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Clockwork and Gossamer

Chapter 1: Intervention

In dealing with labyrinths, the ultimate goal was always the same. Get in, and get out. A straightforward task, even when the same could not be said of the labyrinth itself. Especially when witches and familiars could be deviously unpredictable or unexpectedly resilient. Generally speaking, the best approach for any magical girl was to minimize risk and conserve magic where possible. Safety and efficiency above expedition.

But tonight, as with most nights, Homura Akemi had far more important things to do than put down a stray witch.

It had been only a day since her transfer into Mitakihara Middle School. Only eight since starting over. And already, the events of this timeline were progressing in the wrong direction. Despite all of her efforts, the Incubator had made contact with Madoka earlier than usual. Now she and Sayaka were once again being strung along by Mami, who was entangling them needlessly in magical girl duties and biasing them against Homura's warnings.

Which meant it was only a matter of time before things went wrong.

That was why surveilling those three took highest priority, and why she needed to defeat this witch as quickly as possible.

She almost stopped time as soon as she entered, intending to run straight to the witch's lair. But as she gathered her bearings and inspected the labyrinth around her, she noticed something important. Something that gave her pause and inclined her to carefully assess the situation before proceeding. It was mere intuition at first, her mind honing in on an otherwise trivial detail. But the more she observed, the more apparent it became, until it was no longer a suspicion but an incontrovertible fact.

Someone else was already here.

The labyrinth was riddled with telltale signs. And not the typical signs, either—the ones commonly left in a magical girl's wake. No residual magic. No obvious aftermath of a recent battle. Just abnormalities. Things that were easily overlooked. Apparent changes to an otherwise normal labyrinth.

Changes that involved the numerous, still living familiars.

First were the square-faced marionette lumberjacks—strings untethered and strewn about the ground—all of them covered head to toe in checkerboard flannel of offendingly garish color palettes. They worked in pairs and used handsaws to cut down large beanstalks. But they also wore safety glasses and bright yellow hard hats, both of which were far too real. A noticeable departure from the aesthetic of the witch's realm.

Then there were the bipedal sock puppets, with their mismatched button eyes and their mouths made of thick red yarn. They waited in line as the felled beanstalks were piled onto handcarts, and then wheeled them away. But many of the puppets wore tennis shoes—all of which were pink, for some reason—and a few were in the process of donning their own pair. Near the front of the line was a small mountain of leftover shoes. Beside it was a similar hill of protective headgear.

Opposite the beanstalk patch was a swath of finger-painted grass and a large round table made of children's building blocks. It seated a dozen bizarre interpretations of animals, with features missing or exaggerated. Each had a bowl of porridge in front of them, but there was also a stand in the center of the table holding a frosted cake, with wedges cut out and served on small plates to each of the animals. One mouse, turquoise and monocular, had already abandoned its porridge in favor of the dessert.

Everywhere she looked, there was something that didn't belong. Something almost normal in the panorama of distortions and madness. Deliberate modifications made by whichever magical girl had recently passed through.

But why modify the labyrinth at all? Why not just defeat the familiars and proceed to the witch?

And if this was all the work of a magical girl, as she suspected it was, then why couldn't Homura detect her? The only magic she felt was from the witch and her familiars, and in a labyrinth this small, that simply shouldn't be possible. Not unless the other girl was preternaturally skilled in suppressing her own magic.

Or unless she had years of experience. More years than even Mami Tomoe. But there shouldn't be anyone like that. Not in Mitakihara, at least.

None of the familiars had attacked her yet, so she reciprocated and let them be. As she continued farther along, she eventually found a six-way intersection on a dirt road where puppets pushing beanstalk carts converged, the loaded carts going out every direction, and the empty ones coming back. There were no signs or streetlights, but in the middle of the intersection stood a tall, metal contraption in the rough shape of a person. A robot, twice as tall as her, with gleaming surfaces, yellow eyes, an unmoving smile, and a single antenna atop its dome. Its pneumatic arms ended in claws that held orange traffic wands. The torso rotated independently of its legs, facing each oncoming line as it signaled the familiars. And the puppets obeyed its directions, as if it had always been there.

Just like all the other changes, the addition of the mechanical traffic guard was innocent and helpful. Shoes for the sock puppets. Helmets for the lumberjacks. Pastries for the malformed animals. And now a giant toy robot. Why did all these changes seem so . . . childish?

Maybe this magical girl wasn't a veteran at all. Maybe she actually was just a child. One whose magic was too weak to have any notable presence. And if she was offering kindness to the witch's familiars, then she probably didn't understand the first thing about labyrinths. It was even possible that she had no intention of fighting. Not the familiars who could turn violent at a moment's notice. Not even the monster waiting for her, lurking at the end of this maze. A twisted soul that would claim yet another victim, among the unknowable number it already had.

And another magical girl would disappear without a trace. Just like all others who perished inside a labyrinth. Someone's daughter would go missing, never to be found.

Unless someone did something to stop it. But right now, there was only one person who could. And as far as Homura was concerned, it simply wasn't her problem.

That's what she told herself. Magical girls died every day, and she had no connection to any of them. In principle, this one wasn't any different. There was no reason to interfere. No reason to go out of her way to save someone she had never met, just because that person was within arms' reach. Even if there was nothing stopping her. Even if it was the right thing to do.

Even if Madoka had done the same for her.

Homura bit her lip, eventually letting out a quiet sigh. The quicker she dealt with this witch, the sooner she could track down the others. That alone was her goal. Anything else was incidental.

With her mind made up, she stopped time and took off toward the labyrinth center. At the end of the trail stood a wall stretching far in both directions, tremendous but incomplete. Deposits of beanstalks littered the area, and disfigured crayon-drawn swine were scattered about. They walked upright and wore carpenters vests and were presumably engaged in the wall's construction. Most of them, however, had stopped working and were gathered in groups to play cards instead.

Homura slipped through a gap and continued on.

Beyond lay a wood with over-sized daisies and azaleas mingled among the trees, looming over her and staring down with cartoonish eyes on their petals. Here, there were no additions or alterations, as best she could tell. But had time been unfrozen, she was certain those flowers would have been watching her.

Finally, she made it to the witch's domain. On the other side of the wood, she came out to a clearing with a single large willow. There were no leaves on its hulking branches. There was no color in its trunk or its roots. And at its peak was an empty nest of barbed wire and razor blades.

The witch herself was frozen mid-flight, not far from where Homura had entered. She had the shape of a human doll, with large stitching on the clothes and curly brown string for hair spilling from underneath a red hood. But there were black and white wings where arms should have been, and the cottony human legs under the skirt ended in talons instead of toes. The face was a magpie, the beak filled with jagged teeth, complementing the saurian tail behind her.

Her towering form hovered above a colorful dome of layered and twisted, crisscrossing metal bars—a porous barrier just dense enough to impede the witch's attack and protect the person inside. It was difficult to get a clear view through the thicket of iron and the shadows it cast, but judging from the slivers of a pink costume peeking through, it was without a doubt a magical girl.

Time resumed as Homura pulled a rifle from her shield.

"—away. Leave me alone, you meanie!" shouted a voice from inside the dome. The witch flapped about, pecking and clawing at the structure relentlessly, unable to reach the girl inside. "Shoo! Shoo!"

Homura emptied the entire magazine at the witch, and the creature let out an enraged screech, turning to face her instead. She exchanged magazines and slammed back the charging handle, just before the witch abandoned her original prey and flew towards her. Then she unloaded on the witch once again in a long burst. Her attacker wasn't deterred, crossing the gap in seconds.

Stopping time for only a moment, Homura stored her rifle and pulled out a homemade pipe bomb. After priming it and tossing it into the witch's path, she jumped to safety and allowed time to continue.

The explosion covered the beast in fire and smoke, but the labyrinth didn't dissolve. The flapping of giant wings quickly cleared the haze and revealed the witch, still airborne and relatively unscathed. Large sections of the doll outfit had burned away, and Homura now saw the hard, reptilian scales that lay underneath.

Of course.

"Hey!" She took her eyes off the witch for just a moment to glance in the direction of the girl. She was still obscured, watching from inside the jungle gym. "Stay away from that thing. It's really dangerous and mean!"

She ignored the well-meaning but superfluous advice, reaching again into her shield as the witch crowed with anger and dived at her once more. She couldn't afford to waste her larger munitions yet. Not on such a weak witch. But if the witch's exterior could endure close-proximity explosions, then she would simply change strategies. She'd learned from the Sweets Witch how to deal with this kind of enemy.

She stood her ground on the approach, and waited until the very moment the witch's maw opened to snatch her up. Then she disappeared. The beak snapped shut, and Homura landed halfway across the clearing, close, but not too close, to the metal dome. The witch had just enough time to turn around before a series of explosions ripped through her.

The fight was over.

As the witch fell from the sky, Homura tallied the battle's expenditure. Forty 7.62 NATO rounds, a single pipe bomb, and more than a handful of grenades. Six had probably been overkill, but she had things she needed to be doing, and this wasn't one of them. The grand total barely made a dent in her supply, anyway.

It would need to be replaced all the same.

Once the labyrinth and witch had finally faded from existence, Homura picked up the Grief Seed and held it in her hand.

That just left her and the new magical girl, who had apparently retreated inward from the explosions. Only after a few moments did she return to peek through the holes of her shelter. A shelter which was no less out of place beside the nearby office buildings than it was in the labyrinth. It would have certainly raised questions had anyone else seen it—magical girl or not. Thankfully, it was late, and no one else was around.

The girl called out to her. "Is it gone?"

Though Homura was probably visible enough under the spill of nearby street lamps, the same could not be said of the girl in the makeshift cage. She could only discern bits of clothing through the tangled mesh.

"It's gone," she confirmed.

"Are you sure? It's not going to come back, right?"

She sounded young. That might explain why her caution seemed directed entirely at the witch and not Homura as well. "I'm certain."

There was a long pause, and Homura waited, not sure what else to say, or if she should even stick around. She was losing valuable time. But then the girl in the dome announced her decision. "I'm coming out now, okay? But you better not be lying, or I'll be really mad."

There was a sudden pop, and the entire mess of painted metal disappeared, at last confirming Homura's suspicions. This girl was surely the one responsible for all those strange additions to the labyrinth. And she could apparently summon and dispel them at will, much like Sayaka with her swords or Mami with her ribbons. But among her creations, there didn't seem to be anything resembling a weapon, nor a governing theme. Was it a blanket manifestation-type ability? A formation magic limited only by her imagination? Just what were its rules, she wondered. What were its limits?

With the enclosure gone, the girl was now plainly visible. She was short, barely measuring up to Homura's chest. And she looked as young as she sounded. Probably the youngest magical girl Homura had ever met, at least three or four years her junior. She had a bob cut of blond hair, contrasted by red eyes that almost glowed in the dim light. Her outfit—a pink dress with white frills and garniture—looked less like a magical-girl costume and more like a Victorian era ball gown. And perhaps most importantly, she was clutching her right arm, blood dyeing the fabric of the sleeve.

"You're injured."

The girl winced, suddenly reminded of the pain. "It was that dumb bird-thing."

"The witch," she clarified.

"The what?"

Homura blinked and looked her up and down, just to be sure she wasn't losing it. Had the Incubator not explained anything? "Never mind that. Can you heal yourself?"

The girl let out a short hum for an answer, and a glowing shape appeared in front of her. A crown or flower, perhaps, that shone pink like her dress and spun gently. And for the first time, Homura finally felt a sense of magic emanating from her. A magic that was bright and vast. Warm and vibrant. Like a clear summer sky. Then, in a flash of light, the wound was gone. The dress was repaired and pristine, the blood stain notably absent. The sigil disappeared as well, taking with it any trace of her magic and concealing it completely.

It was disturbing how easily the girl in front of her could pass for human. Even when transformed. Homura shelved away the distracting thought. "Good," she continued. "How is your Soul Gem?"

"My . . . Soul Gem?"

"Yes, your Soul Gem." Although, now that she looked, she didn't see any sign of the gemstone on her person. Was it hidden by her transformation?

Apparently, the girl was just as puzzled as she was. "I don't think I have one of those."

Homura was beginning to lose her patience. She wasn't sure how any magical girl could be this ignorant, no matter their age. Was it a language gap? Or was she just too recently contracted? Maybe Homura needed a different approach. Before she could decide on one, however, the other girl glanced around and looked out at the not-so-distant skyscrapers. "Hey, where are we? This doesn't look like Tokyo."

And now she had a different problem. As well as a host of questions. "That's because it isn't. It's Mitakihara."

"Where's that? Is it close to Harajuku?"

It wasn't. Tokyo's nearest districts were at least three hours away by train. Probably even longer by bus or car. "No," she answered. "Not particularly."

"Oh." The girl frowned. "Then, do you know where the train station is?"

It was a sensible question, she supposed. But it still overlooked something important. "I do. But the trains will be stopping soon. If you want to reach Tokyo, you will have to find another way or wait until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? But I can't wait that long!" she said in dismay. "I have to get home tonight, or I'll be in a lot of trouble."

Homura didn't have an answer for that. While she might be able to dodge the train conductors, neither bus nor taxi was likely to accept a passenger so young. Especially not this late at night.

The girl looked thoughtful now. "I could get there myself, but I'm not supposed to use my powers in front of people." She stopped suddenly and perked up. "Oh, you have powers too! But your clothes are really weird. Are you a magical girl like Ichijō?"

Homura took a second to parse the relevant bits from the girl's verbal stream of consciousness, though she almost raised an eyebrow at the remark towards her outfit. She had never met a magical girl by that name. But if both of them were from Tokyo, then that was to be expected. After all, she only ever went there to resupply her inventory, and even when she did, she stayed out of sight. "I am," she said plainly.

"I knew it! And you saved me from that bird, so I can tell you're a good person. Hey, will you help me?"

Now it was Homura's turn to frown. "Help you with what?" she asked.

"Can you keep my powers a secret? It's really important."

It was an easier request than Homura had anticipated. She didn't know who she was supposed to keep this secret from. Civilians? Other magical girls? Either way, Homura had no reason to oust the girl and her magic. She had no one to tell in the first place.

"I can."

"Really? You promise?"

As much as she disliked making promises, this one seemed relatively harmless. She eventually relented. "Yes, I promise."

The girl smiled from ear to ear. "I knew you were a good person. Oh, before I go! I'm Sana Kashimura. What's your name?"

She answered with a nod masquerading as a head bow, once again ignoring the entirely wrong assessment of her character. "Homura Akemi."

Kashimura repeated her name, testing it out. "Homura Akemi. Can I call you Homura?"

She wasn't prepared for such a question, especially not after having just met the girl. But she had to remind herself that she was speaking to a grade-schooler, and when she did, the question didn't seem quite so forward anymore. "I suppose."

"And you can call me Sana, too! All my friends call me that."

Homura thought to interject—there was clearly some sort of misunderstanding taking place—but ultimately she decided to let it pass. Nothing about tonight would matter in the long run.

"I have to go home now. But thanks for scaring away that mean bird. And remember not to tell anyone about my powers, okay?"

Between the immediate leap to a first-name basis and the misinterpretation of the witch's fate, Homura wasn't quite sure what to say. So instead, she simply nodded and bid farewell. "Goodbye . . ." She almost said the girl's last name, but remembering what she'd been asked, reluctantly reversed course. "Sana."

She had expected the girl to turn around and take off running. Instead, Sana just stood there with a smile and waved. "Bye Homura!"

And then, her body shimmered, and she disappeared.

Homura went instantly alert, muscles tense, hand at her shield. Looking around for any trace of her.

She wasn't sure how long she waited. But when nothing happened, she eventually relaxed and lowered her guard. Whatever magic that had been, it was different from the magic Sana had used in the labyrinth. And that's what bothered her. She had no discernible presence, yet she was undeniably a magical girl, with specialized abilities like any other.

And there was clearly more to her powers than just conjuring objects from thin air. Like how she had disappeared. Some mode of teleportation? That could explain how she had arrived in Mitakihara when she presumably lived in Tokyo. It might also explain everything she had seemingly willed into existence while in the labyrinth. Maybe her magic wasn't instantiation, but rather relocation. Transporting to her the things she needed, when she needed them. But that theory had its own problems. It failed to account for the traffic-directing robot or the conveniently protective jungle gym.

Whatever the case, the girl was an outlier. The first new face in too many timelines to count. Homura had thought that she'd determined the nature of her magic, but now she wasn't so sure. Nor did she know the reason for her being in Mitakihara in the first place. Or her fate in past timelines. Would she have escaped the labyrinth on her own? Or had this been the only time she'd survived?

Homura didn't know. She might never know. Odds were that they would never see each other again. Still, she sorted through everything she had learned in case it might one day turn useful.

Sana Kashimura. A magical girl from Harajuku. Naturally talented, but naïve and overly trusting. Recently contracted, judging from their conversation. Capable of completely suppressing her magical presence, whether intentionally or not.

And she had at least two powerful abilities. Maybe more.

Part of her wondered if those powers could aid her against Walpurgisnacht. But no, she was clearly too inexperienced. She'd struggled to even fend off the witch, much less retaliate. She would be nothing but a liability.

Homura looked at the Grief Seed she was holding. She'd planned on giving it to her, but now it was too late. Sana's fate was out of her hands. Maybe whoever this Ichijō was, maybe she would aid the young girl and delay her fall. But ultimately, the end would be the same regardless.

After all, there was no future for magical girls.

A/N: Another weird crossover, but I couldn't help myself. More to come soon.