A/N: Written as a Femslash After Dark 2018 exchange gift for Xairathan.
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Her routine became mechanical. Homura left the hospital, returned home, found supplies in one of the nearest yakuzu hide-outs or even farther, and she prepared for another round of dashed hopes and treacherous battles.
The thing was, she had become used to not being watched in the dead of night. Stopping time only did so much while she was inside collecting her ammunition. After visiting her haunts, she felt near ready for anything.
Except the times it was a bit out of order.
And when the atmosphere dropped and she felt a shiver come on—eyes burned into her back viciously—she only knew she had a few precious seconds to retaliate. The spear lashed out at her with critical force, and she blocked it, skidding back on the ground.
"Quick reflexes," the smooth, impressed voice praised. There was still a mocking tone embedded in it and a bored sigh.
That didn't register. Something was . . . oddly different than her usual demanor (not that Kyouko was polite always). It was earlier than she showed herself, but Homura knew the reason. "Why are you here, Sakura Kyouko?"
Kyouko blinked at her, surprised she knew her name. She shrugged, smirking. Irked, Homura chided herself for not seeing this earlier. But she couldn't predict everything.
"Let's skip the chit-chat; your sharp eyes tell me you know what I want. Did you kill her? Was it you?" She laughed at Homura's bite of the lip. "Not here for revenge, Princess. It doesn't matter. Now that she's gone, I'm looking to expand and settle my roots in this town. It doesn't take a genius magical girl to know territory is important." She took a generous bite of her snack, crushed the box with her hand, and tossed it to the side of the alley. "I'm taking Mitakihara. You're the most experienced now, right? Let's do this."
Homura's blood chilled at the way she spoke. Meanwhile, her shield clicked and a pistol materialized. Had she disassociated herself so far from Mami her death didn't affect her?
Most things were constant with each time loop. Homura had calculated and outweigh the risks. How they individually played out.
The outlier, above all, was Kyouko herself. Her self-centered and selfish nature stayed intact—yet traits resurfaced differently. What as her story? Maybe they'd talk later.
"Very well, Sakura Kyouko," Homura said. Even if she tried to evade her, Kyouko never was in the mood for those types of games.
Kyouko's head tilted. She didn't know who this cocky magical girl was but she earned a bit of her attention. If Homura could fight as coolly as her gaze suggested, they would be in real business. "That's the way I like it," she said. "Cutting out the bullshit for action."
And Kyouko's spear came down on her, and she dodged to the left. She fired several rounds. She and Kyouko danced in the shadows, jumping on the grimy rooftops above, sailing under trails of street lamps on the street that gave them enough light. It was rapid-fire clash of metal against the barrels of her guns. Kyouko was merciless; Homura, without time to reload, pulled for more and more fresh pistols and shotguns.
But then Homura found herself lost.
Kyouko's image began to blend in and out of focus in the moonlight. The flash of two images of Kyouko appeared on either side of each other. Homura's gun was too far aimed to one side to switch position. For a split second, she was caught off-guard. The spear's blow on her arm felt like lightning.
This . . . this is—! Homura's genuine shock nullified the pain as she collapsed into the wall behind her. Dust sprinkled in her eyes.
"I see," Homura murmured. This explained her resolve. There was one logical conclusion. Blood rolled down the wound on her arm and stained her uniform. The sting of the metal echoed in her head. "Illusionary magic. You never rejected the wish you made."
Kyouko twirled her spear, and the sound of it jangled in Homura's ears. "What the hell are you talking about?" She looked disgusted, walking towards her with purpose in her step. "What of it anyway? You use what you have. Hey, look, don't pretend you know a damned thing about me. I regret absolutely nothing."
Homura knew exactly where Kyouko liked to cut deep. Taking a breath, she would have to match that hostility. "Not even your family?" she asked. "Not even the family that you wanted to save—your father especially?" No, she usually never went this far and brought up information she shouldn't, but Kyouko rubbed her the right way to force it out.
Anger flashed across Kyouko's eyes. She hated to show that, weakness, but she didn't understand how this girl's mouth was so big. "There you go again." But her deadpan look fell back into place. After all, magical girls were resourceful. She must truly be a threat to dig up dirt on her neighbor. She wouldn't let that ruffle her. Still, she couldn't shake the way Homura's voice so dead-on without a hint of fear. "How's this," she snapped," I made a wish. I tried to help them. But he rejected me. You know, Faither must have deserved it."
Homura didn't want to dive into the problems with that cruelty, or Kyouko's nonchalance about a family she (normally) loved. If the adrenaline wasn't pumping through her veins, and if she wasn't trying to work a strategy out to stave her off, she would reason with her. She must have been through something that Homura hadn't known about. Either way, convincing Kyouko wasn't in the plan.
Homura scrambled to her feet just as Kyouko swung down. She managed to get out of the blade's path, but the chain got her, and she was tugged closer to Kyouko. She glowered down at her and she did the same back.
It was the briefest of touches, but Kyouko's lips met hers, and Homura's eyes widened. It wasn't until then she realized blood oozed from a wound in Kyouko's side and the blood dripped against her outstretched leg. In that case, Kyouko must be taken with her skill.
Indeed, Kyouko was slightly astounded with finding a rival worth her salt. But it wasn't just out of desire; it was to test her response. Force her into regret while she was trapped. Just to rub the salt in her wounds, Kyouko squeezed her chest. After Homura let out a gasp, her hand slithered under her skirt.
Homura's eyes narrowed. No, she wouldn't let her do as she pleased quite that much.
Finally, she yanked her arm away, and the barrage of bullets continued—all of which Kyouko swiped away with her spear. Homura comtemplated pulling out a bigger gun, but Kyouko was beginning to slow down. Kyouko hissed when more than bullet landed around her and purple sparks flew around them.
Eventually, Homura had an idea. She stopped and flipped backwards. Quickly, she put distance between them. It was necessary, because she didn't think Kyouko would stop at her illusionary tricks once. And she didn't; Homura felt the same tug of magic as before. While Kyouko caught her breath, she pulled out rocket launchers and spread them on the rooftop of the building. Expertly, she lit them.
Kyouko noticed her effort, but she snorted, not knowing what her angle was. What trick was she plotting? It didn't matter. Once again, she raced at Homura with her spear raised. Doubles and even more than that of herself appeared before Homura and screamed.
The rocket launchers sizzled and exploded into the sky. The air filled with fire and smoke. Kyouko coughed, eyes prickling, wildly lashing out at the spot that Homura had just been in. Homura noticed her chance. She only saw Kyouko's real shadow among the smoke clouds and the illusions were shrouded.
In a flash, she used her shield to block Kyouko, pushed her back, and fired the gun in her hand. The spear jerked out of Kyouko's hands and skidded on the ground from her.
It was over.
Homura panted. She hadn't realized how much blood had been spilt. The stone surface of the rooftop was decorated in drops of her blood. In all the times she had fought her, Kyouko had never quite snagged onto her so roughly, pierced her skin so many times, and ripped her clothing. She had meant to kill her but . . . perhaps she had changed her mind?
Another small puddle of blood built up around Kyouko's foot. She clutched at her side. Even Kyouko didn't know at the moment if bullets had bite into her skin or if she had been bruised by their roughhousing. She had taken a nice hit to the side against a pole.
Internally, Homura was ready to run to her if she was as badly injured as she actually felt, but Kyouko stayed firm. She didn't show her anything besides grace and fine control.
Now, Kyouko at least thought it would be such a waste to kill her and rid the city of a rival that didn't beat around the bush. She hadn't lost to this smartass—there was so much more than that to it. Revaluating her situation may be best.
Finally, Kyouko bent and retrieved her spear. When she straightened, her hair blew in the wind. Her knuckles grew red and strained as she clutched her weapon to her side and shook with vexation. She glared daggers at Homura. Homura stood her ground and said nothing. Kyouko's tooth dug into her lip.
"You're annoying," Kyouko spat. She turned her back on Homura and scoffed. "I hate magical girls like you. In the end, you use your words to scathe instead of hands. That's how your sort losers from survivors."
Hmura smiled a bit. She couldn't help it; she had heard this back and forth more than once. Besides, despite that she wasn't in the mood to smile, doing so pissed Kyouko off the most. And she wasn't too happy about her attitude. "If that's what you think, Sakura Kyouko."
Kyouko huffed. Irritably, she slammed her spear into the ground, and she used the force to spring into the air. There would be time to regroup and conquer. Tonight she would put the medical kit she had taken from the hospital the other day to better use.
"I'll be back for this city," Kyouko warned. "In the meantime, watch your back for me."
Homura watched her until she was out of sight. The smokescreen blocked her direction. She carefully tucked the set of pistols in her hands back within her shield's storage.
No, she didn't like to fight Kyouko, or any of her friends, really. But something about Kyouko's resolution to meet her again and fight made her heart hammer in her chest. Her mind was inexplicably drawn to her like a magnet to the toughest game of tug-of-war. The heat, tension, and danger were theirs.
Soon, they would meet again.