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“Why… You knew you were going to die.”
Homura closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing.
This couldn’t be happening. Madoka was fine just a couple minutes ago, running off to fight the Walpurgis Night.
She opened her eyes, slowly, focusing on the rubble to her left. Once they adjusted, and she spotted a sprig of pink hair soaked in sweat and debris, she folded down onto herself, squeezing her eyes closed.
No. No, no, no, no!
Homura collapsed onto her knees, then fell forward onto her palms.
This… this wasn’t real. Not Madoka.
Seeing Mami die was a lot. She hadn’t even begun to start processing that. But now Madoka? No, this was incomprehensible.
Gravel cut into her hands and knees, drawing blood. But she couldn’t even feel it. All she could do was look down at the leg in front of her and try not to retch.
She’d lived in a hospital. She’d seen death. She’d been at death’s door herself. But nothing, nothing she had ever seen compared to this.
Her savior, lying in the debris before her.
Homura reached out to touch her, but when her hand made contact with flesh, still warm, but unresponsive, she pulled back as if it burned.
This wasn’t fair. Madoka, who had done so much for her, been so much for her, who had defeated the Walpurgis Night without her allies, was gone. Homura, who had done nothing but stand and watch, getting in the way, was left behind, intact.
“I wanted you to live… instead of saving me.”
She wanted to take her place. Homura, who had already mentally prepared herself to die in that hospital, should be the one on the ground, not someone as beautiful and talented as Madoka.
Beautiful… Homura looked up again, masochistically wanting a glimpse of Madoka’s warm face, one more time.
She buckled over again.
No, she couldn’t just trade places. That would be a waste of everything Madoka had done for her. She needed to take this life that she’d been blessed with and use it! But not without the person who made it possible. She didn’t want Madoka to suffer. She didn’t want Madoka to be alive without her family, without Mami, without… without Homura.
No, Homura needed to repay the favor she could never repay. Madoka, who had not only saved her life literally, but had befriended her genuinely when no one else had, and had accepted her faults and all, deserved to be protected.
“Is what you’re saying true, Homura Akemi? Would you be willing to trade your soul for that wish?” Kyubey said, from somewhere up above. Homura had put her head down against Madoka’s chest, crying into her shirt.
“If you have a desire so strong you would be willing to accept a fate of combat, I’ll help you.”
Homura lifted her head. “If I contract with you, will I really have any wish granted?”
“That’s correct. It seems that you qualify.”
She tried to stablize her breath, but couldn’t. It was too much. This world was too much. She knew she had to do something, and she would.
Homura looked again at Madoka’s still, lifeless body.
She would do anything.
“Now tell me, with what wish will you make your Soul Gem shine?”
“I…” She breathed deeply, wiping the tears from her eyes. Her arms shook slightly as she readjusted the glasses on her face.
“I want to relive meeting Madoka for the first time. Not as someone she protects, but as someone who can protect her instead!” She yelled, not at Kyubey, but at the world.
“The contract is complete. Your desire has overcome entropy. Now release your new power!”
Suddenly her world constricted. She felt like she was being pushed and pulled, expanded and compacted all at once.
Then, she opened her eyes.