Work Text:
“Ho… Homura-chan..?”
This was supposed to be the last time. This was supposed to be the end of this loop, that’s what Homura told Madoka, holding her tight the previous night. Homura said that she was stronger this time. That she could kill the witch.
Madoka doesn’t have to squint to see that there’s no life in Homura’s eyes. Her eyes were always somewhat cold and emotionless, but they were different this time. They seem out of place, two-dimensional. They seem like Sayaka’s did when Madoka made that stupid mistake on the bridge, like Mami right before that witch took her head. They seem gone.
For whatever reason, the rubble piled on top of Homura didn’t lead Madoka to the conclusion. In her mind, Homura could withstand metal shrapnel piercing through her body, Homura could handle having her organs strung and displayed like a modern art installation, Homura could function with a boulder crushing half of her skull. She would be alive forever because she promised.
Madoka always had trouble telling the truth from lies.
“No… no! It can’t be!! She’s alive, right Kyubey!? She has to be alive!” Madoka shrieks despite already knowing the answer to her question.
Kyubey deadpans, “Her soul gem is shattered, Madoka.”
Madoka bites her trembling lip so deeply she can feel the teeth in her muscle. She falls to her knees beside Homura’s body, taking her bloody hand. Kyubey was right. It shattered, glass cutting into her pale skin.
As the Walpurgisnacht lurks overhead, Madoka wails, beats her fists into the ground, damns everything in the world. Because according to Homura, Madoka was the one that always died. Madoka was supposed to die. That was her fate. Homura’s fate was to live and try again.
It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.
“Madoka,” Kyubey remains ignorant of her grief, “Tragedy will come if that witch isn’t killed. Do you have your wish?”
Madoka had her wish. She had meticulously planned it out long before, down to the very last word. She had a wish with no loopholes, no possible misinterpretations. She had a wish that would save the world.
Madoka had her wish. Not anymore.
Homura wasn’t dead when she had that wish. Madoka wasn’t sad to the point of desperation when she had that wish. Rather, Madoka had hope for the world when she made that wish. She had hope for the future.
“Kyubey,” Madoka’s voice trembles. She lays her head on Homura’s empty chest. “Please let me go back and save her.”