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Mami was more than a little surprised when a new magical girl showed up in Mitakihara Town. Kyubey usually warned her when he was planning to recruit a girl in the nearby area; Mami preferred to coordinate her efforts with other magical girls when she could, so as to avoid unnecessary conflict, and Kyubey had always seemed to respect that. Besides, the last time Kyubey had contracted had been about a year ago, a girl named Natsuko who'd barely lasted two months before succumbing. The experience had been… unsettling, to put it mildly. Mami had never known a magical girl to burn out so quickly. Kyubey either hadn't found anyone else capable of contracting since then, or wasn't trying. Mami was almost glad of that.

Mami had spent a year hunting alone (thinking about Kyouko sometimes, wondering how she was doing in Kazamino and trying not to hurt), so it was a bit of a shock when, while hunting Wraiths one night, she came across a girl who was doing the same thing.

Actually, the girl was vaguely familiar, in a way. She was a short slip of a girl with pale skin, dull, flat eyes and very long black hair, and the sight of her set a faint prickling in Mami's memory. Then she remembered some of her classmates talking about the eighth-graders getting a new student, vaguely remembered seeing someone with long black hair walk by in the hallway. That must have been where she remembered her from.

The girl's name was Akemi Homura. She fought with bow and arrow. And you know, when Mami looked into Homura's eyes, she got the impression that Homura might not have been so new to the business of being a magical girl after all.

"Ah… Akemi-san?" Mami called out after the Wraiths disappeared and their Grief Cubes were distributed.

Homura paused, though she did not turn around. She had switched back to her regular clothes and seemed to fade into the background of sandstone and dull metal poles so prevalent in this part of town. "What is it?"

Her total lack of inflection was a touch off-putting (not to mention the fact that Homura hadn't even turned around to face her), but Mami recovered quickly. She fixed a bright smile to her face (more for her own benefit, since Homura couldn't see her) and took a step forward. "Akemi-san, you don't seem like a rookie, but you are new here. If you like, I can show you around town tomorrow after school. You'd do well to know where the best hunting spots are."

Even under the dim lamplight, when Homura stiffened, it was immediately noticeable. The wind picked up, blowing the younger girl's hair to and fro. Mami caught sight of Homura staring at her out of one pale purplish eye; she was startled by how shocked Homura looked.

But when Homura turned round, she had clearly recovered her composure, her face mask-like. She opened her mouth, and hesitated. For a moment, Mami was sure Homura would say 'yes.' To no avail. "No thank you, Tomoe-san. I think I can find my way around by myself."

Without another word, Homura walked away.

Mami's heart sank as she watched Homura retreat into the darkness. It's been so long since I last had someone to fight alongside, she thought to herself gloomily. How nice would it have been to have someone like that again?

She shook her head, tried to clear her mind of such thoughts. It wasn't good for a magical girl to entertain such thoughts, especially not so soon after a taxing fight. If Homura wanted her space, Mami would give it to her. A city as sleek and bright as Mitakihara always paid a steep emotional price for its glittering façades. In a city like this, there were more than enough Wraiths to go around.

-0-0-0-

Over the next few days, Mami tried to put Homura from her mind. A new magical girl, Miki Sayaka, had contracted with Kyubey, and Kyouko had shown up intent on stirring up trouble. Mami found her hands full enough with training Sayaka and keeping Sayaka and Kyouko from each other's throats. She didn't really have time to worry about Homura causing trouble as well.

Surprisingly, though, Homura seemed just as intent as Mami on keeping the peace. Where Mami focused on training Sayaka and shadowing her to keep violence from erupting if they encountered Kyouko, Homura appeared to be trying to keep Kyouko from starting anything with Sayaka. Whenever Kyouko showed up, Homura was always close behind, determinedly trying to get Kyouko to back down.

"Thank you, Akemi-san," Mami said tiredly, after Sayaka and Kyouko went their separate ways.

Homura looked away sharply. They stood beneath the dying sun of the late afternoon, leaning against the railing of a pedestrian bridge over the highway. The world was dyed blood red and harsh, blinding gold with the sun's colors.

"I'd rather I didn't have to do this at all," Homura muttered. "Miki Sayaka's decision wasn't a wise one."

Mami sighed heavily. "I don't think her wish was a good one either." It was never a good idea to spend your one wish on someone else, especially if you weren't sure if you were wishing selflessly or not. Mami was afraid that Sayaka's wish for that boy wasn't as selfless as she had thought it was. She wouldn't be suffering so much over his lack of acknowledgment if it had been a completely selfless wish. "But she's just going to have to make the best of it now."

To this, Homura shook her head jerkily. "No. I've seen girls like her. They…" She sucked in a deep breath, and Mami looked at her, concerned, but as with that first night, Homura soon composed her face back into an impassive mask. "Girls like her don't last very long," Homura said, evenly enough, though something flashed behind her eyes that seemed to bely that calmness. "She would have done better not to have contracted at all."

"It was Miki-san's choice to make, not yours," Mami rebuked her, frowning lightly at Homura. She could understand being upset, but the world needed magical girls to fight Wraiths. They were the shield between the malice of the Wraiths and the vulnerable populations not in the know. To suggest that someone should not have made the difference to become that shield…

Homura turned and looked at her, then. Her face sagged, her brow furrowed; with tiredness and weariness making her shoulders droop, she looked far older than her years. The look in her eyes as she searched Mami's face wasn't anger, wasn't accusation, wasn't anything like that. There was something haunted in her eyes, something troubled, some almost desperate light shining out of them, but then, she turned her face away, and stared down at the ground instead.

There was a look Mami had seen before, though it was not exact in its resemblance. How many nights had she woken in a cold sweat, tossing aside her bed sheets gasping, only to stumble to the mirror and see her own wild, desperate eyes staring back at her? Secret things she held close to her chest, secret things that never saw the light of day. Fears and shames she never confided in anyone, but often feared was plainly visible to everyone around her. Surely everyone must have seen the stains of weakness on her.

Mami opened her mouth to speak, but her mind ran dry of words. What consolation could she offer Homura? She knew so little about her, and did not even know where to begin asking questions. All Mami knew was that Homura's time as a magical girl had clearly worn her down, the way it wore everyone down, eventually.

So instead, Mami squeezed Homura's shoulder comfortingly, and then went off to look for Sayaka.

There would be time enough later.

-0-0-0-

At first, Homura didn't know why she should care at all. One timeline was much like another, blurring together and eventually becoming a tangled, tortured mess of repeated months that in many ways were indistinguishable from each other. There was only pain, and frustration, and increasing numbness, and above that, the mounting, pervasive sense of futility as she failed again and again, as Madoka died again and again. If she failed, she would try again. There was always that. (And if she lost another piece of her heart when she watched Madoka died again, when she shed mortal form and the monstrous form of a Witch emerged again, the loss of her heart, piece by piece by piece, was an acceptable one.)

A timeline without Madoka in it didn't seem like a timeline worth living in, so at first, Homura found that she cared even less than usual. She sat in apathy, uncaring of the world, and it was only the too-deeply-ingrained survival instinct that drove her to hunt Wraiths for their Grief Cubes.

But it seemed that her incomplete heart held mysteries to bewilder even her.

"I'm happy to be able to save even one person."

Maybe it had something to do with that.

She still struggled, and struggle was such a central facet of Homura's life that she barely noted it at all. She tried to convince Sayaka not to contract—how many times had she watched Sayaka contract only to succumb to despair?—and failing that, tried to keep Kyouko from antagonizing Sayaka unnecessarily, which inevitably served to speed Sayaka's descent. She did not ally herself with Mami, but neither did she court her displeasure. She resisted the urge to shoot Kyubey whenever she saw him. She felt as though she was trying to keep a scarf from unraveling, and all the while someone was pulling on a loose thread.

It hurt so much. Why did it still hurt so much? She had struggled for so long, and watched the others struggle, only to fall. She was used to seeing them despair. She was used to seeing them break down. She was used to seeing them die.

So why, then?

Not even Homura could answer that question. This was all new to her. She never knew what to do anymore. When she'd thought of the time loops, she'd never thought about what would come afterwards.

(And not even in her darkest dreams had she imagined that 'after' would be like this.)

-0-0-0-

When the Wraiths at the train station vanished, Sayaka had vanished too. That was the way of it, but Mami still felt a hard lump form in her throat.

Natsuko had succumbed within a month, and Mami thought that heinously quick. But Sayaka had proven even quicker to succumb than Natsuko, for Sayaka had not even lasted two weeks.

Kyouko slammed her fist against a brick pillar and hissed something under her breath, her face contorted with pain. Sometime, somehow, she had found it in herself to care about Sayaka. Mami was glad to know that someone had been capable of piercing the shell of apathy surrounding Kyouko's heart (even if it couldn't be her), but could not deny her sadness in knowing that that person was gone so soon afterwards.

It was the law of cycles. A magical girl vanished before her hope could turn to despair, and her despair was inflicted on others. But Sayaka should have been allowed more time.

Behind her, Homura said a single word in a voice thick with tears ("Madoka!") and walked away from the train station on unsteady feet.

-0-0-0-

Homura found herself at a covered skyway, one of so many that she forgot their number and their names, her arm pressed against a cold stone pillar and her forehead pressed against the clammy gunmetal of a pillar, and her forehead pressed against her arm. Her blood roared in her ears. Tears burned in her eyes, but she couldn't cry. A scream rose in her throat, but no noise would escape her mouth. Two thin lengths of red silk ribbon dangled from her upheld hand, blowing lazily in the breeze.

I receive the sign I'd not dared to hope for, and only after I failed again. But that makes sense, I suppose. After all, I couldn't save Madoka; what made me think I could ever save Miki Sayaka? I wasn't strong enough to save Madoka. Why did I think I could be strong enough to save Sayaka?

Why did I try to start with?

The only answer she could give herself: Maybe your heart, however broken, is not dead as you thought it.

But those thoughts would not bring back Miki Sayaka, and they would not bring back Kaname Madoka.

Homura lifted her head just far enough to stare at the twin hair ribbons that had materialized in her hand. Why now? She wondered, numbness seeping into her again. They smelled of stardust and ozone. Why only now? Why not earlier?

Why not more?

Why only this?

Low, steady footsteps echoed off of the stone-and-metal ceiling.

"It was her choice," Mami said quietly. Her expression was one of sadness, mingled with calm, weary acceptance.

Homura stared at her. If she looked wild-eyed, she did not care. "Was it really?" she asked her. Homura could barely hear her own voice.

It seemed like fate, at times. Whenever Sayaka contracted, she didn't survive the month. If it wasn't one thing that broke her, it was another. Her death was inevitable, her transformation into a Witch only slightly less inevitable. And Sayaka seemed to be inexorably drawn towards contracting—if she knew anything at all about magical girls and Witches, she always contracted.

Over time, that had become the way with Madoka as well. If she learned about magical girls, about Witches, she inevitably contracted. Perhaps it was just in her nature, kind-hearted as she was, to want to alleviate the suffering of others, but it was as though fate was driving her towards becoming a magical girl, becoming a Witch (A Witch Homura could not fight; she had killed Madoka once already and would never do so again, even to save her own life). Homura turned away from Mami and pressed her forehead back against her arm, screwing her eyes shut.

If it was fate, how much choice had Madoka or Sayaka had?

Mami laid her hands on Homura's shoulders. Even through her clothing, Homura noticed the gentle warmth radiating from them; every other inch of her felt ice cold. "Akemi-san… Homura-san… Whatever pain you feel… You are not alone. You must know that. If there's anything you want to tell me, I'll listen."

Homura stiffened, and for several moments made no response. She reached back with her empty hand and found Mami's. She wasn't sure why she felt the need to probe the back of Mami's hand (maybe just to reassure herself that she was really there), but found her hand warm, and swallowed hard.

She nodded stiffly, and she and Mami walked into the night together.