riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, the sol and seele: seel of the nabbis, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a rubus idaeus of recirculation back to Mitakihara and Home, dreamerroraring.

"In this broken world [...] I dreamed of someone I knew and saw her familiar smile again."

WER HATGETRÄUMT?

Bong. Bong. Bong.

From the lonely belltower reaching high towards the heavens, as the clock struck six, three chimes of the old bronze bell resounded throughout the empty green meadows and the closed-off city walls. The dew that gathered on the blades of leaves gradually trickled down into the soil. A gentle breeze wafted by in the busy streets, bringing to its people a scent of the violets and peppermints which grew in the city's parks in some long-forgotten time.

A warm blood-red sunset stretched as far as the eye could see. Certainly, the day was a quiet day. Madoka mused as such in her thought, as she walked in the long empty hallways of Mitakihara Middle School. The glass windows of the complex reflected the blinding light that came from every corner, perpetuating the warmth of the sunset everywhere, such that nary a dark shadow could appear. Indeed, it was a strange day, albeit not for any undesirable reasons.

In the silence, Madoka made her way towards the classroom alone. On some days, it all almost felt like a dream to her, like she was watching her life go on as a by-stander. She had a measure of peaceful constancy in her life, spending time with her Papa, Mama, and Tatsuya. It was a time that, she well knew, was all too limited. Nothing lasts forever. But in the meantime, they were a happy family. All was good and well on her side of the world. Yet despite that, a fine needle of self-doubt would sometimes lodge itself into her heart, and she couldn't help but wonder what she would do in the future. So at times, she would peer into the bottomless azure skies and settle into pensive reveries and cogitations.

She turned and observed the scenery beyond the glass panel wall. Misshapen light clouds rested in the sky, stock-still. Cradled by the wind, the trees would rustle and the grass would bend back ever so slightly. Far out in the distance, flocks of birds sang their meticulously toned cacophony and flew off westwards, chasing the high sun. Sunlight fell upon the water surface of the river, causing it to glitter with the slow streaming of water. Madoka noted that the clouds hardly moved and the sky was met with no change, staying just the same as it was in the morning save for the inevitable gradation of colour as dawn turned to dusk.

No doubt, she found that she had changed somewhat; but where, when, and how exactly – she could not put her finger on it. She found herself more introspective and tranquil than she would have thought probable a few years ago. While she was still rather timid all in all, she projected an air of tranquility and mellowness. Had she undergone a tremendously subtle change of character or maturing of the soul during the long flight back to Japan? As she walked, she thought of such a possibility and giggled at the silliness of it. She's just a strange little girl, and the day was just a strange quiet day. Perhaps, she could attribute her change, if only partially, to a newly-acquainted friend of hers.

"Ah, Akemi-san..."

Before she knew it, she had unwittingly reached her destination. She stood quite a ways behind Homura by the doorway, timidly glancing at the raven-haired girl still seated at her desk. Her soft voice trailed off echoingly into the empty hallways. Receiving no response, she silently sidled beside Homura and tried to call for her again.

"Akemi-san?"

Still, Homura did not reply and neither did she make any indication of her being aware of Madoka's presence. In her instinctive curiosity, Madoka bent forwards to sneak a peek at whatever Homura could be so absorbed in as to not notice her voice. It had been a few months since she had returned from America and transferred into her current school, but it all seemed to pass her by in the twinkling of an eye. Indeed, Madoka had, ever since she came back, thought that time was passing by oh-so-speedily that it felt so surreal. Spending time with her family, reuniting with old friends, and above all – what was it again? She failed to remember.

Then she saw.

In the golden afternoon, Homura lay soundly in her sleep, eyes firmly shut. She rested her upper body on the table with her chin stuck out, its jut supported on a crotch of hands, with a fountain pen slackly projecting from her right-hand fingers. And that was all she was doing: sleeping in a quiet place with the sunshine of the warm fine day soaking into her skin. Her constant, steady deep breathing attested to her deep slumber. Homura slept so serenely that it brought to Madoka's mind recollections of Chinese poetry where such nodding-offs exuded a spirit of refinement and even romance.

Breathing in and breathing out; seeing Homura like this – had Madoka ever? This was definitely a first. A gentle smile adorned Madoka's face as she beheld the sight of Homura's sleeping form. For all the time Madoka knew the strange girl, she would most commonly see her seated in quiet isolation with her hands folded and her brows furrowed, giving off the impression that she was in heavy contemplation over troubling issues, or looking into the distance, as if searching for something. And Madoka often wondered what she was going through her mind during those solemn periods of silence, but Homura would only say poetic things she could hardly comprehend. Whenever Madoka sought for Homura to share her thoughts and feelings, she would give a different strange answer each time. Just the other day, Homura said she was thinking of a 'shining castle in the sky'. So Madoka looked out of the window and told her that it must be really far away. Homura smiled.

But I digress. Madoka's expression of amazement, not unlike that of a poor child who happened upon a tin of cookies in some cold winter day, soon turned into one of fondness and adoration as she recalled their first meeting. On her first day attending classes, she walked up to her, introduced herself and guided her on a tour round the school. Queer for her to think this as it may be, she had a feeling that she knew the campus grounds like the back of her hand. When she first stepped foot in America, in a stranger land, an overwhelming sense of unfamiliarity and wonder overcame her. However, even after three long years away, Mitakihara was exactly as she expected it to be despite its many changes over the years. From whence did this strong intuitive recognition arise from? Maybe it was simply that she had a strong affinity with Mitakihara – a past life maybe, maybe?

' "How does it feel to be back after so long?"
"… mm, everything feels so familiar and nostalgic, I guess. But, it's also kind of different somehow. It's a strange feeling…"
"That comes as no surprise. It's been three years, after all." '

So they spoke, on the first day. Had they done this before? The informal and smooth exchange made it seem like they had repeated such a ritual time and time again.

To Madoka, despite having only been recently acquainted with Akemi Homura, it was like she was talking to an old, precious friend of hers from whom she had been separated for so very long. With every piece of dialogue they exchanged, Madoka felt as though she wanted, and had been kept long in wanting, to speak to her and tell her – something. What was it? She failed to remember. It was as though something within her was aching to escape through the glass ceiling of her heart from the confinement of undiluted, uncommunicated thought and ideals. What was it? But Akemi was there. And that gave her a conflicting sense of peace of mind as well. One triumphed over the other. But Homura was there. And to hear Homura speak so personally and tenderly to her, she felt at ease. She was worried. She did not know why Akemi had brought her out. But inwardly, she felt at ease. Then in silence, they carried on.

From behind, it looked like Akemi didn't have much else to say to Madoka as the two, who had never even as much as once met before, walked with synchronized footsteps. With dignified and straight posture, Akemi walked, loping in front of Madoka with her shoulders relaxed and her steps, unhurried in pace but still displaying an airs of resolution and confidence all the same.

Homura was barely an inch or two taller than her. That difference of height seemed so greatly accentuated, magnified to Madoka. That day, Akemi Homura's strong presence towered over her and muted out all else. She was only one step ahead, but that was enough to make her appear to be a looming shadowy figure in the distance. Her footsteps were neither strikingly light nor heavy. It betrayed a further cold nonchalance behind her already aloof persona, or was it simply telling of a carefree and down-to-earth spirit? There was so much Madoka wondered about of Akemi in their short walkabout, yet she never could come to any conclusions in the end.

Was this girl always walking with her, always aiding her, always one step ahead of her? It was so confusingly nostalgic.

But then Madoka remembered. Once upon a time, there too was a selfless girl with long black hair and a mysterious, brooding mien.

And there was another one, a fighter and a great friend.

And a brash, unruly but nonetheless good-natured person.

And someone with yellow hair.

And her Papa, a model househusband.

And her Mama, strong and worldly-wise, of whom she was full of admiration.

And of course, who could forget naughty little Tatsuya?

Everyone, together in Mitakihara.

Although that was only her first day in the school, her first time meeting Akemi, it was as if she had been in Mitakihara all her life. Then, her mind drifted to Homura. It was as if they had always been this way for ages – hundreds and hundreds of years. In the matter of a moment lost till the end of time…

"No… Come to think of it, it's more like nothing has changed," she softly spoke, partially in reply to Akemi's query and partially for Madoka herself to ruminate.

"In fact, it feels like the only thing that's changed…"

What happened after she left for America? From then on, everything happened so fast she had problems piecing together her memories. Yes, where did she go? Who did she meet? What did she do? She thought she knew, but she didn't. She couldn't remember.

Falling like curtains upon curtains of black, freezing fire, in an almost graceful decent – such were the visions of Homura's defeat that came to Madoka's memory. Doesn't she remember the thin trails of smoke emerging from the countless aftermaths of the terrible night? Buildings tumbled like building blocks, the earth's coating peeled layer by layer as the furious wind picked up objects of all shapes and sizes, ruins strewn all over the landscape, devastation after a hollow victory – Madoka thought she remembered these vivid details. Then, as if all the images of silhouettes idyllically gliding through the air were naught but a mirage, she awoke. She thought she could not remember more of that surreal dream.

She realized at that moment in time, that she knew just as little about Akemi Homura as she did of herself, and vice-versa. Like a mirror held before her, large as the sky is wide; and the image, reflected back to the other side.

"…is myself."

Akemi faltered. Akemi Homura turned an abrupt about-face. It was plain to see. She witnessed the unbridled dread and shock on Homura's face. Then everything went a little fuzzy.

Her vision purpled down into absolute darkness for the briefest of moments.

When she came round, she could feel a close and tight pressure in her chest. Warmth irradiated from behind her, where she could not see. But she could tell: Homura held her close in her arms, so close that she could feel warm breath against her right ear. Madoka remembered that.

Homura was perceivably unsettled. Her eyebrows slanted sharply downwards towards their sides, and her eyes were much narrowed. Her distress and worry was evident. The two of them, all alone in a desolate place – right then, the silence echoed volumes.

"Homura-chan?! Ne, what- "

Madoka, in her initial shock, attempted to struggle free. A few seconds later, she settled down. Homura moved her right hand to Madoka's shoulder.

In a shaky, reassuring tone, she answered Madoka.

"It's alright. You are exactly what you were always meant to be."

With that said, she tightened her grip on Madoka's shoulder. Madoka's eyes widened in surprise and she let out an involuntary gasp. She never expected that. It sounded to her as though those words of comfort were directed more towards the speaker herself than the intended addressee. Still, the words rang true in her heart. Perhaps that was what she really needed: self-acceptance and self-reassurance, Madoka thought. All things need assurance. She was always who she was meant to be.

She was Madoka.

She was her Papa's daughter.

She was Mama's daughter.

And she was cheeky little Tatsuya's favourite big sister.

She loved her family very much. She couldn't be anybody else. This is where she should be: her rightful place in the world. Even then…

Akemi Homura took a step back, still holding onto Madoka's shoulders, and then bowed her downwards till her dark locks fell from their place and veiled her face. Madoka couldn't see her expression. But, without a shadow of a doubt in her mind, Madoka saw her grin a grin so self-derisory like she was laughing at herself. Madoka could still remember.

"Kaname Madoka."

The ghost of her wispy cracked voice resonated in the unchanging silence.

The river flowed, and all the tiny speckles of light on the water blinked. One died out, and another one was born anew.

"Do you treasure this world? Do you consider stability and order more important than desire?"

Madoka gasped again. The burst of desperation in Akemi's voice and the sheer philosophicalness of the sudden questions had caught her off-guard.

"Well, I… Um…"

She was Madoka, she couldn't be anybody else.

"I – I do treasure it."

She knew that. She had her place in the world. She had a loving family and a hopeful future.

Akemi did not speak. Akemi Homura did not move. Homura waited.

"I guess I do think it's kind of bad to break rules because you feel like it."

Akemi's grip weakened and her arms fell lifelessly off Madoka's shoulders back to her sides. Akemi limply shifted her body back upright.

"I see."

All hint of weakness vanished from her eyes.

"Then, I suppose one day you too will be my enemy."

But her head was hung down, and she did not look at Madoka straight in the eye as she said that. In one gallant stroke, she unfurled the red ribbon from her hair, holding it in her hands.

Then, she gazed into Madoka's eyes and stepped closer towards Madoka.

"But I don't care. Because even then," she said as she gently tied Madoka's hair with the red ribbon, "I will continue to wish for a world where you will be happy."

The two yellow ribbons which adorned Madoka's hair, was replaced with similar, slightly worn, red ones.

"Homura-chan? Um…"

"They really do look better on you after all," she told Madoka wistfully. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes.

Madoka could only gape at her in silence.

One question badgered her, from the beginning to the end: Why?

Surely in the eyes of any normal human, such a bizarre first meeting must have been rather impressionable. Of course, Madoka was in no position to comment on the weirdness of Homura that day when following the day's events, she developed a burning desire to know and understand someone as strange as Akemi Homura.

Before she really got to come into direct contact and know her as a person, all she knew of Akemi Homura was from the wandering voices of her classmates she would unintentionally overhear. She heard it through the grapevine that Akemi Homura was devilishly smart: she would without fail end up as the top scorer every term, she made less mistakes in tests than you had fingers to count with, she was always willing to help those who approached her for help related to any matter be it of the realm of academia, family relations, and even spirituality. Some said she could turn water into wine and conjure up tables, chairs and cutlery of all sorts out of thin air. Preposterous as that may sound, there were even those who swore that one night she and her army of minions cleaved the moon in half.

From then on, Madoka made sure to take all gossip of Akemi with a pinch of salt. Nevertheless, there were a couple of acceptable and even believable stories of the great and venerable Akemi Homura.

No matter who she was with, she would only stay for as long as she was required. You could turn your head the other way then back again, only to find that she was gone – spirited away.

She always responded to those who talked to her kindly and she would entertain even the most aimless of claptrap, but hardly would she herself initiate the conversation.

Despite her popularity and prominence, she wasn't actually particularly close to anyone at all. She would keep them all at arm's length by never indulging in their company or disclosing her past and personal information of any kind. She walked alone, and she told the others she preferred it that way.

As Madoka eyed Homura in her sleep, she couldn't help but feel sympathetic for the girl who was always on her own. Yet whenever she brought up the matter, Homura would answer in all sincerity, "It's alright. I'm happy for you." Then she would smile at Madoka. So Madoka would always be captivated by the sudden gesture, and believe in her words whole-heartedly. Looking back at the memory, Madoka realized that Homura was very clever indeed.

In the golden light, the solemn, unutterably serene sleeping Homura looked like a work of art. The autumn leaves, arranged in two or three scarlet terraces among the pine trees grown in the gardens, had fallen like ancient dreams. The red and white camellias near the main entrance, dropping their petals, a red one then a white one, were finally left bare. The wintry sun along the ten-foot length of the southwards-facing classroom sets daily earlier than yesterday. Morning after morning, the flowers keep on falling…

With bated breath, Madoka reached out to nudge Homura awake. As reluctant as she was to wake her up, darkness was descending upon the land. If they stayed any longer, they would be locked in. She gently rocked Homura's right shoulder.

"Homura-chan. Homura-chan."

The once comfortably sleeping girl started to stir from her sleep. A twitching of the eyebrows was followed by a break in her rhythmic breathing. Slowly, Homura levered her sleepy eyes wide open. Her earrings twinkled and shone. Craning her neck upwards, she found herself face to face with Madoka. At such close proximity, Madoka detected the dark circles that had gathered below her eyes. They'd been getting more and more prominent as of late. Not that Madoka often got so physically close to Homura; that goes without saying. She was simply observant.

"Ma… doka?"
"Yes. Ma – do – ka," she pronounced the hiragana of her first name very slowly and clearly, the way she teaches Tatsuya how to speak.

Homura muttered something under her breath and leaned her head back onto the table again, cheek resting on her folded hands flat on the table, facing away from Madoka.

"Was I sleeping?" still half-asleep, Homura asked Madoka.
"Yes you were," she chirpily answered.

A few seconds passed before Homura asked again, "Then… were you watching me?"

Madoka bent her body forward over the table from where she was till her head was upside-down, and locked eyes with Homura.

"I still am." Madoka chuckled as she said that. Her head blocked the sunbeams and casted a shadow over Homura's face.

Inhaling deeply, Homura slowly shut and opened her eyes multiple times, looking away in apparent bashfulness. Madoka straightened herself, still giggling at Homura. Then, Homura raised her arms and propped up her head on the palm of her hands.

"You should get going soon. It's getting dark." Homura nonchalantly told Madoka as she blankly stared straight ahead.
"Ah, Homura-chan," Madoka moved herself into Homura's line of sight, "you don't remember? We're all going to be meeting for dinner at my place today."

Madoka took Homura's hands in hers and gave her a right big smile.

"Come on, come on. I'm waiting for you."

Then she let go.

"Homura-chan?"

But Akemi held on tight onto her wrists. A strong, forceful grip: one that you would not expect from someone as lean as Akemi Homura. There were no signs of strain on Madoka's hands, nor any indication of effort on Akemi's part, but Madoka knew better than to think that she could easily pry herself from Homura's grasp.

"I've…"

Homura lowered her gaze. She furtively grinned.

"…I've got you."

Madoka's heart thumped and her blood ran cold. She flinched. Akemi's voice possessed unnerving gravity.

She couldn't stop herself from staring deep into Akemi's eyes. They were mystifyingly open and dark, darker than the blackest night and the raven's feathers, because therein lurked a palpable – sense of astute perception that made one feel as though it could penetrate whichever body, mind, and soul it pleased. Akemi had steady eyes.

Would Akemi have let her go if she screamed, 'Let go!'? Maybe Homura would have.

But Madoka didn't want to turn her away.

In kind, Madoka with her feeble hold clenched onto Akemi's wrists.

"We've got each other."

Akemi Homura tittered, and whispered, "So it seems."

She let go, got up onto her feet, grabbed her bag, and with a flick of her long shining hair, she strode out of the classroom.

"Aren't you coming?"
"A-ah, wait for me!" she tottered hurriedly in chase of Homura.

After Madoka and Homura had taken their departure, it became as quiet as a night when winter's icy wind suddenly drops and the snow falls soundlessly. Somewhere far away, in the autumn fields, when the heedless wind blows by over the pure-white dew; how the myriad unstrung gems are scattered everywhere around.

A/N: Updated. (300317)