The cups of coffee on the table had already grown cold by the time Homura found the courage to open her mouth again, after all she had explained, but it was Madoka who spoke first, her voice a murmur only slightly louder than the sound of Kyouko crunching a handful of bland biscuits.

"This all… This all is so…" she began, but did not finish, and grew quiet again as she sunk into a corner of the couch.

Madoka avoided Homura's gaze, looking only at her own feet. She seemed deep in thought, but the silence was smothering, agonizing, and the longer it lasted, the more pitiful she looked. Sometimes she tried to lift her head, about to speak again, but her body was shaking and she panted, about to cry.

"I understand it might be difficult to believe," Homura said, knowing that if she were not to bring an end to the silence, no one would. To her surprise, Madoka was quick to respond.

"I do believe you," she said, and her words came as a great relief. Her deep sadness, however, did not. "I don't think you're a liar. I wish I did. I… I wish I didn't believe you. Because then I would not have to face all this. Not now."

Homura's first instinct was to hold Madoka's hand, to pull her next to her, to guard her in a warm embrace, to tell her that she would be there for her, always, that she was not alone, even when she felt that sorrow would drown her. But this Madoka was not her friend; this was not the Madoka she had loved, the one she had sacrificed her own future for. Homura felt she had no right to say anything to her. Something made her feel ashamed to even be there, and, without even thinking, she reached for her shield, for her escape. It would be so easy, she thought. She could just run away from this and not have to face Madoka. Only when she looked to her side and met Kyouko's stare did she clear her mind and decide to stay.

"So Sayaka was doomed from the beginning," Madoka said, and her words carried the hollow hope of someone who was praying to hear a no.

"Yes."

The answer hurt Madoka most of all, who hid her face in her hands, but Kyouko's eyes welled up, too. Even Homura felt discomfort stir within her, and found it hard to stay still.

"Do I want to ask why?" Said Madoka, her face all red. "Do I want to know more?"

"I will not deny you any answers, should you ask," said Homura, "but they will hurt you."

"Ah," Madoka's fingers clutched at her own skirt. "I… I don't think I can bear that right now. Can we… Can we talk about this another time?"

Homura nodded instinctively, but then remembered her plan to leave Mitakihara and never return. Kyouko tugged at her arm, too, as if to remind her of that, urging her to be honest.

"I'm sorry," Homura said. "I don't think there will be another time for us to talk. When all is over and Walpurgisnacht is vanquished, I will leave this city. I have cleansed it of all witches and familiars, so there'll be no reason for a magical girl to protect Mitakihara. No reason for you to sacrifice yourself."

"Leaving?" Madoka's voice was jarringly loud, and her eyes stopped drifting around the room. "Why?"

Why? Because I'm scared of being here. Running away is the only thing that doesn't terrify me.

"Because I must," she answered, but the words came out empty, dishonest, and they did not convince Madoka. "I can't stay here."

"Why?" She asked again, and Homura did not know what to say. The truth hurt her too much, and it would not do her any good.

"It's best if I don't," said Homura, but despite all the certainty she had felt until then, now all she had were doubts. She felt like a damned fool with each word she spoke. "You won't want me here. Not after everything. I know that things will be difficult and-"

"Is that really it?" Madoka's voice dripped with disappointment. She sat perfectly still for a minute, her eyes on the floor again. And then she looked up, straight into Homura's eyes. "I don't want you to go away."

"I…" Homura didn't expect that to be her answer. She had a vague idea of how she wanted this conversation to go, and had begun to grow used to the idea of departing, of cutting Madoka from her life, if all went well, but suddenly the notion became unbearable again. "I don't want to go away either."

"Then why? Then why are you going?"

"Because… Because…" It was strange. Until she had come to Madoka's house, Homura knew all the words she should say to answer that. She had feared many things that might happen there, but Homura had absolutely not expected that, when asked to explain herself, she would suddenly feel as if the idea of running away was stupid from the beginning. "I don't know," she got up, as she couldn't stand still anymore. "I guess I thought you would despise me. I thought that perhaps you would hate me for not saving Sayaka. For never saving you, for that matter," she had to spit out the words, knowing that if she hesitated for a moment, she would falter, she would flee.

"Why would I hate you for that?" Madoka jumped to her feet, and gingerly stepped towards Homura, extending a hand towards her, meekly.

Homura swallowed, and found that her throat hurt. She looked to Kyouko at her side, and her eyes urged her to be strong. If anything in the world could ever stop Homura from being weak, she learned in that exact moment, it was Kyouko's smile. She breathed deeply, and looked at Madoka in the eyes.

"Because I hate myself for that. I suppose I just expect everyone to hate me for it, too, just as I think everyone would want me to die if they found out."

"I don't hate you," Madoka said, her arms suddenly around Homura. It was a flimsy hug, and it made clear that Madoka did not love her, but if it meant that there was even a small chance of the two being friends again, then Homura wished for nothing more. "I don't want anything bad to happen to you. Why would I wish something that horrible upon you? Sayaka's gone, and so is Mami… Hitomi hasn't been taking things well, either. Why would I want to lose even more people who are important to me?"

"Madoka… I-"

"I'm sorry I can't care about you as you care about me. I really, really am. I wish I could understand the depths of your feelings. I don't think I ever will, but even so, you are important to me. You've been protecting me and everyone, haven't you?"

Not as diligently as I did, once.

"I've tried," she said. That felt honest enough.

"Things are terrible. The past weeks have been filled with pain, more pain than I ever thought I could endure, even though somehow I did. There's not a way to undo that harm, not without you condemning yourself… So I won't ask that from you. Though I want to," her voice was agonized. "I won't. The only thing I'll ask is for you to stay. Both of you," she looked towards Kyouko. "Don't go. We may not have understood each other all the time, but, if nothing else, we've suffered through the same horror. You've worked so hard to help Sayaka, and Mami before her," her eyes were on Homura again. "I know it was my fault that you had to relive this month again and again," she said, "even though it was a different me. This is so confusing," she made a sound that was almost like laughter, but her eyes welled up. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what's right, if there's even something that's right. I only know that I want you to stay. If you go away, then I'll be alone. I'll be lost."

"We- I won't go," Homura blurted out, feeling, somehow, simultaneously light yet so tired that she could collapse. "Kyouko," she extended her hand, and helped her up as well, "are you staying too?"

She just nodded. She attempted to smile, but could not, and it did not surprise Homura. This was not a time for smiles. Despite the relief of not having to run away, this did not feel like triumph. No, the agony shared between the three girls in the room was far too great for that.

But it felt to Homura that somehow, for the first time in forever, they could, together, help each other hurt less. That was the best that they could do, and though it was probably little, to Homura it was more than she had ever thought attainable.

They had few words to offer to one another after that. No one felt in the mood to make small talk, and after a minute of uncomfortable silence where Homura forced herself to drink her cold, bland coffee, she and Kyouko awkwardly bid goodbye to Madoka, and promised they would see each other soon. It was a promise that, Homura knew, she could not guarantee would not be broken, but if it was, then neither Madoka nor Kyouko would ever know. Homura would just swim against time's tide again, and this moment would be washed away, and all others as well, meaningless in the end.

Madoka showed them the way to the door, and gave them a meek wave of her hand as a goodbye. Homura watched the door close, and found that this was not nearly as conclusive as she had hoped. She could not tell exactly how she felt about it all. Nothing had been mended and nothing had been broken. Whatever happened now, Homura would have to wait to see, should the future come.

Should the future come…

As Homura walked away alongside Kyouko, she found herself surprisingly relaxed, almost numb. It was only when she had put some distance between her and Madoka's house that the reality struck her and she froze right in the middle of crossing a street. She was only vaguely aware of the screams of horns honking and the feeling of Kyouko dragging her to the sidewalk, as instead her mind was bursting with a decade of accumulated thoughts, surfacing now, all at once.

This was the furthest she had ever gotten. Homura could not recall a moment where she had ever felt, as she did now, like there was a way out of her labyrinth. Madoka had not looked at her as a friend in so long, just as it had been a lifetime since Homura and Kyouko were this close. No, she thought. This is closer than we had ever been. She freed herself from her thoughts, and saw Kyouko's eyes fixed upon Homura's, trying to make sense of what she might be thinking.

Homura felt tears streak her face before she could even think to hold them back. It was a hideous weeping, whole years of restrained feelings that flooded out in thick, warm tears. Homura's face became an ugly red, and she struggled to keep her eyes open, but even when they were, the world was blurry, with only the scarlet of Kyouko's head distinctive enough for her to make sense of. All else melded together. She tried to tell Kyouko what she felt, but no words came out even though she moved her lips. She choked on them, felt them clog her throat. When she forced her words through, they came out a long, hideous groan.

Kyouko let her cry. She coiled an arm around Homura, bringing her close, their faces nearly touching. From up close Homura could make out Kyouko's serene eyes, and though they did little to end her wailing, her heartbeats tempered, and she could breathe easy again. Rough fingers stroked her cheek, then her hair, and Homura returned Kyouko's embrace with both hands, clutching at her dress with a strong grip and a fear of letting go. Kyouko didn't resist, still smiling warmly.

For once Homura lost track of time, and when she finally stopped crying, still holding tight to Kyouko, her first impulse was to let go, embarrassed by her weakness, but she felt too comfortable, so close to Kyouko, and stayed there for a little longer.

"I'm sorry." She wasn't, but said so anyways.

"You've done nothing wrong. How are you feeling?"

"I don't know the word for it," Homura answered. "Maybe it's relief. More than that. I feel like… I feel like tomorrow will come."

"I don't entirely understand," Kyouko smirked, "but I'm glad for you. If you feel hopeful, then so do I."

"Any hope I might feel I owe to you," Homura said. Kyouko shook her head, tried to shrug it off, but her content smile made her feelings all too clear.

Soon enough, Homura had regained her cool, and could keep her feelings at bay. She had not won yet, she could not forget that. She hoped for tomorrow like she hadn't in a long time, and finally saw a path towards it, but had not gotten there yet. Walpurgisnacht could still put an end to all that. And then…

And then I'll be back where I started. Homura felt a chill creep through her body, and struggled to keep the dread out of her mind. There was still work to do, and those worries did her no good.

Kyouko followed Homura where she led her, but they were in no great hurry, as it was not even noon, yet. Though they had agreed to make some final preparations for the battle with Walpurgisnacht, Homura felt there was no problem in slowing down. She did not put her fear into words, and didn't need to, as Kyouko, too, understood that if they failed on the morrow, then this would be the last day they could share. It seemed only proper to make it a happy one.

Downtown Mitakihara was life and noise all over, a strange sight to Homura, who only saw it covered in night, desolate and silent. Kyouko was more used to it, and guided Homura to the places she loved the most. First they stopped at a small grocery store, and though its façade was humble, inside Homura found the prettiest fruits she had ever seen, apples the size of her fist, colored a vivid red. So this is where she gets them. There the grapes were huge, too, and Homura tried one, felt it burst in her mouth after she gingerly squeezed it with her teeth. The taste made her hope that she would be able to return with more time, later. She paid for all she and Kyouko took, though Kyouko was already with her Soul Gem aglow, readying her magic to make the owner ignore the two as they left.

Their apples didn't last long: Homura finished hers just as they reached another store, and Kyouko was at her fifth. Whenever she caught a glimpse of Homura struggling with her huge apple, picking it apart in tiny bites, she'd snicker. Homura guessed that it must be indeed a bit comical, but to her it was still difficult to laugh at such things.

They went to a candy shop, then, and the glint on Kyouko's eyes as she stared was enchanting to Homura. Kyouko's joy made her so pretty that Homura could only avert her eyes when Kyouko asked if something was wrong.

"Nothing's wrong," Homura would answer, and a minute later she'd be staring again.

Kyouko filled bags with candies and chocolates and strange sweets that Homura had seen but never tasted before. Not all of them looked appetizing, but she didn't complain. She would complain about nothing so minor today.

Her purse was quite lighter once they left, and it was still just barely midday. Kyouko shared a bag of snacks with her, and though Homura wasn't fond of the smell, at first, the taste was addicting. She had never eaten that sort of thing before. It made her remember how little she had actually lived, and made her think of how much she could look forward to, how much was at stake for her now. Even something as petty as this seemed a great deal now. She had a future again, and now Walpurgisnacht stood between her and tomorrow. She could not lose. Now, more than ever before, she could not afford to falter. She had found hopes she had thought lost, her last hopes, and she had put them all into this.

Homura was the one who guided Kyouko to a quiet restaurant, hidden beyond poorly-trafficked streets. She had been there with relatives, once, when they were in town. Going out and having fun was such a rare occasion that Homura had somehow never forgotten it. Her family probably didn't enjoy it nearly as much as she did, she reflected. She was sick and frail that day, more than usual, and she could tell that her illness soured everyone's enjoyment. Still, though it likely meant nothing to them, Homura remembered it well.

The welcome they received when they walked inside the restaurant caught Homura off-guard: she remembered the place well enough, but it had slipped her mind that it had only been two or three months since she had come with her relatives, so the waiters still remembered her, and one even remarked that she must have gotten really healthier, as she was still on a wheelchair the last time, as she often had to, when her legs could not bear the strain of movement. She must have looked quite pitiful, then, to be remembered like that. Now, however, she was told that she looked much cuter when she smiled. Just a pleasantry, most likely, but one that did Homura well, as she hadn't even realized that she was smiling when she stepped inside.

Homura and Kyouko sat together on an isolated corner, far from the few people in the restaurant, that mostly cluttered around a television that showed a match of soccer. Homura smelled a pleasant scent that made her feel quite hungry, but still she ordered modestly, only some fish, salad and rice, as well as a glass of strawberry juice that was a soft, gentle pink. Kyouko, on the other hand, would have probably ordered the entire menu if not for Homura's sharp reminder that they couldn't linger there for too long.

To eat together in silence was no great thing, though something about it struck Homura as important. This tranquility was what she wanted for her future: it was thinking of this time and time again, with Kyouko, that showed to Homura that there was something beyond the labyrinth's walls. Most of all, though, it simply made her happy, and that was a feeling she had forgotten for so long that she refused to let go again, now that it returned to her grasp.

Kyouko did not share Homura's calm. She tried not to show it, but from the way she impulsively devoured her meal it was obvious that she was troubled. Homura wished she could know what it was, but despite not understanding she still offered Kyouko her hand, and was glad to see that she took it, her fingers warm. Kyouko breathed in, then out, slowly, her eyes closed. She's trying her hardest, too. Homura wished she could help more, but, unfortunately, she didn't know what comfort she could give. That helplessness made her wince, and the rest of her meal lost its taste. She hurried to finish it.

Outside, the sun shone with a brightness so straining that it seemed almost malicious, but the clear skies meant that Walpurgisnacht would not emerge that day, at least. Homura shielded her eyes with her palm, and Kyouko imitated the gesture, but her hands were occupied with a dozen plastic bags, and offered little relief. They could not hide the distress in her face, either.

Despite the harsh sun, the winds blew cold, and Kyouko shivered, clutching at her bare legs. Homura had been the one to choose Kyouko's dress, arguing that if she chose on her own, she'd pick something absurd once again. They were the same size, more or less, so all fit Kyouko well, and Homura picked what she thought was prettiest - though she regretted the lack of color in her wardrobe. Kyouko's face was pink all the while they dressed together, but she beamed. It had been years since she last had a chance to prim herself like that, and though she'd not admit it, she had to miss it, if only a little.

Their fun was over, for the time, as now it was to Mitakihara's harbor that they were headed. It was a long way to it, but Homura knew the path well. As she started seeing the familiar streets that led to the river, the buildings all around seemed to loom over her, the paths narrowed, claustrophobic, and she felt sick to her stomach, her unease growing as she and Kyouko drew closer to the docks, where Walpurgisnacht would emerge. There were few places that Homura hated most, and her aversion was such that even being anywhere near the river made her wish to throw up, and gave her skin a sickly pallor.

This place was where her hopes were trampled again and again. Here was where she witnessed horror: here she saw Madoka, Kyouko and Mami die horrible deaths, more often than she could count. Here was where she heard them cry and scream and beg and wail as they were devoured and burned and crushed and ripped to shreds and fell into such despair that they too became witches. Here Homura helplessly watched as Walpurgisnacht brought an utter end to Mitakihara, leaving no trace of the city when she was done. Here was where Homura always failed. Here was where she witnessed the walls of her labyrinth grow taller brick by brick.

This will be the last time. When her eyes met Kyouko's gaze, she actually managed to convince herself of that. She told herself to breathe, to not let herself succumb to panic and dread.

The docks were rarely ever busy: Mitakihara was hardly a great center of commerce, given that its neighbors were much larger cities, and, worst of all, the river that connected the city to the sea was narrow, unfit for great vessels. The place was a relic of a Mitakihara that was now only part of the past. It existed because getting rid of it would be too costly, but had been left to disrepair and desolation. It was almost fortunate, then, that this was where Walpurgisnacht would emerge. No one would miss these docks, if they were destroyed; with time, the people of Mitakihara might even be thankful that such an ugly and obsolete place was gone, and could be replaced with something of value.

Homura and Kyouko stared at the waters. They were still, polluted, thick. Here and there they could see garbage floating on the surface. With the rest of the city so modern and pristine, it was unsurprising that it had chosen to forget this place.

"I have set up explosives all along the riverbed," Homura pointed once she and Kyouko were leaning on the railings that separated them from the waters. "With enough force we can sink Walpurgisnacht, then blow her to bits. In theory."

"But in practice…?"

"If I could just blow Walpurgisnacht to bits I would have done so already. My efforts have hindered her and made her vulnerable, but on my own I cannot muster the magical power to exploit those moments of weakness."

"You're not on your own, though. There's a chance, then, right?"

"Yes," Homura said, and reached into her purse to get the black case where she stored her Grief Seeds. "You'll recall that I told you we have nineteen of these. Two we'll use before Walpurgisnacht emerges, so that we can fight at our fullest. We'll have seventeen left, then, and of those you'll carry seven. I'll keep the remaining ten, as I'll need to use a great amount of magic just to ensure that Walpurgisnacht can be impaired enough for us to finish her off. Of course, you can have one of mine if the need arises."

"It won't arise," Kyouko promised. "I'll be careful."

"Good," Homura trusted that Kyouko would do just that. In the past she had been good at conserving her magic. "Also, and this is very important: we'll be on death's door when we vanquish Walpurgisnacht. We'll need to use so much power that our Soul Gems are sure to be almost entirely tainted. It is extremely important, then, that we manage to locate the Grief Seeds that Walpurgisnacht will release when she's destroyed. We'll be weak when that happens, and if the Grief Seeds fall underwater, it'll be much harder to find them. So we need to try our hardest to make sure that when we defeat her, she's not far from shore."

"I get that," Kyouko said, with hesitation. "But… One thing," she was suddenly fidgety, and put her bags on the ground.

"Yes?"

"You said that Walpurgisnacht will unleash Grief Seeds. Plural. How come?"

Homura had expected that Kyouko would not fail to notice that. She wished she knew the complete answer, but she didn't have one, only speculation.

"The thing about Walpurgisnacht is that she's a greater mystery than all the other witches. I have tried to understand her, in the past. In a past recursion of time, instead of preparing to fight her, I travelled overseas to meet with magical girls from other countries. To learn," Homura still recalled the guilt she felt during her journeys, for abandoning Mitakihara and her friends, but she figured that without knowledge, she would never be able to win anyways.

"Whoa… I hadn't expected you to have done that."

"When I figured I had all the time in the world, I thought it was worth trying a new approach. I have learned much, though a great deal of lore is contradictory. The magical girls of China have reached a conclusion about Walpurgisnacht, but it is entirely different from what the Russian ones believe. The one thing that's beyond doubt is that she's the only witch that can manifest outside of a barrier."

"Even I know that," Kyouko was disappointed.

"Yes, my journey of enlightenment was not the most productive one." Sarcasm dripped from Homura's tongue. "But it was interesting, still… In most lands the magical girls think that Walpurgisnacht is not a single witch, but many. Multiple witches who became too powerful, whose barriers grew so enormous that they overlapped and fused. And when that happened enough times, the result was the queen of the witches, as some call her. Which answers your earlier question. If Walpurgisnacht is the result of the melding of many witches, it's unsurprising that she'd release many Grief Seeds."

"That does explain it, yeah," Kyouko said. "I don't know what to believe, you know. I've heard a lot of tales about Walpurgisnacht, but you say that there are such stories all around the world, and neither is quite right… Gah, this makes me so pissed off! I hate not knowing what I'm fighting."

Homura responded with a quick nod, and though she was about to continue to explain their plan for the battle and how they'd use the nearby terrain to their advantage, Kyouko grew silent almost too suddenly. She stared into the skies, and her eyes started to quiver. Kyouko reached into one of her bags and her hand came out of it carrying a chocolate bar that she scraped pieces of with her teeth. She had the same face she had earlier today, when they ate together. For good or ill, she always wore her feelings very plainly. Homura felt like she had to do something this time.

"Kyouko? Something's troubling you. Something has been troubling you for a while, I noticed it at the restaurant. Would you like to talk?"

"I… I would like to," she said, sighing a long breath. "It's Sayaka. I'm thinking of her."

"Ah."

"Hard to keep her out of my mind when we're talking about witches…" She tried to chuckle, to pretend the mood was not so dour, but her laughter came out forced, ugly, and her grim eyes made her thoughts clear. "Sayaka could have become part of Walpurgisnacht?"

"If given time," Homura said. "I would not doubt it. There are reports of Walpurgisnacht absorbing nearby barriers when she emerges, too."

Kyouko slammed her fist on the railing, leaving her hand bruised and bleeding. She grit her teeth, and struggled to say something, as if trying to find words.

"This is our fate, isn't it? This or death."

"It doesn't have to be."

"But it was for Sayaka. I can't get over it, you know? The thought that this," she pointed at the black case and the Grief Seeds within it, "is all that remains of us. All that remains of Sayaka. That she couldn't stop it. Madoka couldn't stop it. Neither of us could stop it. It feels like… Like…"

"Like failure," Homura knew the feeling well enough. "It feels unfair."

"Unfair is an understatement. If we hadn't so quickly destroyed the witch that she became, then all the good that Sayaka had ever brought would be undone. That's what it means to be a witch, isn't it?"

"I don't believe her good would be undone," Homura said. "Though that is hardly comfort, I suppose."

"I can't bear to look at those Grief Seeds," Kyouko said, and Homura promptly closed the case. "To think that each of those was…" She looked to the side instead of finishing her sentence. "To think that we're staying alive only because of them. That we need people like Sayaka, who meet her same end, if we want to stay as we are. I feel like we're doing something horrible. Even though I never had a problem with letting familiars consume regular humans so that they could become witches, too… Ugh. I feel like I finally understand what it was that my dad meant when he talked about sins that cannot be forgiven. What happened to Sayaka can't be forgiven. The fact that we need it to happen is even worse."

Kyouko was nearly crying, then, but she seemed to force herself not to. "This is horrible. I can't think of anything as horrible as this. I've been trying not to think of it since this morning, but I can't. I can't."

"I'm sorry," was all that Homura could say. "I genuinely cannot offer you any comfort. I wish I could, but… There really is no way to make this hurt any less. If I may, however… There is one hypothesis in particular about Walpurgisnacht that I'm almost inclined to believe. Some magical girls, more traditionally religious, believe that she is divine retribution. That Walpurgisnacht is the reckoning for all that the magical girls have suffered. Punishment against a world that let them fall into despair and then devoured what remained of them when they were destroyed. Sometimes I believe that's true. Sometimes it feels true. Sometimes I wish it were true, after all I've seen. Maybe that's right. Maybe that's justice. But… It's not the justice she wanted."

"What do you mean?"

"Sometimes I feel like giving up," Homura admitted. "Even I am not strong enough to bear it all the time. But I think of Sayaka. Not of Madoka, nor you, or anyone else, for that matter. Sayaka. I've never been able to save her. I've never been able to love her, and she never loved me, either. And yet… And yet she's the one that comes to mind when I think I can't keep going. To give up would be to betray her, and I cannot bear that. And I feel like I shouldn't care so much, not when we weren't even such close friends, but I do care. If I give up, if I allow Walpurgisnacht and all witches to continue to destroy and corrupt everything that the magical girls they once were held dear, then I'm betraying them all, and betraying Sayaka most of all. And then she'd be right for hating me, all along."

"Homura…" Kyouko came closer to her, and a thought took hold of Homura at once, when she saw Kyouko just in front of her, her eyes meeting her own, her hands tentatively approaching hers. Homura could not resist.

"It's sad," Homura said. "All of this. It's the saddest thing I can think of. That we have to be the ones to live through this and not anyone else feels unfair. That we could not help Sayaka feels like a crime. But…" The words would not come out, for a moment, clustering at the tip of her tongue. Homura closed her eyes, breathed in deep, and when she looked at Kyouko again, she felt like she could speak. "But even if Sayaka is gone, we are still fighting for her. I've been fighting for her sake, too, all along. Though there was no love between us, I cannot forget her. Will not forget her. I won't forget all she taught me, either. O-One thing I learned from her," the hesitation came again. "To not smother your feelings for whatever reason. To pursue your true heart's desires, so that you won't regret not doing so. I don't mean to regret anything." She clenched her fist. "Though I don't know how to say it… I know I have to say it, now that I understand howSayaka suffered for not voicing her feelings when she had the chance."

Homura paused, staring straight into Kyouko's face, wondering if she already understood, presuming that she did. But her expression revealed nothing. She only looked at Homura, the wind blowing behind her, making a mess of her hair and her dress. Homura wished she did not have to say anything more. She did not know how to do so, she feared she would only sound like a fool. Most of all, she feared that all the progress she had made would simply disappear. All the while, Kyouko stood there, waiting.

"I don't want you to ever leave me. Please. I've come to realize how much I had missed you, and I don't think I can bear to forget again. To be alone again. Please," she stepped up to Kyouko, and tried her hardest not to weep, so that she could have some semblance of calmness. "Stay with me, Kyouko. Today and tomorrow, all tomorrows still to come, tomorrows that we'll find together. I love you, Kyouko. You. To be with you fills me with something I can't even name because I haven't felt it in so long. More than serenity, more than peace." She clutched at her heart. "So would you please… Stay with me? It doesn't have to be forever. I hate forever, though maybe I can come to love it with you. But for a while, at least…"

By the time she was finished, Homura thought she hardly made any sense, that she hadn't conveyed all she felt, but whereas she had hesitated, Kyouko did not: she practically threw herself on Homura, and put her arms around her back, squeezing, but her grip didn't hurt. It felt so right that Homura had to return it, fraily, awkwardly, but full of feeling. Homura meant to just stay like that, feeling each other's closeness, but Kyouko had bolder intentions - though ones that Homura found to be more than a bit agreeable. Her lips were all over Homura's face, and her eagerness and rush made it clear that Kyouko, too, had no experience with this. Something about that was comforting.

After that, Homura didn't know what to say. She guessed there was nothing to say, not now. Their final preparations were easy enough, only a matter of planning what moves they would make, and where. Homura figured they would need to improvise, as expecting predictability out of Walpurgisnacht was a costly mistake. But, until the next day, they were done. The rest of the afternoon and the night would be theirs to do with as they desired.

Tomorrow, Homura thought, was still unforeseeable, but, for now, Kyouko's warmth was the certainty of today. They set out, together, unsure of what to do or of where to go, but right now, that seemed just wonderful. Choosing was not something Homura had done in quite a while. Her heart was still heavy, fearful, but she needed only to look into those red eyes of Kyouko and her tiny smile, the strained grin of someone who needed a great deal of effort to be happy, and then she'd remember what it was that gave her strength.

One more day. Only one more day, and I'll be free at last.