Lotus Abattoir

That morning, Homura slept in. She didn't rush to the Madoka's house, she didn't worry about Kyubey, she didn't even load her weapons. When she got out of bed, she couldn't stop a small smile from breaking out over face, because she had finally won.

Mitakihara was still being rebuilt from the battle against Walpurgis, and school had yet to restart, leaving Homura with no obligations; she decided to take her time getting ready for the day. She left her room and headed to the kitchen; she opened the curtains, allowing the sterile, artificial lighting of her home to be replaced with the comforting glow of the morning sun. She took a moment to bask in it, enjoying the feeling of its rays caressing her skin, before returning to prepare breakfast.

It was a simple affair: toast with jam, but the absence of the usual knot in her stomach made her appreciate it more than she would have liked to admit. After finishing her meal, she returned to her room in search of an outfit for the day, settling on a lavender sun dress, she grabbed it and crossed the house to the bathroom.

She took a shower, "A far longer one than necessary", the thought sprang unbidden into her mind; she had still not let go of the militaristic mindset she had developed during the cycles. "Not scolding myself over the shower would be a good start," she thought, before changing and heading for the front door.

With her hand on the knob, Homura took a deep breath, attempting to muster, "Enthusiasm? Excitement?," really, she would have settled for anything other than the aimless boredom she had been dealing with the past week. Well, anything besides that, or the despair that had defined her never-ending month.

Throwing open the door to meet the world, she looked around.

The sky was clear except for a single cloud lazily drifting by, the heat was noticeable, yet not overbearing, there was a gentle breeze in the air and for a second it seemed idyllic.

Homura blinked.

There were no birds singing, the trees that hadn't been torn from the earth had drowned in the rain, their cracked husks stood vigil over the shattered concrete of the long street she was now gazing down.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Something about the scene made her anxious in a way she couldn't really articulate. Worry began to tug at her subconscious once again; she pulled out her cellphone and dialed the only number she knew: Madoka's.

Homura let her mind wander as the dial tone looped; the pink haired angel really was her only pillar. She was in uncharted territory. Never having killed Walpurgis without Madoka's help, Homura had never seen what lay beyond. She no longer knew the witches that were being born, and the other girls were even more unpredictable, thankfully though, she had little need to predict or manipulate anymore.

Sayaka was still human, and disillusioned with Puella Magi life (not to mention thoroughly terrified by Walpurgis), so Homura wasn't worried about her contracting. She had earned a grudging sort of respect from the sapphire haired girl, but each still found the other insufferable, so contact was infrequent.

Kyoko was staying in Mitakihara with Mami; they made a point of always hunting separately and Homura rarely spoke to either of them. Gratitude for their help, and guilt over considering them expendable combined to leave her nearly mute around the duo. Without the other three, all she had left was Madoka.

Not that she wasn't familiar with strained relationships, but Homura had hoped, in some forgotten corner of her mind, that things could go back to the way they were before the cycles.

Then the dial tone cut off and she was shaken from her musings by the pink haired girl's voice chirping in her ear, "I can't come to the phone at the moment, but leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I can. Thank you!"

Homura could think of dozens of perfectly logical reasons for Madoka not to answer her phone: leaving it on silent, going out and forgetting it, accidentally breaking it, being kidnapped, getting trapped in a barrier, being murder-

Homura turned and began walking towards the Kaname house.

The walk was long and uncomfortable. It was illogical, Homura told herself, but if she had learned one thing as a Puella Magi, it was that emotions are unreasonable. She could feel the anxiousness beginning to colour her perception; she rounded the corner of an apartment and took in the scenery.

The uneasiness from earlier returned, the birds were still silent, and for that matter, everything was. The wind had stopped, there were no vehicles driving, but was to be expected given the state of the roads, what chilled Homura was the lack of people. No one was walking the city, no one was cleaning the debris, and no one was rebuilding. The apartments lining the street she was on were serviceable, with the notable exception of the one collapsed across the intersection, yet there were no sounds of life. She pulled out her soul gem and scanned the area but turned up nothing, there were no witches nearby to entrap the residents.

Homura blinked, and suddenly the wind returned, howling; she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and increased her pace.

Bizarrely, yet not unwelcomely, Madoka's home had sustained little damage from Walpurgis. In fact, the front door even seemed to have a fresh paint job, Homura noted as she rapped her knuckles against the varnished surface. On the fifth knock her hand met open air as the door swung inward, revealing the relaxed smile of Madoka's father.

"Ah! A pleasure to see you again Homura, should I get Madoka?"

"If it's not too much trouble, I would appreciate it."

He stepped to the side and ushered her in, "Feel free to wait in the living room," then turned and jogged up the stairs.

Homura opted for the foyer, she knew it looked strange, but she didn't care. Being invited inside and seeing the happy, normal family was heartbreaking. Times like that made the rift between the magical and the mundane painfully apparent; if they were fortunate, they would never even find out about the former. Looking back, she supposed she had always been unlucky. "They say that ignorance is bliss," she thought, and a tiny, envious part of her wanted to say to them, "Did you know that your daughter nearly sold her soul three times last month?" But enlightening them wouldn't buy her soul back, it wouldn't even buy her ignorance back.

The garden which lay beyond the ceiling-to-floor windows suddenly seemed incredibly appealing in comparison to her brooding; there was an entire row dedicated to red spider lilies. She couldn't pinpoint any single reason, but they called to her, their beauty alluring, yet somehow tragic.

Footsteps sounding above her head lifted her back to reality. They then crossed the house and descended the stairs, revealing Madoka as their owner. The pink haired girl promptly lit the room with her smile, blanking Homura's mind in the process.

"Homura!"

They ended up wandering the city, ordinarily Homura would have suggested the park, or the mall, but neither was in serviceable condition yet. She glanced at Madoka as they passed a dilapidated pharmacy, the shorter girl was transfixed by the state of Mitakihara, and hadn't said a word since they had left her home.

As they climbed over a pile of rubble and twisted scrap, Homura turned to look back down the street, scarcely able to believe that she was looking at the same city she had spent the cycles in.

Yes, she could still picture it clearly, they had just passed the pharmacy where she received her heart medication. That pile of shattered concrete at the other end of the street was a café she had visited once; a florist used to own the building to their left.

"Not since Walpurgisnacht," she sighed. Madoka, standing on the other side of the rubble, turned to look back up at her.

"What about Walpurgisnacht?"

"It's of no concern, I was simply remembering the batt-"

It was then that Homura suddenly became aware of how little she actually remembered about the battle. She attempted to review the facts; the fight was unspeakably difficult, she knew that much, and it had been long too, she thought. Mami must have fought as well, and she had to have brought Kyouko with her. But Homura had lost with those odds before, the real key to her plan had been-
She had won by-

"I was simply thinking about the battle," she corrected herself. The answer seemed to satisfy Madoka; the girl offered Homura a hand as she climbed down.

They continued their trek through the city, hands still connected; it was quite pleasant, or rather, it should have been. They were in the warehouse district now, the setting sun casting long shadows across the pavement.

Homura stared at her shoes as they walked, refusing to look into the yawning darkness of the empty warehouses. Escaped familiars often lurked in areas like these, waiting in hopes of an easy first kill; she couldn't feel any in the area. Even if there were, she had ammunition and grief seeds to spare, her last hunt had only been-
The witch's lair was near-
It's familiars were-
The last hunt she could remember had been before Walpurgis; she was certain that she had hunted recently, yet the memories were just beyond her reach. Homura could feel her heart rate escalating as she thought about it.

"Stay calm, just retrace your steps."

Yesterday she had-
She couldn't remember yesterday. Nor could she remember the day before, and in that instant, she became cognizant of the fact that she had no memories to support her knowledge of the past few weeks.

"Homura, you're hurting me."

She looked down to find Madoka's small hand being crushed in her own.

"Madoka..."

Homura dropped her hand.

"Tell me something. How did we defeat Walpurgisnacht?"

The air was still, and the city silent. The sun was swallowed beneath the horizon, leaving the pair under a black, moonless sky. Madoka's lips moved soundlessly. Homura felt sick, she tried the focus on the coolness of the her soul gem against her skin, and repeated,

"How did we kill Walpurgisnacht?"

Once more Madoka spoke silently.

A gale started up as Homura began, "Madoka-"

Her voice was quiet and wavering.

"W-what is-"

She stuttered.

Until finally, "Where am I?"

She whispered. As Madoka's mouth opened the world was silenced; Homura could no longer hear her heart pounding. Madoka finished, and the screaming of the wind returned to fill the space.

Outside, Kyouko was already at the intersection when Madoka arrived.

"So, you decided to show up, eh?"

"Of course! We have to try if there's even the slightest chance of saving her!"

Kyouko's smirk became a genuine smile as she offered the open end of the pocky box to Madoka.

"I guess she's lucky to have a friend like you, then."

At once, Kyouko's demeanor became serious and she began to outline her plan.

"The white rat said that she transformed because she gave in to despair," the duo, led by the redhead, started walking west, towards the lair of their former comrade, "so I was thinkin'...maybe if we can give her some hope back, she'll go back to normal."

As they cut through an alley, Kyouko clapped the shorter girl on the back.

"Now that's where you come in. You two were pretty close right? Or at least, she though the world of you."

Madoka looked up as they emerged back out into the street, the night was overcast, giving the illusion of a dead, lightless sky.

"So," Kyouko spun on her heel and faced Madoka, "even if she is a witch, maybe she'd remember the voice of a friend, you know? Make her remember her old life and want to return."

The plan was dubious at best, and Kyouko knew it.

"W-will that work?"

"Hell if I know, but would it be so much to ask for one real miracle?
Just once, I want to believe in miracles and magic, just like in those cheesy magical girl shows where love, justice and dedication always prevail."

She and Madoka began to walk again; Kyouko pulled out a new stick of pocky to replace the one she had snapped in her fervor.

"I mean, isn't that we made the contract? To take fate into our own hands? I was nearly ready to give up that ideal forever when that-"

She smiled unhappily.

"-That stubborn idiot did what I never could,"

Kyouko remembered the night the girl in question had confessed her wish.

"And forced me to believe."

They were getting closer now, Kyouko's soul gem was pulsing with crimson.

"But I'm not expecting this to be easy or anything, it'll be dangerous, and if things get too intense I might not be able to defend you. So if you wanna turn back now, I won't stop you. Regular girls like you, ones with lives to return to, friends and family that would grieve for them, you shouldn't have to put your lives on the line."

Madoka reached out to grasp Kyouko's hand, "I'm going to help, after all, this is our opportunity to take fate into our hands, right?"

Kyouko grinned, "Right! The name's Kyouko Sakura, by the way."

The shorter smiled in return, "Madoka Kaname."

Kyouko released her hand from Madoka's and held up her soul gem, in a flash of vermilion she entered magical form.

"We're here."

The pair was standing in the warehouse district at the far end of Mitakihara. Escaped familiars often lurked in areas like these, and that night, their dark mistress was too. The mirth from a second ago had vanished beneath Kyouko's steely resolve.

Ahead of them was a single warehouse with its door still intact. There was a phrase engraved upon it in glowing violet, "Esser von Lotusblumen".

Kyouko reached out to touch it, but was given pause by Madoka, "Are you sure this is her?"

Kyouko, with body tense and brows furrowed, replied, "There's no mistaking the energy, this is Homura's barrier."

She released a spark of her magic into the engraving, and the pair was plunged into darkness.

Kyouko rubbed her eyes, she had never seen a barrier like this, not that unique ones were unusual, but they tended to be rather surreal. She and Madoka were standing in a corridor, the floor was lined with maroon velvet carpeting, the walls were lacquered oak, the ceiling was made of interlocking logs from which flicking paper lanterns hung. Kyouko doubted they had time to waste taking in the lodge any further, "Let's get moving."

The walls were lined with windows, beyond which only an impenetrable darkness could be seen. Between each pair of windows was a painting, Homura was in all of them, and the other girls, particularly Madoka, were featured prominently.

They passed a portrait of Homura laying in a hospital bed, one of Madoka rescuing her from a witch, and one of Homura making her contact in a decimated Mitakihara.

It occurred to Kyouko that they didn't seem any closer to the end of the corridor than when they arrived; ahead, the hall disappeared over the horizon, she turned and noted the same effect behind them.

The paintings were showing increasingly distressing scenes: a bespectacled Homura sobbing over Madoka's corpse, Madoka being crushed by a mermaid witch while an injured Homura tried to crawl to her, Homura watching Madoka's witch consume Mitakihara. The Madoka currently walking by Kyouko's side was surprisingly unperturbed by the whole situation.

She pointed to a painting as they passed by and asked, "Aren't you a little too calm about all of this?"

Madoka offered a sad smile in return, "I suppose I've just been in enough barriers to get used to it," she murmured, "not that I've been any help, though."

There were figures outside the windows now, life-sized dolls, each one painted with a uniquely horrific caricature of a human face.

"Kyouko, I could use my wish to-"

Kyouko cut her off with a cry, "No! Making a contract is throwing your life away! Throwing your soul away! You shouldn't do it unless you have no other options."

The pair, feeling the eyes on them from beyond the windows, increased their pace.

"You have a home, a family, and a future! If you'd trade all that in for this," she gestured to the barrier around them, "I'd kick your ass myself."

The dolls were pressing against the glass now, laughing, their grins far too wide and rows of jagged teeth glinting in the light. They began to claw at the glass, cackling and chanting in shrill, distorted voices, "Es ist zeit, unsere herrin zu erfüllen! Es ist zeit, unsere herrin zu erfüllen!"

The pair suddenly found themselves at the end of the hallway, a massive ebony-framed portrait blocked further progress. The dolls fell silent as Madoka stepped back to take in the piece, biting her lip until it bled.

"This..."

She could feel tears brimming in her eyes.

"This is..."

"Homura's final moment," Kyouko finished.

It showed Homura in the warehouse district, a storm raged overhead, blocking out the celestial bodies and soaking her to the bone. She was lying on the icy concrete, crying, no, Madoka thought, she was sobbing. The emotion was more primal, more raw than sadness.

"Despair," a voice whispered in her mind.

Homura's lips were pulled back in a silent wailing lament, skin flushed, and eyes shut. Immaculate, layered brush strokes captured every rigid muscle and raindrop. Globules of paint gave depth to the girl's tears, which stood distinct from the rain and seemed so real that Madoka felt she could yet wipe them away. Homura's arms were folded over her chest as though she were an embalmed corpse, and Kyouko's eyes were drawn to the final artistic flourish. In her pale, bruised hands, Homura held the remains of her soul: a cracked, blackened gem. Tendrils of darkness snaked out to burn her skin, and somehow, Kyouko could tell that the final violet spark within was flickering, and that Homura's hands were trembling.

Kyouko put an arm around the shoulders of the now-sobbing Madoka. Then the lanterns burned out and plunged them into darkness for the second time.

Both girls listened, awaiting the sounds of malicious laughter and shattering glass, but neither came. Another moment passed and the taller of the pair pulled the gem from her chest, bathing the corridor in dim crimson. The circle of light didn't extend to the nearest window, and neither girl was sure that they wanted it to. They turned to face the portrait once more.

Homura had taken on the pallor of snow, her features relaxed, and she almost seemed at peace. With her arms folded across her chest, in stiffened hands, she held a grief seed. Kyouko stifled a gasp as she and Madoka sprang back from the portrait, letting it return to the dark.

A grandfather clock sounded in the distance, and with a groan, the walls around them fell away, the ceiling was carried up as though being lifted by a puppeteer. No end to the barrier could be seen, the velvet carpeting merged into obsidian, and the light of the Kyouko's soul gem met a thick, strangling fog.

Had it not been happening right then, she would have thought feeling simultaneously claustrophobic and agoraphobic to be impossible. The thought was then banished from her mind as a massive shape loomed out of the miasma. Kyouko's throat tightened and Madoka clung to her.

The pair stood before Homulily and her false children.

The witch was eldritch, like a painting come-to-life. Immaculate, layered brushstrokes captured every movement of its flowing robes, the gentle beating of its butterfly wings and each ember of baleful magic to fall from its hat. Madoka didn't even have time to scream before Kyouko threw her back, erecting a cage of protective magic around the girl and brandishing her spear.

"Don't worry about me, just focus on saving Homura!"

Kyouko parried a strike from one of the dolls, but a second assailant forced her to dance away before she could riposte.

"Homura!" Madoka screamed.

Homulily didn't react. Kyouko was running now, unable to contend with the ever-growing number of opponents, contusions and deep cuts laced her arms, wounds which could have been lethal were they not blocked.

She bellowed over her shoulder, "Weren't we going to defend the city together, Homura?!"

Madoka followed up, "What about Walpurgisnacht!?"

If Homulily was listening, it didn't show, instead, the witch descended to the ground before Madoka's cage and placed one massive, pale hand against it. Madoka watched, wide-eyed, as black flames engulfed the hand and pressed themselves against the barrier. Kyouko was clutching a puncture wound between her ribs as she ran, she knew the dolls could take her any time they wanted.

She made one final appeal, "Homura! What about your wish? Are you letting all those attempts go to waste?"

Beneath the twin forces of the flames, and Kyouko's exhaustion, the barrier caved in.

"Didn't you fucking want to save Madoka?! Are you giving up on her?!" Homulily swept the girl in question up in a massive fist.

"Homura! Your hurting me...!" Was all she managed to say before the air was crushed from her lungs.

"Homura!" Kyouko screamed, as she leapt and drove her spear deep into the flesh of Homulily's wrist.

The witch hardly reacted, staring dully at the fresh wound as it released the pink haired girl. The lancer plucked her from the air and ventured a glace back while Homulily was distracted. The dolls had begun to laugh again, but this time it wasn't directed at the pair. Kyouko had reached her limit.

"Madoka...I'll take it from here." She laid the unconscious girl down, she could feel her soul begin to extinguish itself as she summoned a new barrier around the girl. She glanced at the hysterical familiars, pointing at their master.

"She's fighting on alone, even as a witch..."

Kyouko pulled her soul gem from its place over her heart, there was a single spark left within.

"You would have wanted me to protect her for you, right? Even if it was from you?"

She kissed her soul gem. "Homura...it's time to retire from your mission. Don't worry, you won't be alone any longer."

She relished the feeling of life, her heart pounding, knowing it would be the last time, and prayed, "Please God, just once, let me have a happy dream."

With that, she shattered the gem with a stoke of her spear; the final breath of Kyouko's soul subsumed the remains of Homura's, then both slipped away.

Madoka awoke to Kyouko's shield dissolving along with the barrier. She was laying on the concrete in front of the only warehouse with its door still intact. The engraving on the door had faded, leaving only, "Lotus".

It began to rain, and if Madoka concentrated hard enough, she could almost convince herself that the wetness on her face wasn't tears.

Author's Notes

Abattoir: French for "slaughterhouse"

"Esser von Lotusblumen": German, roughly translates to "Lotus eater".

In Greek mythology the Lotus Eaters were a group of people living near north Africa. The area was covered in lotus plants, the fruits of which were addictive and narcotic. People who entered the land and ate the fruits would slip into a state of apathy and never return home. Similarly, a witch is a magical girl who has become intoxicated with her despair, she creates a barrier which people may enter, but never leave, including herself. This applies especially to Homura, for whom Madoka was a lotus fruit even before rebellion.

Cover art is "Being Homura is Suffering", by dynamo5 on Deviantart, it was the closest thing I could find to my mental image of the portrait.