Chapter III
Be Cruel to Be Kind

I'm going to die.

That thought circled in my head, spinning around and around, while Akemi Homura - the Akemi Homura! - cried her tears into my chest.

I'm going to die. I'm going to die!

Emotions, complicated emotions that I did not want to acknowledge when I first heard the names Tomoe Mami and Mitakihara Town, bubbled and boiled inside of me, threatening to crack and split open, but I clamped down on them hard.

Don't make assumptions, I scolded myself. Don't make assumptions! It's just a coincidence. It's all just one massive, bullshit coincidence!

I squeezed my eyes shut, rapidly blinking away the tears that began welling up in the corners of my eyes. And I then gathered up all of my boiling, burning emotions, shoved them deep inside a little black box, and kicked it to the side. Now's not the time to have a little existential crisis. Not when I have a weeping girl with her arms wrapped around me and crying her heart out into my shirt. Not in front of Akemi Homura!

Carefully, I wrapped one hand around her, holding her against me, and placed the other hand over the back of her head. Then I lowered my head to her ears and began stroking her long raven hair.

"It's okay," I whispered into Homura's ears, "Everything's going to be okay, Homura. I'm here. I'm still here."

Homura tightened her hold on me, but her cries immediately ceased. She still drew in deep breaths of air and then released them, but they were controlled now. Measured. Disciplined. Her head still tried to snuggle deeper into my chest, though.

Scandalized murmurs entered my ears. I looked up from Homura and saw a crowd of Japanese pedestrians with their bullshit anime rainbow hair colors surrounding us, staring and whispering to each other as they walked around us.

Indignant anger flared up inside me, and I glared back at the gawking strangers. "Oi," I snarled. "Fuck off."

The spell broke, and the crowd turned their faces away from us. Some of them still threw their heads back to watch us, and others still continued to whisper to their companions while stealing glances, but at least they weren't openly staring at us anymore. I suppose that's the best I can ask for at the moment.

I turned my attention back to the young girl with raven hair and a black hairband in my arms, and I continued my efforts to try and comfort her. I whispered comforting noises into her ears while she clung to me like a drowning sailor, and I continued to stroke her hair.

A jolt of deja vu flew through me. How long has it been since I left Mami's apartment? It couldn't have been that long. Talk about one hell of a time to feel some deja vu, for what little good it would do.

A small pit of dread built up in my guts. This is going to become a common theme in the future, isn't it?

Finally, after a handful of minutes, Homura let a long breath and at long last relaxed in my arms. She looked up at me, now more composed, her eyes filled tender fondness and a soft smile on her face, even as fresh tears streaked down from her eyes.

My heart skipped a beat at the sight.

I was suddenly aware of how close our bodies were, as Homura pressed her body against mine. Her hands unwrapped themselves from my sides and reached up to my face. Her fingers gently wrapped around both sides of my face and caressed my cheeks with an uncomfortable sense of familiarity. The scent of fresh flowers suddenly filled my nose. Her heart-shaped face stood before me, her long raven black hair serving as her crown and her black hairband as her wreath. Soft red lips that had just kissed me quivered in the morning air, like petals of cherry blossoms on the wind. Her immaculate pale white skin shone radiantly in the sunlight, like a field of snow under the winter Sun. Purple eyes bored into my own, glittering like fine jewels of amethysts, searching through my soul.

Oh, she was so beautiful.

Oh, this is so terrifying.

I stared back with wide and nervous eyes, not daring to move or even breathe at her touch, lest I set this bewitching and incredibly dangerous magical girl off. My heart hammered away at my chest. My face burned at the sudden and unexpected intimacy, and I nervously swallowed. Fear and confusion churned in my guts alongside guilt and shame, along with a generous helping of lust and excitement sprinkled in for good measure.

I did not know what to think. I did not know what I was supposed to think. At least with Mami, I could argue I should have seen the warning signs coming, even if the sheer speed of her... attachment caught me off guard. But with Akemi Homura...!

I didn't know. I didn't know! I didn't know! How was I supposed to know?!

Emotions flickered in Homura's eyes, cutting off my panicking thoughts. Pain. Longing. Regret. Homura withdrew her hands away from my face. They slipped down until the palms of her hands rested against my chest. "Let's go, Ebeniza." She said softly. She grabbed my hand and pulled me back inside the metro entrance.

Please, follow me, Ebeniza. Homura's voice ranged inside of my head. We are not safe here. I have established a safehouse under the Sakura Church. I'll explain everything there.

So, I did what I felt was natural: I kept my mouth shut and followed the badass time-traveling magical girl who can kick my ass, before she decided to drag me out by my ass. At least then, there's less chance of me being publicly humiliated again.

Homura paid for both of our tickets and then led me to the train. Once onboard, she led me to one of the available secluded seats near the back, where there was no other passengers nearby. I sat down, and Homura quickly sat down beside me and laid her head on my shoulders.

I went still, my heart hammering away like a drum and my eyes staring at Homura from the corner of my vision. Purple eyes stared back into my own.

Please? Homura's voice whispered inside of my head, pleading to me. Can I?

What the Hell do I even say?! She's a time traveler, and she knows that I know that, but then why did she-!

I let out a mental scream. Arrrgh! Time travel is such bullshit! What the Hell should I even do?!

I squeezed my eyes shut to block out my panicking thoughts and drew in a sharp breath. Breathe.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

In. And out.

I cycled through a few breathing exercises, forcing myself to calm down and clear my thoughts of unnecessary clutter. Once I had centered myself, a rough sketch of a plan formed inside of my head.

Help Homura. Listen to her. Pray to God that there isn't any more damned curveball coming my way today.

I released my breath, and I mentally reached out to Homura's voice.

Hello? I broadcasted with my mental voice. Homura? Can you hear me?

Her purple eyes trembled, and tears welled up in them again. Ebeniza... She said softly inside my head. So many emotions were pushed into that single word, my middle name. Grief. Regret. Longing. Wonder. And more. So much more.

Compassion blossomed inside my heart when I heard the pain and desire in her telepathic voice. My arm wrapped itself around Homura and drew her closer to my side, and I laid my head against hers.

Homura, I simply said, my mental voice soft and gentle.

Oh, Benza, She replied, longingly, wistfully. Homura rubbed her face against mine, and I answered in kind. Her arm wrapped around my body, while her other hand slipped under my shirts and rubbed the cold palm of her hand against the bare flesh of my stomach.

I stiffened in mute surprise. Fear and shock beat together in my heart. Homura stopped.

Ebeniza? She asked nervously.

I forced myself to relax, letting out one long breath. If that is what she wants, then... I guess? I suppose it's okay? I mean, she did initiated it first, she is older than she looks, and if it helps her calm down... then I suppose I can tolerate it? For now, at least, until I get some proper answers.

Damn if it doesn't make me really uncomfortable, though. And opens up a lot of uncomfortable questions about my... alternative selves.

Well, more than her kissing me out in the open, and... Oh, God, what the fuck, Alternative Me?!

I shoved that thought away before my imagination can run wild and scar me for life. I squeezed Homura closer to me and rubbed her head with my face. It's okay, Homura. I answered.

Oh, Benza, Homura whispered to me. She rubbed her head back against my face, while her cold hand explored and danced over my warm and bare flesh underneath my shirts. I shivered as her fingers followed the curvature of my surgical scar on my chest, tracing the valley left behind by my surgery, so long, long ago. I swallowed thickly.

We are so much alike, you and I. Homura said to me softly, with a gentle wonder in her voice, as her fingers slid up my chest under my shirts, tracing the scar tissue that followed my sternum. If only...

I shifted my head towards Homura, a question on the tip of my tongue.

Purple eyes met me, sparkling with amusement, while her lips stretched out in a smug smirk. Oh, please, She told me. Don't tell me you've already forgotten about my past.

I blinked at her for a second, confused. And then it hit me.

Oh. Oh. Homura had a heart disease, didn't she? But then, why would...?

Oh, right. I am a liver cancer survivor. So, both of us had a medical condition that had an impact on our social life, and both of us were shy and lonely as kids.

But while I came from a loving family who was there to support me, Homura... considering what I know about the toxic work culture in Japan, and the simple fact that Homura became so fanatically loyal to Madoka... I am going to go ahead and assume that Homura is an only child who was neglected by her parents. And she latched onto Madoka so badly, because it was the first time she had ever received any positive attention from anyone.

Then she discovered that magical girls are real when Madoka saved her, which made her admiration of Madoka even worse. And then Madoka died. And Homura became trapped inside this prison of time in order to save her first and only love. While I... well, I did not have that problem.

But I... I just don't see how Homura could possibly empathize with me. Despite our superficial similarities, our lives are just too different. Homura is a hardened child-soldier trapped inside of a time-loop, while I'm... just a regular-ass civilian with a loving family.

Why would Homura ever fall in love with someone like me? To the point that when she see me again, she had to kiss me? That she can't keep her hands off of me, even while on the train?

I just... don't understand.

Benza? Homura suddenly said.

Her voice startled me, breaking me out of my thoughts. I jerked my head towards her. Her purple eyes stared at me with concern.

What is it? What's on your mind? She asked me.

I... I began, and then stopped. What can I say? What could I say? To this stranger who's touching me with such an uncomfortable amount of familiarity? To this young teen girl who had seen more trauma and hardship than I have? Can I complain? Can I confide to her? That what she is doing to me is making me really uncomfortable? That I want her to stop? Can I trust her to actually listen to me?

Or will she ignore me like she had ignored Madoka? And ruin my life if I try to get her to stop?

Because who would the police believe? A Japanese schoolgirl who had years worth of time to find out what to say or what to do to get exactly what she wants? Or an illegal half-Korean American gaijin male who only had one chance to get it right?

My head turned away to look at my feet. Nothing, I replied.

Her hand under my shirts stopped rubbing against my scar. And then Homura kissed me on the cheeks.

I looked at her in surprise. Her purple eyes stared back, filled with a deep and profound sadness, as she settled back inside her seat besides me.

You'll see, Benza. Homura told me. You and I are more alike than you think. Homura then laid her head over my heart, and her hand under my shirts went back to tracing the scar on my chest.

I laid my head on top of Homura, and said nothing.

I felt so damned uncomfortable for the rest of the train ride.

[HAROLD]

When we finally reached our destination, Homura hooked our arms together and walked beside me as we left the train and the metro station. We passed through the busy streets of the city, crowded with Japanese pedestrians and their ridiculous anime hair. We walked over a long bridge in a quaint little garden, while below our feet laid ponds and little lakes. We walked through a forest of Japanese cherry blossom trees, the birds singing in the air and pink petals falling down on us as we passed through.

And at the end of the forest, we stopped, and I took in the sight. Before us laid an open field full of overgrown grass. And on that field was a cathedral.

The Sakura Church.

"It's actually not called the Sakura Church, you know." Homura suddenly said.

I looked at the girl by my side, her head resting against my arm. "I'm sorry?"

"Its name," She said. "Its actual name is Saint Paul's Cathedral of Mitakihara. It used to be a part of the Anglican Church, before Kyouko-chan's father separated from it and took the cathedral with him."

I turned back to look at the cathedral, humming thoughtfully to myself. Huh. That's actually kinda interesting.

Homura tugged on my arm, a small smile on her face. She inclined her head towards the abandoned church. "Shall we?"

...Do I even have a choice? A treacherous little voice whispered inside of me. But I did not say anything, and I nodded my head instead.

And together, we crossed the empty field and entered the abandoned House of God, and I took my first serious look of the cathedral's interior.

It was gorgeous.

At the very far end of the cathedral was an altar on a grand dias, separated by a long and abnormal number of steps that lead up to the altar, and littered by debris. Flanking to the sides and behind the altar stood several absolutely beautiful and broken stained-glass windows that towered over the raised altar. Rows upon rows of pews sat empty and lifeless, facing the altar, while to the sides was a parade of broken stained-glass walls that followed down the nave up to the dias. Soft, tranquil sunlight streamed through the broken windows and walls, illuminating the scenery in a midday radiance. There was a sort of quiet and tragic beauty to the abandoned cathedral, an air of forbidding sacredness to it all that still clings to it, an aura of hallowed, if diminished, glory that still demanded proper reverence to the Divine, even in this ruined House of God.

Beautiful.

Homura suddenly paused. I stopped as well, and we shared a look. I don't know what she saw in that moment, but Homura unwrapped her arm from mine and took a step back, giving me a slight nod, as if giving me permission. Permission that I never thought I had to ask for. My eyes were drawn to her cross of amethysts, gently swaying from around her neck.

...I have my suspicions. But I appreciated the gesture.

I nodded back, and I genuflected to the altar, my fingers touching my forehead, chest, and shoulders in the Sign of the Cross. I felt a gentle comfort in that familiar rite, and I cherished that feeling amidst the confusion and stress I had found myself in ever since I woke up to Mami's face.

I rose back to my feet and nodded my head to Homura. She took a step back to me and recaptured my arm, and she immediately pulled me away to one of the side entrance along a stone wall. It opened up to a spiral staircase made out of solid stone that went down to a pit of pitch black darkness, and space was so tight that only one person can go down at a time comfortably.

Homura went under my arm and pressed her body against my side, her head resting on my shoulders, and her left hand was wrapped around my waist. Her right hand went up in front of us, a silver ring with a brilliant amethyst - her Soul Gem - on her ring finger, and bright purple light burst forward from her Soul Gem, banishing away the darkness and lighting up the staircase like a brilliant torch.

Shock filled my mind.

I stared, slack-jawed, at the purple Soul Gem that burned like a brilliant star on her ring finger. And I turned to look at the girl with raven hair and a black hairband leaning against me. Pure delight danced in her purple eyes, and a soft smile graced her lips. And Akemi Homura giggled. Her right hand, that had her soul burning with the light of her magic on her finger, pulled back to caress my cheeks, and she raised her lips to kiss me. Again.

A pulse of warmth touched my lips and spread out to fill my bones, down to the marrow.

And something inside of me finally snapped.

Maybe it's because of Mami. Maybe it's because of this beautiful young girl before who can't help but touch me and kiss me and rile me up while I have no idea on how to properly respond to her. Maybe it's because of this confusing storm of emotions and stress I'm trying to keep trapped inside my chest with no proper outlet. Or maybe it's all of them together. I don't know.

All I do know is that I'm suddenly sick of this. I'm sick of being constantly stuck inside this state of blind confusion, of having to balance on a tightrope in the dark with only the memory of a fictional story to help guide me. I'm sick of being led around by little girls and then having them throw themselves on me, while my instincts and my morals screamed at me in silent terror.

I'm sick of being blind. I'm sick of being lost. I'm sick of having to gather up the pieces of this bullshit puzzle and slowly put them back together all by myself, only for someone to come along and kick the board over, leaving me to scramble over the pieces all over again, now blind, and lost, and filled with a deep sense of bitter, burning rage. I'm sick of trying to do the right thing, when there's this girl before me who never thought to ask for my consent before she kissed me in public!

If I don't get a choice in this matter anyways, then is it wrong for me to enjoy this moment, while it lasts?

My hands came up and grasped Homura by her shoulders, and I pushed her back up against the stone wall of the staircase as I deepened our kiss. My lips caught on fire once more. For a split second, I saw her bright purple eyes widened with surprise, before she closed them as she moaned against my lips. Her arms wrapped themselves around my waist, and she pulled me to her until I was pressed up against her body. My hands flowed down over her clothed skin from her shoulders and down her sides, my palms enjoying the feel and shape of her body, even in this clothed form, before they finally settled down on her hips. Homura slipped her hands under my shirts and rubbed her cold palms against the naked flesh of my back, sending shivers of delight up my spine. And then I closed my eyes and lost myself in the moment and the sweet, fiery cherry taste of her lips.

And for a brief and glorious moment, there was nothing else. No fear. No worry. No sense of messy and unending confusion. There was no wondering on when I would ever get to see my family again or even if I would make it out alive. Just me, this beautiful girl before me, and the sweet yet fiery taste of our lips and the feel of our clothed bodies pressed up against each other.

It was pure, simple bliss.

And then Homura ruined it.

I felt Homura stiffened under me, through my lips and under my hands. And then she recoiled away from me, ripping her lips and hands off of me like I'm the Devil himself.

I admit. That stung worse than I ever thought was possible.

She placed a hand against my chest, as if to stop me from continuing again. "Wait," Homura breathed out, almost pleadingly, "Benza, wait. Please, stop."

I pulled back a little. I raised an arm and rested my forearm above Homura's head and against the cold stone wall, and I leaned against it while I stared down at her. "Oh?" I said with a deep rumble in my voice. I placed a mocking smirk on my lips, to disguise the stinging pain I'm feeling deep inside my chest. "So you can get to tease me while I can't? That doesn't sound very fair to me, Homura."

For a few seconds, she stared at me with wide purple eyes and blushing madly, and I heard a needy whine slip from her throat. I blinked, caught off-guard by that reaction. Homura tore her face away from me, refusing to even look at me, and she bit down on her lips so hard that her teeth drew blood.

And I was suddenly struck by just how young Homura looked, right at that moment. She's just a kid. She would've been an 8th Grader, back at home in America.

And I kissed her.

Horror slowly filled my soul. I suddenly realized the nature of our position - of Homura, dressed in her school uniform, with her back against the stone wall in a spiral stairway, and me, a grown man, leaning over her with a smirk on my face.

My face fell, and I felt my stomach dropped to my knees. Revulsion and despair coiled together in my guts. Oh, God, what am I doing?

I felt something inside of me cracked.

I saw Homura turning her face back to me, but I couldn't bare to look at her in the eye anymore. The guilt and shame flooding inside of me was just too much, too great. I looked away from Homura, and I pushed off the stone wall away from her and took a step back to the doorway.

Or tried to, anyways. Homura caught my wrists before I could make my escape.

"...Homura, can you please let go of me?" I asked, my eyes staring off to the sides and away from her. My voice came out soft and defeated, so unlike the deep guttural growl filled with false bravado I had just a few seconds ago.

"Wait, Benza, look at me," Homura said to me instead, pleadingly.

Shame and self-loathing engulfed me when I heard her little nickname for me, and I desperately scrambled for a way for her to let me go. "Miss Akemi-" I tried again.

"Ebeniza!" Homura cried out to me, and I flinched at the pure grief and anguish in her voice. I looked back at her.

That was a mistake.

Homura's bright purple eyes stared back at me, filled with so much pain and misery. "Don't go," she whispered to me, "Please, don't leave me alone again." Her cross of amethysts twinkled with an inner light from around her neck, as if it was mocking me.

Something inside of me splintered at her words. I... what do I even say to that? A part of me, the part of me that feels her pain and understands what, exactly, she went through, wanted nothing more than to rush back over to her and comfort her again, to take away all of her sorrows, her anguish, and her loneliness. But another part of me, that understands exactly what she wants and knows where it will end, balked at taking that final step. That part of me screamed out that I was not raised to be like this, that nothing could possibly justify me taking advantage of a young girl's broken soul. Even if she begged me for it. Even if she screamed out for it.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to rage at the unfairness of it all, but I can't. I can't. Homura might kill me if I do. Tears filled my eyes, as I felt myself breaking and falling apart, torn between my compassion and my duty, while being crushed under the weight of the injustice of it all.

"That's not fair, Homura," I whispered, my voice quivering, "This isn't fair."

Slowly, one of her hands let go of my wrist, and Homura raised it to caress my cheeks, her thumb wiping away the tears in my eye. I closed my eyes, and I trembled under her touch. A part of me was thrilled by it, by the heat of her hand on my face, and of the comfort it promised. It yearned to be wanted, to be loved, and to be comforted by one of the most beautiful and dangerous girls I know, to be found worthy by her and be adored.

But another part of me despised it utterly, for having fallen so low that I need the touch of a little girl to make myself feel better.

And so I stood there, trembling, helplessly, while a little girl younger than me, braver than me, and far more broken than me tenderly touched my face, loving every moment of her warmth and hating myself for it.

"I'm sorry," Homura whispered to me.

I opened my eyes again. Homura's bright purple eyes stared back at me, filled with a deep and profound sorrow and regret, her face and her cross lit up by the bright purple light of her Soul Gem.

"I know this is a huge burden to drop on you so suddenly." She told me softly, her purple eyes welling up with tears. "And I know I shouldn't have teased you when you are still so lost and confused. And I'm sorry."

Her other hand let go of my wrist and went up to brush my hair aside, before settling down to caress my other cheeks. "But it hurts," She said, anguish in her voice. "It hurts to see you like this. It hurts to see you look at me with eyes so full of fear and terror. And so I sought to comfort you in the only way I know how."

Tears fell down her cheeks like rivers of pearls. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not perfect, Benza." Homura whispered to me. "But I miss you, so, so much. Can you forgive me?"

I stared at Homura incomprehensibly for a few moments, dread filling up my guts. What do I do? What should I do? Do I accept her, or do I reject her? Which is the right choice?

I am terrified of accepting her, because already I can see where that path will end, and all of my soul and my morals recoil away from it in horror and disgust. But if I reject her, I fear that it will utterly shatter a girl that is already barely hanging on by a thread.

What is the right thing to do?! What would Jesus do?!

I... I don't know.

I really don't know.

All I do know is that there is a girl in front of me, and she is begging me to take away her pain and her cross.

And I... I can't find it in me to say no.

Slowly, my hand rose up to settle over her hand on my cheeks. And I closed my eyes and allowed myself to lean into the palm of her hand and bask in the her warmth. I heard Homura let out a tiny little gasp full of excitement, and I felt my lips quirked in a tiny amused grin. And I opened my eyes, still wet with unshed tears, and gave Homura a gentle smile.

"I forgive you." I whispered to her.

So many emotions flowed through her face, with those three simple words. Joy. Sorrow. Overwhelming relief, as well as regret. It was both mesmerizing and heartbreaking to watch at the same time. Homura bolted to me, wrapping me in the tightest hug I have ever felt, laid her head on top of my chest, and bawled her eyes out.

Slowly, gently, I wrapped my arms around Homura, with a hand gently stroking her long, silken, raven hair and my lips whispering comforting nonsense in her ears, and I allowed Homura time to finally grieve for the man I once was, and still yet could be.

God. This is so fucked up.

A/N: Alternate Title: Time-Traveling Japanese Cougar Molests Innocent Catholic Shota on the Train and at the Church.

Okay, so, originally, this Chapter was supposed to be even longer, with another 10K words to go. However, it's been nearly 3 months since I finished writing Chapter II, and I am still nowhere near close to completion. Since I have literally zero idea of when I would ever get that done, I decided to just go ahead and post what I have. Hope you guys enjoy this. Trying to figure out how Homura's personality might have changed by having a loyal companion with her over the timeloops was a bitch for me to figure out. Hopefully I don't have to do a massive rewrite this time. Again.

Peace.