Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

She stays home again. She doesn’t feel as bad as the day prior. She wants to go to school, actually. It’s a restlessness that sits in her stomach. She paces around the house until her father finally deems her fit to go to school after lunch. She cheers.

Unfortunately, school is the same as it’s ever been. She taps her foot impatiently and watches the empty hallways.

Sayaka and Hitomi watch her with growing concern, but she pays them little mind, distracted as she is.

By 17:04, the feeling is gone. She stares off into space. She’s waiting for something.

-

The day after this is much the same, except that she doesn’t skip the morning classes. School is monotonous. Miss Saotome gushes about her boyfriend for a minute shorter than usual. She keeps glancing out the glass walls, doodling circles into her notebooks.

The day after that is the same. And the one after that is the same. She drifts through the week like a raft on the waves.

Without knowing how, Sayaka’s boxing her in a cafe booth. Hitomi sits across from them with a small, encouraging smile. Her phone is face down on the table.

“Alright, Madoka ! Spill.”

“Uh ?”

“You’ve been really distracted and kinda ignoring us !”

Madoka blinks. “Uh,” she says intelligently. Hitomi’s silently staring at Madoka, waiting for her answer. Her eyes drift to the window, beyond which strangers form into ever-shifting crowds, bodies coming together in anarchic choreographies.

“You’re doing it again,” Hitomi sighs. “Looking for something. Or is it someone ?”

Madoka snaps back to her. “I... sorry.” She swallows nervously, giving a shaky smile. “I can’t help it. I don’t know what’s up with me either.”

Sayaka frowns. “You said you thought your soulmate was dying a few days ago.”

“I...” Madoka presses a hand to her chest. It doesn’t hurt anymore, but she can still recall the sensation. “I was really scared,” she begins, a little hesitant, “when I woke up. But I don’t know why I was scared. And my heart started hurting after a while, I mean,” her voice cracks. She pauses briefly, biting her lip. She’s clenching a fistful of her uniform against herself. “I thought I was going to die.”

“That sounds... quite serious. Did you not see a doctor ?”

Madoka shakes her head. “I’m fine ! Really. I’m sure it didn’t come from me.”

“Okay, so your soulmate’s heart was hurting and you were feeling it. And that’s why you thought your soulmate was dying.” Madoka nods timidly. Sayaka groans. “So, uh. Are they still alive ?”

“They,” Madoka stutters, inexplicably agitated, “they have to be.”

Both of her friends stare. She doesn’t know what face she’s making that has them looking at her like that. It’s silly, she knows. All of it is silly. Soulmates ? They’re not nine anymore. How could Madoka know ?

There’s no name for that feeling— it comes slow like low-frequency humming, pervasive and permanent, the echo of a deep-sea creature’s call through flesh. It curls along the length of her ribs, too big for her bones, tight under her skin. Something like fear, and giving up, and everything in between. Like a warning, like a portent. Her eyes drift back to the window again, mind spreading outward. She splays her fingers over the glass like she could hold the world between them.

“It’s like I’m being called,” she settles on, after a too-long silence. “And I can’t call back.”

At the end of the street, long, flowing straight black hair catches her eye for the briefest of instants. She barely manages to glimpse a black cat in the stranger’s arms before they’re gone, like a mirage.

Sayaka’s hand falls upon her shoulder. Madoka jumps a little, startled back into her own body. “Madoka ?”

“Huh ?”

Sayaka stares at her. “You’re, like, really out of it.”

“Are you certain you’re alright ? Maybe you should go to the hospital.”

“I’m fine. I am, really.”

She doesn’t sound very convincing, and her friends don’t look very convinced.

She looks down at her hands, the bareness of them. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

-

It’s storming. The city is flying up, up, up. There’s a great, mountainous figure in the sky, spinning and laughing— but it sounds like she’s crying. There’s someone’s hand in hers.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Madoka says, and lets go.

-

Madoka wakes up before her alarm can do it for her. Morning sunlight slips past her pink blinds, gently rousing her from the depths of a dream. She blinks blearily at the ceiling, half-expecting for the rest of her to wake up feeling on edge, but she just... wakes up, fully rested, fully aware, without feelings that aren’t hers.

It’s March 25th. She swings her legs off her bed, planting both firmly on the floor. She starts the day with an enthusiasm that has both of her parents clearly relieved and happy. Her mama talks about the company, everyone eats the cherry tomatoes grown by her papa. She meets Sayaka and Hitomi on the way to school. They talk about inconsequential things.

She feels good.

Unfortunately, Miss Saotome doesn’t share the sentiment, clearly going through another breakup. Madoka idly wonders why she can’t ever seem to nail down a long-term partner as she listens to her rant about eggs.

“Now that that’s out of the way, let’s welcome in our new transfer student ! Come on in, Akemi-san !”

Madoka perks up in interest. The prettiest girl she’s ever seen walks into the room.

“Now, then ! Why don’t you tell your classmates about yourself ?”

“My name is Akemi Homura. Pleased to meet you.”

She doesn’t say any more. There’s an awkward silence as everyone waits for her to, but she doesn’t seem very keen on breaking it.

Miss Saotome pauses her writing, throwing the new student an encouraging smile. “Go on ?”

Homura doesn’t. She takes a stylus and completes out the rest of her name, handwriting neat and precise, then bows. As the class applauds, seemingly because it doesn’t know what else to do, her eyes shift, locking onto Madoka. Her gaze lingers for a couple seconds too long. Or maybe Madoka is the one staring. She ducks her head, heart performing nervous flutters in her chest.

She spends the rest of the lesson thinking of a girl four seats down on her right, raven hair and violet orbs swimming in her head like a forgotten dream resurfacing. She keeps finding herself watching her. Half the class is doing the same, probably. It’s not a weird thing.

Except Homura watches back. She turns her head to her left and stares from the corner of her eye. Madoka can’t look away from her, even after she turns back to the board.

The bell rings. Madoka jolts, realizing she hasn’t been paying attention to the class at all. A small crowd of curious girls forms around Homura’s desk, throwing questions for the entire room to hear. Homura’s unbothered by them, giving brief, straightforward answers to each.

Hitomi hums. “She has a mysterious air to her, doesn’t she ?”

Sayaka rests her weight on Madoka’s desk. “Hey, Madoka. Do you know her ? Maybe it’s just me, but it seemed like she was glaring at you.”

“I...”

She... shouldn’t, probably. For some reason, that doesn’t sit right with her. It’s messing with her a little. She doesn’t. They’ve never met. The words lump in her throat and refuse to budge.

“I don’t... know. I might’ve met her... in a dream, or something,” she mumbles haltingly.

Homura’s saying something about a headache. Madoka shifts in her seat, gathering her feet in preparation to stand up.

Homura leaves the classroom alone.

She... leaves the classroom by herself.

Madoka stares blankly at the empty seat, confused and disappointed and confused again.

“Madoka ?”

She startles, thoughts snapping back into place. She forgot about Hitomi and Sayaka.

“Y— yes ?”

Sayaka squints. “You’re acting kinda weird. Like, a different weird, I mean.”

Hitomi gasps. “It’s her, isn’t it !”

“Uh. What ?”

“Her soulmate, Sayaka !” Hitomi whisper-shouts.

Sayaka’s eyes widen. She whips around like Homura’s still there. She’s not. She’s completely out of view. Probably already in the nurse’s office.

“Sayaka-chan...”

“Right, right. I forgot she’s not here right now. That aside, you think that’s her ?”

Madoka feels her cheeks warming. She looks down, biting her lip. “No... there’s no way, right ?” She laughs. It’s an awkward sound, even to herself. “She’s so pretty.”

“You’ve been expecting your soulmate for the last month. It would make sense if it were her.”

Madoka’s eyes drift to the empty seat at the front of the class, next to Nakazawa. Hitomi makes a good point, but... but she’s just Madoka. She kind of never really expected to meet her soulmate— she still doesn’t. She thinks maybe the idea is just a way to comfort herself, to rationalize the weird things her brain does.

“Maybe,” she mumbles unsurely.

“Ah, Shizuki-san, could you be a dear and help me get these supplies ?” Miss Saotome sighs. “They’re in the old building. Sorry ! I think someone misplaced them when cleaning up.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m glad to be of help.”

“Oh, man, unlucky,” Sayaka moans once miss Saotome’s out of earshot. Hitomi smiles with fond exasperation.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“Suuuure~.”

-

Homura is amazing. She’s smart, and athletic, and gorgeous. Madoka’s obviously staring at her all day, and both Sayaka and Hitomi pick up on it. Homura does too, because she keeps sending those strange, indecipherable looks her way.

“Aaah !” Sayaka moans as soon as they’re let out for the day, resting her weight over Madoka’s shoulders. “The transfer student is stealing my wife from meeee.”

“In this situation, I reckon you are the homewrecker, Sayaka.”

She gasps. “Me ? Never ! Even if the transfer student’s her soulmate, I won’t give Madoka to her !”

“Sayaka-chan...” Madoka laughs embarrassingly.

“Speaking of, I saw Akemi-san on my way to the old building. She was playing with a cat.”

“Huh ? That’s actually pretty cute. So this is moe...”

The mental image is positively precious. “I want to see it,” she mumbles.

Sayaka and Hitomi giggle. She flushes with embarrassment.

She thinks of Homura all day.

“I want to get closer to Akemi-san...”

「I can help with that !」

She startles, shooting up from where she was lying on her bed. Her head swivels left, then right— there, on her windowsill, somehow inside of her room, sits a strange white animal; some mix between a white cat and a bunny with a big bushy tail like a fox.

... Maybe she should look into possibly having schizophrenia. She closes her eyes, counts to ten in her head, and opens them again.

It’s still there.

The creature tilts its head.「Kaname Madoka. You are doubting my existence.」

“Oh god, you talk. In my head.”

It stretches like a cat.「I do ! My name is Kyubey, and I want you to make a contract with me and become a magical girl !」

“Uh. What ?”

Its eyes are red. Beady. They don’t turn. Do they have sclera ? Are those just giant pupils glued to its plush face ? They feel unsettling.

Madoka breathes in deeply. She remembers. She doesn’t like eyes like this. Or rather, her mysterious soulmate dislikes them. Apparently, when she was younger, her parents were forced to return a high-quality bunny plush because she kept trying to tear its beady red eyes off. They had to find another birthday gift. She is forever grateful for them.

Kyubey tilts its head. His ?「Kaname Madoka, your heart rate and blood pressure are elevated. Does my presence induce nervousness in you ?」

Kyubey’s tail sways.「While undesirable, this doesn’t seem overly problematic. Perhaps exposure will help you get accustomed to me. In the meantime, is there anything I can do to ease you ?」

Stop looking at me. Go away. “I don’t think so, no... What are you ?”

「My mission is to create magical girls. Magical girls fight against witches, the manifestation of Earth’s curses. Of course, we wouldn’t ask you to fight without a reward of some sort. You have expressed desire to ‘get close’ to Akemi Homura, as it is. I can make that wish come true ! Or, if you’d like, any other wish.」

“Uh... That sounds great,” she says hesitantly. “Can I... think on it ?”

「Of course ! I won’t rush you. Hmm, if you’d like, there’s another magical girl around. She will have a more grounded perspective of the magical girl life than I do. Her opinion will be valuable to you, I’m sure. I could ask her to meet with you.」

Another magical girl... She can’t help but feel a little star-struck by the idea. Would she be like the girls in the shows ? Fighting for justice, to protect everyone ?

“I’d like that,” Madoka breathes out.

「That’s great ! I’ll contact you again !」Kyubey stands. Somehow, he’s on the the other side of her window. He jumps off into the dark, gone as quick as he arrived, just like a dream.

-

Confirmation that it’s not a weird dream or hallucination comes the next day. Kyubey’s voice sounds in her head and calls her to the rooftop after school. She half-expects to find nothing there.

Thankfully for her mental health, there is someone there. A blonde girl sits on a stone bench, Kyubey perched on her shoulder. She stands up and waves as she notices Madoka approaching.

“Hello ! You must be Kaname Madoka, the one Kyubey told me about ? I’m Tomoe Mami, a third-year.”

“Y— yes ! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tomoe-san.”

“There’s no need to be nervous, I don’t bite.”

Tomoe smiles at her, gentle and reassuring. Madoka finds her nerves relaxing. The upperclassman abruptly turns her eyes to her left, gaze sharpening.

“Although I can’t say the same to uninvited guests. Come on out, the one Kyubey calls an anomaly.”

Huh ? Madoka snaps her head back. Homura walks out of the tower’s shadow, stone-faced as ever. She comes to a halt two meters away from them.

Kyubey calls out,「Akemi Homura.」

Homura gives him a cursory glance, barely acknowledging his presence. Madoka startles as she finds the raven-haired girl’s attention on her. Just like her introduction, it lingers just a little too long.

“Kaname Madoka. Tomoe Mami.”

“What are you doing here ?”

Homura merely stares. She does that a lot. Tomoe and Madoka wait, but she doesn’t seem keen on answering. At all. Tomoe shifts awkwardly.

Homura’s gaze slides over to Madoka. “Regrettably, I was careless and unable to prevent that thing from making contact with Kaname Madoka. I come with a piece of advice. You shouldn’t become a magical girl.”

Tomoe narrows her eyes. “That’s her choice to make, not yours.”

“Of course it is. I’d like for it to stay that way. Someone has to balance out that thing’s pushiness, don’t you think ?” Homura tilts her head back, staring Kyubey down.

Tomoe glares, tensing up. Madoka’s still processing the situation, so when she arrives at the critical point, being Homura’s presence, she blurts it out without any notion of ‘reading the room’.

“Wait, Akemi-san, you’re a magical girl too ?”

Everyone’s attention turns to her. She shrinks sheepishly.

“I am.”

Her eyes are soft. There’s something about the way she looks at Madoka... she can’t place it. She doesn’t look at Madoka the way she looks at Tomoe, much less Kyubey. She looks at Madoka like... like...

Madoka swallows. Like she knows her.

“Akemi-san, is there any reason you don’t want me to become a magical girl ?”

Homura stares, saying nothing. She doesn’t seem like she’ll answer with how unnervingly still she is, but after a silence that’s well and truly become incredibly awkward, she opens her mouth.

“Kaname Madoka, do you cherish your friends and family ?”

“Uh. Yes ?”

“They all cherish you back. You shouldn’t put yourself in danger, for the sake of the people who love you.”

That... of course, that makes sense, but does that have anything to do with Homura ?

“Are you... one of them, Akemi-san ?”

Homura makes a face with too many feelings in it, all too tangled to parse any one of them. For just an instant, she looks like she’s about to cry.

Instead, she tosses her hair back, breaking eye contact. “Does it matter ?”

“It does, to me.” Madoka steps forward. One hand begins to reach out, as though to grab onto Homura. She doesn’t get the chance to.

“Tomoe Mami,” Homura calls.

“Huh ?” Tomoe startles at being addressed so abruptly in the midst of what was almost an intimate conversation. Madoka does too, freezing in place before letting her arm fall back to her side.

Homura sighs. “I’m coming with you.”

“Huh ?”

“You’re planning on taking her on a witch-hunt, aren’t you ? I’m coming with you.”

“Ah, uh... sure ?”

Homura doesn’t wait for them to mentally catch up before walking away. Madoka and Tomoe share a glance and hurry after her, following like lost ducklings as she leads them out of the school and onto the streets. Her steps are sure, unhesitant, as they weave through a network of alleys. Mami and Kyubey take her silence as cue to explain magical girls, witches, soul gems and wishes, and the tracking Homura is presumably doing in front of them. They pass a hole-in-the-wall CD shop she once spent a whole afternoon hunting down with Sayaka.

Homura takes a turn left. Madoka catches a short glimpse of her soul gem, shining in royal purple.

“Akemi-san...”

“Homura is fine.”

“Oh ! You can call me just Mami, as well.”

“O— oh. Sure. Homura-chan. Mami-san. You can call me Madoka too. Um, why did you become a magical girl ?”

She can’t see Homura’s expression from her back. Mami purses her lips, eyes going very sad for a moment.

“For me, I... didn’t have much of a choice.” She says it like recalling something distantly; picking at old, faded scars. “I didn’t have time to think about it. I just wanted to survive. I was the only one who did...”

“What... happened ?”

Mami sighs. It’s a small thing. “We were in a car accident. It’s a pretty common story, you know ? Nothing special.”

She smiles. Madoka can’t help but think about how fake it looks. “Don’t say that. It... it doesn’t make it less sad.”

“Kaname-san...”

Homura stops. Madoka thinks she’s going to say something to comfort Mami, but she doesn’t. “There’s a witch up ahead.”

Mami goes alert. “How close ?”

“It’s moving.”

It’s a flurry of movement, after that. Mami and Homura transform in a flash of light— “Sorry !” Mami exclaims with a wink as she picks her up bridal-style and jumps onto a rooftop. Homura spares them a glance before leading the way for them, following the movement of the witch slithering through alleys.

The wind whips their clothes and hair around, the humid chill of early spring nipping her cheeks. Madoka squints against the late afternoon sun. She’s struck, suddenly, by a strange sense of familiarity.

They drop into an alleyway. A cat startles and zooms off onto the main street.

“Ah, sorry, kitty !”

Mami giggles as she lets her down. Homura’s standing before... something. A kaleidoscopic hole in the fabric of reality.

「This is the entrance to a witch’s labyrinth,」Kyubey explains.「Your mission is to go in, find the witch, and defeat it.」

“Are you ready, Kaname-san ?”

Madoka takes a deep breath. Everyone’s looking at her. “Yeah.”

Homura steps closer. Madoka blinks at her. “Homura-chan ?”

She gently grabs Madoka’s head. Madoka goes still, fighting back a shiver. Homura’s really close. Her fingertips are cool on the shell of her ears. Her eyes are closed as she focuses on... something. She steps away after a moment that feels both short and long.

“There, I’ve applied a small barrier on your ears to protect them against the sound of our firearms.”

“O— oh. Thank you.”

So that’s what it was. Homura doesn’t really say much before she does things, huh. Madoka smiles at her.

Homura looks away. “It’s nothing.”

-

Mami and Homura really are amazing. She replays the fight the whole way to Mami’s apartment — she’d invited them, looking like she hadn’t wanted to part —, thinking about Mami’s muskets and Homura’s teleporting bombs. It was a little scary, a little dizzying, being in that place, but more than that... it was amazing.

Mami had been beautifully confident, in control even when taken by surprise. Homura too, she had a surety to her, every step calculated. Madoka... she wants that.

“Kaname-san ?”

Madoka snaps back to reality. Homura’s staring at her again. Mami too, though she’s smiling into a cup of warm tea.

“So you’re the type to get stuck in your own head, huh.”

Madoka flushes. She looks down, blinking down at the piece of cheesecake in front of her and the cup of tea next to it.

“It’s bergamot tea and strawberry cheesecake.”

“Oh ! Thank you !”

It’s good. Both the cake and the tea.

“So, what did you think ? About your first foray into the life of a magical girl.”

She blinks.

“It’s not.”

“Eh ?”

Mami purses her lips. “I can’t disagree with Akemi-san. You should think carefully about whether this life is something you’re truly ready to face, and what you want in exchange for it.”

Madoka looks down at her cake. Something rises to her chest, something she doesn’t know and can’t describe.

... Did she still have that much cake ? She could’ve sworn she’d already eaten it all.

Kyubey hops onto the table. Mami gives him a terrible stink-eye.

「If you’re going to make a choice, you should make it before Walpurgisnacht comes.」

“Walpurgis...nacht...” Madoka goes alert in an overly familiar way. She blinks twice, glancing out Mami’s floor-to-ceiling window. The sky is clear, with only a few cumulous clouds floating along gentle air currents, shined orange by sunset. From the corner of her eye, she sees Homura glare with an emotion too dark and intense to be hatred. It’s gone when she takes a proper look at her.

「It’s a witch ! Formally, it’s an aggregation of witches that fused together into one very powerful entity. It’s not something that can be defeated by a lone magical girl.」

Mami hums thoughtfully. “We’ll need all the firepower we can get, huh...”

Homura sips her tea. “There’s a competent veteran in Kazamino.”

Mami goes still.

“I hear you know each other.” Homura peeks up at her, with her eyes lidded in an almost lazy way. Madoka can feel something under the exchange, but she doesn’t know what it is. “I’m sure you could ask for her help, Tomoe-san.”

Mami gives an awkward smile. “... Sure.”

Madoka squeezes her fork. The cake tastes like nothing.

Homura is staring again.

She can’t tell if it’s the way the sunset behind her blurs the edges of Homura, but it feels like she keeps seeing double.

“Okay,” she says. “I think I need to go home soon. I have a curfew.”

-

“I can’t come today.”

“Oh ? That’s unusual.”

“I have... something to take care of.”

Homura bows. Madoka realizes it’s the first time she’s ever seen Homura leave school on her own. Mami and Madoka fall into step together, going on a patrol just the two of them. It’s their fourth since they started a week and a half ago.

“I wonder what she’s doing...”

Mami hums, staring at Madoka with something like wonder. “I’ve never seen you apart.”

“Huh ?”

“She usually walks you home, doesn’t she ? You’ve also been inviting her to lunch with or without your other friends.”

Mami had been watching ? Madoka ducks her head, suddenly inexplicably embarrassed.

“You’ve become quite close quite quickly, haven’t you ?”

“Uh, yeah...?”

Madoka tilts her head, unsure where Mami is going with this. Mami studies her for a moment.

“I’m quite certain Akemi-san has a crush on you, Kaname-san.”

“What ?” Madoka startles.

“She doesn’t seem the type to ever confess, and you’re both a little...” Mami coughs. “So, sorry, but it had to be said.”

“No no, wait, go back. Please.”

“Akemi-san has a crush on you.”

It doesn’t make any more sense than the first time she said it.

“No, she doesn’t,” she denies on instinct. Mami raises a brow, skeptical. “There’s no way she’d like me. She’s beautiful and smart and athletic and I’m just... me.”

Mami raises her other brow. “She looks at you like you hung the sun and moon.”

“She definitely doesn’t,” Madoka mumbles, in full knowledge of how unconvincing she sounds.

Homura does get that— look on her face, sometimes. The one that’s too soft and too warm for a stranger, or a friend, or even a lover.

“We, we haven’t known each other for very long.”

The word soulmate rings through her head. The possibility makes her dizzy.

She thinks What if ? What if Homura feels it, too ?

Just like five years ago, it doesn’t feel impossible, not nearly as much as it should.

Mami, seeing her conflict, steers the conversation away. Madoka packs up her thoughts in a box to look through later. They circle the eastern part of the city and find no trace of magic. It’s a beautiful day, and they eat parfaits together before parting.

-

She keeps thinking about Mami’s words.

“Madoka, you’ve been staring an awful lot at the transfer student.” Sayaka smirks. “More than usual, I mean.”

Madoka flushes hot, burying her traitorous cheeks in her arms. She groans. Sayaka laughs.

“I saw her yesterday.”

“You did ?!”

Sayaka’s eyebrows raise into her hairline. “Wow.”

Madoka coughs, shamefully shrinking back into her seat.

“Yeah, at the hospital. I kinda totally forgot she was supposed to have a heart condition, y’know ?” Sayaka rubs the back of her head. “I feel kinda bad for dragging her around the mall the other day, now.”

“She said she enjoyed it, though.”

“Must have enjoyed the look you had when she tried on that leather jacket, sure.”

Madoka pouts, nudging Sayaka’s foot with hers. Sayaka gasps dramatically. “Oh, woe ! My Madoka’s been corrupted. She’s using violence on me now !”

Madoka huffs through her nose. “I’m gonna go ask her for help with math.”

“Suuuure~. Asking her out on a study date, emphasis on date.”

Madoka ignores her.

Homura is, thankfully, free after school.

The library is quiet, and empty. Behind the front desk, the 3rd year librarian is nodding off. Homura heads for a table at the back, steps sure like she’s navigated this place dozens of times. Madoka follows. They settle next to each other, and Homura goes through her homework with the surety and confidence of a printer. Madoka, not so much.

Homura is here to help, though. She brings her chair closer and leans over, pointing out the crucial points with easy-to-follow explanations. Madoka forces herself to focus on her words instead of the voice saying them or the heat she can feel emanating from Homura’s body. She mentally curses Mami for making her overly-conscious of Homura, then takes it back because that’s a little mean.

At some point, Homura’s head comes to rest on Madoka’s shoulder as she watches her go through exercises. She occasionally mumbles small corrections, so Madoka doesn’t notice until she finishes her paper that Homura hasn’t said anything in a while.

She’s breathing slow and deep. When Madoka calls her name, quietly because she’s afraid to disturb her, she doesn’t respond.

She’s asleep. Madoka goes still. She wishes she could see Homura’s face.

Homura... Homura clearly loves Madoka. She knows that. It’s obvious. Mami thinks it’s a crush. Madoka, deep down, knows it’s nothing so shallow.

But that makes no sense. Homura didn’t know Madoka before. She couldn’t have known her. But then why ? Why does Homura pay so much attention to her ? Why is she so kind to Madoka ?

Homura stirs slightly. Madoka holds her breath.

Homura softly nuzzles into Madoka’s shoulder without waking up. She must be tired. Could she have patrolled or found a witch after her check-up at the hospital ? Does she get enough sleep on a normal day, balancing schoolwork and magical girl duties ?

Madoka wants to help her. She does.

-

They meet up with Mami on a bright Saturday afternoon to hang out and then patrol. They have some crepes at a family diner where Homura frowns at her cup of coffee the entire time. They go to an arcade, where Mami beats a shooter game’s high score and exchanges for a set of keychains. Madoka catches her smiling at them with a tentative kind of hope. Homura stands ominously in the corner, as she’s wont to do sometimes, before Madoka drags her to a DDR machine. Madoka’s bad at the game, but she enjoys it all the same. More so when she realizes Homura’s more relaxed after that, setting a leaderboard score. She says a friend taught her to play. Madoka didn’t know she had friends outside of school. It’s a fun time, a great time.

It’s been two weeks since she was thrown into the world of magical girls. She thinks this kind of time is what she wants to protect, as she watches the late afternoon sun stretch long shadows eastward.

“I think,” she begins, right as they cross over to the abandoned industrial district. “I’m ready.”

Homura stops.

Mami smiles, turning back to her. “You’ve made your choice ?”

“Yeah. I’m... I’m going to become a magical girl ! I want to help you both !”

Mami laughs, bounding over to grab her hands. “That’s great !” she exclaims, enthused. “Have you decided on a wish yet ?”

“Uh... my wish will be fulfilled once I become a magical girl, so... There isn’t really anything I want...” Madoka fidgets awkwardly, hands trapped between Mami’s.

「You need to make a wish to fulfill the contract, though,」Kyubey points out, sitting by Mami’s feet.

“Then why don’t you wish for cake ? A big cake, to celebrate ?” Mami beams.

Madoka giggles. “A cake ?”

“TOMOE MAMI !” Homura screams, suddenly turning on her heels. A flash of purple flames around her manifests her magical girl outfit. “Stop leading Madoka to her death !”

Mami freezes. “Akemi-san ?”

Homura’s heaving. Her eyes are wild and she’s wreathed in fury. She glares at Mami with a visceral sort of hatred. Madoka tentatively steps closer, but Homura turns back from her, pacing restlessly like a caged beast. There’s a frantic energy to her as she rambles almost incoherently. “You’re always tempting Madoka into this, selling her soul away, it’s always you who gives her this beautiful ideal, you make her sell her humanity for CAKE of all things and you always seduce Miki Sayaka to your side and then she can’t live up to who she thinks you are and turns into a witch and it makes Madoka sad and sometimes she contracts and then she dies it’s always you it’s always you it’s”

Homura stops. She’s breathing hard. Her eyes are wide, staring at nothing, violet irises a thin ring around her dark pupils. She’s shaking.

“Homura-chan ?” “Akemi-san ?”

Her legs give out under her. She falls onto her hands. Madoka follows her down, grabbing her shoulder.

“You’re going to leave me again ?” she says, small and vulnerable.

She can hear the sound of bells tolling, grandfather clocks ticking. Somewhere, a pendulum swings left, and doesn’t come back down.

The air changes, heavy and acrid, the scent of hopelessness. Mami jolts, flinching back. The soul gem on her ring glows brightly, like there’s a witch nearby. The beautiful diamond-shaped gem on Homura’s hand swirls darkly, ominously, swallowing the light.

Madoka’s scared. There’s something she knows, that she’s afraid to grasp. Homura feels cold under her, like she’s been drained of blood. She has to try twice to say anything. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you. I won’t... I won’t make a contract, okay ? Stay with us, Homura-chan.”

She wraps her arm around Homura’s shoulders. Slowly, Homura stops trembling. The gem on her hand is still murky, but the swirling darkness isn’t so hungry anymore, spread stopped.

“Promise ?”

She doesn’t sound like Homura, like this. Not like the one she knows. Madoka swallows. “I promise.”

Homura goes still, like a statue. Her breaths are coming in slow, Madoka can barely feel them even touching Homura.

“I’m here,” Madoka mumbles into her ear, because she doesn’t know what else to do.

Mami’s standing there, contemplating Homura with the same kind of analytical curiosity that’s kept her alive all this time. Madoka stares at her like she expects her to imitate Homura’s meltdown.

“She was becoming a witch,” Mami whispers, taking a horrified step back. She hollers: “KYUBEY !!! What is the meaning of this ?!”

「There’s no need to yell. I can hear you just fine.」Kyubey scratches his ear with his hind leg.「As you said, she was becoming a witch ! Although unfortunately, Kaname Madoka halted the process.」

“Unfortunately— do you.” Mami inhales, a sharp kind of dry sob. “Do you want us to become witches ?”

Kyubey tilts his head.「It’s your duty as a magical girl. The energy release from the phase shift of your souls from hope into despair can overcome entropy ! It’s truly wonderful, don’t you think ?」

“Is this— is this why Akemi-san doesn’t want Kaname-san to become a magical girl ? You knew ?”

Homura doesn’t answer. She’s still shaken. Madoka isn’t sure she knows what’s happening at all. She’s still transformed, and Madoka thinks maybe she didn’t even do that consciously. She presses herself closer, as much as the awkward position allows her to. Homura’s bony shoulder is digging into her collarbone.

Mami shifts.

Homura’s head snaps up. Her pupils are still blown wide but Madoka recognizes the fear. “Tomo—!”

Bang !

...

“... Huh ?”

What ?

Madoka looks up. Mami’s standing there, in magical girl garb, with a musket in her hands, barrel still smoking from her shot. Her hands are as sure as they’ve ever been on the trigger, steady and strong.

Madoka opens her mouth. Mami stays frozen there, eyes wide, like she herself can’t quite believe she did it. She doesn’t know what to say.

She looks down.

Homura lies crumpled on the ground, like a puppet without strings. Her eyes are glassy, still too dark, and she’s not seeing anything at all, not anything at all... The back of her left hand is bloody, bare. Her soul gem is gone, completely, without a trace. She’s dead.

Mami killed her.

Madoka opens her mouth again, numb. “Why ?”

Mami’s voice is shaking. “If we’re going to become witches, then we have no choice but to die, right ?”

She’s smiling. She looks broken. Madoka’s heard those words before, those exact same ones, with that exact same face.

Mami’s rifle unspools. Her magic flares, ribbons rearranging into the shape of a flintlock handgun. She points it backwards, aiming point-blank. She’s staring into Madoka’s eyes.

Madoka doesn’t stop her.

Bang !

...

...

...

...

...

「Aah, what a waste !」Kyubey stretches.「Those two would have netted us much energy if they had completed incubation. Oh well ! You can still make a contract, Kaname Madoka !」

“A contract.”

「Of course ! In exchange, you can wish for anything. You can wish your friends back.」

She knows what he’s doing. She knows.

She looks down. Homura, on the ground, in casual clothes she had thought were so pretty, just two hours prior. Homura, whose absence leaves a hole in Madoka’s chest gaping wider than it ever has.

Homura, who is the one she’s been waiting for, all this time, since the moment of her birth. The one who’s probably scared of storms, who doesn’t like white bunnies with red eyes (and she gets it, suddenly), who knows the plot of a dozen TV thrillers and twice as many bad soap opera romances, whose heart hurt on the 15th of March, because she was getting surgery. Her soulmate.

Homura. Homura. Homura.

“Kyubey,” she starts, and her voice sounds far away from herself, “I want to make a contract.”

「Of course !」

“Give her back,” she says. Tears prick at her eyes— she chokes up. A broken, anguished wail rips out of her throat. “Give her back— give her back to me, my Homura, please—!”

She sobs loudly, crawling forward on all fours to fall onto the corpse. Her body burns, from the extremities inward, nerves gathering in the center of her chest. It hurts. It hurts, but it’s nothing at all compared to the parts of her shaped to accept Homura’s presence inside them.

She barely notices the transformation, the magic coating her skin, as she wraps herself around Homura’s still body, pressing her head to her chest.

Nothing, nothing, nothing— a beat. Small, weak, almost timid. It’s quickly followed by another, then another, then another. Homura’s lungs expand with air. She wakes slowly, like floating up from the depths of an ocean.

“Madoka...?”

Madoka sobs with relief. “You’re alive,” she breathes out. She’s folding creases into Homura’s dress shirt that might never smooth out.

“You made a contract.”

Madoka bites her lip. “I did. I’m sorry. I don’t regret it.”

Homura goes quiet for a moment. She places a hand on Madoka’s back, still at first, then tentatively begins to rub slow circles into her. “No, I’m... I’m sorry for losing my cool.”

Madoka shakes her head against Homura. She says nothing, only clinging tighter as Homura adjusts them into a less uncomfortable position.

They’re both processing what just happened. A mere meter away, Tomoe Mami’s corpse lies unmoving, golden hair matted in spots of crimson where her soul gem exploded into sharp shards and her eardrums ruptured. Madoka can’t find it in herself to care about anything that isn’t Homura’s warmth, Homura’s breath, Homura’s heartbeat. Not right now, but later maybe, when every neural cell isn’t focused on this— Madoka hiccups, feeling cruel. Homura holds her through it all, arms steady.

Twilight turns to dusk, orange fading to cobalt blue.

Eventually, Madoka breaks the silence. “What... what do we do, Homura-chan ?”

She doesn’t really know what she’s asking.

Beneath her, Homura takes a deep, steadying breath. Madoka copies her, if only just to feel the same thing.

They rise together. With the way Madoka’s hanging off Homura, it’s more like Homura sits them both up with just her core strength. She takes stock of their surroundings: the darkening sky, the stillness of the alley, the corpse.

Homura goes blank in a way that Madoka recognizes, now. She’s done this before. It’s a disquieting thought that makes itself known to Madoka: how Homura must have held dead bodies more than she’s ever held alive ones. She hates that.

But she can’t do anything about it, right now. “Okay,” she says simply. Letting Homura go feels like giving herself up to the void, but she does it anyway. She watches her stand up on steady feet, light washing over her form briefly as she transforms. Gears spin and click into place, then she’s gone, and so is what was previously Tomoe Mami.

She watches the mouth of the alley like she could glimpse Homura’s shadow leave it.

It occurs to Madoka she should call her mama. As soon as she thinks about it, the transformation comes loose. Her shaky fingers miss her vest’s pocket twice.

It takes six rings for Kaname Junko to pick up.

“Hello ? Madoka ?”

“Mama,” she says into the receiver. Junko goes quiet at the gravity in her voice, the strain of her vocal chords from crying. “Homura-chan had a... a near-death” her voice cracks “experience. I— I know the rule is to plan sleepovers in advance but.. but.” She swallows. She knows her mama wouldn’t say no, but saying it makes everything feel much more real. Homura almost died. Homura had died. She would have stayed dead. “Can I stay over at her place, or can she stay with us ? Please.” She says the last word with a desperation she didn’t know she could feel until about twenty-two minutes ago.

The other end is quiet for a long moment, as Junko chews over the words. “Okay. Does cream stew for dinner sound alright ? Your father wanted to surprise you, tonight.”

“Yeah... yeah. Thank you, Mama. I love you.” It hits her as she says it that there could — would — come a day she could never say it again. So she repeats, choked up, “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. I’m gonna hang up and call papa, alright ? You can call us anytime, for anything. Okay ? We’ll always be here.”

“I know.” She sniffles wetly. She’s always had so many tears in her. “I’ll be home soon.”

Beep. Tuut. Tuuut. Tuuut.

She stares at her phone. Listens to the hang-up tone for too long.

She’s alone in an alley that killed people. Kyubey isn’t here anymore, probably knew he wasn’t welcome and went away since his business is complete now that Madoka is...

She clenches her teeth, hot tears running down her cheeks. She doesn’t regret it, not at all, she would never ever regret it— but it hurts all the same, all the more so for broken promises and terrible echoes of hollow futures and severed fate threads.

She cries until Homura’s back, phone still playing that slow, empty ring tone. Homura crouches, ends the call properly, and wipes her face with a pink handkerchief. Her touch is unbearably soft. It’s all Madoka’s ever wanted. As she pulls away, Madoka grabs her and refuses to let go again.

The whole walk home, she’s rubbing Homura’s ring, turning it over, making sure of its solidity. She squeezes Homura’s hand, just to reassure herself she wouldn’t break.

Her papa welcomes them in with a quiet kind of worry. He says nothing about what her mama must have relayed. Homura helps her out of her vest and shoes. Her mama arrives home only twelve minutes after them, Madoka knows because she’s been idly staring at the clock on the wall while leaning against Homura on the couch. Every time she blinks she sees Homura’s unmoving body, so she tries not to, feeling far from her own body.

She is, actually. She is.

She presses her fingers to Homura’s ring, just to make sure it’s there again.

She must look really out of it, because her mama doesn’t bother to try and hide her concern.

“Homura-chan, right ? Are you alright ? You don’t need the hospital ?”

“Thank you for your concern, ma’am. I’m fine.” Homura gives a seated bow, only made a little awkward from Madoka holding her left hand.

“You don’t need to be so polite,” Junko sighs, fond in spite of the worry.

“Understood,” Homura says, in a way that also says she doesn’t plan on changing.

Madoka lets her nerves relax. In her own home, with her family, and Homura— the alley in the industrial district is almost like a bad nightmare. If only she couldn’t feel the weight of the ring on her middle finger, the press of it into her skin. She squeezes Homura’s hand, and Homura squeezes back, already fluent in the language Madoka built between them on the way over.

She eats dinner with her non-dominant hand. It’s a clumsy, awkward affair, but even a chainsaw wouldn’t be enough to pry her from Homura. Homura finishes first and helps feed her the rest of it. Across from them, Junko silently raises her brows.

It’s a good dinner. Madoka thought she’d have a harder time ingesting it, or keeping it down after the fact. She stares blankly at the empty bowl until her parents offer to clean up in their place. She stutters out a strained “Thank you”, wincing slightly at the sound of her own voice. Her papa smiles reassuringly.

She leads Homura to her room. Homura resists as Madoka tries to drag her into bed.

“Our clothes,” she starts, but Madoka interrupts her.

“I don’t care.”

She bodily drags Homura onto the bed, eliciting a squeak from her. The frame creaks under their combined weight. She buries herself into Homura’s chest immediately, arms snaking around her back and pulling Homura close.

Homura sighs, wrapping her arms around Madoka’s shoulders. “We’re dirtying your bed.”

“I’ll wash the sheets later,” Madoka mumbles, muffled by Homura’s shirt.

Homura smells like gunpowder, stronger than usual. Probably because of Mami shooting her. Madoka nuzzles deeper into Homura, nose slipping in the gap between buttons to touch her skin. She smells like snowdrops under everything. Madoka’s struck by an urge to gnaw on the buttons until they give just to feel more of Homura’s warmth.

“Can we talk ?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve done this before.” It’s not a question.

It’s there again, that careful, cautious blankness. “I have.”

It’s like armor for Homura’s feelings, hiding her under layers of solid steel. Madoka squeezes her.

And Madoka has to ask about it, about whether this has happened before. This, in particular. Homura says it hasn’t, she’s never been so close to turning. She can’t choose whether to be relieved or not. She asks about Mami. Homura goes quiet.

“Mami never does well when she finds out,” she says, after a long silence where Madoka can see the memories in Homura’s eyes.

Mami... Mami would have killed Homura. Mami had killed Homura. She wonders, a little morbidly, how many times she’s succeeded. She wonders how many times Madoka’s been there. She wonders if she’s ever tried stopping her.

Somewhere, deep, very deep, she knows she’d have killed her. If she had to, she would have. Maybe even if she didn’t have to.

She holds onto Homura a little tighter. She wants to crawl into Homura’s chest and never leave. That’s impossible, of course, but Homura doesn’t stop her when she tries.

“Have you ever told me all of this ?”

“I did. Often, at the beginning. Not so much, now. But sometimes, still. Last time, I did.”

“Did I make a wish, last time ?”

“You did. I don’t know what it was.”

“Oh.”

She feels like she knows, but maybe she doesn’t. She supposes they never will. Does it matter ?

“How many times has it been ?”

“I don’t remember,” Homura says after a while, in a way that also says it’s been too many.

“Next time. You’ll get it right.”

The lie comes off her tongue too easily. She wonders how many times she’s fooled Homura with it, broken her with it.

“Next time,” Homura repeats, with something unwavering in the depths of her soul.

-

Her soul gem is rainbow-dark, a kaleidoscopically hypnotic impossibility. Pierced clouds begrudgingly let her have a glimpse of the early afternoon sun. She lets herself bask in it for a moment, the faint warmth doing little to soothe the wintry chill of her waterlogged muscles. Now that the storm has passed, it won’t take long before crews are sent out to check on the damage. Then, after that, the residents will begin to leave the shelters, squinting up against the wondrous clear skies. Her family will look for her, and they may find her.

She reaches up, shaking her hand as dry as can be, to touch the wetness on her cheeks. Her fingers are salty with tears that aren’t hers. The taste could never fill the hollow deep in Madoka’s soul, the one that’s shaped like a girl who smells of snowdrops and gunpowder. It’s not too bad of a goodbye kiss. The alternative would have seen her grab on and never let go.

Homura’s gone where Madoka can’t follow. She doesn’t know if the world will begin to crumble as it assimilates into the new one. She doesn’t know if it will assimilate at all. She doesn’t care to find out.

She forces herself up. Her soul gem falls from where it had been sitting on her chest, landing like a rock in the shallow floodwater. She stares at it, for a moment, the impossible black technicolor, the ominous swirling. She thinks of this empty world. She thinks of breaking it, spilling her grief into everything.

She thinks of Homura, who never told her, but Madoka knew anyway, with her gun cocked and a pain that could never be contained within the egg-sized glass ball that had become them.

She wraps her hands around a suitably large rock, some remnant of a home that never knew it could be so deadly, and swings.

-

Madoka wakes up. It’s March 16th. The voices are crying.