Wonderland

She should break it. For the sake of all the people who would suffer if her witch came into existence. But as her hand flexed and gripped her muddy pink gem, Madoka hesitated. And ever so lightly, those fingers trembled.

(How pathetic of her)

At least they beat Walpurgisnacht together. Just the two of them. Who would’ve thought? Two newly contracted magical girls were able to defeat the legendary Walpurgisnacht. And all that cost were their futures.

She tried to shoo the pessimistic thoughts away, focusing on just breathing, staring up at the sky. But they barged in her mind like obstinate, uninvited guests. Spiraling and spiraling as whispers grew louder and louder and louder– ( You must forsake yourself for their salvation. It is only right for you to do so. Don’t you think so? Don’t you think they’ll be happier that way?)

How did Sayaka feel, in her last moments before succumbing to her despair? Was it this tiredness weighing her down like iron shackles? Or was it an indescribable emptiness that washed away all she felt, drowning her in single-minded despair?

Madoka tried not to think about her imminent death (rebirth, really). But she worries. About Hitomi, with no other friends left, and no bodies to mourn over. About her family, who she never really said goodbye to. About all the wonderful, wonderful things she’d ruin by turning into a witch.

It hurts. Her soul hurts and Madoka desperately flails around in her mind, gasping for air. Even as she shifts around, Homura doesn’t move. Their cold hands are still on top of one another. And Homura is so very very still.

She can’t turn into a witch. She can’t. She can’t do that. She can’t do that to Tatsuya and Mama and Papa and Hitomi and Homura-chan and–

In a flash, her hand grips on to her tiny little soul (so small yet so precious) and squeezes tight. A crack, a splinter. Her mind chants for her to end it all before she could ruin all she held dear. There’s something building within. Like vapour, coalescing into a large gaseous mass. Madoka squeezes tighter and tighter, hoping to finish the deed before her hands would forcibly stop her once more.

Madoka stops again (she’s such a coward ), and weakly turns her head to face Homura. Tired, but bitterly content amethysts stare back at her.

“I guess...this is the end for us.”  Weakly, softly, Madoka smiles at Homura, ignoring and pushing down the pain that dances through her body.

In return, Homura gives a small nod of confirmation. “Do you have any more grief seeds left?” She murmurs back towards her in question.

No, Madoka doesn’t have anymore left. Not even Sayaka’s. So she turns her head back towards the sky, and wordlessly shakes her head. Perhaps, if she did, would she ask Homura to go back for her? For them? To stop this senseless tragedy from happening once more? (Somehow, Madoka can’t bring herself to reject that thought)

“I see.” And now Homura was gazing up as well, as defeat crept into her tone like an old friend. “Hey...How about we become monsters together,” She took in a breath, and, “...and lay waste to this awful, awful world together? We’ll wipe out everything–anything that’s evil or sad. And just crush, crush, crush it all to dust! Don’t you think,” and oh , she’s crying now, “that would be nice?”

Madoka doesn’t say anything. But the whispers grow louder and louder, screaming in delight and yes yes yes I’ll save them all  I’ll save you—

Again, Madoka forces them to quiet down. She turns around, and clasps Homura’s hand as best as she can. Their darkened gems collide with a soft clink and clank, and Madoka forces on her warmest smile as tears well up in her eyes. She hiccups before speaking, “There’s a lot of awful and...sad things in this world. But there’s also...a lot of things worth protecting–” Agony wracks through her body, and Madoka whimpers in pain. Her grip on Homura’s hands tightens.

“Kaname-sa—”

“I’m scared, Homura-chan. I...I don’t–” She chokes, biting back tears and trying to hold herself together, if only to have just a little more time before turning into a witch.  “I don’t...want to hurt anyone...Don’t want–” Her voice is growing more and more strained, smaller, quieter. “I don’t want to ruin them –” Madoka laces one of her hands with Homura’s, “but I’m also...too scared to do... that. So I’m...glad...you’re here...with me…” And now they’re both crying–tears streaming down all too quickly to be wiped away.

An unexpected bout of pain lanced through her, shocking Madoka into a strangled scream of pain.

“ Madoka! ”

Unsaid words cling onto her tongue, begging to be let out of their prison of wordless cries. Homura finally called her by her name-She’s happy, so so happy, and perhaps she’s starting to become delirious from the pain (or numb to it all), because her smiles have never felt as wide as this. Already she can hear Homura’s own strangled cries of pain. (They’re bound together in shared pain, forever forever forever they’ll be together in her paradise ) Her own vision is getting blurrier and blurrier; her eyes sting with pain.

There isn’t much time left, is there?

With the last of her strength, Madoka laces her fingers tightly with Homura’s. At the very least, she wouldn’t let go of her. ( Together together together we’ll be together together together forever and ever and ever and ever never let you go )

Reality blurs, and slips away before Madoka could even realise it.

The golden filigree of their soul gems twist and bleed out their golden colours, washing away to become a dull cold silver. A second passes, and there is only deep, dark despair left. The clock strikes twelve, and the curtains draw close in preparation for the second act of this play. With the stage set, they are the new and improved actors-the main characters. Salvation starts to scour the lands for helpless souls in need. Carpeting their way with glittering purple sand is her loyal guard, opening pathways and doors to the past, present and future.

They are together, forever, an inseparable pair.