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It wasn’t natural— what she felt, she thought. The ticking of the clock in her empty apartment echoed mockingly. Homura sat in a labyrinth of her own making; unsure how long she wished to play this game. It was a dollhouse, essentially. A stage, a play. She was required to play her part no matter what.
Madoka danced in her thoughts endlessly. It wasn’t meant to be like this. She was supposed to meet and be her friend. They were supposed to live out the rest of their middle school years together. Their only hardships were meant to be mundane things— not passing classes, having a disagreement, worrying if they were going to go to the same high school.
If only Homura successfully killed the Incubator years ago. Though she supposed killing an alien creature from a different world wasn’t meant to be easy for a fourteen year old— if she could even call herself that age anymore.
The bags under her eyes weighed heavily on her face and the skin around her fingers were bitten raw. The pain she felt was almost a comfort at this point, she couldn’t remember how it felt to be happy. Bringing The Law of Cycles down from heaven only proved to make her feel worse.
Amethyst eyes danced around her apartment. It was as though no one lived in it at all, or hadn’t lived there in years. Dust coated the counters and the faucet dripped endlessly. There was no use in fixing it. It would all end soon anyway. It was getting harder and harder to keep Madoka from waking up— to realize her potential, her godhood. If Homura closed her eyes, she could still see the gold gleaming from Madoka’s eyes, lighting up the hallway as the scenery transformed around them.
Madoka would never approve of what she’d done. She had known when she did it, but as time passed it became clearer. She watched the rest of the Holy Quintet often. Even with the ability to live a normal life like they finally could, Homura could sense that they still felt something was wrong.
This world was being held together by a thin string, even the slightest sharp edge could unravel it.
It was coming close to falling apart. Gold shimmered in Madoka’s eyes and fell from her fingertips when Homura saw her now. Sayaka’s looks of apathy began to wither and were being replaced with a look of understanding that only the Law of Cycles could give her. Mami and Kyoko seemed more afraid than usual and Nagisa kept her distance as well.
She supposed it couldn’t be perfect forever. Her act was impulsive and selfish. She wondered idly, if she did it right, could they all be living obliviously right now? She wished she had the forethought to think that far. Her only thought as the Law of Cycles descended on her was that Madoka was real and alive and beautiful. Her dear friend that she wasn’t sure existed, came down to take her away.
She should’ve let Madoka take her away. Her misery could’ve ended there.
Homura imagined what the Magical Girl Heaven that Madoka created would have been like for her. She imagined it to be a sparkling and glistening place, magical girls that succumbed to their despair living happily with The Law of Cycles to guide them. Her golden eyes watching over everyone as she carried more fallen magical girls to her utopia. Madoka probably led with kindness and empathy— Although the magical girls had passed, they were sure to be happy in her radiating presence. She couldn’t imagine it would be anything like the hellscape she created here on Earth.
Her Clara Dolls mocked her endlessly. They stood in the shadows as she watched quietly over the Holy Quintet girls. Remnants of smashed tomatoes followed her footsteps, sometimes she would feel them be crushed under her shoes when one of them aimed perfectly. Eventually, she stopped reacting to them— No one ever saw the tomatoes except for her anyway.
The loneliness was harder than usual this time around. She could handle it before Madoka became the Law of Cycles, and while it was bad without Madoka after she made her wish, Mami, Kyoko, and Sayaka eased the pain ever so slightly. She would never admit it to them, though.
But this sort of power— It’s reliant on using all of Homura’s strength to keep it all together. It’s difficult to get close to anyone in this world she’s created. Madoka is right in front of her every day and she can’t reach out or confide in her like she used to almost a millennium ago now.
Madoka’s afraid of her now. The bright confidence she had upon their first ever meeting had dwindled to a hushed whisper whenever she’s in the room. She barely addressed her unless Homura engaged first. She couldn’t blame her, really.
She’d caught herself several times speaking to the Clara Dolls with no regard to who’s around. Sometimes the whispers under her breath were loud enough for bystanders to hear. It was difficult to focus when she could see her patchworked world starting to split at the seam. Every night, she patched it up herself with her own two hands. But the splits were getting bigger and more frequent as time passed.
Homura wondered what would happen if she died. Could she die in this world? She wasn’t sure. It’s her own world, her own prison. What was the difference between her new world order and the witch’s labyrinths anyway?
She only vaguely remembered becoming a witch before all of this happened. Glimmers of regret and despair were the only thing on her mind then— So, she felt like nothing had really changed.
A mirror became her worst enemy, highlighting just how far she had fallen. None of her classmates acknowledged her. She found it easier and less painful to conceal her presence while she was in class. Everyone was much more comfortable without her there. She didn’t blame them, she hated herself too.
Every now and then, Homura would try to be kind to her old friends. She would leave gifts sometimes, like an apple for Kyoko or a good pastry for Mami. She was too afraid to let them know she left those for them. The thought of what they would do once they found out they were gifts from Homura— She knew it would be hurtful. So, she watched from afar as her Clara Dolls hurled insults at her.
She needed help. But how does one ask for help with a fate of her own choosing? Does she let the paper-thin barrier rip? The only thing on her mind was what Madoka would think of her now. The first Madoka, the one she came to know, the one that saved her life. She would never be this broken, this weak, this exhausted.
Nowadays, the Clara Dolls were telling her to let go. To free that girl. She should listen to them. This world is close to imploding anyway.
One day, she spoke to Madoka. They sat on the rooftop of Mitakihara Middle School, the wind whipped their hair around wildly. With every glance, Homura could see Madoka was tense, even as Homura herself shook as she spoke with her.
“Madoka, how does one let go?” Homura mumbled.
Madoka flinched a little, then thought very seriously about her answer, “Mmm, I-I don’t know really. It’s hard to let go of the things you love and cherish, but sometimes if it’s for the better, letting go can make you feel so much lighter. Why do you ask, H-Homura…chan?”
Her fists clenched so hard that her nails dug into her palm and her eyes stung with tears. She couldn’t keep it up any longer. The final show would be soon. The concrete crunched under her shoe as she turned on her heel, leaving Madoka to enjoy the rooftop alone.
It was almost as if she could hear the ticking of the tape, counting down until the finale. The Clara Dolls danced eagerly around her, knowing this was their final hurrah. They stopped throwing tomatoes, now chucking flowers and confetti as Homura made her way to a nearby cliff. It reminded her of the first night that she created this world. She was optimistic, even if she had been broken for many years prior.
She didn’t know where the rest of the Holy Quintet were. She wouldn’t warn them, it wouldn’t make sense to them anyway. Soon, Homura would be a distant memory. Something they could all laugh and bond over, or perhaps they wouldn’t remember her at all. It was fine with her, as long as they could be free.
With one last look over Mitakihara, Homura let go. Her eyes flitted and she felt the seams of her world rip open from her fingertips. Her Clara Dolls cheered, seemingly thankful that they wouldn’t have to torment their mistress anymore. The power released from her hands, a rush of relief filling her body. She felt sad, broken, but ultimately lighter.
In the distance, a bright golden light shined and shimmered in the middle of the city.
Her body shook as she attempted to stand, her magic was completely depleted. Homura's eyes stared up at the vacant, clear sky as she laid back. As her eyes shut, she heard an echoey voice that sounded like wind chimes.
"I thought I told you not to go off on your own!" It said.
Warm tears fell slowly from her eyes and Homura sobbed loudly into the emptiness of the night.