Chapter Text
“Honesty...” Homura says to herself, pacing around in the hospital room she was doomed to eternally respawn in.
“Honesty...” she repeats, the words of her dearest Madoka echoing through her head.
“I know you said it didn’t work before, but maybe things will be different next time! You’re stronger, now! Just be confident and honest, right from the start! I know it’ll be hard, especially with...the situation you’re in, but...I’ll believe you! No matter what! I promise!”
She wants to believe that. She really, really, really wants to, but she has to be honest with herself first and foremost: Madoka is not the brightest light bulb in the box. She once took Mami’s cake wish seriously for god’s sake. Worst. Timeline. Ever. She’s gullible. Clueless. Easily manipulated. Too trusting. Soft. Softer than the softest sofa from the soft sofa store. Squishier than those weird water-filled plastic tube things that don’t have a clear use. An adorable little fragile cinnamon roll of a human being.
“No. Wait.” she stops herself. “I’m getting off-track here... Maybe... Maybe she isn’t wrong about this. Maybe she was onto something. At least if I take her word, she alone will trust me. And that... That might be good enough. Yeah. That’s good enough.” She finally manages to convince herself to attempt this hairbrained scheme, and commits by spending the next entire day pre-planning all of her responses to every single possible question she could be asked.
Unfortunately, she spent so much time doing this that she forgot to save Amy, causing Madoka to contract to revive her.
Homura Akemi exits the timeline.
The school bell rings. The routine COMMENCES. First day, same thing as usual. Ignore the insane hag at the front of the room ranting about her relationship problems, and just enter the room as if nothing is wrong in the slightest.
Their teacher introduces her, “This is Homura Akemi, our new transfer student! Akemi-san, why don’t you tell us something about yourself?”
She nods. This is it. From practice to action. Theory to praxis. Her hours of preparation would culminate in their finality here, and determine the ultimate trajectory of this timeline.
“My name is Homura Akemi, and I’m a magical girl.” she says to everyone, deadpan as the day she was born.
Gasps are heard around the room, mixed with confused clamoring. People give her odd looks, as opposed to their intrigued ones from earlier.
She adds to her honesty, “I’m also a time traveler. This is my 37th— No, 38th time greeting you all. I screwed up the previous time and didn’t even get here before restarting.”
Even more odd looks as people begin to stop paying attention to her. Madoka, however, is intrigued, and Sayaka is giving her a perplexed glare. Slam dunk.
“I’m also a lesbian.” she continues to add, with absolutely no concept of what counts as too much information in this context.
The class goes from not wanting to be interested in her to being surprised someone would actually admit that, especially with it being so mundane after the two batshit insane things she just said. A few girls even take a keen interest in this statement.
And yet, she has more to say, “I have a university-level understanding of physics and machinery, and possess enough chemical firepower to level a city—”
Their teacher cuffs her hand around Homura’s mouth to silence her in a panic, “Ahahahaaaaaa, that’s enough of that! We have to get on with class! Go take that seat in the front, Akemi-san!”
Her classmates can’t help but stare in disbelief at her as she sits in her seat, totally unfazed. Classes proceed as normal, with the collective class being unable to totally concentrate on their teachers, what with the sheer anomaly of a person who just appeared in their presence. Rumors of her being a hardcore chuuni almost immediately permeate the entire school, and by break time everyone is too scared to even approach her. Especially after she told one of the only girls brave enough to talk to her that she preferred making pipe bombs over sipping coffee in a cafe.
Sayaka, who has had her eye on Homura the entire time, leans over to Madoka and whisper-yells to her, “What is with her!? Is she some kind of psychopath!? Who just casually mentions they make bombs!?”
Madoka tries to give her the benefit of a doubt, bless her heart, “You don’t know what she’s really like! Maybe she’s really a nice girl who’s just a bit weird.”
“A bit!?” Sayka asks incredulously “A BIT!?”
“Okay, maybe a little more than a bit weird...” Madoka admits.
“A whole lot more! Not weird, she’s insane! ”
Madoka pouts at her, “Sayaka! You can’t just say that about people!”
Sayaka slams her shoulders on her desk, “Uuuugh! You don’t get it, she’s— Coming right this way! ” She ducks for cover as if she’s about to be gunned down.
Homura pays her no mind, however, as Madoka turns her gaze to meet the less than mysterious girl. “Come.” Homura says abruptly, “We must talk in private, Madoka Kaname.”
“Uhhh...” Madoka hesitates for a moment, looking around at her friends who frantically signal her to not do it.
Homura takes note of this, “I see Sayaka and Hitomi are objecting. No doubt they believe I’m a crazy person. I assure you I am telling the truth about everything I said. This private conversation is of the utmost importance for your safety.”
Madoka continues to merely consider it, “Uhhh...”
But Homura just...stands there. Menacingly.
At some point, her natural dominant aura forces Madoka to accept, “O-Okay.”
“Good.” Homura says. “Follow me.” And so she does, out into the hallway.
Of course, Madoka can’t stand to just walk aimlessly around the school in total silence until they reach a sufficiently private location. So she tries to make small talk: “So, um... You said you were a time trav—”
“Yes.” Homura interrupts her.
Madoka is caught off guard by that, but keeps trying anyways, “So how many times have we—”
Homura interrupts her again, “38— No, 37 times. No. 38. Yes. Wait, did I count the first time twice?”
“So a lot?” Madoka summarizes.
“Yes. You believe me?” Homura asks.
Madoka has to actually think about that one, but decides just as she always does to give her that chance, “Y-Yeah! Sure! Whatever you say!”
“You don’t sound convinced.” Homura points out, mainly at her hesitation.
“Well, it’s just a bit hard to...” Madoka trails off at the end.
Homura bluntly admits to her, “I understand. Perhaps in my past attempts, I did not make myself clear enough. Perhaps I left out too much information. Or maybe I just didn’t come off as friendly enough.”
“I don’t think that’s the—” Madoka tries to tell her but can’t cut through the exposition.
“And so, I will make myself even clearer, Madoka Kaname. I will not leave out a hint of information. And we will be friends.” However, with the emphasis she put on “will”, her tone comes off as a threat.
Madoka tries again, “That’s not—” but is too weak.
Homura whips herself around as the two find themselves in a familiar connecting hallway. She does a twirl, transforming herself before reaching out to Madoka. She has to actively suppress her instinctive lesbian hall sphinx urge to give ominous, cryptic warnings in vaguely non-euclidean locations.
With a moment’s hesitation, she declares confidently, “I am a magical girl. I am a time traveler. I’ve met you at least 37 times. I’ve repeated this month just as many times in an attempt to save you from your fate.”
Madoka freezes in place from the declaration, unsure of how to respond, nor if she can continue to stretch her belief.
“You frequently take care of a stray cat named Amy.” Homura begins to list off personal facts about her life. “You have a mother and father named Junko and Tomohisa Kaname. Your father stays at home and your mother works at an office where she aims to become CEO. She has a drinking problem and frequently comes home late due to obligate social drinking. You have a little brother barely old enough to speak named Tatsuya. Your favorite food is your father’s cream stew. Your birthday is October 3rd, your blood type is A. Your hobbies are gardening and art. You’re easily scared by childish things like ghosts, monsters, and thunder, but can fearlessly run headlong into danger when it’s to help someone you care about.”
At first, her list of facts came off as slightly creepy, perhaps even raising her stalker alarms, but at that last item, she begins to reconsider her negative assumption.
Homura’s voice begins to waver a bit, going from its confident declarations to a softer, more reminiscent tone, “You don’t have many serious friends, but you treasure all of the ones you do have, and couldn’t imagine living without them. You’re not picky about anything, whether it’s food or things to do, or places to be, people, or music. You’re clumsy, constantly getting hurt and fumbling into danger where you shouldn’t be. You always put yourself down. You say you aren’t good at anything, even when you clearly are. You aren’t satisfied with your purpose in life, and can’t find anything you want to do with it. The people who love you most hate it when you talk badly about yourself, but can’t bring themselves to say anything.”
By now, all of the ridiculous nonsense she was spewing earlier has faded into the background. What was previously an unbelievable escapade has turned into some kind of bizarre intervention of sorts from someone she by all rights doesn’t even know except from a dream. And yet, Madoka can’t quite help but feel a certain resonation among those words. Like it simultaneously dampened her spirit, shook her awake, and lit her on fire all at once.
And then Homura hits her with her coldest statement yet: “But above all, you’re a fool.”
And that catches Madoka off-guard. She darts her gaze back up from the floor as if to confirm that she just heard her correctly.
“You’re a gullible idiot. Too innocent to live. So soft and naive that you could be seduced by the serpent without him needing to try. The fact that you’ve gone this long without being scammed or kidnapped is a miracle. You’ve never once understood just how dangerous the world around you truly is.”
Madoka furrows her brow a bit as she wonders, “Did...Did she just insult me out of nowhere?”
Not helped by Homura ending her spiel with, “And I love everything about you.”
And that’s when it hits her, “Oh. Oh no.”
“Do you believe me now, Madoka?” Curiously, she’s dropped the last name...with no honorifics.
Madoka, meanwhile, is still stunned into silence. But above all, she still has one last question, “...Why did you bring me here?”
Homura sighs at the non-answer. But, it’s Madoka, so she answers, “Aliens are real.”
Aaaand back to insanity it is. Of course, with everything she’s seen so far, Madoka is inclined to listen and believe her this time.
“They are responsible for creating magical girls.”
And it just keeps getting worse.
“One of them has its sights set on you and Sayaka. You need to be careful. They lack empathy and emotions, and will attempt to manipulate you into becoming one of us with the promise of making your wildest dreams come true. Don’t listen to him. Not even for a second. If you do, your death will be etched in stone. A girl named Mami will tempt you into joining her and becoming one of us. She’s not evil, but she’s lonely. Misguided. She doesn’t understand what she’s doing. It’s pointless for me to tell you not to befriend her, but you absolutely cannot follow her or do anything she suggests. She is likely to die within the next two weeks, especially if she becomes hostile towards me.”
There’s a long pause before Madoka asks, “Are...you done?”
“Yes. So do you believe me yet?”
Of course this Madoka, devoid of the context, would find it hard to believe. Of course she would stand there like a deer caught in headlights. Homura sighs.
“I didn’t want to tell you this,” she says “but in the previous timeline, you promised me that if I were completely honest and told the truth this time around from the start, you would believe me.”
Madoka protests, “That’s not it! I mean, I can’t think of any other way you would know all of that about me, but... It’s just too much! I mean, it’s one thing for any of those to be real, but all of them!? At once!? I just...”
Homura backs up a couple paces, “I understand. I’m sorry, this was a stupid idea.”
Madoka shakes her head, “That’s not it either! Just...give me a day or two and...”
Homura outright refuses, “We don’t have a day or two, Madoka. He’s coming for you today. You and Sayaka are going to a music store after school, Sayaka will ask you to during lunch."
“How do you...?” Madoka is about to ask before realizing the answer has been basically shouted at her.
“Time travel.” Homura confirms.
“Right...” Madoka also sighs.
Homura continues, “He’ll be there today, attempting to lure you into a witch’s labyrinth so you can be saved by Mami.”
“Wait, witches? Witches are real?” For some reason, this shocks her.
“Not the witches from fairy tales.” Homura clarifies. “Something far worse. They transcend space itself and hunt humans for food.”
“Is...” Madoka begins to guess “...Is this a magical girl thing, an alien thing, or a time travel thing?”
“Yes.”
They stand in silence. “That...didn’t clarify anything.” Madoka thinks to herself. “I don’t...get it.” she says aloud.
Homura pops her soul gem out and shows it to her, “This is my soul.”
Madoka throws her hands up, “Too much!”
But Homura insists, “This is important! You need to know this! This gem here is my soul. When I’m not in uniform, it looks like a ring on my left hand, or an egg when it’s standing up. If I’m more than 100 meters away from it, I won’t be able to control my body anymore. It will look like I died. If this gem ever breaks, I will die. As long as it stays intact, I can survive anything, even being blown up. If it becomes completely black, I will also die. That is why it is VERY important for you to know to not touch it, under any circumstance, unless you’re returning it to me. Understand?”
At this point, Madoka is more distracted from the information overload by the shiny gem than anything. She tries to reach out and touch it.
“What are— I told you not to touch it!” Homura yanks it away and puts it back in its usual slot.
Madoka snaps out of it, “Oh, sorry, it was just... Are you sure I can’t just rub it a little?”
“You want to rub my soul ?” Homura clarifies.
Madoka can’t bring herself to answer that one, “...Well, when you say it like that...”
Homura can’t express her disappointment. Both for lack of motivation and lack of sufficient facial muscles. Instead, she just gives up, “Okay, fine, you can touch it a little.”
Madoka lights up and grabs her arm, gently rubbing the gem up and down. Despite not feeling anything from it, it’s still somehow embarrassing to be on the receiving end of. In a matter of seconds, she changes her mind, “That’s enough. let’s go back to class. I’ve told you everything I needed to.”
Madoka is slightly crestfallen, but agrees and goes along with her. The rest of the day is uneventful, although Sayaka can’t help but notice that Madoka is repeatedly stealing some very candid glimpses of the weird transfer student with an intrigued blush on her cheeks.
But when Madoka recounts the conversation they had over a meal, Sayaka goes from happily munching away and teasing her about a possible crush to blankly staring at the table in disbelief in a matter of seconds. Hitomi is the first to tell her that those are all major red flags, but Madoka dismisses that as undue skepticism of a girl who is “probably just misunderstood”.