Homura just wanted the best for her.
She was too selfless, too kind, and Homura hated and loved her for it.
Loved her for being her first friend.
Hated her for denying herself any kindness to herself.
Every time she tried, she would come so close. So close to Madoka having another day to live.
So close to being able to see her as human and not a Magical girl.
And each encounter made her more jaded, more protective whilst fate wound its red string tighter around the pink haired girl.
Homura blamed Kyubey. But even he was not the one who made her go back timelessly to attempt to save a doomed companion.
What would it do for her to be just a bit selfish? To fight against fate?
But no.
Every time a repeat of blood, death and the whisper of self-loathing at not being able to save her friend.
So when Madoka became a Goddess of the Cycles, Homura wasn't happy.
But it was better. Better than seeing a dead body and knowing that she had once again failed.
She could've lived with it, knowing one day she would be able to go back to the one person she fought for.
But it was unfair.
Whispers of her existence bubbled in every corner of the world, yet were ignored. Every time she encountered Junko she would fake a smile that cracked her heart in deep places and her little brother made her want to break down and cry her heart out.
Mami didn't remember her. Neither did Kyouko.
Hell, even Kyubey who had caused her so much distress didn't remember her.
But she continued to fight the Wraiths knowing this time once her soul gem was a mottled black that she could have peace from this world that hated her so much. Continued to shoot arrow after arrow at the new despair that lurked in the dark corners of society's mind.
And when she finally spread the wings of chaos that she had grown in her battles, she had smiled. Knowing she had done well for her friend. And thinking just maybe the world wasn't the worst place to live.
Ah, she had forgotten. How harsh reality was. How mean it could be.
True, she would see Madoka again. But this time in a mockery of Mitakihara with all her friends. All of them. Not a single one of them missing.
All of them smiling. Happy. Content.
She had forgotten the world and its troubles.
That is until her encounter with Sayaka.
She had felt bad at first about doubting this kind world.
But something about it was off so she had decided to check.
Hoping every time throughout her ride on the bus with Kyouko that this pseudo-city was real. That she wasn't dreaming up a reality that would never be.
But as Mitakihara never went any farther she realized.
Something was wrong. This world isn't right.
Even more so when she talked with Madoka for the last time.
And then reality decided to hit her. Hard.
A witch? The one thing I fought for over two years of rewinds and heartbreak? The one thing I didn't want to become?
She knew she was pitiful. It had been what Madoka found endearing about her after all. What she saw she didn't know. But she now knew.
Madoka shouldn't have done it. I should've stopped her.
She shouldn't have sacrificed her life again. Shouldn't have given into that kindness that she was so well known for.
All my fault. All my fault. She whispered while trudging down the path mad by her own familiars. She wanted to cry. But she already was. After all this was her despair. Her end.
But when Madoka came to save her she felt a small spark of hope.
And then desire like that of a wave swamped her senses.
She wanted to give them happiness. All of them.
No one would die. They could all be happy. Madoka could be human. If she took the part that made her human away.
The one thought ran rings around her head as she lifted her eyelids in time to see her reaching a hand out. In friendship. In hope. In happiness.
Her heart still hurts when she recalls ruining the open gesture.
Long past had the event gone by. She had changed.
No longer human.
When she had given back the twin ribbons she had almost ruined the world she worked frantically for and Madoka had almost gone back to being a sacrificial lamb.
It was then that she realized that she could no longer be close friends with her, so she watched her from afar.
It was worth it.
Madoka had a life now.
Even if she did shy away from Homura, and hate her presence.
She had a life.
And Homura was finally happy. Happy because her friends did not die. Happy because Kyubey got what he so rightfully deserved. Happy that though they were Magical Girls and fought wraiths she could protect them.
Happy because she finally controlled fate's blood red strings.
Or so she had assumed.
It wasn't a very eventful day when the last wraith died in Mitakihara.
People didn't celebrate in the streets or hoot and holler downtown.
When the last wraith was defeated despair wasn't eliminated.
But the small group of four had realized their mistake and had remembered the last being they needed to defeat.
They hadn't doubted her identity too often. Hadn't thought that she was a demon in hiding who knew exactly who they were.
They had found her partly because of her carelessness.
The night had been mockingly beautiful, the moon whole and stars glinting ethereally. Not a cloud dotted the sky and only the lights of the city below disturb the natural scene.
She had been sitting at a lone white table, black wings spread elegantly at the top of a secluded hill when a spear and a rapier splintered the table, casting wooden shards in every direction. She had reacted in time, flipping away to face her attackers.
She knew who they were.
She didn't want to hurt them. She had made this world for their joy.
She didn't want this.
A gunshot whipped past her hair, leaving a stray red mark onto the pale face, wounding the soul more than if the bullet had pierced her chest.
The bandages she had wound around her heart were loose, falling uncontrollably as the onslaught of threats from each person added up.
A sudden volley of arrows landed dangerously close to her feet and the sight of her with golden eyes of fury and her bow held tightly in her hands made her throat choke, trying to hold back tears. Her eyes grew slightly misty and her inner child screamed atthem.
I wanted to help you! That was why I made this world. That was why I hid it from you! Please understand!
It had been useless. The whole endeavor of trying to save them.
She had lied when she said she understood. When she said she had never had a better friend.
Because she couldn't know how desolate it was to see someone you cared about die.
She was hope. She didn't know despair.
Blades of evergreen hid him from view but she knew.
She could see him.
She could see Kyubey in the shadows of the grass, broken and battered but smiling knowingly.
Knowing how she had to give up.
"Homura." She almost flinched at the lack of gentleness that she had grown used to hearing.
"Why?" It cut her deeply. Made her want to scream her frustration and throw a tantrum like a little girl.
She loved them all. They were her only family. Her life before she had met them was forgotten.
Regardless of how twisted her love for them had gotten.
She hid her hurt, her guilt behind a mask of cold ire and a cruel smile, spreading her arms in a welcoming manner.
"This is my true personality. Do you hate it Madoka?"
The grimaces from the four others spoke volumes about how sickening they felt she was.
The crack of a pocky stick snapping in two was audible among the tense silence.
"You bastard…" Kyoko stepped forward her spear ready.
All their eyes were cold. No amusement of empathy for the demon.
Sayaka lowers her sword menacingly, Mami flips the guns with ease, and Nagisa clings ever closer to the girl in yellow but Homura's eyes rest upon the white clad figure who looked up at her with anger.
The last piece of her heart that had been holding out through her life's ordeal cracked at the sight.
The one person who she had been holding out for had given up on her.
She closed her eyes while plastering a false smile upon her face smothering her pain and once more holding her hands upright mockingly, pretending it didn't hurt.
Knowing this had all been a gamble, a game of chance.
A game she would lose.
"Come. I will fight with you."
A surge of familiars holding weapons of all sorts rush forward, insane maniacal grins on their faces as they swamp the small group of people. Sickles, swords, spears, staffs of every kind trying to slaughter their targets.
The girls defeated the oncoming onslaught with ease and elegance, flipping over cuts aimed at their feet and shooting point blank at the horde of enemies.
A bowstring was drawn back with deft fingers, releasing arrows by the hundreds all leaving a pink trail while whistling through the air.
Several shafts left cuts in her legs and devastated the army of familiars behind her.
Through this she held her head with poise and pretended that it wasn't a tear tracing down her cheek.
That she wasn't hurt by what she was doing.
Sorry….Madoka.
Authors Note:
Err…..Hi. Don't kill me. I am working on my other story, just needed a breather from killing myself over Phantom's Clown. I just wanted to write this fic for some reason. I've been wanting to ever since the third movie came out because I didn't believe that Homura would go insane like many of the people keep telling others. I mean she's reset so many timelines that if she didn't go insane from, meaning she has a stronger mental capacity than many. Meh. Maybe that's just me. Read and review if you liked it! Bye.