End of Karma
Chapter 26: Shadow
SYSTEMS -19-
›
›I SAW A CAT IN MY WINDOW, ONCE.
›IT WAS RAINING, OUTSIDE.
›IT WAS SLEEPING SOUNDLY, BUT I COULDN'T HELP BUT TO TAP ON THE GLASS.
›IT DIDN'T WAKE.
›MAYBE IT COULDN'T HEAR ME OVER THE SOUND OF THE RAIN TAPPING ON THE ROOF.
›I TAPPED AGAIN, BUT IT STILL DIDN'T WAKE.
›I TRIED TO OPEN THE WINDOW, BUT I WAS TOO WEAK.
›I KEPT TAPPING, BUT EVENTUALLY GAVE UP.
›I KEPT THAT CURTAIN CLOSED FOR A WHILE.
›WHEN I OPENED IT AGAIN, IT WAS THERE.
›THE CAT STILL SLEPT.
›I ALWAYS LOVED THE RAIN.
›IT CALMED ME WHEN I WAS SAD.
›I NEVER OPENED FOR THE SUN.
›BUT EVERY DAY, IT WAS THERE.
›MAYBE IT WAS THERE TO COMFORT ME.
›CAN CATS SENSE THAT?
›IT WAS ALWAYS THERE WHEN I LOOKED, SO MAYBE.
›...
›MOM DIED, ONE DAY.
›I WAS SICK AGAIN.
›THEY STILL COULDN'T HELP BUT SAY THAT TO ME.
›IT NEVER RAINED THAT DAY.
›I NEVER OPENED FOR THE SUN.
›BUT THIS TIME, I DID.
›IT WAS THERE AGAIN.
›I WAS HAPPY.
›I NAMED IT AFTER HER.
›SO WHY?
›I WANTED TO HOLD IT LIKE SHE DID.
›SO ONE DAY, I OPENED IT.
›I HELD IT IN MY HANDS.
›IT WAS COLD.
›SO I HELD IT CLOSER.
›IF I COULD MAKE IT WARM, WOULD IT COME BACK?
›WHEN I THOUGHT THAT, ANOTHER CAT CAME AND SPOKE TO ME.
›...
›OMENS.
›IF ONLY, ONE WISH.
"I told you not to come looking for me in the middle of the night." Homura tells Madoka, as she escorts the young girl home in the middle of a storm, both covered by an umbrella for two. She doesn't respond.
"You could really get hurt, you know. The witches are trying really hard in this loop, and I can't protect you very well while my hand is still regenerating." Homura continues.
"Sorry." Madoka meekly apologizes.
They arrive just a moment away from the front door. Homura sighs, "Just stay safe, okay? I have enough to worry about. I really can't afford any chances, this time."
Madoka nods along, looking down at the ground.
Homura gives her a quick hug, "Now go on, your parents are probably worried."
Madoka nods again. Without another word, Homura leaves. Madoka turns around and slowly marches towards the front door, breathing deeply.
Inside, Junko is sitting at the table in her pajamas, tapping the surface and taking periodic sips from a glass of some transparent alcohol. She's been gazing up at the wall and into space for at least half an hour, and her entire body ended up getting stiff despite her restless shuffling about in the chair.
"Where the is that girl?" she wonders aloud. "It's the fourth time she's done this! Why won't she just call, or text, or something?"
Another minute passes with the rain beating against the glass doors. Junko glances outside and thinks, "I hope she's at a friend's house and not in the rain. Didn't even take an umbrella... What is she thinking!?"
Finally having enough after another minute passes, she gets up from her seat and pulls out her phone, about to dial Madoka's number. Then, she slowly turns around...
A silhouette in the doorway. Just outside the glass panes, something she can't quite make out. She takes one step closer to it, spying its flat, dead eyes that glow in the darkness. She approaches further, cautiously, her subconscious quickly taking over with something akin to imaginary, flashing memories.
The stormy sky cracks with thunder, the following lightning illuminating the silhouette. For a split second, it gives her pause. Surely, the silhouette is her daughter's, but the shadow which forms in front of her with that flash of light is an hourglass-shaped monstrosity towering over everything, covering her in an uneasing darkness far deeper than any normal shadow.
For a moment, she stands there in disbelief, with a powerful sense of nostalgia overcoming any relief or anger she could have felt. Not quite happily, but that which makes her stomach sink at the idea; something unthinkably horrible.
It felt like that moment had lasted an eternity. But as that single endless second somehow comes to pass, she can only make out the shape of Madoka standing before her, having come in on her own.
She can only stand, still overwhelmed by the alien, freezing atmosphere. Yet, she forces her words out, "Madoka, you—"
"I know." she immediately responds, as if having heard it a thousand times before.
Junko turns her head sharply as her daughter walks past, "You could have at least told me."
"I'm sorry," she says flatly, facing away, followed with a bit more feeling that she nearly chokes on "I had to see her."
Junko sighs, composure slowly returning as she pivots, "That doesn't mean you can just run off without asking."
Madoka is silent.
"How many times have you done this, so far?" Junko asks.
Madoka turns her head slightly.
"Five times. You've gone out late without telling anyone five times."
Madoka sighs, knowing what's about to happen, "Mom, please..."
Her mom's tone harshens, "I've never had to punish you, before. Don't make me start, now."
Madoka turns her head back, silent again.
A jolt of frustration runs through Junko. She's about to snap at her, but manages to hold back for her own good. Instead, she asks, "Who is she?"
Madoka takes a moment to answer, "...Homura."
Junko's tension lifts as she realizes what this may be about, "The one you keep talking about?"
Madoka nods.
Junko hums while pondering, "Kids her age only do this sort of thing for that reason, don't they? I never thought it could be true, but..."
She sighs in exasperation, "I get it."
Madoka suddenly looks back, a spark of hope being rekindled in her widened eyes.
As her mother passes by and gives her a quick hug, she tells her, "Why don't you invite her over? If you're going to get so involved with this girl, I'd like to at least get to know her."
The sudden shift in her mood leaves Madoka unable to properly say anything. The only thing she feels at that moment is simultaneous confusion and relief, perhaps joy.
Finally, she goes off to bed, "Now go, get in bed. We both have to get up early, remember?"
"You didn't have to stay up..." Madoka tries to argue, but her mom just walks away and waves.
By the time she gets to her bed, in which Tomohisa is already asleep, she can only chuckle and murmur, "Kids..." before collapsing onto the mattress and passing out in less than a minute.
Rain continues to patter on the window. More thunder follows. Eventually, the cascading oceans seep their way into her mind, and meld slowly into her dreams.
Rain continues to fall. But instead of being comforted by the sight, in the middle of a warm home, she instead stands on the edge of a railing as a great storm rages on above her.
She slowly turns her gaze up, dumbfounded by the sight before her: A massive black entity hovering in the sky, a doll spinning on an enormous gear. It's only when her senses finally come to that she finally hears its piercing hysterics that echo through the ruins of the once-great city.
The words simply fall out, "What...is that?"
A girl with long, black hair approaches from the side and answers her coldly, "That...is a witch."
Junko turns her head slowly, still shocked at the sight, "Homura?"
She can only barely recall the name, but it rings a familiar tune. Someone she once knew. But this didn't seem right. She had attached that name to someone — some idea, far more compassionate than the practical automaton she was looking at, now.
Homura continues, "I regret letting you see and know this much. Even allowing Madoka was too much. This is inexcusable."
"Where is she?" Junko nearly yells.
Homura closes her eyes for a moment, "Somewhere among the ruins, looking for me. If she is allowed to encounter this witch, she will surely throw her life away."
She can't respond with anything. No matter what feeling comes to mind, her words fail to manifest.
"This is why I fight." Homura adds. "Even if it costs me my life, protecting her will always be worth it. If I have to lose a hundred times to win once, then so be it."
Junko frowns in disbelief, "What are you talking about?"
Homura doesn't answer the question, "If you come upon her, take her back. This is my battle, and only mine. She cannot be allowed to die."
The word echoes through her head: "Die." And as if its mere existence gave will to the universe, itself, she finds herself standing in a place she never could have imagined herself in, before.
The witch is gone. It vanished in a bright flash of light, and now she stands in the flooded streets before the girl she knew as "Homura", kneeling on the ground. She slowly approaches, noticing that she's clutching something.
That sound she makes is familiar, yet foreign. A rare treasure. But "treasure" isn't the right word. Junko takes a few lanky steps forward before she recognizes the sound: Sobbing.
"Homura..." a weak voice comes from the thing she's holding. Junko can barely recognize it at first.
She comes a bit closer, and it finally starts to make sense. "It's okay." it says. She says.
She doesn't want to believe it. Doesn't want to see it. But it's here, in front of her. Though she looks down at the darkened face of the girl Homura is clutching, she isn't allowed to discern her identity. She stands, frozen, heart steadily sinking.
Homura apologizes to the girl, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."
They embrace. The dying girl whispers something into Homura's ear. When they back away, she begins to break down into tears.
She lays the girl down in the water, slowly pulling what looks to be a gun out from under the shield, strapped on her arm.
Junko tries to call out to her, but fails in that moment when she is finally allowed to see her daughter's face, beaten and bloodied, clearly in pain, but somehow serene.
Homura places the gun to Madoka's chest. Madoka gently holds her arm, one hand over hers, one thumb over hers, over the trigger. Neither can help but cry.
Just before she can hear the gunshot ring through her head, everything fades. Reality falls apart, and the rain finally stops. Junko shoots up out of bed to find herself alone. In the background, she can hear the rest of her family clamoring over something unimportant.
She stars off into the distance absentmindedly, with only the morning sun and reflecting dew shining upon her. Her shock and confusion at the dream that felt more like a distant memory fades, just as it soon would, but into a sharp scowl of determination. And there, she leaps out of bed with before-unseen fervor.