...If I ever feel the need to write something like this again, please...someone, anyone, kill me. Without mercy, without hesitation. I hate, hate, HATE, fics like this. And yet...here we are.

Against my better judgment...I leave you to read.

The Simple Way Out

"Come on, Daddy, we have to go!"

"I know, I know, be patient little one!"

With a small chuckle, Akemi Katsune made his way down the stairs of his home, putting on his jacket as he did so. "Now, where do you want to go, little one?"

"The park!" his daughter exclaimed. "It's spring, so the Sakura trees are finally blooming! It's sooo pretty out there!"

"You know, for someone who doesn't like socializing, you sure love the park quite a bit." Katsune quipped, smiling at his daughters immediate sobering and cute pout.

"You two go on ahead." Katsune's wife, Kotomi, stated, drawing the attention of both of them. "I need to catch up on some housework. There's still so much to do to prepare for my sister's baby shower!"

"Alrighty, dear." Katsune replied. With a smile, he turned to his daughter. "You ready, kiddo?"

"Yeah, yeah! Come on, let's go!" Without a seconds pause, the ten year old dragged her stumbling father out the door, towards the Mitakihara central park.

Her task seemed simple enough. After all, it was no such feat as curing the most vile of diseases, nor was it on par with battling the most fearsome of witches. Protecting one person was all that mattered. A simple job, even considering what she had to be protected from.

Such were the thoughts of Akemi Homura as she let a burst from her submachine gun rip through the cartoon like flesh of the candy-lord, Charolette. Satisfied that she got the beast's attention, she leapt onto one of the many small tables that were scattered into the infinite beyond of the witches barrier, immediately stopping time. Without pausing, she drew from her shield a small pipe bomb. Placing it one the table, she leapt to another, nearby chair, resuming time as she did so.

The massive witch predicted Homura's leap to the first table, but thanks to her powers over time and space, it was impossible for it to predict her second action. With a great cry, Charolette devoured the table whole, expecting to take the smaller Magical Girl along with it. The effort was to no avail, and several subsequent attempts were just as unsuccessful as the first; Homura placing a bomb at each new landing point.

Satisfied with the amount of explosives the creature ingested, Homura leapt on top of the marionette that housed the massive witch. Charlotte turned, giving a cry of outrage...

Homura pressed the detonator.

Without bothering to turn at the spectacle of explosions and bright flashes, she leapt off the high-stilted chair, heading towards the two shaking girls covering behind an oversized piece of candy corn. She already knew Charolette was dead; this was the fourth tie she had killed the beast. Twelve pipe bombs were sufficient to weaken its inner carapace enough for a thirteenth to pierce its heart and slaughter the beast wholesale.

"That was a close one." She stated to both Madoka and Sayaka, who still stared on, almost unbelieving at the events that had transpired. Homura caught their gazes, and turned to see the now-shattered teacup that once belonged tot heir friend and mentor, Mami Tomoe.

Although Homura hated to admit it, Mami's death may have been her saving grace. With her demise, the chances of Madoka contracting were now vastly diminished. Perhaps this timeline would finally be the last...

The time-traveler shook off those thoughts. There was no telling what would happen until the end was there.

"Take a good look..." Homura said, returning her focus to the task at hand. Though she seemed to look at both of the girls, her focus was set solely on the pink-haired girl in front of her. "Take a good hard look. This..." She gestured towards the cup, Mami's headless corpse... "Is what it means to be a Magical Girl."

Her eyes locked solely on Madoka, who flinched at her penetrating gaze. Homura truly had no ill intentions towards the girl—after all, this was the girl that she was trying to save. She sighed as the barrier began to close around them, returning the tree to the hospital gardens.

Without another word, Homura began to make her exit, but not before stopping to acquire the grief Seed dropped from Charolette. Sayaka's protests were completely unheeded by the time-traveler; the girl was completely irrelevant in her quest.

"Protect Madoka...that is all."

With that thought in her mind, Akemi Homura made her exit. She was successful now, but there was always the future to prepare for.

"Is that a sketchbook, dear?" Katsune asked, bemused to find his daughter flopped out on the grass, a piece of paper and a number 2 pencil laying near her.

"Yeah..." Homura shyly replied. She didn't' like sharing secrets with her parents, but there was no backing out of this one. "I like to draw what I see in nature. There's nothing wrong with that!" She added almost defensively.

"Never said there was, kiddo." Her father countered, forcing a small smile out of Homura. With a dismissive wave, Katsune began walking back towards the park bench. "I'll be over there if you need anything. Have fun!"

"Okay, daddy!" Homura replied. Turning back into the spring breeze, she began to intently observe her surroundings, her pencil already deliberately working out the sketch of the large Sakura tree in front of her.

Katsune flopped down on the nearby park bench, taking in a single breath of the clean park air. Although the park was located at the center of the city, it was large enough to enter and not see a single building, save the city skyscrapers that towered above them. It was a natural paradise surrounded by the creations of man; a near perfect combination.

"Daddy!"

Katsune was torn from his thoughts by a shout from his daughter. This was no excited call though. This sounded...urgent. Rushing over to the spot where he last saw his daughter, he looked around, only to find her under the base of the tree she was drawing not five minutes beforehand, leaning over a small figure in the grass.

Stepping over to his daughter, Katsune leaned down and inspected the creature. It appeared to be a small sparrow, a youngling. The nestling had all it's feathers, and seemed to be of capable flying age; Katsune hazard a guess that the parent-birds booted him out of the nest like all the other hatchlings, to learn to fly and be one with the sky above them. This, unfortunately, could not be the case for the young bird on the ground, for one of its wings was bent at an odd angle- broken.

"Daddy..." Homura whispered. "I think he's hurt..."

"He is, sweetheart." Katsune sighed. "There's not much we can do for him..."

"What?" Homura suddenly turned on him, her eyes watering behind her red-rimmed glasses. "There has to be something we can do!"

Katsune considered this a moment. He knew nothing of avian first-aid, so being able to do something about it was a longshot. "I'm sorry, Homura, but-"

"Please, daddy?" Homura pleaded. "Didn't you tell me that the easiest solution to a problem is usually the simplest one? The simple answer here is to take care of him, right? Right?"

Damn, she had him there. That was a lesson he had drilled into her brain since she was a toddler. Conceding defeat with a nod of his head and a smile, Homura smiled back, gently picking up the small sparrow, who only gave a small whistle of protest.

"Let's take good care of him, okay?" Homura asked, her eyes still pleading.

Katsune nodded, now full of determination. "Of course."

"No..."

Homura stared, shocked, at the scene before her, The rain outside poured with ferocious intensity, soaking those who were unfortunately enough to get caught in its path.

Despite the pouring rain, however, it could not pierce the glass rooftop of the bus station. It could not wash away the torrents of blood that streaked from the body that lay on the floor.

"Why...why, Sayaka?" For once, Homura was at a loss for words.

The swordswoman only gave a contemptuous snort, prodding at the corpse at her feet with one foot. "Dunno." She shrugged. "She wouldn't shut up about shit she didn't understand. Now she's quiet. That's all that matters."

"You..." Homura tensed, feeling her mind go into overdrive. This couldn't be happening, there was no way. And yet here it was, the evidence, laying in front of her.

"And?" Sayaka laughed, kicking the corpse of Madoka once more. Her head lolled to the side, and Homura finally got a glimpse of Madoka's last moments. What she saw almost made her retch.

Her face was contorted in agonized horror, blood still streaming from her nose and mouth. Her uniform was torn to shreds, several cuts leaving horrendous gashes across her chest and stomach. The faint glint of bones could barely be seen from Homura's point of view.

"Sad, isn't it?" Sayaka's airy voice broke Homura's involuntary daze. "Kyubey said she had so much potential...sad it had to be wasted on such a coward." She began to laugh, a cackle that threatened to pierce the heavens...

The noise was cut short, however, as another laugh began to fill the air. Sayaka paused in her tirade, confused as to the source of the noise. Looking around, she found nobody else but her and Homura in the vicinity...

Her eyes shot forward. 'Homura? What the fu-!'

Any further thoughts were cut short as Sayaka's head was forcibly separated from her body. Homura's shield lodged itself in the glass wall on the far end of the bus station, covered in blood and stained cartilage. The shield tore through the muscle tissue in Sayaka's neck, snapping the bone like so much tissue paper. A great spout of blood fountained into the air as her corpse landed heavily on the ground, her head rolling to the side as it did so.

Homura began to laugh, almost disbelievingly, at what just transpired. Madoka, dead...once again, by the hands of someone that should have been her friend. Without a seconds pause for thought, she picked up Sayaka's body and carelessly tossed it out into the rain, allowing it to roll into the street. Her head followed suit, rolling not too far from the body.

Homura turned to Madoka, whose eyes were still wide with horror. She could feel the tears beginning to form in her eyes, and valiantly attempted to force them back. It was not so easy as the other times before. Homura had lost count of how many times she reset the timeline, of how many times she saw Madoka screaming in agony as Oktavia crushed her spine. The images of Madoka- sweet, innocent Madoka, diving in front of her to take a bullet from Mami, getting slaughtered helplessly by Charolette, Oktavia, Walpurgisnacht...it was all too much to take for Homura.

She could not be deterred. The timelines were getting worse and worse the more Homura seemed to repeat them. At first, she could only attribute it to the chances of fate, but after today...after the events that just transpired, right before her eyes, there was no question about it.

Kyubey was right. The incubator had warned her about the consequences of creating parallel universes. For every universe that had Madoka and herself at its centerfold, the more they began to relate, and perhaps even deteriorate. Homura had lost count of how many times she used the apparatus within her shield...

The first time was the easiest, she realized. Madoka defeated Walpurgis, though at the cost of her life. Despite her demise, she died happy, knowing that she saved the world. And Homura could not accept her death, which led to the wish, and the contract.

From there, it all went downhill. Countless times Homura time traveled, countless times she woke up in the same damn hospital bed, and countless times she watched the girl she wanted to save get murdered, slaughtered, tortured...over and over again.

They weren't so bad at first. Madoka dying at the hands of Walpurgis seemed to be the main running theme for the first few timelines. But as time went on, the deaths, the torture...only seemed to get more brutal. Images of Madoka being crushed in Oktavia's grip, blood dripping from the grotesque hand as her bones were crushed one by one. Madoka taking thousands of bullets from her former trainer and friend, shielding Homura's body with her own, the tiny smile on her face that told her everything was going to be okay as bullets tore into her. And now Madoka, sweet Madoka, slaughtered over the concern of her friend.

None of these happened without consequences, though. Homura's laughing seemed to echo once more as the thought of tearing Sayaka apart, limb from limb, flashed into her mind once more. Slowly, with every timeline, Homura knew she was going insane.

But she could not falter. She could not be deterred.

Ignoring the headlights from an oncoming semi, Homura activated the time-traveling component of her shield once more.

In a matter of seconds, she was back in her hospital bed. Without even missing a beat, Homura leapt out of the bed and immediately jumped straight through the window, moving almost robotically. She had long since abandoned following the custom of getting officially released. It took too much time, and she was damn sick of it.

The sun began to set in the western horizon when Homura found herself overlooking the Kaname residence. From her vantage point, she had a clear view of Madoka, sitting at her bedside, humming an unheard tune as she prepared herself some sandwiches. Her schoolbag lay at her side, and several large stuffed animals were sitting atop her bed. Just as always. Just like the routine she had followed for ages.

Homura's mind blanked out. What could she do this time around? She had already tried killing off all plausible threats beforehand, but the Madoka of that timeline hadn't taken to kindly to Mami's bloodied corpse in a nearby. She was desperate that time around, wild eyes staring at the girl she was supposed to save.

Still, there were so many options to take...and yet so few remained that Homura found herself beginning to lose hope. No matter what, Madoka always died. In every timeline, it was a horrible gruesome death. Sometimes it was at Sayaka's hands, other times it was Mami, and even some more at the hands of witches and Walpurgis herself. Madoka, always the self-sacrificer, had never been a byproduct of collateral damage, but always found a way to sacrifice herself to save a friend.

Homura felt the tears rise once more, watching Madoka go about her routine, completely unbeknownst to her impending doom.

"Doesn't he look happy?" Homura asked, seemingly for the fifth time.

"Yes dear, he does." Kotomi replied, holding out a small water bottle for the sparrow. Though the bottle itself was normally meant for hamsters, its design made it applicable for avians as well. The sparrow chirped happily, sipping from the bottles contents.

Homura sighed, watching the birds antics. Without warning, an idea popped in her head. "I know! Let's have him stay with us! We can have a pet, can't we Mom?"

Kotomi hesitated. This was a wild bird, and thus belonged in the wild, not sitting inside a cage at home, no matter how much attention he was paid. Once Homura heard this however, she shook her head, not understanding.

Kotomi was about to prepare another retort when Katsune stepped in. "Homura...remember our saying?"

"The best solution is almost always the easiest?" Homura replied with ease. Several seconds passed before her eyes went wide with realization. "Oh..."

"That's right. He's a wild bird, and doesn't belong with us. We took him in to heal him, and that's just what we did. See?" he gestured toward the cage, where the sparrow was flitting about happily. "He has a world to see, a life to live. We've given him that life. Now let us complete the final step in saving him, okay?"

"Okay..." Homura replied, sounding reluctant, but accepting at the same time.

Ten minutes later, Homura, Katsune, and Kotomi watched as the sparrow, it's newfound mended wing in perfect working order, fly off into the sunset, chirping happily as it did so, as if to say "Thank you."

A single tear slid down the cheek of Akemi Homura.

The tear that she felt, all those years ago, slid down her cheek, landing on the grass at her feet.

The best solution is often the simplest. And Homura knew exactly what she had to do.

Transforming, she reached into her shield and drew out a long-barreled rifle. Ejecting the magazine, she cycled a single round into the bolt, locking the bullet in place. Next, she reached into the shield once more, acquiring a magnified scope, and attached it to the rifle. Her hands shook, and when she looked down her sights, the image of Madoka sitting at her bedside was shaking so violently Homura could have sworn an earthquake was going on.

"The best solution is almost always the simplest." Katsune had said. "It's time to set her free."

Homura drew in a shaky breath, and exhaled slowly. With deliberate care and effort, she forced her hands to stop shaking. Her eyes slowly focused past the tears that now flowed freely down her face. Madoka's image became more stable in her sights; she had not moved once, save the amount of completed sandwiches increasing.

Despite the tears cascading down her face, Homura propped up her rifle, and pressed it to her shoulder. For too long, she watched Madoka bear the pain of the world. For too long, she faced the many innumerable pains of death, each one more gruesome and horrifying than the last.

She did not belong in this world, Homura realized.

Then, a thought. "It is we that do not belong in this world..."

A final tear dripped down her face.

"I'm sorry, Madoka. I'm so sorry."

A shot tore through the suburbs of Mitakihara.

"Daddy..." The timid voice of Homura carried through the house.

"Yes dear?" Katsune replied, setting his coffee down. Glancing outside, he noticed the sun about halfway above the mountains. If he wasn't out the door soon, he was going to be late.

"Did..." Homura began to ask, but stopped, glancing away from her father. A cocked eyebrow prompted her to go farther. "Did we...did we do the right thing?"

"Right thing? About what?" Her father asked, confused.

"The bird..." Homura clarified, and realization dawned on her father's features. "I've been reading...birds learn everything they have to in the wild, don't they? We just released him into that wild, and he has no idea what to do...what if he's alone, or scared?"

"Honey..." Katsune set a hand on his daughter's shoulder, forcing her to look into his eyes. "We may not know if that was the best choice we could have made. We don't know if he's going to make it out there."

Seeing his daughters eyes begin to tear up, he hastily continued. "But it was the morally correct choice. He wouldn't be truly free sitting here in a cage. He must be out there, where he belongs. Okay?"

Homura looked unconvinced, but nodded.

The screaming bullet stayed true to it's mark, crashing through the window at an alarming speed, sending glass shard scattering in every direction. Despite the loud noise, the speed of the high-calibur bullet proved too fast for anyone to react.

For a moment she sat, still on the bed, the tray of sandwiches she had diligently prepared not five minutes before, still untouched by her delicate hands. After what seemed like hours, droplets of blood began to fall. Those droplets became a stream, and not soon after became a pool of red that covered all it touched, soaking through the bread and filling the decorative plate, soon dripping over onto the white carpet. Without a sound, nor so much as a protest, the girl slumped over, spilling more of her lifeblood onto the bed and carpet below. Her gaze was unmoving, but held a peaceful, almost happy expression, the final thought of the food on the now-ruined plate frozen in her mind, never to move or be recognized again. Like a final chord struck in a symphony, her eyes rolled back and her head lolled to the side, still spilling blood onto the pristine furniture.

And there, amongst the calming winds of a warm spring evening, surrounded by the very aura of her innocence, Madoka Kaname succumbed to death, without ever having a chance to look surprised.

A small siren began to wail inside the house, the building's instinctive defense to a home intrusion reacting to the pierced glass window. But there would be no clues for the police to follow as they searched the gruesome scene. There would be no answers, no peace for the family of the slain girl. All that were left were questions, questions, questions. Theories would come and go, suspects would be named, but in the end, nothing would come to pass.

Not much remained of the Kaname family afterwards. Several weeks passed, and life seemed to return to normal for those involved in the conflict. Tomohisa had taken to working at a local fast-food restaurant, the meager income sustaining the family that now missed one of their own. Junko herself had fallen to the deepest pits of depression, quitting her corporate job through sheer absence, the hopes and dreams of money and success, all but forgotten and replaced by her daughters shredded skull.

Nobody could blame her, of course. There are some images that one should never have to see, and Junko had seen perhaps the worst of them all, tearing away at the fabric of who she was, forcing what remained of her sanity to crumble upon itself. As each morning passed, Tomohisa would check for any sign of improvement from his wife, that somehow her eyes would move past that stage of unseeing horror and return to the reality, however, horrible, that they lived in. And as each morning passed, he found himself leaving for work, Tatsuya in his arms. The only signs of his failure were the frown on his face as he exited the house, and the unmoving, unchanged form of his wife, sitting in the darkened bedroom.

There was one evening, where the clouds had finally parted and the evening sun shone on the rain-tortured city, when Junko left the confines of the master bedroom. She wasn't sure what egged her to leave the little corner of her world, to bring herself towards the single door in the house left untouched since the investigation ended. Sure, the place was sanitized and perfectly usable, but that didn't mean the family wanted to use it.

The room was as untouched as it could have been, with all of Madoka's belongings left exactly the way they found them. Her large plus toys were left untouched, small amounts of dust beginning to collect on them in their time spent unused. The only noticeable differences were the change in bedspread flora and the too-white spots on the carpet, that hid a secret that Junko did not want to relive.

She had no choice. Reliving it was part of her daily routine now. For days, she tried to fight it, to find some positive to focus on, so as to move on past the murder of her daughter. But the memory was a parasite, refusing to be detached by any means whatsoever, constantly sapping away at her heart, mind, and soul. Seeing the room nearly untouched,a s if nothing horrible happened at all, only served to intensify these memories. Why was she here?

Despite the gruesome memories that plagued Junko's mind, and despite standing in the room that was her daughter's last moments, she felt nothing but an odd calmness about the entire matter. Perhaps it was denial, perhaps it was shock, she didn't know. When she learned of her daughter's death, there had been no reaction out of her whatsoever. Tomohisa had found her, having come home early from grocery shopping and, having noticed Madokas' schoolbag on the table, shouted out to greet her. Upon receiving no response, he went upstairs to check on her, and the rest...well, the rest was history.

She felt all of the shock, horror, and sadness at losing one of her own innocent flesh and blood. Inside, she was a mess of confused emotions and chaotic turmoil. But outside, she could show nothing but the blank stare that her family saw with every passing day. And now, here, staring at the last remains of her daughters existence, Junko Kaname tried everything in her remaining willpower to express those emotions. She tried to cry, to scream, to sob to her hearts content.

Nothing came.

She hung herself that night, whilst her husband was out late picking up Tatsuya from daycare. They found her in her final death throes, strung up in the bathroom like a marionette, the last twitch of her leg reverberating for what seemed like ages, before she became completely still, her corpse swaying in an invisible wind being her only sign of movement.

This time, there was no police call, no coroner to collect the body of the suicidal mother. The only sign of oddity was a crying toddler and a note left at the foot of the police station door. Those who investigated the note found not only the body of Junko Kaname, but her husband as well, a single slash to his neck from a large kitchen knife. Self inflicted.

Camouflaged in the large oak tree, right outside the large cathedral, a small white figure swished its tail about, the eerily accurate rhythm to its swings going unnoticed by the creature. Within, funeral processions were coming to a close for a family of three. The procession was small; some co-workers, several students that had relations to the deceased. It was an uneventful end for a family that suffered so many tragic events within the span of a few days. And as the processions came to a close, mourners and relatives alike filed out in solemn silence, the gentle breeze offering no comfort or solace.

"Such a shame" Kyubey said to itself. "She would have been a boon to our efforts."

Without a passing glance at the three ornate, ivory coffins that now lay alone in the room, Kyubey hopped off the tree and began to walk away.

"I suppose we'll have to compensate somehow."

Elsewhere, in yet another graveyard, processions were also being held for another girl. Unlike Madoka, this girl was unknown to the rest of the city. There were none that knew her, none in the school that had even heard of her. Rumor had it she was a transfer student, meant to come to Mitakihara Middle School under a prestigious scholarship program. Whatever happened to the girl, there was no accomplishing that dream now.

They found her body atop the city clocktower, a single gunshot wound to the side of her head spilling its contents onto the ornate hands of the clock. DNA tests confirmed her identity, and though attempts to notify her family of the girls' death, no calls were returned. With no other leads, the girl was merely written off as a runaway with a heavy heart.

It was a simple graveyard, almost peaceful, for such a place of sorrow. A small stream rippled from its artificial origins, circling the perimeter of the site. Within the compound lay the occasional Sakura tree, scattering its pink petals to gently flow in the warm spring wind. The grass itself seemed undisturbed, despite the common presence of machinery digging it up, for the invaders to place their most precious treasures forever.

It was here that the girl would be buried. With nobody to contact—perhaps nobody to care—there was nothing more to do.

Death may have made it's mark, but the finality refused to rush in. Slowly, like the drops from a recently closed faucet, the simple wooden coffin was lowered into the ground by the strangers she knew all too well, and Homura Akemi was finally allowed her eternal rest.

Story End.

I...I need to go lie down.