Before sulphur and smoke and bright lights can fill the air, they leave the theme park, feet dragging as they trudge along.
The crowd at the station is bare; hours still remain until closing.
When the train arrives, half filled compartments enable them to sit side by side, with little distance in between.
They sink into silence, Madoka with eyes red and puffy, no longer shining like they had been, just hours ago.
Homura already knows what she's thinking—knows the kind of conclusion she will end with; knows how much this will sway her decision.
Her chest hurts: a deep gnawing pain, one that has been with her for a very long time.
She squeezes her eyes shut, fingers pressed against the surface of their seats.
With a start, her eyes open as Madoka falls against her, leaning heavily on her shoulder. The smell of sweets still linger; the ends of pink hair tickles her exposed skin. Her lips part, but mouth dry, the words catch in her throat.
She looks away.
A touch on her hand, and she flinches in surprise. She sucks in a deep breath, and turns to Madoka, only to find her staring out the window, expression still distant; still dull.
Madoka still does not speak, no words said as her fingers seek Homura's in reassurance; Homura can only offer an encouraging squeeze of her hand.
She knows it's not enough.
Guiltily, she lowers her head, letting the slow thrum of wheels gliding along the tracks fill the silence.
She shuts her eyes close.
Her chest hurts, so, so much.
/
The night sky is clear, and if she wanted to, magic could let her see past the light pollution, far enough to maybe see the stars. Disgust twists her face ever so slightly, before it fades, and she's left with that familiar feeling, reminiscent of the day her dad had—
She pushes away from the balcony, turning her head to peer through the clear glass: Mami is still puttering about, moving from the kitchen to the living room, carrying dishes filled with sweets, and other foods as they bide their time.
She sighs, and cracks her shoulders, popping the joints, trying to ease the tension from her body.
It works, if only temporarily.
She steps towards the balcony door, one hand reaching for the metal handle; another deep breath, and then she slides the door open.
The warmth hits her first, a contrast against her chilled skin, followed by the aroma of sugar and fruits that hit her nose.
Her mouth waters involuntarily, and she steps inside, pulling the door closed behind her.
A glance to the table overflowing with baked goods, and another glance around the now empty room. Silence, occasionally cut with the faint click of a clock.
She snatches a pastry as she passes the table, and takes a big bite as she walks to the kitchen. The clock grows in volume the closer she gets.
The kitchen, and Mami is there, a view of her profile as she stands, hunched over a large metal bowl placed on the counter. There's a wooden spoon in her hand, but as Kyouko approaches, she realizes Mami's just staring, seemingly frozen in place.
"Mami."
Mami jumps, and metal rings as the spoon taps against the side of the bowl.
They both pause, letting the sound fade, only for it to be replaced by the slow tick: the pendulum that stretches across the ceiling. Kyouko eyes it warily, not for the first time wondering why Mami seemed fond of it.
A few more swings of the metal projection, before Kyouko turns to Mami, nodding to the bowl by her hands. "Need any help, uh, finishing that...?"
She cringes, hearing the awkwardness in her voice, but tries her best to ignore it.
Mami shakes her head, blinking slowly. "Oh. No—that's..." Her eyes dart to the side, "we're... out of sugar." She gestures almost absently, "I—must've used it all on the previous cake..."
The rest of the pastry is stuffed into Kyouko's mouth, and her words are muffled as she speaks, "wanmetogobwuysome?"
Mami looks her way, gaze unfocused, and when the usual reprimand is not spoken, Kyouko knows that Mami's not faring as well as she pretended to be.
Her mouthful is finished, and with two wide strides, Kyouko stands by Mami's side. One quick swoop, and her fingers wrap around Mami's left wrist.
Mami blinks, but her hand is held in front of her face; her eyes unwillingly focus on the silver band wrapped around her finger.
"Show me your gem."
Golden eyes widen, but the pressure on her wrist increases; she deflates.
The room shines in gold, dulling when Mami's soul gem reforms in her palm. Silently, Kyouko pulls out a grief seed from her pocket and places it next to the darkened gem.
The shadows seem to fade from underneath Mami's eyes, her skin filling with colour, no longer as ashen gray.
Kyouko pockets the used grief seed as she lets go.
A flash as her ring returns, before Mami casts her eyes to the floor, feeling the shame and regret building. "Kyou—"
"It was my fault."
Mami's head snaps up, "what? You can't—"
Kyouko's hands tighten into fists as she closes her eyes. "Sea—" she shakes her head, "Hitomi—" the name is whispered, almost drowned out by the sound of the pendulum, "I—saw her, this afternoon."
Mami takes a moment to process her words, realizing Kyouko had to have met her sometime in the afternoon. She licks her dry lips, "did you—say something to her?"
Kyouko covers her face with her hand, letting out a small bark of sharp laughter. "I told her that she had it easy; that she shouldn't go biting off more than she could chew."
Mami reaches for her, but Kyouko pulls her hand away, revealing darkened eyes that are still dry.
"I was probably the last person that saw her," Kyouko murmurs. She turns her head, her crimson eyes piercing straight to Mami's. "Someone will probably point me out when they start asking questions."
Mami nods slowly, letting her hand drop. "You'll... probably be called in for questioning."
"I'll have to lay low for a while—maybe only go out when it's dark." A humourless smirk stretches across her lips, "not something I'm not used to though."
Mami eyes her for a moment, not for the first time wondering of Kyouko and the life she had lived when she had left almost a year ago; another stab of guilt, but Kyouko's next words makes her freeze.
"You think... Kitty Cat can fix this?" Kyouko's voice is small, lacking her usual tone of bravado.
Mami swallows, pushing back that awful taste in her mouth that no amount of tea or sweets could wash away. "I'm..." she clears her throat, "I'm not sure. Akemi-chan is... certainly knowledgeable, but I've... never heard of any other ending for a Witch, rather than..."
Kyouko relaxes, eyes closing, face tilting up as her arms are clasped behind her head. "Yeah," she breathes out. "If things were that easy," she flashes her teeth, eyes opening, "then, we wouldn't even need wishes in the first place."
She turns to Mami.
"You want me to go out and buy that sugar?" She takes in Mami's appearance. "...Want to go with me to buy sugar?"
Above, and the pendulum continues to swing: up, and then down.
Mami hesitates, but when Kyouko raises an eyebrow, she reaches behind to untie her apron. "Yes, that does sound... like a good idea."
Kyouko nods, already turning her attention to one of the many plates on the counter. "Yeah. Some sugar... and whatever else you need."
They share a look, and Mami nods this time in understanding. Decided, Kyouko gives her a small smirk, before she reaches for a slice of cake.
\\
The air hangs heavy; suffocating. Homura breathes in shallowly, afraid that any words now will make whatever it is, shatter to pieces.
Card in hand, Madoka unlocks the door to their hotel room. She swings it open, allowing Homura to enter first. A timid glance, before she steps through. She bypasses the light switch unconsciously; her eyes have already adjusted to the darkness as she walks straight to the refrigerator.
There's several milk boxes in her hands when light floods in, illuminating the room. She turns, hearing the closing of the door, and watches as Madoka continues inside. She walks past the bed, and heads straight into the bathroom.
Homura's ears flatten as she glances down.
She's through her third milk box when the door opens, and Madoka steps back out. Sharp lavender watches every movement: soft footsteps as Madoka walks across the room, stopping once she reaches the front of their suitcase. It takes a moment until Homura realizes she's packing.
She takes one last sip, and then pulls the straw away. Nervous, she licks her lips, and is on the verge of licking her hand, when she forces it back down. Her ears twitch, but she shakes her head, resisting the temptation to reach for another box.
"We—" she swallows hard, "we can't leave yet."
Clothes in hand, Madoka pauses and turns to her direction. "What...do you mean, Homura-chan?"
Her voice wobbles, and Homura knows Madoka is seconds away from breaking down.
"...The room is under your mother's name; she—if we leave now—there's no reason for us to leave now..." her voice trails off; she knows it's a weak excuse, but she doesn't know how else to deal with Junko without raising suspicion.
Instead of replying, Madoka continues packing. She walks around the room, gathering, and then folding whatever clothes that had been left out. When everything is secured, the suitcase is closed, and zipped shut.
Homura rocks back on her heels, caught between wanting to dash to Madoka's side and comfort her, or going to the corner to sulk and drown her sorrows with milk.
Finally, Madoka turns to face her. "I'll call Mama and have her check us out early..."
There's a small rumble in Homura's throat, but it stops when she starts speaking. "What will you tell her...?"
Her tail has unconsciously been summoned, and Madoka watches it flicker around anxiously for a few seconds, before she focuses her eyes back to Homura's face.
She blinks, but the burning feeling is back, and seconds later, the tears once again well in her eyes. She shakes her head, eyes closing as she presses her hands to them, struggling to keep the tears at bay.
"Madoka?"
Madoka jumps, eyes opening when she hears Homura's voice besides her. There's a box of milk held out, but it's the sight of Homura that makes her eyes tear tenfold.
She throws herself against her, burying her face into her thin shoulder. The tears flow even as she tries to calm the sobs that escape.
An empty moment, until arms finally encircle her, and gentle words are whispered in her ear.
She hugs Homura tighter, knowing it is only a matter of time before that weak heart beating in that small body of hers gives up.
It only makes her cry harder.
/
The night is cool, and she knows it's not her imagination that the shadows seem to flicker and dance; she can feel traces of magic in the air; ones that growl with hunger, searching for victims to be kissed.
She reaches out with her magic, pinpointing the closest two: they are far enough that they pose no threat. For now.
When she turns back, slits of crimson are watching, and she pauses when she realizes those eyes are waiting for her response.
She is reminded that she is not a leader—that her air of importance is merely an act, and yet—
There are those who would follow her.
She shakes her head, and Kyouko visibly relaxes. She steps forward, Kyouko waiting for her so that they can continue walking side by side.
The store is close enough, and in a few minutes they reach the entrance.
Kyouko stops, tilting her head towards the building. "You... alright there, Mami?"
Mami nods, trying to ignore the guilt churning in her stomach. "I was just wondering if there's anything you'd like for me to make...?"
Kyouko blinks, but the mention of food hits a switch, and she doesn't hesitate as she steps forward, impatient as she waits for the door to automatically open. "Well..." she snatches a basket, and with her other hand, grasps the sleeve of Mami's sweater, pulling her along as she heads down the aisle, "if you insist."
Mami lets herself get dragged, listening to Kyouko's mutterings, letting it replace the other whispers in her mind.
/
The soft rumble from Homura comforts her, and with her eyes closed, she could easily fall asleep right here on the floor.
It's tempting, but instead she sniffles, and after she makes sure to memorize Homura's warmth, she opens her eyes, and pulls away.
The rumbling immediately stops, and when Homura looks up, Madoka manages a half smile even through swollen eyes. She dabs at her cheeks with her jacket sleeve, and with another sniffle, she moves to stand.
Before Homura can follow after her, she reaches over, removing Homura's cap and exposing those twitching cat ears. The hat is set aside, haphazardly deposited on top of the suitcase.
She turns back, and scratches Homura's ears affectionately. "I need to wash up..." One last scratch, before she reluctantly pulls her hand away.
Still sitting, Homura watches as Madoka walks to the bathroom.
After she gives a reassuring smile, she once again shuts the door behind her. With a soft soft, she leans against the door, feeling the exhaustion settle deep into her bones.
The silence of the bathroom fills her ears; the blindingly white walls fills her vision. The tiles under her feet are cold, and her cheeks are taut from her dried tears.
She shakes her head, and her hands move to slap her cheeks.
When she re-emerges from the bathroom, Homura is still where she had left her, and she smiles when she sees her once again sipping on milk.
The smile falters, and she takes a moment to steel herself, before she walks forward.
A deep breath, "I'm gonna call Mama now."
That unfocused gaze zeroes in on her, and though Homura's face is blank, the ears and restless tail gives her thoughts away.
Madoka slips her hand into her pocket, pulling out her phone. The screen is unlocked, and the sight of a familiar icon makes her throat close. She claps her hand over her mouth, sinking to the floor as she wills herself not to cry.
"Madoka?" Homura's voice by her ear.
"I'm—okay," she croaks out, leaving her phone nearby as she tries to push Sayaka's face from her mind. Eyes squeezed shut, she swallows quickly. "H-Homura—chan...?"
"Yes, Madoka?"
"Could you... get me some milk, please...?"
Something soft brushes against her cheek, right before the warmth from Homura disappears. Quick footsteps, rustling, and then the refrigerator slams shut, muffling the sounds as the racks inside rattle.
A deep breath, and Madoka opens her eyes just as Homura returns with an armful of milk boxes cradled to her chest. She is quickly offered one: strawberry.
"Thank you," she murmurs, accepting it. Plastic crinkles as she unwraps the straw, but she's distracted when she chooses to scratch Homura's ears again. "I'm okay. Thank you, Homura-chan."
Unsure, Homura offers her another box. Cracking a small smile, Madoka shakes her head. Once the straw is set in place, she immediately moves to take a sip. The familiar taste fills her mouth as the cool liquid soothes her throat.
She drinks, and drinks until only air comes up, signalling a now empty carton. The same milk box from earlier is offered, but Madoka shakes her head again, and sets the empty one to her side. Calmer now, she picks up her phone.
The unlocked screen, but this time she quickly swipes down, and then right, dismissing the notification.
She thumbs through her contact list, and selects the first on the list.
The speaker echoes with rings, and she grips her jacket as she rehearses her excuse in her head.
"Hello?"
All thought flees from her mind when she hears her mother's voice. "...Mama?" Her voice cracks, and she quickly tries to swallow the escaping sob.
"Madoka? Hey, is everything okay?"
She doesn't trust her voice, and instead releases a small sound as she nods. "Y—" she swallows again, "yes..."
"...Honey, what's wrong?"
She chokes down another sob. "Mama..." She hates how her voice sounds so weak. "Can—I come home?" She swipes at her eyes in frustration, "I—want to come home, Mama."
Her mother is silent, and she hiccups as she waits for her response. "Madoka, is Homura there? Can I talk to her?"
She makes another sound, and passes the phone over. Hands free, Madoka throws herself against Homura, pressing her face against her shoulder.
Swallowing nervously, Homura brings the phone to her ear. "Hello...?"
"Homura."
She gulps unconsciously. "J-Junko-san..."
Junko drops her voice, most likely because she knows Madoka is still nearby. "Is—everything alright? Did something happen?"
Her heart twists; so many things have already happened, but she knows Junko couldn't—shouldn't know about those. She nervously licks her lips, still tasting a bit of strawberry milk on her tongue.
"Homura?"
She snaps back to the present, "y-yes, I'm sorry, I'm here... Madoka..." she glances down to the sobbing girl, "...I think, today's events overwhelmed her..." She holds her breath, knowing that she was horrible at lying to these two in particular.
"...Are you alright?"
She blinks. "Yes, I am fine. It's—Madoka that—"
"Homura."
She stops, unsure of the tone that Junko is using. "Y-Yes, Junko-san...?"
"...I'm sorry."
Her confusion only continues to grow. "For—what, Junko-san...?"
She hears a heavy sigh on the line, followed by rustling. "Homura—are you okay with leaving Tokyo a bit earlier than planned? Madoka told me that she wants to come home."
"That's—fine. I'm..." She presses a hand to her leg, "...I'm finished with what I needed to do here."
Another heavy sigh. "Alright, I'll handle the hotel and everything else." Her voice drops in volume once more. "Homura... I need to tell you something. Is Madoka by you?"
She blinks, "yes...?"
"...actually, no, nevermind. It can wait. Can you put Madoka back on?"
"O-Okay..." She pulls the phone away. With her free hand, she gently shakes Madoka. "Madoka...? Your mom wants to speak to you..."
Madoka sniffles, and accepts the phone with shaking hands. "Mama?"
"Hey," her mother's voice is gentle, and she sniffles again. "Madoka... are you sure that you want to come home?"
"Yes." There's no hesitation in her reply.
"...Alright, I'll book the tickets to the train right now, and you'll be on the first available one in the morning."
Madoka glances to the clock on the night stand. "But—"
"It's not safe for two middle school girls to be at the train station so late at night. Please, Madoka, you can sleep at the hotel, and I promise you I'll book the earliest train I can. Okay, Honey?"
"...O-Okay, Mama."
"I'll mail you the information once I have everything settled. If you change your mind, that's fine too. Let me know, okay?"
"...okay, Mama. Thank you."
"I love you, Madoka."
She sniffles. "I—love you too, Mama."
"See you soon. Try to get some sleep, okay? Tell Homura goodnight for me."
"Okay, Mama. See—you tomorrow. Good night." She waits on the line, and after a few seconds of silence, her mother hangs up. With a shaky breath, she lowers her phone to her lap.
Homura watches her closely, body tense as she struggles, not knowing what to do.
Madoka looks up. "Mama—"
Homura flinches, but Madoka places a hand to her knee, trying to calm her down.
"Mama's booking the train tickets now; we'll leave in the morning." She sighs, and pats Homura's knee. "I'll... go wash up again..."
A small nod is her reply, and moments later, Madoka is once again disappearing into the bathroom.
/
With nothing else planned and appetite lacking, Madoka changes into her pajamas, and promptly crawls into bed. Her body feels numb, and she drags her arms across the mattress, slightly upset because Homura is not next to her.
She lifts her head, enabling her to see the figure hunched over the small table. Surrounding her are guns of various shapes and sizes.
She turns away, because those weapons are reminders of their not so normal life. Thoughts of Sayaka surface, and she presses the heels of her palms to her eyelids, trying to block the memories. The shock has worn off, and all that remains is the deep pool of guilt that continues to widdle away in her stomach.
Chest aching, she pulls her hands away, letting them hit the bed with a small thump as she stretches out her arms.
From the table, Homura turns, her sharp ears easily picking up the sound.
She's not close to being done, but Madoka takes priority, and she stands, sliding the chair back, making the wooden pegs scrape along the carpet.
On cue, Madoka turns as Homura walks towards the bed. The surface dips when Homura sits, and Madoka absently wonders how sensitive the bed could be, especially because Homura weighs nothing.
Homura scoots closer, "Madoka...?"
She shakes herself from her thoughts, and instead holds out one hand for Homura to take. The gleam of metal from her bracelet, right before thin fingers intertwine with hers. She relaxes slightly.
"Homura-chan." She clears her throat, "...what... what do we do?"
Homura settles in next to her, pulling the blankets to cover them both. She turns to face her, "...What do you mean?"
"...about..." Madoka feels her throat close, and Homura squeezes her hand, understanding.
She bites her lip, knowing Madoka wouldn't like what she wants to say. The taste of blood makes her frown when she realizes she has bit too hard. She absently dabs at her lips with her fingers, and then pulls it back to eye the damage as she thinks of an appropriate response.
Her thoughts are interrupted when her hand is grabbed roughly, Madoka now sitting up, looming over her.
"What happened, Homura-chan? Why are you bleeding?" Her grip is borderline painful, voice raised and almost hysterical.
She quickly shakes her head. "N-No, I'm fine, Madoka—"
"Homura-chan—"
"I—accidentally—bit my lip," she winces when Madoka digs her nails in.
Just as sudden, the pressure disappears, and Homura absently starts massaging her wrist.
"...I'm sorry." The horror on Madoka's face drops as her lips twist, and her eyes shut close.
Homura immediately sits up, reaching for her, but her hand is slapped away.
"No! I keep h-hurting you—"
"I'm fine," Homura hisses, ears pressed back as she once again reaches for her.
Wide pink eyes, and another fearful attempt to shake her off, but Homura stops her protests with a hard hug.
"You could never hurt me. I'm—" she closes her eyes, "I'm the one that keeps hurting you." She squeezes Madoka tightly. "Miki Sayaka—" Madoka stiffens, but Homura knows she needs to hear this, "...there's no way to bring her back." She hugs Madoka tighter, stopping her from replying, "you promised," she whispers, "not for me; not for Miki Sayaka. Not for anyone."
She holds Madoka for a moment longer, and just as she's about to pull away, Madoka returns the hug.
"You promised," Homura repeats.
Madoka nods. "I... promised."
"I'll take care of everything," Homura tells her, "so that you'll be able to live your life."
"H-Homura-chan—"
"I promised you, so you have to keep your promise too."
Madoka nods again, clinging to Homura desperately, feeling that ache in her heart grow.
"You promised..."
She chokes back a sob, and squeezes her eyes shut.
\\
The light is fading, enough that she's able to open her eyes; a slight detour, and crossed paths with a moving Witch.
The barrier contracts, melting into different colours, blending, and finally darkening into the night sky. She recalls her transformation, and moves to join Mami who's still sipping on her cup of tea. There's a grief seed by her feet, and when she's close enough, she stoops to pick it up.
Into her pocket as she straightens out. She glances over when there's a soft clink of dish ware; Mami lowering her now empty cup. Their gazes meet, and Kyouko looks away, eyes darting around the area.
"...This really never ends, does it?" It's not a real question, and they both know it.
A flash of light, and Mami returns to her regular clothes. She opens her mouth to comment, but they both freeze when a familiar voice echoes in their minds.
/I see you two are still continuing to fulfill your duties as magical girls/
Kyouko whirls around, her crimson eyes searching the darkness for the source.
White, and they both step back as he jumps down in front of them, eyes shining in the pale moonlight.
Red, and a spear is held out. "Don't come any closer," Kyouko growls, once again transformed.
Kyubey sits back, tail swishing behind him. /It is unfortunate of the circumstances that lead to Sayaka's demise; I was sure she would be able to at least last until the arrival of Walpurgisnacht./
Kyouko swings hard, slicing Kyubey's body in half. She and Mami jump when another appears almost immediately from the shadows, movements slow as it edges towards its former self.
/Humans are always so quick to respond to their emotions./ He shakes his head, and even though Kyouko repositions her spear at him, he leans down to start eating.
Mami frowns, and takes a step closer to Kyouko, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Let's head back, Kyouko. We still need to retrieve our bags."
Kyouko narrows her eyes, face twisting as Kyubey swallows the last piece. "Yeah." She shudders, wanting to get the sight out of her head, "let's get out of here."
/Are you sure it's wise to allow Sayaka to roam? Despite her low potential as a magical girl, she is quite strong as a Witch; I suspect that by tomorrow, she will be close enough to the city to cause harm./
With a snarl, Kyouko's spear once again slices through air. Another dead Kyubey; another immediate return.
Frustrated, Kyouko slams the butt of her spear into the ground. "What the hell do you want? Don't tell me you're here to offer condolences, because we all know you sure as hell don't care what happens to us."
Mami presses her hand down, but Kyouko ignores her, refusing to retreat.
/On the contrary, I do care about what happens. Time is invested in order to raise you girls to become Witches; if you perish before you reach your potential, think of how much energy is wasted./
Kyouko shakes her head, disgust growing at every second. "Yeah, well you sure got what you wanted; S—" she swallows, "Sayaka's a Witch now."
/It is an inevitable part of your contract, though the when varies between different girls. Sayaka was indeed supposed to hatch, but not quite so soon./
Despite her anger, Kyouko finds herself curious. She glances at Mami, almost, but not quite surprised at the daggers she's shooting in Kyubey's direction.
"Yeah? What, did she somehow ruin your plans?" the venom drips from Kyouko's words, but Kyubey does not react.
/Yes, it would have had a bigger impact if she had taken one of you, perhaps Akemi Homura, with her. Such an event would've made Kaname Madoka contract; I'm sure you're aware of her potential. She could bring the both of them back if she really wanted to./
Kyouko doesn't flinch when a shot rings out. She keeps her eyes on Kyubey as he crumples to the floor.
/I was merely stating a fact. You—/
"We have chatted with you long enough," Mami tells him, voice cold. She discards her used gun, letting it form back into ribbons as it disappears into the folds of her dress. "Kyouko." She nods to her, and then turns on her heel, dissolving her transformation as she moves.
Without breaking her stride, she starts walking down the street.
Kyouko gives Kyubey one last wary glance, before she follows, leaving specks of red in her wake as her clothes return to normal.
They walk with purpose, two sets of mismatched footsteps hitting pavement. They occasionally glance behind them, and Kyouko stifles a growl when she can still see Kyubey trailing after.
Under a flickering street lamp, and the last of Kyouko's patience wears out. She whirls around, jabbing a finger in Kyubey's direction.
"Why are you following us? Get outta here," she snarls.
/There were quite a number of victims that had perished from that Witch. She is much stronger now./
"Yes," Mami replies, glancing at him briefly, "we are quite aware of what happens. If you are here to antagonize us, unfortunately for you, none of us feel like turning into a Witch just yet."
She and Kyouko continue to walk.
Unperturbed, Kyubey trots along, continuing to follow as they make their way to where they had stashed their bags.
/It was unfortunate that that girl, Shizuki Hitomi had also perished./
Kyouko freezes mid-step. She turns around, eyes now narrowed slits. "I should've known you had something to do with it."
Kyubey stops, pausing to scratch his ears with his leg. /I had nothing to do with her situation. She was merely vulnerable to the whispers of a Witch./
Kyouko takes one step forward, but stops when Mami extends an arm out.
Mami frowns, eyeing Kyubey as he stares at them, unblinking. That familiar face reminds her of his lies—and she swallows hard, forcing her emotions down.
"What do you want from us? We have no reasons to talk with you; leave us alone." Her voice wavers, and the glance from Kyouko has her straightening her back. She clears her throat, "leave."
Kyubey tilts his head. /I am merely curious. You girls know that defeating Walpurgisnacht is all but impossible without Kaname Madoka. Now that Sayaka is no longer here—/
It's subtle, but they both flinch.
/—your chances have lowered even further. Humans are strange. Why do you continue to try, even though you know what the outcome will be?/
Kyouko crosses her arms across her chest. "What does it even matter to you? 'It is an inevitable part of your contract'," she repeats, spitting out the words in disgust. "What we do in that time is up to us." She glares at him, but suddenly smirks. "You know, I thought you were being awfully chatty. Don't tell me, are you lonely? Is the little white creature feeling sad now that he has no one to talk to but himself?"
He stares at her blankly. /We do not possess emotions like humans do; loneliness and sadness is not something we can comprehend./
Kyouko shakes her head, holding out her hands in a seemingly helpless gesture. "Sure, whatever you say, Kyubey. Why don't you just think about it, by yourself." She nods to Mami. "Let's go while the little incubator tries to figure out what he's feeling."
Mami blinks, but when Kyouko taps her on the shoulder, she nods. "R-Right." Another glance at Kyubey, before she follows.
Kyubey remains in place, watching as they disappear around the corner. /...Humans sure are strange./
He walks away in the opposite direction.
/
She tosses and turns, unable to sleep even though she's sure it's late. Her eyes open, and she squints as she waits for them to adjust to the soft light permeating in the room. Once done, she turns her head, searching for the clock: close to midnight. She flops over in bed, turning now so that she can see the figure that is still hunched over the table.
She knows that Homura needs to prepare, but...
She sits up, mouth opening, but changes her mind when she remembers how easily Homura frightens. Instead, she pushes the covers back to scoot off the bed. The difference of temperature from the bed to the room makes her shiver lightly; she glances to the thermostat, and after another glance to Homura who is still busy, she decides to at least make the room a bit warmer.
Across the room, and as soon as the settings are changed, the fan turns off with a small rumble.
When Madoka turns around again, she jumps lightly when she sees Homura looking at her.
"Sorry," she fumbles with her pajamas, suddenly feeling guilty.
Homura gently lowers the container in her hands, "no—sorry, was it too cold...? It... lower temperatures are better for gunpowder..." she trails off, looking embarrassed.
"Oh..." Madoka quickly turns the fan back on.
"Ah...you—don't have to..."
She shakes her head, and walks over to join Homura by the table. "It's okay, I can just get a sweater or something. How..." she eyes the various canisters lined up on the table, "how far are you?"
Homura hesitates, but when it's obvious Madoka won't change her mind, she answers her question. She pauses, mentally checking off her list. "...If I continue to work through the night, I'll be... close to half done...?"
Madoka's eyebrows furrow. "So little? But..."
"...There are a lot of preparations that I have neglected."
The reason hangs in the air, enforced by the way Homura deliberately avoids meeting her eyes.
Madoka steps closer, mindful of the containers also placed on the floor. "Can I help? If we had two people, it'd be faster?"
Homura looks doubtful, and Madoka is once again reminded of just how much she can't do.
"Sorry," she mumbles, unable to keep the hurt off her face.
Homura quickly shakes her head. "N-No! I mean—it's—it's not that hard... Simple measurements..." she gives Madoka a small smile, "most of the recipes I found online. 'Anyone with a middle-school level knowledge of chemistry can do it.'"
Madoka blinks in surprise. "...You found them on the internet?"
Homura nods. She pushes her chair back to stand. "I'll—I'll make some room for you." She pauses, "you really don't have to help me... You should sleep."
Madoka smiles weakly, "I... can't really sleep though..."
"R-Right." Homura starts packing canisters—finished bombs, Madoka assumes—into her shield. When she's done, she checks off something on a sheet of paper, before she starts stacking the small barrels to help clear out space.
Not wanting to get in her way, Madoka moves to retrieve a sweater from their suitcase. She pulls out the first one she sees—a black hoodie that Junko had bought for Homura—and puts it on. The fabric is soft, and she keeps her hands hidden in her sleeves, waiting by the bed for Homura to finish cleaning.
Finally, Homura carries over one of the chairs that had been placed by the door back to the table. She gestures to the seat, "you can sit here..."
Madoka nods, making her way over to sit down. "Thank you, Homura-chan." She takes a seat, scooting it closer to the table as she glances to the barrels, "so, where do I start?"
"Uhm..." Homura remains standing, absently tugging on her jacket sleeve. She ducks her head, and her ears flatten against her head. "Can—I—uhm..."
Madoka frowns, "...you said so yourself it's simple to do. I promise I'll be able to follow along."
Homura's tail absently flickers about, "no... that's not..."
"Homura-chan? Please, I know... I know I'm not that great of a student... but... I want to help you..." To her frustration, tears are in her eyes, "I said I'd help you. Please?"
Homura ducks her head. "N-No—it's—"
Madoka deflates, feeling the sting of rejection.
"I—can I have some milk first?" Homura blurts out.
They fall into silence, and the thrum of the fan fills the room, occasionally broken by the sound of Homura's tail as it flickers back and forth, hitting her leg as it moves.
Madoka blinks. She wipes her eyes dry, and looks at Homura who now has her head bowed. "Milk..."
There's a peek of lavender from dark bangs, and Madoka feels something inside her bubble up at the sight: she covers her mouth, shoulders shaking.
Homura lifts her head, and freezes when she realizes Madoka is laughing.
"H-Homu—" she can't finish the word, and clutches her stomach. "Milk—" she gasps out.
Homura's ears twitch. On one hand, she's glad that Madoka is able to laugh; on the other... she pouts, because Madoka still has not agreed.
"Madoka...?"
"I'm sorry—" Madoka apologizes in between fits of laughter. "Yes—t-that's—" another glance at Homura has her doubling over, "f-fine."
Homura quickly rushes over to the refrigerator, leaving Madoka at the table to recover.
Eventually, the giggles stop, and she sighs as she swipes at her eyes. She covers her face with her hands; the moment has passed, and she knows it's the wrong time to be laughing.
She jumps, hitting her knee on the underside of the table when something cold touches her cheek. "Ow."
"I'm sorry, are you okay, Madoka?"
Madoka winces, rubbing her knee as she looks at Homura and the box of milk in her hand. Her face softens. "Homura-chan..."
Homura bows her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"
Madoka extends her arms, wrapping them around Homura to pull her close. "Homura-chan..."
Homura stiffens, "y-yes, Madoka...?"
She hugs her tighter, unable to find the right words. She swallows hard, "after you drink your milk... you'll teach me how to do whatever you're doing...?"
Homura nods. "Y-Yes..."
"Okay." Madoka breathes in deeply, and after another moment, she lets Homura go.
Homura timidly holds out a box of milk.
She smiles, this time accepting it. "Thank you, Homura-chan."
Another shy glance by Homura, followed by a light bob of her head. She turns to her milk, ears perking, but blinks when she feels a touch on her ears.
"Nothing," Madoka murmurs, scratching her ears, "drink your milk, Homura-chan."
Homura nods slowly. "O...kay."
/
Late night television, and she flips through the channels, cycling past various infomercials trying to sell her products she cares little about. She repeats the process, until she finally finds something interesting: an old samurai movie with washed out colours and cheesy dialogue.
Settled with something to watch, she grabs one of the plates from the table, and squishes the cushions down with her body, making herself more comfortable.
She stuffs pastry after pastry into her mouth, laughing at the jokes, and accidentally dropping crumbs around her as she eats.
"Kyouko."
She doesn't look away from the screen. "Yeah?"
A long, drawn out sigh, before Mami stands, abandoning the table and her unfinished homework.
Watching the movie, Kyouko shouts in protest when the plate from her hand is lifted.
"Hey! I was eating that!"
"Yes, I know," Mami says dryly. She deposits the plate over to the table, and then starts dusting the crumbs, deliberately pushing Kyouko off the couch to reach those that had sneaked into the cushions.
Kyouko grumbles, and to Mami's exasperation, she shakes the crumbs off her clothes, causing them to tumble to the floor.
"Kyouko."
Kyouko blinks, and when Mami points to the mess, a sheepish grin stretches across her face. "Whoops. Sorry."
Mami shakes her head, "...it's fine." Holding the gathered crumbs in her hand, Mami walks to the kitchen.
Kyouko scratches her head. The movie still plays in the background, and she turns when she hears the clash of metal—her eyes widen, and suddenly, she doesn't feel like watching any more.
The screen is fading to black when Mami emerges from the kitchen, a small brush and dustpan in her hand.
She glances at the screen, noting the silence; the pendulum has already been shut off. "You're not watching?"
Kyouko shrugs. "Nah. Wasn't very good."
Mami eyes her for a moment, but when Kyouko offers no other explanation, she kneels to sweep the floor.
Kyouko awkwardly stands to the side, hands tucked into her pockets as she watches.
When Mami lifts her head, their eyes meet: gold to crimson. The dustpan is lowered to her side. "Did... you want to talk about it?"
Kyouko sighs, one toe scuffing the carpet almost absently. "...Nah, not really." She squints at Mami, "...you?"
Mami folds her hands together in her lap, eyebrows furrowed in thought. With a shake of her head, "...no, not really..." She turns, facing the balcony to stare at the city lights.
Silence, suddenly broken when Kyouko growls as she angrily runs her hand through her hair. "Mami."
"Yes, Kyouko?"
Kyouko reaches for another snack. She opens her mouth, but doesn't take a bite, "wanna come with me to buy some sugar?"
Mami blinks. "We still have some—"
Kyouko raises her eyebrows, taking a pointed bite of the cookie.
Mami sits up in understanding. "It's... rather late, isn't it?"
Another look.
She nods. "Maybe... buying some sugar will help."
Satisfied with her answer, Kyouko stuffs the rest of the cookie in her mouth.
Mami narrows her eyes at the crumbs, but she's startled as a hand clamps down on her shoulder. Kyouko points her thumb at the door.
"I'll clean it when we get back; let's go."
"...Alright." Mami moves to stand. "Let me use the restroom first..."
Kyouko waves her away. "Yeah, yeah, hurry up. It's getting late."
Mami gives her a weak smile, before she continues down the hall.
Kyouko quickly grabs a few more cookies, stuffing them all into her mouth. She ignores how her eyes burn, angrily wiping them, before reaching for something else to eat.
\\
Without meaning to, her eyes flutter close as her head droops down; she snaps awake, shaking her head when she realizes she had almost fallen asleep. A quick glance to Homura, and she breathes a soft sigh of relief. She frowns, and squeezes her eyes shut, before quickly opening them again, trying to will the sleepiness away.
Her determination lasts for a few more minutes, until her eyes once again close. This time, she isn't able to rouse herself awake fast enough, and the small container slips from her fingers.
Her eyes open in panic, but a pale, outstretched hand has already caught her mistake. She looks up, and finds Homura staring at her.
The shame makes her face warm. "I'm sorry..." she mumbles. "It won't happen again."
Quietly, Homura lowers the canister to the table. Madoka looks down, but when a hand gently touches hers, she raises her head.
"You should sleep if you're tired." The gentle expression Homura offers her does little to ease her guilt.
"No," she says stubbornly, "I'm fine. I just need to wash my face. I'll be right back." Before Homura can argue, she's out of her seat and heading to the bathroom.
Homura blinks as the door closes. Alone, and she finally lets her weariness from the day show; shoulders slouched, she shakes her head, ears flicking as she tries to force the exhaustion to disappear. She blinks again, and her head automatically turns to the refrigerator nearby.
When Madoka steps out, the cold blast of air on her freshly washed face has her shivering. It serves its purpose, and more awake, she searches for Homura, finding her now leaning against the counter by the refrigerator—once again sipping on a milk box.
Lavender cuts to her direction, and Madoka smiles. "Break time?"
Homura nods as she continues to drink. The tell-tale sound, and the empty box is pulled away.
"...Maybe I'll have one too," Madoka murmurs as she glances briefly to the table.
Homura tilts her head, not replying because she's already opening another milk box. When Madoka approaches her, she holds it out.
Madoka smiles as she takes it. "Thank you, Homura-chan."
Homura nods, and moves over to the refrigerator for another box. She pulls the door open, and stops halfway when she feels a hand on her shoulder.
She turns, blinking in confusion, but Madoka leans closer to push the door open wider. Homura tries to stop her, but a pointed look has her relenting.
Her ears flatten as Madoka looks over the contents: the inside is almost empty.
Her eyebrows furrow, and she gives Homura an incredulous look. "Homura-chan!"
Homura's eyes dart to the side as she tries to scrunch her shoulders in to make herself seem smaller. Her tail hits the counter as she struggles to think of an excuse.
She comes up short, and instead bows her head. "It... uhm..."
Madoka looks at the milk box in her hand, and then quickly turns to the trash can by the door: it's overflowing with empty boxes.
"How many did you drink?!"
Homura fidgets with the end of her jacket. "N-Not that much..."
"Homura-chan..."
"Uhm... you—you had some too, remember...?"
"Homura-chan."
Homura doesn't respond. She licks her lips, and Madoka knows if she had the chance, she'd finish the rest tonight.
She sighs, and shuts the refrigerator. When she sees Homura glancing at her, and then to the refrigerator, she grudgingly reaches once more for the handle.
Homura's ears perk immediately, earning her another sigh. The door is closed, and when Madoka turns back with another milk box in her hand, her lips twitch when Homura holds her hands out timidly, obviously waiting in anticipation.
"Homura-chan?"
Nervous eyes glance her way. "...yes, Madoka...?"
The guilt is still there, still toiling away in the pit of stomach; the anguish is still there, still threatening to engulf her body. She still hurts, and it still feels like she can't breathe because there's just so much wrong with the world—and she can't do anything to help.
And yet—
She lowers the milk box, gently placing them into Homura's cupped hands. "Homura-chan?"
Homura tears her gaze away from the milk. "Y-Yes, Madoka...?"
Hands over Homura's, Madoka takes one step forward.
Homura blinks, but she finds herself suddenly pressed against the counter, Madoka leaning in close. She gulps nervously, eyes darting from the milk, to Madoka's face.
"M-Madoka...?"
"Homura-chan?"
Homura turns her head, sucking in a shallow breath as she tries to calm her heartbeat.
Madoka pulls back, and gathers both milk boxes to place them on the counter. Hands now free, she gently places a hand over where Homura's heart is. "I won't—if you don't want me to," she murmurs softly. "You're always so nervous with me—I don't—want to hurt you, Homura-chan. I—" she reaches forward, holding Homura in her arms. She gently strokes her back. "...I don't want you to die, too, Homura-chan."
Homura blinks at Madoka's words.
"I don't want you to die," Madoka whispers, "but I know—I know you're—" she chokes, but shakes her head when Homura tries to pull away.
"Madoka—"
"Please," she croaks out, "let me finish."
Homura draws back, feeling the tears build in her eyes.
"I—" Madoka swallows hard, "I didn't get t-to tell-S-Sayaka-chan... I didn't—I didn't get to apologize to her—" she shuts her eyes, "I-I'll never get the chance to tell her—that I'm sorry..." She sobs, hugging Homura tighter as she thinks to that unread message on her phone. She sniffles, and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. She takes in a wobbly breath, "Sayaka-chan's gone."
"Madoka—"
"Sayaka-chan's no longer here," she repeats, voice firmer this time. "My best friend—is gone—and she—" her lips quiver, but she presses on, "she died, thinking that—I was still mad at her."
She pulls away, giving Homura a clear view of her tear-stained face.
She stares straight into Homura's eyes, gripping her tightly, preventing her from moving away. "Homura-chan."
Homura whines, and Madoka gently leans forward, placing her forehead against Homura's.
"Please—don't look at me like that."
Homura cuts her voice off, trying to swallow down that rumble from her throat. She's only half successful, and Madoka smiles at the strange sound Homura makes.
"Homura-chan?"
Homura gives her a timid look.
Madoka closes her eyes, feeling the emotions build up from inside. "I..." she breathes in deeply, and opens her eyes, smiling lightly at how Homura looks—like someone she had known a long time ago. "I like you, Homura-chan."
Homura stares at her with wide eyes. "I—" she mumbles something inaudibly.
Madoka wraps her arms around Homura, pressing their bodies closer. "I really, really like you, Homura-chan." She blinks, letting the tears fall, "I like you so much—and the thought of you—dying—" she whispers, "hurts so much. I don't want you to die... Don't leave me, Homura-chan."
Homura hugs Madoka, closing her eyes shut as the tears trail down her cheeks. She chokes on her words, and takes in a breath, hiccuping as another sob escapes.
"I-I'm sorry," Homura tells her, knowing exactly how Madoka feels. "I'm s-sorry," she repeats, hugging Madoka tightly. "I—can't—" her voice cracks, and she buries her face into Madoka's neck.
Madoka smiles sadly, tears flowing freely; she knows. She holds Homura for a moment longer, before she gently pulls away.
Homura's glasses are crooked, eyes red rimmed. She probably looks just as bad.
"Homura-chan?" She gently brushes the tears from Homura's eyes. "Want to go wash up?"
Homura makes a small sound, and nods.
Madoka slips her arm around Homura's waist. They stand, and lean against each other as they head to the bathroom.
/
"...Kyouko?"
"Yeah?"
"...Thanks for keeping me company."
Kyouko turns over, pulling the covers around her. "Yeah," she grunts out, eyes closed as she pretends to not be embarrassed.
By her side, and she hears a light laugh from Mami.
"It almost feels like a sleepover," Mami murmurs, "eating junk food and staying up late... telling scary stories."
Kyouko snorts, turning over again, trying to make herself comfortable on this unfamiliar bed. "Next time we have a sleepover, I'll do something about your hair."
"...What's wrong with my hair?"
"Nothing..."
Kyouko smirks to herself, listening as Mami mutters under her breath.
"Don't worry about it." She kicks her legs out, "let's just get some sleep." She emphasizes her words with a loud yawn.
"Right... goodnight, Kyouko."
"'Night." Kyouko waits, but when Mami falls into silence, she too closes her eyes.
\\
Lights blink in the distance; a darkened urban landscape as the city sleeps.
Even with the curtains pulled open, they can't see much from their room: walls of taller buildings, with just a peek of lights to the side. Seclusion, and a certain dreamlike feel; floating, and maybe they're waiting for reality to come crashing down.
She turns over in bed, legs shifting, cloth rustling, facing the figure lying next to her. Lavender that shines, framed in red. Watching her. She reaches out, hand gentle as it brushes Homura's hair back, giving her a clear view of her face.
A sharp inhale, and Madoka waits patiently for her to calm; she'll wait as long as possible, but she also knows that time is running out.
Slowly, Homura relaxes enough that her shallow breaths are a little deeper, a little stronger.
Madoka leans close, resting her head in the crook of Homura's neck. She sighs softly. In a couple hours, they'll be boarding the train to Mitakihara, and this dream will finally be broken.
"Homura-chan?"
Homura moves, the bed bouncing lightly as she makes herself more comfortable. "Yes, Madoka...?"
She closes her eyes. "There's... one week left."
The words fill the room, layering the atmosphere with a sense of finality.
Arms grip her tightly. "Yes."
She opens her eyes. "Homura-chan."
"Yes, Madoka?"
"...Earlier, I really meant what I said."
Homura stiffens, feeling the heat wash over her body. She turns away, "...you—" she shuts her eyes close, "I'm not—" she shakes her head, "you... shouldn't."
Madoka slips her arm around Homura's waist, "I like you, Homura-chan," she repeats.
In her arms, and she can feel Homura shaking.
"Homura-chan."
"You—shouldn't. I'm not—I'm not—who you think I am," Homura whispers, voice thick with emotion. "I'm—I'm a coward—I'm not—"
Madoka tilts her head up, effectively silencing Homura with a kiss to her cheek. "...I'm probably not who you think I am either, Homura-chan." When she hears the rumble from Homura's throat, she reluctantly she sits up. Homura is watching her, eyes wide in fear.
Madoka turns, reaching across the bed to the night stand. A familiar object is pulled from the drawers, before she turns back to Homura, holding out the grief seed.
"Good thing we're going home; we're running low."
Homura closes her eyes in shame, but Madoka knows what she's thinking, and gently takes her hand.
"Your soul gem, Homura-chan."
No response.
Madoka squeezes her hand. "Please?"
A small whine, but the room flashes purple, and the gem materializes in Homura's hand. Darkened spots, soon cleaned until it once more shines brightly.
The spent seed is deposited back to the night stand as Homura's gem returns to its ring form. Once done, they lie back down, and Madoka again fits herself against Homura's side.
"Are you feeling better?"
Homura nods, embarrassed. "Y-Yes..."
"Good." Madoka snuggles closer. "Homura-chan?"
"Y-Yes, Madoka...?"
"Do... do you like me?"
"You're—" Homura cuts herself off, shaking her head. She tries to pull away, "it—doesn't matter."
Angry, Madoka holds on, not willing to let go. "Yes, it does!"
Homura shakes her head, her hands trying to push Madoka off. "N-No—you're—forget about me, I'm not—"
"Stop, please, Homura-chan."
Homura freezes, hearing the hurt in Madoka's voice.
"Look at me?"
Homura raises her eyes, but quickly looks away again.
"...There's one more week left, Homura-chan," Madoka whispers softly.
Homura squeezes her eyes shut. "...I know..."
Madoka turns her head, pressing her face against Homura's shoulder. "If... if this is the last w-week," she swallows, trying to strengthen her voice, "...if this is the last week we have... tell me the truth, please."
Homura covers her eyes with her hand, feeling that ache in her chest grow. "I—" she grits her teeth, "I—" she chokes on her words, "you—you—were all I had. You—you were the only thing good in this world—" the tears flow, and her sobs and her words run together into a jumbled mess.
"I'm sorry," Madoka says, hugging her tightly. "I'm—I'm right here, Homura-chan."
"Don't—" Homura shakes her head, once again trying to pull away. "Y-You have your life, Madoka. You—you need to live—you need to f-forget about us—"
"How can you say that?" Madoka whispers, the tears once again filling her eyes. "I'll never—never ever forget about you, or—" she stops, and takes a deep breath, "...Sayaka-chan—or or Kyouko-chan, or Mami-chan. You're all important—"
"No!" Homura pulls away, sitting up. "Every time, it always ends like this! Y-You never listen...! You're always—!" she hiccups, and angrily wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, smacking her glasses away in the process. She ignores them, eyes angry as she glares at Madoka. "You—always say, that you'd remember, but you never do."
The anger bubbles in Madoka's chest; Homura's accusing words hurt. She sits up, feeling the frustrated tears grow. "Homu—"
"No," Homura hisses, her breathes starting to become painful gasps. She presses a hand to her chest, "you never listen—you always t-try—to—"
Worried, Madoka tries to reach out to her, but she's weakly pushed away. "Stop, Homura-chan," Madoka pleads, watching as Homura's face twists in pain.
"I'm fine," Homura gasps out, trying to will her heart to stop hurting. She tries again to bat Madoka away, but the pain has her collapsing against the other girl as Madoka holds her close.
"Your magic, Homura-chan!"
"I—don't need it," she coughs, wincing as she tries to suck in a breath.
/You don't seem to be faring very well, Akemi Homura./
Chill running down her back, Madoka throws her arms protectively around Homura. She turns, eyes narrowing at the familiar figure seen through the glass windows.
"What do you want," she whispers, voice low and angry.
/I'm sure you two are aware of Sayaka's transformation./
Hearing Sayaka's name in his voice makes her blood boil. She turns away, her hands concentrating on stroking Homura's back, trying to help her recover. "It's okay, Homura-chan. You'll be okay."
/Sayaka is a lot stronger than I imagined; it's rather unfortunate your acquaintance had also been caught./
Madoka freezes as the chill spreads through her body. She slowly lifts her head, turning to stare at Kyubey. "What... what do you mean...? Who—?"
Kyubey tilts his head, eyes glowing in the pale moonlight. /I had assumed that Kyouko had informed you./
Homura coughs, and Madoka barely remembers to continue her administrations.
"Who?" she asks again, the prickle of dread filling the edges of her mind with a sharp, almost blinding pain.
Purple light flashes, and she numbly realizes that Homura's finally healing herself; she keeps her eyes on Kyubey, waiting for his response.
/Just a bit longer, and she might've been able to form a contract./
Madoka grits her teeth. "Who?" she demands. She knows—she knows who he'll say, and she waits, breath held as she repeats the name in her mind.
/I believe her name was... Shizuki Hitomi./
Angry tears fall as his words twist that knife deeper in her heart. "Hitomi-chan..."
She doesn't realize that she's now the one being held, until Homura speaks. "Leave." Her voice is stronger, and Madoka collapses against her.
/Sayaka's power would've been beneficial during your battle with Walpurgisnacht; you are now one magical girl less./
Madoka whimpers at the reminder, and Homura turns angry eyes to Kyubey. Her words fail her as her tails puffs, and an angry hiss escapes her mouth.
Kyubey continues, unperturbed. /There are a few magical girls here in this city. You could recruit them to help. Though, it is rare for magical girls to compromise, which is why I find you girls to be so fascinating./
Kyubey stares at them, silent as he waits for their response. When Homura answers with another hiss, he tilts his head again.
/It would be fairly easy for me to contact any of them at this moment/
Homura tries to contain her anger, swallowing her sounds and turning them into words. "Is that a threat?"
He stares at her, and she knows it's not her imagination that makes his eyes glint. /It is merely a suggestion. Perhaps adding a few to your team would even the odds?/
Homura's tail angrily thumps the mattress. "Don't bother; we're not staying for long."
/You are leaving so soon? Sayaka and Shizuki Hitomi have yet to be declared missing. Unfortunately, their bodies—/
Madoka sobs loudly, covering her ears with her hands. "Stop—stop it—"
Homura hugs her tighter, eyes glaring at Kyubey over Madoka's shoulder. "There's no reason for you to be here; Madoka won't make her wish."
They stare at each other, Homura, ears pressed down, canines exposed at the dispassionate face. Kyubey swishes his tail, and finally bows his head, eyes closing.
/Very well; I've delivered the information I needed to. Kaname Madoka—/
She buries her face against Homura's shoulder.
/—if you ever change your mind, I'll be waiting./
He steps back, fading away and blending into the night.
Silence rings in their minds, only broken by the sobs that escape Madoka's mouth.
Homura presses her head against Madoka's, throat rumbling as she tries her best to comfort her. She doesn't know what else to do, except to hold her.
Madoka sobs loudly, clinging on.
"...I'm sorry," Homura whispers; it's the only thing she can think of.
/
Sunlight peeks across the horizon—the sky is transitioning from murky gray, into pale blue. In another hour, she'll need to wake Madoka.
But for now, she continues to stroke her hair, listening to her relaxed breathing as she sleeps. Each whimper, each pained cry is soothed away as best as she can.
Madoka shifts again, eyebrows furrowing from whatever nightmare that haunts her sleep.
She leans in close, voice low, "it's okay, Madoka, I'm here. I'm here."
When one lone tear trickles down, she gently brushes it away.
Madoka mumbles something, and her voice trails off, still obviously asleep.
Homura ignores her own tears, gritting her teeth to silence her cries. She shuts her eyes close.
Voice a mere whisper, "...of course I like you..." she swallows back her tears, "...maybe—I love you, but I—" she freezes, eyes opening, breath held when she feels Madoka stir.
She does not wake; she merely turns her head, pressing her face against the pillow.
Homura exhales a shaky breath. The tension drains, until the only feeling left is that usual emptiness in her heart. Her glasses are pulled away, and she angrily swipes at her eyes, wiping them dry with her hands.
When she is done, she stares at her glasses, at the red frames that remind her of how weak she is. She folds them closed, and instead summons her soul gem into her hand.
Another brief check to Madoka who still sleeps, before she holds her soul gem close to her eyes. Her vision slowly clears as magic seeps in. She takes a deep breath, and slowly starts rebuilding those barriers in her mind.
No matter what, she'll protect that promise; she'll protect that smile.
She'll—
She swallows, wiping the tears from her eyes.
She'll win, and will finally be able say goodbye.
AN: I had wanted to upload this earlier (for Madoka's birthday!) but alas, time, etc etc.
Thanks for reading/reviewing/waiting.
I hate editing; I'm doing okay; hope you're all doing okay too.
Happy belated Birthday Madoka. Take care.
