perhaps there was literally no way to stop her.
But she had to try.
That was her wish, after all.
She walked down the hall, her steps echoing in the corridor. The patter of her footsteps led her closer to the roof.
What would she find there, she wondered, almost a little curious.
But she dreaded the answer all the same. Is this the end then of her suffering?
It gave her a strange longing, of rest. Perhaps she could let go of her sadness then, and the stone wall she had erected as a defense against pain. Her face twitched a little, fluctuating slightly from the cold stare she usually gave the world.
Perhaps she could rest now.
Perhaps this was how she should have done it in the first place. No death, no sadness.
Patter. Patter.
Her steps on the stairs echoed loudly in her mind.
Oh, was it time for it to end then? Had her true wish been granted now?
Every step added a little excitement to her. Every move she made made her heart race. Standing before the roof doors, she could not help but feel both dread and joy at the possible outcome she was expecting.
Would she not be a Magic Girl?
Perhaps saving Mami was the correct choice then. At least, in that way.
She recalled being tied up by ribbons, vainly struggling against them.
She had them constricted around her, wrapping around her form tightly. She remembered it, as she had all those other times. The first time, it had been nerve-wracking, a terrifying experience of helplessness and dread.
But she knew their true fate. She knew they would eventually be slack, shrivel and die. Their master would die soon.
Right before that instant, the ribbons would jerk in surprise.
And right as the ribbons jerked,
she slowly
and oh so slowly at that, she
slowly
slipped from its threads.
She followed the paths the three had taken before. There was Tomoe-san, her eyes locked in fear at the face before her, the dreadful face that was like a nightmare of a child. A clown face, ugly, lined with sharp rows of teeth. The visage of a toy gone mad.
And there was the teeth ready to gobble her up. Ready to slice her to bits.
She placed her trap, and went back to the ribbons. She aligned herself in its grasp once more, pretending to be shocked.
And waited.
She made sure those teeth were gone, and Tomoe-san was safe. She'd lined bombs along their rows, and as they were about to bite down, the teeth disintegrated. The blonde girl would be safe, and then, perhaps so would Madoka.
She would just have to see and hope, wouldn't she?
Trial and error, she thought to herself. But it had been so many times already.
The idea of rest, and the idea of abandoning her cold persona was both terrifying and appealing.
Perhaps, now, we can truly be friends and continue?
She opened the door, and looked.
There was Tomoe-san, her eyes a-flutter. She was happy (wasn't that a good sign?) There was Sayaka, also laughing.
And there was Madoka, smiling.
But there was something wrong.
D-… don't tell me…
There was something wrong.
The Incubator. Kyubey.
"So Madoka? Your wish?"
"See? Being a magical girl isn't bad," Mami interjected.
N…
No.
This wasn't how it should be?
"That Witch was nothing. I could've taken it, no problem."
"Well, the next one's on you, Sayaka. I have to teach you guys how to do it properly, right? No room for error."
M… Madoka
"Ah, Akemi-san."
Madoka… What was your wish?
"That we could be friends until it ends."
"That's right. Me, Mami and Madoka will save this city from the witches."
F… friends forever…?
"Yeah. Too bad the wish doesn't include you."
And all throughout, the little Incubator smiled, as if in jest.
I… see.
I will take my leave then.
"O-ooh. Homura-san?"
It seems I have failed once more.
A failure… till the end, huh?
"I'm sure she doesn't mean to be that way, Sayaka."
"But she tried to—"
The rest were meaningless words that echoed in a time long forgotten. Homura punched the wall. It was in failure. Madoka was Mahou Shoujo. She had not succeeded. Saving Mami that way had only bolstered their confidence, and prolonged the little fantasy, and in doing so, had driven them to make their own wishes earlier, instead of having them stay clear from it altogether.
A failure.
A failure.
She clenched her fist.
How many times was it now?
No. Do not count.
It hurts to remember.
It cuts deep into the heart, and deep into the soul.
It was a dark thorn in her body, a clenching, wrenching pain inside her insides.
I will save you, Madoka.
I will save you from your fate.
Slowly, and surely, time began to melt the surroundings around her. The walls faded into darkness, the colors winking out of existence. The ground melted like liquid fire, and the sky seemed to fade and distort into twisted shapes, and the stuff of nightmares.
Homura Akemi had failed once more.
But here was another try.
Here was another chance.
Here was another number.
Whyhellothere~
TalkToMoon here. Hope you enjoyed the preview. Dunno when the next chapter will be up, but hey, I love Homura, and I love Mami~
Honestly found the concept of Homura's power(s) to be amazing, and so, in order to properly tribute (imo) the best character in the series, I decided to create a whole story about her.
It's a litle rough, it needs editing, and it needs fool-proofing~
But I'm giving it my 100%
If you liked it, please, leave a message, review, etc etc. Any and all feedback is appreciated.
Good night, take care and till next time!
~TalkToMoon