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Madoka often dreamed of Homura, but she couldn't quite fully remember those dreams. When she awoke, she was left with a strange sort of sound, something like a cry, and her eyes hurt. Her first dream of Homura had been before even meeting the transfer student, and she had dreamed of Homura almost every night since.
Why was she so drawn toward that transfer student? Homura was certainly beautiful, like an alluring mystery, but they rarely spoke, and once when Homura had asked Madoka to take her to the nurse's office, Madoka had been nearly overcome by such a sudden feeling of guilt that her heart had felt as if it were being crushed. Yet sometimes when their eyes met, the flicker of a smile flashed upon Homura's lips, and Madoka saw a shred of hope in those dark eyes.
If she could find a way to protect Homura, Madoka thought, maybe her life would have some meaning. Maybe someone would finally need her.
Madoka's fingers tightened around the handle of her umbrella. It was raining rather heavily as she walked home late from school, and today an empty house awaited her. Her mother was working late tonight, and her father had taken her brother to their doctor for his annual checkup. Madoka hated being home alone these days, but she didn't want to disappoint her parents, so she kept her complaints to herself.
Maybe she should've invited Homura over. Homura always seemed so lonely, and if Madoka could reach out to her and make her smile…
The scent of blood filled her nose, and she froze as she nearly dropped her umbrella.
Homura stood before her, completely soaked, and blood covered the strange outfit of white and purple she wore, and what looked like a shield was strapped to her wrist, and in her hand was a dark, throbbing orb. She lifted her gaze, and her eyes were blank and bloodshot. "Madoka…?" she said meekly.
Madoka wanted to vomit. Homura hadn't been in class today, so she had thought that maybe Homura was ill or something similar, but this was far worse than Madoka had imagined. Steeling herself, she stepped closer and said, "Akemi-san, what happened? We need to get you to a hospital-!"
"No, no hospitals!" Homura's eyes went wide as she jerked back. "This is nothing… You're safe now…"
Biting her lip, Madoka carefully touched Homura's hand, her fingers brushing against that violet gem, and held her umbrella over the both of them. "Then let's go to my place. I'm the class health rep, so maybe I can help you."
Homura shut her eyes as her fingers curled around Madoka's. "You can just call me Homura," she muttered, and she kept close as Madoka guided her.
Madoka's fingers tightened around Homura's, which were unusually cold, she couldn't help but notice. Homura usually seemed so cool and collected, answering all of the teachers' questions with ease and finishing all of the exercises in gym class without breaking a sweat. But now she seemed so vulnerable, with empty eyes and quivering fingers, and it was almost somehow familiar…
Madoka suddenly had an image of a ruined city covered in rain, and lying beside her was an injured, trembling girl in red glasses and twin braids.
Once they were inside Madoka's house, Homura let her hand fall from Madoka's, and again the violet gem on the back of her hand pulsed. "I have something to confess," she said carefully. Her clothes began to glow, and when that glow vanished, she was now in her school uniform, still covered in blood.
Madoka gasped, but willed herself to stay still. She had to be brave. She couldn't turn away or be frightened of Homura. "Homura…chan?" she forced out, and the name tasted strangely familiar on her tongue.
"I'm a magical girl," Homura said, and on her left hand was a silver ring - she did always wear that ring, Madoka had noticed - engraved with dark symbols. "I fight witches. That's the price I paid for this miracle."
"But you're hurt…" Madoka inhaled deeply and took Homura's hand to lead her to the bathroom. Magical girls were protectors, Madoka knew. That was how it was in all the magical girl anime series she loved. And she knew fighting monsters in real life would be dangerous. Yet seeing Homura so distraught and injured…
This wasn't a dream at all. Even if she was a useless girl with no powers or real talent, Madoka had to do something.
After she got the first-aid kit and clean towels, Madoka helped remove some of Homura's bloodied uniform, and Homura didn't resist at all, her eyes hollow instead of embarrassed. Madoka inhaled another deep breath to keep her hands steady as she cleaned blood from Homura's skin. None of Homura's wounds were deep or serious, but they were numerous, and Madoka was shocked by the number of scars. She and Homura were the same age, so how long had Homura shouldered this burden? Was this what it truly meant to be a magical girl?
But what was a magical girl? Madoka couldn't be sure anymore.
Madoka was careful as she cleaned and dressed Homura's wounds, recalling what her mother had taught her about first-aid, and soon she noticed Homura watching her intently. She gulped; Homura's gaze was deep, almost endless, as if she had already seen a thousand lifetimes. "How did you became a magical girl, Homura-chan?" she asked, hoping to break the strange silence.
But Homura didn't answer.
"Do you have a partner? Or a team, like on TV?"
Still Homura said nothing.
Madoka stared at the bandage she had just placed on Homura's shoulder, near her neck. "What if I could become a magical girl too? I've always dreamed-"
"No!" Homura cried, so violently Madoka feared her reopening her wounds. "You and Miki Sayaka cannot become magical girls, no matter what! You can't!"
"Sayaka-chan? But I don't-" Madoka fumbled, almost dropping the gauze in her hands.
"You have a family that loves you very much," Homura said, and her eyes watered as she rested her forehead against Madoka's shoulder. "If you try to change yourself, you'll lose them forever. You can be happy as long as you stay yourself…"
Almost without thinking Madoka laid her hands on Homura's (surprisingly soft, she couldn't help but notice) hair, and Homura trembled against her. What more could she say? She didn't quite understand Homura's words - what did Sayaka have to do with this? Was it that difficult to become a magical girl? And what exactly was a "witch"? Was fighting them really so brutal? Where did they come from? Had someone turned Homura into a magical girl? What had she meant by "miracle"? Yet all Madoka could say was, "Are you cold, Homura-chan? I'll let you borrow a change of clothes."
Homura only nodded wordlessly as she released Madoka.
Madoka led Homura to her bedroom, and as she opened the door, she almost thought she caught a glimpse of a furry white creature outside the window, but then dismissed it as a figment of her imagination. However, as she pulled clothes from her dresser, she saw that Homura had gone deathly pale, and her body was tense, like a spring wound too tight.
Once Homura was dressed in one of Madoka's spare uniforms, Madoka sat on the edge of her bed. "When my dad gets home with Tatsuya - that's my little brother - I'll ask if you can stay the night."
Homura remained still, her violet eyes locked on the window; it was still raining heavily outside. "I don't want to put you in danger."
Madoka's fingers tensed in her lap. "Is fighting witches that dangerous? Are there other magical girls like you?"
"I can protect this city myself," Homura said firmly as she sat beside Madoka. "I'll protect you and your friends and family and this entire city, no matter what."
Madoka laid her hand over Homura's, and Homura jolted. "But Homura-chan, isn't there anything I can do for you? I don't ever want to see you hurt like that again…"
"But that's the fate of a magical girl!" Homura seized Madoka's shoulders with shaking hands, and her gaze had grown sharp. "That scares you, doesn't it? And you're probably frightened of me too, but that's all right. As long as you're safe, my wish will finally…"
Madoka waited for Homura to say more, and she raised her hand to touch Homura's face, her fingertips brushing against black hair. Homura's eyes really were beautiful, and more and more she remembered all her dreams of Homura. Every night was the same, and now that Homura was finally so close, an unfamiliar yet nostalgic longing filled her heart. "Homura-chan," she breathed, letting each syllable linger on her tongue.
Tears fell from Homura's eyes, and she pressed her lips against Madoka's.
The taste of Homura's lips was nostalgic too somehow, as if from a dream, but Madoka could say nothing once that breathless moment passed, and Homura collapsed against Madoka.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Homura sobbed, clutching Madoka tightly, too tightly. "But this time, I'll finally save you, I promise… You can hate me, curse me, but please… Just let me protect you…"
As the rain outside continued to fall, Madoka put her arms around Homura's aching body, and her eyes grew moist as she remembered all those painful dreams.