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Clockwork and Gossamer

Chapter 3: Mended Shape

The sun was creeping just above the horizon by the time Homura finished her morning tasks. Now well into her trek home, she had two more grief seeds to fall back on, a clean gem, and lastly, hands weighed down with bags of groceries.

She hadn't realized just how barren her pantry and fridge were until the other evening. It didn't bother her eating supplement bars and little else, but she didn't know how long she'd be dealing with the magical anomaly in her home. The upside was that she'd be well stocked for Kyōko's arrival.

That said, she needed to expedite matters on the Kyōko front. Statistically speaking, the sooner she could get the redhead to Mitakihara, the better chance Mami had of . . . well, not survival, but at least living long enough to fight Walpurgisnacht. Her presence alone stoked something within Mami that Homura couldn't, leveraging her protective nature while reinforcing her already considerable battle prowess. Meanwhile, if Kyōko arrived too late and Mami wasn't there to act as an intermediary, her meddling only exacerbated conflict and made a bad situation worse. Which was why she needed to be a high priority at the moment, second only to ensuring Madoka's safety.

But that was easier said than done. Finding time to visit Kazamino was difficult, even when she didn't have a strange girl from Tokyo interfering with her schedule. Leaving Mitakihara for any length of time was a calculated risk that didn't always pan out. The best window she had was during school, when Madoka was least likely to contract, but missing class drew attention to herself and made the others more suspicious of her, undermining her warnings and sometimes even precluding future cooperation. Which, as loath as she was to admit it, might be the only way of defeating a witch of Walpurgisnacht's magnitude.

There was simply no getting around it. She needed to sort out the Sana problem as quickly as she could. Before her plans suffered further setbacks.

Mired in her thoughts, she paid little mind to her mostly unremarkable surroundings. The cars passing by on the road. The occasional glance from a passing pedestrian. The sound of a loudly crying child, bleeding through the walls of a nearby building. As she approached her house, that last one became louder. And clearer. And now that she was listening, it was a voice she recognized.

And it was coming from inside her own home.

She marched to her door, removed her key, and attempted to smother her growing vexation. She'd intended to return before Sana woke up, but she'd also left a note just in case. Could the girl really not go two hours on her own?

With a turn of the handle, she pushed the door open.

"Oh, thank God! Are you her sister?" Homura's eyes widened. Leaning over a bawling Sana was an older girl she had never met.

Inside her house. She almost transformed and withdrew a pistol on instinct.

"She won't stop crying, and I don't know what to say to her."

Homura dropped her bags and, without turning away, hurried to close the door behind her, confining Sana's wails as best she could. "How did you get in here?" she demanded. She didn't feel any magic. And no ring. The only reason Homura downgraded her threat assessment was because the girl was probably human, although even that, she wasn't sure of anymore.

"Please," she said, "you have to calm her down."

"Answer my question."

"I will! Just talk to her, please! I'm worried your neighbors might call the police soon."

A valid concern, depending on how long Sana had been like this. Homura begrudgingly approached the younger girl while keeping an eye on the intruder. Sana was nearly hyperventilating between bouts of crying, and she showed no signs of stopping. "Sana," she tried calmly. "Sana, tell me what's wrong." But the girl kept crying, not even hearing her. How was she supposed to help when she didn't know what the problem was?

No. That was wishful thinking to begin with.

Even when she knew the problem, the answer was always out of reach. Time and time again, the people around her would suffer and despair, and she was powerless to stop it. She could never ease Kyōko's guilt, or pull Mami from her loneliness, or save Sayaka from her self-destructive tendencies. And for Madoka, on multiple occasions when the tragedies became too much, she'd offered nothing but cheap assurances that inevitably crumbled away. She couldn't even properly console her best friend.

She had never been helpful to anyone. This time would be no different. But for now, she would do what she always did. The only thing she ever did.

She would try again.

Kneeling down to Sana's level, she placed a hand on her shoulder. "Sana. Listen to me."

That small touch was all it took. Sana threw herself into Homura, wrapping her arms around her. And Homura froze, too stunned to respond. Sana said her name, but it came out muddled through the tears. "She—I didn't—and you—" She cried some more, never finishing what she was trying to say.

Sana's hold on her tightened, and slowly, before she realized it, Homura's arm settled on her back, the strange embrace reminding her of something. Something hazy and far away. Another young girl, weak and sickly, sobbing into her mother's shoulder. Warm arms wrapped around her. A hushed tone and caring words.

A promise that things would get better.

It was a memory she didn't know she still had.

Homura looked up as the older girl quietly repositioned herself into her view, kneeling on the floor just a few feet away. She smiled and gave her an approving nod. Homura countered it with a frown. Someone owed her answers, and Sana was in no position to provide them. That left only the intruder.

The girl in front of her was most likely a high schooler, probably a junior or senior. Her outfit was a school uniform, but not one she recognized, with a checkered tie, navy skirt, and matching blazer. Brown hair curled down to her shoulders, framing a slender face devoid of any makeup or blemishes. Was she one of Homura's neighbors? She didn't know them particularly well, but it didn't seem likely. She surely would have seen her in at least one timeline.

Neither of them said anything while they waited for Sana to calm down. And it happened, little by little, until Homura could no longer hear the girl's crying. Just her slow, even breathing.

"I think she fell asleep."

Hearing this, Homura looked at the girl pressed against her. Arms wrapped not so tightly around her, eyes closed, expression relaxed. Homura should have been more relieved, but instead, all she could feel was frustration. This complicated matters.

She slowly moved to lay the girl on the nearby futon, and the newcomer stood and followed.

"I'm glad you got here when you did. I didn't know what to do, and when I tried talking with her, it only made things worse."

Homura looked at her newest unwanted house guest. "Tell me what happened. Start with how you broke into my home." As far as Homura could see, there were no signs of forced entry. But with magic, that didn't mean much.

"I didn't break in." Homura scowled, and the older girl recoiled the slightest bit. "I'll explain what I can, I promise." The girl paused and looked at her nervously, inching back, as if worried about Homura's reaction. "But first, I have to ask." She glanced down at the ring on Homura's left hand, but then she skipped over it and looked at her right instead. "You're a magical girl, right?"

Homura nodded. But the girl in front of her wasn't. There wasn't a trace of magic about her. Not even potential. And with no Soul Gem ring on her finger, she must have learned about magic secondhand.

Unless she was like Sana.

"I thought so. I just had to be sure. Or this probably won't make any sense."

Homura glared at her. "You're stalling."

"I'm not trying to, it's just—"

"Then why are you here?" she asked pointedly.

The reply came slower this time. "I don't know, exactly. But I think . . ." She looked over at Sana sleeping on the futon. "I think it was her."

That's right. Homura had nearly forgotten. Sana's magic was some form of matter transferal. Now it made sense. "She summoned you here."

At the very least, it explained how she had entered her home without force. But it raised just as many questions. Why did Sana bring her here? Did the two know each other? Was this person the friend Sana had mentioned? The magical girl named Ichijō?

"No, that's not what I meant," she said. Her posture shrank in on itself the slightest bit. "This is going to sound crazy. Just don't panic, okay?"

Homura doubted any explanation, true or not, could be so alarming. Not after the countless dead-end timelines she'd experienced. Not after so many painful failures and bitter, hard-learned lessons. In this timeline alone, her plans had already been disrupted by two people she had never met, at least one of whom was a magical girl. She was still unsure if the older one was as well. But even if she wasn't, she appeared to have some superficial knowledge of magical girls and the Incubator's system. Which implied that her explanation involved something most magical girls would react poorly to. Something distressing.

"I think I was already here," the girl continued, hesitating a bit before pressing on.

But Homura was only half-listening. The image of Sana's tear-stricken face came back to her, the girl too upset to speak. Too miserable to do anything but cling to her and cry. And one reason, above all other possible reasons, came to mind.

Sana had learned the truth.

"I just . . . wasn't me."

The words took a moment to register. And when they finally did, it was as if the world had gone silent. Gone was the ticking of the grandfather clock, the turning of gears. Gone was the faint birdsong from outside. For a moment, she'd wondered if her magic had triggered on its own, because all she could hear was her own breathing. She turned her head to scan the table, then the rest of the room. And when she didn't see what she was looking for, she felt for its magic.

But she couldn't find it.

Just as quickly, her gaze returned to the stranger in front of her. And she waited, unsure if this was a bad joke, an elaborate ruse, or maybe even a fanciful dream. Wondering if she'd wake up at any moment, as the very next words turned the world on its side.

"I think I was a witch."

Sana's comforter felt heavier than usual. And her pillow was too small. And the bed beneath her wasn't as soft as it was supposed to be.

That's when her waking mind remembered. This wasn't her bed. This wasn't even her house. She was still at Homura's.

Her eyes opened to a dim, colorless ceiling. The calming stars from last night were gone, and the odd assembly of gears and pinions had returned. So too had the changing pictures on the wall. And for a moment, Sana just lay there, thinking about where she was and where she ought to be.

Homura's room, although a little weird, was slowly beginning to grow on her. Maybe because, in some strange way, it was almost familiar. It was nothing like hers or her friends' rooms back in Tokyo. It was more like Wonderland, with its own structure and its own rules. Its own desires. And then thinking on their similarities, she began to wonder if Homura would ever want to visit Wonderland with her, like Hatori and Ayumu had. She had a feeling that the older girl might like it, and it might be fun to spend more time with her.

But right now, as nice as Homura was, Sana just wanted to go home. Except she didn't know where home was. The house wasn't the right house. The shop wasn't the right shop. And she couldn't find Zōroku or Sanae no matter where she looked. Not knowing where else to try, she even jumped to that big research facility. But it was gone. She'd landed in the middle of the woods, no roads or buildings in sight.

Lots of stuff was all wrong, and it made her frazzled. She hated feeling frazzled.

She didn't know what to do. That's why she hoped that Homura could help her. Homura wasn't as old as Sanae, but she still felt smart and dependable. Even if she seemed a little sad.

Then again, Sana felt the same way right now. She was worried about Homura and Ichijō, and she didn't know how to help them, and she still couldn't go home. She didn't like any of it.

Sitting up, she looked around the room, wondering if Homura was awake. It was early, so maybe she was still asleep? Sanae had told her some people were "morning people," meaning they woke up extra early with lots of energy. Were morning people always like that, or did they somehow become morning people? Either way, Sana herself definitely wasn't like that. She got tired too easily, and she was still a little hungry from last night. But when she felt frazzled like this, she couldn't go back to sleep.

The living room was empty, but she did notice something different about it. Pushing the covers off, she stood up slowly and made her way to the circular table in the center of the room. The table where that bad-feeling thing was. A Grief Seed, Homura had called it. She didn't like the name, either. Seeds were supposed to sprout flowers and trees and stuff. Pretty things. But grief was like sadness, wasn't it? She didn't know why anyone would want to plant sadness.

Next to the black jewel was a piece of paper that wasn't there the night before. And it was addressed to her.

Sana, I've gone to pick up a few things. I will return shortly.

Homura must be a morning person, she decided.

Sana frowned the slightest bit and wondered how long ago she had left. When she would return. Homura had promised to be here, and it hurt that she wasn't. But that wasn't entirely true. She was still here here, and she had left Sana a note, too. So it wasn't like she'd just disappeared.

But even then, Sana still hoped she'd be back soon.

Her eyes landed again on the Grief Seed. She really didn't like that thing. Last night, she had hoped that Homura would take it back if she just left it alone. But Homura had left it on the table instead. And she had told Sana to keep it, too. She said it was important for magical girls like her and Ichijō. But Sana wasn't a magical girl, and she didn't know what she was supposed to do with it.

Activating her Mirror Gate, she lifted the odd stone into the air and brought it closer, dropping it into her hand. It was hard and cold to the touch. She held it between her fingers and inspected it, brow furrowing.

It was weird seeing something so small with so much energy. And it was weird that the energy had feelings, too. Just being close to it was kind of like looking into someone's head. (Zōroku had told her not to do that anymore, but right now she wasn't even trying to.) But actually holding it was like experiencing someone else's feelings for herself. Except they were all the bad feelings.

Anger. Sadness. Pain. Even complicated ones like guilt and loneliness.

All the same feelings from the weird bird-thing that attacked her.

That was something else Sana was frazzled about. She was glad Homura had protected her, but Sana had just wanted the bird to leave. Not to die.

And if the bird-thing was gone and this strange rock was all that was left, then why did it have feelings? That didn't make any sense! Rocks didn't have feelings.

She didn't understand. But she wanted to. Her Mirror Gate appeared, and she focused on the Grief Seed in front of her. Maybe if she just—

There was a sudden pull, and everything went white.

The room was peaceful. The only sounds were her footsteps and the drone of the air conditioners. The librarian's assistant, the sole other occupant, smiled and nodded at her as she passed. She was too upset to smile back.

Where am I?

She navigated the tall shelves to a table in the corner. Somewhere she could sulk and stew in self-resentment and regret. Somewhere she could think through her problems while bound to her textbook and practice sheets.

She had yelled at her best friend. Blown up at her over a misunderstanding. How had she even said something so cruel? That wasn't like her. And it took cleaning her gem to remember that.

There was something wrong with her. There was no denying it. The more she fought, the worse she felt. The more magic she used, the harder it was to control her emotions. She was slowly becoming a monster. An uncaring, selfish monster. And she wasn't sure how to make it stop.

The library faded away, just as small arms wrapped around her stomach. Her brother, reaching up to hug her from the side. "Sumi. I can't sleep. Will you read to me?"

But I'm not Sumi. I'm Sana.

She set her pencil down on the kitchen table and patted him on the head. "Sorry, Touya." She wanted nothing more than to take a break. To read to him like she used to. But she couldn't stop. She physically couldn't. Her wish wouldn't allow it. "I'm really busy right now. Go ask Mom or Dad, okay?" He tightened his hug, disappointed, and then padded off to look for their parents.

She turned back to her work.

To the gemstone in her shaking hand. A black core enclosed in unmarred gold. She stared at it, kneeling in the sodden dirt and between the trees, moonlight peering through the clouds. Waiting as the hollow ache from her waning magic spread further and further, a searing, ice-cold torment from within.

Stop it! Please! It hurts!

She clutched it to her chest. Waiting, praying, knowing it had to stop eventually. Any minute now and she'd be free, and she could go home, but it hurt so much. The darkness began seeping through her fingers, and her whole body was numb, and there was a sound like fracturing and . . .

Sana screamed and threw the object in her hand as hard as she could, the Grief Seed hitting the wall with a plink and ricocheting to the floor, eventually rolling to a stop. She collapsed to her hands and knees. Trembling and barely able to breathe. Still trying to understand what she had seen. What she had felt. For a few seconds, she had been someone else.

Those were memories.

That gem was—inside it was a person. A girl like Sanae. Like . . . Homura.

Then she realized what she'd just done, tears coming to her eyes. She stood and ran over to the Grief Seed and knelt down. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to." Her shaking hands hovered just above the gem. She wanted to pick her up and apologize. But even doing that much felt wrong now. Like she shouldn't touch her without permission.

But maybe she'd feel less lonely if she did. Maybe she'd forgive her. Sana really hoped so.

Slowly and carefully, she cupped her hands around the gem and cradled her. Apologized again for throwing her, because she hadn't known. Hadn't realized someone was inside. But now Sana could feel her. She was alone and in pain. Trapped and not the right shape. But she was there.

And Sana wanted to help her. She wanted it as much as she'd ever wanted anything. She could fix this—whatever this was.

Blinking her tears away, Sana stood with the Grief Seed in hand. She rubbed her eyes with her sleeve to dry them, and then, activating her Mirror Gate, she floated the girl to a safe distance. She'd never done this before, so she had to be extra, extra careful. She couldn't mess up.

She wouldn't!

Closing her eyes, she used her powers to peer into the gem—past the shell, past the feathers and scales, past the anger and the crying. Feelings and thoughts and memories brushed against her as she went, but this time she remained herself and wouldn't let them pull her in. She kept searching and searching, until she finally found what she was looking for. But even once she did, something was still missing. The shape she needed wasn't here. So she held on tightly, concentrating as hard as she could. Peeling back time, unraveling the tangled layers of reality to see who the girl really was. To learn everything about her. The sound of her voice, the prints on her fingers. Every nerve and every tissue, every bone and every muscle . . .

Every last piece.

The Grief Seed began to glow, hairline cracks splintering along its exterior as the metal filigree slowly dissolved. Brighter and brighter it became, until the gem shone a brilliant white. With a sound like shattering glass, the casing burst apart, fragments turning to dust, leaving behind a small orb of light that grew and morphed into a silhouette of a person.

The light vanished, and the figure remained, body gently descending to the floor.

Her Mirror Gate disappeared.

Only a few moments later, the girl opened her eyes and sat up with a start. She was still for just a moment, before looking down at herself. Staring at her hands as if they were foreign to her. "A dream?" she asked, voice barely a whisper. Then she began to take in her surroundings. "What is this place? How did I get here?"

Then she noticed Sana. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see you there." She slowly stood up. "I'm Sumi. What's your name?"

Sana just stared at her.

"That's fine too. You don't have to tell me. If you don't want to, I mean. But you wouldn't happen to know . . ." She never finished the question.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

She wasn't. She wasn't okay at all. Because everything was wrong. Horrible and mean and wrong. Try as she might, she couldn't hold back any longer.

Sana Kashimura finally broke down into tears.

A/N: Next chapter is almost finished, but Uncertainty Propagation needs an update first. Sorry for the wait.