Les Fleurs du Mal

by Masterdramon

"There are women who inspire you with the desire to conquer them and to take your pleasure of them; but this one fills you only with the desire to die slowly beneath her gaze." - Charles Baudelaire. The direct sequel and conclusion to "Spider Lilies."

4. Part IV: The Pageantry Surrounding Her

Les Fleurs du Mal – The Pageantry Surrounding Her

Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Puella Magi Madoka Magica. All Madoka-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Studio SHAFT and Gen Urobuchi.

[-]

A/N: A quick sidebar. When I began crafting this story, the fact that I was publishing it so close to the Madoka franchise's 10th anniversary was purely a coincidence. It was simply a function of when I was able to free up time for it in my schedule.

But now, that anniversary has come and passed. And I'm sure we've all seen what was announced out of it.

Puella Magi Madoka Magica is my favorite anime of all time, and one of the deepest and richest fictional worlds I've ever had the pleasure of diving into. The fact that a canon continuation of its unfinished tale is now coming fills me with more excitement that I can properly articulate.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to Studio SHAFT, Gen Urobuchi, Akiyuki Shinbo, Ume Aoki, Junichiro Taniguchi, Gekidan Inu Curry, Yuki Kajiura, and the rest for returning to tell one more story in this wonderful, heartbreaking, utterly human saga.

And thank you to all of my readers for sticking with me to this point. In my mind, I am merely borrowing Madoka, Homura, and company – getting to play with these toys one last time before their "true" ending is revealed.

But in the meantime…as we all wait with bated breath for the day when we will be Turning the Tide of Walpurgis…

I hope you'll stick with me, and see my contribution to this tale to its final conclusion.

"If someone ever tells me it's a mistake to have hope…well then, I'll just tell them they're wrong. And I'll keep telling them until they believe. No matter how many times it takes."

[-]

Homura Akemi appeared in her old bedroom in a burst of black feathers. Then, she did something she hadn't done in quite a while.

She fell to her knees, and threw up the entire contents of her stomach.

Since she hadn't actually eaten anything in three days – what would be the point, when she wasn't trying to keep up appearances for Madoka? – this amounted largely to dry heaves and a bit of water. But it was still both visceral and painful, and left her feeling utterly pathetic.

Waving a hand to magic away the vomit, Homura forced herself back to her feet and then buried her face between her fingers. She was such a mess.

Her worst nightmares were being realized. Nagisa Momoe knew. She knew everything. And she was determined to share it with the one Magical Girl whose Awakening was guaranteed to bring this entire world crashing down.

In every time flow, Sayaka Miki was an idiot, but a dangerous one. That was doubly true once those flows converged, and the blue-haired girl was handpicked to serve as chief Messenger to her once-best friend. Homura still remembered their brief duel just prior to her rebellion, showcasing how much of a threat the girl could be when she actually put her mind to it.

And yet she'd left her memories intact. Memories of a conversation where Nagisa Momoe had all but revealed every detail of the truth. She and Kyoko Sakura both.

Who knew what they were doing with that information? Who else they might share it with? If they told Madoka even a fraction of what they'd overheard…

It would've been so much easier had Homura thrown caution to the winds and wiped all of their minds right off the bat. What did a little brain damage matter, when it came to keeping her secrets?

But Homura knew that would've been a self-defeating exercise. Sooner or later Madoka would realize something was wrong, and then things would go from bad to so much worse. It would've been hard to explain away why her best friend was suddenly a vegetable.

And, deep down…

Homura knew that she wouldn't have been able to stomach that outcome, either.

Much as she wanted to deny it, her reaction to accidentally shooting Kyoko Sakura had made it clear. There was still some tiny part of her that…cared for those girls. That remembered when they'd been friends and comrades fighting together, side-by-side.

Instead of obstacles standing in the way of Madoka's safety. Or patsies for the Incubators, pushing Madoka inexorably toward Contracting with their foolish actions.

As cold as she forced herself to be, for those three girls in particular – Sayaka Miki, Kyoko Sakura, and Mami Tomoe – it was always just a little harder to raise that mask of indifference.

Only a little, of course. She had, after all, murdered all three of them, dozens upon dozens of times over. Inevitably, the choice would always come down to them or Madoka, and that was never any kind of choice at all.

But she didn't have to make that choice in this new world. That'd been the point of it all. She'd given them perfect, idyllic lives; the ones they'd always secretly wanted, deep in their heart of hearts.

So that she would never have to worry about them again. So that Madoka would never have to worry about them again.

Yet now, that all seemed to be slipping away. Sayaka Miki had already been getting suspicious, her innately inquisitive nature pushing her to pull the threads of the pageantry surrounding her until she found the truth. Kyoko Sakura, naturally, was along for the ride, supporting the girl she cherished as best she could.

And…as for Mami Tomoe…

Homura stumbled into the other room of her apartment, where the older Magical Girl was sitting again, ramrod-straight and unblinking. If Homura hadn't been the one to physically drag her to the toilet and to bed, she would've sworn the other girl hadn't moved a muscle since the previous day.

"I'm sorry I can't be here more often," she said, though she knew the blonde girl couldn't hear her. "I shouldn't even care but…I do. No matter how much I tell myself otherwise."

She dabbed at Mami's mouth with a handkerchief, to clean up a stray bit of drool.

"It's been so long since I've been your kohai. Lifetimes," she continued in a low voice. "But I could really use some advice from my wise senpai right about now. I…I miss you. Miss what we used to have."

It was an awful thought to have, but there was something oddly freeing about saying these things to someone who was functionally brainwashed. She never would've allowed herself to sound so vulnerable, otherwise.

Which is why it surprised her so much when the girl began to whisper, "Homura-san, you shouldn't be so down on yourself. Remember that it's natural to fail. All of us experience its sting at one time or another. And I'm certainly no exception."

Homura's heart jumped with a mix of elation and alarm. How was it even possible that Mami Tomoe could be lucid enough to speak such things? Was there a chance, however remote, that she'd manage to recover from Suzune Amano's damage on her own?

But as Homura listened on, she realized that these words sounded…familiar. Almost like a recording.

Eventually, it hit her. This was, word-for-word, a speech that Mami Tomoe had given her years ago. An early timeline, maybe the seventh or eighth. Frankly, she was surprised she still remembered it at all.

She reminded herself that her old senpai was, technically speaking, Awakened. Sasa Yuki had done so at the same time as the mind-wipe, to ensure Mami would still be able to fight for her as an obedient soldier. Not realizing that her brilliant mind was the primary reason why Mami Tomoe was among the deadliest Magical Girls on the planet.

So even though the brainwashing had removed the blonde's ability to consciously access those memories, they were all still there, buried down deep. In her invalid state, Homura's words must've brushed against her subconscious, causing her to summon up and repeat one.

This was a development that warranted further investigation. But that could wait a few minutes. For now, Homura rested her head across the other girl's lap, allowing her melodious voice to wash over her.

And dreamed of simpler times.

"You don't understand, Tomoe-senpai," Homura protested, her face quivering so much that her glasses shook. "She doesn't…She doesn't feel the same way. And why would she? Kaname-san is so amazing and I'm just…just…"

"You aren't exactly a slouch either, Homura-san. On the battlefield, or otherwise," the older girl said kindly. "What you did against that Witch last night…I've never seen such a thing."

"All I did was freeze it in place. You and Miki-san were the ones who really took it down," responded Homura, looking askance and fidgeting with one of her pigtails. "And that's all I've ever been good for, really. Supporting others from the sidelines. Whether as a Magical Girl, or a regular one."

"Well, what's wrong with that?" asked Mami. "You know, I've had a great deal of experience walking the path of the Magical Girl. Both alone, and with you girls at my side. And I will tell you this: there is no comparison. Never underestimate the simple value of an encouraging cheer."

Homura heard these words, but she wasn't sure how much she believed them. No amount of "cheering" had ever turned the tides against Walpurgisnacht.

And no matter how much she tried to support her…Madoka's fate always remained the same.

"Just…Just don't tell her what I said to you. Please," Homura begged her mentor. "And please don't tell Miki-san or Sakura-san, either. They'd just make fun of me…"

Mami's lips dipped into a small frown. "I don't know about that. They'd have to be rather rank hypocrites to tease you for falling in love with a girl," she said. "Nevertheless, you have my word, Homura-san. I won't tell Madoka-san a thing."

Homura almost breathed a sigh of relief, before the other girl added swiftly, "But you should."

Even though she'd started using magic to repair her heart condition two time flows ago, the pigtailed girl suddenly felt as if the treacherous organ was about to burst out of her chest.

"I…I…I…" she stuttered, biting her lip so hard that it nearly drew blood. "I just can't, okay! Call me a coward if you must…I wouldn't disagree. But she can't know I have these feelings. And…not just for the reasons you might be thinking."

Mami let out a low, breathy sigh.

"Does this have to do with all the things you haven't been telling us?" she asked, her frown deepening. "I don't want to pry into your private affairs, Homura-san. But you can trust us with the truth."

Except the last time she'd tried that, the girl in front of her had gone insane and tried to kill them all in a murder-suicide.

They couldn't know. They would never understand. Never believe.

And especially not Madoka. She wouldn't burden the sweet, caring girl with the knowledge of the future. Shatter her comforting shell of optimism and naivety by sharing her problems.

No matter how much her heart ached to do so.

"Well, regardless. I hope you realize that Madoka-san isn't the type to judge you for having a crush. Even if she's its subject," said Mami after a few moments of silence. "I don't know if I've ever met anyone less judgmental, honestly. You know she'll accept you, no matter what."

She did know that. It was part of the problem.

"I'm sorry, senpai," Homura murmured. "I know you just want to see us both happy. But she can't be happy, with me. Not for long. I'm no good for her."

Tears were leaking onto the lenses of her glasses as she dipped her head forward.

"I'm just too…broken…"

In the present, Homura blinked her eyes open as Mami's voice petered out, and the memory faded into the distant abyss of the past.

Maybe times had never really been simple.

[-]

"Ta eat, or not ta eat," said Kyoko, holding the piece of cheese in one hand like it was a stage prop. "That is the question."

"Okay, first, if that's supposed to be Yorick's skull then that's from a completely different scene," Sayaka drawled, as they both sat down upon her bed. Neither of them had been able to stomach returning to school after everything that went down. "And second, when have you ever picked the 'not to eat' option?"

"When another girl already ate halfa it, an' left a note sayin' the rest'll pull us outta the Matrix," replied Kyoko. "I mean, no question somethin' fishy is goin' on. But I dunno if I trust Li'l Miss Polka-Dots any more than Akemi."

The blue-haired girl let out a sigh, tapping a finger thoughtfully to her chin.

"Yeah, can't deny she's pretty suspicious. Felt like I only understood every fifth word of what she was saying," she admitted. "Still, we're not getting anywhere looking into this mess ourselves. She clearly knows way more than we do. What do we have to lose by trying? Y'know…besides eating crappy cheese."

"Depends. If the truth's really in this hunka gouda…" Kyoko muttered, holding it at arm's length like it was radioactive. "Is it a truth we wanna see?"

Silently, without answering, Sayaka took the cheese from the other girl's palm. But before she could bring it closer, Kyoko's fingers seized around her wrist.

"Look…I haven't been completely honest with ya. There's somethin' I been…keepin' ta myself," she added, her eyes askance. "Ever since that mess a few days back, I been gettin' these…flashes. I dunno how else ta describe 'em."

"What kind of flashes?" asked Sayaka, her brow furrowing.

"Jus'…random bits an' pieces. Nothin' I can make sense of," said Kyoko. "But I know Tomoe's been in 'em a lot. An' Akemi. An' Kaname. An'…An' ya too."

"That's a weird bunch. I mean, I guess the rest of us have all hung out before, but why Mami-senpai instead of Hitomi or Kyosuke?" Sayaka pointed out, looking more puzzled than ever. "We barely even know her. Or at least…I wanna say we don't…"

There it was again. That niggling sensation at the edges of her mind, that she was missing…something. A disconnect between the rational part of her brain, which knew she was barely even acquaintances with the pretty upperclassman, and the phantom of a feeling, buried somewhere deep within her heart, that they'd once been close as sisters.

"Anyway, yer missin' the point," Kyoko told her after a moment. "My head's already screwed up enough right now. What if this cheese thing only makes shit worse? I…I dunno if I could handle that."

"Well…not sure if it's any consolation…" whispered Sayaka, placing a hand upon her roommate's. "But I'm gonna be here, doing it with you. We'll take it at whatever pace you're comfortable with."

A few seconds passed before she realized what she'd just said, and her pale cheeks flushed crimson.

"Oh geez, that came out so wrong," she groaned. "Look, you know what I mean! I think we should eat the cheese. But we'll do it together."

Kyoko's jaw clenched tight, and she fidgeted anxiously. But she didn't pull her hand away from the blue-haired girl's, which the latter saw as a good sign.

"Fine," she said finally, taking hold of the cheese block from the other end and pulling. The gouda was fairly soft, and separated easily, leaving them each with one half. "On three, then. One…"

Both girls lifted the cheese to their faces, hesitantly opening their mouths.

"Two…"

Blue eyes met scarlet ones, their depths quivering with any number of unsaid things. This would be their last chance to back out.

"Three!"

At the very same time, they both chomped down, swallowing the remaining cheese in one bite.

Then they both slumped across the bed, instantly unconscious.

[-]

Meanwhile, at the edge of Asunaro City, four girls walked toward the border with the next town over. The one in the lead was skipping merrily, like she was a five-year-old playing hopscotch.

"We're going to Hohzuki City! We're going to Hohzuki City!" declared Sasa Yuki in the form of an improvised, off-key song. "We've got another slave and we're going to Hohzuki Cityyyyyyyyy!"

It took a very special sort of person to be more offended by Sasa's tunelessness than her proud admission that she practiced slavery, but Alina Gray had been called "special" many times throughout her life. Albeit in vastly differing contexts.

Regardless, she clapped her hands over her ears and said, "Mio Dio! Cease that baccano at once! Alina is trying to concentrate!"

Sasa cocked her head to the side and batted her eyelashes playfully.

"Don't be rude, signorina," she shot back, intentionally mangling the pronunciation as hard as she possibly could. "No one else seems to have a problem with my musical charms! Isn't that right, my sweet Suzune? How about our newest recruit?"

Umika Misaki slowly raised her head, blinking uncomprehendingly. Her expression was blank, and her mouth hung open slightly, as she spoke in a dull voice, "Whatever you say, my Queen."

"Damn, you did a great job with this one!" exclaimed Sasa, grabbing her new servant by the chin and squeezing her cheeks together. Umika didn't react in any way whatsoever. "Just as obedient as that Tomoe bimbo! Though hopefully not quite as useless."

Suzune knew she should've been enthused to receive such praise from Matsuri, but for whatever reason, the words just left her cold and empty instead.

It was getting harder and harder to reconcile the horrific actions she was being ordered to take with the incontrovertible knowledge that it was sweet, innocent, couldn't-hurt-a-fly Matsuri Hinata that was giving the orders. But every time her subconscious started to pull on that thread, she got a mind-splitting headache, and instinctively switched over to some other topic.

She could not disobey, or even think about, her truths. It was utterly, physically impossible.

So instead, she thought about the memories she'd just finished removing from the bookish girl. Of her childhood spent honing her craft as an author, writing page after page until she was satisfied with her masterpiece. Of her dismay as an unscrupulous editor tricked her into signing away her manuscript, releasing it under another author's name and paying her a relative pittance. Of her first meeting with Kyubey, and her Wish to meet a new editor who would handle her work with care – netting her a not-inconsiderable sum of fame and fortune in the process.

Unsurprisingly, then, Umika's mind had "felt" like a book, with Suzune turning back page after page to reach the memories sealed beneath the Devil's machinations. That was a curious thing about this magic; everyone's mind was a little different.

Digging through Mami Tomoe's memories had felt like poking at the individual threads of some finely woven tapestry. Kyoko Sakura was akin to peeling a layered food, like an onion or artichoke. Kirika Kure…Suzune was glad she hadn't needed to dig too deeply there, because her mind hadn't really felt like anything. Just a big, overwhelming black hole, centered around her singular obsession and discarding absolutely everything else.

Umika's brain had been comparatively well-organized, and thus easier to deal with. The "chapters" followed sequentially, even if the time she'd spent as a Magical Girl appeared only as blank pages to her own mind.

Forcing her way through those barriers, Suzune had seen Umika and six other girls come together, learning the awful truth of the Magical Girl system and resolving to change it. She'd seen the newly formed Pleiades Saints "reprogram" a dead Incubator into their own servant, "Jubey," who would cleanse the girls' Soul Gems for them and eliminate the need to hunt Witches.

And, naturally, she'd seen it all come crashing down, as the real Kyubey strode calmly onto the scene of their final battle and informed them – in that infuriatingly cool, logical voice of his – that their experiment had been a failure, and that all Jubey could do was give Soul Gems the appearance of being purified.

Suzune sympathized with their plight, deeply. Who among them hadn't wanted to escape the vicious cycle their Contracts had doomed them into?

But she knew it was a fool's errand. Ultimately, they were all Witches in the making. There was only one way to "save" a Magical Girl from their fate.

Suzune turned her blade on its side, seeing her red eyes reflected in its surface.

Thankfully, Matsuri's house was on the side of Hohzuki that bordered Asunaro, so they were able to make it there on foot without too much trouble. Before they could approach, however, Sasa threw out her hand.

"You better stay behind, Suzune," she said. "I want a chance to speak to Kagari alone first. Ahem…sister to sister."

It was a good thing she added the next words under her breath, too quiet for Suzune to hear, because it would've caused the assassin a lot of grief trying to make sense of, "Can't risk you running into the real Matsuri Hinata. That'd be a shitshow."

"Well, Alina doesn't want to miss this. She's sure it'll be molto divertente," declared the green-haired artist, flashing another one of her not-quite-stable grins. "So that leaves our servi to hold down the fort out here. You'll be good for Alina, won't you?"

A vein pulsed in Sasa's temple at the word "our," but she didn't say anything. Instead she ordered Umika, "Transform and do that mind-reading thing you do. Tell me how many people are in there."

"Yes, my Queen," the enslaved girl stated tonelessly, holding her Soul Gem aloft and releasing a burst of mana across her body.

Umika's Magical Girl uniform resembled a nun's habit, stainless and white, with several bronze crosses accenting its frock and sleeves. She wore glasses in this form, despite her eyesight being perfect, and carried a completely empty book in her left hand.

"Activate, X-File," she called out, directing an arm toward the apartment complex across the street.

The book flipped open of its own accord, and tight, neat handwriting began to appear upon it. Page after page was filled with information, which Umika bent down to scrutinize.

"Three occupants within the residence. One male and two female," she said. "The male is Takashi Hinata, age forty-four, employed as a software engineer at Jigokumeguri System Engineering. Mildly overweight and prematurely balding. Easily frightened by loud noises, with a specific phobia of thunder. Most vulnerable to psychological attacks that remind him of his deceased wife."

She licked her finger and turned a page. "Next occupant, Kagari Hinata, age thirteen, student at Akanegasaki Middle School," she began to read off. "Fairly average physiology and mana levels for an Unawakened Magical Girl. Incredibly possessive personality, prone to fits of anger. Most vulnerable to…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get the picture. The dad and the two brats, just like we expected," Sasa interrupted her, waving a dismissive hand. "Forgot that magic of yours gives us their whole fucking life's story."

She gestured toward Alina with her thumb.

"Come on, then. Not like we have all day," she added, pressing her hand against the apartment building's front door. A small surge of mana easily disabled the electronic lock, causing it to swing open. "You two, wait in the lobby. Don't touch anything or talk to anybody."

Both Suzune and Umika nodded their assent – not that the latter was capable of doing much else. They watched on as Sasa and Alina called down an elevator, and then they were gone.

Suzune remained rooted in place, unsure of what to do now. Even if she hadn't hollowed out Umika Misaki's brain, it wasn't like she could engage the writer in conversation now. Matsuri's orders hadn't made an exception for them to talk to each other.

So instead, they just waited in that apartment lobby, silent as statues. It occurred belatedly to Suzune that Matsuri had also failed to order them to transform back, so between their outfits they would probably draw quite some attention if anyone else happened to walk in. But there was nothing they could do about that now.

As it so happened, their appearances turned out to be as far as possible from the real issue. Because the next person to walk in quite literally walked in – to Suzune, specifically. They both tumbled to the ground in a heap, clutching at their heads.

"Ouch…ooh, I'm such a klutz…" said the offender in a light, girly voice. "Whoever you are, I'm so, so sorry! I hope you didn't get hurt!"

Suzune couldn't have responded even if she wanted to; truthfully, she was hardly in the mood right now to get knocked around like this. Couldn't this girl watch where she was going?

But those thoughts stopped in their tracks as she saw a white cane had clattered to the ground where they fell, which the other girl was helplessly feeling around for.

And they ground to an absolute halt once she realized who the girl was.

Suzune's mind was sent reeling. This couldn't be Matsuri. She'd just seen her board the elevator not two minutes ago.

Yet there was that very same forest-green hair, tied into thin braids that reached past her waist. That kindly, smiling face. Those eyes, warm and gentle but also faded in hue, marking the blindness she'd been afflicted with since birth.

But that…that wasn't right. Matsuri had Wished to be granted sight, and the Devil didn't have the power to reverse Wishes. Only to make Magical Girls forget they'd made them in the first place. Matsuri's renewed blindness should've been psychosomatic, and reversed easily once she Awakened.

Now, though? This looked just like Matsuri on the day they met, all those months ago. When Suzune had just lost her surrogate mother Tsubaki, and unexpectedly came face-to-face with the other two girls she'd left behind.

None of this made sense, none of it. Suzune fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands, her mind feeling like it was about to split in two. This was all too much…too much…

"I'm getting worried I really did hurt you," the other girl whimpered. "Please, answer me."

And suddenly, those words cut through the rest of the din, until nothing else mattered. One of her truths blazed across her brain.

I must obey Matsuri Hinata.

"I'm fine," said Suzune automatically, the new command overriding the previous one.

"Oh, that's good to hear," spoke the green-haired girl, breathing a sigh of relief. "You know, I don't recognize your voice. Who are you? What brings you to our building?"

The earlier order of "answer me" remained in effect, so Suzune was helpless to prevent the next words from spilling from her lips.

"My name is Suzune Amano. A Magical Girl," she responded, unable even to lie by omission. "We're here to kidnap and enslave your sister."

[-]

Madoka walked along the banks of the river that ran straight through Mitakihara City, her pace positively glacial.

After forwarding her mother's email to her aunt, Akane had advised her to walk to the park near the school and wait there. The airport was a lot closer to her current location than it was to the Inoue-Kunizuka residence, so if they had to drive out here anyway she might as well save herself the bus trip.

It was a sensible suggestion, but since her aunts would be doing errands until around five, it left her with a fair bit of time to kill once school let out.

Despite the encouraging talk with Hitomi and Kyosuke, the pink-haired girl was feeling if anything more listless now than she had at lunch. Hitomi had another of her million extracurriculars to get to, and Kyosuke had to get home for (of course) more violin practice, so for the first time in what felt like years Madoka was walking home alone.

So at a stroll so languid that it was only a few steps ahead of standing still, Madoka followed the path of the river, knowing it would eventually take her to Uki Doki Memorial Park.

As the thought crossed her mind, she found herself frowning. Had it always been called that? For some reason, she thought she remembered the park under a different name. This one sounded kind of…weird.

But she dismissed the notion almost as soon as it popped up. She was just being silly. And besides…

There were way more important things to worry about right now.

Chief among them were Sayaka and Kyoko. The two had left school a little before noon to meet up with the mysterious emailer, and never returned. More concerningly, Sayaka hadn't answered any of her texts since.

Hopefully everything had gone okay. She'd tried to tell her friends that she thought the whole thing was a bad idea, but of course she'd folded after about two seconds of pushback.

If Sayaka and Kyoko wound up getting hurt because she was too much of a wimp to argue with them…

Well, there was no way she'd ever be able to forgive herself.

And then, of course…there was Homura. The more she thought about it, the less Madoka could believe her "unscheduled absence" was genuine. The timing was too much of a coincidence.

Another sin to add to the pile; apparently she'd gone and made Homura so uncomfortable that she was willing to skip school to avoid her. As if Madoka didn't have enough to feel guilty about.

She thought of sending a message her way as well, but hesitated before she could do anything more than lift her thumb. Homura couldn't have made it clearer that she wanted space from her.

To ignore that and bug her anyway…well, her mama had taught her better than that.

So after typing out and sending another handful of texts to Sayaka's phone, Madoka let out a long sigh and tried to think of something else. Worrying about her friends – or whatever Homura was to her these days – wasn't going to do any good for them now.

Fortunately, she at least had the distraction that the day was absolutely gorgeous. So many people were out here, enjoying the river and the grassy hills that surrounded it. Even in her current funk, it was hard not to smile at the sound of children laughing as they played tag, or a group of dogs barking happily while their elderly owner took them out for a walk.

Among all the passersby, however, one in particular caught her eye. He was sitting right on the riverbank, his legs partially in the water, and while at first she thought he might be fishing, soon it became clearer that he was actually feeding the ducks.

Or…duck, she should say. There was only one, a cute yellow thing with one of its feathers standing straight up on its head.

The boy himself looked just a little older than her, with tanned skin and dark green hair. She'd never actually met such a person before so she couldn't be certain, but she thought he might be of Middle Eastern descent. Either way, his neat blue uniform made him look quite smart, and contrasted strongly against his surroundings.

"Oh…hello," he said, causing Madoka to flush; it seemed he'd noticed her staring. "Would you like to feed her too? Don't worry, she doesn't bite."

Unsure how to respond to that, Madoka found herself walking closer to the river's edge, and taking a seat beside the strange boy. He handed her a palmful of his feed, which looked like a mix of rice, oats, and vegetable trimmings.

"A lot of people assume you should use bread, but that's actually bad for ducks. It's basically junk food for them," he explained. "Now, the trick is to let her come to you. Hold your hand out and low, like you're feeding a cat."

"Umm…okay…" Madoka muttered awkwardly, doing as instructed.

At first, the duck ignored her completely, which didn't exactly do much to improve her general malaise. But after a few seconds, the expression in the bird's blue eyes (did ducks typically have blue eyes? Or expressions in general?) seemed to shift, and she drifted over to Madoka's outstretched hand.

Her heart immediately softened at the sight of the duck accepting her offering. She suppressed the urge to giggle; the bill was tickling her palm as it swallowed one mouthful after another.

"I never see ducks around this part of the river," Madoka stated conversationally, now feeling far more at ease. Cute animals always had that effect with her. "Is she your pet?"

The boy's face shifted into an odd sort of half-smile, half-grimace. "I guess that's…close enough," he answered. "My place is small, so I take her out here every few days to stretch her feathers. Say, want to see something interesting?"

He pulled something out of his pocket – what looked like a small, portable music player. He set it along the bank, inserted a CD, and turned it on.

Instantly the air was filled with music. It wasn't the type of music Madoka listened to; more the lilting, classical melodies that Kyosuke typically played. Still, she thought it sounded vaguely familiar.

"Danse des petits cygnes," he said, which despite Saotome-sensei's best efforts, Madoka didn't understand a word of. "It's from the ballet, Swan Lake. Now, please watch."

His voice was so breathy and full of wonder that Madoka couldn't help but follow his eyeline. He was watching the duck, who was now standing on the shore.

Then a gasp caught in her throat, as she watched the duck begin to dance.

It was, objectively speaking, not an especially graceful performance. With webbed feet and wings, it was rather difficult for the bird to match up to the kind of elegance and poise that Madoka had witnessed in online videos of professional ballerinas.

Yet she was fully and utterly captivated. Madoka could barely blink as she watched the duck step and twirl along the riverbank, moving in time to the music. The simple fact that she was putting in so much effort, despite her physical limitations, was spellbinding.

Eventually, the duck grew visibly tired, so the boy turned off the music and stowed the player away. The duck lowered her beak, in what might've been meant as an imitation of a bow.

Madoka resisted the urge to clap, worried she might spook the poor thing. Instead she turned back to the boy, who was beaming.

"I never get tired of that. No matter how many times I see it," he told her. "She's such a sweet, kind girl. She never stops giving, even in little ways like this."

The pink-haired girl would've returned his smile, had he not abruptly added, "You're the same, I think."

"Uh…umm…" Madoka sputtered, feeling suddenly on the spot. "Wait, what?"

"It's probably not my place to say anything. But I saw the expression on your face before you started feeding her," said the boy. "I recognized it…because it's the same expression I used to wear, all the time."

He let out a low sigh, before continuing, "It's the look you have when you know you've screwed up. Hurt someone. And you're not sure how to make it right."

Madoka wasn't sure where he was going with this. Wasn't sure why a complete stranger, whose name she didn't even know, was offering her all this unsolicited advice.

And yet, dimly, she found herself nodding along.

"The important thing to keep in mind is that everyone makes mistakes. It doesn't make you a bad person. It's how we respond to our mistakes that defines who we are," remarked the boy. "I used to see myself as having one, specific role. A role where I didn't have any choice but to cause others to suffer, because that seemed like the only way I could protect someone very precious to me. That was…until I met this one here."

He held his hand out, and the duck nuzzled at it tenderly. There was genuine affection in both of their eyes – a bond that seemed to go beyond pet and owner.

"She danced, and through that dance I learned this lesson: that we all make our own stories. We aren't beholden to the whims of some unseen author of fate," he said, his voice now a gentle whisper. "If you remember nothing else, then please don't forget that. It would've saved me a lot of heartache had I realized it from the start."

Madoka still wasn't sure what to say to all this. So she settled for a muted, sincere, "Thank you. I appreciate it, Mister…umm…"

"Oh, how rude of me. We never even introduced ourselves! This is Duck," the boy responded, gesturing to the tiny fowl. The name seemed remarkably on the nose, but who was she to judge? "And I'm…"

"Fakir," another voice cut him off sharply. "You aren't needed here."

Madoka glanced up in shock. Standing at the top of the hill was Homura Akemi, her long hair flowing in the wind.

"H…H…Homura-chan!" she stammered. In a sea of a million other questions vying for attention, the most immediate one fell out of her lips. "Do…Do you know each other?"

"We are…acquainted," Homura said, frowning. "But never you mind, Madoka. They aren't any of your concern."

Madoka opened her mouth to protest, but her words fell away once she glanced back to the riverbank.

The boy and the duck were gone without a trace. As if they'd never been there in the first place.

[-]

Kyoko wasn't entirely sure where she was, but she was fairly sure she didn't like it.

Everything was black, and yet it wasn't. Like she was looking through a filter that darkened and blurred her surroundings until they all blended together into one hazy, indistinct mess.

Meanwhile her whole body was wracked by that feeling you get when falling in a nightmare, except there was no sense she might wake up anytime soon. Instead the vertigo and nausea just kept building and building, with no outlet for release.

"Jus' my luck," she said to herself, her voice taking on a strange, echoing quality. "Surprise surprise, the cheese ain't magic after all. Jus' been lef' out in the sun too long."

Then again, she supposed there was another possibility. The pipsqueak had clearly intended this dairy-style wakeup call for one particular person: the girl she called her "senpai." Neither of the roommates had considered there might be negative consequences for "sharing."

Then again again, perhaps the cheese was neither magic nor spoiled, but simply laced with a few tiny spoonfuls of LSD. She liked that option the best.

Unfortunately, the likelihood that this was all just some bad drug trip grew slimmer and slimmer as time dragged on. Because no matter how high she got, she was pretty sure there was no way her brain was creative enough to conjure images like the ones she was seeing.

She saw visions of herself, numerous times, in some strange outfit that could only be cosplay. Which was weird, because she was fairly certain she'd never cosplayed a day in her life. And she could count the number of times she'd ever worn a dress – much less one as frilly and flashy as that – on one hand.

More concerning was the fact that she was seeing this strange, costumed version of herself from the third person. Oh, and the fact that other-Kyoko kept trying to kill her.

The visions were passing by as brief flashes, like someone impatiently skipping their way through a photo slideshow. But Kyoko caught a glimpse of a mirror in one of them, and it was enough to explain everything.

She was seeing these events from Sayaka's perspective. Her initial guess had been right after all; these memories were meant for Sayaka alone, and she'd inadvertently gone and dumped them into her head instead.

Of course, that made the aforementioned "attempted murder" deal even more disturbing. Why was her cosplay-self using a spear (that could separate into some…chain-whip-thing? If nothing else, she clearly had badass taste in weaponry) to try and reduce Sayaka to paste?

Perhaps because she'd only eaten half the cheese, the memories came through in bits and pieces, without much connective tissue or context between them. So it was about as hard to follow as a Satoshi Kon movie.

She saw herself getting ready to fight Sayaka atop some overpass. Showing Sayaka the burned-out ruins of the old Sakura Church. Talking to Sayaka about…something, at a train station in the dead of night. It was hard to tell, since the visions didn't include sound.

Until suddenly…one did.

This one was clearer than the others. Distinct. She and Sayaka were standing back-to-back atop some kind of small platform, surrounded by a surrealistic array of color and noise so dizzying that it almost made her reconsider the "drug trip" hypothesis.

Looking down, she saw that Sayaka too was decked-out in weird cosplay. Though hers was so "Sayaka" that it hurt; she even had a freaking cape.

It was hard to concentrate on such things, however – or even the fact that there seemed to be some massive battle taking place on the horizon – when their fingers laced together, and Sayaka's voice began to whisper tenderly.

"I thought I didn't have any regrets when I died. But the truth is, when I found out about this assignment, I jumped at the chance to come back. Cuz in the end, I did have one regret…you. I missed you."

After that, the rest of the visions started looping back around again, like a video set on autoplay. But Kyoko barely paid them any attention, too floored by what she'd just seen.

None of this could be real, right? This couldn't be the actual truth, hiding beneath all the gaps in her memory.

Because if it was…

Then was there anything she believed that wasn't a lie?

[-]

Tsuruno Yui was having a very strange day.

It'd started off like so many others: waking up in the storeroom of Banbanzai after a hard night of cleaning and reorganizing, and dressing in her spare uniform so she could head straight to school. She couldn't risk her perfect attendance record, after all!

Only for her housemates to drive up along the curb and more or less abduct her off the street.

"Umm…since when do we have a car…?" had been her first question, among many possibilities.

"I'm borrowing it from Mifuyu," was Yachiyo's dismissive reply. "Apologies, but there's no time for school today. I'll explain everything once we pick up Sana-san and Felicia-chan."

But Tsuruno had been quite obstinate, refusing to accept the blemish on her unbroken streak unless they gave her a perfectly good reason. As a result, she'd heard an increasingly frustrated Yachiyo deliver the same speech three times over now.

And what a speech it was. Hoo boy.

If Tsuruno didn't know, from ample experience, that Iroha was too kind and Yachiyo too serious to do so such a thing, she would swear the other girls were playing a prank on her.

After all, to accept that they were all actually Magical Girls – like, honest-to-goodness Magical Girls, straight out of a shoujo manga! – who'd had their memories erased by a mysterious foe, and who were now Earth's only hope to avert the end of the world as they knew it that very night…

Well, it was pretty hard to swallow, to put it mildly.

But Yachiyo had put each of their doubts to rest, in turn, by transforming her clothes into a colorful blue costume in a flash of light, and summoning a halberd from thin air that could shoot out blasts of water.

"I dunno…" said Felicia in the present, having been the last to receive these grand revelations. They were all piled together now in the cramped confines of the car, which clearly had not been built to hold five people plus a medieval weapon. "I bet yer jus' usin' summa that…whatchamacallit. TGI."

Yachiyo rolled her eyes as she returned to her casual clothes with another flash.

"I believe you mean 'CGI,' Felicia-chan," she told the rambunctious girl. "And I have neither the ability, the budget, nor any actual inclination to project such a thing in the real world."

Then she turned to the girl in the passenger seat, and frowned. "This is why I wanted to wait until we were all together to explain things," she added, her tones half-accusatory. "We've already wasted enough time. As soon as the sun sets, Walpurgis Night begins in Japan."

"And that's…really bad, right?" asked Sana in a small voice. "Sorry, I still don't get all of this…"

Yachiyo let out a sigh as she turned on her blinker; their exit was coming up.

"There's a process called 'Awakening.' If we could put you three through it, you'd remember everything," she stated. "Unfortunately, none of us have magic conducive to such a thing. Well…technically you do, Felicia-chan. But it'd be impossible for you to use your memory-changing magic without first having your own memories restored."

The blonde girl tilted her head to the side. "Messin' with memories, huh?" she replied with a frown. "That don't really sound like me. Always figured if I got superpowers, it'd be like…Bam! Pow! Kapoom! Y'know…Decagon Ball style."

"Weeeeeeeell…" said Iroha, pressing the tips of her fingers together. "Technically, it's kinda like that? You have a big hammer you use to, uh…bash people over the head and make them forget things."

"Oh! Well, that's okay then," Felicia declared, grinning cheekily.

"Oooh, oooh! Me next!" yelled out Tsuruno, bouncing up and down on the soles of her feet and raising her hand like she was in class. "What kind of magic did I have? I bet I was the mightiest Magical Girl!"

"Since your Wish was for your family to win the lottery, your inherent magic is good luck. Though only if the outcome will benefit others in some way," Yachiyo explained. "In battle, you wield Chinese fans and fire magic as your main weapons. Most likely as a reflection of Banbanzai, as it was at the core of your Wish."

Tsuruno's mouth formed a perfectly round "O." So that was why they'd suddenly wound up with that eight hundred million yen lottery ticket! She'd always thought the timing was suspicious – especially since she couldn't remember ever buying the ticket.

People liked to think of her as an overenthusiastic, boisterous airhead (in fact, she was fairly certain Rena had once used those exact words, verbatim), but the truth was that she studied hard and got good grades. She knew her math, and she knew how probability worked.

Frankly, the revelation that it was a magical wish from a space alien made way more sense than chalking up her good fortune to random chance.

"And your magic, Sana-san, lets you turn invisible," Iroha said to the third girl, who hadn't asked. Still, the pink-haired girl clearly didn't want her to feel left out. "Well, I guess to be more precise…it's supposed to make you always invisible, to anyone except Magical Girls. Wait…how exactly does that work, Yachiyo-san? How did she manage to make people see Sana-san again, when it was part of her Wish?"

"Still trying to piece that together. Not too many Magical Girls ask for a passive ability that's effective even when not transformed, like Sana-san did," answered the older girl. "My best guess is she cheated a bit. Sana-san's magic never actually made her disappear; rather, it tampers with normal humans' perception while they were near her, causing them to ignore anything she says or does."

Yachiyo paused for a moment to aggressively pass another vehicle, resulting in a honked horn and several screamed obscenities. Yachiyo deftly ignored them – just as she was ignoring the fact that they were driving at nearly double the posted speed limit.

"In any event, we already know she was a nigh-infinite number of Familiars. Ones that even Magical Girls can't detect, if she so wills it," she went on, as if nothing had happened. "Perhaps one lies in wait near Sana-san at all times, and 'prods' the people around them to counteract the effects of her magic."

Alarm bells immediately began ringing in Tsuruno's head. "Wait, wait, hold up!" she exclaimed. "Does that mean this…Familiar-thingy could be in the car with us right now?"

"I'd be very surprised if it isn't. That's why I'm being so circumspect with what details I can share right now," said Yachiyo. "Never speak the Devil's name, for then she shall appear. But also never say anything you wouldn't want the Devil to overhear."

"This is all makin' my head spin…" groaned Felicia, as her housemates started searching frantically all over the car, as if they might find a Familiar between the cushions. "Can ya jus' tell me where we're goin' next?"

"To the place where Walpurgis Night will begin…and therefore, the one place it can still be stopped," the blue-haired girl responded coolly. "Mitakihara City."

[-]

"Okay, as soon as we bust down the door, you head straight for the bedroom. Then you can do that cool 'barrier around the Soul Gem' trick to take Kagari out in one shot," murmured Sasa as they crept down the apartment building's fourth floor hallway. "Just make sure not to mix the twinsies up. Purple one we need, green one dies."

"Basta! Don't forget, you do not give Alina orders!" said the other girl with a scowl. "What is your problema with the other one, anyway?"

"She's who I'm pretending to be, dipshit. Not sure how Suzune's fragile little mind would react if she saw the real Matsuri Hinata side-by-side with the fake," Sasa told her tersely. "Best not to risk finding out. That's why I made her wait behind."

The brunette transformed into her jester-like Magical Girl form and cracked her tiny knuckles, before adding, "With any luck, we kill two birds with one stone today. Once one Hinata sister is dead, we can take the other to some secluded location and brainwash her at our leisure. Not like we're on a time limit or anything."

Both of them paused mid-step, as they were each bombarded with another psychic message from their "benefactor."

As soon as it finished, Sasa's lips twisted into a furious scowl.

"Wait, tonight?!" she growled out. "You couldn't have warned us any sooner?"

The voice spoke again, adding a bit of context. Just enough for Sasa to be suitably mollified.

"Well…okay. I guess that makes sense. But you owe us one for this!" she eventually said, before sighing and turning back to her partner. "C'mon, Luigi. Looks like the timetable for our grand plan's been moved up quite a bit. No time to dawdle."

It was a mark of how much both of them respected (and/or feared) the disembodied voice, that Alina didn't complain about being ordered around again.

They came upon their quarry soon enough: an unassuming door with faded paint reading "407." Completely indistinguishable from the mediocre units on either side.

Sasa took a deep breath, reinforced her foot with a surge of mana, and kicked the door off its hinges.

Like the door at its entrance, it was a remarkably ordinary Japanese apartment. Two bedrooms, a living room with attached kitchenette, and a single small bathroom. All of it cramped, overcluttered, and in dire need of repairs and maintenance.

Compared with where I used to live, it's still a palace, Sasa couldn't help but note ruefully.

But she pushed those thoughts aside as quickly as they bubbled up. She'd made a conscious decision to keep past shit in the past. Once she took her rightful place as this world's queen, who cared how she got there?

And in any event, right now she needed all of her wits about her.

A man who must've been Takashi Hinata was passed out on the couch, snoring like an ox as his left hand gripped an empty bottle of sake. Either he typically worked nights, or he was just too drunk to go into work today. Regardless, it meant he wouldn't be interfering with their operations.

Still, even if he was sleeping too soundly to have noticed their forcible entrance, they were unlikely to be as lucky with the twins. And indeed, one of the bedroom doors was already creaking open.

Sasa held her staff at the ready, just in case. Alina likewise conjured green cubes in both palms.

But the person who exited the room was neither Matsuri nor Kagari Hinata. It was a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, with black hair in a side-plait over her left shoulder.

"Matsuri-chan, is that you? I hope you didn't fall ag…" she started to say, but her voice trailed off as she saw the two invaders. Her violet eyes hardened like steel.

"Kagari-chan, stay behind me," she called back into the room, just as another girl emerged from the darkness. Kagari Hinata clung tightly and fearfully to her protector, looking not at all like the sadistic revenge-seeker she had become in another timeline. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

Sasa quickly scanned the unexpected woman, hoping her benefactor would be able to identify her. She got her answer a few seconds later, and her heart sank like a stone.

Tsubaki Mikoto…another Magical Girl. One who'd been caretaker to both the Hinata twins and Suzune in turn, during that other timeline. Fated to turn into the Witch Carmen and leave her young charges to fend for themselves.

But of course, in this world without Witches, that final step had never occurred. Tsubaki was alive and well, and clearly not willing to let them take any girl under her care without a fight.

Of course, since she wasn't yet Awakened to her prodigious pyrokinetic powers, it wasn't like Sasa was especially worried about such a fight. Right now, Tsubaki was like any other amnesiac Magical Girl – a minor threat at worst, a potential thrall at best.

Yet her simple presence called all of Sasa's assumptions into question. What had Umika said about the apartment's occupants? One male, two females. And Tsubaki had initially assumed they were…

"Oh, fuck," she hissed under her breath. "She's already with Suzune, isn't she?"

[-]

Madoka and Homura sat together on the riverbank for two full minutes before saying anything else.

The sudden disappearance of that boy and his duck was just one more enigma in what seemed like an endless parade of them, and it had the pink-haired girl's mind reeling. This was just what she'd wanted since that morning – an opportunity to speak to Homura alone, just the two of them – and yet there was a general atmosphere to the whole thing that just felt…off.

Still, she remembered one thing her father had always taught her: "Don't let perfect be the enemy of good." It was a lesson he'd needed to hone to a fine point, living with his perfectionist of a wife for so many years.

If she kept waiting for some golden, perfect opportunity to tell Homura what she was feeling, she never would. They'd just remain in this nebulous, awkward state forever, and their bond would never have a chance at healing.

Of course, it was entirely possible that ship had already sailed. Likely, even. But she owed it to the other girl to try.

She cared too much about her not to.

Just as she was about to open her mouth and break the silence, however, Homura beat her to the punch by asking, "Have you seen Sayaka Miki or Kyoko Sakura at all today?"

"Not since before lunch," said Madoka, furrowing her forehead in confusion. "Why, have you? Last time we talked, they were about to do something that seemed pretty dangerous…"

Madoka didn't want to think of it that way, but she couldn't help but interpret Homura's deep exhalation as a sigh of relief.

Still, she at least looked sincere when she turned her head to the side and replied, "I was just curious. But I'll certainly keep an eye out for them. In fact, if it's as serious as you say…perhaps it's best I go out and search for them right now."

And with that, she was already standing up to leave. Seized by a swell of alarm, Madoka instinctively grabbed for the other girl's hand, holding her in place.

She had to say it now. Who knew when she'd gather enough courage to do it again?

"Please don't go, Homura-chan," she all but begged. "I…I need to talk to you. If things keep going on like this much longer, I think I'm going to shatter in two."

Her words were dumb, and pathetic, and melodramatic. But they seemed to do the trick. Homura's arm slackened in her grip, and she sat back down again.

"Can we…do this later?" the other girl whispered, her tone shifting like day to night. Suddenly she sounded just as raw and vulnerable as Madoka herself did. "I just…I need some time, Madoka. A little bit more. I know this isn't fair to you, but…"

Yet to her surprise – and even more so, to Madoka's own – the shy girl held up a hand, cutting her off.

"I'm the one who messed this all up. So I'm the one who needs to make it right," she said. "So please, Homura-chan. Just listen to me."

She took a deep breath, trying to steady the thundering beat of her heart. This was it. The moment she would either salvage her friendship with the girl who was more precious to her than any other…

Or go down trying.

"Growing up, I didn't have very many friends. You know that. It was pretty much always just Sayaka-chan and Kyosuke-kun, and then Hitomi-chan a bit later," she began to explain. "Then we had to move to America for three years because of mama's job. And it was great there, don't get me wrong! But…But I wasn't…"

"You still kept in touch with them, didn't you?" asked Homura, her face contorted into a rather strange expression. It looked almost like guilt, but why in the world would Homura feel guilty about her time in the U.S.?

"Of course. But calls, or video chats…they're just not the same, you know?" Madoka told her. "Maybe it would've been okay if I'd made some American friends too, but I just…couldn't. I tried, over and over, but it never seemed to work out. Maybe the language barrier was part of it – you've seen how bad my English is."

"You're always too hard on yourself, Madoka," said the black-haired girl, scooting a bit closer. It didn't help Madoka's frazzled nerves at all, but she forced herself to stay put.

"I…I know that. But I can't help it. That's just the way I am, Homura-chan," she responded, after a few moments. "My point is, all my friends are precious to me. I have so few, that I refuse to give up on any of them. Not without a fight."

She swallowed a big lump in her throat, then added, "And that includes you, Homura-chan."

"Madoka, you could never lose me. Never," Homura said firmly. "The last few days haven't been your fault. I just…I've had a lot on my mind. And I'm not good at talking about this stuff."

"That makes two of us," murmured Madoka with a sigh. "But…I'm done letting myself use that as an excuse. So I'll come right out and say what I should've said three days ago."

And with that, she bent her body into the closest approximation of a bow she could manage while sitting down, and declared, "I'm sorry, Homura-chan."

There was a brief moment, in the wake of these words, where time seemed to stand still. Then Homura's mouth fell open, utterly slack-jawed.

"You're sorry?" she repeated. "For what?"

Madoka knew she had to choose the next words carefully. Much as it made her want to bury herself in the ground out of embarrassment, she had to get this across right. With no more room for waffling or ambiguity.

She took another deep, shuddering breath, and began to speak.

"For…For forcing this on you," she said. "I could've acted like an adult, and just told you how I felt. Waited for when we were both calm and ready, and brought it up when there wasn't any pressure. Instead…"

The pink-haired girl bit her lip. "Instead I chose the worst possible time. I sprang this all on you after we both almost died, and put you on the spot," she continued, after a few seconds. "And then I did…you know. That. Without any warning. Without asking for your consent. There's no excuse for that, no matter how I was feeling."

"Madoka, stop," Homura pleaded, through tightly gritted teeth. Almost as if these words were causing her physical pain. "You've done nothing wrong."

"I've done everything wrong, Homura-chan!" Madoka exclaimed, surprising herself at her own vehemence. "And we both need to quit pretending otherwise. I messed up bad, and I hurt you. I can see it in your eyes, right now! And that…that's the last thing I ever wanted to happen."

Her hands clasped around one of Homura's, and though her instincts screamed at her to turn away and burn with shame, she forced herself to hold her ground.

"That's why I'm apologizing to you. Right here, right now," she said. "I know it isn't enough to make up for what I did. And you don't have to accept it if you don't want to. But if you're willing…that's what I want. A fresh start, to do this right."

"Madoka…" Homura choked out breathlessly – as if anything else was beyond her.

Meanwhile, the pink-haired girl was bending her head toward the other girl, staring determinedly at the ground. No matter how much uncharacteristic boldness she'd managed to summon up, this was the only way she'd be able to say these next few words.

"The truth is, Homura-chan, I…like you. I think I have for a while now, even if I didn't fully realize it until this week," she told the other girl. "The way all those cheesy movies or Valentine's commercials say I'm supposed to like a boy someday. The way Sayaka-chan talked about Kyosuke-kun, all those years when we were growing up. I never really understood what she was feeling before. But I do now."

Madoka's fists clenched at the folds of her skirt, forcing herself to continue.

"You're brilliant and talented and…gorgeous. There's no way to deny it," she said. "You're in a completely different league from someone like me, and that held me back from saying these things when I should've. But…I'm done with that. It's not fair to you for me to keep dancing around this stuff."

Another deep, halting breath, and then, "So…that's what this is. A…A confession. I know it's not a very good one, and I know you probably don't feel the same way. It's okay. You can react however you like. At least…At least this way, I can say I tried."

When Madoka's voice finally fell silent, it was like the midday air around them suddenly grew ten degrees colder. The pink-haired girl watched her friend as the weight of the seconds dragged on, heavier and heavier, simultaneously dreading and needing to see her reaction.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity had passed, Homura closed her eyes and turned her head askance.

And spoke her response to the outpouring of Madoka's heart.

"You're right. I don't feel the same way."

[-]

While Kyoko tumbled through a messed-up jumble of her roommate's memories, the roommate in question – as the intended recipient of the magical cheese – was having a far different experience.

Kyoko had received the memories out-of-order, and without any context. Sayaka's brain, by contrast, immediately and instinctively grasped the bigger picture of it all, even if she was missing some of the pieces.

Many of the details were lost to her, as they rattled around in her roommate's head instead. But her mind quickly settled around a few basic truths that, until this moment, had been sealed away.

Truth #1: She was a Magical Girl. She'd made a Contract with Kyubey, a manipulative alien intelligence, to heal Kyosuke's hand in exchange for gaining magical powers.

Truth #2: Kyoko, Mami, Madoka, and Akemi had all gone through the same. But the latter two were…different, somehow. The exact details eluded her, but something in the back of her mind was insistent they were on an entirely different level from the rest.

Truth #3: Whatever else Akemi was, one thing was clear: she was their enemy. Sayaka's reflexive antipathy toward the cold girl hadn't been without basis. To some degree or another, she was responsible for these blocks on their memories in the first place.

Truth #4: She hadn't always been a part of this world. Until very recently, she'd been…somewhere else. That was where she'd met Nagisa. Where they'd trained together, as Messengers.

But Messengers of what? That was where the certainty of truth ran into a brick wall. Kyoko must've been given that piece – but without the blessing of context, there was no way she'd be able to make sense of it.

Still…it was a start. Sayaka reached down into the well of magic she now knew to be inside her heart, and the ring around her middle finger began to glow. She'd never given that ring very much thought until now, simply putting it on every morning as if on autopilot.

With a flash, she was now standing in the middle of her bedroom, wearing something straight out of Pretty Cure. Well, perhaps a tad more…mature than PreCure. Her belly was uncovered, and the ring had become a teardrop-shaped jewel over her navel.

She waved her hand through the air, mimicking herself in one of the memories. A razor-sharp cutlass appeared between her fingers, as if from nowhere.

Sayaka's shocked eyes drifted back to her bed, where Kyoko was still lying back, her eyes dull and unfocused. Gingerly, she tried tapping the girl on the shoulder.

Slowly, like she was waking up from a very long sleep, the redhead's eyelids blinked open and closed several times, dreamy mist still pervading them. Then, they fell upon her transformed roommate.

"Okay…" she said breathily. "So I didn't imagine all that crap."

"Kyoko, how are you feeling?" asked Sayaka, urgency in her voice. She moved to reach out with her other hand, belatedly realized she was still carrying the sword, and let it clatter to the ground. "What'd you see?"

The other girl winced, clutching one hand to her temple.

"Way too much. An' not enough at the same time," Kyoko told her. "Guess we shouldn'ta shared the cheese, huh? Damn that's a weird sentence…"

Her tones were airy and humorful, but it was immediately evident she was in a bad state. Her face was matted with sweat, and despite the impromptu nap, she looked as exhausted as if she'd just finished running a marathon.

"That was my bad. I'm sorry I got you mixed up in it," replied Sayaka. "Good news is, uh…we both apparently have super-secret magic powers? That's something."

"Wait, me too? Guess that explains why I saw myself goin' full Sailor Moon an' shit," Kyoko remarked, now eyeing the other girl's outfit closely. "How'd ya do that, anyway?"

"Not really sure I know how to describe it. I just…knew, somehow," muttered Sayaka. "A lot of what I got from the cheese – you're right, that's really hard to say with a straight face – was like that. More feelings and emotions than concrete memories. Without the pieces that wound up with you, it's like…I dunno. Trying to put together a car with only half the parts. You don't get half a car, you get a mess of gears and oil that can't go anywhere."

"So fer either o' us ta do anythin' useful, we gotta put our heads together. Like, literally," said Kyoko in summation. "But firs' we need ta figure out how. Yer the girl dressed like a blue-haired Superman with bigger boobs – got any suggestions?"

Sayaka couldn't help but flush. Did her roommate really have to find the dirtiest way to phrase everything?

Still, she wracked her newly jolted brain, trying to extract some nugget of information that might help. Was there anyone else, in this magical world she only partially recalled, who might be able to assist them?

She remembered, or half-remembered, a lot of Magical Girls; far more than it seemed logical a single middle school girl should've known from her own social circle. She had an incomplete, but intense, sense memory of writing down their names in a sort of a record book – as if she was some kind of mystical secretary taking minutes.

Those names flew through her head so fast that it almost spun, even if she couldn't attach a face or a personality to most of them.

Yuma Chitose…Kaoru Maki…Arisa Narumi…Ria Ami…Meiyui Chun…Ryo Midori…Mito Aino…Hazuki Yusa…Ashley Taylor…Juri Oba…Chika Aoba…

Suddenly, the wheels of her brain ground to a halt, as one particular name burned vividly across it. This one, she did remember a few things about.

"Come on," she finally declared to her roommate. "I want to see how fast I can go when I'm like this. So…road trip time."

Kyoko raised an eyebrow. "Where exactly are we goin'?" she asked.

"To find a girl who specializes in connecting Magical Girls together," said Sayaka. "Time for us to see Kamihama's friendly neighborhood Coordinator."

[-]

Sasa had needed to move quickly.

Saying "fuck it" – or its Italian equivalent – to the very notion of subtlety, Alina had encased the entire fourth floor of the apartment building in one of her barriers, and trapped Kagari Hinata and Tsubaki Mikoto in a smaller one for later processing.

The latter hadn't been part of their original plans, but since they would be building an army soon, she figured they could do worse than a girl with fire magic and a huge rack.

Meanwhile, Sasa was racing back down to ground level, blasting her way through concrete with beams of mana in an effort to reach her thralls as soon as possible. Her scheme to brainwash all the Magical Girls in the world would fall apart without the girl who did the brainwashing.

If push came to shove, she supposed Kagari would make for an acceptable substitute; Suzune's sword was merely copying the twin's memory manipulation magic, after all. But then they'd need to find not one but two more girls with that type of magic, if Alina was to be believed.

And according to their benefactor, they simply didn't have that kind of time. If they didn't pull off their plan within the next few hours, there'd be no point.

Sasa cursed herself for leaving this hole in her strategy in the first place. While her magic permitted her complete mental domination of anyone "stronger" than her, she tended to prefer more subtle means of control. Mindless zombies like Umika were all well and good, but for more complex schemes, having a thrall like Suzune who could act on her own was far more useful.

The silver-haired assassin was already so grateful and loyal to her "one and only friend" that simply assuming Matsuri Hinata's place in her heart was enough to turn her into a devoted little puppy dog. And if Sasa hadn't delivered her right up to the real deal's doorstep, it probably would've stayed that way.

As it was…

Well, she'd assess the situation first. And then do damage control. That was a lot easier to do when people obeyed your every command.

Forgoing the elevator or even the stairs, Sasa simply broke straight through one floor after the next, ignoring the shocked stares of the residents. They were simply ordinary humans; lower tiers on the food chain. They didn't matter.

And so, in no time at all, she was standing in the middle of the apartment lobby, coated head-to-toe in dust and debris. Her eyes darted around the room, scanning for the one thing she hoped not to see.

There was Umika Misaki – good. It didn't look like she'd moved an inch from the spot she'd been ordered to stay, even though she too was caked so thoroughly in white dust that she looked like a ghost.

Of course, since there was literally nothing left in her head save the compulsion to follow her next command, that probably shouldn't have come as too much of a surprise.

Unfortunately, the indigo-haired girl was also alone. Sasa stormed up to her, jabbing an accusatory finger right between her breasts.

"Where is Suzune?" she demanded.

"She left, my Queen," said Umika, still in that same, dull monotone. "With a girl I did not recognize. She had green hair and eyes."

Sasa didn't care that Umika was physically incapable of doing anything but obeying her orders. She struck her thrall furiously across the face, and once she crumpled to the ground, followed up with a few good kicks to the stomach.

"How long ago?!" she bellowed. "How long…?!"

"About…" Umika coughed out, between kicks. Despite Sasa's short stature, she was enhancing her kicks with mana, and could feel ribs cracking from the impact. "About…ten minutes…ago…"

"Then we must get moving velocemente," came an irritating voice from behind. Sasa turned to see Alina emerging from the stairwell, an unconscious Kagari and Tsubaki floating behind her. "But be careful with the goods, per favore? Alina still needs that one to cast the spell."

"Fine…" Sasa growled, backing away from Umika and allowing her to use her magic to repair the physical injuries. "But if those two are together now, Suzune will obey anything she tells her. Who knows where they could've gone, if they're traveling at Magical Girl speeds."

She and Alina both froze in place, as the now-familiar sensation of their benefactor's thoughts washed over them. Sasa couldn't help but notice they were coming to them a lot more frequently now.

"Mitakihara, huh?" she said, once the voice was done dolling out their latest semi-cryptic hint. For the first time in the last half-hour or so, she felt her typical, sadistic smirk returning. "Well now…so kind for all the pieces to gather in one place. Shall we go ahead and knock them all down?"

[-]

Homura hadn't planned on being here for more than a couple of minutes.

Until she could calm her nerves down enough to "readjust" Sayaka Miki's and Kyoko Sakura's memories once again, they remained the most critical threat to Madoka's happiness and safety. And monitoring whether the three of them met up was too sensitive a task to farm out to a Familiar.

So she'd tracked Madoka down – at this point, about as routine an endeavor as going to the grocery store – and, lacking the time or patience for finesse, asked her directly.

On that score, that illusionary "Fakir" had forced her hand. The last fictional property that Madoka needed to come to life in her presence was the one that ended with the Magical Girl protagonist reverting to her original form, and her prince departing in the arms of another.

But it should've been a simple operation. Get in, confirm Madoka hadn't met up with that irritating duo, and get out.

Instead…

She should've known this conversation was coming, one way or another. There was no way to keep avoiding it forever. Madoka wasn't like her, closed-off and insular. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and needed to get her feelings off her chest.

Except, of course, that those weren't really her feelings. In the same way that her subconscious had apparently brought her entire manga collection to life in some form or another, they'd clearly done something to the human inhabitants of this world.

Putting it bluntly, she'd gone and made the world…gayer. There was no non-silly way to describe it. As probably the most sexually repressed lesbian to live since the Victorian Era, all her idle fantasies about a world that would more readily accept the one and only love she'd ever known were blooming to life.

How else did one explain the sheer amount of kissing couples – each and every one of them same-sex – she'd witnessed on the way here? Even if they were living in more progressive times, this was still Japan. Such public displays of affection were barely acceptable for heterosexual couples.

Now that she knew where to look, she recognized some of them. Koito and Nanami. Adachi and Shimamura. Inuzuka and Sawatari. Morimoto and Agaya – now that was a deep cut, considering it was just a one-shot.

It felt strange to see them walking down the streets, even now that she'd realized what was going on. Invariably it made her feel awkward, like she was young Ebenezer Scrooge, summoning up Ali Baba and Robinson Crusoe and pretending they were his friends.

But others, she recognized as "real" people. The man who ran the cake shop, holding hands with the local mailman. A secretary from the same firm Junko Kaname worked at, getting down on one knee for the girl who ran the newsstand outside of it. A gym teacher at the affiliated elementary school, coming out as non-binary to their partner and receiving a kiss of loving acceptance in turn.

She hoped all these people she'd seen but never spoken to in her daily life had been queer all along, and her unconscious influence on this world had simply…helped to bring it to the forefront. Because the alternative was so disturbing that even the Devil was loath to contemplate it.

Regardless, it demonstrated that she could change people, without meaning to. Since they were only reacting to a generalized feeling she'd held since puberty first reared its ugly head – that she'd feel a lot more comfortable if the world had more people in it like her – it made sense that the effects would be so random and untargeted.

She was, in essence, Wishing; her new power making her simultaneously Contractor and Contractee. And she'd seen more than enough to know that open-ended Wishes never ended well.

But in the midst of it all, there was one singular Wish that was the very opposite of that. Incredibly specific, and entirely unattainable.

And it was the one that seemed to have come true most of all.

A lifetime ago, to hear the words that'd just come out of Madoka's mouth would've made this the greatest day of her life. How many times had she fantasized about this very moment?

Across a hundred time flows, it was the one thing she'd never done: confess her feelings. She was far too much of a coward. Even in her wildest dreams, the only way she could even imagine this coming to pass was if Madoka made the first move.

So she had imagined it. Over and over and over again. So many different scenarios, some fantastical and some perfectly mundane, but all ending in the same way.

Madoka, standing before her. Madoka, pouring out her heart and soul. Madoka, taking her in her arms and holding her close, until an eternity of pain and anguish and hatred melted away, leaving only peace.

This was…far too much like those dreams, to be in any way a coincidence. If this world, this universe-sprawling Labyrinth of her own design, could bring to life her childish fantasy of "Wouldn't it be cool to meet my favorite yuri ships in real life?"…

Well, it wasn't too much of a stretch to imagine it would do the same to the fantasy that basically never left the core of her mind.

And so, even though every last shard of Homura's shattered heart was screaming at her to accept Madoka's confession…

To embrace her, with her arms and with her lips, and never let go, even if the sun should go cold and the seas should boil…

She couldn't. Because this wasn't real.

It was strange, for the Devil to have standards. But this was the single, solitary line she would not cross. If her powers, unintentionally or not, had brainwashed the true Madoka into the version who existed only in her deepest fantasies – the one who loved her back, just as intensely, and wasn't afraid to show it…

Then the only path forward was to set things right.

"You are…very precious to me, Madoka. I hope you know that," she said, choosing her words with the utmost care. She was walking a tightrope here that might well be impossible. "But I simply don't have those kinds of feelings for you. And I doubt I ever will."

Every lie hurt just a bit more than the last. But this pain was her penance. She would endure it, as the price she had to pay for a hundred lifetimes of sin.

"I do want to thank you for telling me. With the air cleared between us, I hope that we can go back to being friends. Whenever you're ready for it," Homura went on, still not meeting Madoka's gaze. If they made eye contact, she wasn't sure she'd be able to maintain this façade. "And in time, I know you'll meet the right person. Someone way better for you than me."

At least that part wasn't a lie.

"But…I don't want anyone else. I want you," choked out Madoka, and even without looking Homura could tell instantly that she was crying. "I know that's so selfish, but…"

"It's not selfish to want someone to love you. Only to refuse to accept when they don't," Homura cut her off. After all, she spoke from ample experience. "I…I know this isn't what you wanted to hear. And I want you to take all the time you need to heal. In time, I think you'll realize what you feel isn't love at all. It'll fade, trust me."

"H…How do you know?" asked the pink-haired girl, her voice quivering. "And…should I even want it to?"

"I know…because I know you," said Homura, trying with all her might to keep her own voice steady. If she broke now, this would all be for nothing. "And any love that truly came from your heart wouldn't be wasted on someone like me. Someday, you'll find the person who's truly worth of you. I know it."

"There you go again, putting yourself down," Madoka mumbled. "Is that why I fell for you? Because we both do…the same thing…"

Homura didn't like how defeated the other girl sounded as she spoke those words. Still, she soldiered on. Even if this hurt both of them in the short term, in the long term Madoka would recover, better than ever. She'd find someone else, and the feelings Homura had accidentally, artificially implanted would fade into the background.

Then, only one of them would be left in pain. The one who deserved it.

"I expect you have a lot to think about. I should probably go," Homura forced herself to state. "But if you need anything, remember. I'm just a phone call or email away."

"I…" Madoka began, but whatever she'd been about to say, she seemed to think better of it. Instead she started again, in a voice that sounded like she was deliberately trying to keep it level. "Th…Thank you, Homura-chan. For letting me down gently. And…for being such a good friend."

"Always," whispered Homura, trusting herself to say no more. "I'll see you soon, Madoka."

And with that, the two girls both got up from the riverbank, and departed in opposite directions. At no time did their eyes ever meet.

Looking back, the Devil would have to say that that was her biggest regret. Because in that moment, if she'd been looking into the beautiful irises of the girl she loved, she would've caught it.

A brief distortion in their rosy depths.

Like a flicker of static on a television screen.

[-]

In another pocket of time and space, amidst a sea of spider lilies in full bloom, a lone Incubator stared into the cloudy sky. A sky that always seemed perpetually on the verge of, but never quite released, a storm to end all others.

The Incubator's eyes shimmered and swam with an impossible infinity of colors – more shades than even a galaxy-spanning hive intelligence could possibly comprehend.

And yet, in that moment, a hue never before seen passed over them. It could almost be called pink…but with the barest hint of gold.

A shade of gold that simply did not exist on the mortal plane.

The Incubator was so inundated by all the despair of the world above, that it shouldn't have been able even to speak. Not without prodding from the Devil it was enslaved to.

But nonetheless, it turned its head to the sky, and spoke with its unmoving mouth.

HOW…

CU…RI…OUS…

IS…THIS…A…

NEW…FLA…VOR…

OF…

DES…PAIR…?

There was brief moment of pause, as if the Incubator was listening for a response. Something only it could hear.

YES…

IT…SEEMS…

EV…E…RY…THING…

GOES…

AC…

CORD…

ING…

TO…

PLAN…

[-]

COUNTDOWN TO WALPURGIS NIGHT

Four Hours Remain