It was 2 AM, and Madoka was not thinking straight. Not even remotely.
She was currently venting her feelings to the... the... white blob? The thing in front of her? What was it? A hallucination? A fever dream? Maybe. Did she care? Absolutely not. Whether it was real or not didn't matter - she just needed to vent (trauma dump? no gay dump? Lesbian dump? homo dump?)
"I wish I could've understood my feelings sooner," Madoka mumbled, barely registering the words as they left her mouth.
It was a simple wish, really. A casual complaint spoken into the void, one of those thoughts you'd mutter to yourself at home without real expectation of anything happening. But the weight of it started two weeks, and her realisation of it, was now. or multiple realizations actually.
First, she was definitely into girls, she couldn't lie to herself any more about that. Second, she had a crush, a full-on crush on the new transfer student, who had arrived about a week ago.
Third, said crush just so happened to be a magical girl. because they were real
Because apparently, those were real. And surprisingly violent. - but, the realization that she found that... kinda attractive. which led to another entirely different identity crisis a tiny bit later.
To be fair, this avalanche of self-discovery only hit after three consecutive sleepless nights, which were brought on by a deeply traumatic experience involving the absolute nightmare fuel known as witch labyrinths. whatever those were... was that what being high felt like? nevermind.
plus the slow and steady realization of her sexuality, with the added bonus of being heavily distracted by binging her old favourite animes. made her completely unable to make any sort of rational decisions, even making toast would be too much thinking power... so...
And then, the blob spoke.
"Is that so? Would you make a contract, then?"
Now, keep in mind:
Madoka was delirious.
Madoka was sleep-deprived.
Madoka was two seconds away from passing out.
Madoka was emotionally compromised.
So, naturally, she agreed.
---
Surprisingly, the wish changed a few things… but also, not much.
Madoka now had an extra set of memories, ones where she figured out her orientation years earlier. Which was nice.
but, unluckily she had no relationships... or maybe that was lucky instead. Maybe that was a good thing. i mean Waking up to find out you had a girlfriend you barely remembered would be... awkward. Inconvenient, weird even. But at the same time, it was demoralizing to realize that even when swinging both ways, she was still painfully single.
At the very least, one thing hadn't changed: her hopeless crush on a certain black-haired, emo magical girl. Unfortunately, she had just realised that... did Homura even like girls? Because if not, that would be not good.
Still, none of that compared to the sheer secondhand cringe of meeting said crush again - who, might she add, had repeatedly warned her not to become a magical girl - after becoming one. The embarrassment alone could've knocked her out.
Luckily, the moment she first saw Homura, she immediately noticed the ring on her own finger. Panic mode activated. A rushed (and very desperate) explanation later, Madoka braced herself for an angry reaction… only to be met with something else entirely.
Homura wasn't mad. She was… accepting? She even conceded that it wasn't Madoka's fault and offered to help her adjust to her new powers.
And Madoka, obviously, accepted.
Now, however, she was faced with an even more important question—did this count as a date?
One-on-one training… alone together… wasn't that basically a date? Even if it was about magic? Who knew?
but the thought of it made her face instantly heat up.
---
It took a week for Homura to decide she was ready for a witch hunt.
Madoka still remembered Sayaka. Still remembered the sight of her, broken and battered, nearly beyond saving, but still fighting. The power of regeneration had kept her alive, but what was the point? She wasn't the Sayaka Madoka once knew.
...It took another week for Homura to let her go by herself.
In those two weeks, Madoka learned a few things.
First, her magic had given her a kind of empathy. A strong one, to be exact. It was like an invisible tether between her and others, one that allowed her to pick up on the surface thoughts of those around her. it was nice.
Second, apparently, bows were ridiculously easy to use. Well, for her at least. They felt as natural as breathing, like picking up an old game after a long break. Was it the magical girl thing? Homura couldn't really explain it, though. Her weapon was a shield, and as she put it: "I mostly use it to create barriers. It's small, so it's not exactly... ideal for combat."
which led to the third thing—Madoka found guns very attractive.
And she only realized this after finding out Homura used them as her weapon of choice.
Oh god.
Was her type seriously forming around everything Homura did? The thought made her face turn slightly red. That would be awkward on so many levels. from embarrassment or from something else.
But the final thing? The one that was absolutely frustrating.
Akemi Homura was soo dense.
Madoka was sure she was laying it on thick—clinging to her, hugging her, holding her hand like it was nothing. She was practically glued to Homura's side, and... nothing. No reaction. Was she just used to it?
Homura had mentioned a close friend she used to have, someone she was really close with. Maybe that girl liked physical contact too.
But seriously? Her flirting? Nothing. Pickup lines? Taken literally. Hints? Missed. EVERYTHING, just brushed aside.
Sure, Madoka could just outright confess. Be blunt. Spill her feelings and get it over with—but where was the fun in that? Confessions were nice and all, but there was something about a slow burn. A good moment, a good time. Getting to know the person, seeing if they were interested too.
That's what her mom always said, anyway. "Romance is like a good drink—take it too fast, and you ruin the taste. The real fun's in the build-up."
And Mama had never been wrong about this stuff. and she was right, it has been fun.
plus
Despite her cool front, Homura cracked. Madoka could see it. The brief flickers of embarrassment that only she seemed to notice. The small sincere smiles that didn't reach anyone else, the usual furrowed brows of frustration that softened when no one was around except her.
all of it, told her one thing. Her advances weren't as ignored as she'd once thought.
Maybe in a month. Maybe in just a few weeks.
I hope she realizes soon, Madoka thought, heart fluttering at the possibility.
---
Madoka is lying on the ground, exhausted to hell and back, the world is once again bright, the storm gone, she looked at her soul gem and knew she wouldn't last
She knew what happens when it fills to the top, she saw it happen. she'd seen someone finish off her best friend because of it. she had seen the monster that came about it.
The thought crossed her mind—asking Homura to end it before the beast inside could emerge.
But the idea alone shattered her heart.
And if it hurt her this much...
It would probably destroy Homura. she couldn't do that to her.
Madoka lifted her head slightly, every muscle in her body ached in protest. Debris littered the ground around her—shattered buildings, broken streets, the aftermath of destruction so complete it was as if the city had been made of nothing more than paper.
Her gaze drifted upward.
And then she saw her.
Homura stood amidst the wreckage, staring at her, eyes heavy with grief.
Madoka could feel it - the weight of her emotions pressing down like a storm. It was raw, blistering, impossible to ignore. Care. Pain. Anger turned inward like a knife. Frustration, helplessness. And above all else, love... tangled with a hundred other feelings that Madoka could barely comprehend. emotions so overwhelming that it felt like...
staring directly at the sun.
Their gazes stayed locked for what felt like an eternity.
Then, Homura exhaled—slow and heavy. She shut her eyes, breaking the connection, and turned away slightly.
"A failed timeline once again..." she muttered, so softly that Madoka almost didn't catch it.
Her fingers twitched, shifting her shield ever so slightly.
Click.
A flash of light.
And then—nothing.
Homura's body crumpled like a puppet with its strings severed, collapsing to the ground with a sickening finality.
Madoka could only stare.
Minutes passed, or maybe just seconds, but it stretched endlessly. Homura's body lay motionless before her, yet something was wrong.
Her soul gem - it wasn't there.
There was no shattered crystal, no fractured remains scattered across the rubble. It was simply... gone. as if erased
The realization sank in slowly, like a cold weight settling in her chest.
She should think. She should process. But thinking felt impossible right now.
So, instead, she did the only thing that made sense. She was about to turn, so might as well deal with it.
She lifted her arm.
Her fingers curled around a jagged chunk of debris.
And she swung.
she too, falling limp.
A/N it ain't madoka magica if it doesn't have suffering.
don't worry next chapter will have more bullshit crack things and less sad stuff.
also please comment, its the only thing that keeps me going.