Les Fleurs du Mal – I Never Wanted You to See
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.
[-]
In the course of a hundred repeated timelines, Homura Akemi had never felt terror like this.
No matter how awful the fight against Walpurgisnacht had gotten, she'd always had the fallback of rewinding time to cling to. All of it was reversible; something for her future self to worry about. Property damage, deaths of friends…
Even the loss of the girl who mattered more to her than anything in the universe.
Everything was different now. She was powerless, in every sense of the word. Never mind escaping to the past – she could barely even stand.
She didn't know how Kriemhild Gretchen had managed to revert her to a human girl, though she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Madoka had done that with her Wishes, multiple times. Mostly for Sayaka Miki, though once or twice for Mami Tomoe and Kyoko Sakura as well.
Of course, there was also the one time she'd tried it for her. It was probably for the best that the Incubator of that timeline had never Contracted with her, making it one of the few Wishes it couldn't grant.
Still, Gretchen now held all the power of the Incubators, all the power of the Law of Cycles…and none of their limitations. If anyone could pull off such a feat, it was her.
And the consequences were readily apparent. Not only did the half-healed wounds in her leg and shoulder still sting fiercely, but she also felt a sharp pang in her chest – proof the heart condition she'd cured eons ago was now rearing its ugly head once more.
Even her eyesight was beginning to blur again. She cursed herself for not conjuring a spare pair of glasses when she had a chance.
But all the physical ailments paled in comparison to what her mind was going through.
No matter how much she tried to hold it at bay, she was helpless to withstand the constant barrage of negative thoughts her brain was throwing at her. Mostly because they were all true. And no more so than her psyche's loudest, most constant refrain.
All your fault. All your fault. ALL YOUR FAULT.
It wasn't as if she could argue. Everything from splintering the Law of Cycles to her final reversal of time had turned out to be just another cog in the Witch of Salvation's grand design.
This was her story, wasn't it? In each and every one of those failed time flows, her attempts to save Madoka had only made the girl's life worse.
After all, if she'd never interfered in the first place…well, Madoka would be dead. But so would Walpurgisnacht. She'd have gone to her eternal rest, satisfied that her and Mami's sacrifice had saved the lives of millions.
Instead, by dragging her through the morass of that repeated month over and over again, Homura had gradually cursed her with the karma of a god. Until she was powerful enough to make the Wish that signed over not only her life, but her afterlife as well.
And in trying to rectify that original mistake, it seemed she'd only succeeded in fucking things up even further. The loneliness of divine existence had been an awful fate, but at least the girl she loved had found peace in her sacrifice. Granting every other Magical Girl the chance she never received herself.
Now, it was…all for nothing. Her meddling had given Gretchen the perfect opening to swoop in, and steal the role the Goddess had carved out for herself.
The Law of Cycles would no longer be the mechanism by Magical Girls across time and space were saved. Instead, it would be their ruin.
And all thanks to a stupid, selfish, arrogant Devil, who didn't have the strength to say goodbye.
"I recognize that look in your eye," said Gretchen, the mask of sweetness pulled over her face once more. "You've accepted your Despair. Good. Does that mean you'll agree to my bargain?"
Homura dipped her head forward, too anguished to continue looking a being who so closely resembled Madoka in the eye. Of course, since she still held the real deal in her lap, that wasn't much better. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to block out what was left of the world.
"Even…Even if I did…" she mumbled, the words tumbling from her mouth without thought. "How would you even get her out of me?"
"Let me worry about that part, darling girl," the Witch told her. If the analytical part of Homura's mind was still working, she might've thought the reply came a bit too quick. "You need only allow me into your heart, and your soul. I will take care of the rest."
The next words came like a soft caress against her ear, "You won't ever need to fight again. You won't need to struggle. Just give in, Homura Akemi. And let me be the one to finally grant your Wish."
Slowly, helplessly, Homura found her lips beginning to part. About the give the response she knew would doom herself, and every Magical Girl who had ever lived.
Because Gretchen was right. She didn't have the will to fight anymore.
"I…I…" she began, tears welling up in her eyes for what would surely be the last time. There wouldn't be a need to cry, once she sunk back into that blissful dream.
That was when a blur of white and pink flew in from nowhere, and body-slammed into the Witch of Salvation with the force of a tanker truck.
"Sorry I'm late, Akemi-san," said Iroha Tamaki, hovering in place on the power of her single wing.
[-]
Iroha had just been through a very interesting twenty minutes.
Waking up in a dark room to find yourself surrounded by a collection of glass-eyed corpses – including that of your closest companion – was bound to throw anyone for a loop. Doubly so once she came fully to her senses, and realized what her resumed consciousness meant.
This timeline's Homura Akemi had enchanted her with a sleeping spell, since her usual tactic of removing a girl's Soul Gem wouldn't work on a normal (well, mostly normal) human. She shouldn't have reawakened without the self-proclaimed Devil being here to cast the counter-curse.
There were only two possible explanations. Either Homura had miscalculated and messed up the spell somehow…which Iroha very much doubted, as the Homura she knew from "back home" was the most meticulous planner she'd ever met…
Or else the magic fueling that spell was gone.
Iroha lacked the sharp, analytical mind of Homura-san or Yachiyo-san, but even she could tell that anything capable of disrupting the magic of a being on-par with the Law of Cycles was bad news. Whatever was behind this, she resolved not to wait around to find out.
It pained her, but she had no choice but to leave behind Yachiyo-san and the others. She was still borrowing the body of this world's Iroha Tamaki, who'd never become a Magical Girl and got winded climbing long flights of stairs. Carrying the body of a girl who had four years and nine centimeters on her simply wasn't in the cards.
Her single ace in the hole was her wing, which she knew from experience could fly at speeds and carry weights that defied the laws of physics. But it was too risky to use it now – not without its partner.
In nature, wings came in pairs for a reason. Apart, they were an uncontrollable mess, liable to send her careening into a brick wall at the slightest breeze. While together…
Iroha cast one last, lingering glance at her comatose partner, her gut filling with guilt. How could one person be so close and yet so far, all at once?
"I'll come back for you, Yachiyo-san. I promise," she said, unsure who she was trying to fool with her feigned confidence. "I…I'll come back for all of you."
Making her way out of the Devil's lair was a surprisingly simple affair. The only real challenge was escaping the rope Homura had used to tie her up, but that didn't take long to rectify.
One of the other girls held captive here was clearly this world's version of Alina Gray, and while her stomach churned at the idea of getting so close to the insane artist, Iroha knew she always carried a handful of pens on her. The old-fashioned kind, with really sharp tips.
The rope wasn't especially thick, so it only took her a few minutes of awkward sawing to split the threads around her wrists. The rest came easily after that.
She'd expected to run into opposition as soon as she fled that basement chamber, but it seemed the magic that turned this building into a mini-Labyrinth was being drained as well. Without that, it was just…an apartment.
One she fled as fast as her scrawny legs could carry her.
Unfortunately, it was outside the Akemi residence that things started to get topsy-turvy. The more she traveled along this street, the less progress she seemed to make. While she wasn't familiar enough with Mitakihara City to tell for certain, she was pretty sure she'd passed that corner market three times now.
There was also a rather disturbing dearth of other people. She walked for what seemed like at least a kilometer without running into a single human being – or any living thing, for that matter. No birds in the sky, no cats or dogs playing in the nigh-infinite identical lawns she passed.
But most troubling of all was the fact that she couldn't see the end of the street, nor the edge of the sky. It all disappeared into a fuzzy, indistinct blackness at a certain point.
Iroha was reminded of a complaint she'd once heard Felicia-chan raise, about "this stupid crappy draw distance!" in some mobile game she played. It felt like that, but in real life.
She couldn't shake the fear that at some point, she'd try to take a step forward and find the road was no longer there.
After a despairingly anxious ten minutes or so of this, her ears pricked up at an unexpected sound.
"You see anything with your right eye, Sorawo?"
"Urgh…I'm trying. This isn't like any part of the Otherside we've ever been to."
Iroha's heart jumped with elation, even if she couldn't make heads or tails of what was being said. Finally, other people!
But as she ran forward, her face gradually fell. There was a pair of young women in the distance, but their backs were to her, so all she could see was that one had short black hair and the other was a blonde.
Yet even as Iroha's eyes fell upon them, the outlines of the women had already begun to fray and fade away. Like they were nothing more than heat-induced mirages; her imagination playing tricks.
Iroha burst into a sprint as the pair became almost completely insubstantial, calling out helplessly. But if the women could hear her words, they ignored them.
They simply laced their hands around one another's, and disappeared into the vast, formless void.
The pink-haired girl stopped in her tracks where the couple had just been standing, looking up at a sky that was beginning to turn an unnatural blend of red and black.
"This entire reality is falling apart," she said breathlessly. "I…I have to hurry…"
Things continued to grow worse from there. Every step she took seemed to carry with it another tree or rock or building vanishing into the darkness, never to be seen again. Like someone was flicking off the light switches, one by one, for the entire world around her.
And any bystanders she did run into swiftly met the same fate as those young women. Each and every one disappeared before her eyes, leaving not even a cloud of dust or wisp of smoke in their wake. One minute she was looking at them, and the next they were just…gone.
Not a single one cried or screamed. The few faces she managed to catch looked almost…resigned to the outcome.
As if there was nothing any of them could do, and no point in trying.
With every step she took, a part of Iroha was terrified that she'd be next. That any second now she'd look down, and be able to see straight through her fading body.
But for whatever reason, she alone seemed to have been spared. Those fears never came to pass, as she continued her mad dash for Mitakihara Middle School.
Maybe it was her connection to the Law of Cycles. Or, conversely…maybe it was the profound ordinariness of this world's Iroha Tamaki, that allowed her to fly under the radar of whatever force was behind this.
Regardless, it was in that moment that she found the school building looming in her sights at last.
With one look, she instantly knew she'd guessed right. The middle school was the lone part of the horizon that remained totally solid, even as the sky and ground surrounding it collapsed from view. There was only one possible explanation.
Whoever was behind all this, she'd find them here.
Iroha started for the front entrance, but held herself back after the first step. What would Yachiyo-san say at a time like this?
She'd probably chastise her for running in without a plan, yet again. For falling into what could very well be a trap.
Her eyes drifted away from the school, and toward an office building across the street. She could climb up there to get a clearer vantage point. Whatever was going on, her instincts told her it was centered on the roof.
Not knowing how long this building would last, Iroha tore through a side-door and up its fire escape, taking the steps two at a time. Her legs were already burning fiercely from all the walking thus far, but she pushed through nonetheless.
Eventually, as she drew closer and closer to the top floor, she began to get a sharper picture of what was lying in wait on the middle school rooftop. She could sense, feel, see the heat of the gathering energies.
Until finally, she reached high enough to clearly see the figure floating at the center of those energies.
Without really intending to, she felt the soft, feathered wing burst from her back. Lack of control was no longer an excuse.
Her mouth open in abject horror, the pink-haired girl knew that she needed to get over there now.
Getting a running start, Iroha flapped her massive wing and took to the sky at blinding speed. Building up as much force as she possibly could, aiming herself like a very soft missile.
That was how the girl who wasn't quite an angel, managed to take by surprise the Witch who wasn't quite a god. Sending the both of them tumbling to the farthest edge of the roof.
"I…Iroha Tamaki…?" stammered a shellshocked Homura. "Where did you…How did you…?"
"There's no time!" Iroha called back. "You need to take Kaname-san and go, right now!"
Unfortunately, it only took a few seconds for Kriemhild Gretchen to recover from the initial shock. She back-handed Iroha with her left arm, and despite how scrawny it appeared, it hit with enough force to tear apart steel.
"I recognize that wing. Proof of your connection to the Law of Cycles," said the Witch furiously. "A connection I shall take full advantage of. On your knees!"
Iroha braced herself, as Gretchen raised a commanding fist to the sky. But to both their surprises, nothing happened.
"I don't know what you're trying to do. But you should know I'm not a 'true' Messenger. Yachiyo-san and I haven't yet ascended," she told the Witch of Salvation. Anything to keep her talking, anything to buy Akemi-san more time. "You could think of us more like…part-timers."
An irritated grimace fell over Gretchen's face – yet another expression that looked positively alien on the cute features of Madoka Kaname.
"I see. My Origin was cleverer than I gave her credit for, it seems," she spoke coldly. "Still, there is no mistaking the source of your power. So even if I cannot control it…"
Suddenly, the fingers she'd balled into a fist split apart. At the same time, a pang of pure, searing pain rang through Iroha's wing, and she tumbled gracelessly to the ground.
Watching as the appendage befell the same fate as all those buildings and people down below, glitching and fading from view.
"No…Not yet…" she said in a small voice. Her eyes drifted backward, locking straight onto the once-proud Devil, who was now shivering helplessly and clinging for dear life onto the girl she loved.
"Iroha Tamaki. As…irritating as your interference may be, know that the Witch of Salvation hold no grudges. You will still gain my boon, just as all will in time," declared Gretchen. "Surrender now, and I can even make it painless."
The pink-haired girl took a deep breath. She'd only have one chance to pull this off.
"Guess I don't have much of a choice," she murmured, clutching onto her rapidly dissipating wing. "After all…I think this thing only has one flight left in it."
And with that, she ripped the wing off her shoulder, and sent it flying backward. Sweeping this world's Homura and Madoka up with it.
"NO!" the Witch bellowed, her voice briefly becoming monstrous and guttural.
But even she was powerless to do anything but watch as the wing of the Law of Cycles escaped with her quarry. The last vestige of Iroha's borrowed power carrying them dozens of kilometers away.
"FIND THEM!" Kriemhild Gretchen continued to scream, this time turning her attentions to girls who could only be Mami Tomoe, Sayaka Miki, and Kyoko Sakura, who'd been watching this whole scene from the sidelines. "LET NOTHING STOP YOU FROM BRINGING THEM BACK TO ME!"
Then, with eyes like ferocious fire, she looked back to Iroha, clutching her tightly with fingers like claws.
"And as for you…" she said, her voice returned to its normal cadence, though no less furious. "You and your girlfriend are going to join me on a little field trip."
She raised two of those fingers to the blackened Soul Gems around her neck, and casually flicked one of them – a Gem that Iroha knew and cherished more than she did herself.
"We're going to make sure we don't have any more of these…distractions."
[-]
Homura wasn't sure how far they managed to travel before the mana in the wing was exhausted completely, and they collapsed in a heap in some dank, distant alley.
Her surroundings weren't immediately familiar, but then even she didn't know every street or hideaway in Mitakihara City. Despite all her repeated sojourns, most had been centered on the same handful of haunts.
Not that she had much thought to spare for such matters. She was far too preoccupied with the unconscious girl cradled in her arms.
With shaking hands, Homura turned Madoka's body over and over, checking for any wounds. Their "flight" had been rough and uncontrolled, and traveling at a speed just shy of a jet plane. She'd tried to shield Madoka head and chest with her own as best she could, but she'd watched the girl die too many times to ever let go of that fear…
Still, in this case at least, it seemed she could breathe a sigh of relief. Madoka bore no external signs of damage, and her pulse and breathing were both regular.
Mental and emotional damage were another story.
Of all the countless sins Gretchen had laid at her feet, that one stung the worst. The indominable strength of will that Madoka Kaname held in her heart – a heart so beautiful and wonderful that it was deemed worthy of the mantle of Heaven – had been brought fallow by her words, and her actions.
Truly, if nothing else did, that proved that she was worthy of her self-selected title of "Devil." Who else could take something so good and so pure, and plunge it into the filthy mire?
Until the Goddess' soul was as tainted and polluted as her own.
Logically, she knew that because this was her crime, it was also her responsibility to fix. But it was hard to think logically right now.
Not when all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball, and let the Hell she'd constructed collapse around her.
She could see it happening, in real time. Without the magic she'd used to construct this new reality, there was nothing to keep it from breaking apart at the seams. Gretchen clearly wasn't concerned; annihilation of the multiverse was the first step of her plan, after all.
It showed even in the visions her subconscious had used to populate this world. One by one she watched them vanish, returning to the vestiges of her imagination (or Monthly Shonen Jump) where they belonged.
She also couldn't help but feel that current circumstances were influencing the type of characters she saw. A man with a lab coat and three-day-old stubble, desperately punching characters into his cell phone. A boy in a black and orange tracksuit, bleeding from his arm as he shouted a name no one could hear. A pair of girls, one a freckled brunette in a sweater and the other with dyed-blue hair and a beanie, kissing fiercely before raging stormwinds claimed them both.
"Yes, subconscious, I get it," she said under her breath, screwing her eyes shut so that she wouldn't be forced to witness any more death. "Time travel fucking sucks."
"Homura-chan, you shouldn't…swear…" mumbled a tiny voice, causing Homura's veins to run cold as ice.
Slowly, as if daring herself not to believe it, her eyes drifted downward.
To be met by the rosy gaze of Madoka Kaname.
"Madoka…" Homura's voice practically broke halfway through saying the name. "Y…You're okay…"
"I…I don't know about that," admitted Madoka, clutching at her forehead and wincing. "But I'm awake, at least. Everything's a blur…what happened while I was out?"
Homura's eyes swiveled around the alleyway, taking in their surroundings. The fictional constructs had all vanished from view, but there was no way to hide the fact that reality was coming undone around them.
If, of course, she even wanted to. Hiding things from Madoka was how they'd gotten into this mess in the first place.
So instead, she helped the other girl rise unsteadily to her feet. Lent her shoulder for Madoka to lean on, so they could slowly limp out into the street.
"I know…the last thing I can ask you to do is trust me right now," she said. "But I really do need you to wait just a little longer. I'll answer your questions – all of them. But it's not safe to do it out here."
Madoka, mercifully, didn't request any details. The former Devil wouldn't have even known where to begin with the "short version" of everything that'd just transpired.
Instead, all she asked was, "Where are we going, then?"
"To a place I never wanted you to see," Homura told the pink-haired girl. "Because I'm pretty sure I know where we are now. And it isn't too far."
As she spoke these words, her eyes ran over a distant sign, reading "Welcome to Asunaro City." And a small sweets shop she'd frequented more times than she could count, literal lifetimes ago.
"It's time for me to go home."
[-]
Teave hadn't been a Messenger for very long. Or maybe she'd been one forever.
That was the tricky thing about this place. If you could even call it a "place" to begin with. Since time wasn't an applicable attribute here, they were all simultaneously newbies and veterans, at every second of every part of history.
She knew there were other girls who'd been here when she first became part of the Law of Cycles. Girls who'd taught her every tip or trick they knew about saving other Magical Girls from their fates.
And this was despite the fact that some of them, like Abby or Jaya, had clearly been born countless years after she. By the calendars used in their eras, she'd lived in the "tenth century," on an island called Rapa Nui – though it seemed it had a different name later in history.
Regardless, compared to the life she'd lived previously, existence as a Messenger had taken some getting used to. Before her ascension, most of her days had been quiet and pastoral, tending to the crops and chickens and helping her mother prepare nets for fishing.
That was until a small, white, rodent-like creature appeared to her one night, and convinced her to make a Wish.
The Wish was simple. Her father was an important man; next in line to be 'ariki mau, the highest of chiefs. She overheard him one night, speaking to his advisors and drawing up plans for what would be their people's greatest work: a series of moai, enormous stone statues to honor their ancestors.
Yet, he lamented, the only way to transport so much heavy stone was to use felled logs as rollers. And there weren't nearly enough trees near their quarries.
So Teave sought out the mysterious creature again, and asked him for a grove of new trees. A boon he was only too happy to grant.
Her father was ecstatic at what he saw as a gift from the gods, and a sign that his plan was divinely ordained. The tribe immediately set to work, their greatest masons and artisans joining hand-in-hand to bring the moai to life.
And all along, Teave watched from the sidelines, pleased that she'd done such a good thing for her father.
But that happy atmosphere didn't last long. Almost as soon as the first moai were erected around the island, malevolent spirits began haunting their villages. Ruining crops, poisoning the land, driving their elders to madness. A few of the statues were even toppled.
The tribe soon turned to infighting. Some blamed the moai for bringing down a curse from the gods. Others believed it was a sign they weren't erecting the statues fast enough.
Teave, alone, knew the truth. Because that white creature had come to her one night, and explained that this was the work of beings called "Wraiths." Beings who it was her duty, as a Magical Girl, to vanquish.
Under his instruction, Teave had done her best to track down and defeat the Wraiths. But as the only Magical Girl on Rapa Nui, it was difficult work. Even if she claimed victory over one or two, there always seemed to be a dozen more waiting in the shadows.
Finally, when her tiny body could no longer take the strain, she'd collapsed in a heap on the ground. Feeling the last sparks of magic fade from her body, she'd closed her eyes for what must surely be the last time.
When she awoke again, she was here.
The sights, the sounds, the feeling of this place…nothing in her previous life had prepared her for it. Comparing the two was like comparing a lightless cavern to the surface of the sun.
Here, there were hundreds of girls, just like her. Girls whose hopes and dreams had likewise been embodied in the power of Wishes.
Girls who'd been chosen to fight the good fight, even after they fell.
And then…there was her.
She always resisted the tendency of some to treat her as a goddess, but Teave really wasn't sure what else to call her. She was the one who'd saved them all. Whose light they'd all sworn to share with others.
No matter what else was going on, she made time for each and every one of her Messengers – even though she was literally always busy. Her schedule started at the beginning of time, and lasted to its end.
Yet she always made the effort to treat Teave as an individual. To get to know her thoughts, and dreams, and fears. Her patience never wavered. Nor her compassion.
Until the moment when, suddenly, she wasn't there anymore.
The Law of Cycles – which was ultimately the only name they'd ever known to call her – still existed. But it no longer had a face, or a form, or a soft, melodious voice.
It just…was. Sitting there in the background, quietly serving its function. No more, and no less.
The difference was night and day. None of them knew why their leader had forsaken them. Why she no longer answered their calls, and their prayers.
The last time they'd all seen her was when she convened them in conference, to describe the plight of one Homura Akemi. And yes, the plan she'd proposed had seemed…reckless, at best. But surely, everything had worked out in the end?
Surely, the Law of Cycles couldn't have…lost?
Still, the uncertainty of it all had the entire pantheon of Messengers in an anxious fret. None of them quite knew what to do with themselves without the guiding hand of their goddess.
Cleopatra and Sigrun, as the pair tasked directly by the Law on some unknown "contingency," had tried to keep order as best they could. But for many of the former Magical Girls – Teave included – this sense of abandonment risked opening old wounds.
Which was why her heart practically leapt out of her chest when she saw that shock of pink hair.
"Finally! I knew you'd come back!" she said tearfully, rushing to meet her savior. "Everyone's going to be so hap…"
But she stopped cold in her tracks as a figure loomed over her. A figure that resembled the Law of Cycles only in the most superficial details.
Her lacy black dress, fierce crimson eyes, and cruel smirk all revealed otherwise. Not to mention the fact that she was holding another rose-haired girl by the throat.
"Yes, you're quite correct," spoke the figure, her voice a vicious parody of the one that'd once shared with them whispers of peace and love. "You're going to help me make sure everyone is very happy indeed."
[-]
Madoka wasn't sure what to make of what she was seeing.
In its prime, this building must've been truly beautiful. Warm and inviting; the perfect blend of quaint and modern.
But now, the technicolor paint was peeled and torn. The aging playground equipment was marred with dirt and rust. Windows had been hastily boarded up, half the nails crooked or missing.
A dented, heavily graffitied sign revealed the identity of this condemned wreck…
Kaminaga Christian Home for Girls
"It shut down less than three months after I left. Not enough revenue from the city to keep its doors open," said Homura in a low, stoic voice. "Thought about sending money back, once or twice. My powers would've made it effortless to get some. But…it just didn't seem important, after a while."
"This is where you grew up?" asked Madoka, though she knew the answer. "I…I didn't know."
"There are worse places to spend one's childhood. Ask Nagisa Momoe or Yuma Chitose sometime," Homura muttered. "Now, come on. We need to get out of sight."
Madoka didn't understand – hadn't understood anything for the past several hours – but followed the other girl nonetheless.
As she watched Homura stumble forward, awkwardly grasping onto a loosely hanging board and pushing it aside with a great wheeze of effort, she realized she'd never seen the black-haired girl act so…clumsy. At any other time, it might've been cute.
"Sorry," she spoke, after almost tripping for the fifth time. "I'm pretty sure I need glasses again, but there aren't exactly any optometrists open."
Madoka crossed the threshold after the other girl, taking in her first glimpse of the interior of the orphanage. It wasn't much of an improvement on the exterior.
A thick layer of dust had fallen over everything. Large sections of the walls had been removed; judging by the exposed and torn wiring, probably by thieves looking to steal copper. And the less said about the smell, the better.
Despite her mixed feelings toward the girl right now, she found herself clinging tightly to Homura's arm, not wanting to be separated.
"Wh…Where was your room…?" she whispered, for lack of anything better to say.
"Over there," said Homura, pointing toward a door at the end of the hallway. "I suppose it's as good a place to speak as any."
The bedroom in question was, if anything, even dustier than the rest of the orphanage. Still, Madoka could see enough traces in the walls and décor to tell it must've been rather pretty, once upon a time. Small, but cozy.
With so little light streaming into the room, it was all but inevitable that she'd wind up tripping over something. And indeed, it took all of three seconds for her knee to collide painfully with a bedside table. The drawer flew open, and a small object was dislodged onto the floor.
Ignoring the pain, and Homura's harried demands over whether she was okay, Madoka bent down to pick it up.
"This is…a Christian Bible, right?" she asked in a small voice. "I didn't know you were…"
"This orphanage was run by a small Catholic church behind the building," responded the other girl. "Personally, I've…never believed. Not in that way, at least. But I don't begrudge those who find comfort in it."
She was making herself busy as she talked, dusting off her old bed to give them a place to sit. It was beyond obvious that she was trying to delay the beginning of their heart to heart as long as possible.
Madoka wasn't especially eager either. She didn't know what they were about to talk about, exactly – but she was certain it wouldn't be an easy conversation.
She just felt…so exhausted right now. Like she hadn't slept in days. All those brutal, negative thoughts she'd shared with Kyubey were still swirling around her brain, fueled only further by how cagey Homura was being about everything.
But if she wanted answers, now was the time. Homura had promised, hadn't she?
Despite all the other doubts she held about the girl right now, she chose to trust in that promise. There was no way for them to move forward unless she did.
"This is going to sound strange," she said, sitting down on the bed as soon as Homura had a spot cleared. She kept her eyes focused on the Bible in her hands, rather than the other girl. "But while I was unconscious, I feel like I had one of those…out of body experiences. Like you hear about on TV."
"What did you see, exactly?" Homura murmured back. It was impossible to read her tone of voice.
"It was…me. Or another me," Madoka told her. It felt like her brain was swimming through mud, simply trying to recall the details, but she pushed through nonetheless. "But she was saying these…these awful things. So cruel…"
A long pause followed these words. Eventually, the black-haired girl spoke in a low, neutral voice, "I…don't even know where to start. Maybe the best way…"
She took a deep, rattling breath.
"Is to tell you a story."
[-]
Once upon a time, there lived a very lonely girl.
The girl had almost nothing to her name. No family, no friends, no money. She lived off the pity of the state, and those hand-picked few who took its funds.
The girl was weak, and sickly, and frail. She seemed to be in and out of the hospital every other day – or at least that's what it felt like, at that age.
Hers was a life devoid of hope. She'd resigned herself to that fact.
Until one day, she met someone very, very special.
She wasn't "special" in the way that most people might've been able to see. She wasn't uncommonly smart, or wealthy, or beautiful. In fact she was a very ordinary girl, living a very ordinary life.
No, what made her special in the end was something much, much simpler. She was kind.
She was kind and gentle and caring, almost reflexively. Without even thinking about it, she spread her light to everyone around her, brightening their worlds with every sweet smile and encouraging word.
And soon enough, in her presence…
The lonely girl learned for the first time what it felt like to fall in love.
She never told the special girl. Of course not. She was so strong and brave – everything the lonely girl wasn't.
But that was okay. Simply being around her was enough. Being able to gaze upon her angelic face, and hear her musical laugh.
At least, that was what the lonely girl had thought.
Up until the moment she was staring at her corpse.
For the other girl had possessed a single, deep secret. One way in which she was really not very ordinary at all.
She was a…the best word might've been "hero." A defender of the good and the innocent. They'd met, in fact, when she was saving the lonely girl from mortal peril.
And in the course of that valiant quest, she had met her end.
The lonely girl was devastated. What justice was there in the world? When someone so pure and good should be struck down…so that a meek, useless parasite like her could continue to live?
It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.
She wouldn't allow it to stand.
So the lonely girl sought out the one entity she knew could change this fate. The one who'd granted power to her special one in the first place.
She looked it square in the eye, and asked for the same boon.
Her request, she'd thought, was a simple one. To turn back the sands of time, and meet the girl she loved once more. But this time, with enough power to protect her, instead of the other way around.
She hadn't yet learned that in this life, nothing was ever so simple.
Even armed with foreknowledge of the future, even with the two of them working in tandem, the foe they faced was too great. To the lonely girl's horror, her love fell again.
And again.
And again.
For she hadn't realized that the terms of her request were quite exacting. She had wished, so fervently, to protect the girl she loved. And she had failed.
Which meant that the magic had no choice but to rewind the clock once more, so that she might try again.
As weeks stretched into months, and months into years, the full picture gradually unfolded. That there seemed to be no escape from this miserable path was not by accident, but design.
For the entity who'd granted them their power in the first place was no kindly fairy godmother. It had its own agenda, for which they were mere pawns. From the moment they'd agreed to its bargain, both girls were irreversibly doomed.
But the lonely girl had been hardened by her sojourns through time. She would no longer stand passively by, and allow her special one to come to ruin.
If becoming a "hero" was the first step to the other girl's self-destruction, then she would just have to prevent it.
By any means necessary.
Over and over, across more repetitions than she could count, the lonely girl honed herself into a weapon. She discarded every aspect of herself that didn't contribute to that goal. Her hopes, her dreams. Her compassion and her empathy.
Her humanity.
Nothing else mattered, as long as the girl she loved was safe.
But it never worked. Not once. She'd come closer to her goal on some occasions than others, but ultimately the result was always the same.
The special girl, lying dead on the ground.
Or worse.
Eventually, when the lonely girl was so deep inside the quagmire that she could see nothing else, a different version of her special one stepped forward, and made a very different wish. One that changed everything.
Every last shred of misery their manipulator had inflicted across history was erased in an instant. The world rebuilt from the ground up, to become a kinder and gentler place.
And all it cost was that the special girl would have to see to it, personally. For all of eternity.
For that was simply her nature. If she could alleviate the suffering of countless others, simply by shouldering it herself…well, that was scarcely any choice at all.
But then, what was to become of the lonely girl? Left adrift, bereft, once more?
At first, she did try to honor her love's sacrifice. To fight on, in her memory, protecting the world she'd cared about so deeply.
But the years wore on her mind, and her heart. Not a single other soul in the universe remembered the special girl. To her friends and family, her name was that of a stranger. Only her little brother, too young and innocent to realize he was meant to forget, carried traces of their time together. And even those faded as he aged.
After a while, the lonely girl began to wonder if she'd dreamt it all. If the idea of someone who could care for a girl as broken and worthless as her was nothing but a flight of fantasy.
Perhaps there was never a special girl. Perhaps, all along, she'd always been alone.
In the wake of such thoughts, the lonely girl fell into an abyss so deep and so dark that there was no hope of escape.
Leaving her a prime target for her oldest foe.
For the beings who'd originally empowered her had been quietly biding their time. They coveted the power the special girl had claimed, and used the lonely girl as a pawn to draw her out.
Their plan almost worked. Now ascended to something like a goddess, the special girl came down from her heaven, offering salvation to the girl who loved her more than any other. Moreover, she outsmarted her would-be captors, leaving them with nothing.
But the lonely girl was torn. Her love was real after all. But also beyond her reach. Consigned, by the burden she'd chosen to bear, to never again experience a single day of honeyed warmth for herself.
Which left the lonely girl with one question. Could she make the choice that, at the very beginning of her journey, she'd been too weak to contemplate…
And let her love go?
Well, if you've been listening to the story so far, you should already know the answer.
The lonely girl tricked her aspiring savior, and trapped her within the bounds of the cold earth. She used chains of viciousness, and malice, and sorrow. Until the goddess was her prisoner, and she, the cruel jailer.
She was transformed by this sinful deed. She had done something so awful, so unspeakably wicked, that the only thing she could be called was a devil. And so, she embraced that title.
The devil stripped from the goddess everything that she held dear. Her memories, her mission. Until she was little more than a puppet, dancing upon the stage her once-love had so delicately crafted.
She knew what she had done was unforgiveable. And she knew it couldn't last forever. Yet still, she persisted.
No matter how much pain she caused. No matter how much she had to sacrifice. No matter if it might doom every last man, woman, and child whom she'd plunged into hell alongside her.
Because she could see no other way to fulfill the wish that'd filled her heart, all those years ago…
To save her special one, and give her a chance to be happy once more.
[-]
A great deal had changed, in just the last instant.
It was hard to know for certain, because Teave only had the most superficial of understandings as to what the Law of Cycles had been like before this moment. She could tell there had been a change, but since time was nonlinear here, once it was made things had always been this way. She and the other Messengers didn't know any other mode of existence.
They knew their purpose, at least: to bring peace and happiness to every Magical Girl throughout history. And eventually, to everyone, across the infinite bounds of time and space.
They knew this like they knew the sky was blue. It was inherent to their very nature, as vanguards of Hope itself.
For what could bring more Hope than saving others, the way they had been saved?
"Teave? You've been summoned," said a voice from behind. The Polynesian girl turned to see Empress Xiaoping of the Han Dynasty, her head bowed low. "Our Savior has need of our services."
The girl's heart immediately swelled. Like all Messengers, she loved their Savior, deep to the core of her soul. To be useful to her was an honor beyond description.
Teave fell into lockstep with Xiaoping without hesitation. They were joined shortly thereafter by a number of other familiar faces – Amelia, Abby, Kausar, Sacniete, and Anastasia. All wore identical expressions of pure contentment.
"Oh, how wonderful to see you all!" declared the former Grand Duchess, clutching at her court dress and curtsying. "Isn't this all so exciting? After everything our Savior has done for us…to be chosen to carry out her will…"
"I know what you mean. Thanks to her, the Maya golden age will last for all eternity," Sacniete told her friend. "At least for me. Why wouldn't I share that gift with all the brothers and sisters I left behind?"
"Being in her presence is like a flight that never ends," added Amelia Earhart serenely. "It's a thrill that…no, words can't do it justice."
"My mom finally accepts me. Really accepts me. For who I've always known I was," Abby was almost in tears behind her glasses. Those who knew the trans girl's usual stoic demeanor would've been shocked at the sheer emotion in her voice. "I didn't think that was possible, but she made it happen."
Kausar didn't say anything audible in response; she was too busy praying under her breath in Arabic. But it was clear from the reverence in her expression that she felt the same way.
Eventually, the seven of them arrived at their destination. Since the world of the Law of Cycles was a plane of belief rather than substance, it was up to their own individual perspectives as to how they saw this place.
But as they now all possessed the same perspective, Teave was all but certain they were united in what they were witnessing.
Planets, galaxies, entire universes swirled about, orbiting the entity who was rightfully at the center of them all. An entity who radiated power and authority, simply by existing.
The girls sank to their knees in a submissive bow, basking in the glow of their Savior.
"Wise and noble goddess," said Xiaoping, her voice practically aching with worship. "We have arrived to serve."
For a split-second, Teave had the strangest sensation that there was something…off about that term of address? But she dismissed the feeling just as quickly.
What else could someone so perfect be called?
Their Savior looked down upon them with a smile that could melt ice.
"You have all done so well. By utilizing the mana you've stored across endless eternities, my Barrier is spreading faster than ever," she answered coolly. "Thanks to your unique positions, you have all been among the first to taste its bounty."
"And we wouldn't have it any other way," Anastasia whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "In your unending light, Папа is still with me. Мама. Мои сестры. I cannot give that up. I will not give that up."
"And you will never have to, my sweet child," said their Savior. "If only all your sisters were so enlightened. This one still refuses to accept me into her heart."
She tugged briefly on the energy chain that connected her to Iroha Tamaki, who chafed at the sudden constriction around her throat.
The Messengers looked upon the rose-eyed girl without hatred or disgust, but rather pity. Teave simply couldn't understand why anyone would turn away from the bliss that filled her every waking thought right now, and from the looks on her compatriots' faces, they were likewise mystified.
"But it is only a matter of time. And time is something we have only too much of," their Savior continued unabated. "Yet just as our resources are infinite, so too is our mission. I will not accept even a single unsaved soul. But how can we hope to complete a task that has no end?"
The gathered girls stared at each other for a few moments, before Abby, the most intellectual among them, chanced a guess.
"If it is too much for even you to handle alone…" she reasoned out slowly. "Then surely the solution is to recruit more assistance? We Messengers are elite, but few."
"Ah, an excellent answer," said their Savior, causing Abby to shudder down to her knees. Praise from their goddess was like the most potent drug imaginable, for those who had been touched by her light. "And approaching the crux of the matter. Yes, I must have more disciples. But each of you are, forgive me, a mere drop in the bucket. Relative to the size of the multiverse, at least."
"Then what can be done, ma déesse?" asked Tart as she entered from the opposite side of the "room," followed swiftly by Kyalamboka, Socorro, Sacagawea, Jaya, and Anne Bonny. It seemed they hadn't been the only ones summoned.
"That solution is already underway, my children," their Savior replied, inclining her ethereal features toward the Maid of Orléans. "For you see, as powerful as I am now, the magic I wield must still operate within the parameters of the Law of Cycles. Paths dictated by rules as strict as they are unhelpful. They limit my ability to spread my gift to all of existence, and that is UNACCEPTABLE."
If every word before had been like the most soulful music, then that last one had been nails scraping against stone. Teave briefly fell to her knees, agonized by that singular flash of fury.
But it was forgotten almost as soon as it happened, lost awash a far more potent flood of pleasurable bliss.
"Thankfully, the key to our victory hides in the universe where my influence is most acutely felt," their Savior went on, as if nothing had happened. "For if rules are my enemy…then why not join with the one whose magic has already broken so many?"
She seemed to be looking somewhere none of them could see as she spoke her next words.
"She will be mine soon enough. We are promised to each other, after all."
[-]
Madoka sat there for several minutes after Homura's breath ran out, wondering what she could possibly say.
She'd been tempted, more times than she could count, to interrupt the other girl's story before its conclusion. But ultimately, she'd wound up far too enraptured.
Homura's voice had a mesmeric quality to it, even now. Perhaps especially now. For the first time since meeting, Madoka was certain the other girl was no longer wearing a mask.
Every last word was the full, heart-wrenching truth.
Sure, Madoka hadn't understood every part, but even if Homura had steadfastly avoided using any names, her meaning was beyond obvious. Even someone as slow-witted as her could put together the pieces.
Madoka hadn't just been a Magical Girl. She'd been something…greater. Vastly more powerful.
It was a patently absurd notion – that weak, pathetic, useless nobody Madoka Kaname had such potential locked within her – and yet on some basic, instinctive level, she couldn't bring herself to reject the idea entirely. It resonated with the wavelengths of her heart, somewhere very deep down.
Kyubey was the next piece of the puzzle, and the easiest to fit in the hole Homura described. He'd been so terrifying in his last moments, so insistent on using her for a purpose she neither knew nor understood, that it wasn't hard at all to cast him in the role of the sinister, behind-the-scenes villain.
Homura herself was an entirely different story.
She'd admitted to some…truly awful things. And Madoka got the distinct sense that it was only the tip of the iceberg.
Sure, Homura had a distressing tendency to overemphasize her negative qualities; to cast herself as a monstrous figure, in contrast to the hallowed pedestal she placed Madoka upon. Yet this seemed different.
Her mental state wasn't, as she'd naively assumed when they woke up that morning (was that really still today? It felt like an eternity ago…) the result of normal human depression. These wounds had been festering for longer than Madoka could comprehend.
From the very beginning of their friendship, Homura Akemi had been a broken soul. She'd hid it well, at first. But now there was no mistaking it.
The girl sat before her, feelings flowing free like blood. Feelings that had driven her to crimes she could scarcely describe.
"Homura-chan…" she said in a tiny, strangled whisper. She had no idea how long the silence had hung over the two of them before she broke it. "I…I just need to know why. Why are you finally telling me this now?"
"When it no longer does any good, you mean?" asked Homura, her voice hoarse and throaty. "It's a fair question. I had so many chances before, to do the right thing. I chose not to. Nobody forced me. But I was so sure…"
The raven-haired girl inhaled a ragged, shuddering breath.
"They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. And I promise you, I…I never meant for this to happen. All I wanted…" she continued on, pausing briefly to swallow. "All I wanted was for you to be happy. To give you the simple, ordinary life you deserve. No matter what it cost."
"Homura-chan, I didn't mean…" Madoka started to say, but Homura cut her off with a strangled wail.
"Let me finish!" she shouted, eyes screwed shut and head between her hands. "Look, I know it's my own fault. But to see it all come crashing down…because I went and pissed over everything you ever stood for…"
Between the gaps of her fingers, tears were now falling freely.
"I always knew, deep down…that I was in the wrong. And I accepted that. I've spent so much time in the darkness, justifying one sin after the next if it meant saving you in the end…" said Homura, her voice shaking harder with each word over the last. "That it was easy to do the same for the ultimate sin. I mean, I christened myself 'Devil,' and I did it proudly! How fucked up is that?"
Homura was scaring her now. But Madoka held her ground nonetheless. No matter what happened, she wouldn't run from this.
And to prove it, she clasped Homura's hands with her own.
"I know this is hard," she murmured. "But you're doing the right thing, opening up to me about this. I still don't understand everything, but…"
"Of course you don't," Homura interrupted her again, making a scoffing noise with her tongue. "Not when I've sucked out every last scrap of knowledge from your head. Made it impossible for you to make an informed decision. And left you easy prey for your alternate universe corrupted self, don't forget."
"My…wait, what?" asked Madoka, now feeling more lost than ever.
Homura slapped a palm to her forehead. "Of course, I stopped the 'story' before the most important part," she said. "Fuck, there's no quick way to explain Witches. Except to say that…in the end, this is really no more her fault than yours. It's the nature of a Witch to take the darkest parts of a girl's inner self, and bring them to life. I can't blame her for that, any more than I can blame a shark for being lured to blood."
Her indigo-hued eyes locked onto Madoka's pink ones. There was so much swimming in their depths – sorrow, vulnerability, regret.
"I don't see a way out of this. I just don't," she breathed out, her voice quieting to barely above a whisper. "I've spent all this time trying to come up with some clever strategy or backup plan…but no. I just draw a blank. She's won, Madoka. And that means…"
Again, Madoka was tempted to interject, but instead found herself transfixed by the other girl. By the sheer, raw emotion radiating from her like heat.
She couldn't see where Homura was going with this. But she needed to find out, as desperately as she needed to breathe.
"That means…that this is my last chance. To make the right choice, for once in my goddamned life," spoke the raven-haired girl, her voice now as low and soft as the wind, blowing through a field of flowers.
"It's time…for me to finally set you free."
[-]
Kyoko groaned groggily, her awakening mind very slowly catching up with her body.
A body that was presently being pounded on by small but insistent hands.
"Nee-san!" squeaked a tiny voice. "Get up already! It's time for breakfast!"
The redhead's eyes instantly shot open. Not only because the prospect of food had just been mentioned within earshot, but also because she recognized that voice intimately. But no…it couldn't be…
She turned her head, and took in the adorably round face of Momo Sakura, trying to look threatening and failing miserably at it.
"You're so lazy sometimes!" said the girl, her cheeks puffed up in irritation. "Come on! You know daddy won't let us start eating until we're all there to say grace!"
Momo didn't bother waiting around for her big sister to regain her bearings, instead grabbing her by the arm and yanking with all her strength. She didn't have a great deal of that, of course, but it was enough to finally force Kyoko out of bed.
The redhead felt like she was sleepwalking as Momo led her by the hand, excitedly skipping two steps at a time. She couldn't believe, couldn't accept, that she was in the place her eyes and ears were telling her.
Not until she was standing face-to-face with her mother and father, both smiling warmly over a full table of delicious, home-cooked meals.
"Good morning, honey. I hope you like the spread," spoke Anzu Sakura, just as she put down the last platter – which was laden top-to-bottom with sizzling sausage and bacon. "Your father showed me your latest report card, and we're so proud!"
"I know school has never been your…strongest suit, sweetheart," Joji Sakura added in a calm, kind voice. "But you've really been making an effort lately, and it shows. That's all God can ask of His children, after all: to constantly work to improve thyself."
Kyoko, for her part, was only hearing every third word. She was far too distracted by the sheer impossibility of this scenario – and the grumbling of her stomach wasn't helping matters.
Still moving on autopilot, the teenager allowed herself to be guided into a chair at the end of the table. When her parents and sister clasped their hands in prayer, her own hands followed, guided by old instincts.
"Dear Father in Heaven, we thank you for our daily bread," said the minister. "Bless the hands that have prepared it, and the lips that partake in its bounty. May the watchful eye of Our Lord rest always with those we love and cherish. And may they, in turn, spread Your Gospel to all they meet, and make this day end brighter than the last. Amen."
"Amen," repeated the others, Kyoko included. It was the first group prayer she'd joined in a long, long time.
It was a sign of how utterly disoriented she was that the redhead was the last to start digging into the massive breakfast. But as gooey eggs and fluffy pancakes and steaming-hot rice vanished down her throat, Kyoko's worries gradually began to subside.
"Mama, I got a good grade too!" Momo declaring, beaming innocently. "My teacher said I had the best spelling test in the whole class!"
What did it matter that something felt "off" about this whole thing? When she was sitting here, eating delicious food alongside her laughing family?
"Good job, Momo-chan! My two brilliant girls!" said their mother, squeezing both of her daughters' shoulders affectionately. "Here, have another helping of ham."
Kyoko pushed the part of her brain that wanted to keep asking questions off into a dark, distant corner. Being here was…safe. Safe and warm and perfect.
"When I'm with you all, I feel the Lord's love more acutely than ever," Joji told his family. "May this be a truly blessed day."
She never wanted to leave.
[-]
In the real world, overlooking the landscape of Asunaro City, Kyoko slowly turned to Mami, offering her a serene smile. She received the same in turn.
Instinctively, she knew that her old mentor was likewise a great distance away. Drawn into an equally blissful dream.
Part of her brain was vaguely aware of the disconnect between what she was experiencing in her head, and the reality of the mission they were carrying out. She simply couldn't bring herself to care.
It was as their Savior had spoken. If fantasy was so much more wonderful than reality…
Then why should they be forced to choose the latter?
"We'll find our friends soon, Kyoko-san," said Mami confidently. "And share this miracle with them. I can't wait…for us all to be at peace."
"I can feel it. We're still connected ta her, at leas' a little bit," replied the redhead. "They gotta be close."
They both turned to the third member of their party, who gave an expression that Kyoko couldn't even begin to read. Whatever dream she was experiencing, it must've been quite a doozy.
"Yeah…" whispered Sayaka, her lips dipped into a small frown. "They're definitely close."
[-]
Meanwhile, in an abandoned orphanage some distance away, two girls sat alongside one another, a silence as thick and oppressive as fog settled between them.
Slowly, Homura Akemi leaned forward, screwing up the very last shreds of courage she had left in her cold, cowardly heart.
If she didn't do this now, she didn't trust herself to ever muster that courage again. Nor did she have any idea how much time they had left before Gretchen or one of her minions found them.
Even if she had no guarantee that this would even work now, with both their powers disrupted. She owed it to Madoka to try.
She owed it to herself to try.
"I apologize for being selfish, yet again. But I'm choosing to do it this way…because I know you'll never allow me to do it again, if it works," she said in a tiny, trembling voice. "So please, let me have this. One last time."
"Homura-chan, what do you…?" started the pink-haired girl, before being cut off by Homura's slender, calloused hands falling upon her shoulders.
"No matter what happens…no matter if we are a Goddess and a Devil, or simply two ordinary girls…" Homura choked out, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. "Please, just remember this, Madoka."
One final, strangled breath, as their faces drew closer and closer to one another, pulled together by a force far more powerful than gravity.
"That I will always, always love you."
Then, armed with the certainty that she would never get another opportunity, Homura Akemi kissed Madoka Kaname.
Their kiss lasted for some time. Madoka neither returned it, nor attempted to pull away. Her lips simply yielded to Homura's final, desperate goodbye.
Slowly, hesitantly, the girl who had once called herself Devil opened her eyes.
To be met by irises that had turned a warm, heavenly gold.