I will protect you. That's the thought I had when I began with all this. I began to lose my way. No matter how many times it took, I swore I would protect you.

I would take your life if it prevented you from suffering a fate worse than death, yet I would never accept the failure that would lead up to that point. God knows how many times. Yet, even when I doomed your fate, I stuck to my promise.

I would protect you.

And then suddenly you didn't want to be protected. You sacrificed yourself. You became a god. You wanted us who have fought so hard to finally find peace.

I've wasted everything you've done.

I know.

I understand.

I need to protect you.

I'm sorry.

I'm never going to lose you again.


The void somewhere between now and never was dark, yet familiar. Homura remembered this place. Many of the stars seemed dimmer, her thoughts rolling in her head as she was only partially a part of reality, waiting for the universe to rewrite itself.

What had happened… How many had she deceived? Cruel irony had its way with her, now damaging her memories after she had altered so many others.

She almost fondly remembered how, in a past life, the thought of Madoka began to slip from her mind.

At this point of nonexistence, she was hurting. She wasn't even aware of if her body was real or not, yet the pain she felt was blindingly surreal and disembodied.

She felt like she deserved this, simply accepting and bearing the burn.

Homura contemplated further who she was.

It was rather odd that her first memories to return were fabricated ones. The incubators had imprisoned her within her own soul. There were other girls, as well as an embodiment of unconditional love.

No, Madoka. That was who was there.

Sayaka Miki was there as well. She had saved her life multiple times, though Homura wasn't even sure if she had ever been in any real danger. She remembered falling, becoming a witch, trapped in its egg before it could hatch.

I will protect you from the incubators. That's what she had thought. Even if it costs me my life.

Perpetual deaths. She had been making her way to a guillotine with her decapitated form. It was almost amusing how fruitless her attempts would have been.

They didn't give up on you. Mami, Kyouko, Sayaka…

Madoka.

By some miracle the labyrinth was broken and your soul was spared, as best as it could've been.

And how did you repay them?

More memories began to come to Homura. The few stars that surrounded her felt hot all of the sudden.

You killed a god, Homura. You struck her from the heavens and cast her as a mortal in your play. But you weren't an unkind demon. You were fair. You repaid your saviors by granting them a new life. "Just enjoy it," you said, knowing the peace couldn't last.

Why did you return my ribbons, Homura? Why did you reject my love for you?

The stars irradiated, giving off an ethereal heat.

The peace didn't last. Of course. There was a battle. The casualties were unknown. Homura tried to recall… She was responsible for all of their deaths.

All but Madoka's.

The goddess awakened. You refused to fight. The battle was over quick.

And here you are now, a demon without a haven, trapped between reality and nonexistence. You are the embodiment of grief, want of love yet never able to be sated in any degree.

You rejected her love, Homura, and are doomed to never know that feeling again.

The realization came with no grief, no response. Homura resigned herself to her damnation.

I will protect you. That was the thought she had set out with.

She smiled.

It didn't matter what happened next. She succeeded, didn't she? Madoka made it through that month…

Homura closed her eyes.

I'm sorry it had to be like this. Tears softly formed in her eyes. I'm sorry I betrayed all you changed.

I'm sorry.

It's alright.

She opened her eyes again. The burning sensation was gone.

I haven't forgotten. Every time you cried; how hard you fought.

Homura saw something float in front of her face, towards her lap. She cupped her hands forward, catching two reddish-pink ribbons.

I'm sorry you had to suffer so much.

"M-Madoka?" Homura's voice was a faint whisper. She felt arms around her shoulders, and turned her head to see a young girl's smiling face.

Things felt more tangible, more real than before. It was oddly familiar. Homura began to turn her body, but was frozen, unable or unsure of how to react. There was bound to be wrath in there.

"You've been hanging on all this time, haven't you?" Madoka gently placed her hand on Homura's cheek. "I know who you really are, Homura… I don't hate you. I could never hate you."

Homura was stunned. She felt fragile again, tears welling up before she clenched her eyes shut, sobbing into Madoka's shoulder. The reborn goddess proceeded to caress and stroke through her hair.

"That is the Homura that I love… I missed you," she whispered gently. "You've made a mess of things, didn't you?"

Homura stopped crying, biting her lip, choking her tears to try and make them stop. She looked up to Madoka. Her tone was almost… playful, betraying her words. It wasn't scolding.

Madoka smiled, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner… I had to clean up quite a bit…"

"I-I'm sorry—" Homura began.

Madoka shook her head. "It's alright. It's going to be alright. It feels like I've waited so long for this…yet I know you have as well." She slid her hand down Homura's bare shoulder, down her arm, to gently clasp her hand, her ribbons between their palms. "I could never forget something so important… I still can see everything, Homura-chan… And even in the darkest hour I could see that somewhere, beneath the mask of grief you wore was a fragile girl who loved me with all her heart." The ribbon hung between their fingers. It seemed slightly animated, starting to weaves in and out of their pinkies. "And that is the girl whom I've been searching for for so long…" The red ribbon tied two small knots, one on each of their fingers. Madoka released her grasp on Homura's hand, displaying the thread that tied them together, a small, proud smile on her face. Homura looked down at her own hand, her palm becoming spotted with shimmering remnants of her tears.

"I… I betrayed you. I've hurt so many people… I ripped you apart—" the matter was not if Madoka could forgive her. She could not forgive herself.

Madoka placed her hand back on Homura's cheek, raising her chin to meet her gaze. Her eyes were glowing yellow, a dress of white now present on her form. The ends of her hair trailed off to the infinite. The stars around the two were no longer dim, yet no longer seared Homura..

"I need you, Homura," Madoka said tenderly. Ethereal wings spread out behind her. Homura reached up and touched Madoka's hand, which was sheathed in a white glove. A black glove covered her own, yet the ribbon remained between the two.

"You still have something of mine…" Madoka smiled. "The piece of me you stole… I want you to keep it. I want you to keep it safe."

Akuma Homura met Madoka's gaze. She stared into her eyes. There was no animosity, there never had been. Stern, kind, sad, no matter the expression, Madoka's gaze was always one of unconditional love. Homura swallowed the remnants of her sobs. She understood now.

They joined hands again. Homura nodded. She remembered what the incubators tried to do.

She, a being of curses, would bear the grief of the world. None of it would touch Madoka again. No force, incubator or otherwise, would ever threaten the law of the cycle.

"Madoka…" Homura began, once again in control of her emotions. Her violet eyes were assertive once more. "When I first became a magical girl, I made a promise I would protect you. That has not changed, even now…" Her voice trailed off, uncertain what to say next, becoming delicate once more. "Thank you…"

Madoka leaned in and kissed her, as if to say she was being too serious, or maybe to return the gratitude. Homura couldn't comprehend the hidden message as she was taken aback altogether. She regained her composure quickly, opting to return with another kiss. The demon pressed her lips to the goddess's, Madoka's demeanour going limp and lax as she moaned softly, the passion in the gesture seeming to say

we will never be alone.