Les Fleurs du Mal – I'm Not Worth It
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.
[-]
"Akemi-san, would you please read aloud the passage that begins on page three?"
"Of course, Saotome-sensei," said Homura Akemi, her tone as polite and courteous as ever. She cleared her throat, and then began to recite in perfectly accented French.
Si le viol, le poison, le poignard, l'incendie,
N'ont pas encore brodé de leurs plaisants dessins
Le canevas banal de nos piteux destins,
C'est que notre âme, hélas! N'est pas assez hardie.
Her pronunciation was flawless, on a technical level. Yet as a reading of poetry, Homura's delivery left something to be desired – devoid as it was of any real passion or emotion. The cold detachment with which she regarded the world would make no exemption for the arts.
Those were…some of the thoughts that went through the mind of the transfer student seated three rows behind and two to the left, as she let Homura's voice wash over her.
"Oh, that was just excellent, Akemi-san! It's clear you studied for this," praised Kazuko Saotome, smiling with delight. "Or do you actually know French?"
"I am passable, at best," answered the raven-haired girl, her head bowed modestly. "In the orphanage I grew up in, we read regularly from French and Italian editions of the Bible."
"Fascinating! I know I'm supposed to be teaching you all English, but I couldn't resist throwing in a bit of Baudelaire. His work loses something in the translation, honestly," said their teacher. "Still, does anyone want to try the English version on the opposite page?"
Kazuko waited a few seconds for volunteers, and when none presented themselves, swiftly added, "How about you, Kaname-san?"
Madoka Kaname all but jumped out of her seat, startled out of her reverie. "W…What was that? I'm so sorry…" she sputtered, resulting in a few snickers from around the room.
Their English teacher hung her head and shook it once.
"Kaname-san, I'm disappointed. You used to pay such good attention in class, but this is the fifth time in a week I've caught your mind wandering," she told the pink-haired girl. "The English passage at the top of page four, please."
She wasn't wrong, of course. What her teacher didn't know was that all of her recent distractions could be traced back to a single source…
And that said source was sitting just a few meters away.
"Umm…okay…" said Madoka, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "Sorry again, Saotome-sensei…"
If rape, poison, dagger and fire,
Have still not embroidered their pleasant designs
On the banal canvas of our pitiable destinies,
It's because our soul, alas, is not bold enough!
Her reading was the exact opposite of Homura's, in pretty much every respect. She tripped over the pronunciation of half the words, and had to outright skip "embroidered" (whatever that meant). And her ears went so red they seemed liable to fall off her head when she tried to read the word "rape" out loud.
Nevertheless, her teacher's reaction was to clap heartily and declare, "I really felt your emotion there, Kaname-san! You need to work on your pronunciation a bit more, but you truly have the soul of a poet."
The only emotions she'd been feeling as she read aloud were shame and embarrassment, but it seemed they were close enough.
"Now, who can tell me what they think Charles Baudelaire meant with this passage?" asked the English teacher. "Keeping in mind that the foreword is addressed Au Lecteur – that is, 'to the reader'?"
Predictably, the only hand that rose to answer this sort of question was that of Hitomi Shizuki.
"On its face, the entire foreword is a treatise on the dreadfulness of boredom. Baudelaire-sama considered it the worst possible misery of mankind," she said. "Later in the same passage, he uses the term ennui, which I believe I've seen in some of our English texts as well?"
"Ah, this is an excellent opportunity for a little lesson on loan words!" replied Kazuko. "In French, ennui literally just means 'boredom.' But you're quite correct, Shizuki-san, that it was borrowed for use in English writing, primarily in the poetic sense. In English, the word nearly always connotes a specific type of boredom – a sort of listlessness, or melancholy. A feeling that one is lacking in purpose or drive."
Ennui…that sounded like a good word to describe how Madoka was feeling. How she'd been feeling for two full days now, ever since she…
"Man, this Baude-loser guy may be a tool, but he ain't wrong 'bout that part," drawled Kyoko Sakura, her distinctive voice carrying over the entire classroom. "Nothin' worse than boredom that seems like it's never gonna end."
"What? No, that makes no sense," chided another girl – for whenever Kyoko spoke up, it was only natural that Sayaka Miki would soon follow. "There're tons of things way worse than being bored! Injustice, pain, hatred…"
Rejection, Madoka's consciousness silently added.
"Saotome-sensei, can I ask a question?" said Kyosuke Kamijou, raising his hand to try and get the class back on track before Kyoko could deliver a retort. "The title of this volume…what does it mean?"
Kazuko nodded her acknowledgment of the question, though she took a few seconds to mull it over, lightly tapping her pointer across her palm as she did.
"Les Fleurs du Mal," she stated softly. "The literal translation is 'The Flowers of Evil.' But as we discussed before, hewing too closely to the literal translation when it comes to poetry can lose some meaning. Anyone care to take a guess, based on what we've read so far?"
There was a brief period of silence, as even Hitomi seemed a bit stumped by this one. Finally, Homura raised her hand.
"The title is an intentional contradiction. Flowers are precious, beautiful. Mal doesn't just mean 'evil,' but also suffering. Heartache. Despair," she explained, her cold, toneless voice cracking just a bit on the last word. "Baudelaire may have been trying to say that there is beauty in wicked things. That something as wonderful as a flower can be brought to bloom, even from within the deepest darkness."
"Very astute, Akemi-s…" Kazuko started to say, only to be cut off as Homura continued to speak.
"But Baudelaire was wrong," she went on, her tones increasing in both volume and tension. "Evil and beauty cannot mix. Once a person devotes themselves to sin, their every action is inherently compromised. Even when they try to produce something good, their intentions will corrupt the result. Every single time."
"I…appreciate your zeal, Akemi-san. And your way with words is impressive as ever," said their English teacher, shifting uncomfortably. "But while I know you grew up in a highly religious environment, I ask that you refrain from proselytizing in class."
"You misunderstand, Saotome-sensei," answered Homura, who was looking down at her laptop, not meeting her teacher's gaze. "This has nothing to do with God. There are none in this world, any longer."
Madoka felt a chill run up her spine – one she wasn't sure the source of.
"…Only Devils."
[-]
A few weeks ago, Madoka wouldn't have even needed to think about what to do after class let out.
All of them – herself, Homura, Sayaka, Kyoko, Hitomi, and Kyosuke – would get together for some kind of group activity. Perhaps grab some ice cream at the little shop around the corner, or go browsing at the mall.
And then, when the sun was beginning to set and those with stricter parents had curfews to meet, Madoka and Homura would invariably peel off, together.
They'd play video games. Listen to music. Watch old anime. Or simply sit beside one another, at the foot of Madoka's bed, and let the second hand of the clock tick lazily by.
In truth, of course, it made little logical sense to miss those days as much as she did. She'd only known Homura for about a month now, and she'd been doing all those same things with Sayaka and Hitomi since first grade.
Yet there was no question that she'd do just about anything to have them back.
Two days had passed since that disastrous afternoon, when the crazed girl with an eyepatch and claws had tried to murder her. When Sayaka had taken her blow, and survived only by the slimmest of miracles. When Homura had struck a deal with that other girl with the ability to manipulate people's memories, after beating her down utterly with what could only be described as superpowers.
And when, so overwhelmed by the relief of being alive and gratitude at being saved, she'd finally thrown caution to the wind and…
It made Madoka's face singe pink with humiliation even to think about it. She'd…kissed the other girl, right there on the lips. Without asking for her consent. Without even cleaning herself up, when she must've been a mess of dirt and sweat by the time their lips met.
Really and truly, she was a horrible person.
And she'd paid the deserved price for her selfishness. She'd seen it in Homura's eyes the moment they parted – the shock, the disgust. Homura had fled with tears in her eyes, unable to stomach being in her presence any longer, but too kind to say it.
She had thought she'd been prepared for that moment. Her rock-solid certainty that Homura could never like her that way had begun to erode under what seemed like steadily mounting evidence: the other girl letting her into her secrets, expressing her steadfast loyalty, outright telling Madoka that she found her attractive. And everyone from her father to Sayaka-chan to that therapist Doctor Tenjou had, in their own ways, encouraged her to go for it.
But now she knew that she should've trusted her first instinct. It was clearly true that Homura considered her a dear, cherished friend. The kind she'd had precious few of while growing up.
And it was equally true that she would never, ever see her as anything more than that.
The worst part, of course, was that by pushing too far, there was a good chance she'd lost everything she already had.
Across the past two days, Homura had scarcely spoken a single word to her, disappearing promptly after every class to who-knew-where. Madoka hadn't been able to find her during any of their lunches or break periods, despite searching for longer than she cared to admit.
And when she'd arrived at her aunts' place the evening of the "incident," she'd discovered a note taped to the front doors in Homura's small, neat handwriting:
Dear Inoue-sama and Kunizuka-sama,
My sincerest apologies for the abruptness of this notice.
I have just been informed that maintenance is needed on my apartment over the next few weeks. I will need to be present to let the contractors in each morning.
Therefore, I think it best that I return home early. I have already packed up my things and took them with me, so you do not need to inconvenience yourselves.
I truly appreciate all the kindness and hospitality you have shown me over these last few days.
Sincerely yours,
Akemi Homura
It was a masterfully crafted lie, and her aunts had bought it without question. But Madoka knew better.
Things would've simply been too awkward, sleeping and bathing next to the girl who had a stupid crush on her. Madoka couldn't really blame her for running.
"I'm so, so sorry, Homura-chan…" Madoka whispered to herself, as she watched the raven-haired girl slip away at the first chime of the bell. "I'm sorry I ruined everything. Like always."
[-]
Homura Akemi felt Madoka's eyes on her as she slipped out of the classroom, and for the fiftieth time in so many hours, she fought off the overwhelming urge to turn around and embrace her.
Instead, with a wave of her hand, she was back in the safety of her pocket dimension, her dark wings drooping over a bed of brilliantly blooming spider lilies. She was spending almost all of her time outside of class in this place, lately.
It was comforting, at least for a little while each day, not having to pretend.
Even for the girl who called herself a Devil, the past two days had been indescribable Hell. Staying away from Madoka, for the poor girl's own protection, was hard enough when her heart was at its strongest.
And the treacherous organ was far, far from that right now.
But right now, she didn't have a choice. If she didn't want to risk losing everything she'd managed to build, all the sacrifices she'd made as stepping stones to this new, golden path…
Then she needed to keep Madoka at a distance.
Not for the first time, she cursed the interlopers Oriko Mikuni and Sasa Yuki. Thanks to their foolhardy plans intersecting, Madoka had learned far too much about the true nature of this world. Not enough to Awaken her to her own sealed power, it seemed, but by all accounts it'd been a near miss.
This brave new world – formed with powers that not even she, their mistress, fully understood – was something halfway between a "true" new time flow and a universe-spanning Labyrinth. By definition, its foundations were incredibly precarious. It'd nearly collapsed less than an hour after she formed it, simply by Madoka having a vague feeling that she was neglecting some responsibility.
Keeping Madoka occupied with trivialities had bought her about a month, but at best she knew she was delaying the inevitable. This center could not hold. Not when there were so many factors spiraling out of her carefully crafted control…
And not when Madoka was, herself, asking so many questions.
Homura had thought about modifying the pink-haired girl's memories again, after Kirika Kure's attack. It would've been kinder, in a sense. Even though Sayaka Miki was completely fine now, her dormant magic instinctively healing what would've been a lethal wound for any ordinary human, the trauma of witnessing her best friend come so close to death was clearly weighing heavily on the poor girl.
She would do just about anything to make that look of pain on Madoka's face go away.
But using that power required her own mind to be in a (relatively) stable state. She was already sealing away so many of the erstwhile-Goddess' memories; messing with them more could cause permanent damage to Madoka's psyche, if she wasn't careful.
Her best path for now, then, was to remain distant until she could get her own affairs in order. If she was at Madoka's side, the other girl would surely be assailing her with a barrage of questions.
Questions she didn't trust herself to answer right now with the necessary, calculated lies.
And then…there was the elephant in the room. The singular, unexpected factor that'd caught her completely by surprise, and threatened to upend every single one of her meticulously plotted schemes.
The fact that Madoka had apparently fallen for her.
Even thinking the words, they sounded utterly ludicrous. Whatever masks they put on now, the fact remained that the two of them were a Goddess and Devil in human shells. Their true forms reflected their essential natures.
Madoka as an ethereal angel, the platonic ideal of beauty in robes of pure, flowing white.
And herself as an unholy demon, wicked and cruel, her wings and dress as dark as pitch.
The Devil could love God, but the reverse was simply not true. Was not that Lucifer's original sin? That he'd grown so full of Pride that he believed himself God's equal?
She was not Madoka's equal. She had never been. Not when she was a timid, worthless fool, so slavishly devoted to her one and only friend that she'd signed away a hundred different futures for the sake of saving her…
And not now, when she'd so viciously ripped her love away from the Heavens, and spat on the very essence of her sacrifice.
So the idea that this of all timelines, the one Homura had committed such evils simply to bring forth, was the one in which her deepest, most desperate of desires might come true? It was almost like an enormous, cosmic joke at her expense.
How many times had she dreamed of this, in those early, more innocent time flows? Madoka coming to her, so cute and sweet and pure, and confessing that she shared the very same love that Homura had ensconced within her own, unbeating heart for a hundred repeated months?
Madoka's lips on hers, their bodies pressed tightly together, as trembling hands searched and squeezed and sought purchase in each other's soft hair…that was how the fantasies began, at least.
She preferred not to dwell on how they often ended. Her cheeks were burning badly enough.
But if those imaginings had ever had even a ghost of a chance of being realized – an unlikely prospect at best – then they'd only grown further out of reach as Homura descended further and further into the depths of inhumanity.
Even if by some miracle, Madoka was attracted to girls, she deserved someone as warm and gentle as she; someone who at least remembered how to be human. Homura had crossed that line a long time ago, surrounding herself in a sheath of coldness and stoicism, until she scarcely knew how to be anything else. She could feign the demure, polite girl around teachers or Madoka's parents for short periods, but all the time? She knew better than anybody how easily that mask could slip.
And frankly, there were better options not very far away, all of them at least bi.
Sayaka Miki would treat her oldest and closest friend the way a knight would her lady. Mami Tomoe would be kind and nurturing, the perfect "big sis." Hitomi Shizuki, despite her protestations, would surely find the courage to stand up to her homophobic parents, if it was for Madoka's sake. Kyoko Sakura…
Okay…maybe not Kyoko. But she'd be a fun girlfriend, at least. Homura was at a loss to say the same.
The point was that this was a door she'd consciously closed off long ago. Madoka didn't love her. Madoka couldn't love her. Not in the same way Homura loved her, at least.
Eros. Romantic, sexual love.
At best, she would be party to the same generalized agape – unconditional, selfless love – with which Madoka regarded all living things. The kindest girl in all the world held not even a single spark of hatred in her heart, seeing everything from her family to her classmates to the birds in the sky as precious and worth protecting.
It was why she'd been able to make that sacrifice. That wonderfully, terribly selfless Wish. Did she not realize how few people would've been able to say those words, to mean them, without even blinking?
"I Wish I had the power to erase Witches before they're born! Every single Witch; from the past, present, and future! Everywhere!"
She'd known. The Incubator had explained everything about the Magical Girl system and she'd gone and joined it anyway. With a Wish that guaranteed she would never stop fighting. That she'd never get a single moment of respite, a moment to sit back and just be Madoka Kaname, until the end of time.
For the price of not leaving any other Magical Girl behind, she'd surrendered any chance that she might smile again. For the sake of alleviating their misery, she'd taken on all of that burden herself.
That level of self-sacrifice was…blinding, to a girl as selfish as she. And it left no room for anything else.
For was eros not, inherently, a selfish thing? It was not shared with anyone else. It was taking hold of the person you loved, possessing them. Keeping them away from the rest of the world.
She wanted Madoka to possess her, like that. But the reverse simply wasn't true. Whatever it might've looked like to an outside observer, she hadn't "captured" Madoka with any intention of keeping her.
Because Madoka could never truly be happy, together with her. Loving just one person, instead of so many.
And Madoka's happiness was the Devil's first, and only goal.
So what could possibly have changed, then? Surely there must've been some unique facet of this time flow that caused Madoka to suddenly, inexplicably decide that she…wanted her…
Somehow, despite no longer possessing any warmth in her blood, Homura felt a deep chill run up her spine.
It was the conclusion she'd been steadfastly avoiding for the past few days. Since her encounter with "Anthy" outside the therapist's office, if not earlier.
Homura didn't want to think about it, because even by the standards of a demon, the implications were…disturbing. Horrific beyond words.
Yet it was the only explanation that made any kind of sense.
The Devil stood straight up, her wings and dress melting once more into a facsimile of her school uniform. She tapped the dark orb that'd once been her Soul Gem with her finger, transforming it into an earring that enclosed itself around her left ear – once again completing the illusion that she was naught but an ordinary middle schooler.
It was time to rejoin the world she'd crafted.
She had some things she needed to investigate.
[-]
Madoka wasn't sure where she was walking, or how long she'd been doing so.
She'd heard Sayaka and Hitomi calling for her as she wandered away from Mitakihara Middle School, her footsteps uneven and plodding, as if in a daze. But she simply ignored them.
As much as she cared for her friends…she couldn't find herself wanting to be around them right now.
Logically, she knew she should – Sayaka had almost died two days ago, and she was such an awful person that she hadn't even bothered to ask her about it – but the events of that afternoon, and the subsequent silent treatment by Homura, had left her so despondent that even the idea of exchanging pleasantries had her sweating in anxiety.
Maybe she just didn't want them to see her looking so pathetic.
~BZZZT~
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Sayaka texting her, no doubt. Hitomi and Kyosuke would assume she needed space and respect that, and Kyoko probably wouldn't bother in the first place.
But Sayaka would respond to her best friend shutting her out by barreling through and not taking no for an answer. It was simply how she was.
~BZZZT~
Yep…there it was again. Madoka sighed – she'd either need to respond or turn her phone off at this rate. Otherwise…
~BZZZT~
~BZZZT~
~BZZZT~
Seeing no other choice, Madoka reached her hand into her pocket…
Only to find that her assumptions about Sayaka's approach were far more literal than expected.
"Owie…" moaned Madoka, nursing the part of her backside where she'd just landed on the sidewalk.
"Oh gosh, Madoka, I'm so so sorry!" said Sayaka quickly, taking hold of her best friend and helping her back to her feet. "I was trying to go for 'leaping glomp from a behind' but I definitely misjudged my speed…"
"Well, you got my attention, at least," Madoka responded, suppressing another groan as she switched to rubbing at the back of her neck. "And to be fair, I was shutting you out every other way."
"Stiiiiiiill…not my finest moment. Guessing you missed my warning texts," muttered Sayaka, with a nervous chuckle. "I'm just…I'm worried about you, okay? I've barely seen you the last couple days."
In lieu of answering directly, Madoka looked around herself, taking in her surroundings properly for the first time since she set out. Coincidentally, Sayaka had managed to catch up to her just as they passed a small park.
"I…I'll talk…" she told the other girl, after a little while. "But can we sit down first?"
She plopped herself down on a nearby park bench, Sayaka following right after. It was probably just as well – her legs were wobbling like they were made out of jelly.
To her credit, Sayaka didn't push any further after they sat down. She simply placed a comforting hand on her best friend's shoulder, and let her take it from there.
Madoka, for her part, hadn't the slightest idea where to start. So instead, she asked in a small voice, "How's your chest? I'm so sorry I haven't asked before now…"
But Sayaka waved off her concern with an exaggerated gesture.
"I'm doing fine. Weird part is, it didn't even leave a scar or anything," she said, patting at her modest breast. "I thought that crazy bitch got me good, but I guess I must've imagined it was worse than it was? Only possible explanation."
"Yeah…Yeah, that makes sense…" Madoka mumbled, looking askance.
I should tell her, she thought for the hundredth time. But how would Sayaka react to being told she was a real-life Sailor Guardian and didn't even know it? Surely, she'd have questions – and Madoka wouldn't have any answers.
Plus, she'd have to explain where she got that information. And Sayaka could get a bit…tunnel-visioned when it came to Homura Akemi.
Madoka was so deep in her own head that she almost missed that Sayaka was speaking again. Although she, too, now had her eyes averted.
"I'm sorry…I couldn't protect you," spoke the blue-haired girl, her voice going low and hollow. "I talk this big game about being this take-charge warrior, your knight in shining armor…but when it really counted, I was useless. That's why you've been avoiding me, right?"
The shorter girl's mouth fell wide open. Was that really what she'd made Sayaka think?
"No no no! Nothing like that!" she exclaimed hurriedly. "Sayaka-chan, what happened that day…it was way beyond what any of us could deal with. You shouldn't beat yourself up."
"But you could've died," said Sayaka, her voice almost pleading. "You could've died, and I did nothing to save you. The person who did…"
She let out a deep breath, then went on, "It was Akemi, right? I know we never talked about it after, but I could see it in your eyes. The way you were looking at her the next day. She saved you, when I couldn't."
Madoka had nothing to say in response. She just pulled her knees close to her chest, and nodded dully.
"But then…" Sayaka continued to whisper, her brow furrowing in puzzlement. "How come you two are acting so distant now? You were practically glued to the hip before all this went down. What'd I miss when I was out?"
There were a million potential answers to that question, and almost none of them were things she felt comfortable sharing right now.
But one of them, despite being far from the most important, bubbled up above all the others. And so, before she could stop herself, Madoka found herself choking out, "I…I kissed her…"
Sayaka's eyes went wide as saucers. "What…?" she said.
Madoka buried her face into her legs, trying and failing to hold back tears.
"I…kissed her…and she ran…" she sobbed, her breaths halting and ragged. "She doesn't want me, Sayaka-chan…she never will…"
To her surprise, Sayaka was already leaping to her feet. She palmed a fist, pure fire in her eyes.
"Ooooooh no she doesn't," the blue-haired girl growled ferociously. "She breaks my best friend's heart? I'll break her fucking legs."
"Sayaka-chan, please don't!" cried Madoka, seizing her friend by the wrist, though her hands were shaking so much that she lost her grip seconds later. "I'm not…I'm not worth it…"
"If she made you think that, then she's a thousand times more of a mega-bitch than I already thought," Sayaka said with a hiss. "Come on, Madoka. Let's go do something fun, okay? Forgot about Akemi. If she can't see how amazing you are, then she's the one who isn't worth your time."
But Madoka stayed rooted firmly to the bench, despite the other girl's attempts to gently but insistently pull her along.
"It…It's not that easy…" she breathed out, holding back another round of tears. "How hard was it for you, giving up on Kyosuke?"
It was a low blow, coming out before Madoka could even think about it. She immediately slapped her hands in front of her mouth, as if she might be able to force the words back in that way.
Still, she could see the hurt in her best friend's cool, azure eyes. "Guess you have been hanging out with Akemi a lot," she murmured. "Sounds just like something she'd say."
Sayaka turned around, letting out a deep sigh as she pulled out her phone to check the time. "Text me when you're ready to go back to your aunts' place," she added in even tones. "My mom's back in town, so I'll ask if she can give you a ride. Talk later, okay?"
Madoka wasn't sure whether she managed to return an "okay" out loud, or if it was just in her head. She just continued to sit there, face pressed tightly into her legs, trying to shut out the world around her.
She wasn't sure how it was possible, but she felt even worse than she did before.
[-]
Homura had a few stops to make after returning to the physical plane. But the first was to her apartment.
She spent relatively little time here these days. Back when she was still a Magical Girl, it'd been useful as a planning center, if nothing else. A private place to plot out, in meticulous detail, every possible variable: Kyubey's scheming; Sayaka Miki's slow-motion breakdown; Walpurgisnacht's looming path of devastation. And to try and thread the needle between all of them that would, somehow, keep Madoka safe.
But now the entire world bent to her will, as easily as liquid yielding to a falling object. She could go anywhere, do anything. In the face of all that, what use did she have for a concept like "home"?
Greeting her when she entered was a barrage of white, momentarily forcing her to shield her eyes. Surrounding her on all sides should have been holographic displays of all the Witch-research she'd done across a hundred time flows, catalogued with identifying runes, maps detailing frequent hunting paths, and statistics outlining relative threat levels.
Except that Witches no longer existed in this world. When she'd first come back here, after being reborn in the new timeline Madoka created with her Wish, these displays had all been inexplicably overwritten with similar data for the Wraiths instead.
Not as much, since the Wraiths on the whole were neither as powerful nor unpredictable as the average Witch. They simply hadn't required her planning skills nearly to the same degree.
But when you were a predator, it never hurt to know precisely where and when to stalk your prey.
Now, however, the Wraiths were just as much of an existential impossibility as the Witches they'd replaced. The distortions in the universe they represented were instead being funneled directly through the Incubators, harnessing their species' incredible energy conversion abilities for the good of all.
Which meant there was no longer any data at all for her holograms to "read." So they remained in their default state: a pure white void, stretching out endlessly in every direction.
Homura let out a sigh and waved her hand, deactivating the holographic overlay now that it no longer served any purpose. For the first time in what seemed an eternity, the entirely ordinary apartment that rested beneath was laid bare.
A wave of what might've been nostalgia swept across her, as she looked over what had once been her bedroom. Simple, sparse, utilitarian – she'd never exactly been one for creature comforts. But compared to how she lived now…
Without really thinking about it, she plopped down onto what'd once been her bed, disturbing a thick layer of dust. How long had it been since she slept here? Since she slept, period?
There was only one bright spot of color in the otherwise drab room: a small half-bookshelf, containing her modest manga collection. Her fingers ran carefully over the spines.
Revolutionary Girl Utena…Kill la Kill…Psycho-Pass…Your Lie in April…Nana…Little Witch Academia…Yuki Yuna is a Hero…K-On!...Riddle Story of Devil…Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid…
Homura suppressed a weary groan. There was no longer any room to deny the facts. How could she already be slipping, this badly?
A low whimpering sound from the other room cut into her thoughts. The raven-haired girl shook her head; it seemed she wouldn't be able to get away with delaying things further.
She crept carefully into what charitably could be called her living room, though in truth it was little more than couches and a table, arranged in the rough shape of a clock. A remnant of her early-timeline self, when she'd still had a sense of humor.
Another girl was sitting in the dark, not moving a muscle. She didn't seem to have moved an inch since Homura placed her there two nights ago.
"Time for dinner, okay?" she said, in a passable imitation of a gentle voice. In truth, it really didn't matter; the girl was barely capable of hearing her. "I know you don't need it, but it'll help keep your strength up. Here you go."
Since she didn't bother with food herself unless it was to keep up appearances, the only thing she had to offer was a couple of energy bars. They tasted foul, but were nutritious enough to make up for the deficiency of magic in the girl's system.
Her "patient" didn't react audibly, but opened her mouth enough for Homura to push the bar inside. The girl took a small, perfunctory bite, and began to chew slowly.
But she only made it about halfway through the first bar before stopping, her jaw coming to a standstill like a toy out of batteries. She let out another one of those keening, pitiable whimpers.
"I…can't hear it…" she choked out, her throat sounding like she'd spent days crawling through the desert. "Can't hear…the Voice of God…"
"You don't need it," Homura told her insistently. "You're a strong girl. So much stronger than me – you proved that over and over again."
"But I…" said the other girl in an agonized voice, kept from crying only by how dehydrated she was. Homura uncorked a water bottle and tried to press it to her mouth, but she turned away. "Need to…need to obey…obey obey obey obey obey obey…"
"Suzune Amano, you absolute fool," Homura murmured under her breath. Did she not realize how much damage she'd managed to leave in her wake?
No…it was simply that she didn't care. Sasa Yuki's level of control over her thralls was genuinely terrifying.
Eventually, the stress of repeating her mantra having drained her body of what little energy it had, the other girl collapsed forward, letting out a shuddering gasp. Homura caught her before she could hit the ground, and gently guided her back to a sitting position.
This was all so utterly unlike her, Homura silently reflected, as she took a napkin and cleaned the other girl's face of a bit of drool. Why was she expending so much time and effort, caring for a girl who'd given her no end of trouble across a myriad of time flows?
Yet she couldn't help feeling guilty. Sasa Yuki's rampage wouldn't have been possible if she'd been paying closer attention. When she'd stolen Madoka's position as architect of this world, she'd also stolen her responsibilities.
This was her mess, and she needed to fix it. One way or another.
"I'll be back soon, Mami Tomoe," she whispered to the girl who'd once been her mentor, literal lifetimes ago. "There must be a way to restore your mind. I just need to find it."
[-]
Halfway across the city, the other girl whose mind had been touched by Suzune Amano was in the process of rousing herself from a nap.
Because the would-be assassin hadn't been able to "finish" altering her memories, the majority of them were still intact. Sure, sometimes it took a little longer than normal to call upon some minor piece of information, like Sayaka's birthday or what a "watermelon" was.
But that was a natural part of growing older, right? Everything was fine. Fine, dammit!
No…the only time Kyoko Sakura wasn't able to fool herself was right now, while she was deep in slumber. While her mind's defenses were at their weakest, and she couldn't help her thoughts from drifting to…
"You're wretched! A vile temptress, poisoning my flock! How long have you been lying in wait…the Serpent, corrupting my Eden!"
Kyoko tossed and turned in her bed, her breathing desperate and ragged. Yet she couldn't wake up, the images continuing to assail her vulnerable psyche.
"I won't pretend to understand your black magic. But I know what you truly are! I can scarcely believe it, my own daughter…"
She whimpered and moaned, tears streaming down her agonized face.
"A filthy, sinful, disgusting…"
Her jaw clenched open and shut, rapidly forming a hundred silent apologies. Trying everything she could to keep her beloved papa from calling her a…
"Witch!"
"Kyoko! Kyoko, wake up!" a panicked voice exhorted her, shaking her roughly by the shoulders.
"I'm sorry! Sorry sorry sorry papa so sorry…!" she wailed, instinctively grasping onto the warm body holding onto her and refusing to let go. "I won't do it again, papa, I won't! Just…Just please don't…!"
Whatever else she'd been about to say fell away from her throat, as she slowly realized where she was.
And realized that the person holding her wasn't Joji Sakura.
Kyoko pushed the bewildered Sayaka away from her, more roughly than she'd intended, and curled up her body on the opposite side of the bed, burying her face in her pillow.
How much had her roommate seen? How much had she heard?
The blue-haired girl didn't give any indications one way or another. She simply kept her cerulean eyes locked on Kyoko's, and in slow, calming tones said, "It's okay, Kyoko. You're home. You're safe."
It took Kyoko several minutes to calm down enough to return her gaze properly, and to her credit, Sayaka remained mercifully silent throughout them. Finally, she let out a deep breath, dropped the pillow, and scooched closer to the other girl.
"Be honest with me," she murmured, leaning forward and placing a hand on Sayaka's shoulder to brace herself. "Was that the first time ya seen me…like that?"
Sayaka bit her lip. "It…It's not," she admitted, looking askance. "You've been having really bad nightmares the past couple nights. Talking in your sleep and everything. I know it's none of my business, so I try to tune it out, but…"
The two of them exchanged a meaningful glance. Ever since that strange day earlier than week, when they'd both somehow shared the delusion that her father was back from the dead, they'd reached a silent agreement not to talk about it.
But Sayaka couldn't help from wondering, and Kyoko couldn't exactly blame her. After the events of the past few days, it was impossible to deny that something fucked-up was going on.
"Geez, I just wish we had a better idea what went down while we were out," said Kyoko, in lieu of actually addressing the other girl's point. "My memories o' that day…they're all jumbled up as shit. Can't remember a goddamn thing after blondie showed up."
The redhead had no idea just how close to the truth she was. Since Suzune had been in the process of siphoning away all her old memories when she was interrupted, they're returned to her head in essentially random order.
It was as if the silver-haired Magical Girl had picked up a bowlful of chips, then let them fall through her fingers back into the bowl. Same pieces, but an entirely different arrangement.
New synapses had formed between old memories, while others were severed. The upshot of this was that, subconsciously, she was remembering events long-past as if they'd happened only a few minutes ago.
Of course, understanding none of this, Sayaka could do little to comfort her roommate, short of placing a soft hand across her cheek.
Seized by a sudden urge, Kyoko took that moment to close the distance between them, and kiss the blue-haired girl across the lips.
"K…Kyoko!" stammered Sayaka, her face lighting up like a tomato. "My mom's home now, remember?"
It took Kyoko longer than she cared to admit for the pieces to fall into place in her mind, but finally they did. Ryoko Miki, a flight attendant who was rarely home for more than two consecutive days, had managed to secure a full week off for the first time in years.
To Sayaka's parents, the two of them were still foster sisters, not…whatever they were now. The blue-haired girl intended to break the news to them eventually, but not yet.
Frankly, they needed to figure out their relationship a lot more before they went around telling everybody.
"Fine…I'll behave. But you're gonna owe me with interest," said Kyoko, winking exaggeratedly. Playing the tease helped put her more at ease, and push the lingering traces of the nightmare out of her mind. "So…we're goin' out ta eat tonight, right? Ta celebrate yer mom bein' back in Japan?"
"Yeah, we're visiting one of my favorites!" Sayaka exclaimed, and the other girl had to suppress the urge to lay another one on her; she just looked so goddamn cute when she was excited. "Yukihira's, it's a little neighborhood place, but the yakisoba is to die for! Can't believe you've never been."
"Well, s'not like I've been in Mitakihara long. Only came here in the firs' place 'cause I was…" Kyoko started to reply, before wincing.
The memory troubles they'd been investigating earlier in the week seemed to have grown steadily worse, and steadily more painful, in the days since the "incident." Not that she was willing to tell Sayaka this, but it was becoming harder and harder to hide it.
Instead, she changed the subject again. "So…what're ya doin' back so early, anyway?" she asked her roommate, glancing toward the clock. "Thought ya were runnin' after Kaname, told me not ta wait up."
Sayaka immediately looked so downcast that the redhead almost regretted bringing it up.
"We…had a fight. Or at least, we both said something we shouldn't have," she said, after a few moments of silence. "She's, uh…going through some stuff. And usually, I'm the person she comes to. It's always been like that between us. Some bullies picking on Madoka? I'd scare them away. She falls and skins her knee? I'd give her my shoulder and help her limp home."
Kyoko wasn't sure whether she should ask, but ended up doing so anyway.
"Gotta know – ya two're as tight as me in jeans. Ya like girls, she likes girls. An' she ain't exactly ugly," she remarked, trying to keep her voice and expression neutral. "How come ya never…?"
"With Madoka? Oh god, no!" was Sayaka's immediate reaction, though she looked suitably mollified as Kyoko slowly raised one brow. "I mean…don't take that the wrong way. I love Madoka. She's got a place in my heart no one else could. Just not…that way. I imagine Madoka in any kind of 'bedroom' situation and I just…I can't even picture it."
"Guess I see what ya mean. Sometimes pinky doesn't seem like a real girl at all. More like some kinda…I dunno, pretty doll or somethin'," responded the redhead. "Like some big company turned the word 'cute' inta a person. What kinda stuff could a chick like that be dealin' with, anyway?"
Sayaka bit her lip again, clearly hesitant to answer. "Erm…look. If I tell you, you have to promise to be cool about it. No teasing, none of that crap. I can take what you dish out, but Madoka's different," she said.
Kyoko was about to quip something like "I make no promises," but then she saw the serious look in her roommate's eyes and thought better of it. Instead, she nodded once.
Sayaka took a deep breath, and told her.
"Okay…" muttered Kyoko, once the blue-haired girl was finished explaining. "From the sound o' things, only thing ya did wrong was not actually breakin' Akemi's legs."
"You are absolutely as helpful as I expected you'd be," Sayaka sighed. "The thing I regret most is…I don't think she would've gone for it if I hadn't said what I said. Putting the idea in her head that Akemi might like her back…now where did I get that from…"
"Hey, I stan' by what I said!" Kyoko exclaimed in protest, holding up both hands defensively. "Miss Tall-Dark-an'-Shampoo-Commercial is thirsty as hell fer Kaname. She's the one jumpin' ta conclusions. Neither o' us were even there…how da we know why Akemi ran off?"
This was a surprisingly logical point, by Kyoko's standards, but it only caused Sayaka to frown further.
"So you think she's playing games?" she asked, through clenched teeth. "That'd be even worse than rejecting her outright. I don't care who she thinks she is, she doesn't get to toy with Madoka's heart."
"Well…only one way ta know fer sure, ain't it?" said Kyoko, resulting in another, much lengthier sigh from her roommate.
"I didn't want it to come to that. But we might not have a choice," Sayaka declared, her fists tightening. "First thing tomorrow morning, I'm finding Homura Akemi and giving her a piece of my mind."
"Only if I get a front row seat," Kyoko snickered, half-grinning.
[-]
After helping her convalescent "patient" with toileting – Magical Girl bodies were modified to run on magic alone, but if you introduced food into them then the "machinery" operated just the same – and forcing her into bed, Homura slipped out of the apartment without a single glance back.
She couldn't afford to waste a second longer with Mami Tomoe than she needed to. There was too much else to be done.
And ironically, stopping time was one of the few powers she didn't currently possess.
The Devil went over her mental task list. Next was the check-in with her Clara Dolls. While she was now so much more than the Nutcracker Witch, her Familiars had persisted, serving as extensions of her will and senses.
They were perfectly obedient, but also simple. They followed her orders to the letter – no more, and no less.
Unfortunately, that apparently included subconscious orders. More than once she had caught them nabbing items she'd thought idly of wanting, but would never bother to pick up herself.
Video games, hair accessories, hardcore girl-on-girl pornography…they'd run up to her and proudly dump them at her feet, like a dog playing fetch.
(She usually tossed their "presents," but kept the latter more than she cared to admit.)
That was why she made sure to keep them far away from Madoka. Why she accompanied the pink-haired girl everywhere she could – even on the trip to her aunts'. Outside her direct supervision, there was no telling how the Dolls might choose to interpret the feelings she kept locked up in her heart.
But now those feelings were spilling out freely, without reservation, the pressure valve utterly demolished by the bludgeon that was Madoka's kiss. She was now the biggest threat to Madoka's safety, not they.
So she'd chosen a different approach for the past two days. A handful of Clara Dolls watched Madoka at all times, but from a distance. These Familiars were given no agency, instead being puppeteered by Homura directly.
And when Homura was too preoccupied to assume direct control – as she had been the last few hours – then they were under strict, binding orders not to move an inch. They would only watch and record, as well as send up a psychic alert if Madoka was ever approached by another Magical Girl, Awakened or otherwise.
Which meant she was due for a debrief. Homura teleported herself atop a nearby radio building, where a small group of Dolls were awaiting her on the roof.
A garish flash of color caught her eye. She briefly glanced at the banner hanging from the radio tower, advertising an upcoming concert by the idol group ChamJam, and scowled. It was getting worse.
But those concerns would have to wait. She turned to the diminutive, construction-paper facsimiles of village children, all of them wearing identical, rictus grins. There were three of them present, and like their sisters, they all took on names that Homura's vicious inner voice applied to herself: Liar, Jealousy, and Cowardice.
Liar was heading the procession today, so it was to her that Homura demanded, "Tell me everything Madoka has done since she left school today."
T̵͓͙͆͋H̸̙̘̝́̓̀E̴̢͍̞̾̀͘G̵̠͎͚̒̐͐O̸͙͇͎̿͘D̴̪͚̾̾͊͜D̴͕̫̫́̐͠E̸̙̪͍͒̈́͘S̴̼͍͛͒̕S̴̠̫͝͝I̵̺̺͍̿͊̓S̵͇̠͊̕͠S̴͉̫̐͒͑͜Ö̴̡̡͍́͝H̴̦͍͖͌̓A̴̘̺̪̓̒̓P̴̝͇̻̾͛̚P̸͓͉̞͊͌̓Y̵̢̡͆͘̕Ț̵̫͒̕̕H̵̻̠̾͋̔E̴̺̝͋͌̈́͜G̸̻͍̼̓͐̕Ö̸̫̙́͠D̵̠̟͋̀̀͜D̵͚̟͖̔͛͛È̸̞͍͘͝S̴̘̦̠̽͊͒Ś̵̢̪͎̾͊D̴͍͖͊̓̽O̵̦͚͔̓͠E̸͍͖̺̐̓͒S̵̫̪͓̽͋͝N̴͇̞͐̔̕O̵̢͕͚͊͘̕T̸̞̫̈́̾́Ẃ̴̞̝͝E̸͎̞̼̐͘Ë̵͙̙̦́̽͋Ṕ̸̡̟͚̓͝
The Familiar chirruped cheerfully back at her. Her answer was in runes, of course, but as their Mother Witch, Homura had no trouble understanding them.
Liar's words required an extra step of translation, because true to her name, everything she said was the direct opposite of the truth. But Homura deciphered the gist – Madoka was still despondent over the events earlier that week, and Homura's inexplicable iciness hence.
How could she not be? It pained Homura terribly to think of Madoka hurting, even though she knew that maintaining this distance was necessary.
Still, she needed to be sure. "I felt you alerting me while I was with Mami Tomoe. Which Magical Girl was Madoka with?" she said.
Jealousy stepped forward.
T̵̠͎̟́̔̈́H̸̡̠̼͐͋̒E̴̪̺͋̀͜͝M̴͖͖̝͒̈́̚E̴̼͇͍͐͊R̴̢͔̽̾̓͜M̴̦͔̾͛̐A̴̺͎̙̓̀͝I̴͕̪̫̽͝D̵͖̙̝̈́͑A̵̡̘̒͊̓N̸̠̺͍̈́̾͠D̵̝͔̫͑̈́͘T̵̡͖̠͋͋H̸̼͍͓͌͊͒E̸͔̙̫̿̾͐G̵̺̼̒̕͠O̵͇̼̫̒͒̈́D̴͕̘̙͆͊͝D̵̡͖̫͐̾̕Ë̴̝̫́̽́͜S̴̺̙͇͑̓͝S̸̞̪̓͊͜͝T̸̺͉͍́͛̒H̴̡͍͉̒͊͘E̴̫̞͌̈́͘M̴̢͕͓͒̾̐E̸͇̫̺͑̚͝R̴̞̦͙̐̔̔M̴͉̼͍͆̒̕A̴̢͇̠͌̈́͘I̵̙͎͚͒͋͝D̸͔͙̠͋̈́͝A̵͍͓̙̽̈́͘N̸͖͕̻̓̔̔D̸̡͓̺̔̐T̸̝͙̿̓͜͝H̸̡̠̺͒͋̈́E̵̡͚̻̒̽̈́G̸̡̼͋͘̚͜O̸͉͕̾̓͜D̵͇̫͚͛͆͠D̴̡̻͕͆̓͑E̵͓̪̪͋̕͘S̴͕̺̓̿̓͜S̸̞̞͉̿͝
Homura let out a sigh of relief. As she suspected, it'd just been Sayaka Miki. The foolish girl's omnipresence in Madoka's life led to a lot of false alarms from the Familiars, but she much preferred to be over- rather than under-alerted.
She felt the tightness in her chest that often came from the close bond the best friends shared – it wasn't a coincidence Jealousy had been the one to answer this particular question – but she forced herself to dismiss it.
Right now, Madoka needed a friend. And Homura was failing miserably on that score. She couldn't begrudge the blue-haired girl for filling that void.
And so long as she remained ignorant of her true powers, the likelihood of her base stupidity endangering Madoka in this reality was fairly low.
"If you have nothing more to report, then return to your posts," she commanded her minions. "Continue to monitor for any Magical Girls near Madoka. If Oriko Mikuni and Sasa Yuki were able to make moves without my knowledge…there's no telling who else might be out there."
All three of them bowed their heads subserviently. Cowardice, who kept to the back and was always the last to speak, opened her wide mouth and chittered.
C̵͙̦͑͑̕Ä̴͕̟́̕N̸̪̦͌̈́̀N̵͕̫̘̔͘͠O̴̠̘͇͐̾͐T̴̢̫̞͋͋͝H̴̼͔̓͑̕͜I̴̝̠̻͐̐͝D̵̺̪̘̽̀͝E̵̟͚͓͊̒͠F̴̢͕̾͌̕R̵̝̙̠͌͘O̴͖͖̻͊͝͝M̵̺͕̼̈́̽͘Ḧ̴̢̢͖́̓̚E̸̡̘̫̐́͝R̵̞̘̘̈́͑C̸̝̻̟̔͆̐A̵͙͕̫͌͘͝N̸̙͎̔͊̾͜N̸̡̼̘̐̽O̴͎͓̘͑̾͝T̸͍̼͎͌͐͝Ḧ̸̼̘͓́́͠I̸̢͚͕͒͑̓D̸͕͇̀̈́E̴͇͚͔͑̿͛F̵̢̙̘̿̚̕O̵̺͚̼̔͑R̵̻͖͎͊̾͋Ë̸̫̝͉́̒̿V̴̠͎͇̒̾́E̸̙̠̞̿̾͝R̴̻͚̺̀̿̀
Homura glared daggers at the perpetually grinning Doll. "Nobody asked you," she spat.
And then she was gone.
[-]
Kyosuke's physical therapy sessions were long, and arduous, and dreadfully boring from an observer's perspective.
It said a lot about who Hitomi Shizuki was as a person that she made a point of attending every single one without complaint.
"You're doing great, Kamijou-kun! Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Yes, just like that!" said the nurse.
She clapped as he reached the end of the walkway, his gait a bit unsteady but his footing firm. Hitomi joined in, even more enthusiastically.
Even though he'd been discharged from the hospital last month, he still came back here twice a week – to the pair of handrails that'd once been the bane of his existence. He still needed his crutches to go anywhere in the "outside world," so this room provided him an opportunity to drop them and practice walking properly, while still having a safety net to fall back on.
Today, he'd managed to make his way up and down the walkway ten times over, while only stumbling once. A personal best.
"Alright, I think that'll do for today. I'm incredibly proud of your progress, Kamijou-kun!" the nurse told him serenely. "Let me just go get the doctor so he can finish your check-up."
"Thank you so much, Noceda-sama," he replied, waving goodbye to the dark-skinned, bespectacled woman. Nurse Noceda was newly assigned to his case, and while her non-Japanese name and stilted pronunciation marked her as a recent immigrant, he had taken quite a liking to her bedside manner.
Even if she did gab about her daughter and "that nice girl she met at summer camp" more than he would've preferred.
Once she was out of the room, Hitomi bounded over to her boyfriend – or at least as much as someone as prim and proper as her could be said to "bound."
"You were incredible, Kyosuke!" she exclaimed. "At this rate, you should be back to full mobility within a few weeks! I'm so happy for you."
"Yeah, I won't exactly miss this hospital. Nice as it is," he said, flushing a bit as his girlfriend pecked him on the cheek.
"There are a lot more random chairs and bookshelves in the rooms that one might expect. That surprised me at the start," mused the green-haired girl. "Still, I know better than to question it. With your hand and now your legs, they've truly been working miracles."
For the thousandth time, her remark had Kyosuke scrutinizing his left hand. Unlike his legs, which had been a long and grueling journey to restore back to their prime, his hand bore no marks whatsoever that the accident had even occurred. No scarring, no deformation in the skin or brittleness in his bones.
It'd mystified his doctors, and mystified him just as much. To simply wake up and have it completely healed, when modern medicine seemed to hold no answers…it defied explanation entirely.
In the face of other concerns, the mystery kept getting pushed to the back of his mind, but after a while it would always bubble back up. Every time he curled these fingers around his violin, and coaxed a sweet melody from its strings.
Perhaps it'd be best for his peace of mind to be like Hitomi – to chalk it up to a "miracle." But then, that presented another puzzle: why him?
There were thousands, millions of people out there, suffering injuries and disfigurements far worse than a messed-up hand. He'd never been a particularly spiritual person, but if there was some kind of deity out there dolling out divine gifts…
What had he ever done to deserve one?
His inner conflict must've shown on his face, because Hitomi frowned and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Are you alright, Kyosuke?" she asked. "Do you want me to get the nurse back here?"
"N…No. It's fine," he said. He didn't want to worry her, so he searched for a change in subject – something else that'd been weighing on his mind as of late. "Weird question, but have Sayaka, Madoka, and Akemi-san seemed…different to you, lately?"
"They certainly all seem preoccupied with something. Ever since I shared our mutual memory issues with Sayaka-chan, come to think of it," answered his girlfriend. "Ooooh…I do hope I didn't weird her out with those questions. Or offend her in some way."
That got her thinking about the one conversation she'd had with Sayaka since then – when she absolutely had offended the blue-haired girl. They'd seemed to have parted on good terms, but if her dear friend was still nursing a bit of a sore spot, Hitomi couldn't honestly blame her.
"I don't know about Madoka-chan and Akemi-san, but…" she found herself muttering. "I really made a mess of things last time Sayaka-chan and I conversed. She shared something with me, and I didn't react well."
"Is it something you can tell me?" asked Kyosuke, his eyes widening with even greater concern. Or just, uh…girl talk?"
Given everything that'd transpired between the trio – and especially with her boyfriend still, somehow, being thickheaded enough not to realize Sayaka had been in love with him – Hitomi was pretty sure she was the last person who should be breaking this news.
But it seemed unlikely that Sayaka-chan would be able to muster up the willpower to share it herself, and letting Sakura-san handle the revelation was a recipe for unmitigated disaster.
So Hitomi took a deep breath to steady herself, and then said, "Sayaka-chan and Sakura-san have entered into a…coupling together. One with a…with a romantic component…"
Simply getting out the words had been a struggle, but she managed it in the end. She looked her boyfriend in the eyes, trying to gauge his reaction.
What she didn't expect was for him to tilt his head to the side and respond, "Wait…they weren't already? I told you, I always had that feeling about Sayaka…"
Hitomi felt the sudden urge to rip out some of her perfectly coiffed hair. How could one boy be so perceptive and so oblivious, at the same time?
[-]
Homura spent the next hour taking care of a wide range of errands. Whoever first said that "idle hands are the Devil's tools" had clearly never tried being a Devil.
Between checking in with the rest of her Clara Dolls (Stubbornness was always a pain to deal with, and Laziness was functionally useless if not watched very closely), stockpiling heavy weaponry (because old habits died hard, and she couldn't guarantee that Madoka might not face a non-magical threat someday), and closely monitoring the peripheries of the world for any Wraith activity (her jury-rigged system with the Incubators should have made it impossible for them to form, but she wasn't taking any chances), to say that Homura had a full schedule would be a gross understatement.
And to top it all off…she couldn't believe she was saying this, but she still had quite a bit of homework to do. Math, history, and English all had assignments due tomorrow, and while the first two would be fairly breezy, she wasn't looking forward to "reading the first twenty poems of Les Fleurs du Mal and then, using citations from the text, explaining why it is that Charles Baudelaire never managed to hold down a stable relationship."
For one thing, she couldn't exactly put down the honest answer of: Because his mistress Jeanne Duval became a Magical Girl, and didn't actually die of syphilis, but instead turned into a Witch.
Schoolwork had been a simple matter during her scores of repeated timelines – the assignments never changed from one flow to the next, so it was just a matter of memorization. When you'd already answered a certain question ninety-plus times over, it tended to stick in your mind.
But Madoka had rebuilt this world from the ground up, rewriting its very foundation to make room for the Law of Cycles, and her reality was largely plastered over Madoka's as a base, with only a handful of deliberate alterations (such as swapping their roles as transfer student).
As a result, tons of "minor" details had gotten tossed in the air, and their coursework had turned out to be one of them. So for the first time in years, Homura was being forced to actually pay attention in class, lest she get left behind.
Like with Mami Tomoe, she wouldn't have been able to properly articulate why she cared about such a thing in the first place. Rationally speaking, it really didn't matter.
She wasn't going to do anything with her life that middle school was meant to prepare her for – high school, university, a career. She'd signed away any hope of a future eons ago, when she first made her Contract.
And besides…who'd ever heard of the Devil getting to grow up?
Deep down, she knew well that the new status quo she'd sacrificed everything to build couldn't possibly last. This world had an expiration date; she just didn't know when it was. Arguably, its downfall was already in motion.
But she wanted to keep things like this – Madoka happy, Madoka loved, Madoka safe – for as long as she possibly could. And that meant pretending that she was still nothing more than a quiet, taciturn, and utterly normal middle-schooler.
A few headaches as she puzzled out Kazuko Saotome's latest nonsense assignment were well worth that price.
Homura had fallen so deep in thought that it took her a few minutes to realize that something was prodding at the edge of her mind. But this wasn't the idle mewling of her Familiars, like a toddler tugging on their mother's skirt to get her attention.
Whoever this was, they were calling for her. By name.
And not just any name. They were calling a name that, in this particular version of reality, shouldn't even exist.
They were calling…
"Homulilly."
Homura paused for a moment, weighing her options. This was almost certainly a trap. Anyone who knew her Witch name – and who was bold enough to announce it out loud – could only be an enemy.
Yet the risks of ignoring the summons might well be greater than answering it. There were far too many unknown variables floating around right now, and this was her chance to potentially eliminate one of them.
Mentally, she reached back out to her Familiars, anticipating that she might not have another opportunity for a little while.
Is Madoka still safe? Are any Magical Girls near her location?
N̸͎̝͍͛̽͠O̵͉͚̿͛͊P̸͓̼͎̐͑͝U̵͎̼̼̿̚E̸̻̻̘͐̿͝L̵̟̝̫͛͐̔L̸͎̙͎̒̐A̸̘̙͎̓̓̚M̴̡̪̠͌͘̕A̵͔̝͌͒͌G̴̼̞̔͐̐͜I̵̫̻̙̽͌͆Ǹ̸̙͎͙͝Ö̵̻̺́̒͜N̸̙̞͖̿͐̚O̴̙͕͙͆̀̿N̸̢̪̽̈́̕͜O̴̦̦̫̐͛͠
Recognizing a potential loophole, she expanded her question.
Is there anyone close to Madoka with ill or hostile intent? Magical or otherwise?
Y̸̫͍̻͑͐Ë̸͎͚̙́͆̔S̸̡̙͌͑͋͜Y̸̫͕͓͊̈́͘E̸͍̺͎̽͝͠S̴̢̞̿͝M̴͍̺͙͌͋͠Ó̵̺̦͖̓̚T̵̟͎̦̀͆̈́H̸͙͙͚̐͊̐E̴̻̪̠̐̈́͋R̸̢̢̟̓͛̀Y̵͎̙̟͛͑̾E̵͙̪͓͆̀̚S̴̺͓̘̒̽́
That was Liar, which meant it really meant another "no." Homura let out a deep breath.
"I'll keep watching over you, Madoka," she whispered. "Just as soon as I take care of this."
Dark wings enveloped her body, and Homura vanished from the physical plane. Reappearing, a few moments later, in what turned out to be a very fancy teashop.
The shop was clearly closed, and yet there was another girl sitting right in the middle of it, sipping calmly from a porcelain cup. Homura recognized her immediately and readied an attack, but the other girl merely waved a dainty hand.
"Relax, Little Miss Devil," said Oriko Mikuni, taking another sip of her tea and gesturing to an empty seat. "I just want to talk."
[-]
If Madoka had been feeling despondent before, then there were no words for the emotions swirling through her head now.
First Homura, and now Sayaka-chan. Everyone who cared for her, everyone she cherished…she kept forcing them away. By saying the wrong thing. Doing the wrong thing.
God, she was stupid. So stupid.
She'd long since stopped paying attention to where she was going. After stumbling out of the park where she'd messed things up with Sayaka, she headed off in a completely random direction and just kept walking.
At least, before, she'd vaguely recognized her surroundings. If she'd managed to yank herself out of her funk before Sayaka showed up, she at least would've been able to find her way back.
But now she was in a part of Mitakihara City that she barely recognized. The very edge of town, perhaps. She couldn't even find a bus stop anywhere.
Her misery was still so overwhelming that panic hadn't found any room to settle in, though she knew it would soon. Right now, it was just a vague numbness in the back of her mind, dulled like every emotion that wasn't self-loathing. But the fact remained that she had no idea where she was.
And it was getting dark soon.
At least, she reflected idly, there was still the option Sayaka had floated before she left, despite their dust-up. She could still call her and get a ride from…
Nope, scratch that. Out of battery. Of course she was.
Madoka screwed her eyes shut, letting the sheer magnitude of her situation gradually wash over her. This was bad. Her mother would pitch a fit if she knew, but right now Junko Kaname was literally on the other side of the world.
Not that Madoka had anyone else to blame for this predicament. Just another fine piece of work by Madoka Kaname, the worst screw-up on the planet. The most useless, pathetic girl to have ever wasted space in history.
Now, throughout this parade of intrusive thoughts, Madoka never actually stopped trudging forward – which is how she very painfully collided with another person's skull.
"Ack!" she gasped as she fell over, this second impact with the pavement even more painful than the last. But all thoughts of her own soreness fled in an instant when she saw that the other party had also been knocked to the ground.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry!" she immediately exclaimed, stumbling back to her feet as quickly as possible so she could help them up as well. "This is all my fault!"
"No, no, I wasn't looking where I was going either!" the other person said, accepting her proffered hand graciously. "I was trying to figure out this stupid map app on my phone…I'm no good with this kinda stuff…"
Once they were both standing again, Madoka took a proper look at the poor girl she'd just bowled over. She looked about the same age as her, or maybe a little older, with a cute face and a uniform Madoka didn't recognize.
Her hair and eyes were also both a bright pink, which surprised her – she rarely met anyone else who shared that same combination.
"Sorry again…" Madoka murmured awkwardly. "And geez, where are my manners? I run you over, and don't even introduce myself! I'm Madoka Kaname."
"Like I said, it's no trouble! We're both okay, that's the important thing," spoke the girl who could almost be her mirror, if her hairstyle wasn't so different. "Anyway…"
She bowed her head courteously.
"My name is Iroha. Iroha Tamaki."