Our narrative detours by my own place of residence before we go to hers. Impressed by my... what she seems to think is prowess with a wheelchair (though again she flatters me; my experience with them is briefer than you might believe), Mrs. Kaname wanted my help around the house. I offhandedly noted that my parents would have no issue if I stayed over while I did.

The only trouble is that my own abode won't be without its housekeeping woes.

I address my dolls: "Understand that door fifteen is not to be unlocked under any circumstances. If ever its lock is broken, it is to be fastened with a sturdier one. If ever something leaves room fifteen, it is to be killed instantly and with extreme prejudice."

Number fourteen, Stubbornness, turns her nose up. "We have no fealty to the Good-For-Nothing!"

Number one, Pride, concurs, saying: "In fact, we might go tear it down right now. That should show you."

"I see."

I applaud them. Slowly and softly, enough that they know I still hate them.

"What is the Good-For-Nothing doing now...?"

"Nothing. I'm congratulating you. I admire your camaraderie! Look at you all: not only are you so certain of sabotaging me, but you know your fellows are too. Each of you, entirely certain that of your thirteen sisters, not one of them will go against the wishes of the group and receive my praise alone and undivided for being so helpful."

They glance among themselves. Confused. The seeds of distrust have been sown shallow in fertile soil.

The third, Liar, confronts me. "You would use such trickery to divide us? The Good-For-Nothing has revealed her true nature as a controller and manipulator."

"My true nature...?"

"You would deny it?"

"My true nature? Ha. Born of my labyrinth, you wouldn't know that I have been far, far worse things than a witch."

Six, Slander, pushes her sisters aside. "By worse, of course, she means more pathetic."

I hold my palm to her head. A light flashes, and she is dust. The dust fuses to igneous glass, and cools so quickly it shatters.

"You are inconveniencing me from being by my beloved's side at her time of need. For that, I deem you unworthy of the gift of life. You wish to see me as I really am?"

I shrug.

"I have no qualms with seeing to it that all of you *aren't*. Now ensure that she's reborn a little more cooperative, or else I'll feed you on living human flesh. Enough to make you witches - then you might see the agony which comes with such a state firsthand."

Eight, Jealousy: "Eh, Good-For-Nothing-"

"Will this be a worthwhile use of my time?"

"Err..."

"I'll see you all again soon enough. Lotte."

Four beefeaters with a striking resemblance to my younger self coalesce from shadows on the ground.

"See to it that nobody intrudes in my absence, won't you? Your recalcitrance will not be spared the same execution as your sisters."

They salute. I am satisfied.

Cut.

The morning of the seventh.

The Kaname household is the kind of place I could, in another life, only dream about ever visiting, its family; one I could never dream of meeting. Now it feels more my own than my own. I ruminate idly, from time to time, on what my life would be like in a home like this. Maybe I'd be just like her. I hope I would.

I carry essential personal toiletries, four days of clean clothes, and my school laptop in a bag. In truth, I'm carrying far more, but the contents of the shield only remain in the shield because it beats letting the dolls get their hands on them. I'm sure Chekhov would like a word, but I've had enough of living by the styles of nineteenth-century European authors.

Mr. Kaname is in the kitchen. I'm an early riser, so I've arrived before even breakfast has been served. If I were in a pleasant mood, this punctuality would not be such a concern, and time manipulation would have reared its ugly head again.

But I am not in a pleasant mood.

He is, at least. "Ah, Homura! You're here early!"

"I saw no reason not to be. How is she?"

"She woke up at around five in the morning. I think she tried to get back to sleep, but I don't know if she managed."

"I see. Was she alright last night?"

"She had some motor difficulties eating and talking. Well, either that, or she didn't want to do much of either..."

"Should I go talk to her?"

"Well, that's really up to her, isn't it?"

Not if she's in any trouble.

I excuse myself and ascend to her room. Gently, I rap on the door and announce my presence. I hear movement inside, toward the door. This moment, I think, is for steeling myself against how bad it might be this morning. Could her room be torn apart by a poltergeist-like phenomenon? Could she be a supernaturally aware somnambulist? Could the-

Oh!

"Homura! Darling! It's good to see you."

She puts her arm around me. She's unsteady enough to have to lean on the door frame. Her grip on me is weaker than it historically has been. Her face is slightly palsied, and her voice is deeper and hoarser than I've heard it in a while.

But otherwise, she's totally fine. No sounds from Hell. No sunlight-pouring stigmata. Nothing so much as a small levitating object inexplicably hanging in her room.

"You're looking better than yesterday."

She leads me inside and smiles. "Really? I feel better than yesterday, but I thought I looked much worse."

"Not at all. Has your mother told you I'm going to be staying over for a while?"

Her jaw drops open... about as much as it can right now. "No, I only woke up! What's the occasion?"

I don't answer.

"Oh. Well, you don't have to, I mean..."

Cut.

Come with me a moment. There is one conversation with the dolls I've been keeping secret for the past... year and a half? It was in a timeline branch I needed to prune in the end, so I couldn't be more exact than that. I have been forced to confess my love aloud to them all, and Vanity the tenth has made short work of mocking me for it.

"Is this a laughing matter to you?"

Thirteen, Envy, insists: "It really could not be more perfect! You two are so alike!"

Vanity is sure to add, "And in all the worst ways."

"We are nothing alike. She and I could not be more different."

"But you're both so ready to lie down and die for each other, yet neither of you would let the other! You both want to be a shoulder to lean on, and neither of you open up about anything! You're both destructively brash when you're confronted with a problem that needs delicate thought, and absorbed in your own grand plans to fix things over when you're not. And if anything happened to the other... well, look at what that did to you. Imagine what would happen if your places were switched...?"

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"You have our blessing to... mingle, with her. It should be exciting to see which of you destroys the other first."

Cut.

"I'm going to. I won't stand for anything to the contrary."

She looks away.

"Having the opportunity to spend time with you isn't an inconvenience, you know."

"I know, it's just... this is awfully charitable of you."

"Charitable? After all you've brought to my life, you'd reduce this to charity? This is no such thing. This is part of my love for you."

She frowns. "This isn't a waste of your ti...? Oh. Right."

The exact extent might still be under wraps, but it's no secret among our friends that I'm only attached to each moment in time by choice.

I lift her chin and put my lips to hers. We both sit upon her bed once we pull away. I tell her, "Please. If you insist on doing something in return, all I ask is that you do not worry. I want nothing else."

"You're trying not to worry about it, too, aren't you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You don't talk like a nineteenth-century noblewoman unless you're worried."

"Well, yes, I suppose. How could I not be worried?"

A call to breakfast interrupts us.

She smiles. "That means more than I can say, darling. Can... can we talk about this more after we eat?"

"If you'd rather."

"Thank you."

She leans her head on my shoulder.

"Thank you so much."

"Is everything alright?"

"Ah... right! I forgot to tell you. Last night I got a pair of crutches to use around the house. Could you grab them for me?"

She points behind the door. I help her to them, then, my arm around hers, we descend to the kitchen. Mr. Kaname apologizes for making something so modest, then presents us with homemade bruschetta. I'm afraid to see what he cooks on a good day.

The afternoon of the seventh, back on her bed.

I think we both knew neither of us had the heart to talk about our worries after breakfast. Don't be concerned by the silence; we have our own ways of showing love to one another.

"You don't have a problem with me being here, do you?"

She laughs and shakes her head. "Only that you might start thinking I'm uncool."

I pull her close enough for our cheeks to touch. "Girlfriends aren't supposed to be cool in front of each other, darling."

"Oh, this is you not trying to be cool?"

My body, I think, gave up on thermostasis without me... so why this warmth in my cheeks? "Smoothly done."

"Hehehe! It's so easy to get you flustered...!"

"Only for you."

"I still don't believe when you say I'm the "only" person you've ever been attracted to."

"Well, it's true!"

She throws a pillow at me. "That's too romantic, oh my gosh!"

"You really can't see it, can you?"

"See what?"

"Just how beautiful you are."

"And there you go again!"

"I'm not trying to flirt. I'm genuinely surprised."

She hums and haws. "Okay, but... if there wasn't me, if I already had a girlfriend or something, surely you'd have asked someone else out by now?"

I bite my lip. "Rock paper scissors."

"Alright... but no time powers!"

"Never! Where would the fun be in that?"

Paper against paper. Tie.

Rock against paper. Point: hers.

"Surely there's someone else you've had a crush on, at some point?"

"No. Actually, I like this. Yes/no questions only."

She nods and grins.

Scissors against scissors. Tie.

Scissors against scissors. Another tie.

Scissors against paper. Point: mine.

"On the other hand, I'm not your first crush, am I?"

"Um, well..."

"You can say no."

"Okay. No, you're not. Sorry."

I shrug.

Paper against rock. Point: mine.

"A celebrity?"

She shakes her head.

Scissors against scissors. Unbelievable.

Rock against paper. Point: hers.

"Have you ever said, "chaos control", when you've stopped time?"

"Like Shadow? No. Should I?"

She tut-tuts. "Not your turn. But yes."

A wince crosses her features.

"Now this hand's gone all numb... is it alright if I sit on the other side of you?"

We shuffle around to accommodate this.

Scissors against rock. Point: hers.

"Have you ever shot your gun up in the air, and gone, "Aaah!"?"

"Was that in one of the action movies we watched?"

"Maybe...?"

"No, I can't say I've ever shot my gun up in the air, and gone, "Aaah!"."

Paper against rock. Point: mine.

And you know, I can't help but think through all these draws, it would be easier if I had a coin. It only ever comes up heads or tails, and unlike how psychology becomes relevant within rock paper scissors, to put an outcome to a coin is to put it in the hands of fate.

Therefore, if you can make a coin come up neither result, you can defy fate.

Therefore,

if you can make a coin come up neither result,

you can defy fate.

Do you get what I'm saying? About the- oh, forget it. Not that it was ever fantastic, but the story fell off. Solve it yourself.

"Your first crush."

She laughs nervously. "It has to be a yes or no question, so you can't-"

"Sayaka."

"Uh... I... how did you know?"

"That's a yes, then."

She winces.

"I'm sorry, should I not have...?"

"No, I'm just surprised, is all."

"I won't tell her, of course."

"I think she knows, anyway..."

Scissors against scissors.

Paper against rock. Point: mine.

"I've been wondering something, Madoka."

She perks up.

"Your magical girl outfit. Before you got it, did you ever somehow just... know, that this was what it was going to be?"

"Huh, now that you mention it...! Why, was it the same for you too?"

"It's been a long time, but I think so."

"Oh, right! Because of your time powers, huh? How long has it been?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Hehehe, well just you wait until I win the next round!"

"We'll see."

Rock against paper. Point: hers.

"Did you love her?"

I...

What?

I don't know what she means by this, or where this is coming from. My mouth seems to, and answers an immediate yes. We're instantly thrust into another round.

Scissors against rock. Point: hers.

"Did you hate her?"

"Never. Even when she hated me."

Rock against paper. Point: hers.

"Did you hurt her?"

"More deeply than I can ever hope to atone for."

Rock against paper.

"Did you touch her?"

"I'd not blemish her with the unholiness of my presence."

Paper against scissors.

"Even if she asked?"

"She wouldn't."

Rock against paper.

"What if she would?"

"She wouldn't."

Scissors against rock.

"Did you kill her?"

"Yes."

Rock against paper.

"And did she ask for that?"

"Oh, yes. She begged. Time and again, she used her last breath to beg for it."

Scissors against rock.

"And that is holy?"

"Nothing is holier than relieving her of pain."

Scissors against rock.

"Would you kill her again?"

"No more killing. Please."

A silence strikes out of nowhere, like lightning.

"W...hat? Oh, Homura, I didn't pass out mid-conversation, did I?"

"You looked like you needed it. I didn't want to wake you."

"Did anything... I don't know, happen?"

"Nothing."

"Okay. That's a relief."

Another silence. I dread any moment she might "pass out" again.

"Oh! We aren't doing anything tomorrow night, are we?"

"I don't know."

"Well, Sayaka was wondering if we'd want to go along on a double date. I think she said she wanted to celebrate my recovery. I totally forgot to ask you."

"What, here?"

"Huh? Oh, no no no no no! You know Kyoko doesn't like being here, right...?"

Right.

I'd forgotten about that.

Now I feel like an idiot.

Though, as you might have gathered, I hold Mrs. Kaname in high regard (and frankly, as you well know, emotionally stable role models have been in short supply in my life), not everyone feels as at home around her as I do. If Kyoko catches word that you admire a parent who happens to be a heavy drinker, she looks at you like a wounded animal ready to kill its predator.

Not that I blame her.

"Where, then?"

"Some kind of fancy place near her apartment."

"Are you sure you're ready to be going out again?"

"Well, it's not like I'll be alone."

I nod. "But I insist we be careful."

She grins. "Anything for you, darling."

The evening of the eighth.

Not much of note has transpired in the intervening day. Well, nothing out of the new normal.

She asked me to share her bed overnight, then held me like a pillow the entire time. It's nice, you know. Being wanted, like that.

We're at the aforementioned "fancy place" of a restaurant. I don't think the two of us exactly anticipated that meant getting dressed up, but it takes more than the guilt of a faux pas to rattle me, and Madoka's more anxious about the crutches she walked in on. Our friends have picked out dresses that I'm certain look more expensive than they are. You can guess their colours, and you'd be right.

The service is impeccable. We order within the minute.

I admit, "I'm impressed the two of you can afford a venue like this."

Sayaka's answer is, "Well, it's for your trouble. Tonight we dine to Madoka's soon-to-be good health, so why not go a little crazy with it?"

The two of us this side of the table smile uncomfortably at this.

"Relax, you two! My parents don't mind that we've come out to a place like this~!"

Kyoko smirks. "Mine neither."

Madoka only grows more uncomfortable. To each their own. I thought it was funny.

Sayaka ignores her and leans diagonally over the table. "So! Madoka! How have you been feeling the past couple of days?"

"Well, I've been awake, hehehe..."

Kyoko points. "What are the crutches for?"

This makes Madoka terribly uncomfortable.

"You know what? Super stupid question. Forget it."

"No! No, not at all. Sometimes I just... go numb, usually in the legs, but anywhere, really."

I elaborate: "Usually, in leaving the house, we've been using a chair, but-"

"Homuraaa... I didn't want them to know about that."

I grab the shield on my arm. "Should I undo that?"

"No, it's alright..."

"Nothing wrong with it," pouts Sayaka.

I try, instead, "Are you... ashamed about it?"

"No, I just don't want to think about that kind of thing. If that's alright."

"I understand. Me neither."

Sayaka shrugs and reiterates her point, in case we hadn't heard her, I presume. "Nobody's gonna judge you for it. Except maybe Kyoko."

"What? C'mon. I'm not fourteen anymore."

"It's not that... I just don't want to be a dead weight to the team, is all."

"What team? You mean as wraith hunters?"

"All I want to do is protect people from wraiths! It means a lot to me."

Sayaka nods. "Right. So you feel bad, because you don't think you can help other people anymore?"

"I guess..."

"Then I guess the rest of us are just gonna have to work extra-hard until you're feeling better!"

"Well, I don't exactly mean like that..."

"Huh? What are you trying to say?"

"It makes me feel good to fight them off... really good. I don't want to lose that from my life."

"Yeah? Well, that's exactly why you should rest up! Save your energy and you'll be back on your A-game in no time!"

"It's not like that, either! I mean, I've always felt... er, it's just... it's stronger now. Stronger when I can't move."

This is news to me. "What's the feeling you're describing?"

"I'm not talking about it."

She doesn't say that she doesn't want to. She says very specifically that she isn't.

We all eat in silence.

The morning of the ninth.

Evermore my concern for her grows. It's early, but even so, conversation with her is proving difficult. This isn't because of a lasting grudge from the night before. Well, not directly, at any rate. I hypothesize that it's because of her frustration last night that her soul has been too overloaded with emotion to let her think clearly. I won't believe the two things aren't connected: I've seen enough happen world and world again to rattle my faith in coincidence.

"Can you stand, at least?"

She's wincing. I'm picking up that her current state is coming to her like a severe headache. She mumbles something disappointed-sounding.

"But it's almost time for breakfast. Should I collect it for you?"

An indecisive grumble this time.

"I'm more than willing to help you out in any way I can, you know. And it's not because I'm suggesting you're inept. It's because if our places were switched I know you would do the same."

She relaxes somewhat. I excuse myself and hurry downstairs. Getting cold on the bench sits an omelette for myself and one for her.

I... want to skip much of what happens next, when we do have breakfast, because she wouldn't like me to be so open with the details.

We finish eating. This is the point where the niceties become relevant again.

I confess to her that I don't think I've ever had a breakfast like that before, and set our plates aside.

Slowly her gaze sweeps the room, and settles on me. Her expression doesn't change, and she says nothing. The only response of acknowledgement is that she's looking at me now.

My phone rings. This isn't the time, so I press decline call. The screen cracks. So does the air around it, and a familiar dark wind flows in. I hurry to seal it.

"I'm sorry. I'm not sure what had just happened."

The phone rings again.

"Excuse me."

This time I answer.

"Hello, who is this?"

Her voice comes through the other end. I nearly drop the phone.

"Homura! Homura, can you hear me?"

"I..."

"Is that you?"

"Yes! Yes, I can hear you. But how...?"

"Is something the matter...?"

"You're sitting right in front of me."

"And how do I look?"

"I don't... well, quite alright, beautiful as always, even with- no, how is this possible?"

She sounds worried. "Even with what?"

"I was going to say, "even with your face, I presume, being paralyzed". But can you please explain how you are calling me?"

"Oh! Hehehe! I'm so sorry, it's not easy to think clearly right now... I still don't know what's happening, but I think my soul gem is up to something."

"Like what?"

"Well, normally it's supposed to connect you to your body or something, right? But I think the problem with mine is that the connection's a little frayed..."

"So instead of connecting to you, you're saying your energy is bleeding out into other things? Hijacking televisions, stopping clocks, and now sending telephone signals?"

"Whaaat? It's been doing all those things too? I haven't noticed it doing that much, actually..."

Oh.

"How... how bad... is it?"

"I don't know how to measure this kind of thing. I'm sorry."

"Is it under control, at least?"

How am I supposed to answer that?

"Is it under control?"

Her body asks this question in a much sterner tone of voice. I...

Oh, Lord, I notice her hand, curled into a fist. I look at my own and see that without even knowing it, I've formed one of my own, with the index and middle finger protruding towards her at a V-angle.

Point...

...Hers.

"No."

"Do you know what it is?"

"No."

"Can you save me?"

"Please, please don't ask me that question."

"Can you save me?"

"I don't know. I don't know! All of time and space inside my head, and no answer one way or the other!"

"Can you save yourself?"

"Can we stop talking now?"

Whatever was asking recedes, although I see less difference between it and her than I previously thought.

"I just want to lie here together, for a moment."

She says nothing for a time, and then, "I'd like that."

We lie there together, silently. For hours, in fact. We're tired. We're too tired.

Afternoon of the ninth.

I'd fallen asleep at one point. I wake with a putrid dryness in my mouth.

Madoka, it seems, was watching me sleep.

"Hello, darling..."

"Good afternoon, my beloved Homura."

I smirk. "Your beloved?"

"My darling."

"Something has you in a good mood today, then...?"

I rub my eyes and watch her force a smile. "I'm not sure, I think I just wanted to tell you how glad I am that you've been trying to help me through this."

I sit up. "But of course, in a heartbeat!"

"Do you still have those?"

"Have what?"

"Heartbeats."

"I try not to think about it."

"Are you... alive?"

I brush my fringe from my face. "You've asked me that before."

"I mean, I don't really understand your answers, hehe..."

"What kind of answer would you like?"

"Mostly yes or mostly no."

"Hmm."

I really sit on this one.

"Mostly no."

"Oh! Have I been kissing a corpse this whole time?"

She seems deeply distressed to wonder such a thing.

"Is a demon better or worse?"

"Definitely better, hehehe!"

There's a lilt in the conversation. I can tell there is a terrible, terrible idea behind her eyes, but all I can do is watch it ferment until she can articulate it.

"Is it better than living? Being dead, I mean."

"I used to hope it was. Now I'm not sure."

This answer makes her tense.

"As per your earlier theory, though, I don't think you're dying."

And this answer makes it worse. I need to...

I need to toughen up. I need to talk her into saying things I don't ever, ever want to hear, because I don't know how to help otherwise.

"You don't... want to die, do you?"

She shakes her head furiously. Thank the Lord.

"But you can't stop thinking about it, can you?"

"I can tell I have to die. But I don't want to."

You recall the true Homura I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter. I keep that away from Madoka, because it's not something she deserves to be faced with in the person she wants to love.

But in the face of existential threat, all this effort, all this thought I put into hiding it can be put to better use elsewhere. Do I seem ruthless? This is because it's being anything else which takes effort.

"How are you going to die?"

"I'm falling apart..."

"What does that mean?"

With a fingertip, she illustrates some kind of line running down her body.

"I don't know what you're trying to tell me."

It's not fair of me to tell her that. I'm speaking only on impulse. She chokes on a completely dry sob.

"I want to help, please, but we can't get to the bottom of this unless you tell me what's wrong."

She whimpers, "I can't stand this... not for another moment... It feels like I'm going to die...!"

I embrace her. The gesture comes automatically. "It's alright, my darling. I've got you now. You're safe."

The words feel hollow, even to me, and I can't shake the feeling that I'm doing something terribly, awfully wrong.

"I don't want to die in this body..."

"You're not going to- wait, what did you say?"

"I'm supposed to have another form... I don't belong like this!"

She shakes me off and clutches her arms to her chest. Her eyes are that piercing golden hue once again. This isn't supposed to be happening!

"What are you talking about?! I saved you from oblivion when I returned you to that body! Aren't you thankful? Aren't you happy like this?"

Drops of sunlight begin to roll down her cheeks. Her voice develops an unnatural echo. Slowly, she lifts about three centimeters off the ground. "W-why...? It's so weak, and impure, and flawed, and ugly, and wrong, I hate it, I hate it, I HATE IT!"

The floor splits. The walls hum. The windows crack. When she realizes what's happened, she covers her mouth in shock and begins to sob. She continues, in a broken voice: "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry, this has never happened before, this isn't..."

I catch her just before she faints and help her back onto her bed.

What happened? I've never seen anything make her so angry before.

Maybe the dolls were right. After all, I've never seen anything make me so angry before, either.

That's not true. Better to say, "in this universe".

Maybe all this time I've underestimated how much it means to her to be able to use her powers. Or maybe I've ignored how much inward-facing anger she's been burying all this time. Or worse, and more likely, both.

I...

Didn't mean to tell her that I was the one who gave her that form. That's a conversation I don't look forward to.

If she ever speaks again, at this rate.

I look away from her when I sit down. "Whatever force demands this of her, you have no right."

Who am I telling, at this stage? I don't know if she can so much as hear me. It doesn't matter. It needs to be said.

"Your livelihood was my eternal struggle. To see you smile would have been reward enough for my efforts. If the universe didn't want me to have that, why'd it have to take it from you? If karma is so eager to make me lose everything, why do you suffer for that?"

Silence.

"Dammit!"

I scream myself hoarse. I scream until I cough blood. I scream until exhaustion forces me back into my true form. I don't care.

I don't care.

I stand over her.

"We could have run away. We didn't have to fight the storm, in fact, we never did. This was your problem; you had to help. Even if you only put more people in harm's way, even if you died trying, you had to help, no matter what!

I recoil from the cadence of my own voice.

I only whisper now, "They were right. Good heavens, they were right. You really are exactly like me."

Eight point four three seconds pass. This, I determine, is the exact length of my patience.

"This is my reality! It answers to me! How dare it put you in a state like this?!"

She gains enough motor control over her body to flinch. I regret my tone, but I mean what I said.

"I'm sorry. I suppose you've never seen me so angry before. Usually, when I get this stressed, it's when I have an enemy to fight."

I sit down in her desk chair. I'm looking at her, and not at where I'm putting my hand. A moment later I papercut my finger.

"Ouch!"

She puts her index finger in her mouth and winces. I look at my own. Not a scratch.

I ask her, "Are you alright?"

"I don't know. I think I cut myself on something. Hah..."

"Do you feel like you're suffering for me?"

She jumps at such an accusation. "I don't understand what you mean by that? Homura, I just cut my finger."

"Just now I was shouting about how unfair your condition is. Then I cut my hand on a sheet of paper, only that cut didn't appear on my hand..."

"You're not saying...?"

She removes the digit from her mouth and stares at it worriedly.

"What do you think it is? A curse gravitating all ill will towards you? Manifestation of a subconscious desire to carry other people's burdens? Violation of causality?"

"Huh? Well, I think it's a papercut."

"Please, can you take this seriously? Your existence may very well be in danger!"

"Homura, please... I'm fine. Sure, it's... what's the word? An..."

"Anomalous?"

"I think so. But it's just a papercut! I can handle it."

I reach for her hand. An invisible wall stops me. She asserts in a voice that isn't hers, "Don't you think you've done enough?"

In fact, I'd say it sounded a lot like my voice.

I bow my head. "I'm... sorry."

"It's okay. But I can bear this."

She can't, but I've said enough.

"What... made you think it was a good idea to give me this body?"

"Honestly, it was only love. There was no grand plan, no all-encompassing belief that what I did was right. Just love."

"Really? It doesn't sound as nice as all that..."

"Love isn't a good thing. You've experienced love, darling, but you haven't been consumed by it. You haven't felt love bury its scolex in your neck. You haven't been torn apart by love, slowly, piece by piece."

"And you?"

"Every moment of every day, I love you so much it could kill me."

"And that's... your excuse...?"

"This isn't an excuse. It's an admission of guilt."

Kyoko has stressed to me many times before that she believes it's a problem that I'd sooner own up to certain behaviours than actually do anything to change them. I know what she means, now, but I'm not going to stop. Stopping is the only thing I can do that would be stupider than continuing.

"I'm not like most people, am I?"

I smile. "There's nobody as wonderful as you."

"But isn't that the problem? If you weren't as in love with me, this wouldn't be happening, would it?"

"Well, that's a loaded question."

Panic fills her eyes. "You don't think this is the best case scenario for me, do you?!"

"I know it is. I've been trying for hundreds of worlds to cultivate you a utopia. Leaving every last one where despair grips your heart to wither, and rot, and feed a happy ending."

"Every last one?"

"I've stamped out all the pain and violence and death from your life as I can."

"If you've been removing all undesirable probabilities... then you've been making everyone's choices for them! Do I really only exist because I haven't done anything you dislike yet?!"

"It's not like that."

"It isn't?"

"I've done everything I can to minimize my influence on your autonomy. I don't even touch your memory."

"Homura...!"

Fine. Wipe this world from the slate. I clap, onc-

A pink arrow settles in the palm of my left hand, striking the unbreakable soul gem on the back of it and shattering its own tip into fragments in my hand.

"Madoka..."

"Please don't. I don't want to die."

"It isn't death."

"Then why am I so scared of it...?"

I am too. Since when?

I lower my hand. The arrow vanishes.

"Who was I, before you?"

"You were yourself."

"What did I do to make you want to change that?"

I could say "Kill yourself by fighting a living natural disaster," but for obvious reasons I'm not going to.

"Did you... love her like you loved me?"

"I wasn't myself as you know me back then. I couldn't have, I didn't know love."

"All I want is the truth..."

"It's gone. There's no truth anymore."

Madoka stops talking. Stops blinking or moving. I'll apologize once she's back.

The morning of the tenth. No sign yet.

The eleventh. No sign yet. She has been hospitalized again.

The twelfth. No sign yet.

The thirteenth. No sign yet.

The fourteenth. No sign yet.

The fifteenth. No sign yet.

The sixteenth. No sign yet.

The seventeenth. No sign yet.

The eighteenth. No sign yet.

The nineteenth. No sign yet. The hospital is tattering like a scene painted onto old curtains.

The twentieth. No sign yet.

The twenty-first. No sign yet.

The twenty-second. No sign yet. The reality of the hospital has tattered entirely. There's only the two of us in my apartment. Maybe that's all there ever was.

I don't check the day.

I don't check the month.

I don't check the year.

I ask her if she still loves me, and I feel the answer in the air around her. Not as some anxious internal bias, but as an actual, tangible thing hanging about.

...

I'm sorry. I really am. I'm truly, deeply, sorry.

I've failed her. This time, possibly for good. I tried so hard, for so long, and in the end, I still lost. Something...

I keep telling myself: something has to be done. But there's nothing. I've let her down as both a lover and a friend, and I can't conceive of a single thing I could do or say to mend things over.

Well, that isn't exactly true, is it?

It's not, is it? What am I without the resilience she taught me? If I'm out of options, I need to make another. I have to seek counsel with a higher knowledge than my own. An exterior perspective from reality itself.

That's you.

Yes, I know it's never worked before, but this time I'm going to listen harder than I ever have before. I know also that this is completely impossible, but I know it has to work. Listen closely.

If this goes right, I should be able to ask you a question, and then, if you have something, anything at all to say, and all the stars are in place, and you and I both believe this can work, then for a single moment, I should be able to hear.

My question is this.

If you were me, if you had been in this exact situation, what would you tell her? What would you admit to get her to trust you again?

...

Let's reconvene after a usual two weeks, and I'll hear you out.