Chapter 22

Branches along the razor's edge

"Sh-sh-she's g-gone!" Madoka bawled, her tiny shoulders heaving as she sobbed into her mother's lap. Mrs. Kaname laid a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder, waiting patiently. She'd had discussions with Madoka-in-tears many, many times and knew what to expect. Although, this time had her... concerned. Sayaka had been a dear friend... I wonder what happened...

The weeping continued, the woman using her free hand to hook some errant, shoulder-length purple hair behind an ear. Staring out the window, she thought long and hard about the vicissitudes of life.

Stroking her daughters head with her immaculately manicured fingers, Junko thought about where to begin. "It was my senior year... way back in the 20th century..." The purple-haired woman had always had a talent for storytelling; it had helped make many a lie covering up her youthful indiscretions believable to her conservative parents, and aided immensely in her work life, as constructing a compelling narrative was the key to hooking in big deals and even bigger bonuses.

She told Madoka a story, semi-autobiographical, with plenty of liberties taken... but a story about love. Soon, just as she knew would happen, the pinkette pulled away, rubbing the tears from her face. Madoka had always been enraptured by a good story... if she could keep her mind off of things for a bit.

The details weren't important, and were exaggerated or completely fabricated when necessary. It was a sad story, a story of loss and pain, "coincidentally" about a parting of ways with a close friend... but it was the end that was important. In the end, Junko met the love of her senior year-a classmate by the name of... well, she'd never revealed that bit to Madoka, causing her to spend many an hour pondering: was she making it up, or is it a name I'd recognize?

Madoka, her pain temporarily forgotten, had heard her mother talk of this before-usually after she'd been into her wine. Her "yuri" summer... the pinkette was always fascinated about her mother's unorthodox acts of daring and passion, but also uncomfortable at the thought of her mother with anyone else besides her father. Not that she ever thought of them as together! Just... mom and dad.

If Mrs. Kaname noticed her daughters unease with her stories, she showed no sign or concern. It was the lesson that they taught which mattered, not the details. "Sometimes, the loss of one friend is what the universe requires, to let another friendship develop."

It didn't make Madoka's loss any easier to bear. But it would give her something to think about, something to hope for.

There was a knock at the door.

Madoka lay on her bed, surrounded by plush stuffed animals. Her head was resting on what appeared to be a gigantic banana; she'd been staring at the ceiling with red-rimmed eyes. She blinked at the tentative knock, but waited.

Again, the knocking. This time more insistently. Rude, Madoka thought as she slowly sat up. It felt like moving through syrup. Everything seemed so hard to do, now. Finally, sitting cross-legged, she lost the struggle within herself to refuse entry and be equally rude, and called out "Come in." She felt a little disappointed with herself.

The door opened. Long, flowing black hair framed Akemi Homura's lilac eyes, eyes that gazed at the pinkette with a kind of wounded hope, or fearful happiness, or something equally as incomprehensible to the kind-hearted girl. Madoka was feeling so... confused right now. So mixed up. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be!

Homura felt very, very nervous. She was having a hard time determining a course of action with Kaname Junko standing behind her, just outside the room. Madoka's mother's gaze, watching her... made her skin itch. I have nothing to be ashamed of. Walking through the doorway, she glanced back, receiving an exaggerated wink for her trouble. Madoka heard her mother say something quietly, only catching the last part "-what we talked about." The the purple haired woman, still in her fashionable and ridiculously expensive power suit, gave her daughter a sparkling white grin, which was returned half-heartedly.

"I'll just leave you two girls alone," Mrs. Kaname said, closing the door. "Shout if you need anything!"

Homura stood, head down, blushing, for once looking actually ashamed. Madoka stared. The moments became a minute. Two.

Finally, Madoka had had enough. "Well? Do you want something, Akemi-san?"

The pinkette's tone of voice, harsh and cutting, visibly wounded the purple-eyed girl standing by the door. Homura took a deep breath, opening her mouth without knowing what was about to come out. Se-... Junko... she'd better have...

Madoka watched the flustered transfer student, blushing and standing there with her mouth open like a fish... and couldn't help feeling the tiniest twinge of pity for the girl. NO! she thought furiously, her inner admonishment playing out on her face with knitted eyebrows and a sneer, almost a snarl, of denial.

Homura almost froze, seeing the look on her... on the girl's face. She'd never seen anything so... vicious on Madoka before. It was... kind of scary. Fingering her ring, as she often did when tempted to StopTime and get the hell away from whatever situation was currently plaguing her... a habit she'd tried to break for a long time now. She was losing focus, losing courage.

I should just leave, she thought, defeated. I should get the hell out of here, wait until Walpurgisnacht and try it again. All over again. The thought made her feel very, very tired. It made her feel old. I'll just go, find someplace to hole up and wait it out. I could use a break from all of this...

But even without the little voice inside her protesting her each and every thought, she knew that she was lying to herself. She had only one reason to live, one reason to exist... a flitting thought passing through her mind did nothing to deter the steadfastness of her determination to protect her one true partner, spend whatever time she could with her, love her and cherish her the way she deserved.

Even now? something within her asked. After what happened?

Ignoring the renegade thoughts with long-suffering practice, Homura focused on her goal. Madoka watched, someone taken aback, as the girl's expression changed from hurt discomfort to the cold, composed and emotionless visage she associated with the transfer student.

A calm draped over Homura's tumultuous thoughts as she once again confronted a branching point. It was her term for the critical junctures that she'd encounter each timeline, times when the results of words or actions played an important part in the final outcome... even if none of them had been the right end, some had worse than others.

"Kaname Madoka, I apologize for what I said to you last evening. It was said in haste, and... I let emotion cloud my reason. You are none of the things I said, and I am shamed to have said them, doubly so because they were only intended to hurt." Homura watched the pinkette's reaction carefully, nervous but trying to hide it.

What is this girl's deal? Madoka thought to herself. Last night the transfer student had been an enraged maniac, hurling accusations and blame about things she had no idea about. She'd been honestly worried, for the first time, that Homura was deranged. She had certainly seemed dangerous last night. Madoka held on to that feeling, that there was something wrong with this girl standing awkwardly in her bedroom.

"You... I don't even know where to begin. You jump out of nowhere, screaming all sorts of crazy things at me..." she noticed, with discomfort, that Homura's eyes had twitched...narrowed, at the mention of "crazy." Sensitive about it... not a good sign. "You stand there hurling your garbage at my face... Look, I'm sorry if I disappointed you-" She paused, shaking her pink pigtails. "No. To be honest, I don't care what you think. I am my own person, Akemi-san, and I've had enough of you trying to boss me around, or scare me away..."

"I wouldn't-"

Madoka talked right over her. Right over her! Homura died a little bit on the inside, realizing that even with Junko's... advice, her cause had already been lost. "I get to decide what I do, Akemi-san. Me. Kaname Madoka! So either get out of my life, or get out of my way and stop holding me back!"

Homura weathered the tirade with disquiet, not able to get a word in edgewise. That adorable girl sitting on the bed in front of her, cross legged, little toes clenched with anger... Homura thought of all the good times she had shared with the pinkette, how she had been inspired to come out of her shell, how Madoka's care and confidence had inspired her to become the person she wanted to be... Now, she felt like she'd become a monster. Homura began to cry.

"I'm s-s-sorry! I'm s-so s-s-sorry!" Madoka watched the shining black hair fan out in an arc as the transfer student fell to her hands and knees. Her heart felt a stab-a sharp stab-of pity for the purple-eyed girl, but she crushed those feelings with an iron fist that clenched around her weaker, softer emotions.

"You should be sorry! All that time you were yelling at me, and you never told me where Sayaka was, not until I asked! We could have tried... something. We could have helped her!"

Homura tried to compose herself. Between hiccuping sobs, she tried again to set the record straight. "I... I was... upset." Pink eyes rolled. "I... I'll explain. Let me, please, explain myself to you, Madoka." The pinkette was taken aback by the abject pleading in the transfer student's voice. Her heart was aching with empathy for the misery the other girl suffered.

But somewhere, deep down, Madoka liked that feeling. Even though it caused her pain, the way the words seem to physically sting the other girl was like some kind of balm for her wounded, vengeful spirit.

Madoka was in a tough place at the moment. "I'm about fed up with you, Hom-... Akemi-san. I sold my soul... my soul! I wanted to help my friend, help protect people from the dangers that were out there. In the end, I know Mami-san was right. There is a reason we are here, a destiny we have to fulfill as Magical Girls.

"Shut up!" the pinkette shouted pre-emptively, as she noticed Homura opening her fat, stupid mouth. "I'm not done! You... you don't even mention the fact that the person I'm looking for... my b-best friend... is-" The pain was too great, the loss overwhelming. The world had turned completely surreal. Hold on to the hate, the darkness inside her was saying. She focused on her feelings at the moment she'd been told the night before:

"Ah, I meant to mention it before, Madoka. It's pointless to continue looking, I saw the barrier vanish. Neither Miki-san or Sakura-san emerged."

"Wha... what does th-that m-mean?" Madoka had asked, icy fear gripping her stomach.

"They are dead. I am sorry, Madoka. I know Miki-san was your friend. She died... nobly, and must have defeated the Witch since I saw the barrier collapse. This is the reason I was upset, do you see what awaits you now than... Madoka?"

SLAP! The stinging burn Madoka felt across her palm even through the elegant gloves was remarkably satisfying, and she wished ten times as much pain upon Homura as she felt. A hundred!

"Y-you BITCH!" she'd screamed, the sound echoing off the walls of the alley, seeming to cut into the night. She raised her hand again. Homura backed away, shocked.

Shaking her thoughts back into the present, her pigtails going along for the ride, Madoka stared at the transfer student accusingly. "You... all that time, I was searching for my friend, something you seem to know nothing about, and you watched them die. You basically sat back and watched them die. I wish it had been you instead of Sayaka, Homura. If I had a wish, that's what I'd ask." She felt bad even as the words left her mouth, but something dark inside giggled with satisfaction.

Homura felt like shit. Like a failure. She'd once again messed things up. Hopelessly. This seemed to be going worse than any of the other tries she'd attempted. Her friend, her love, her everything... hated her. Wanted her dead. Can't get much worse than this, she thought. Unless she found out...

Madoka looked at her expectantly. "Well? Are you going to let me get away with that, Akemi-san? Or are you going to sit there, wallowing pathetically in you're own misery? Are you going to even try to explain yourself? You stupid... ass!"

Homura didn't attempt to remind the girl she'd already asked for the chance to explain, twice. "If you'll listen, I'll... try to explain. Myself. Everything. But... p-please, don't call me th-those hurtful n-names, please! I can't bear it, not from you..." It was like life before, an outcast, a pariah... mocked and ridiculed. She couldn't stand it, not from the one person who had seen more in her. Who had believed in her.

Once again, Madoka was struck by a sense that she didn't have the full picture of who, or what, Akemi Homura was. Always, there was this vague sense of knowing the girl, the way the purple-eyed transfer student understood her or guess what she was thinking could be downright freaky sometimes.

Most of the poison had been let out, easing her conscience. But some writhing nest of serpents from deep within Madoka couldn't help doing the opposite of what the girl asked, just to prove her displeasure.

"I can say whatever I want, Homura! So shut your shitty, stupid fucking dumbass mouth for once you dumb... shithead. Idiotic... damn... fool." She finished, lamely. Then, voice breaking, "Balls."

Homura stared, dazed. Had she just heard... had Madoka said...

She giggled, the overwhelming, crushing sense of fatalistic surrender seeping out of her, expelled with the laughter that forced its way up her throat, the unfamiliar act uncontrollable and somewhat alarming. That absurd momentary feeling of panic at laughing made Homura's hysterics even worse. She looked over through tear-blurred eyes, not caring anymore about... anything. She'd probably have to do it all over again, why bother getting worked up about it? She continued laughing, and noticed with amazement that Madoka had lost the pouting, angry face and was giggling as well, red-faced.

After a few minutes, Madoka wiped her eyes, breathing slowly coming under control. Homura continued to laugh.

A minute later, the pinkette started getting concerned. "Uh... Homera-chan?" she asked, unthinkingly slipping back to her older, closer name for the girl.

It was those words that brought Homura back. But... it's all so ridiculous... do it over and over until you get it right but it never is right so you keep going and going, the harder you try the worse it gets... Laughing about Mami's death, about Kyoko's, Sayaka's... it had happened so many times, so many ways. How was she surprised or horrified by anything after what she'd seen?

She took a deep breath, then another. Pink eyes regarded her frankly, the moment slipping away. Homura gathered herself, took in a great shuddering breath.

"Madoka, I have a confession to make..."

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