I
Puella in Somnio, Verum Exquiere
"This garden is beautiful, isn't it Alice?" the Woman asked.
Yes. This garden was beautiful. Rows of silver roses, a field of red Spider Lilies as far as the eye could see. Corinthian columns lined a cobblestone path, reminiscent of the old mythology stories she liked to read when she was little. It led to a glass table where a posh tea party was about to commence, where nobody waited but a particularly fine set of china. The sky was a painted stark blue, brushstroke clouds in Van Gogh's reality. A cool breeze brushed her nose, carrying the flowers' mildly sweet scent.
Alice could not remember the reason why she was here, but it was a very important reason. She didn't even have her friend by her side. She would have called her first, but the Woman had led her here upon such short notice. It seemed that having tea with her put the whole world at stake.
"Um… It is. It really is," Alice answered out of politeness.
The Woman wasn't even a woman in the physical sense. She looked roughly the girl's age, a pale-skinned beauty with long ebony hair. She wore a school uniform Alice must have seen somewhere before, but the most noticeable feature she had was her earring: a long black one shaped like a salamander. Despite this girl's appearance, something about her, the way she walked, the way she conducted herself, the way she spoke, evoked an image of a wise but world-weary woman. There was no choice but to call her a woman.
"I made this garden myself," she said, clearly pleased with Alice's answer despite its terseness. "Took me a hundred years."
A hundred years to make a garden? Surely a garden wouldn't take a hundred years to plant and grow. Alice's own garden took only one year, so why a hundred? Did she plant all of those lilies one by one herself? Ridiculous. This must be a dream of sorts, the girl concluded. A strangely lucid one at that.
"Take a seat," the woman beckoned her to a chair opposite her at the table. "Please."
A warm cup of Jasmine tea was already waiting for her, and its aroma invited her to take a sip. But its appearance had brought the girl a pang of suspicion. The Woman had not yet answered any of the questions she had in her head. What if this cup was poisoned? It suddenly became important that Alice knew whether it had poison or not. Before she would even take one sip, she had to know whether it was safe. "What is in this cup, if I may ask?"
"Oh, the cup? Well tea, of course." the Woman smiled. "I know that Jasmine is your favorite."
Despite her words, there was something that bugged the girl in the back of her head. Something was in this cup. Something someone had put in there to kill her.
"Don't try to fool me," Alice said brazenly. She had never been this brusque before to anybody, but her life was at risk. What choice did she have? "I know there is poison in this cup. You put it in there, didn't you?"
The Woman seemed genuinely confused. "I do not know what you are talking about," she asked in a childish lisp, a hint of irony laced between the syllables. "It is just regular Jasmine tea. I wouldn't know what you would put in there, though."
What Alice would put in there? "I just got here," she protested. "There's no way I could have put anything in that cup."
"That doesn't mean that another you put it in there before you came," said the Woman. "Don't you think that is possible?"
Another her? That was crazy. There couldn't be any other Alice than Alice. As long as she was concerned, Alice was the only Alice in existence. The Woman wasn't making any sense. "What are you talking about?"
The Woman smiled. "See for yourself. Toss the tea out and see what is inside."
She spilled the tea into a rosebush, and Alice looked into the cup. There was a Spider Lily inside, glowing red in full bloom, and it was obvious that it was there while the cup was being filled. But Red Spider Lilies were poisonous—so wouldn't that mean that there was poison in this cup?
She gasped. "You are trying to kill me."
"Why would I try to kill you, Alice? Maybe you are trying to kill yourself."
The Girl remembered something else. "My name isn't Alice."
"Is it not now?" Again, the Woman had genuine confusion written all over her face. "You just told me your name was Alice. Maybe the You who called herself Alice was the one who put that flower in your cup."
"Don't be ridiculous; what is my name?"
"Would it even be important if you knew your name?" the Woman tilted her head to one side, adding to the effect of her confusion. "Is the world so contrived that you need to know all of the details, despite knowing that you will not be able to change a thing?"
The Girl stood from her chair. "What are you talking about? Stop it with the nonsense and tell me my name!"
"Honestly, if I could tell you your name, I would have done so already. But Fate isn't letting me."
"What does Fate have to do with all of this?"
"Why, Fate has to do with everything," the Woman said, also standing up, picking a Red Spider Lily from her teacup. "Us beings intertwined with time, we have no choice but to act with what Fate demands."
"Beings intertwined with…?" None of it was making sense, but somehow, at the same time it was. "And Fate told you not to tell me my name?"
"Yes, but in fairness Fate told me to tell you a lot of other things. And among them, I will tell you this: Someone will bring you this flower, and Fate will have you do a certain something. It will be inevitable. You can never run away from it. But remember that that person can never run away from it too. Fate will also have that person do a certain something. It has already been decided; inclinations will naturally lead you there. It's amazing, really. It's the illusion or free will... Or should I say perversion of free will? Ha-ha."
A certain something. You can never run away from it. The Perversion of Free Will. To the girl, all of them were groups of buzzwords with no meaning at all. Did they even have to have a meaning? Was the world just throwing words around, hoping somebody would be able to impose their own logic onto it and see what it really meant? Was there any true meaning to anything at all?
"Who… Who are you?" the girl couldn't help but asking.
"Have you heard of the Wind-Up Bird?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Then that is I," the Woman said. "I am the Wind-Up Bird. I wind the world's spring. I am the loneliest bird in the world."
As the Woman said these words, the garden changed. The Corinthian columns aged rapidly, going through millennia of ruination in just split seconds. The blue sky metamorphosed into a hideous copper yellow, and the fields of Spider Lilies and bushes of Silver Roses faded into dust, revealing a vast desert. From the Woman's back, two great wings of Ebony spread out, just like Icarus of old as he flew towards the sun.
"There are many stories about how I became the Wind-Up Bird. This one has a very big twist in the end. I believe you won't like it, though. In fact, I doubt that anybody will."
Xxx^.^xxX
That morning, Kirika wanted to prepare Oriko's morning tea for once. Her best friend was always the one who prepared tea in the morning, following her duty to a degree of religiousness seen only in Buddhist monks. It was the least she could do for Oriko. In the light of everything the girl had done for her, Kirika would have given her the whole world. But a cup of tea was all she could afford, a symbolic 'thank you' saying that at least Kirika appreciated their friendship.
The Mikuni residence was always peaceful in mornings, the kitchen most of all. It was the type of quiet place that was not really quiet, but filled mostly with peaceful sounds. Birds chirping, teacups tinkling in contact with a saucer, even the bubbling noises inside the electric kettle seemed to have some sort of solemn meaning. Kirika liked these sorts of sounds. She would close her eyes, and in the darkness she would see colorful swirling patterns moving rhythmically to the beat, like how water made ripples according to the dictates of rain.
This is peace, she would subconsciously whisper in her lips, before catching herself and think that it was so weird to do that. Oriko wouldn't mind though. She liked Kirika being like that. And Oriko's words were all that she needed.
A lilac sky of the early morning lit the windows, sending warm hard beams into most nooks and crannies with waffle-shaped shadows. Or at least, that was how Kirika saw them. She had the weirdest perception of most things. In these lights she saw two pink and furry slippers step in from the living room, belonging to a girl dressed in a virginal white night gown. She looked up, and saw Oriko smiling lightly. It seemed that whatever face Kirika made upon her arrival, her best friend found it slightly amusing.
"Good morning," she whispered, eyes still half-veiled in the land of sleep before inching her way to the glass kitchen table.
"Hey," was all Kirika said. Time to act cool.
She lowered herself onto a seat. "You're here early."
"Yeah, with your dad always leaving in the mornings, I might as well." The toast points were done, strawberry jam jar open, the tea warm and Earl Grey. Just like how Oriko liked them. Now to put them on the tray… "By the way, he approves of our marriage now, so…"
Oriko's smile turned into a soft chuckle when she heard the last part.
Kirika made a fist pump in her head. She knew that was a good joke!
"So, papa has already left, huh?" Oriko asked, now sounding like she was contemplating something.
"Yup, said something about doing stuff at work; I can't remember. He said you should call him later though."
"He always gets worried like that…" Half of the message had already registered in Oriko's mind when she saw Kirika doing something by the cupboard. Curious, she craned her head a little to see what was going on, before smiling at the cute thing her friend was doing. "Oh, you've made breakfast."
"Surprise, surprise," she said, lifting the tray up, and then showing it to Oriko with a little twirl, careful not to spill the contents. "You've always been making it yourself, so when you slept in today I decided, well…" She trailed off, afraid of saying something Oriko might think of as strange.
She must have been making a face again because Oriko made another one of her princess-like chuckles.
It made Kirika feel a little self-aware. Why does she always chuckle like that? Was Kirika doing something weird? "Um, Oriko… Is there something on my face?"
But the girl merely waved her hand and beckoned her to sit. "No, no, just get the tray down and let us eat."
She nodded, and when the tray was down and all the toast points and cups of tea were divided among them, the engaged in a little small talk. Some anecdotes about the weather, how the Student Council Elections were going, how little Yuma was doing, pleasant words and subtle banalities that Kirika actually liked. Back then she would hear her classmates talk about who were the hottest boy bands, who went where, and how so and so hid the fact that she had a boyfriend. She would hate these conversations because they didn't mean anything at all. They were just noises that used up the Oxygen in the air and threatened to puncture the Ozone with their putrid Carbon Dioxide. It was just the pretentious game of friendship people liked to play with each other a lot when they were bored.
But now she knew why people did this kind of talk: It felt good, and on top of that it felt normal. Who knew that talking about how one liked sunny days would make them look more human than talking about the meaning of being human itself? Suddenly, a clink of a teacup being lifted reminded Kirika to quit being so profound.
The moment of truth had come. Oriko was going to sample some of the tea she had made. As her best friend observed the cup of Earl Grey with her seemingly calculative eyes, Kirika held her breath, anxiously waiting for the verdict. Her eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets, staring at the teacup's edge inching its way to Oriko's lips. Once she tasted it, what would she think?
Whatever Oriko would say, Kirika wouldn't mind. Besides, her friend was forgiving on most subjects. That one time Kirika botched the Banana Loaf she made for her, all Oriko did was smile despite the burn marks on the bread. When she made Eggs Benedict, all Oriko said was that next time she should leave the shells out. When she prepared some Nattou for dinner one time, Oriko said that she hated Nattou but appreciated Kirika's effort. Surely, she'll forgive Kirika this time too, right?
No, Kirika made sure that this tea would be perfect. There was a whole science devoted to making perfect tea, and she studied and developed her skills in this craft to near perfection. Last night, she googled tea preparation, perfect water temperature and everything; this has to be the most perfect cup of tea to exist!
Oriko took a sip, regarded the cup for a while, and then spread a little bit of jam on a toast point. "So, she's going to come along for our tea party today, right Kirika?"
Kirika felt the blood drain completely from her face.
"We should probably clean the house first," Oriko continued.
No reaction.
"We cannot let her walk around and say, 'Oh, there's dust over there. How discomforting.' Right? Who knows what her mother would say."
Oh God, no reaction.
"That lady is always so kind to us; always makes us lunch whenever we're there…" Oriko seemed to be lost in thought with her little memory, but something had stopped her abruptly, brought her back into the world. "But you know, Kirika, there's… something I'd like to tell you, really."
Was her tea so horrible that Oriko simply ignored its horridness to forgive her best friend?
Oriko bowed her head, a lock of her beige hair obscuring her face. "I don't want to impose, but I hope you have the time to listen..."
This cup of tea is so horrible, but Kirika's my best friend. I'll just drink it and say nothing. She might not notice anyway. I'll just wash the defilement away with a cup of my own tea later. But still, I feel so… dirty.
Kirika picked up something sharp from the table. "THAT'S IT; I'M GONNA KILL MYSELF!"
"You see, I had a dream last night…" Oriko crinkled her eyebrows at the disturbance. "Wait—What?"
"I am in despair!" Kirika stood up with best foot forward, with the flourish of an opera performer in the throes of a Shakespearean death. "Making horrible tea for Oriko has left me in despair!"
As Oriko watched the scene unfold before her, she noticed a little detail that made her raise a finger. "Um, Kirika…"
Kirika held whatever sharp thing she had with both hands, priming to thrust it downwards with a finality of the last episode in a cancelled TV series. If she was going to kill herself, then she had to stab herself in the heart for a quick and easy death!
"Kirika, can you hear me…?"
I never wanted to be like this, Kirika thought to herself in her final moments. All I wanted was to be Oriko's girl… best friend!
"Erm, Kirika, there is something you might like to know..."
Well, maybe girlfriend, sure, but… Wouldn't that be wrong? Girls can't love girls, right? But... what was that line again, 'Love is equal for all,' or something like that? But would Mister Mikuni agree? I mean, even if he does, what would our wedding be like? Would it be some sort of civil wedding and her father's gonna administer the proceedings? That's so WEIRD. How about a Church Wedding? But maybe Oriko's not Christian. Wait, am I Christian? And besides, what would we look like? Are we going to both wear dresses or something…?
Oriko gave up, making a pained sigh as she dropped her shoulders. "You're holding a toast point."
I can wear a groom's outfit, sure, but I'd like it to be sort of like a dress… "Huh?" Kirika snapped herself out just enough to feel the rough, crumby sensation in her hands, before it revealed itself to her in all its golden brown and buttered glory.
Oriko stood up, walking towards her friend. "Come, come now, Kirika…"
The girl facepalmed, her shoulders trembling as her hand got wet with tears. "Is this serious…?"
Her best friend said nothing and wrapped her arms around Kirika, sharing her warmth. "There, there. That's okay. You always do your best for me, don't you?"
"What do you mean do my best?" she whimpered. "I can't even kill myself properly…"
Oriko backed up and looked at her friend with even brows. "Well, what do you want me to tell you? 'Don't worry Kirika-chan; you can kill yourself better next time, ni-pah~!' Have you been taking your pills lately?"
Kirika took a bite out of her toast point. "Well, I took my vitamins this morning. I have vitamin C for the immune system, there's vitamin A for eyesight, there's vitamin B for the immune system—Wait, I think I got that messed up, hold on…"
Her best friend laughed, this time a little more heartily than before. She was obviously in good spirits.
And Kirika was obviously missing a point. "Vitamin B, that's for… Wait, when you were talking about 'pills', did you mean…" Her eyes widened. "Ohhh, I get it. You said 'pills' as in— Oh crap I'm such an idiot oh god please kill me..." And she slapped her palm onto her face the second time.
Oriko rested her head on her friend's shoulder. "But you know, I really have to tell you something."
"…I shouldn't live on this earth I should live with my millionaire uncle on magical boat made out of money and go on exciting adventures with a blue time-travelling cat that eats bean buns wait wasn't I going somewhere with this…" Kirika snapped out of her delusion long enough to hear Oriko's voice. "What?"
"I had a dream," she said. "A horrible one. I don't want to talk about it anymore, really, but… I have to tell you."
Kirika didn't understand. One minute Oriko was okay and now… What was this? "Did you have some sort of nightmare?"
She firmed her embrace, nails digging lightly into Kirika's back. Her body trembled, almost wildly if not only did her friend hold her in place.
"I… I don't know," she said, "It felt too real. I can't run away. I have to face it. I know I shouldn't be, but I'm scared, Kirika... I really am."
Hearing her friend like this, she could barely summon any words at all. It must have been a really bad dream. But how was she going to help her if she didn't know what it was? "Oriko, calm down. What was it about?"
Oriko struggled to hold back her tears. "I am going to die."
Xxx^.TxxX
Another failure. Wonderful.
She opened her eyes upon the new day before her in bed. It was morning and the alarm on her nightstand had gone off for six o'clock. One more hour, she begged herself. The mind she inhabited was still half-stuck inside a labyrinth, a mess of images and disjointed memories sewn together to make a semblance of a coherent scene. What is clear in a dream becomes instantly muddled when one awakes; they lose their meaning and only become shifting, trembling demons.
Where is she? What day is it? Does it even matter? Nothing mattered, and she preferred ignorance and sleep, to fall back into the dark abyss and never get back up, to be reduced to mere existence, maybe even below existence if that is possible. There would be no difference. No difference at all.
What was the name of this existence anyway? She turned to the nightstand and saw medical paraphernalia alongside what seemed to be documents. School transfer forms marked to a person named Homura Akemi, the ink on the kanji and hiragana still fresh. So that was her name.
Right. It was all coming back now. Everything that had happened in the last timeline, it was all there. Oriko Mikuni and Kirika Kure had managed to kill Madoka again as the Kaname Residence burned. Another reset, another cycle. More suffering. Another missed chance. Another one's death.
Homura shook her head. How many restarts have gone by now? She would have tallied the numbers. It's just that the tallies always disappear with each restart, along with everything else. She had been at it for four days, rebuilding everything from scratch.
Mornings consisted of eating cold, half-eaten US Military MREs for breakfast, and drinking cheap but warm instant coffee. There was no radio to listen for news; she'd already thrown out the infernal contraption along with the TV. They never did her good anyway. Nobody called her at the telephone, no emails either. The mailbox at her front door overflowed, but Homura was never excited by the idea of tearing open bills, magazine subscription updates, letters from distant uncles, cousins, parents whose faces she couldn't even remember anymore. A reminder that her water would be cut off because of lagging payments would only bring too much grief.
Speaking of water, did she need to take a bath? Homura made a tentative sniff at her armpit. Nope. She would just take one after handling the preparations set for that morning. And about grief seeds, how many did she have? A precious few, tucked away in her study desk at the living room.
Homura read the note on her study desk under the lamp. 'Madoka Kaname, do you treasure the life you currently live, and do you consider your family and your friends precious?' She had been memorizing this question since whenever, but never had the opportunity to ask it.
If she could say anything about her living room, it was too dark. Thick red curtains drawn over all the windows, the only sources of light a dim computer monitor and the lamp with its weary yellow fluorescent bulb. Pulling them open revealed one meter-long rectangles of white construction paper tacked on the beige walls, bearing drawings of attack patterns, magical moves, and erudite analyses of Oriko Mikuni and Kirika Kure's magical girl forms Homura had written during her preparation. Others showed drawings of the residences where both girls lived, coupled with satellite pictures Homura printed off the internet.
Lately, Oriko Mikuni and Kirika Kure had become targets of Homura's obsession. So desperate this girl was to defeat them, she had already drawn up multiple battle plans and strategies, the rolls of paper she drew the schematics on numbering in tens of hundreds, almost all of them failures. The difficulty was in trying to find out a way to kill Mikuni and Kure without Madoka dying in the process. The latest plan she had designed was quite simple: Homura would strike at the earliest opportunity, catching them off-guard before they even knew what hit them. On the computer, an internet news network reported that the United States Forces Japan garrison in Kanagawa was missing an alarming amount of weapons, all of which found home in Homura's trusty shield. From the moment she woke up at the hospital, Homura had worked tirelessly in getting the most weapons and grief seeds she could in the shortest amount of time possible.
Nothing could be wasted up to the point of attack. Homura didn't even fix her eyes, opting to stay with her glasses, deciding that magic was irreplaceable in account of the vicious battle that was sure to come.
For a moment, she caught her reflection in the mirror with those glasses. She looked strange. The image wasn't complete. But no. She'll never wear those braids just because of these glasses, no matter how perfectly they matched.
Last night's job was already done. She had designed three different weapon loadouts, and now she would pretend battling Mikuni and Kure in a mental exercise. Loadout A was focused on Medium-ranged weapons. Izhmash AN-94 and Howa Type-89 Assault Rifles, Milkor Multiple Grenade Launchers and SBD AT-4 Rocket Launchers. She would keep her distance, with the heavy artillery, but close in with the assault weapons if needed...
No. This was not right. Kirika Kure could easily counter the Assault Rifles by slowing down the bullets. Attacking with the Milkors and the AT4s could be a valid option, but what if Oriko hit the projectiles with her metal orbs just like last time? They did some sort of combo in the last timeline—Kirika Kure slows down the missiles, Oriko Mikuni hits them with the orbs, and while Homura draws out another weapon to counter, Kirika Kure's already closed the distance and tore her face apart with those claws of hers.
Homura shook her head. No. This was not a good loadout. Not a good loadout at all.
Loadout B revolved around the idea to use Close Quarters Combat tactics, FN P90 and CZUB Skorpion submachine guns and shotguns. Homura would freeze time, bridge the distance between her and Kirika Kure first, and then… No, scratch that. Oriko Mikuni would just force her to use up all her magic to freeze time again. She had to go after Oriko Mikuni first, taking her out with the submachine guns. Now if Kirika Kure were to rush back and try to defend her little princess, then Homura would introduce her to Mister Saiga 12-gauge and his American associate Maxwell Atchison Assault Shotgun. What would Kure do when a hundred pellets of steel buckshot tear that smug grin off her face?
There was just one problem though: Would they really let Homura get that close? Suppose upon sensing Homura's intent, Kirika Kure would slow down time, snatch Oriko Mikuni away, and while staying their distance she chucks those stupid claws of hers from a distance just like how she almost cut Madoka in half…
…Damn it.
Homura tore off the page from her notebook and tossed it aside in a violent shrug. This loadout was trash. Couldn't she think of something useful for once?
Loadout C was Loadout B's antithesis: PGM Hecate II Sniper Rifles, RT-20 Recoilless Rifles, M224 mortars that would keep Homura as far away from the two as possible. She could blow Mikuni's brains out with the Hecate, and then use the Recoilless Rifle for Kure. The RT-20 was known for shooting the armored sights out of Russian Main Battle Tanks in the Nineties. How much would it fare against the thick skin on Kure's face? If they decided to close the distance, then M224s would be more than enough to blow their guts back into the Stone Age.
…if they ever let Homura get that far away, that is.
The last time she remembered using a PGM Hecate, Kure wrestled it out of Homura's hands and slammed the rifle butt into her face. Using artillery like M224s was out of the question either. Today's plan involved fighting in a residential suburb, where families would probably spend quality time together at home. One stray mortar shell was all it would take to ruin somebody's perfect Sunday. Homura was not prepared to let anybody else get harmed.
She closed the notebook, took a deep breath, and after a few moments she decided it better not to chuck it towards the wall. But dammit, how stupid could she be, making up such useless loadouts?
Homura still had a self-declared policy of keeping any innocents out of her fight. Nobody would get hurt, nobody would die. In her opinion, too many innocents had perished already. Not everybody could be saved, but she will try to save everybody she could. It was what Madoka would've wanted.
Homura would only kill the truly evil.
Mikuni and Kure, they didn't deserve to be called people at all. Not after what they had done to others in god knows how many timelines. The students at Mitakihara Middle School, Mami Tomoe and Kyoko Sakura, the Kanames. Homura could still remember how she pulled a crying Madoka away as her house burned down in the night, the two making their assault as Madoka blamed Homura for bringing such misfortune upon her and her family.
Why did you kill them?! Madoka didn't understand. Oriko and Kirika Kure had to die; Homura came here to save her. You were supposed to be my friend! I don't believe you! You're a liar! But Madoka had to be protected; Madoka was everything to Homura. You're a murderer! Homura was not a murderer; she was there to protect—
"Murderer!" Madoka's tear-stained image appeared from the darkness. "DEMON!"
Homura was not a murderer. She was not a demon. She was here to save Madoka!
"Yes you are! You said that you were my friend, but you're nothing but a liar, and a murderer, and a demon!"
"SHUT UP!"
Homura banged her fist into the wall, making the schematics shake. Her hand unfolded, all of her fingers twitching uncontrollably, like petals of a flower confused whether to go into bloom or not. A dull, warm pain flowed from her knuckles. A Soul Gem was supposed to block out all pain, but why did she feel that punch? Was she pretending to feel it?
She wished this pain was real. Homura deserved all the punishment in the world for her failures. Another one, and another one, every one.
She stared at her hand for a few moments, and then closed it back into a fist, reminding herself of who brought her to burn Madoka's home in the first place. Oriko Mikuni and Kirika Kure, this was their fault. All of it.
Unforgiveable, Homura's verdict was. Truly unforgiveable.
Again, Homura took another deep breath. She had to be calm now. This was no time to be mad. "Never be mad," she whispered to herself. "Always get even."
Never be mad. Always get even. She would get even, alright. She would make up for all of it. For everything. Madoka had to be avenged. She was Homura's best friend. Homura had a debt to pay for all that the girl did for her. In Madoka's name, no innocents would get involved, Homura would save everybody she could, and only the truly evil will die.
Revitalized by a burst of motivation, Homura made up a simpler weapon loadout. The simpler a plan was, the more one could trust it. If Kirika Kure would try to attack from afar, the .50 Caliber Hecate would answer back. If she tried to get up close, then there was an M9 Beretta and a Mk. 1 Trench Knife waiting for her. For Mikuni, an M249 light machine gun should shut her up quick enough. If not, AT4s would probably work once Kure was out of the picture. Even if the black magical girl does that cute little stunt again where she turns herself into a Witch, 60mm Mortars and the recoilless rifle would fix that mother once she creates a labyrinth. A little bit of other close-quarters weapons, some rifles for long-range and medium ranges handled by her "Buddy" Type 89, and Homura had everything she needed.
She went over everything listed against what she had, her fine amethyst eyes studying her type-like handwriting behind her glasses. But looking at it for a few moments made Homura feel sad for herself. This would happen to her sometimes. When hit by a new inspiration, she would start doubting herself a few seconds later. Her emotions were a roller coaster that dipped often between hope and despair. What was the point of all this? she would ask herself. What if it all failed again? The list before her seemed so empty. These words had no sense, no meaning, no purpose. A wall of text that only served to fill the blank spaces of her empty desire, her empty life.
But she had learned long ago to live with her self-doubt.
What was meaning? What is the purpose of having a purpose? And who creates these purposes? Existence precedes essence—that is for certain. A thing only has a meaning something else had assigned one to it, and no one thing only has one meaning. An absolute truth does not exist and will never exist, and so someone has to create the truth that will let them find their own meaning. That's right. If her life did not have a purpose, then it was Homura's job to give it a purpose. To give everything else in her life a purpose, she had to create her own truth.
I must protect Madoka. This is the only truth that mattered. Everything that will dispute this truth is a lie. And everything else is secondary.
Authors Notes:
Thanks for reading—Oh, no, wait; you're not done with the Author's Notes section; sorry…
[stays in a corner, ashamed. Looks over shoulder suspiciously, nibbles a Snickers' Bar before coming back]
[clears throat] I'll only say three things:
1. This came about while I was making Homura's character sheet for the TWoHS rewrite. Strange things tend to happen if you dwell on one part of her life too much.
2. It will be 3 chapters long, clocking at around 13k words. Chapter updates will arrive every 4 days, so the fic's complete by 8 days.
3. I am currently suffering from chronic Failing Writer Disease, and every technical review and piece of constructive criticism will result in adding 1 Dollar/Euro/Peso to my Toke Stipend—er, Medical Treatment.
Now that's out of the way, let me tell you how you should not judge a woman's beauty by how she cooks her eggs… Oh wait, I'm not Kazuko. And you're not her class. You're the handsome/beautiful person who will continue reading this fanfic because I am flattering you quite thickly.
Now perish the thought, ignore the self-important, pretentious Latin chapter titles, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the chapters to come (let's just hope I tagged it with the correct rating now...).