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The first time she watches Mami die, it feels like the end of the world. She’s only known the other girl for a month, yet staring at her body makes Homura feel like vomiting.
(Then a few minutes later it really is the end of the world, because Madoka dies. This world, at least.)
The second time she watches Mami die, Homura has bigger concerns. It tears her apart like a stab to the gut when she sees her mentor’s corpse yet again, but the fight against Walkpurgistnacht is in full swing and she has to stay focused if she wants to save Madoka. She’ll have time to grieve later, once the fighting’s over.
(It must have been years since then, the same month played in repeat over and over and over and over and over and over and over until she can’t even remember how long she’s been doing this.)
(She never does have time to grieve.)
The third time she watches Mami die is also the first time she watches Sayaka and Kyoko die. She’s able to smother the tightness in her chest while fighting Octavia but once the fight is over it threatens to overwhelm her. Mami solves that problem though. How kind of her.
It takes far too many loops to stop seeing Kyoko’s face as she sleeps, frozen and lifeless, murdered by her oldest friend. How many times does it take before she stops caring?
Too few, she would have said when she began, young and naive and so full of feelings she felt like she might burst at any moment.
Too many, she would say now, blinders artfully arranged so she can only ever look forward, keep moving forward never stop never look back.
(The answer is neither.)
After seeing Sayaka die for the eighteenth time, Homura steels herself and thinks, I don’t care anymore. Let her die. It makes her feel stronger, strong enough to say it out loud. It feels like a turning point, something profound. The acknowledgment that she is not strong enough, and at the same time a declaration of strength.
(When she watches Kyoko die with her and she clenches her fist so tightly her palm begins to bleed, she tells herself it’s just because it's Kyoko and she's not as used to watching Kyoko die. It takes her just a few more loops to tell herself she doesn’t care about Kyoko either.)
Homura thinks it’s residual fondness from the first loop that it takes her so long to say the same about Mami. On the other hand, she makes it exceedingly easy. Homura wants to shake her by the shoulders and scream You lied to me! You said you were strong and you would protect me but you’re so weak you couldn't help me if you tried! All you do is get in my way and drag Madoka down!
Or had she done that, in some timeline years in the past? It's hard to tell. Memories and thoughts and fantasies blended together after enough loops and it wasn’t like anyone else knew.
Madoka’s death hurts every time, though. It has to. If watching Madoka die doesn't hurt then she is nothing, she wouldn’t even qualify as a person. But Mami and Sayaka and Kyoko? They don't hurt anymore. They can't or she's weak, weak like they are, fools who used to be her friends but are nothing to her now.
Nothing.
She's strong. She doesn't cry and grovel and rush headlong into death just because her friends are dead, not like them. She keeps going. Keeps moving forward.
(Blinders on, Homura. It doesn’t hurt anymore. It doesn't hurt at all.)
Sayaka is sobbing, staring at something. Oh, Mami’s corpse. Of course. “I can’t believe she’s dead,” Sayaka says, voice wobbling, tears dripping from her face. "She was— she was the strongest person I knew."
Homura grits her teeth so hard she can feel them being whittled into dust. Trial and error has taught her not to say she's weak and useless and even now you can't see that. It's not like Homura cares that Sayaka looks up to Mami no matter what she does. And Sayaka's hero worship certainly doesn't matter now that Mami Tomoe is dead.
It's just... frustrating.
That's all.
Homura's done this enough times that keeping her voice perfectly flat as she says, “Those are the risks being a magical girl entails. She knew, and chose to continue despite that,” comes naturally. It's a lie— Mami never had a choice, no magical girl really does— but Homura never knows what else to say.
Sayaka bristles.
"You're heartless, " she chokes out, like the act of speaking physically hurts her. "Mami— Mami's dead , and that's all you have to say? She brought it on herself?"
Homura looks away from Sayaka. She's done this enough time to know when her mask is going to crack. "What else is there to say? No words will bring her back."
No, the only way to bring her back is to keep moving forward.
Days pass again in the blink of an eye, and before she knows it Sayaka's a witch and Kyoko is struggling with her empty, soulless body. "We just gotta—" Kyoko grunts as she adjusts her grip on Sayaka's waist. "We just gotta get her to my place, then once we knock some sense into her and get her soul gem back it'll be like nothing ever happened!"
Homura keeps her face neutral. It's an incoherent plan built on nothing but hope and a prayer. It will not work. The logical thing to do is to let Kyoko run off and purify Sayaka's witch while she's distracted. Kyoko will take it as a betrayal, but she'll stay and fight Walpurgisnacht anyways. Her sense of loyalty to Sayaka and Mami's corpses will override whatever hatred she has for Homura. It's an easy decision.
Stiff as a board, Homura lifts Sayaka's corpse onto her shoulders. "It's easier to carry her like this," she says.
She sees Sayaka's face out of the corner of her eye, eyes empty and lifeless. "Heartless," she hears her say.
(It would be so much easier if she was.)