Short Stories

Madoka x Homura

Madoka, a seraphic girl rapidly approaching womanhood, stood alone on the beach, gazing over the navy water with her innocent blush-colored spheres. Her fuchsia hair danced lightly in the ocean breeze. She smiled to herself with anticipation, resting her cheek against one hand as she hummed "Butterfly" to herself. She wore a plush frilly dress with a wide bottom and puffy sleeves complemented by a pair of tights. Her roseate locks flowed out in pigtails from either side of her head, complementing her unblemished healthily color-touched platinum visage.

Her thoughts wandered to her days in Homura's company. Madoka must have been delivered to her by fate. Homura had uncharacteristically found herself at death's door when Madoka, in a moment of great courage, saved her. From then on, she cared about her with every fiber of her being, but Homura switched from warmth to coldness in a flash, struggling with her inner anguish. But she loved her no matter how many times she pushed her away. That was how it was to this very day.

"Madoka-chan," Homura said simply with no trace of emotion. Her mauve crystals complimented her ebon strands, brushing against her shoulders, belying her empty heart. She was dressed in refined garb befitting her station. She was fair and sturdily built.

"Oh, Homura-chan! You came!" Madoka said breathlessly, reaching out to take her into an embrace. Homura took a half-step back, enough to remind her that she still preferred some distance. Madoka humored her and dropped her arms without comment, still smiling. With that, they began to walk along the beach.

"Homura-chan," Madoka intoned, "the sea is beautiful, isn't it? It's so royal blue and glittering." She glanced toward Homura, who was unresponsive. "U-um... I'm really glad we can spend time together today. It's so lovely and warm."

"I don't care about the weather," Homura snapped.

Madoka jumped a bit and then fell silent, barely whispering, "Sorry."

Almost instantly, guilt flashed across Homura's face, but just as quickly her cold facade returned to hide it. She looked at her, the loveliness of her bloom-colored mane, the hint of sadness in her gentle orbs, and her beauty pierced Homura's heart with shame. Who was she, after all, to hurt such a creature? Homura was to her as a devil to a tenshi. She summoned the strength to confess, "No." Madoka looked up at her with surprise. "Don't be... never mind." I should be the one who's sorry, Homura thought to herself, but she couldn't work up the courage to say it.

Gently, Madoka brought her hand toward hers, whispering, "It's okay. Don't... don't worry for me." For a few moments they passed through another chilly silence. "Madoka-chan," Homura murmured at last. "I like these dates."

"Do you really?" Madoka piped hopefully.

She was burdened by the unexplainable. And yet still Madoka looked at her with such adoration. Homura was undeserving. "Yes," she muttered. "I like spending time with you." Madoka beamed such a happy smile at her that she couldn't help but look away. "I admit it, all right? ... I hate it when you're sad."

Madoka slipped her fingers into Homura's curled hand and whispered, "I'm not so sad. I wish I could make you less sad. You're really hurting inside, I can feel it."

Homura accepted her touch and held her hand in hers, saying nothing.

After a few moments, they found themselves walking down the beach again. Something rose to the front of Madoka's mind -- something she had been trying to beat back all this time. It was so special to her to be with Homura, and she didn't want to pass that time making them both feel horrible. But it just wouldn't leave her alone.

Homura's pained crystals passed over Madoka once impassively before at last she seemed to steel herself and intone, "Madoka-chan. You've been worrying."

"Homura-chan... it's..."

And at that moment everything came together, all of the magic and the hurt that had been building that day, and she locked her orbs with hers and whispered, "You can tell me."

It was like a floodgate burst, or some barrier of fear had been struck down. Madoka shook her head and everything came out at once. "I don't know if I can put it into words. I... lately... it might not even be just lately.... It's nothing. It's nothing! I just... I don't feel well.... I don't know where it is, whether it dwells in my heart in my head. It hurts, Homura-chan... there's nothing that helps. Except that... sometimes, I feel a bit better when you're by my side...."

Homura listened silently and solemnly. At last, when all the words had left Madoka and she was at a loss for words, Homura reached out to her and took a deep breath to whisper back, "I... I understand, Madoka-chan. Please believe me. It's happened to me, and... lately, I keep thinking about it too. Your shroud of pain and mine... maybe they're not the same, but I... I think I know how you feel." She laid a hand on Madoka's shoulder. "That awful sadness... I just... I just want you to know, Madoka-chan... you're not alone."

Madoka's eyes began to burn, and she abruptly pulled Homura into a fierce embrace. Homura's crystals widened at first, but then she too felt overwhelmed by emotion and succumbed to the warmth of Madoka's touch.

"You," Madoka whispered, her breath hot on Homura's ear. "As long as you're here, I'll be all right." They held each other as tears trickled down cheeks and dripped onto the shifting sands to be carried away into the sea. With time and soothing embraces, their pain dissipated into a mist swept out by the ocean breeze and into the setting sun.

They basked in each other's quiet companionship for a few moments.

"Mm. Sunset."

Madoka lifted her head at Homura's words to behold the dying sun's terra radiance. "How beautiful."

After a moment of silence, Homura asked, "How long will we last?"

"I think we'll be forever," Madoka murmured in response.

"Hmm," Homura said only. But when Madoka looked at her, she saw a glimmer of hope in her hollow depths.

Madoka sighed with contentment and brought Homura closer. She gazed at the beautiful caramel rays of the falling sun, thinking about everything that had transpired on this day and all that would pass between them.

"Aishiteru, Homura-chan."

"Aishiteru too, Madoka-chan."

Their lips met, and coral strands met sable ones, aflame in the dying light. The sand was their witness and the rumbling ocean their approving audience, and Homura, her eternally faithful lover. Madoka thought to herself that nothing could be more perfect in the world.