Chapter 1: Deepening Colors

The red ribbon twined around the crown of Homura's head snapped lightly against the back of her neck in the gripping wind as the girl sat crouched behind a stone outcropping, observing the thickening miasma a number of stories below her feet. The air around her skin sank its frigid teeth into her, but the girl easily shrugged it off. Conditions which would have inconvenienced others were but common acquaintances to her environment now; countless nights had been burned away slinking through the freezing night sky.

"It seems you aren't capable of personally manufacturing every explosive on the market," A hunched, shrouded shadow remarked, hidden from the moon's influence so that only its gleaming red eyes shone through.

Homura finished priming her shield and tucked her hair behind her ear before glancing unfeelingly at her companion. "No, I could. But there wouldn't be enough time to actually put them to use if I put the effort in."

Shifting her weight, she rose to her feet and observed the building sitting across the alley. It was a broad, flat warehouse, generally one with the darkness save for a few dimly glowing lights within. It was a Yakuza hideout, one of many scattered throughout the city. Homura had an unavoidable reason to have an interest in this particular location tonight, but she usually would have stayed away from areas where potential conflicts could erupt and force her to expend unnecessary energy.

A wry smile tugged at the corners of the magical girl's lips. Kyubey is rubbing off on me. She laughed at it now, but at times when the night crowded around her, suffocating and unforgiving, Homura lamented the gradual withering of her own humanity. Her existence had once been entirely comprised of objectives and means to various ends, and even in this new universe which Madoka's desires had manufactured, such a fate continued to haunt her. When she had first begun to leap back in time to rewrite another's demise, she had begun to consider Kyubey's race to be the very antithesis to her own.

Now she could only watch as she became more and more like an Incubator.

Breathing heavily through her nose and shaking her head to clear the vindicating thoughts, Homura raised her shield arm so Kyubey could leap up onto her shoulder. Once she felt the weight of the alien's mass on her person, the Incubator's voice spoke into her ear.

"True enough. More and more demons are appearing every night. Taking a break to gather supplies today will mean more work tomorrow."

"Well, you'll have to manage," Homura replied blandly as she crouched as to more effectively spread her wings. "You wouldn't want me dying simply from running out of equipment, would you?"

"That would set our energy collecting schedule back significantly," The white skinned creature admitted, as its contractee's back shimmered for a moment and produced two widely bearing wings. Leaping down from the ledge she had been occupying, the girl allowed herself only one strong, stealthy buffet to keep herself from striking against the pavement below. Landing soundlessly on her toes, Homura readied her shield and checked both ends of the alley for any witnesses. Finding none, she set her jaw and reached up to begin scaling the side of the warehouse.

Kyubey's weight on her shoulder made the climb require a modicum more exertion, but she didn't find it inconvenient enough to evict the creature. The alien seemed to enjoy observing her fighting and stealth techniques, apparently rather intrigued by the concept of battling through the manipulation of time, and Homura was willing to accommodate for this to a certain extent. After all, she no longer had a reason to hide the secrets and advantages of her magic.

Not since then.

Flexing her gloved hands, Homura launched herself upwards and seized the edge of the warehouse's scaffolding. She could have used her abilities to simply fly to the top of the building, but such a move would have attracted too much attention, and she was more than aware of the Yakuza's habits of being overprotective of their merchandise. She had even had to reduce the amounts of weapons she stole during raids, because if even a slight discrepancy was noticed security would be tripled during the next infiltration. Just another complication among many.

Two months. Homura swung her leg over the ledge of the roof at last and hauled herself atop the warehouse, feeling her arm hairs prickle where they met the frozen metal. Two months since she had awoken in a restructured universe, the sole individual who was aware that such a change had ever taken place. Two months since she had first seen the red ribbons pooling in her hands and realized the extent of her friend's sacrifice. Two months before witches were removed from the fabric of existence, thus ceasing the endless cycle of despair and curses which had taken Miki Sayaka from them.

Picking her way across the flat steel surface, Homura reached one of the skylights and peeked over the edge of the opening to observe the situation. She had actually been surprised for a moment to note the turning of a month for the first time in what had to have been eternity; she had spent a thousand lifetimes trying to break the cycle by preventing Madoka's death, a stretch so long that the very concept of time had shrunk to encompass only the single month in which she had worked in. Thus, being able to wake up one morning and actually turn the page on her calendar had felt oddly surreal to her.

Normalcy had become an anomaly.

It had also forced her to accept the current circumstances. As Homura eyed the various guards patrolling the warehouse's confines with clubs and bats slung lazily over their shoulders, she remembered the promise that had been made to her before the very fabric of reality had been twisted and torn apart. A promise that she and Madoka would meet again, despite being on different planes of existence, despite the fact that her best friend had become nothing greater than a concept, the concept of hope itself.

It was a vow Homura knew she couldn't trust, no matter who it may have come from. The world never allowed for such miracles.

Waiting until no guards were watching the specific area under the skylight, she slipped through the opening and landed softly on the mesh walkways criss crossing just under the roof. Keeping low to obscure her profile, the time user slipped down the ladders under she reached ground level, darting to hide behind a pile of sturdy crates. There were only about five lights overhead to light the massive interior, the lack of illumination giving the rusted walls a sickly, seething look. Breaking cover to roll behind another pile of boxes, Homura waited until Kyubey caught up to her to eavesdrop of the guards' conversations.

"The boss is too fucking paranoid, if you ask me," A gruff voice complained from somewhere down the side.

"I don't totally disagree with you, but it's not like anybody's going to convince him to let up a little," Another voice responded. Keeping careful track of the distance of the voices, Homura murmured, "Don't let go," To Kyubey before activating her shield's magic.

Her surroundings immediately froze, although the chance was not especially noticeable as nothing had really been moving to begin with. All color of all spectrum's were drained from the environment, leaving everything black and gray around her as the girl jammed the rim of her shield into the lid of a box and began to pry it open. Homura had wondered at first as to why all of her surroundings lost their hues when she froze time; after some consideration, she had concluded that since time had been stopped, the light wavelengths around her must have as well. An object's color was usually determined by the speed of the wavelengths it gave off through light, so when all movement was halted all color would flee as well.

[Why not just drive out the guards and claim this entire stash for yourself?] Kyubey questioned through his telepathy. If the inquiry had come from anybody, no, anything else, she would have considered it an attempt to goad her into an evil deed. But this was Kyubey, and it was obvious that the remark had only been made out of a desire for practicality.

[I don't want to hurt them. Besides, I don't need so much,] Homura replied curtly as she reached into the now open crate and began scooping flash grenades into a sack she had brought along with her.

[Perhaps not now, but all this equipment could last you for years,] Kyubey pressed as it glanced about at the mountains of boxes around them. [I'm sure it'll end up being worth the expense of only a few individuals.]

[Human life is a value, not a statistic,] Homura replied without attempting to press her own points. She had given up on trying to comprehend or revert the alien's mindset long ago. The culture and civilization Kyubey hailed from was different from theirs in every imaginable aspect. Truly, an antithesis to humanity.

She couldn't see it, but Homura imagined the white creature blinking its blank ruby eyes. [Values can change.]

Deciding that she wouldn't deign to answer that reversal, Homura tied her sack closed and replaced the lid on the now empty crate. The Yakuza probably wouldn't notice this one little theft. Checking her time and realizing she was running out of it, she quickly crept back up to the skylight and pulled herself onto the rooftop before allowing her powers to recede.

It was like the entire world had let out a breath it was holding. It did, in a way, as the wind was released and ran swiftly by her ear again. The cars rolling past her resumed their journeys, and colors slowly returned to paint the vivid portrait of reality. Standing still for a moment, Homura allowed herself a moment to readjust. Returning from time-freeze always made her realize that there was no such thing as complete and utter inactivity. The universe itself was always moving, seething, vibrating.

Suddenly feeling like a great weight had spontaneously accumulated upon her shoulders, Homura caved in and allowed her shoulders to sag momentarily. Madoka's wish had broken the malicious cycle, but this had only been replaced by a lesser evil.

When will this end? Her mind began to break free of its usual self confinement. She had found that the best way to evade the more entrapping conclusions of her life was to not think about them; but no one could even deny that they were always there, lurking beneath the surface. Ready to break her.

Flexing her knees, she leapt to the adjacent building, Kyubey bounding after her. A burning sun broke the cloud cover and began its steady rise over the horizon to her right, bleeding its rays over the sluggish cityscape. The abrupt brightness caused Homura to squint and turn her head in the opposite direction, forcing her to look at the parts of the city still wrapped in the night's arms.

There, the magical girl thought as she took in the vapor curling lazily upwards from a smokestack, was what she was fighting to protect. This world, or perhaps more specifically this city, and all its inhabitants which Madoka had sacrificed herself for. Homura felt no affection towards her home herself; many of her fellow demon hunters may have criticized her for battling not for her own desires, but another's.

Initially, she had felt utterly alone at the realization that only she herself retained any reputable memories of Madoka. Then she had realized that her isolation paled in juxtaposition to her friend's; Homura was not completely isolated in her suffering. Madoka was.

Blinking hard and running a couple fingers through her long black mane to calm herself, Homura said, "Let's go," To Kyubey before unfurling her wings and taking off into the night sky.

Homura could feel her heart rate immediately relaxing when her fingers brushed across the worn wood of her front door, pushing open the entrance to slip inside. Her residence was a tall, narrow building sitting between a Y-intersection within an area of the city which had missed the recent wave of urban redevelopment. She could see the vast, reaching arcs of the city's more advanced regions over the rooftops from her second story window, but the immediate neighborhood around her was more rugged. Retro-modern, she used to call it.

Her own building was designed in what might have been called a Victorian style, but Homura couldn't claim to possess any particular knowledge in architecture. That was one regret she had; what with battling demons, keeping up with surveillance and trying to grasp the implications of the restructured universe, there was hardly any free time for even a minuscule devotion to her education. She worked hard enough to earn passable grades, but she never achieved anything spectacular. Homura knew it was best to lurk under the radar, anyway. Despite her desires.

The familiar atmosphere wreathed around her when she entered the hall and shut the door behind her, plunging everything into darkness. Reaching out to her side, she flicked a switch and waited as the lights fixed to the ceiling flickered to life. Finally, Homura let her guard down as she shrugged off her jacket and kicked off her shoes, setting them neatly by the entrance before treading deeper within her domain.

This building had always been of great comfort to her. She had been set up here a very long time ago, long before she had ever met Madoka or heard of the Puella Magi. It had been a massive relief when she had first leapt back in time to be able to return to something she recognized. Throughout all the timelines and various universes, her home had remained one of the few constants. It was her command centre, a place for planning, a place to retreat to.

The walls around her widened considerably as she entered the central room. A broad, sturdy table sat between two semicircular couches, which in turn was surrounded by even larger ones. Yet the most notable feature of her room was, of course, the multitude of screens fixed to the walls, or even hanging around the edges of the interior, each one displaying its own special brand of information. A few were dedicated to watching the area around her building, wired directly to security cameras hidden to inform her of any unwanted visitors, but the vast majority were there to supply information on her targets.

Kyubey stalked out of the shadows at the corner of the room and leapt atop the table, sitting back on its haunches to take in the sight. "You've gathered a considerable amount of information," The alien observed.

Homura took a seat on the inner couch and leaned back on one of her hands. "Yes. I haven't been able to deduce any patterns in the demons' appearances, though. They appear to be totally randomized."

The white creature turned its egg-shaped head and glanced at another screen. "This is..." He began to say.

She finished it for him. "The hunting patterns of the other two," She supplied, by which she meant Mami and Kyouko.

If it had been capable of it, Kyubey would have frowned. "Why are you tracking their movements? It doesn't benefit you in any way."

"I have an obligation to protect them," Homura said without emotion. She wanted to ensure Kyubey understood that monitoring Mami and Kyouko was also part of their mission, but she didn't want to appear overly sentimental about it, either. After all, the Incubators' race didn't value expression.

"Does this have to do with your theory again?" Kyubey asked her, cocking its head in her direction.

"It's not a theory," Homura insisted. Honestly, she didn't even know why she tried to convince the white rat about the alternate reality only she remembered. Even she herself had to admit that it seemed entirely implausible that such a thing had ever taken place. But Madoka was real, and her memories were real, and Homura had long since decided never to fully trust anyone but herself.

Kyubey twisted its body and lay on its back, showing a smooth white underbelly. "I'm not implying that such a thing never could have taken place. It is entirely possible. But the likelihood is extremely microscopic, not to mention that there is no evidence around to suggest such a happening."

"You told me yourself that she elevated herself onto an entirely different existential scale after making that wish," Homura replied. "Even you would have to admit that the very existence of magical girls defies logic. So why couldn't one become a god?"

The alien crouching on her table picked itself back up and turned to face her fully. "Again, it isn't entirely impossible. But what does it matter now? If this Madoka you speak of really exists as a god, we no longer have anything to do with her."

"This has everything to do with her," Homura reversed, allowing her natural frown to cut a little deeper into her face. "Her sacrifice is the entire reason why I'm fighting. It's the driving force behind every arrow I fire and every demon I slay."

Kyubey shook itself and looked back at the screen displaying Mami and Kyouko's movement patterns. "Is that why you choose to watch over them?"

"Yes. I was never particularly fond of either of them, but Madoka chose to breathe life back into their bodies. I won't let that go to waste."

"What will you do, then?" The white creature countered, floundering its voluminous tail to emphasize its inquiry. "Recruit them to fight by your side? There is a reason why the three of you drifted apart, after all."

Unfortunately, Homura could not dispute that. In the wake of Miki Sayaka's death, there had been a great conflict among the three who remained. Mami and Kyouko had struggled initially to accept the blue haired girl's passing, but Homura, who had already experienced the tragedy long ago, had not been as easily effected. No, she was more preoccupied with coping with the idea that her best friend had become a concept, an idea.

While her companions obviously didn't completely understand the reasoning behind her lack of mourning, they understood enough to take offense. And Kyouko, being the most passionate of them all, had risen to her feet, driven by her rage, regret and confusion, and seized Homura by the collar. Why wasn't she mourning? Why didn't she care? What could possibly be so important as to eclipse the loss of their friend? How could you call yourself human? Homura had looked back at the redhead's eyes, seen the angry questions thrashing within them, and despaired upon realizing that she could never answer them. It had become clear to her at that moment that no one else solidly remembered Madoka.

Self justification had become an impossibility.

That incident had been the beginning of the end. Only more questions followed Homura afterwards. Why did she shirk away from them as if they were ghosts? Why did she grow so uneasy whenever her Soul Gem was on the verge of shattering, when they could simply be replaced? Why couldn't she tell them where those red ribbons had come from?

Because you died! Because before, it meant the end. Because you would never believe me, Homura had screamed at them in her head with every accusation, every suspicious probe. She had managed to bring up the topic of Madoka only once, and it had been brushed off as "a bullshit excuse," by Kyouko. The rift between herself and the other two, which had at this point become quite literally universal, became too much of a hindrance during hunting sessions. Even Mami began to scrutinize the odd nature of Homura's abilities; how was she so particularly strong, and where had the wings come from? What had already been an uneasy alliance quickly soured under such circumstances.

So she had begun to take kills on her own. She no longer waited at designated rendezvous points for her companions, instead opting to work alone. From an objective standpoint, this was actually beneficial; fighting alongside Mami and Kyouko had had its advantages, but ultimately the pairing had slowed her down. Homura knew this conclusion should have satisfied her, but it only wrenched the emptiness inside her heart a little bit wider. Firstly, it meant that she was neglecting Madoka's sacrifice by not watching over those she had chosen to save.

And secondly...secondly, it meant that now she was truly, and utterly, alone.

The realization had almost broken her. Over the countless time leaps, Homura had learned how to steel her emotions to almost any sort of trauma, but now that her mission was completed the girl's mental resolve had crumbled somewhat. This allowed for the softer, fleshier version of herself to emerge more prominently in her actions. The timid, compliant Homura who had always been so naive and faithful.

She had walked away from her companions in a storm of confusion. In her frustration, Homura had genuinely wondered why Madoka had chosen to save such individuals, even if they were fellow Puella Magi. She had set herself on a path to exist separately from them by choosing to leave their company rather than flesh out their issues. Yet there were nights when, in the back of her mind, the magical girl had considered the fact that she may have been mistaken in her judgement.

Impossible, she had dismissed initially. How could she, who was vastly more experienced and aware of the situation, be in the wrong? Yet there was always the nagging question. Madoka may have been naive, but she was not foolish. Her best friend must have seen some particular worth in Mami and Kyouko to salvage their souls. And so, after months of deliberating and backtracking, Homura had decided to try and resolve her ties to her companions. Partly to prevent Madoka's wish from being for naught.

Partly to satiate her own curiosity.

"The reason why we broke apart was a lack of communication," Homura said at last firmly. "I failed to explain myself properly to them, and I can't blame anybody for reacting negatively to that. If I go back and fix our misunderstandings, I don't expect any additional obstacles."

Kyubey just offered back its usual blank stare. "Whatever you say. As long as I get to do my job. Just remember, the lives of two Puella Magi aren't worth the battle against entropy." The white creature leapt deftly off the table it had been occupying and padded along the slick ivory floor to leave, only to pause as if a thought had occurred to it. Then, shaking its head, the alien murmured, "I never will comprehend your race," Before melding into the shadows.

The feeling is entirely mutual.

Rising from her seat, Homura walked across the room to go to bed. It had been a long day; rest was always a requirement. She paused for a moment at the door, glancing at the axe-like pendulum making its endless courses through the air, and was reminded of the difference between a constant and an inevitability.

Flicking the lights off, she retired for the night.

The sound of scratching pencils dominated the airspace as the class worked at the test which had been distributed to them. Homura, who had completed the exam several minutes prior, sat observing her peers think while waiting for the period to end. She was occupying her customary seat in the second row, meaning she could only stare at so many people without turning around and looking ridiculous. She had always been the type to favor the back end of the classroom, actually, but such a placement would worsen her grades which were so difficult to maintain to begin with. Homura was simply glad demons did not appear during the mornings or afternoons. That would have certainly wreaked havoc on her schedule.

Finally losing interest in her classmates, the magical girl turned her head and looked out the window. It was a beautiful day, featuring a vibrant sun and few clouds to speak of. However, she enjoyed the sight for different reasons than most. More sunlight meant less demons.

Glancing back at the students chewing their pencils intensely beside her, Homura briefly wondered what they were all planning to do once school let out. She had never been particularly popular, previously due to her shy disposition and currently because of her cold, aloof one. However, she knew better than to isolate her classmates. Complete alienation was an excellent breeding ground for resentment. She had been made aware of this in the very first timeline, where her inability to speak to others, be proactive and general aura of helplessness had earned her a fair share of enemies. Only Madoka's interference had stemmed the bullying.

No, she never forcibly isolated herself from her classmates, but she never involved herself with them either. She replied in kind whenever a "good morning" or "see you tomorrow" was sent her way, but she also made sure to politely refuse any invitations to hangouts or gatherings until most others knew simply not to ask her. She was genuinely aloof but not resented, respected but not sought after. To Homura, this was the perfect balance. Her teachers didn't expect her to excel, but they knew she wouldn't fail either. Some of the boys in various grades had even begun to refer to her as the [Final Boss], the "lone unconquerable girl" of the school, a prospect Homura had found amusing enough to not put a stop to.

Her spiel of thoughts were broken when the bell rang, signaling the beginning of lunch period. Gathering her things, Homura waited until her desk folded back into the floor before leaving the room. Normally, she would have taken her time, but today the girl had a mission.

Mami usually eats in the garden area, Homura remembered as she brushed past the multitude of teenagers bustling through the halls, making her way towards her shoe locker. I'll have to catch her before her friends come and mob her.

It was true. Despite her similar status as a Puella Magi, Mami Tomoe seemingly had zero difficulties with her social standing. Peers and underclassmen alike seemed inclined to flock towards the accommodating blonde, most likely due to her naturally benevolent disposition. Homura was not entirely sure if her senpai actually went out and spent time with the multitude of friends she had, but she seriously doubted it. Not with the obligations they both bore.

Personally, Homura disapproved of the blonde's decision to actively seek out and maintain friendships. Such ties could only become liabilities and obstacles to their true mission later. But that had never been any of her business, so she had never offered a rebuke, even before. Then the girl remembered she was about to make it her business, and sighed. She may have clashed significantly with Kyouko and their polar opposites in ideals, but Mami Tomoe would always irk her for different reasons.

Homura was so absorbed in thinking about her plans that she didn't notice the little white note falling out of her locker until she had shut it and was about to walk away. Catching the movement out of the corner of her eye, however, the black haired girl stooped over and retrieved the paper. She frowned thoughtfully at it, unable to recall any recent events which may have initiated such a happening. Who could it possibly be from?

Deciding it was best to be cautious, she waited until the locker halls emptied completely of students before unfolding the note. Her eyes took in neat, somewhat stylish handwriting, but it couldn't be said for sure whether another girl had laid them down. The paper itself was blank aside from its contents.

Meet me on the school roof when you read this. I would like to talk to you about something.

Homura reread the note three, four, five times. Still uncovered no clues as to who the messenger may be. Pursing her lips, she tore up the note and tossed the remains into the trash. Whatever the occasion was, she couldn't allow it to distract her from her current objective.

The girl was about to slip into her shoes and leave in pursuit of Mami when a thought occurred to her.

What if it was from Mami?

Due to their split, as well as the natural barrier between senpai and kouhai, it had become nearly impossible for the two of them to interact with each other during school hours. Plus, Tomoe seemed the type to go around leaving obscure messages in people's shoe lockers.

Stopping in her tracks, Homura turned and looked back at the disposal bin she had thrown the note into. Was it worth taking a chance? The blonde may have something truly dire to tell her, and if this was true she didn't want to waste time searching for her in the gardens. After a moment's contemplation, Homura set her jaw and changed her course, now heading deeper into the school, towards the staircases.

The steel steps clacked loudly beneath her heeled shoes as the girl climbed. There was an elevator to the roof, but it was reserved for staff and those with severe handicaps. She could have used her magic to freeze time before making it to the roof, thus saving precious minutes, but decided to save her energy for that night's hunting.

Let's just hope I didn't make a mistake.

Her eyes detecting sunlight streaming through a window above her, and soon she reached the door to the roof. Walking up to the bar, Homura hesitated for a moment before steeling herself and pushing it open. She couldn't totally refute the truth of what Kyubey had said; rekindling her relationship with another magical girl would only place a greater burden upon her shoulders later. But it was a weight Homura was willing to bear if it was part of the cause she fought for.

The hinges creaked softly as they yielded before her, the opening letting in a light breeze that stirred the lips of her long locks. Slipping through and letting the door fall shut behind her, Homura cast about for the true sender of the message, expecting to at least see a person of interest.

What she got instead went totally against her expectations.

A boy. A boy. Standing leaning against the fencing with an incredibly nervous expression painted across his countenance, arms hiding something behind his back. They made eye contact over the distance which separated them, and Homura was astonished to see a flush dominate the boy's face. Licking his lips in an apparent effort to gather himself, her peer made to close the space between them.

Homura waited until the boy reached her, mind silently racing behind a stony expression. What in the world was this? Even if the note's writer didn't happen to be Mami, she had at least expected it to be Kyouko, or perhaps even Kyubey...

Leave. She had to leave. Whatever the boy's intentions were, she didn't have time to tangle herself within them. Her heels her were just beginning to twist into the concrete when a voice called out to her.

"A-Akemi-san. I...didn't think you'd actually come."

Damn, Homura thought. Even now, there probably wouldn't be any severe consequences if she simply ignored those words and left through the door, but she also couldn't be sure that this boy wouldn't make a big issue out of it to his friends. Rumors were the last thing she needed swirling around her.

Turning back to the boy, who she recognized as Takanashi-san from her homeroom class, she forced what she hoped looked like a warm smile, although it probably came out more as a grimace. "Ah...well, of course I did. You sent me a note, after all."

Inwardly, Homura was kicking herself viciously. It had indeed been foolish to alternate her plans simply to answer a summoning from someone who couldn't even sign the letters he sent. Her rationale told her that she shouldn't be so eager to escape the atmosphere, seeing as it was now far to late to catch Mami before others did. Still, it was her paltry social skills which frightened her. She could handle spontaneous conversations in the classroom, but here, alone with Takanashi on the roof...the girl was truly at a total loss.

Takanashi laughed awkwardly at the comment, though Homura hadn't found it amusing in the slightest. "Well...yes, I do suppose that makes sense." An unbearable silence settled in around them.

Realizing finally that it was up to her to kickstart the conversation, Homura flicked her eyes down at the boy's elbows and asked, "So...you called me here for a reason?"

He started at the question, apparently just remembering the thing he was hiding behind his back. Regaining a bit of his flush, Takanashi replied, "Oh...yes, of course. I just wanted to tell you something, Homura..."

Her ears twitched at the sudden use of her given name, feeling the odd sensation in her stomach intensify. She was fervently hoping that this wasn't going to end the way she thought it would, but evidence didn't particularly favor this prayer.

Blinking hard, Takanashi took a few steps back before abruptly bowing down at the waist. Pulling his hands out, the boy revealed the box of chocolates he had been hiding and cried out, "I've always admired you, Homura-san! Please accept my feelings!"

Despite having braced herself for the impact, she couldn't help herself from feeling at the very least exasperated by the confession. Even if Homura already knew she would have to reject him, the situation itself was more than enough to constitute complete embarrassment. She was again tempted to activate her time-freeze, if only to grant herself a few minutes to think over her reaction, but her magic wasn't really worth utilizing at the moment.

Realizing that Takanashi was still feverishly awaiting her response, Homura closed her eyes and let her familiar stone cold countenance descend upon her. Then, parting her lips, she said, "I appreciate how you feel about me, Takanashi-san..."

The boy looked up, eyes shining with hope.

"...But I'm afraid I can't accept your feelings."

Crushed. Homura knew she should have felt pity but didn't, knowing that her response was best for both of them. Struggling with his words for a moment, Takanashi stood back up before mumbling,

"Is there...a particular reason why?"

She hated lying to people. "I'm...just not in the position to have that sort of relationship with anyone right now," She said levelly, distributing enough emotion into her words to avoid coming off as uncaring, but still maintaining an unbiased tone. "I'm busy with family affairs, and...it just wouldn't work out as things are at the moment. I'm sorry."

The boy standing before her didn't say anything back. Homura wondered for a moment if she had failed in her diplomacy, and if the cursory looks and hushed whispers would be waiting for her at homeroom the next morning. In spite of her efforts to end this interaction peacefully, Homura truly cared very little for Takanashi's infatuation. And she called it infatuation because it would be ridiculous for the boy to feel genuine love towards her. It was unlikely that he himself was aware of this, though, and she preferred to avoid social land mines.

Finally, the dreaded moment of silence passed when Takanashi raised his head and surprised Homura by offering a bright smile. "Well, it can't be helped, then," He said with a nonchalant shrug. "I suppose there must be someone else, eh?"

He said it jokingly, but Homura could only blink and turn to look up at the clouds, as if there was someone there to stare back down. "I...suppose you could say that," She murmured.

The boy tried to follow her gaze but failed. "He must be an amazing guy," He said back softly.

Homura thought she saw wings in the cloud patterns above. "Yes...on a completely different level than either of us."

A bit thrown off by this final comment, Takanashi produced another smile and bowed his head slightly before saying, "Thank you for your time," before disappearing down the steps.

She watched his retreating form until it was gone. A refusal on her part may have been inevitable, but the boy had taken it well, considering how cold she must have sounded. She respected him for that.

Walking to the edge of the concrete, Homura gripped the wire mesh of the fence and observed the sprawling campus below her. Her school hadn't completely escaped the industrial developments of the past decade, but the director had insisted on keeping an organic environment for his students. As such, there were no towering mechanical buildings or drones patrolling the halls within the boundaries of the campus. Instead there were vast gardens and classrooms with wide windows to let the sunlight in.

Homura spotted Mami sitting on a bench surrounded by a small grove of roses, chatting amiably with her friends. The black haired girl felt another twinge of annoyance at the sight. How could her upperclassman spend idle time concerning herself with ordinary people? Homura didn't despise normal individuals herself, but she would much rather plan that night's hunt in her head than discuss the latest fashion trend with another girl who was painfully oblivious to the true cruelty of the world.

She had always known it, but now the evidence sat squarely before her; Mami was dangerously self indulgent. Someone who desperately clung to the last shreds of her humanity rather than simply noting its departure. It wasn't that Homura entirely blamed Tomoe for wanting to blend in. But that didn't mean either of them should pursue it. If not to herself, the truth behind the blonde's smiling face would only bring detriment to innocents.

A person who never stops to question her own beliefs. Admittedly, she was nitpicking at Mami's specific faults. She knew that the blonde's strong sense of justice wasn't necessarily a bad thing; not anymore at least. She just saw too keenly that the older girl's morals were tied too closely to her naiveté. Mami put up a strong front, but countless hours of observation had gleaned the information that she was easily affected by her surroundings. Homura remembered all too well the time when Mami had lost her resolve and killed Kyouko, Madoka's own arrow the only thing keeping herself from perishing as well. And as the bolt had shattered the blonde's Soul Gem, Homura had seen the broken look in her eyes.

Fragile as spun glass.

As the lunch bell rang then to signal the end of the break period, she realized the difference between herself and her senpai.

She had flatly rejected the confession.

Mami would have considered it.

It was this which made Homura fear for her.

The gravel crunched uneasily beneath her shoes, as if the very earth were begging her to turn back.

Looking up, she squinted and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the piercing sun above. The buildings on her left and right were tall and narrow, allowing only the strongest rays of illumination to force their way through. She was currently walking through the southern most region of Mitakihara, an area which had become subject to an unfortunate series of failed construction projects. Abandoned, half erected skyscrapers and twisting back alleys riddled the district, winding their way around thinly packed apartments. It reminded Homura of her own neighborhood, just less...quaint.

Unsettling.

A perfect breeding ground for demons.

Otherwise known as Sakura Kyouko's territory.

She obviously wouldn't have chosen this method in the beginning, preferring to make amends with Mami and then have the blonde convince a certain redhead for her. She had failed to reach the upperclassman during school, however, and waiting wasn't an option with the beginning of winter just around the corner. Meaning she would have to pursue the more...unsavory route.

Homura knew very well that she was being watched from the rooftops above, but either didn't care or chose not to react as the girl continued making her way into the depths of the construction sites. She wanted to get as far away from the apartments as possible before initiating any sort of confrontation; involving citizens would be a major inconvenience.

All the while, she felt the weight of the eyes boring into her back as the black haired girl still refused to turn around and cast about for her pursuer. Kyouko knew just as well that if they were going to face each other, privacy was paramount.

Homura finally found a location to her satisfaction when she turned a corner and found one of the abandoned projects. The workers, by now long gone, had managed to set up the metal beams which would have acted as the supports for what seemed to be an office building. Whether her guess was on the mark or not, the structure was several stories tall, the sturdy plexisteel beams standing resolute.

She kept walking until she had completely entered the construction site before at last stopping and turning to face her stalker.

The other party also knew that it was time to emerge from the shadows. A dark red blur appeared at the top of one of the nearby rooftops, before instantly vanishing only to reappear right in front of Homura in the form of Sakura Kyouko. Homura duly noted the highly irritated look on the older girl's face and blandly hoped this wouldn't end badly.

"You've got some guts, showing your face here," The redhead snarled as she twirled her spear menacingly in one hand. The pastor's daughter was already dressed in her magical girl garb, her calf length overcoat fluttering ominously from the wind generated by the rotating weapon. Homura briefly considered transforming into her own Puella Magi form but decided against this, thinking it would suggest hostility.

Doing her best to relax her stance, the black haired girl replied tonelessly, "Thank you. I came to talk, if you would indulge me."

Kyouko hissed at her instead, readjusting her grip on her weapon. "Look, I don't give two shits about what you might have come here to talk about. This is my turf. Get out of it. Now."

Homura closed her eyes and gritted her teeth upon seeing that time had not healed the wounds of their last encounter. Still, she refused to turn back now. She had already failed on Mami's end. Opening her eyes, the girl replied, "I didn't realize territory was so important anymore. After all, there are only three notable Puella Magi in this city. Not to mention that you and Mami are working together...or has that changed?"

Kyouko started at the last bit of her sentence and blinked rapidly before sharpening her gaze again. Baring her unnaturally sharp teeth, the older girl growled, "That isn't any of your business anymore, unless you for whatever reason believe that has changed. The three of us will never work together again. Isn't that what you said?"

The redhead wasn't lying, and Homura hated her for it. Meeting those crimson irises with her own fathomless ones, she said, "I didn't realize you placed so much faith in my words."

Kyouko had had enough at this point. With a flick of her wrist, the girl unchained her spear and whipped it upwards until the razor sharp tip was hovering, resting against the soft exposed flesh of Homura's throat. Taking a few steps forward, but making sure to keep a minimum distance between them to avoid any possible explosives, she spat out,

"If you think I'll forgive you for what you did to me, you're grossly mistaken. This isn't something you can solve with a simple halfhearted apology. And seeing as you apparently aren't here to fight, I'm assuming your objective is to at least ask something of me. Well, whatever that thing is, you aren't getting it. So go home before I take your head!"

At this, Homura's last fleeting hopes of settling the matter diplomatically spluttered and died out. The old feelings of frustration began to rise within her again. She may be trying to undo it now, but there had been a reason why she had left the redhead's company to begin with. Sakura Kyouko was self blinded, arrogant, and selfish for all the wrong reasons. Suddenly, her fingers itched to reach for her Soul Gem and prepare herself for a proper conflict, the idea of forcing the older girl to listen her to suddenly becoming rather appealing.

Then she caught the sorrow hiding behind the rage in Kyouko's eyes, and realized she was totally unjustified in her thoughts. The redhead was right: this wasn't something she could resolve with an offhanded attitude. Homura might not have been aware of it after waking up to find herself in a new world, but in this universe, Kyouko had trusted her. Despite the countless clashes they had had with each other, regardless of whether the redhead remembered them or not, she had trusted her.

And Homura had blatantly betrayed that faith.

Still, she couldn't turn back. To do so would be a betrayal to Madoka as well. It might have been ironic on her part, but Homura didn't trust Kyouko to keep herself safe.

"I wouldn't try to come off as so intimidating, if I were in your position," She murmured back. "You obviously remember how our last encounter ended."

Eyes going wide at the veiled offense, Kyouko shouted, "Shut up!", drawing back her spear and swinging it full force with every intention of taking her opponent's neck off. Homura, having successfully broken free, leapt backwards and landed soundlessly on her toes while the redhead unchained her spear again and lashed it at her side, giving it the appearance of a whip with a massive barb at its tip.

"Are you here to talk to me or fuck with me?" Kyouko snarled.

"I'm open to suggestions," Homura replied blandly, reaching behind her to palm a violet Soul Gem, a clear warning that violence was imminent. It had been decided that she had no choice; if Kyouko wouldn't listen when she asked politely, she would force her to.

The redhead narrowed her eyes and settled into a more stable fighting stance, but Homura saw the nervousness playing across her fingers. They may be in the older Puella Magi's turf, thus giving her some sort of advantage, but they were both aware that in a straight even fight Homura was likely to emerge victorious. Still, it was obvious neither one of the girls were willing to back down now. Homura for Madoka. Kyouko for her pride.

It was time to test which one was stronger.

Setting her jaw and willing the power within her Soul Gem to escape, the black haired girl let a dazzling light engulf her form, the display dissipating to reveal her dressed in magical girl garb. An aura of crackling energy infused the air as her pitch black bow materialized and fell to rest comfortably in a practiced hand, while the other reached up to draw and nock a humming arrow into the string.

Setting her shield, Homura waited.

Digging her heels into the crumbly dirt to gain better leverage, Kyouko launched herself high into the air, putting all of her leg strength into leaping far enough to close the gap between them. Descending upon her target like an enraged hawk, she chained her spear and swung for Homura's head. The younger girl ripped her shield upwards and parried to blow solidly, a loud clang resounding through the air as the two weapons collided with considerable force.

Kyouko didn't give her opponent any time to recover. Absorbing the shock, she landed squarely in front of the shorter Puella Magi and began raining down a hail of jabs and swipes. Homura was forced to keep her shield up to withstand the onslaught, the shield's relatively small diameter just barely wide enough to keep a stray attack from breaking through her defense. It was then that she realized Kyouko's strategy: to keep her from utilizing any bombs or time-stops, she was not allowing any lapses in the battle. By pinning her opponent down like this, Kyouko could ensure no surprises.

She's using her brain, for once, Homura thought in annoyance as she was forced to take a step back, or risk losing precious leverage. Thanks to the superhuman abilities granted to her from her wish to turn back time, she could see her adversary's movements as if they were just slightly slower than they should have been, allowing her an extra split moment to react. But she couldn't keep this up forever. Kyouko was slowly driving her backwards, step by step until a look up would have told her they were standing under the construction by now, thick metal beams surrounding them and allowing less room to maneuver.

She was out of patience. Allowing her knee to buckle, Homura darted back in what looked like a flinch, although in actuality she had more than adequate control of her balance. Kyouko, fooled into believing she had the upper hand, reared back and lunged with her spear.

I've got you now.

Using the redhead's momentum against her, Homura planted her heels into the ground and hunkered down, dodging the strike and feeling the rush of air as the spear tip whistled back her ear. Kyouko barely had enough time to choke in surprise before her opponent launched her full weight forward, driving the sharp rim of her shield into the older's Puella Magi's gut. The blow took her from below and upended her entire body, sending all her dead weight tumbling into the dirt as Homura rolled away to gain some breathing room, resummoning her bow.

Drawing a buzzing bolt and nocking it, Homura took aim. Her goal was not to kill her opponent, as that would waste all of her previous efforts, but she certainly didn't mind incapacitation. Marking the hollow of Kyouko's throat where the ruby hued Soul Gem was fixated, she let the arrow fly.

The redhead's reflexes proved to be too quick, however. Swiping up her dropped weapon and lashing out wildly, the girl conjured a wall of simmering red energy, Homura's projectile shattering harmlessly against the defense. Seizing the lapse in action resulting afterwards, the pastor's daughter tightened the chain-like walls around her until they encircled completely. This way, even during a time freeze, she was impossible to reach. Homura was mildly impressed to note this development; it seemed during her absence, Kyouko had honed her abilities. The redhead hadn't been capable of manipulating the wall before.

"Don't underestimate me," The older girl smirked as she used her spear shaft to regain her footing. "Our first meeting was the first and last time I'll ever run from a fight with you."

"I considered you wise for turning back that day," Homura replied calmly as she drew another arrow. "Is it really worth rescinding that?"

Kyouko spun her spear and unchained it, drawing the writhing coils about her body. "I never really needed your approval anyways."

That said, she charged, steel-backed boots cutting into the loose sand beneath their feet. Homura was against surprised to see that the shield encasing her opponent's entire body was moving along with her; this further complicated things. Loosing the arrow at its target despite knowing it was a useless endeavor, the black haired girl heard the bolt shatter before reaching into the void and pulling out a flashbang. Duly noting she had mere heartbeats before she was steamrolled by the charging redhead, Homura leapt back and pulled the the pin on the grenade, letting it drop between them and raising her shield arm to her eyes to shied them from the imminent blast.

A great storm of smoke and debris was thrown up by the sonic impact of the grenade, sending small chunks of loosely packed dirt pattering down on the beams above them. Though she visuals were obscured, Homura assumed Kyouko was laying stunned somewhere within the dust cloud and reached for her wrist, intent on activating a time freeze.

Her plans were abruptly skewed, however, when the veil of smoke was ripped apart by a rather angry redhead running straight for her, presumably unaffected by the flashbang. Homura, unprepared for such a development, barely reacted in time to parry a bone shuddering blow from the spear. The crimson fence still rotated around Kyouko's form, unbroken by its recent weathering. Obviously, it granted its user immunity from visual disturbances. Homura would later base this on the nature of Kyouko's wish, seeing as it had involved illusions, but she was currently fully occupied with trying to block an incoming hailstorm of attacks while simultaneously fighting to maintain balance. Placed under such adverse conditions, even she was bound to make a mistake.

It came inevitably. In a desperate attempt to regain some leverage, the shorter Puella Magi lunged with her shield arm leading, hoping to knock the spear tip back long enough to regain some footing. Her hopes were promptly dashed, however, when instead the shaft unchained and the spearhead snaked under her guard, tearing into the soft flesh of her forearm and severing the magical bonds which kept the shield secured there. As a result of taking such a blow, she was thrown off her feet and sent tumbling until her body collided with a steel support beam.

Gritting her teeth as the back shrieked in protest, Homura knew she would have broken her spine without her preterhuman endurance. Looking down at her forearm, she saw the crimson blood flowing freely from the long gash which had been opened up there. Knowing it was imperative that she bind the wound as soon as possible, Homura ignored the injury and readied her bow yet again, staring down Kyouko who had chosen not to rush in and finish her off.

Though it may have seemed to any onlooker that the two of them were altercating for the sole purpose of killing each other, they both knew this not to be true. Homura wouldn't kill Kyouko because she believed she was trying to save Kyouko, and the pastor's daughter was transparent enough for her to know that she didn't have it within herself to kill another magical girl.

Not in this timeline, anyway.

No, this was a battle for submission. The winner would earn some degree of dominance over the loser; Homura wanted only to force her thickheaded adversary to just listen to what the hell she needed to say. She had little idea what Kyouko would do outside of physically rebuking her, but she had no intention of letting that become a reality.

Kyouko raised her eyebrow at the sight of Homura standing back up without attending to her wound, despite her having given the black haired girl a chance to do so. Hefting her weapon, the girl sighed and said, "I'll just knock you out and dump your body somewhere close to your house. I don't know exactly where you live anymore, after all. That all right with you?"

Homura nocked her third arrow of the battle, lifting her chin disdainfully. "You'll have to make me lose consciousness first." Diplomacy had now ceased to become even a concept between them. She knew it had been naive of her to allow things to get like this, but now that the line had been crossed she had no choice but to follow through. In all honesty, Homura rather wouldn't have wanted to fight Kyouko. But the redhead understood few forms of genuine communication outside of violence.

So if I defeat you in a way you can understand, perhaps then you will listen.

Kyouko's eyes dimmed a bit at the response. "So be it."

As Homura's next bolt was batted aside by the spear, she remembered their last encounter.

New fic! I do apologize for anything which may have felt OOC in this chapter, as it is my first foray into the Madoka fandom. If you enjoyed and would like to see more, I do encourage you to review! Aside from providing me with valuable feedback, it serves to motivate me to continue writing.

Thanks for reading!

~Shrrg