As N Approaches Infinity

by Corisanna

Despairing as yet another timeline goes horribly wrong, Homura wanders into Karakura. There she discovers that while the spiritually-aware people of Karakura were distracted by Ichigo Kurosaki and Xcution, Kyubey contracted the Kurosaki sisters as magical girls. Drawing the attention of the shinigami could be just the advantage Homura needs.

56. FÜNFUNDFÜNFZIG

A/N: We now return to your regularly scheduled broadcast of sunshine, rainbows, and Nice Boats.

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FÜNFUNDFÜNFZIG

TIMELINE X + N + 1

The rooftop journey was a blur to Sayaka. The tingle as they crossed the wards brought her back enough to register their swift navigation of the shop. Was she messed up in the head or were there way more hallways and rooms than the building should be able to hold?

A shudder ran through her at the memory of the shotgun muzzle flash in her face. She was definitely messed up in the head. Her head should probably be a mess on the ground. So. Yeah.

Sayaka wanted to throw up.

They stopped in a windowless room. Hitsugaya knelt and eased her in a corner, rose and told her to stay where she was, then hurried off to pull out futons. Sayaka nodded numbly in a delayed reaction, certain she couldn't move if she tried. She watched Hitsugaya help lower each of her friends onto a different futon. Mr. Tsukabishi swept a hand above Mami's body. She glowed faintly green as he turned away. The two men had a muttered conversation before the big man repeated the action on Madoka. Both men knelt over Homura's body.

Homura's breath was labored and raspy, what little Sayaka could see of her waxy face so pale and blue-lipped beneath drying gore that Sayaka wondered how there could be any blood left in her body; she looked like a breathing corpse. Her long hair was matted with congealing blood and fragments of bone and... other stuff Sayaka didn't want to think about. A deep gash in her neck had reopened in transit and was the first thing the men addressed. Mr. Tsukabishi did something that made the blood stop then Hitsugaya leaned down and iced it over with a light touch as they all muttered while pointing at different points of her body. Urahara gently lifted Homura's left hand and pressed the new Grief Seed against her ring. Homura moaned and fluttered her eyelids. Her eyes rolled around sightlessly and she writhed in agony but she flexed her hand and made her Soul Gem appear in egg form.

Sayaka wanted to throw up. The Soul Gem was so dark she could barely make out any purple. If she believed everything Homura had told her, her friend was on the cusp of turning into a Witch. On top of Mami being... dead? All because Sayaka had run ahead of her other friends and needed to be saved because she was too damn oblivious to notice she was running right into a labyrinth.

She remembered being pulled in all directions by the creepily smiling marionettes, remembered her own body making creaking sounds like cloth stretched too tightly.

Sayaka wanted to throw up.

She remembered Mami's empty-dead body falling toward her in the not-water, unfocused eyes wide in vacant surprise

Sayaka wanted to throw up.

She remembered the Familiars' screens changing channels from scenes of a car accident and a screaming woman to scenes of magical girls in various colored costumes dying violently; pink and red and yellow and blue Soul Gems exploding with blackness— or just exploding; the nightmare visions of Witches with clown faces and pumpkins and mermaid tails and dinosaur skeletons and candle-heads and spinning gears flickering ominously; was fervently glad she had been far enough from the screens to avoid seeing faces as magical girls were maimed.

Sayaka wanted to throw up.

She remembered the sight of Homura from between the slits in her visor. Remembered the shotgun, yes, but also the wretched face Homura had been making beyond it before she pulled the trigger. The tears in her violet eyes, so stark against the mask of gore on her skin.

Sayaka wanted to throw up.

She remembered becoming herself once more in the park, Homura's bloodied and exhausted face as she fell forward onto her.

Sayaka wanted to throw up.

She jolted back to reality at the sound of Homura sighing in relief. Sayaka saw that the Grief Seed in Urahara's hand was crackling and sparking blackly; he barked an order at Hitsugaya, who immediately ran from the room. What was more important to Sayaka was that Homura's Soul Gem had much improved. It was still worryingly dark, but Sayaka saw that it was fully purple in the moment before it flashed and reverted to ring form on Homura's hand. The magical girl's entire body went limp as she lost consciousness again.

Hitsugaya hurried back into the room as he popped the lid off some kind of glass tube. Urahara immediately shoved the Grief Seed into it. He grabbed the tube and closed it as Hitsugaya produced a second one. Sayaka shuddered at the object Urahara took out of his haori and shoved in the tube. That had been the last thing she saw before she had—

before she had—

Sayaka shuddered again and hugged herself, trying to ignore the way her skin crawled. Remembered twisting inside her. Remembered her leg bones cracking and popping and doing things they should never have done. Remembered the shotgun. Homura's despairing face. Her own face being blown off. She wanted to throw up.

"I gotta throw up," she blurted.

The men glanced at each other, then to Hitsugaya. Hitsugaya appeared at her side and lifted her. She didn't remember getting to a restroom but found herself retching into a toilet somehow. When she was done, she fell back into quiet sobbing. Having forgotten anyone was with her, Hitsugaya's hand on her shoulder startled her into shrieking. He pulled his hand back, but carefully replaced it when she looked at him. His face looked so awkward that hysterical laughter burst from her against her will. Hitsugaya looked disturbed, but stayed where he was and cautiously held out a glass of water.

They spent a long time and no time at all sitting across from one another in the hall. Hitsugaya stayed silent the entire time, mostly staring placidly at the wall to one side of her head with occasional glances to read her face and gauge her rocking. When she had calmed, he murmured, "We need to clean and dress your wounds until they can be healed."

Sayaka blinked tears from her eyes and stared at him. "Wounds?"

He eyed her oddly for a moment then lifted his chin to gesture at her body. "You have gunshot wounds. They don't seem to have hit anything vital, but they need tending."

Sayaka looked down and stared at the two bloody holes in her uniform top and a graze at the hip of her skirt. She poked a finger in one hole, registered that the warm wetness was bloody flesh, and numbly said, "Oh." Tilting her head, she mumbled, "I don't really feel it." She pouted and added, "Cleaning this uniform will suck."

Hitsugaya sighed something about shock and then they were in the room with everyone else again. Magic Man was kneeling beside Homura. One of his hands was hovering over her face and radiating warm green light; the other cradled the magical girl's left hand, a thumb glowing the bright red of the little magic trick he had shown them the other day pressed against the Soul Gem ring. He looked frustrated. Sayaka was made to sit on the last futon just as Mr. Tsukabishi relocated Madoka's shoulder with a cringe-worthy pop and lay her limbs out straight. Bile rose in Sayaka's throat again. At least it seemed she had missed the setting and splinting of Madoka's leg.

"Progress?" Hitsugaya asked as he stepped closer to Homura.

"She's accepting all the reiatsu I pour into her ring," Mr. Urahara muttered distractedly. "Drinking it right up. Gem's not getting brighter—"

"Darker?" asked Hitsugaya.

"No," Mr. Urahara answered, slightly mollified. "Perhaps I'm keeping pace with her need? My attempts to directly heal damage are... unsatisfactory." He huffed and gave up on the head wound, settling back and focusing on the Soul Gem.

Mr. Tsukabishi leaned over and looked at Homura with narrowed eyes, lifting his glasses and peering at something Sayaka couldn't see. "She's using your transfusion to heal herself?"

"Yes. Mostly, but not entirely." Mr. Urahara raised Homura's hand and looked at the ring more closely. "She's doing something else, too, but I'll be damned if I can tell what it is. The healing is too slow for my liking." He cast his gaze down at Homura's face, which they must have cleaned in Sayaka's absence so they could see the wound. Homura's face spasmed in pain as she struggled to draw each reedy breath through her mouth. The center of her face looked wrong. There, but... not right. Not exactly crumpled, but delicate and not filled out properly.

"What's with her face?" Sayaka asked dully. "Why won't she breathe through her nose?"

"She hasn't repaired enough of the underlying nasal cavity structure for it to be functional yet," Mr. Urahara said clinically. "What she has is essentially incomplete scaffolding. My best guess would be she didn't want to waste magic on it because her airway from her mouth was intact. The nasal passage would be redundant and she had more pressing things to address."

"Oh." That should probably worry Sayaka more than it did. Instead, it had the immediacy of a TV medical drama. Words words boring words; shut up and get to the part where you cleverly fix the patient.

Well, she was the one who had asked the question, Sayaka conceded. To herself. Was she arguing with herself now?

Mr. Urahara looked up at Sayaka and met her eyes. "This was a stab wound straight through her head with a large-ish blade, slight downward angle, front-to-back with a twist, was it not?"

"Yeah." Sayaka's voice sounded weird even to her. Detached.

With a sharp nod, Mr. Urahara looked down at Homura again. "Looks like she focused on the brain— parts of it, anyway— the eyes, the cranial structure to support them, and the muscles and nerves that control them; the occipital lobe; some surface structure to hold it all in... leaving the rest for later." Under his breath, he murmured, "Such fine control and priority assessment, in battle besides... but how was she able to think with this much frontal lobe damage...?" Louder, he asked, "Hitsugaya, she was able to speak and plan coherently? Problem-solve?"

"Yes."

"No apparent memory problems or personality changes? Irrationality?"

"No. Sharp as ever. All there. Just disoriented and sluggish in an exhausted way." Hitsugaya's mouth quirked wryly. "And aware of it. And pissed off by it. Able to accurately assess her flagging endurance and need for the Grief Seed then account for those in tactics. I never would've guessed she had brain damage."

"Fascinating."

Mr. Tsukabishi moved back over to Homura and lowered his own glowing hands to touch Homura's brow where his boss' had been. He gravely met Mr. Urahara's eyes. "Her skull is still eggshell thin there, but the damaged brain tissue beneath is... well, improved from its state half an hour ago. The bleeding's stopped. Still catastrophic."

Sayaka dry heaved. Catastrophic brain damage?! But she had been fighting just fine! Unwillingly, Sayaka's eyes drifted to the unidentified substance scattered in the blood clots in Homura's hair. She made an educated guess at its makeup and dry heaved again.

Mr. Tsukabishi then gently turned Homura's head and slipped his fingers to the point where Sōju's sword had exited. "Occipital lobe has improved even more. Cranium's closer to normal there, but still fragile. Better than it was, though."

"It's too slow," Mr. Urahara repeated.

Mr. Tsukabishi held his hands above Homura as though warming his fingers at a fire. He guided them around as though dowsing and wandered up to her left arm, then followed it down to Mr. Urahara's grip on her hand. "You were right. Connections all funnel through that arm. No wonder direct healing is difficult." He dropped his hands, sat back on his heels, and stared pensively. "It's as if... her heart chakra moved to her hand— her ring finger," Mr. Tsukabishi said slowly. "Her entire system is... restructured."

Mr. Urahara grunted unhappily. "I thought so. It's more apparent with the system stressed near to breaking. Wasn't as obvious in the twins. I need to study..." He tsked disappointedly. "Not now, though."

"We do have that spare Grief Seed," Mr. Tsukabishi suggested. "Perhaps purifying her will let her heal more efficiently."

"Perhaps. But I'd rather not use it up until I've studied it more." After another minute of frowning, Mr. Urahara sighed deeply. "Hitsugaya, retrieve Miss Inoue, please," he said curtly. "I'd rather not take unnecessary risks and this will go much more quickly with her aid."

Sayaka was about to ask who Miss Inoue was when Mr. Tsukabishi's hand covered her eyes and she relaxed into sleep.

§ x § x §

Sayaka shifted under her covers and rolled onto her front. She stretched and yawned blearily, then peeked out to find a clock. Her surroundings jarred her fully awake. This was that room in the magic shop, and her friends—

Stressed near to breaking—

Catastrophic—

Near to breaking—

She levered herself up on her elbows, desperately searching for her friends. The other three girls were all there. They were all clean and whole— healed. Mami was eerily still and glowing green, but Madoka and Homura appeared to just be in deep, peaceful sleep. Relieved, Sayaka's arms and legs gave out and she flopped onto the futon once more. After a moment of thought, she flipped herself and searched her own body. No wounds. No blood stains or bullet holes in her uniform, either. Had she been dreaming?

"—Miki? Are you with me, Miss Miki?"

Sayaka turned her head on her pillow to find the source of Mr. Urahara's voice. He was sitting cross-legged near a wall, cradling a steaming teacup in his hands beside a low table bearing a tea set. His face was solemn but kind as he rubbed one finger around the rim of his cup. Somehow, his lack of weird bucket hat struck her as a sign that he was deathly serious.

"Y-yeah," Sayaka stammered. She shyly pressed her head into her pillow. "Um, did that— did that all really happen?"

"The carousel labyrinth and the battle within it?" he asked quietly. "Yes, unfortunately."

Sayaka squirmed uncomfortably, then sat up on her knees and hugged her blanket around her. She glanced at her friends and back again. "Will they be okay?"

"Physically, yes. Psychologically, I cannot say," Mr. Urahara answered easily. "Miss Tomoe is in stasis because her Soul Gem is missing. Do you know where it is?"

Sayaka held a hand over her eyes and took a steadying breath as she thought back to the moments before Mami's barrier around them had collapsed. "That white and purple magical girl Stranger Danger told us about grabbed it off her head. Homura fought her for it but things got really crazy and—" Her eyes teared up of their own accord. She had seen the jet of blood from Homura's neck; had seen that sword skewering Homura's head and the way the magical girl kept fighting despite it, movements drunken but effective as she glowed violet.

Catastrophic—

Near to breaking—

The whole "immortal puppet if the Soul Gem is intact" thing Homura had sketched out for them was hard reality.

After a long silence, Mr. Urahara delicately said, "My nephew told me about the end. I apologize for asking, but you are the only one who has regained consciousness. Can you tell me how you came to be as you were?"

Sayaka shuddered and stared at him in haunted silence. Magic Man tilted his head in consideration and waved a hand in invitation, urging her over to the table. She crawled over with her blanket and plopped herself down across from him as he poured her a cup of tea. Sayaka took the cup gratefully and focused on it as she haltingly recounted what she could remember. He never interrupted her or judged her, simply humming his understanding at points when she struggled to put things into words. When she was done, he didn't pry for more; he thanked her and went quiet. Sayaka looked up at him and found the man contemplating the surface of his tea with a troubled frown.

"Um. Thank you for helping us," Sayaka mumbled. "Healing us?"

Mr. Urahara glanced up at her, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh? You are quite welcome, Miss Miki. But Tessai and I merely stabilized you. The bulk of the work fell to Miss Inoue."

Sayaka followed his faintly amused glance across the room to a futon and occupant she hadn't noticed. A young woman— college-age?— was sprawled across it, long auburn hair disheveled. Her lips were parted and she was drooling. The two silvery hairpins tucked near her ear caught Sayaka's attention, but she couldn't say why. They were just stylized flowers or snowflakes. Nothing really remarkable.

"She is a superb healer," Mr. Urahara explained. "I sent my nephew to fetch her. We took measures to ensure that the Incubators don't notice her. Please never speak of her outside of this building. None of us want her to be targeted."

Sayaka turned her gaze back to the shopkeeper. "Is she a magical girl?"

"No. She's like my business partner and nephew. She learned how to use her magic herself."

With sudden intense interest, Sayaka demanded, "Can I?" She was nursing a mounting hatred of the Incubator and the magical girl who had messed them all up. Power to fight and be an asset instead of a liability was something she now burned for. She didn't want to be the weakest link anymore. It was worth working for, studying for, dedicating herself to.

"Perhaps," he said. "But I think that is a topic for another day."

Sayaka wilted. "Right." She stared at her empty teacup; she could feel Mr. Urahara's eyes on her but it somehow felt reassuring instead of uncomfortable.

After a pleasant silence, Mr. Urahara said, "By the way, I apologize for accessing your phone. I used it to message your parents as if I was you to tell them you were staying the night with Miss Akemi so they wouldn't worry. I read some of your previous messages to your parents so I could imitate you convincingly. I said that you all ate something that disagreed with you and you decided to just stay where you were and go to school together in the morning. Just so you know."

Sayaka stared at him blankly. "What?"

The shopkeeper's smile was more than a touch rueful. "It's now almost three in the morning between Wednesday and Thursday, Miss Miki. I didn't want you reported missing."

"Oh. Thanks, I guess." She stopped, shook herself as she realized the rudeness, and sat straighter. "I mean, thanks a lot."

"I am happy to help," the shopkeeper said with a warmer smile.

Sayaka decided that, as nuts as he had been on first meeting, she kinda liked the guy.

The giant Mr. Tsukabishi brought them more tea and fussed over her for a bit, then brought her food. Sayaka had no appetite— bones twisting, stabbing and itching from head to toe as scales burst from her skin and— but she also didn't want to be rude to the people who had saved them, so she forced herself to eat. She was halfway through picking at her noodles when Madoka stirred. Sayaka was at her side in an instant, watching her blearily rise into awareness and remember what had happened. When the tears came, Sayaka opened her arms wide to invite Madoka into a hug. Madoka launched herself at Sayaka and clung to her as she cried. Sayaka held her gently and felt perversely better about everything. At least she could be useful this way.

Mr. Urahara stayed where he was, silent and melancholy as he watched them. Sayaka got the distinct impression that he was treating them like glass he didn't want to break, like a house of cards that would collapse if he moved just wrong or too quickly. If she was right... well, she supposed he wasn't wrong.

Hiccuping, Madoka looked around, choked on a sob at Mami's deathlike stillness, then gasped at the sight of Homura. She untangled herself from Sayaka's arms and clumsily crawled to their friend with a stammered, "Homu— Homura— is she— she's ali-ive? Is she-e a-live? I-is she—?"

"Definitely," Sayaka said with conviction. Their friend didn't look like death anymore, skin no longer waxen and lips no longer blue. Homura's rosy lips and flushed cheeks were a testament to the restoration of her blood and the center of her face was back to normal, breath through her nose silent and easy. Sayaka had seen her essentially dead— had Homura not been a magical girl, she would have died thrice over— so she knew just how wonderfully alive Homura was.

"Her head was— h-er hea-ead was— her head— sword— th-the blood— blood—"

Sayaka rubbed Madoka's back as her friend's hands flitted over Homura's face and neck in frightened search for signs of the mortal wounds that were no longer there.

"Homura? Ho-mura? Ho-oh-mu-ra?"

Homura shifted in her sleep and turned her head into Madoka's hand with a sigh. Her eyelids fluttered and she breathed, "Ma... do... ka...?"

"Homura!"

But Homura had already faded back into deeper sleep again. Madoka's body sagged with relief all the same.

After another minute, Sayaka coaxed Madoka over to Mr. Urahara's table. Mr. Tsukabishi appeared as though summoned and brought Madoka her own cup of the herbal tea they had been drinking. Mr. Urahara spoke equally gently with Madoka to get her own version of events. Sayaka was shamefully relieved that Madoka showed signs of also having lingering sensations from their ordeal— she kept rubbing her shoulder and elbow, brushing her fingers along the leg that had snapped so badly.

"I must apologize to you both," Magic Man said gravely. "It is largely my fault Miss Akemi was unable to get to you more quickly."

Both girls frowned in confusion. "How?"

"When Miss Kaname called Miss Akemi, I had taken her into a chamber beneath the shop for training."

"Beneath?" Sayaka said quizzically, looking down at the floorboards.

"Beneath," Mr. Urahara repeated. "There was no cell reception. She got your messages when we emerged. Tessai sensed Miss Tomoe transform and fetched us in case we wanted to react somehow. Miss Akemi was gone without a word as soon as one of your voicemails gave her a location. We were slower to follow." He looked down into his tea, then met their eyes seriously. "It is a mistake we will not repeat."

There wasn't really anything that could be said to that, so they were silent for awhile.

"What happens now?" Madoka asked as she picked at her own bowl of food, which Mr. Tsukabishi had placed before her as he gave both looks that commanded them to eat everything without speaking a word.

"I hunt down Ayase Sōju, retrieve Mami's soul, and crush Sōju's Soul Gem into dust," Homura's voice snarled from behind them.

Magic Man didn't look surprised, but Sayaka and Madoka whirled around to look back at the futons. Homura was pulling herself up to her knees slowly, her movements taut with threat like a panther on the hunt, face drawn with hate. Rage made her eyes seem brighter than usual— was that a shimmer of violet magic?— and the air in the room felt heavy.

"I'll have your back," Hitsugaya's grim voice said from the other direction. The girls turned and saw him take a place leaning on the door jamb with his arms crossed.

Homura stared at him with that wide-eyed, near-feral expression for a long minute. It honestly frightened Sayaka.

"Her fire versus my ice and water, Akemi," Hitsugaya replied to an unspoken argument. "Besides, she'll have a harder time getting the drop on us if we're looking out for each other. Sneak attacks on your back don't work when someone's watching your back for you."

Homura's face shifted to grudging acceptance.

Tessai brought another bowl of food for Homura, but Homura stayed where she was, looking ominous as she ran her fingers over her Soul Gem ring. Somehow, Sayaka was strongly reminded of Midnight the Conqueror whenever the cat was near the Incubator.

"Come eat, Miss Akemi," Mr. Urahara finally said.

"No."

"Your magic has been restored and your body repaired, but you still need to fuel your body, you know."

"It is fine." Homura shifted restlessly and cast about the room for exits like a caged animal. "I need to go hunting."

Mr. Urahara was frowning now. "Your body will use less magic if you fuel it conventionally. You should probably rest it more, too."

"It will perform well without any additional care," Homura said dismissively as she climbed to her feet.

Sayaka was creeped out by the way they spoke of Homura's body as an object. Like she was having car trouble.

Madoka pursed her lips with concern and said, "Please come eat, Homura."

Incredibly, the magical girl who seemed ready to charge out on the hunt paused and turned to Madoka with a doubtful frown.

"Please?" Madoka repeated, eyes tearing up.

Tension bled from Homura. "All right."

Sayaka met Magic Man's eyes and was glad he seemed to be as surprised as she was, though he limited his expression to one lifted eyebrow. She thought back to their interactions since they had met; how Homura behaved with Madoka. Little invitations, small requests, tiny smiles. A slow realization blossomed: It seemed like Madoka could say jump and Homura would be in the air before how high? could leave her lips. Mr. Urahara was darting his eyes from Madoka to Homura and back again, thoughtful, and Sayaka figured he was coming to the same conclusion as Madoka fussed over Homura and cajoled her into eating and drinking.

Around four, Mr. Urahara said, "Why don't you girls go to bed?" There was a command beneath the suggestion.

Homura bristled but Madoka declared it a good idea and dragged Homura to the futons. Madoka crossed her arms and pouted at Homura until she sighed and bedded down. They generally reminded Sayaka of a girl and her sulky cat.

Sayaka climbed into her own futon and wondered how she would ever sleep again. Just before Magic Man cut the lights, she noticed that Miss Inoue was in the same position as earlier but no longer asleep. Instead, gentle gray eyes watched them with something like pity.

§ x § x §

Orihime Inoue was gone when Homura woke, which made her feel surprisingly disappointed. She thought Inoue would probably get along well with Madoka and Sayaka. Would probably be much better at soothing them than Homura herself was. Homura knew she was terrible at it. Madoka had fussed over everyone all morning and Homura's attempts to reassure her only made her more tearful. In retrospect, things like "do not worry, I have recovered from far worse head wounds in the past" and "at least Mami will have an intact body to come back to" had been really, really awful things to say to innocents like Madoka. Probably would have horrified her own pre-contract self. These days, her concept of reassurance was skewed. Must be even worse than she thought, judging by the sideways glances Hitsugaya and Urahara kept giving her. Even Mr. Tsukabishi was better at soothing her friends' occasional crying jags than Homura was. It was safer to keep her mouth shut.

Madoka and Sayaka texted their parents to say they had overslept but were feeling better than they had. They said they were helping Homura clean the mess they had made, might take a nap, and would come home by dinner. They then spent the morning bustling around after Mr. Tsukabishi like ducklings as he did shop things to distract them.

Homura was convinced to convene a debriefing and strategy session with Urahara and Hitsugaya. They raked over every detail Homura remembered of the fight the night before. Then Urahara brought out the item that Hitsugaya said he had seen fall from the incomplete Mermaid Witch upon defeat— the item which Sayaka had apparently told them Sōju had slammed into her forehead with the confusing palm strike.

It strongly resembled a Grief Seed in both look and feel. The silver filigree cage that usually framed the blackened Soul Gem in the center of a Grief Seed was empty and warped as though the silver had been heated and twisted. In the empty center, there was a much smaller gem that had a taijitu-like swirl, a meeting and balancing of black and gray held suspended by black brambles. The ornament on top was a silver Möbius strip and the silver spindle at its base was warped into a squiggle. It felt like concentrated Witch magic... yet not.

"Have you ever seen the like, Miss Akemi?" Urahara asked.

Shaking her head slowly, Homura answered, "No. Never."

"It seems like a lot of new things are happening to you this time," Hitsugaya said uneasily.

"Yes. I hate it." She halfheartedly directed a resentful glance at Urahara, but the man blithely ignored it.

Urahara set the item on the table, balanced on its spindle. "It would seem this item is what caused Miss Miki's transformation. I'll have to do more study on it. For now, it would appear to be an imitation or derivative of a Grief Seed."

Homura and Hitsugaya stared at him. Hitsugaya spoke for them both. "I don't like it." He looked at Homura. "You know who could pull off something like this?"

"No."

He shifted, frowned harder, and asked, "If it does this to someone who isn't contracted... what happens when applied to an actual magical girl?" Hitsugaya paused, then looked up and added, "Or even a shinigami?"

The question settled over the table with a near-physical weight. Instead of answering, Urahara dipped his chin so his hat shadowed his face and said, "Take care to never be hit with one of these."

Afterward, Homura took to the rooftops with Hitsugaya. First they stopped at her townhouse to make a show of attending to Yoruichi so they could quietly brief her indoors before she went roaming again. Then they leapt up and patrolled. They took care to be far enough apart for it to be difficult to hit both with a single attack and constantly shuffled their positions relative to one another to make their movements less predictable. Homura found Hitsugaya an excellent patrol partner. Always focused, never chattering, mission-oriented; beneath that, his magic made her think of feeling hunted in a whiteout blizzard. He was as coldly enraged as she was. Excellent.

They crossed into Kazamino on and off. In early afternoon, they encountered the childish green Familiar labyrinth containing the Scribbling Witch's minions. The duo tore through the enemies like a hot knife through butter with brutal efficiency. Homura, further pleased by the ease of their teamwork, described the Witch whose Familiars they had destroyed in case they stumbled upon the main labyrinth. While she spoke, her phone rang. Madoka. She picked up.

"Homura! We forgot! Nagisa's mom's funeral is today!"

It had completely slipped her mind. Homura frowned at the phone. "I have other priorities right now, Madoka."

"But what if Sōju goes after her?"

Homura paused. If Sōju managed to turn Nagisa into the Sweets Witch, Homura would almost have to let Hitsugaya send her on; but that would give them away to the Incubator if it was watching labyrinths. If she retrieved the Grief Seed, she didn't want the Incubator to know they were capable of reversing the process by letting Nagisa go. They hadn't experimented on if a soul could be sent on by zanpakutō contact with the pure Grief Seed or if they'd need to spawn the Witch first. They could experiment on her Grief Seed while hidden in the shop, but it was harder when Homura could put a face to the soul. If they wanted to maintain secrecy without just shelving her Grief Seed, the only other solid options should she turn and be recovered would be to ship her out to Karakura or for the girl to hide in the interminable halls of the magic shop, never seeing light of day. She didn't know the girl's demeanor, but would bet big money on her chafing and going out by herself and ruining everything. If she got turned into a Witch, it would be one more battle to waste time on, one more distraction. It would be easier for everyone if they convinced Nagisa to lay low until they could neutralize Sōju. They needed to drill caution into her even if it meant frightening her— and Homura couldn't count on Sayaka and Madoka to be intimidating.

"I will accompany you," she said grimly. "Put Urahara on the phone."

After a terse discussion, Homura and Hitsugaya returned to the shop. When the three girls set out, Hitsugaya and Urahara shadowed them from just within sight along the rooftops and served as sentries around the funeral parlor.

Nagisa looked so painfully grateful at their arrival and her magic quivered with such heartbroken relief when Madoka hugged her for a solid five minutes that Homura was reminded of herself once more. Standing in a room full of strange adults she didn't know and a single relative who didn't care about her enough to even put a hand on her shoulder, watching the flower-covered caskets containing her parents, trying not to scratch at the lace collar of her black dress, wishing someone would just hold her. If only she had known Madoka back then...

At least Nagisa's father hovered over her like she was the most precious thing in the world to him. That was something. And he actually greeted Homura, Madoka, and Sayaka and thanked them for taking care of his daughter the day security had found her with them. He was the kind of father who paid attention to who did right by his little girl. If Nagisa's Soul Gem could be kept clean, she should have enough emotional support to have a decent chance of coming through this without turning into a Witch.

Homura's mind wandered as they primly sat through the service. It was a chance to really think about the day before— when she had been unable to receive Madoka's calls. Urahara had led her down into the twisting halls of the shop and into a lab. There he had described the research he had been doing in greater detail. She had drunk in his every word until he showed her a Grief Seed he had been running tests on.

"Wait— isn't that the Grief Seed from the Witch in Karakura?"

"Indeed it is."

"But... Inoue reversed the transformation, did she not?"

"Indeed she did."

"Then how...?"

Urahara's face was neutrally clinical as he met her eyes and said, "I placed the Soul Gem into the hand of a gigai to study the mechanism of attachment. Tests were inconclusive— I need to refine my instruments. The magical girl reacted poorly. She did try to cooperate, but she soon went mad and turned back into a Witch. I made a point of defeating her with kidō to avoid sending her on. I got valuable information from the entire process."

Homura scowled and looked at him askance. "You told Karin you would not do that."

"I said no such thing," Urahara said in a deliberate echo of her words from weeks before. The shopkeeper's faint smile was chilling. "I said I understood her objection. Not that I wouldn't do it."

They stared at one another for a long while. At length, Homura firmed her face and gave him one sharp nod. If the knowledge gained helped save Madoka in the end, it was acceptable.

The Kurosaki girls had once told her that Urahara was capable of morally questionable things. Homura understood now. The secret was a morally gray tie between them. They both knew they couldn't approach Inoue to reverse the transformation again— she would probably balk at what had been done and possibly blab it to others who would be furious. Tsukabishi knew, but he was loyal to Urahara. Hitsugaya knew, but he was a professional soldier— a commanding officer— who agreed that there were times and places for distasteful methods. He obviously didn't like what Urahara had done one bit, but he limited himself to sideways glances of judgment and kept his mouth shut.

After the memorial service, they all saw Nagisa fidgeting uncomfortably and trying not to cry as a parade of adults spoke with her father. Though Mr. Momoe kept a comforting hand on his daughter's shoulder, there were no other guests anywhere near Nagisa's age. The vast majority seemed to be business acquaintances of the deceased going through formalities— something Homura was intimately and resentfully familiar with. Madoka looked progressively more indignant at how the adults were barely glancing at the bereaved girl leaning against her father; she finally looked at Nagisa stubbornly and opened her arms in invitation. Nagisa's face crumpled and she dodged through adults to throw herself into Madoka's arms. Madoka hugged and rocked her, hushing and soothing.

It felt a bit odd that it was Madoka taking the position of team mom this time around. That fell to Mami ninety-nine percent of the time.

Sayaka frowned protectively and waved to catch the attention of Nagisa's father beyond the crowd. When he was looking, she pointed to Nagisa, gestured to the other girls, and used two fingers to mime walking toward the door; then she pulled her phone out of a pocket and wiggled it in the air while gesturing at Nagisa— call her, or we'll have her call you. Afterward, she cocked her head and raised her brows as though she had asked a question. The man paused, looked down at his daughter plastered to Madoka, then looked up and nodded tiredly. Sayaka offered him a thin smile and nodded back at him.

Homura led them as they shepherded Nagisa to a park with a picnic table in a wide open area where it would be difficult to pull off a sneak attack. She felt Urahara and Hitsugaya darting around a perimeter, their positions shifting and shuffling at random intervals. Sayaka and Homura sat quietly while Madoka continued to comfort Nagisa until her sobs downgraded into tearful hiccups.

"I apologize," Homura began delicately, "But I have a warning to impart to you."

Nagisa sniffled and rubbed her eyes. "Wha-what is it?"

"There is a new magical girl in the city. Her name is Ayase Sōju. She is attacking other magical girls." Homura paused and considered an idea. Mami was well-known in the area... "Have you ever met a blonde magical girl who wears yellow and fights with guns and ribbons?"

The little girl startled. "Oh! Miss Mami? One time! She was nice! She explained some things and said I could ask Kyubey to find her if I need help!"

"Yes, she is nice," Homura said agreeably. Had Nagisa always met Mami? Mami had never mentioned it, if she had. That would be morbidly interesting. "The new magical girl stole Tomoe's Soul Gem in a fight last night." She paused. Needed to be scarier. "And nearly killed me while trying to steal mine. My Soul Gem nearly turned black from the magic consumed to heal and fight. Without my... allies, I probably would have died." God, she hated admitting it.

"Seriously," Sayaka muttered lowly. "Sōju set a labyrinth on fire and attacked Mami from behind. When Stranger Danger tried to get the Soul Gem back, the other girl almost took her head off then stabbed her in the face. Like, straight through her head." She made a sharp thrusting motion toward the little girl's face with her hand, rigidly imitating a sword's movement. "Then she stuffed a fake Grief Seed in my face and turned me into a monster so she could get away. Homura had to shoot me in the face to turn me back to normal."

Homura eyed her neutrally. She actually hadn't expected Sayaka to get in on the intimidation game— especially even more graphically than Homura herself. Maybe she was angling for scaring the girl in an expression of protectiveness?

Nagisa's face contorted in horrified fear. "What— what do I do?!"

"Do not transform or enter a labyrinth unless you absolutely have to," Homura replied. She tugged a business card out of her pocket and offered it to Nagisa. "This is the address and phone number of a shop owned by some friends of mine. They know about magical girls and have protections on the premises. If you feel threatened, go there and you will be protected."

Nagisa timidly took the card and stared at it. After a bit, she looked up worriedly and asked, "What if I can't get there?"

"Then transform and shield your Soul Gem. Run away while flaring your magic as much as you can to get my attention." Homura tilted her head and thought. "Where is your Soul Gem located when you transform?"

"My tummy," Nagisa said shyly.

Tummy. Stomach. Eating. Eating cheesecake. Like the Sweets Witch's tendency to eat Mami. Knowing Nagisa Momoe was going to be deeply awkward.

"And what kind of magic do you have?"

Nagisa blushed and fidgeted. "Bubbles."

...What?

"How is bubbles a kind of magic?" Sayaka asked.

"Um, I blow them with my horn and..." Nagisa made vague hand gestures.

"Horn?" Madoka asked.

Homura could feel that she was staring. Bubbles?

"I can transform and show you?" She sounded cautiously hopeful. At Homura's nod— she was too damn curious— Nagisa clambered off the picnic bench and triggered her transformation.

White bubbles burst from her Soul Gem and swirled around her, shimmering into shades of orange and brown. The bubbles popped into a series of white sigils and left her magical girl outfit behind in a confetti-fall of sparkles. Her coral poncho trimmed with white fluff was the most eye-catching part of her costume. Everything else was muted, earthy shades of chocolate-brown. Short, puffy milk chocolate bloomers were held up by suspenders, each fastened with a dark coral bow. Dark chocolate stockings with light polka dots covered the entirety of her legs and ended in dark coral slippers. Atop her head was a fluffy dark chocolate hat with catlike ears and dangling pompoms. Long fingerless gloves covered her arms. Nagisa held one hand up. A white, circular design glowed in the air, popped like a bubble and a child's toy trumpet fell into her hand.

Homura had to stop herself from attacking the weapon on reflex. With its red polka dots on a black background, medical cross, and red and blue feather decorations, it was obviously the source of the Sweets Witch's aesthetic. That combination of shapes and colors triggered a violent reaction Homura forced herself to suppress just as violently. She gripped the edge of the table so hard the rough wood bit into her fingers. The pain grounded her.

Nagisa put the trumpet to her lips and blew it while pointed straight up. A stream of bubbles gushed forth above them and popped into white sigils with explosive force. It was absolutely, one hundred percent not something Homura had expected. The Mermaid Witch wielded cutlasses like Sayaka; the Wǔdàn Witch wielded a spear like Kyōko; and the Dress-Up Witch had ribbons like Mami. Bubbles and a trumpet that sounded like a high-pitched kazoo? She couldn't connect them to the Sweets Witch aside from sheer childishness. Maybe that was it? Her outfit's colors were reminiscent of her Witch's initial plushie form, though. But less pink. Wait, Momoe had been wearing pink when they found her. Hmm. Maybe the tie was Nagisa's trumpet being associated with the mouth, meaning she technically attacked with her mouth? Or the way the clownish hellworm always emerged from the plushie's mouth?

"Exploding bubbles?" Sayaka said as though surprised by being impressed. "Huh."

Homura idly wondered if the technique would be useful in particular situations, but set that aside for later consideration. "Do you know how to make a barrier?"

"Yes! Mami helped me figure it out!" Nagisa chirped. She lowered her trumpet and blew straight in front of her. A giant bubble wiggled out from it and snapped into a perfect globe around her, its surface shimmering with the same white filigree as the sigils her attack bubbles used. The girl looked at Homura hopefully, like a puppy seeking praise for doing a trick.

"Excellent," Homura said with a grim smile. "Do you have enough control to always hold a small one around your Soul Gem?" She triggered her own transformation with a thought and held up her hand. When her swirling violet barrier encircled her Soul Gem, she said, "Like this?"

Nagisa looked down at the space beneath her navel where her tiny Soul Gem was positioned like a belt buckle. "Ummmmmmm. Let me try?"

The older girls sat and watched her make faces and stick her tongue out in thought while she experimented. Homura murmured advice now and then. The younger girl eventually settled on blowing a small bubble with her trumpet, catching it on the tip of one finger, then pressing it over her Soul Gem. Again, she looked up with those puppy eyes and a tentative smile.

With some difficulty, Homura offered her a warmer smile. It felt brittle even to her. "Good. How long can you maintain it?"

"Ummmm. I dunno. I have to really think about it to keep it from popping."

Homura nodded in a show of thought. "If Ayase Sōju attacks you, your first priority is to shield your Soul Gem. Your second priority is to flare your magic to attract attention to your location. Your third priority is to run for the address I gave you and cross the property line. Do you understand?"

Nagisa clutched her fists to her chest and nodded earnestly. Then she fidgeted and asked, "Is Miss Mami okay?"

Homura and her friends went utterly still. Nagisa's face fell with dread. Homura finally said, "If I don't recover her Soul Gem, she will die. All magical girls die if separated from their Soul Gems too long— or if they are broken."

Nagisa's face contorted in terror and she held a hand over her Gem. Homura was surprised Madoka and Sayaka didn't object to how frighteningly blunt she was being with the girl. The previous night must have shaken them to their cores.

After some fretting, Nagisa looked up at Homura and declared, "I want to help her!" Her eyes were still terrified, but she added, "Mami saved me from my first Witch! I want to save her!"

So Mami had probably saved her in other timelines. Then gotten eaten by her. Again: Knowing Nagisa Momoe was going to be deeply awkward.

Homura considered her words carefully. "You are a very new, very young, inexperienced magical girl. Sōju has far more practice in battle." She stopped herself from saying you'll just get in my way. "I do not want to put you in unnecessary danger. I am concerned that you would be overwhelmed. Tomoe would not want you to risk yourself for her sake. She would blame herself if you were injured— or worse."

Nagisa deflated and looked at her feet. "I just wanna help," she mumbled.

"Then be alert and call me if you find a labyrinth," Homura said. She could feel her patience slipping. She shifted irritably, then thought of something and pulled her spare phone out of her shield. She tapped around and held the screen up to Nagisa. "This is Ayase Sōju. If you see her, get away and call me even if she is not transformed. Memorize this face. If you see her lurking around somewhere pretending to be normal, you could help us find her more quickly and save Tomoe."

Nagisa moved closer and intensely stared at the screen. She stared so long that Homura started shifting restlessly. Madoka noticed.

"If you think you have it memorized, I think we should let Homura go. I know she's very anxious to get Mami's Soul Gem back."

Nagisa drew in a sharp breath and hopped backward. She dropped her transformation and mumbled, "S-sorry to waste your time."

"It wasn't a waste at all," Madoka said gently, smile sunny. Homura wasn't so sure about that, but whatever. Madoka stood and hugged Nagisa. "Homura will be very busy, but if you need to talk to anyone you can call me, okay?"

Homura also dropped her transformation. After escorting Nagisa back to her father, they turned back to the magic shop. Hitsugaya and Urahara joined them at a dining table in yet another room as Tessai served them all tea. Homura was impatient to leave, but Madoka gave her a look and she sat down.

"Did you finish them, Tessai?" Urahara asked.

"Yes. I'll fetch them."

"Finished what?" Sayaka asked when the man was gone.

"The magic charms I promised you," Urahara answered. "Once you were all healed and asleep, we threw ourselves into making them more quickly. Your need became more dire overnight."

Tessai returned and gravely gave Madoka and Sayaka each a small box that felt steeped in magic. Homura watched intently as her friends opened them. Each box contained a bracelet made of colorful beads. Madoka held hers up to sparkle in the light. Sayaka brought hers close to her face and scrutinized the stones.

"Is there... writing carved on this?"

"Yes." Urahara snapped open his fan and held it to his face as he turned aside with blatantly fake modesty. "I fancy myself a bit of a lapidary."

"A say what now?"

"Gem-cutter," Tessai said with a smile. "He cheats with... magic, though."

Urahara pouted and looked wounded. "It's not cheating if I invented the tools myself, Tessaaaaiiii. Then it's just ingenuity."

"If you say so, Boss." The big man's eyes gleamed behind his glasses.

Homura got the distinct impression she had stumbled into an inside joke between friends.

"So, what is this, anyway?" Sayaka asked.

"A collection of semiprecious stones imbued with various magic spells to work together as a system," Urahara explained. "Largely the more useful varieties of calcite and topaz."

"Useful?" Madoka asked doubtfully as Sayaka stared at Urahara with the blankness of not understanding a word he had said.

"All forms of calcite amplify magic and purify negative energies; various colors have more specific properties. I intend them to help your own magic resist Witch lures and the effects of labyrinths— to enhance your natural resistance," Urahara lectured. "Then I anchored a strong shield in a few varieties of topaz, which is excellent for rejection of negative magic and protection from danger. Additionally, I set the trigger mechanism in malachite. The opaque green one." Madoka and Sayaka shuffled their bracelets around to find it. "When you are faced with magical danger, that bead will shatter and trigger the shield. The shield will be independent of your magic. Do you see how every other bead in the strand is clear with some white streaks, like ice?" Both girls nodded. "Those are quartz. I had Tessai charge them as reservoirs of magic. Think magical batteries." Urahara's mouth turned up into a razor sharp grin. "The power released will be intense enough for any of us—" he gestured at himself, Tessai, Hitsugaya, and Homura— "to sense it as a distress beacon."

Homura's inner Karin grumbled sounds like New Agey bullshit, but she kept her mouth shut.

Rolling the beads around in her fingers, Madoka softly said, "It feels... really tingly. And nice."

Sayaka went still and squeezed her own beads. She closed her eyes and looked like she was straining to hear something. "Yeah... a little bit. I think?"

"So you both are aware enough to sense external magic," Urahara said as though pleasantly surprised. "Excellent."

After Homura helped her friends put on their charms— which did buzz with potent magic that gave her goosebumps— she and Hitsugaya escorted them home to their worried parents. Madoka and Sayaka didn't have to fake feeling out of sorts. Homura made herself look exhausted as a show for the parents and kept her eyes averted to apologize for getting them all sick with bad food. Madoka's father had patted her shoulder and soothed her with it's all right, it happens to everyone who cooks at some point, then cheerfully changed the subject to remark upon his daughter's new bracelet to spare her feelings.

Faking out Madoka's parents didn't used to bother Homura as much as it did since meeting everyone in Karakura. She didn't like the weakness.

Homura and Hitsugaya patrolled their way back to the magic shop to check in before another round of extended searching. They found Urahara waiting on the doorstep for them.

"Did the parents go for it?"

"Yeah," Hitsugaya said. "Let's hurry this up."

Urahara bared his teeth in a grim smile and waved for them to follow him inside.

Homura refused to sit at the table again, impatient to leave. "What were those bracelets really?"

One brow arched, Urahara said, "Exactly what I said they were. Just in a different way than I described and fancier than necessary."

"I've seen protective charms like that before," Hitsugaya said quietly as he sat down to tea. "Captain Shiba once made me something similar but far simpler back when I was inexperienced at fighting and suppressing my reiatsu at the same time— I had so much that I kept inadvertently attracting more Hollows than I could handle when on assignment. Captain Shiba embedded a charm in a bronze medallion and designed it to use my own reiatsu as a power source."

Urahara grinned and pointed his folded fan at the boy. "Isshin is indeed talented at making protective trinkets. It's one of the lesser-known specialties of the Shiba clan, along with wards. Comes in handy with all the spiritual explosives they store and handle. Isshin even made a charm for Kon back during the war. He uses metal tags on small pouches of a power source since he moved to the World of the Living."

"Why didn't you do that, then?" Hitsugaya asked with narrowed eyes.

"What I made was more complex and required more surface area. The structure would have worked if I layered tags of etched metallic foil but I thought they'd be more comfortable wearing something cute. Easier for them to explain away, too." Urahara dipped his chin so his hat shadowed his face. "Besides, I was able to build in some extra bells and whistles with the added support of crystalline structure. Crystal is a wonderful amplifier." He lifted his chin and turned cheerful again. Waving his fan with one hand and making a V-for-victory sign in the other, he crowed, "I also tacked on a Hollow repellent and embedded the spiritual equivalent of a GPS tracker in each of them ahahahahahaha~~~"

Homura met Hitsugaya's deadpan look with one of her own.

The pair took to the rooftops again and roved the city through the night. No sign of Sōju, but Homura wasn't particularly surprised. The magical girl was probably laying low to heal. She'd definitely need Grief Seeds to replenish herself afterward, though, and that would eventually force her out. Hours passed as they searched. When they had come up with nothing by the time the sky began to lighten, Hitsugaya insisted upon returning to the shop to rest and check in for updates. Homura initially refused.

"You need to rest your body so your reiatsu— magic— doesn't have to work as hard to support it, Akemi," he eventually snapped. "Even Kaname understood that despite complete lack of experience. Even captains who have the endurance to fight for days without stopping avoid it if possible specifically to conserve resources. Wasting energy on something so easily handled otherwise is beneath your intelligence."

Homura hated that he had a point, but reluctantly retreated for food and sleep all the same.

§ x § x §

When Homura woke, it was late afternoon and she had a sneaking suspicion Urahara or Tsukabishi had hit her with something to make her sleep longer. Hitsugaya was gone, having slept then decided to attend school late with a story about some minor moving-related crisis at home to avoid a suspicious number of absences among their group and keep an eye on Madoka and Sayaka.

Hitsugaya returned to the shop shortly after Homura woke, having escorted Madoka and Sayaka home. He tossed his school bag aside, nodded once at Homura, and they both took off to patrol without a word. Several hours later, their search pattern took them into Kazamino and they encountered the Scribbling Witch's true labyrinth. The two of them made short work of the childish crayon-drawing creatures and defeated the porcelain-clown-doll-like Witch with businesslike efficiency while warily watching for Sōju to pop out from behind building blocks or notebooks. Homura was relieved to have a fresh Grief Seed on hand.

They patrolled into the wee hours of Saturday morning without encountering anything or anyone else. Homura allowed herself to be convinced to return to the shop to rest and attend school for the half day to keep adults from nosing around. Personally, she thought that if the school administration had gone weeks without investigating Mami's absences in other timelines, she could get away with not going; but the way events kept happening so differently this time made her wary enough to give in. They didn't need any more complications.

Homura moved through the school day in stony silence and allowed her bad mood to show enough to make other students stay the hell away from her. She avoided being called to the board by death-glaring at various teachers and had no patience, so much cold rage and frustration flowing through her veins that even Madoka and Sayaka were intimidated.

When the school bell rang to end the day, Homura took off like a shot, met Hitsugaya at the front door, and hurried into the trees to shove their school things into her shield and immediately take to the rooftops again. They monitored their friends' routes home then resumed their search pattern.

Every minute Sōju delayed their confrontation only made Homura obsess over their impending battle in greater and deeper detail. Made her cycle through anger at Sōju and herself. Made her fantasize about the spinel at Sōju's shoulder shattering into a millionbilliontrillion pieces.

She should have shot Sōju's Soul Gem in the alley when she had the chance. Acquiring new allies had made her soft. Homura vowed to correct that mistake with extreme prejudice.

§ x § x §

§ x § x §

§ x § x §

A/N: one step forward, two steps back

My chapters always get so much longer when the plot picks up. *side-eyeing myself*

This chapter was replaced with an edited version on November 1, 2019. Reviews with timestamps before that date refer to a slightly different version of the chapter.