Peace on Earth [PMMM]

[UrielAngeli]

On Christmas Night

The sharp report of the musket shattered the last demon as the false reality around them cracked and crumbled.

"Well, that's that," Mami said, her musket bursting into a cloud of ribbons. Against the shadowed and dingy construction site and the subdued colors of the other two magical girls, she stood out like a beacon, a sunflower growing out of cracked and worn concrete. "The miasma seems to be all clear for tonight. Good job, Ms. Sakura, Ms. Akemi." The three magical girls stood together in the darkness, the lights of the city reflecting against the overcast sky.

"Ah, man," the red-clad girl said, slinging her spear across her shoulders and retrieving a bag of donut holes she had stashed somewhere in her trenchcoat-like dress. "And here I was just getting worked up. At least we got a good haul for the night." She glanced over to the eldest magical girl of Mitakihara City. "Hey, Mami, any chance for a midnight snack?" Mami giggled, bending to scoop up the white form of Kyubey as he darted towards her from the shadows of the unfinished building.

Homura lost herself in her work, dismissing her bow and outfit. She began to police the area, eyes flashing back and forth as she retrieved grief cubes, carefully collecting each small pile while keeping a sharp watch for stragglers that had bounced away during combat.

"Hey, Homura," Kyouko called loudly from the top of a bulldozer. She glanced up, spotting the two magical girls piling cubes into a bright yellow bag Mami had fashioned from her ribbons. "How many'd you get?"

"Fourteen," she responded, "minus the six I'll need to cleanse my soul gem."

[This was a particularly productive hunt,] the Incubator on Mami's shoulder noted, his red gaze focusing laserlike on Homura's form. [Tell me, what factors contributed to your incredible efficiency tonight, Akemi Homura?]

Homura ignored him, handing her excess cubes to Mami.

[If we could reproduce the conditions that improved your performance tonight, it would be useful for the harvesting efforts of other magical girls elsewhere,] the red-and-white creature prompted. Homura froze her heart further, dropping into the familiar cold anger that granted her focus, her withering glare piercing the night.

"Eight for the reserve then," Mami broke the awkward silence, her tone falsely bright as she tipped the white cubes into the ribbon-bag. "You don't need any for your emergency stash?"

"Its levels are acceptable," she replied, holding the grief cubes to her gem, corruption leeching away in granules of shadow. "What time will we meet for patrol tomorrow?" She tossed her spent cubes towards Mami, watching as the rat on her shoulders bounced back and forth to collect them all.

Mami and Kyouko glanced at each other. "Tomorrow is Christmas, Ms. Akemi," Mami replied, shaking her head.

"Yeah!" Kyouko chimed in. "You know what that means – Christmas dinner!" she continued, stars forming in her eyes. "It's the only time of the year you can get stuff like whole roast turkey, stuffing, puddings, European-style sausages…" she trailed off, drooling.

"If it's Christmas tomorrow, doesn't that make it more imperative that we ensure the safety of the people who are celebrating? Restaurants will be packed full, and there will be many couples in secluded places where they will be easy prey for demons," Homura rebutted.

The two looked honestly taken aback by her attitude, before the confusion smoothed from Mami's face and she gave a small laugh. "Sometimes I think we forget that you aren't a veteran, with your skills and attitude," she giggled.

"Ah!" Kyouko exclaimed in understanding, snapping her fingers. "That's right. It's kind of funny that we're in a position to explain something to you," she laughed. "Nobody speak – let me savor this moment!" Homura frowned repressively.

"Ms. Akemi," the yellow-haired girl continued where she had been interrupted, "there are no demons on Christmas Day."

"Come again?" was the only reply Homura could make.

"It's the one day we get off every year," Kyouko said. "When I was younger, I thought it was because… well, it turns out nobody really knows why the demons disappear. It's just one of those facts of life. Right, Kyubey?"

[Indeed. Even we don't understand why demons don't hunt humans on December 25,] the creature replied, tilting his head. [Our best theory is that there some quality unique to the emotions given off by you humans at Christmas that repels the miasma, but there are difficulties with that hypothesis.]

The black-haired girl stilled as the implications hit her.

Christmas Day.

Homura would have nothing to do on Christmas Day.

"Hey, Homura. How about you come hang with us on Christmas! Mami'll be cooking of course," Kyouko smirked.

She couldn't deal with this right now. Her face settled into the pleasant mask she used to interact with human society. "Thank you for your kind invitation. I hope that I will be able to visit," she responded as a few fat snowflakes began drifting from the sky. "See you tomorrow."

Heedless of the magical cost, she sprang into the air with a single beat of her immense white wings, followed by the worried gazes of the only two people in the world who would call her friend.

=======

Homura glided above the city on her shining pinions, angling towards her flat across the river. Snowflakes were coming down steadily, reducing her field of vision. No normal human could have seen more than a few feet from their face, but to Homura, who had torn apart and rebuilt the enchantments that allowed her to inhabit her corpse dozens of times, steering through the storm was child's play, barely demanding a tithe of her attention. The rest was on the morrow:

Christmas.

She could still remember, although vaguely and dimly, her younger years at the Catholic orphanage in Tokyo two and a half decades ago. Her life there hadn't been happy, exactly, but the celebration of Christmas had always stood out as a time of joy in an otherwise weary existence. To the younger Homura, even the Vigil Mass the nuns had required the orphans to attend was a unique and joyful experience, one that never failed to uplift her spirit. Even though the rest of the year would be cheerless, with never quite enough for all of the orphans, Christmas for her was a magical time filled with music of incredible beauty, where she and her fellow orphans had more than enough delicious food to eat and new clothes and toys. It had been a simpler, happier time.

It almost felt blasphemous for her to remember being happy without… her. That anyone should be happy without her presence, when their contentment was purchased with her suffering.

Homura corrected her course with a flick of her wingtip, nearly grazing the bridge where she had confronted Walpurgisnacht so long ago. Even in her reverie, she shuddered at the memory of insane laughter and that incredible, all-consuming pressure. Her wings tucked close to her body and she rocketed forwards, away from her worst failure.

Only a few moments later, she braked with one last flare of her wings before dropping to the roof of her apartment complex, her wings flaring and sending a whirlwind of flakes flying. For a moment, she stood in the swiftly-accumulating snow.

She couldn't stand trying to celebrate anything without Madoka. She knew that clearly; without her best and only friend, she was…incomplete. Broken. She had thrown everything away in pursuit of her salvation. Now, in her failure, she only managed to continue by keeping Madoka's wishes – Madoka's love – clearly in her mind.

Even worse would be trying to celebrate Christmas; of the time before her long illness had soured her faith, and Madoka's plight had broken it, Christmas was one of the only fond memories she had. She wouldn't desecrate the holiday, wouldn't permit herself the happy memories in her perpetual failure.

She would have to keep herself busy tomorrow, she decided as she finally opened the roof access door, plowing the accumulated snow away and leaving a rapidly-melting slick of ice. Perhaps she could practice her magic, or attempt to recover some of her old capabilities. It would be extremely useful to have access to a dimensional pocket again, or be able to create a basic Labyrinth. Plans for training occupied her thoughts, kept her busy.

As she closed the door to her apartment, she glanced at the clock – 10:48. Five hours of enforced inactivity would be sufficient to maintain her functionality. Her daily clothes went in the wash, an outfit sufficiently warm so as not to draw attention was prepared for the morning. It wasn't like extremes of temperature had any negative impact on her capabilities anymore, but attracting the attention of others was always a bother. The presents she had obtained for Mami and Kyouko were ready, the selection of teas in a fancy wooden box by the door, resting on top of the envelope with the other gift. She could deliver them first thing in the morning, she decided as she brushed her teeth; neither of her seniors would be up before sunrise, so it shouldn't be a problem to avoid both of them. Only one trip should be necessary before she could lose herself in the outskirts of the city.

She lay down, ramrod-straight on top of her coverlet, hands folded over her breast and ring glowing faintly in the darkness, falling into a trancelike state as her mind slowed to a crawl.

She didn't dream.

She didn't think.

Bliss.

And then, sometime during the night, she felt a hand on her cheek and a sad whisper. "Oh, Homura." She began to rouse, but something stopped her, soothed her. Muzzily, she moved, dreamlike, following half-heard directions as she sat up in the bed, then laid down again, this time on her side. She felt unfamiliar warmth encompass her as soft blankets covered her body, a sweet whisper filling her ears.

Homura Akemi really and truly fell asleep for the first time in seven years.



AN: It's half a year from Christmas, but the Muses keep their own counsel. Hopefully this short story will be enjoyable nonetheless. I would especially appreciate feedback on how well I caught the "voices" of the characters and the "tone" of the original Japanese.

AN2: Regarding the two-and-a-half decades; in this interpretation, Homura went through about 600 loops. About two-thirds of those were shorter than the full month. Hence, about 300 full months, or 25 years, maybe a bit more.

 

[UrielAngeli]

menosay: Thank you very much for your compliments! I appreciate your feedback tremendously.

News of Great Mirth

The sun was shining, and she was warm.

Homura woke slowly, half in a fog, but she was sure that the sun wasn't supposed to be shining yet, and certainly not so strongly that she could see the light through the cracks of her drawn curtains. And she was warm, and comfortable. She hadn't even realized how badly her body had felt, how cold and sore she had been for so long, until she compared it with the warmth and comfort she felt now. She must have overslept –

…She had slept.

How?

Homura had slept, and there hadn't been dreams – hadn't been nightmares, of her failures, of her failure –

I – don't want to be a witch –

Homura shuddered, sitting up and throwing off the blankets. She needed to think of something, anything else, anything but that dead body.

There was a soft moan from her right side. She whirled –

A body, in her bed, in her dreams. Pink hair flowed messily over the plain white fabric of the pillowcase. Her mind reeled, even as the impossible vision stirred awake. She must still be dreaming. Her body began wheezing, clawing for air it no longer truly needed. This must be the beginning of her nightmare –

Her body and her mind locked in place as the vision in her own bed opened impossible pink eyes. She could feel herself trembling – could feel the onslaught of autonomic responses she had long since disabled, of emotions she had locked away – even as the person before her stirred from her rest, yawning and sitting up in the bed. It was impossible!

The next thing she knew, there was a tender hand on her cheek and concerned eyes gazing into her own. She swallowed thickly, forcing herself to speak.

"…Madoka?"

She would never forget the kind smile that lit up that face, that beautiful face. "Happy Christmas, Homura."

Homura threw her arms around the gently smiling girl and wailed as if her world was coming to an end.

=======

Somehow – Homura wasn't quite sure how – they had moved off of the bed, with her still clinging tightly to Madoka. On the way, Madoka had somehow found a pair of her old glasses, and in her dazed state Homura had put up no resistance to Madoka's proclamations that she would look "even cuter" with the "festive" red glasses – not, if she were perfectly honest with herself, that she would have put up much of a resistance to Madoka even if she had been coherent. The pink-haired girl had shooed her gently away and out of her sparse kitchen, sending her to open the blinds and curtains she had drawn across the windows of her three-room apartment.

Light spilled into the living space of her flat, glittering and reflecting off the blanket of snow that had covered the city during the night.

Homura turned back around. The vision of the untouched snow was beautiful, but not half as beautiful as the girl she could barely see through the open door to her kitchenette. Transfixed, she drank in the sight of Madoka humming merrily, puttering about the cramped space.

"Breakfast's ready!" Suddenly, Madoka was coming out of the kitchen in her pink nightgown, bearing steaming plates piled high with food. Homura started and blushed – she had been standing, staring for how long – twenty minutes, more? She took a seat at her tiny table with Madoka.

Homura couldn't seem to stop staring. Somehow, Madoka had managed to take her stock of instant meals and sandwich supplies and fashion a European-style breakfast of French toast, eggs, and even small slices of meat and vegetables. Madoka caught her staring and grinned. "You need to take better care of yourself while I'm away, Homura," she teased gently. "You're really lucky I got my cooking abilities from my father. Eat up!" The pink-haired girl dug into her meal with a vengeance.

Homura picked up her fork hesitantly. "Madoka?" The other girl looked up from her toast, swallowing. "Is this a dream? Are you really back?"

Madoka's eyes suddenly filled with an immense, nearly-incomprehensible sense of compassion and understanding, and for the first time, Homura was reminded that her friend was something much more than any human being. She set her fork down, catching Homura's hand in her own. "I'm back for Christmas, Homura."

Back. For Christmas. Her mind swum with the implications. Madoka hadn't really returned; she was merely visiting, soon, she would be gone. For a second, Homura considered her feelings, and found to her surprise, nothing but pure happiness. Madoka's presence might be fleeting, but seeing her friend again – it was so much more than she deserved.

"I'm glad," she finally said, putting her heart into her voice and gripping Madoka's hands tightly with her own before letting go. She was rewarded with a beaming smile. Homura finally took a bite of her meal.

It was the best food she had ever tasted.

She chewed and swallowed. "How are you able to be back? I thought that you were the Law of Cycles – that you could never…"

Madoka speared a bite of syrup-laden toast with her fork. "That's quite a story," she said. "To put it briefly, I was playing around with ways to get you the Christmas present I helped make for you, when someone else decided to give us both a Christmas present and helped me to do," here she waved her hand, indicating her body, "this. To put it simply, I'm there," she pointed up, "but I'm here at the same time."

"You made me a Christmas present?" The instant the words were out of her lips, Homura reddened. She wished she had asked something more intelligent, something to answer the thousand-and-one questions she had.

Madoka smiled teasingly, leaning back in her chair. "Uh-huh! But you won't get your present 'til this evening!"

Homura smiled weakly. "You said someone helped you?"

"Yes. He's much further up the Chain of Being than I am," Madoka said. "Oh, don't be too surprised – it's hardly like I'm alone up there, not even counting all of our sisters."

"You're not alone?" Homura hated how her voice was trembling. Somehow, she realized, looking down at her plate, she had eaten her entire breakfast. She felt a small pang of sadness.

"I know what I thought I was getting into, and what Kyubey said," the pink-haired slip of a girl laughed gently. "But you could fill libraries the size of this world with the number of things the Incubators are mistaken about, and that's not even counting the times they're just plain wrong." Madoka pushed away her plate, and in a movement that seemed too awkward for an immortal aspect of existence she scooted her chair closer to Homura's, wrapping her arms around her. "But even with everyone else – and even though Sayaka and a few others have helped quite a bit – I still never stop missing my friends and my family." Madoka buried her head in Homura's shoulder, muffling her next words. "And especially you."

Homura found her arms snaking around the tiny girl, hand with her violet soul gem ring combing through Madoka's pink hair. Tears sprung to her eyes, this time gentle tears, not wails of grief like those that had been forced from her before. For the first time she realized that something else had cracked in her shattered soul this morning, something new – but in a good way, like a bone that had healed wrongly and had been rebroken in order to be set properly. The bitterness that she had carried for so long seemed to be draining away. Homura closed her eyes and let the tears flow as she reveled in Madoka's presence, her comforting weight. Here, on two rickety chairs by a folding table covered in dirty dishes, she had found her peace.

A few minutes later, Madoka and Homura gently disentangled from each other as Homura wiped her face on her napkin. Madoka gave a watery giggle. "I'm sorry, I cried all over your pajamas."

"Don't say you're sorry to me. Never say you're sorry to me," Homura commanded.

Madoka smiled gently at her. "But I'm still sorry. I hate it whenever I do anything to make you sad, or cause trouble for you."

Homura opened her mouth to respond, still choosing her words, before swallowing them back and asking, "Are you safe?"

Madoka frowned. "Safer than I was as a human – before I got mixed up with magical girls and witches!" she hastily corrected herself.

Suddenly Homura's head swiveled to face the door, catching something on the edge of her hearing. She stood from her chair. Madoka smiled again, immense happiness beaming from her face. "I'll get the dishes, Homura. You might want to answer the door."

Homura pushed her chair in, hearing the thudding of heavy boots dashing up the stairwell and the sound of the faucet running and dishes clinking in the next room. She somehow had never felt more self-conscious than she was right now, standing in her tear-stained purple striped pajamas, with Madoka right there… Did she have time to change? Wait, the noises from outside her apartment… was that…arguing?

Oh, no. She wouldn't, would she?

A red spark leapt from her doorknob, the lock clicking back.

Of course she would.

Homura's front door hit her wall with a resounding crash, leaving a deep divot and shaking dust from the ceiling, drifting motes falling gently towards the ground. A figure in too-short shorts and a light jacket stood framed in the doorway, one booted foot still extended from where it had impacted the door.

"Saddle up, Homura!" the rowdy voice of Sakura Kyouko called as she lowered her leg and strutted in as if she owned the building, carrying a massive bundle of candy canes under her arm. "It's Christmas, and you're going to have some fun whether you like it…or…" Kyouko trailed off at the sight of the furiously blushing Homura.

She had never wished she still had the ability to stop time more than this very instant.

Mami strolled in, as graceful as always despite the fact she had to have been running just a moment before to keep up with the other girl. "Kyouko! Bursting into someone's house like that…"

Mami too trailed off, catching sight of Homura.

Then she began to giggle, hiding her expression daintily behind a single hand.

Kyouko burst out laughing. "Hahaha! You, you --- Glasses! Hahahahaha!"

Homura blinked, then blanched, whipping her glasses off of her face. Mortified, she stared at the bulky red frames in her hands. For a moment, she froze, torn –

Then her resolve cleared. Madoka liked her glasses.

Homura jammed her glasses back on her face, mustering a reasonable facsimile of her normal expressionless 'withering glare'. "Is there something I can do for either of you?" In the other room the faucet stopped running. Mami looked primed to burst into a fit of giggles again, and Kyouko's continued laughter was making it difficult for her to stand.

"Is everything alright?" Madoka appeared from the kitchen, still dressed in her pink nightgown and carrying a tray with Homura's battered old tea service and a steaming pot of hot water.

Mami was taken aback, instantly recovering her composure. [Kyouko,] she commanded as the sniggering girl began fighting back her laughter. She caught the redhead by the arm and pulled her back to her feet, plastering a smile on her face.

Madoka set the tea on Homura's folding table. "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Kaname Madoka. Please take care of me!" Madoka said with a bow and a happy smile.

======

Homura's folding table had been dragged over to her well-used couch, the four girls crammed together around the tea service.

"Forgive my impertinence, but would you be the same Madoka that Ms. Akemi said was dead?" Mami enquired, a gentle but brittle smile on her face.

Madoka easily matched her with a smile of her own. "I'm afraid that my cute little Homura had very good reason for thinking that," she replied. "I truly wish, from the bottom of my heart, that I could have been there for my very best friend."

Silence descended around the table. Unusually, Kyouko was completely serious, eyes boring into an unruffled Madoka.

[Homura,] Mami spoke into her head, her expression never wavering as she politely sipped her tea. [Did you know Madoka from before or after you became a Magical Girl?]

[Don't worry, I know all about magic,] Madoka cut in before Homura could begin to formulate a response. The other two girls jumped slightly in their seats, startled.

Kyouko recovered first, leaning forward. "So you're a potential, then."

Madoka giggled again, her good humor overflowing. "Oh no, I'm a Magical Girl. I found a wish I was willing to give my life for," she said, setting down her tea and catching Homura's hand. Homura flinched.

What have I been fighting for?

But Madoka was there, her small hand warm in her own, gazing kindly at her.

[Sometimes I might regret the consequences, but I will never regret my wish,] Madoka whispered to her.

If someone says it's wrong to have hope, then I'll tell them they're wrong, every single time. And I know I'll always tell them so.

"If you're a magical girl, then where's your soul gem?" Kyouko butted in, frowning, her eyes passing over Madoka's bare hands.

Madoka let go of Homura's hand, smiling enigmatically. "Oh, around." She picked up her chipped teacup, taking another sip. Her smile grew until she was grinning at Homura. "It's too bad we don't have school right now. I never realized how fun it is to play the 'mysterious transfer student' for once." Homura found herself smiling back happily.

"Does that mean that you'll be rescuing me again?" she teased, before flinching internally, her expression faltering.

Madoka wasn't put off at all, instead radiating that intense, almost superhuman sense of compassion. "I'll always be waiting to catch you."

Homura felt her smile turning bittersweet, but no less genuine.

She turned back around to face the other two magical girls. For some reason, the always-composed Mami seemed taken aback, and even Kyouko appeared completely flabbergasted. "Is something wrong?"

Mami gave a small cough, before taking another sip of her tea. Somehow she managed to make the action look dignified and ladylike, even seated at a table with a delinquent, two girls in their bedclothes, and sipping from a chipped and cracked cup that had obviously seen better days. "We're very sorry for visiting without calling ahead, especially when you had company coming over." The yellow-haired girl fell silent, obviously inviting a response.

"Please don't be upset with Homura," Madoka finally replied, after taking a moment to marshal her thoughts. "I'm afraid I dropped in on her completely unexpectedly."

"You will always be welcome wherever I am," Homura said, her voice daring anyone to contradict her.

Mami took another sip of tea, glancing it the wall clock. Homura followed her gaze – 10:41 AM. "Ms. Sakura and I were hoping that you would be available to visit with us today. We were planning on going out for a few hours, then coming back to my home to cook a Christmas dinner this afternoon and evening." She set her teacup back on the table. "Both of you would be welcome, of course."

"Thank you so much, we'd love to!" Madoka said cheerfully. "Homura should spend more time with her friends," she said, mock-frowning.

Homura found her eyes watering up in happiness before reining herself in, schooling her expression.

"Let's go get changed. Homura, can I borrow some of your clothes?" Madoka asked.



AN: DYNAMIC ENTRY! Kyouko is fun to write – I hope I remained true to her character.

AN2: "Is something wrong?" Yes, Homura, something is wrong. You're acting like a human being. You're SMILING. Surely, it must be a sign of the apocalypse!

Homura is such a terribly, terribly broken human being. How can anyone's heart not go out to her?

 

[UrielAngeli]

Our Redeemer Made us Glad

In the aftermath of the storm, Mitakihara looked not like a human city filled with monuments of glass and steel but like a fairy kingdom of ice and snow and crystal. Few people had yet braved the deep drifts that locked the city down, and Mitakihara Public Services were just beginning to clear the major thoroughfares.

Taking high-stepping strides through the pristine snow, broken only by the tracks of a few adventurous souls, Homura let the cheerful conversation of her companions flow around her as she indulged in the presence of her best friend. A small smile seemed permanently affixed to her face. Madoka finally jolted her from her reverie as she dropped behind Mami and Kyouko, snagging Homura's arm in her own. Her pale lavender knee-length coat stood out against Homura's outfit of unbroken black, her light jacket and thin pants failing to ward off the chill and the all-encompassing damp of the snow.

"The city looks so beautiful like this," Madoka said. She shook her head, unbound pink hair flowing gently from side to side. "I hope that no one was hurt overnight."

"The homeless and the poor," muttered Homura with a small frown, her good mood decreasing. "I try to protect them especially, for you," she said, "but it's never enough." Ahead of them Kyouko punched Mami in the shoulder, dancing away with a candy-cane hanging from her mouth as the yellow-and-black dressed girl surreptitiously launched a dozen ribbons towards her.

Madoka was silent for a moment as they emerged into a plowed roadway, lagging behind the two playfully bantering girls. Kyouko continued retreating from Mami, teasing her all the way. Homura could hear her heckling disturbing the all-encompassing silence of the frozen city. As Kyouko hurdled a short stone fence into a park where the trees crouched heavy, branches laden with snow, she contently watched the other two girls disappear between the trees. Madoka's white-gloved hand slipped down to take Homura's own. She frowned. "You're cold."

Homura shrugged indifferently. "I'm not in any danger from it." She glanced at Madoka, then froze, unable to look away from the unexpectedly serious expression. "Ah – it doesn't degrade my performance either!"

Madoka huffed, then suddenly dragged her over to a park bench on the other side of the street. A pink spark of magic leapt out, clearing the bench and leaving it warm and dry, heat radiating up to caress Homura's face. Madoka pulled her into a seat, before letting go of her arm. She unzipped her thick jacket, shrugging it off. "Come on," Madoka said gently, pulling Homura close.

Homura squeaked.

Madoka managed to wrap the jacket around their shoulders, covering them like a thick blanket. Homura froze for a second, before relaxing bonelessly, laying her head against Madoka's shoulder and closing her eyes, reveling in the warmth.

Madoka's quiet, loving voice broke the silence that had grown about them. "Homura."

Homura opened her eyes, only to find that her glasses had steamed up, completely obscuring her vision. A pulse of purple energy, and her glasses cleared. Homura blinked her eyes.

This was new.

Her vision was now overlaid by continually shifting streams of light and darkness, passing over the streets and shops and homes. Black mist drifted through her sight, and from her right came a gentle pink glow. In the corner of her vision, a clock read the time – 11:26 AM.

This could be useful. Her mind began to click into gear –

And then another pink spark raced across her vision, wiping her glasses clean. "No work for you today," Madoka giggled.

"Ah! Madoka! I'm so sorry –"

Madoka just giggled harder. "Don't worry about it, my cute little Homura." She sobered abruptly. "Homura. What do you feel?"

"…Happy," said Homura. "Warm. Like I'm home."

"I told you. I am always with you; and I will always be waiting to take you home," Madoka said gently. "Just because you don't let your discomfort or pain or cold affect you, just because you don't let yourself give in to your sorrow – it doesn't mean you don't feel them anyway. It hurts me when you are hurting," she said, cupping Homura's face and turning to look at her. "How would you feel if I did the same thing?"

Homura didn't answer, her eyes downturned.

"Homura. Please, take better care of yourself. For my sake?" Madoka asked.

Homura gave a shaky nod.

DONG!

A bell, ringing the half-hour. Madoka glanced to the right, where the steeple of one of the city's few Christian churches broke the unending expanse of two- and three-story buildings. Above, its bell tower clawed at the heavens, like a solitary pine tree climbing from a grassy plain; below, light and music spilled from the entrance of an obviously repurposed gymnasium. Welcome, proclaimed a frozen banner, hanging stiffly from above the double doors, and A Feast for the Feast of Christmas! A few sad figures, dirty and bent, trudged through the blackened snow of the street towards the open doors.

Simple pleasures. Food for the hungry, warmth for the cold. A place to rest.

"Cold and death have always gone hand-in-hand," Madoka said, again radiating the kind of wisdom one might expect out of a venerable sage. "The cold of winter, the cold of a corpse. The cold of metal, the servant of man, hammered and beaten to an edge, steel to steal and spill the warmth from other men's bodies. And, of course," she continued quietly, "the coldness of men's hearts, unable to be touched by pity or hope or love. You've been hurting for so long, my faithful Homura," she said. "You purged yourself of all the dross, of everything unrelated to your mission. I watched you, over and over again as you honed yourself to an edge, as you broke and then cast yourself back into the fires of suffering to forge yourself. Again and again you repeated the cycle."

Homura's mind whirled. Was this a condemnation? Pity? What was it? Her breath came in short gasps. Madoka took her face again, gently but firmly turning her face to look at her. Unwillingly, Homura met her eyes, waiting for the condemnation of her goddess.

She looked for rejection, but found only love.

"Homura. You need a purpose in order to live," Madoka said, flashing a slight smile. "Don't you think I'm not the same way? But you cannot continue as you have. You cannot keep discarding parts of yourself." Madoka was quiet for a moment. "A long time ago, you went from throwing away the unnecessary things to throwing away things integral to your very being. You gave up on surviving, living only through sheer will, hoping only to save me before you let yourself die. And if you continue on the same path, you'll soon break in a way that no one will be able to fix, not even in death."

Homura realized with a shock that Madoka was actually beginning to cry, tears welling up in her eyes. "Madoka," she gasped, clutching at her hands within the coat they were huddled under.

"Do you think I want that?" Madoka cried, her eyes overflowing. "One day, when I come to take you home, we'll finally be able to be together forever. Do you think that I want to lose my best friend? That, instead of having you with me, I'll be forced to go on alone, for all time, because you've thrown everything away until you're less than a shell of who you used to be?" Homura felt tears running down her own face, freezing before they even reached the bottom of her cheeks. She threw herself at Madoka, clutching her in a tight hug as she sobbed into Homura's shoulder.

They held each other tightly, only backing off a few minutes later. Madoka scrubbed at her face, hiccupping. "My cute little Homura," she said, finally, after they had both quieted. "Please, start building yourself up again. Build yourself for a purpose, have a plan in mind if you must," she continued. "But stop sacrificing to punish yourself. I don't want you to be miserable; I want you to be happy now, as I want us to live in joy together one day. Will you do that? Please?"

Homura could only nod. "Yes. Yes, Madoka, I will!"

"I'm so glad," Madoka said.

Suddenly, vagrants of all ages began to pour out of the shelter, raising a terrible commotion. Homura started, her soul gem releasing from its ring form as she clutched it tightly. She eyed the milling crowd warily as the noise increased.

A man stepped into the street in front of the crowd, raising his hands, and they quieted.

Then they began to sing.

"Hark the herald angels sing,/Glory to the newborn king,"

They were butchering the music and the lyrics, but Homura could tell just from the sound of their voices. Their hearts were in the music; they were truly celebrating, if not the birth of the Christ then at least a holiday of "Peace on earth, and mercy mild."

"See?" said Madoka. "Even in the midst of the most terrible cold, there is beauty, and happiness."

"Yes," Homura nodded, leaning against Madoka.

They remained that way for a time, even after the crowd down the street had begun to disperse.

WHAP!

Homura pitched forward as something cold and wet impacted the back of her head, nearly taking Madoka with her. She turned her fall into a tumble, rolling out of the coat and coming up in a crouch to face –

Kyouko, standing next to Mami, tossing a snowball up and down in her hand. Homura's eye twitched. Kyouko had interfered with her Madoka Time, her precious, precious Madoka Time.

Kyouko would pay.

"You should see your face, Homura!" the blue-and-red clad figure laughed, candy cane dangling insolently from the side of her mouth. She smirked. "You know, you have snow in your hair." Mami giggled gently

Homura shot a swift glance sideways at Madoka where she was kneeling on the ground. Below the other two girls' line of sight, Madoka was swiftly compacting two snowballs. Her eyes flicked towards the two girls, then upwards and back to Homura. She caught Madoka's plan instantly.

Madoka tossed the first snowball to Homura underhand, both girls turning and rising so smoothly their actions looked rehearsed. As one, they wound up and threw the icy ammunition with all the power and speed of their transhuman bodies.

WHAP!

Kyouko had tensed up, prepared to dodge, but never needed to move from where she stood underneath the trees. "Ha! You missed us by a mile! Are you going to throw the next shot right over our heads too?" she taunted.

WHUMP!

Kyouko and Mami shrieked as they were suddenly covered by a blanket of wet, clinging snow, dropping from the overloaded branches of the bare trees. Madoka jumped up and down in excitement, snatching Homura into a hug.

"Oh, it's on now!" Kyouko sputtered, wiping snow from her face and clothes.

=======

"I can't believe you two decided to cheat like that!" Kyouko exclaimed indignantly as the four girls poured in to the warmth of the festively-decorated mall. Santa statues and garlands were festooned everywhere, as J-Pop renditions of popular Christmas songs poured over the sound system.

"You never said anything about not using magic," Homura said expressionlessly, only a faint twinkle in her eye belying her amusement.

Mami seemed caught between a frown and a smile as her mouth twitched. "Generally, using magic for frivolous purposes is frowned upon."

"But it's Christmas, Ms. Mami," Madoka said as the four strolled through the mall, just one of many small knots of shoppers milling about. "Surely you can cut your juniors some slack one day of the year!"

"I suppose I could, Ms. Kaname," Mami replied, her expression finally settling into a cheerful smile. "Oh! Would anyone care for a spot of tea to warm up?" The other three murmured their assent, and the girls turned into one of the cafes popular with the school-aged crowd. After they had gathered their drinks, they sat down, lapsing into a comfortable silence, sipping their tea. In the silence, Homura's sharp hearing began to pick up the individual conversations of the milling crowd.

"-have you been to one of his concerts?"

"Ohmygosh, he's so dreamy! And so talented, especially at our age –"

"San-ta! Mama, San-ta!"

"Okay, little guy. Let's go see Santa!"

"-are continuing to study the unusual snowstorm that has struck all across Japan. Meanwhile, the weather hasn't been the only unusual event in our skies this Christmas. But this particular phenomenon isn't meteorological, it's astronomical! Joining us live from the Okayama Astrophysical Observatory –"

Was that a TV? Homura hadn't realized there was an electronics store in this particular mall. Maybe it was in the music store, or perhaps in a bar or restaurant?

"So," Mami's voice drew her attention back to the table. "Ms. Kaname, we'd all like to get to know you better, and be friends with you too, especially since we're all magical girls." Mami took a dainty sip of her tea. "I thought we might be able to start by talking about what we like most about Christmas!"

"Oh, that sounds nice!" Madoka replied. "Why don't you start first?'

"Hm… I think for me, the thing I enjoy most about Christmas is spending it with my friends and… well, with my friends," she said, plastering on a cheerful expression.

"Come on, Mami," Kyouko said after a short silence, throwing an arm around Mami and crunching on one of her candy canes. "You know that we're your family."

Homura's mind flashed to all of the different times Mami had reached out to her, her kindness towards her and to Madoka. "Yes," she said firmly, nodding. Mami's eyes went wide and watered up, even as she pulled a handkerchief and wiped her eyes, careful not to disturb her makeup.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you so much." She folded her handkerchief and smiled, still emotional. "What about you, Kyouko?"

"Christmas dinner," Kyouko said with a fanged grin, slurping down the last remnants of her candy cane. "Nothing is better than Christmas dinner." She began drooling slightly. Madoka seemed to be afflicted with a fit of the giggles.

"And what about you, Homura?" Mami asked.

Homura glanced over at Madoka, opening her mouth to respond, before she caught the gaze the pink-haired girl was giving her and changed what she was about to say. "Singing."

"Oh?" asked Mami. "You mean Christmas songs?"

"Not exactly," Homura replied.

"Oh, come on," Kyouko said, pulling another candy cane and sticking the end in her mouth. "You can't just leave it at that." Homura sighed.

"I've always loved traditional Christian Christmas songs," Homura said, even as Madoka gave her an encouraging smile. "Any kind – Christmas carols, music like the Messiah, even Christian Rock."

Mami leaned forward, setting down her tea. "How interesting," she said. "Is there any particular reason why?"

"Yes," Homura nodded. "I'm not a Christian. But when a Christian who really believes is singing those songs – they put their heart and soul into it, fill it with their feelings." She took a sip of her drink, composing her thoughts. "I always admired – no, to be honest, I was always a bit envious of the sheer joy and happiness I could tell they were experiencing." Memories of the nuns at her orphanage sprang to the forefront of her mind.

For a second, Kyouko's strong front fell, expressions flickering across her naked face. "Amen," she whispered, before collecting herself and plastering her customary smirk back on her face. "So, Madoka! What do you like about Christmas?"

"I really liked your answer, Ms. Mami," Madoka answered, nodding at the golden-haired girl, "but for me, its something more specific." Madoka smiled her kind, gentle smile, and continued. "I love being with my friends and my family, but I especially love seeing them open their gifts." Her smile widened as her eyes closed. "For me, those gifts always seemed like the physical representation of the bonds of love that friends and family share."

Homura's mind froze for a moment, before she quickly scooted from the bench where she was sitting with Madoka. "Excuse me," she said as she stood up. Mami and Kyouko looked taken aback.

"Homura," Madoka said with a smile. "Just seeing you face to face is enough of a Christmas present for me."

[And don't worry about the other presents you got your friends,] Madoka sent. [I have them with me.]

Homura smiled gently back at her. "Seeing you is gift enough for me too," she said. "But I am getting you a Christmas present anyway."

Kyouko stood up too, somehow managing to clamber over Mami. "Great! I'm coming along with you – Mami, you mind lending me some cash so we can get the new girl some loot?"

Mami sighed. "No food. No, Kyouko, I mean it this time," she said severely, pulling a wad of yen out of her small handbag. Homura hadn't known that Kyouko even knew how to pout.

"Awesome!" said Kyouko, snatching the money from her hand. "Come on, Homura, let's go!"

Homura was reluctant to let Madoka out of her sight, but the pink-haired girl smiled faintly and nodded.

Homura kept one ear on Mami and Madoka as she and Kyouko strolled the mall, window-shopping for an appropriate present. So far, they had just been conversing politely about various trivial subjects, to Homura's relief. Suddenly, Homura and Kyouko both stopped, staring into a particular shop. "This the place, you think?" Kyouko asked, sucking on her candy cane.

"I think so," Homura replied. As one, they turned and entered the store.

The shop was a rarity in the ultra-modern city of Mitakihara, full of dust and knickknacks, curios from across the globe. Dozens of tiny aisles and overflowing bookcases meandered through the store.

"Can I help you?" a baritone voice called out. A swarthy European man slowly made his way out from behind one of the freestanding bookshelves, cane tapping on the floor. Dark eyes peered through the round, wire-frame glasses that were perched on his hooked nose.

"So – are you the clerk?" Kyouko asked, a little off-put by the man.

"I'm the shopkeeper. My name is Dr. Von Himmelsritter. How may I help you this most excellent day?" the man asked, smiling kindly.

"That's a mouthful," the brash girl muttered. "How do you even pronounce that?" The man gave a belly laugh, resuming his slow walk, cane tapping a tattoo on the ground. "Doctor, huh? You a professor or a physician?" Kyouko asked.

"A little bit of both," he said.

"Why are you working in a shop, then?" Kyouko asked as Homura nodded at the man, peeling off to begin her search.

"Oh, it's something to do," he replied, still smiling. "Can I help you find something particular?"

"Not really," she said. "'m just looking for a Christmas gift for a friend."

"Cutting it a little close, aren't you?" he chuckled. "I'm afraid the best I can tell you is to browse around the shop, see what catches your interest." He peered through his coke-bottle lenses, leaning on his cane. "Take a look around. I've never had a customer in my store who didn't find what they needed."

Homura moved around a bookcase, continuing to browse the shelves. In here, she felt disconnected from the entire world. She could barely hear the noises of the crowd, the sound of the music playing outside the store, or even Mami's voice. Straining her hearing, she was barely able to make out Madoka in the distance, giving a sigh of relief.

Then she turned a corner and gasped, almost floating over to one particular shelf. Lying there were the most perfect set of ribbons she had seen in her entire life. They were pure white, done in lace and embroidery, stitched in patterns and pictures so tiny they could barely be seen. Reverently, Homura picked them up, gently holding them in her hands.

Something disturbed her, pricking at the edge of her consciousness.

Madoka. Someone had upset Madoka. Someone had made Madoka sad.

Clutching the ribbons, Homura strode towards the front of the shop, twisting and turning through the narrow aisles. She burst out to the front of the shop, the voices becoming louder but no clearer as she prepared to leave.

And then, she heard someone – no, the shopkeeper – clear their throat.

Somehow, the sound stopped her in her tracks. She turned slowly to face the shopkeeper, Madoka's voice pricking her to move.

"Young lady, you were intending to pay for your items, weren't you?" the elderly doctor enquired.

Homura blushed. "Ah, yes," she said. "I am most sorry," she continued, bowing.

"It's no trouble," the man chuckled. "What were you intending to buy?"

Wordlessly, Homura held out the ribbons, itching to finish and leave so that she could find Madoka.

"Ah," the shopkeeper breathed. "An excellent purchase. Well, young lady," he said, "I'm not sure that you know this, but everything in my shop is for resale. That is, it was given to me by other people to sell for them, and it is they who set the prices. And these ribbons have an unusual price."

"What is it?" Homura asked, impatient.

"You must stay and talk with an elderly gentleman until your companion finishes her shopping," he said.

Homura's eyes widened. She could still hear Madoka's voice, now seemingly at the edge of tears, and this old fool was preventing her from reaching her!

"Something troubles you," the old man said, leaning on his cane as he moved to the other side of the counter.

"Yes," Homura finally replied. She wasn't sure why she was still here.

"What is it that worries you so?" he asked.

"One of my friends is in trouble," Homura replied, bitterness lacing her voice, "and I can't help her."

"If you can't help her," the old man said, pulling up a stool and sitting down, "then the only thing you can do is to trust in God to see her through."

The old, familiar bitterness welled up in her. "Your God doesn't exist. He's a delusion, a comforting lie that only children and fools believe," she bit off angrily.

The old man looked at her with a look of the same incredible wisdom and compassion that she sometimes saw from Madoka. "You have the look of one who has suffered much, child," he said.

"Yes," she replied, suddenly and inexplicably tired.

"And have you not seen the hand of God at work in your suffering?"

"What?" The anger was rising again, the sheer hypocrisy of the man – talking about a loving God, like the nuns who had raised her, and then claiming that the God who supposedly loved her had inflicted such terrible suffering on her and on Madoka. How dare anyone hurt her!

"When the darkness was deepest, when things were incredibly desperate, when you could not see a way forward. At that very moment, didn't Providence act, and open up a way to the light?" the doctor asked. "One which you could never have foreseen?"

Homura's mind flashed to her endless repetitions, the long, hellish maze she had condemned herself to. She shook herself, even as her bitterness drained away. "No," she stated firmly. "We make that way ourselves. She made that way herself, through her sacrifice."

"And yours as well, I'd say," he murmured. "Child, do you really think that God doesn't act through His people?" Homura was briefly taken aback as the old man turned his head. "Ah, here comes your friend right now."

Homura turned around herself as Kyouko strolled from the back, a small wooden box tucked below the bundle of candy canes under her arm. Walking up to the front counter, she set the pale, intricately carved box before the shopkeeper. "Ah," the shopkeeper breathed.

"Hey, old man," Kyouko said. "Y'know, I like this box a lot, but I can't seem to get it open. How's it work?"

Homura took a moment to examine the carvings. On the lid, an indistinct winged figure was set, arms outstretched. Bordering the lid were carvings of roses, their vines climbing down the sides of the box to intertwine and overgrow dozens of different styles of weapons – swords and spears, crossbows and rifles, halberds, axes, and even more exotic weaponry.

"It is not the kind of box that is meant to be opened," the shopkeeper said, turning the box with clever fingers and peering through his thick lenses. "This is an interesting piece, supposedly a depiction of an Angel of Death," he said as he examined the back of the box carefully. Homura realized with a chill that between the rosebuds and blossoms, tiny skulls peeked out, empty eyes and leering mouths forever grinning.

"Cool," said Kyouko, looking a little more closely at her treasure.

"Here we go," the man said, "now watch carefully." The two girls leaned over as he pressed a certain spot at the back of the box, making a single weapon, a bow, pop upwards, still connected to the box by a post. The shopkeeper turned the bow deftly six times. "Remember," he said, glancing up at them, "no more than six turns."

"What are you turning it for?" Kyouko asked.

"This," he said in reply, "is a music box." He pushed the bow inwards, making it snap back into place.

The tinkling sound of music filled the shop, and Homura felt gooseflesh erupt all over her body, ethereal fingers crawling up and down her spine.

It wasn't the same; she knew, that day, she was hearing something her senses only interpreted as music because she had no other way to comprehend it. But it didn't change the resemblance in the slightest.

– Even I – have no reason to despair!

Homura shivered convulsively, prompting concerned looks from Kyouko and the elderly doctor. "Are you alright, miss?"

"Yes," she said, turning to Kyouko. "Get it."

"Yes, I daresay this was made for your friend," the shopkeeper said.

"How much?" the red-haired girl asked.

"With tax, twelve thousand, eighty-three yen," the man said, turning to the ancient-looking register. "How would you like to pay for your purchase?"

"Bit steep," Kyouko whistled, pulling two wads of cash from her pockets and counting the bills. She looked up at Homura. "You have any cash on you?"

Homura felt in her pocket, then stilled abruptly. "I seem to have forgotten my wallet at home," she said.

Kyouko grinned. "Meh, it's alright. You've been a bit out of it today." She glanced up at the shopkeeper. "Would you take eleven thousand, nine hundred?"

"All prices are final," the man said regretfully.

"Damn," she muttered. "I really liked it too."

"Perhaps you could check the coin tray?" The shopkeeper gestured to the counter.

Homura blinked, looking closer. Sitting next to the register was the statue of a man in armor, sword in hand. His blade was forever poised halfway through bisecting a cloak, and leaning against the legs of the statue was a small card. Take a coin, leave a coin was printed on it in neat handwriting. Kyouko scraped the coins on the counter with a swipe of her hand, a single digit separating and counting the small discs of metal.

"Well, I'll be," she muttered. "Huh. One-hundred eighty-three yen."

"Exactly enough," the man said, smiling. "Would you two like your purchases wrapped? Complimentary of the house, of course." Homura and Kyouko nodded.

The shopkeeper pulled a roll of wrapping paper from the counter, printed with gothic lettering that spelled IN TERRA PAX HOMINIBVS BONÆ VOLVNTATIS. He began to hum merrily as his hands nimbly folded and cut.

Homura glanced to the side, noting that Kyouko looked torn for some reason, eyes darting back and forth. "Ah, damn it," she finally muttered, pulling her bundle of candy canes from under her arm. Pulling a single candy cane loose, she gazed at it mournfully, tucking it in her jacket pocket. Then she placed her bundle of candy canes next to the register, pulling four loose and arranging them carefully against the statue of the soldier, with their ends in the coin tray. She stepped back, her expression downcast.

"God will bless you for your charity, Ms. Sakura," the shopkeeper beamed. "Here are your purchases."

"Thanks," the two girls spoke in unison.

"Come again anytime!" the shopkeeper called after them as they left the cramped confines of the store.

The two emerged into the mall. On the edge of her mind, Homura could hear a vague murmur of voices as Kyouko contacted Mami telepathically. "This way," the redhead said, turning left.

Homura caught Kyouko's arm. "Kyouko?"

"Yeah?" the redhead asked.

"Thank you," Homura said, releasing her.

"No problem," Kyouko replied.

Homura pushed forward, her worries about Madoka springing to the forefront of her mind. Finally, she emerged from the crowd. Madoka was sitting on a bench there with Mami, drying her eyes with Mami's handkerchief as the yellow-haired girl gave her a motherly hug. "Madoka," murmured Homura sadly.

The pink-haired girl looked up, her face lighting up as she caught sight of Homura. She stood, catching Homura in a hug and whispering in her ear. "It's ok," she said, then more loudly, "So, did you find anything good?"

"Yeah," Kyouko butted in. "The shopkeeper was a weird old man, but he had lots of neat stuff." Kyouko continued to suck on her candy cane as Madoka giggled.

"Well," said Mami, glancing at one of the many electronic clocks littering the mall, "it's almost two o'clock. About time to start Christmas Dinner, wouldn't you say?"

"YES," Kyouko said in an overly-serious tone. "I won't let anyone get in the way of Mami's wonderful cooking!" The four girls began to make their way out of the mall, chattering brightly.

"-----" Something pricked at the edge of Homura's hearing, and she slowed.

"What is it, Homura?" Mami asked, concerned.

"Madoka!" a high-pitched voice came from somewhere in the crowd. Homura stiffened and turned, scanning the area. Her eyes zeroed in – a disturbance, making its way through the crowd, zigging and zagging but inevitably tearing its way toward them.

"Madoka, get behind me," she snapped.

"What is it, Homura?" the pink-haired girl asked, placing her hands on Homura's shoulders. Homura remained taut, ready for anything.

A tiny form burst from the crowd, and Homura reacted on instinct, intercepting it with all the skill of her long practice, scooping it into her arms. "Madoka!" The pink-haired girl gasped.

Brown eyes peered from under a shock of brown hair as the child in her arms gave Homura a gap-toothed grin before clambering higher and peeking over a shoulder. He squealed happily. "Madoka! Madoka! Madoka!"

"Tatsuya," Madoka breathed, and suddenly Homura felt another smile growing on her face as her eyes watered. Turning, she hefted the three-year-old, placing him in the pink-haired girl's arms. A chubby fist reached out to grasp a lock of hair.

"Madoka!" Tatsuya celebrated, waving his arms.

"Oh, Tatsuya," Madoka murmured as she enveloped him in a desperate hug.







AN: Is the way I'm inserting the honorifics coming across ok? Does it seem natural?

AN2: Ah, man, the things that it would be nice to be able to include in the story but there's no real way of doing so ;_;

Worldbuilding Ahoy!

Regarding Telepathy – in this universe, telepathy between Magical Girls can be public or private. Public goes to all MGs and potentials in range, and requires a Kyubey. Private telepathy can be initiated only from one Magical Girl to another Magical Girl or set of Magical Girls, and does not go through a Kyubey. It cannot work on Potentials, unless telepathy is a part of an MGs' specific talent. MGs not in on the conversation can tell that someone is speaking, but not what they're saying, and the same goes for the Incubators. Most MGs do not know the rules that govern their telepathy.

Madoka, because of her exalted position, 'hears' all telepathy, public and private, because she is constantly connected to every Magical Girl. In addition, when she 'sends' to someone or someone 'sends' to her, no-one can hear what they are saying, or even that anything is being said at all. So from Mami and Kyouko's perspective, someone, probably Homura, included Madoka in that first telepathic conversation (they don't know that private telepathy doesn't work on potentials), and Madoka and Homura, from what they can tell, have not been talking since (they do know that private telepathy produces 'noise').

Hopefully this will help to clear up any confusion.

 

[UrielAngeli]

Life and Health

"Tatsuya!".

"Tatsuya!" a tenor voice called again from further in the mall. Madoka stirred, lifting her head from where it was buried in the small boy's hair.

"Come on, little Tatsuya. Let's find your papa," Madoka smiled at the toddler.

"Papa! Yes, Papa!" Tatsuya laughed back.

Madoka glided forward, Homura and the others inevitably drawn in her wake. The milling crowd swirled about the knot of girls.

"Papa!" the small boy exclaimed as the crowd parted to reveal a brown-haired man. "Look, Madoka!"

"Thank heavens," he gasped as he pulled a cellphone from his pocket, thumb stabbing over the touchscreen. "Honey, I found him…over by the north entrance." He paused for a moment. "Love you." He ended the call, reaching out for the toddler. "Thank you so much for finding my son, girls. Come here, Tatsuya," he scolded. "What were you thinking?"

The four didn't get a chance to reply as Tatsuya snuggled further into the pink-haired girl's arms. "No, papa! Look, Madoka! Madoka!" he said.

"Tatsuya!" a woman's voice called, a short distance away.

"Over here, honey!" the man replied, raising his voice over the ever-present chatter of the horde of shoppers.

"Tatsuya!" A purple-haired woman darted from the crowd, reaching out towards the tiny child. "How could you scare us like that?"

"Mama, Papa! Look, Madoka!" Tatsuya clung like a limpet to Madoka, his tone becoming more and more confused.

"Let go of the nice girl, Tatsuya," his mother commanded as the brown-haired boy shook his tiny head vehemently, burrowing into Madoka's shoulder. "Oh, I'm so sorry about this, girls," she said. Homura glanced at Mami and Kyouko, noting their identical expressions of confusion. "He's normally so well behaved."

"It's perfectly fine, ma'am," Mami said, bringing her small smile to bear. "There's nothing urgent going on at the moment, anyway."

"Mama! Papa! Why aren't you hugging Madoka?" the little boy demanded.

"This isn't the time or place to be playing around, little man," his father said gently. "Now let's go home so that we can have a nice Christmas."

Tatsuya's brown eyes began watering, even as he demanded, his voice on the edge of tears. "Mama! Papa! Madoka! Madoka!"

"That's enough, Tatsuya. Let's go," the purple-haired woman commanded, attempting to pry him from Madoka's arms. Madoka gave her a small, apologetic smile, her own eyes watering up.

Tatsuya burst into wails of inconsolable grief, his shouts of "No, Madoka!" filling the entire mall. His tiny arms and legs latched onto the pink-haired girl as he clung to her like a limpet. The people swirling around them continued to politely ignore the scene. Madoka began to rock Tatsuya gently in her arms, singing to him in a soft, soothing voice.

"Ms. Junko," Homura finally spoke up.

The purple-haired woman looked startled for a moment. "Ah! Akemi Homura, right? I almost didn't recognize you with the glasses," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," Homura replied. "Why don't we move this someplace else?" she said, glancing at Mami and Kyouko.

"We don't mind," Mami said graciously.

The four of them drifted over into a nearby side passage, where they weren't surrounded by the throng of shoppers. Tatsuya had quieted somewhat, but his sobs and cries still echoed through the corridor alongside the sweet sound of Madoka's voice, softly singing a lullaby. The brown-haired man hovered worriedly around the two, torn with uncertainty.

"Why don't you introduce your friends to me, Ms. Homura?" Junko asked.

"Yes. This is Tomoe Mami," she said, gesturing at the yellow-haired girl, "and this is Sakura Kyouko."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Mami said, bowing.

"Yeah, pleasure," Kyouko echoed, lounging against the wall.

"I am pleased to meet you as well," Junko said, then bowed formally. "My deepest apologies for this incident."

"It's no problem. Not like we have much else to be doing," Kyouko waved it off.

"Thank you for your understanding. My name is Kaname Junko, and my husband Tomohisa," Junko said.

"Kaname?" asked Kyouko. "Like Madoka over there?" she said, gesturing to the pink-haired girl.

"Madoka? My son's imaginary friend?" Junko asked, confused.

"No," murmured Mami pensively. "Kaname Madoka, the girl holding your son."

Junko gave her a startled glance. "What a strange coincidence." She paused a moment, thinking deeply. "I wonder if we're related?"

"Don't know," Kyouko replied, gazing thoughtfully at the pink haired girl. "Homura? She's your friend," the underdressed girl prompted.

Homura considered carefully. "…Madoka lost her entire family," she replied in a final tone of voice, firmly shutting down that line of inquiry. In the silence, Madoka's lullaby drew to a close, humming gently up and down the black-and-white tiles of the corridor. Tatsuya broke into desperate hiccups and brief sobs.

"I do hope I'm not keeping the rest of you from your families. Do you need to call anyone?" Junko broke the silence with a falsely cheerful question.

"Nah," Kyouko drawled. "That won't be a problem."

"I wouldn't want anyone to be worried about you, especially at Christmas," Junko replied firmly.

"Lady, this is the orphan's club here," Kyouko snorted at Junko's taken-aback look, pointedly ignoring her yellow-haired companion's sharp glance. "Mami's family are all dead – car accident – my dad didn't have the decency to off himself before he killed mom and sis rather than after, and…you've never actually told us what happened to your parents, have you, Homura?"

"Abandoned at the orphanage as a baby," Homura said, to Junko's increasingly fixed false-cheerful expression. The silence that followed was, if anything, even more oppressive. Mami was actually frowning at Kyouko, clear disapproval radiating from every pore.

Tatsuya's tiny voice finally broke the silence, almost too quietly to be heard. "Why don't mama and papa love you anymore, Madoka?" the toddler hiccupped.

"Shh, shh. It's alright, Tatsuya. It's not their fault," Madoka spoke quietly, quick tears falling from her cheeks.

"Will they stop loving me, too?" Tatsuya asked, speaking in that tone of inconsolable sorrow that only little children can experience. Junko looked like she had been slapped, while Tomohisa looked like you could knock him over with a feather. Out of the corner of her vision, Homura could see Kyouko's eyes narrowed in laser-like focus.

"No, no, Tatsuya. Don't you ever think that. They will never stop loving you, just as I will never stop loving you," she whispered. Homura could see the others straining to hear. Tatsuya snuggled deeper into Madoka's arms, eyes and nose dripping as she dried his face with a handkerchief, and a deep quiet descended on the passage.

"I don't think you could separate the two of them with a crowbar," Junko muttered, then moved decisively as she came to some decision. "Since Tatsuya seems so taken with Madoka over here, and since you don't have anything else to do today, why don't you come over to our home for Christmas?"

"Honey," Tomohisa began, before the two of them exchanged a long look in that practiced manner of couples everywhere even as Madoka drifted towards the group, cradling Tatsuya. "We would be happy to have all four of you to visit today, and for dinner," he eventually replied, a gentle smile gracing his expression.

The four of them glanced at each other. "We wouldn't want to impose…" Mami began.

"It's no trouble at all," Junko said brightly. "In fact, I think we'd have far more trouble getting little Tatsuya away from you." They all laughed politely.

"That sounds wonderful, then," Mami replied, smiling. "In return, why don't we help out with the supplies for Christmas dinner – and the preparation, of course?"

"Oh?" Tomohisa asked. "Were you planning on making a Christmas dinner for yourselves, then? That's enterprising of you young ladies." He paused, thinking. "It would be helpful to have some more ingredients for tonight. Cooking for seven's an awful lot different than cooking for three."

"How does a thirteen-kilo* turkey sound, Mr. Kaname?" Mami asked, her eyes sparkling.

"Thirteen kilos?" he stammered, "were you planning on living off that for a month?"

"No, we were planning on feeding it to Kyouko," Homura replied dryly.

The Kanames glanced at Kyouko's toned, athletically-thin frame. The black-haired girl smirked right back at them. Homura could practically taste their skepticism.

"Kyouko has a prodigious appetite," Mami said delicately.

Homura snorted. "Kyouko has two hollow legs and a black hole for a stomach. She can out-eat any three grown men – no, any three rikishi." Madoka was suddenly overcome by a fit of the giggles.

"Really?" Tatsuya's wide eyes seemed to get even wider.

"You bet, squirt," Kyouko smirked back at him, pushing off the wall to ruffle his hair. Tatsuya looked as if he'd found himself a new hero.

"It's settled, then," Junko said happily.

"Thank you so much for your hospitality," Mami said, a wide smile on her face.

"Right. Mami, how 'bout you take Madoka and go with the Kanames, here," Kyouko said, smiling. "Homura 'n' I'll run back to the flat and grab our stuff."

Homura opened her mouth to protest – separate from Madoka, now? But Madoka caught her eyes; the pink-haired girl's thoughts on the matter were plain as day. "I can help carry the food, and direct you back to the Kaname residence," Homura replied evenly as she glanced away from Madoka's face. The pink-haired girl nodded.

Kyouko caught Homura's arm. "See you guys in a few!" she shouted as she dragged Homura out of a service entrance.

The cold hit Homura, sharpening her senses. From the quickly closing door behind her, she could hear Kaname Junko's voice: "What a lively young lady!"

Around her, the streets had been plowed and salted by the Mitakihara city authorities. Where the snow had been pristine and clean that morning, now it was marred by streaks and rivulets of brown and black, trampled by tires and the soles of countless winter boots. Homura glanced out of the corner of her eye at Kyouko; she was, for once, silent, in deep thought. As they turned the block, Homura raised one eyebrow, breaking the still air. "Walk, or roof-hop?"

"Too many people," Kyouko grunted, still looking pensive. "Stick to the ground today." Homura acknowledged her with a nod, sinking back into her own thoughts, trying to regain her equilibrium. She had felt more this Christmas, both happiness and sorrow, than she had in the entirety of seven months; she was reeling from it. Homura released her soul gem briefly, eyeing it; despite the ups and downs of the day, it was still nearly clean. With a flick of her wrist, it wrapped back around her finger in a flash of purple light. The two girls continued to hike through the manmade canyons, stepping over and through the drifts of snow underneath the gradually clearing sky.

Kyouko's voice finally broke the silence as they approached Mami's flat. "And I thought I screwed up my family with my wish," she said.

Homura hung her head, hiding her eyes behind her fringe. "…I don't know what you're talking about." Kyouko stopped suddenly, seizing her arm.

"Cut the crap, Homura," she said. "I don't know if Mami picked up on it, but I did. What the hell did Madoka do to her family? That was them there, right? How come they don't remember her?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Homura said, yanking her arm from Kyouko's grasp and walking away. To her shame, she saw the tears falling from her face, melting tiny holes in the ice and snow.

"A perfect family. A perfect life. Just how stupid and selfish was your friend to throw away all that?" called Kyouko.

Homura knew Kyouko well; she even respected her, more than any other living person. Somewhere, deep inside her, Homura knew that Kyouko was fishing for a reaction, that she didn't really mean what she was saying.

But that didn't matter.

Blinding white wings of light burst from her back as she whirled. Kyouko never even managed to transform before she hit the concrete wall with a bone-jarring thud. A delicate hand pinned her to Mami's apartment building by her throat, fingers digging holes into the concrete, her feet dangling off the ground. Homura's hand tightened and trembled as Kyouko choked; behind her, the cloud snow kicked up by her passage began drifting gently to the ground. Staring into the other girl's eyes, Homura saw the naked fear and panic dancing through them. Homura dropped her gaze from Kyouko's face, releasing her to drop to the snowdrift. Shame caused her hands to tremble and her tears to flow more quickly.

Homura's wings faded as she stepped back, turning. Kyouko laid on the ground, coughing and gasping for breath through her bruised throat. "…If you ever talk badly about Madoka or her sacrifice again, I will kill you," Homura promised, her voice harsh. She would, too; and she could tell that Kyouko knew it. As she began walking again, the other girl staggered up, leaning against the wall, before stumbling forwards.

"Homura. Damn it, Homura," Kyouko said, forcing the words through her injured throat as she seized the black-haired girl's arm again, preventing her from ascending the steps. Homura finally paused, listening to Kyouko. "…I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," she finally muttered. "I can tell I crossed some sort of line. But damn it, how am I supposed to know where the line is if you won't tell me anything?"

"…I'm sorry as well," Homura finally replied, grasping her arm and gently helping Kyouko up the stairs. "Come on."

The two of them entered Mami's apartment in silence, Kyouko grabbing the turkey and several wrapped parcels while Homura grabbed the rest of the partially prepared food from the pantry and fridge, Kyouko's movements becoming more certain as she recovered. The two exited the apartment, and in one synchronized movement hurdled the railing as the door clicked shut behind them, dropping to the ground. Rising from where they had landed in identical crouches, the two strode into the bitter cold.

As they cut through the industrial district, moving towards the subdivisions of the city, Kyouko finally broke the silence. "Look. Can you at least tell me why she did whatever she did? What exactly did you mean by 'her sacrifice'?"

Homura bowed her head again, this time in equal sorrow and thought. "Kaname Madoka is the single most selfless person I have ever or will ever know," she began, her voice quiet. "She found a way to become Hope to countless millions."

All those who believed in hope as magical girls – I don't want to see them cry. I want them to be smiling to the very end.

If any rule or law stands in the way of that, I will destroy it. I will rewrite it.

That is my prayer. That is my wish. Now! Grant my wish, INCUBATOR!

"But to accomplish that," Homura continued, "to fulfill her wish, she had to lose everything. Even, the memories of who she was. The memories of Sayaka Miki, her childhood friend. Mami's memories. Your memories. Her family's memories. You ask how she could throw away the love of her family, Sakura Kyouko? She killed that love herself. She sacrificed it on the altar of our salvation – yours, mine, everyone's!" her voice rising and rising until she was shouting her grief to the world. For the second time that day, Kyouko looked completely flabbergasted. Exhausted, Homura continued in a low voice, fingernails drawing blood from the palms of her hands. "The only one left to remember is me. What a terrible joke," she finished bitterly.

Kyouko touched her arm gently. "Hey. Homura," she said. "She called you her best friend, right? Maybe you're the one person in all the world she wants to remember her."

"How? How can she still love me when I am responsible for her sacrifice in the first place?" Homura wailed. She sank to her knees in the snow.

"oh. Oh." From the corner of her watering eye, Homura could see the turkey and the parcels being softly lowered to the snow, before she was surrounded by surprisingly gentle arms.

"We always manage to hurt the ones we love most, don't we?" Kyouko finally whispered as Homura finally brought her sobbing under control. "Now you listen here, Homura, and I'll tell you what I told my other sister," the redhead said. "The past is gone and done. Regretting what's happened is worse than useless, just like worrying about the future. What matters is the present, and what you choose to do with it. And in the present," Kyouko continued gently, "what I see is that you care for her just as deeply as she cares for you.

"You hurt each other in the past – and don't tell me you didn't suffer because of her," she commanded sternly as Homura listened quietly, tears falling more slowly, "but that doesn't matter. All that counts is that you two are together now, and want to do the right thing by each other. Right?"

"yes," Homura finally replied, managing a small smile for the redhead.

"Alright, come on," Kyouko said, helping Homura to her feet. "We'll be late to the Kaname's, and I know you don't want that," she grinned. Homura managed a watery smile back at her. The two picked up the fallen goods, quickly coming to the tree-lined border of the suburbs. "I'll still want the whole story – after Christmas," Kyouko said as they approached the Kaname residence, flashing Homura a grin, and she slowly nodded back. Homura could hear the murmur of happy conversation coming from inside the house.

Balancing the turkey on one shoulder, bag of gifts over the other, Kyouko managed to knock at the door firmly. "I'll get it!" Madoka's voice called from inside the house. The door burst open, revealing the petite frame of Madoka, Tatsuya peering from around her legs. Eyes overflowing with emotion, she gave a surprised Kyouko a friendly peck on the cheek. "Thank you for being such a good friend to Homura," she whispered, even as the bruising around Kyouko's neck faded and disappeared in a gentle pink glow.

"No problem," Kyouko managed to get out. Her eyes flickered back and forth as Madoka watched her expectantly. "Uh, I'll give you two a moment," she said. Madoka beamed at her. Hefting the colossal turkey with a grin she disappeared into the house and called out, "Hey, guys! Guess what I have here!"

"Homura." The black-haired girl's eyes were downcast, until once again she felt a gentle hand on her cheek, guiding her face and vision upwards. "As always, you act out of love."

"I'll do better next time," Homura finally replied.

"I know you will. I trust you," Madoka smiled at her. "Come in – let's celebrate Christmas."

=======

At long last, the feast was over. Tomohisa, Mami, and Madoka (and, by extension, Homura) had rotated through the kitchen all day, cooking up a storm in a cloud of cheerful chatter. The dinner they produced had come close to collapsing the dining room table under its weight.

*BUURRP*

"'Scuse me," Kyouko smirked languidly. Somehow, the lanky girl had managed to put away more food than all the rest of them combined. Trophies of her victory lay piled about her like some ancient barbarian display as she leaned back in her chair. Homura could see a gigantic grin on Madoka's face, and childish giggling coming from where Tatsuya had been sitting in her lap during the meal.

"You know, honey, that pile of turkey bones somehow reminds me of one of those – what are they called – oh, elephant graveyards," Tomohisa smiled from his spot at the head of the table.

Junko peered at the plates piled near Kyouko, tilting her head. "I think you might be right, dear," she said. Mami began to hide her mouth behind her napkin.

*burp*

Heads swiveled towards Madoka even as a tiny head peeked above the table. "'Scuseme!" he pronounced proudly, beaming.

Mami's smile grew behind her napkin. "Now, Tatsuya, that wasn't a very appropriate thing to do," she scolded gently, her wide smile taking any sting out of the words. "If you keep doing things like that, you'll grow up to be a delinquent like Kyouko here. We wouldn't want that, would we?"

The toddler considered her words solemnly for a moment. "Yes!" he finally proclaimed in utmost sincerity.

Madoka lost the battle to control her laughter, and even Homura was sporting a huge grin.

"You're not half bad, squirt," Kyouko laughed from the foot of the table, leaning to the side to ruffle Tatsuya's hair again. The little boy beamed at her, smiling his gap-toothed smile from where Madoka was holding him. "Tell you what. Why don't I teach you how to belch properly?" she fake-whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

"Maybe later, Kyouko, if his mama and papa agree," Madoka smiled gently. "Right now, I think it's time for us to exchange gifts," her smile grew even as she became more solemn. "I think we might even have something for our hosts – right, Homura?" While their attention turned to the black-haired girl, Madoka winked at her.

"Ah – yes, of course," Homura said.

"Let's go into the living room, then," Junko suggested, and thus, with much scraping of chairs and creaking of floorboards, they did.

The living room sported several Christmas decorations – some fake pine boughs, a few bells and Santa hats, and, of course, the focus of the room – a tiny plastic Christmas tree, not three feet high but festooned with lights and ornaments. Underneath and around the boughs of the tree lay about a dozen parcels of various shapes and sizes, covered in brightly decorated paper. The seven took their seats, Junko and Tomohisa snuggled together on the couch, Mami on an armchair, the other four gathered around the tree.

"Hosts first, do you think?" Madoka murmured to Kyouko, who nodded, casting about the pile and extracting three presents one after the other. The girl straightened, before bowing and handing the presents one after the other to Junko, Tomohisa, and Tatsuya. "Thank you so much for having us in your home. I think that I can speak for all of us when I say that it felt like a family Christmas again." The other three girls nodded, smiling brightly.

Junko looked like she was about to cry, but marshalled herself. "Thank you so much – you really didn't need to."

"But we wanted to," Madoka replied. "Isn't that the point of Christmas? Gifts, freely given out of love?" Junko and Tomohisa smiled at her, while little Tatsuya's eyes wavered between her and his present, torn. "Go ahead, Tatsuya," Madoka smiled at him. Tatsuya dove in at once, tearing off the wrapping in long strips to reveal…something very like a book. A diary, maybe?

"Oh, my. That looks like it must have been expensive," Junko said, her tone indecipherable. It did, too; it was primarily white in color, its cover and binding clearly of carved wood – wood that had been stained, or painted, perhaps? Despite the red and white roses that crawled up and down the binding and framed the cover, it was clearly masculine in design, and it was secured firmly by a wooden clasp. For some reason, the style looked familiar to Homura. Tatsuya managed to open the clasp in clumsy fingers, flopping the front cover open to reveal a case, built into the cover. Within were writing instruments – Homura recognized a dozen wooden pencils with different colored leads and a fountain pen among the more exotic fare – all firmly secured in place.

"I didn't pay a cent for it," Madoka giggled as they stared openmouthed at her present. "I was fortunate enough to be able to help out the carpenter who made it, and he gave it to me to use for Christmas." She smiled at them. "Don't worry about letting him play with it, the journal is nearly indestructible, and new paper is very easy to add."

"It's a wonderful gift. Thank you very much," Tomohisa said, flabbergasted. Trading a look with Junko, the two moved to open their own gifts. "Oh, my. How old is this?"

"It's a Christmas cookbook, late eighteenth century," Madoka replied, smiling. "I thought you'd appreciate it."

"Take a look at this Junko. Junko?" Tomohisa asked his wife, who looked shocked.

Junko broke out of her reverie, pulling a bottle of spirits out of her wrapping with trembling hands. "This is Chartreuse. Real Chartreuse, from right after World War II. It's over seventy-five years old. How could you have gotten ahold of this?"

"A magician never reveals her secrets," Madoka said, her smile growing wider as she tapped her nose. "You might say I got it for a song."

[Literally,] she whispered to Homura.

"I think we had better put these away, quickly," Junko said. "Madoka, why don't you help me put them up?" Tomohisa handed over his cookbook with visible reluctance, and the two moved into the other room, Madoka glancing at Homura as she moved to get up. Homura sank back down, folding her legs under her.

"Speaking of cooking, Mr. Kaname, I noticed that you didn't use soy sauce…" Mami began, pouring two cups of tea as the two left the room.

"Madoka. These were very expensive gifts," Junko began, sotto voce. Homura ignored the conversation around her, focusing her hearing on Madoka.

"I know," Madoka said.

"Then, why did you…"

"No, I know. I understand; you're cautious, and worried; you want to know how it is your son knows me, why I would do something like this for you, when I seem to you to be a stranger," Madoka said. Homura could picture her face, her quiet smile in her mind's eye. The sounds from the other room trailed off, the two lapsing into silence.

[Homura? Will you do this for me, after?]

Homura understood what Madoka desired of her, her mind flashing back to her education at the orphanage. And hospitality do not forget; for by this some, being not aware of it, have entertained angels. She shook her head, clearing it of extraneous thoughts. [I will tell them your story; I will speak of your sacrifice to them.]

And my failure, she added in her head.

[Thank you,] Madoka sent to her, touching her mind with her gratitude. [Never a failure, remember?] she murmured as she ended the telepathy.

"After Christmas," she said to her mother, although her mother knew her not. "After Christmas you will be told everything. I promise."

"…Alright," Junko finally replied, her tone softening. "I do expect to hear the whole story, young lady," she said. The two moved away from the kitchen, quickly passing through the doorway to the living room. "That's another thing. I hope you're not using your mysterious sources to obtain alcohol for yourself and your friends," she said, half-teasingly. "You're too young to start drinking." Kyouko looked up from the floor, where she had been following Mami and Tomohisa's conversation.

"I'm never going to be able to drink, unfortunately," Madoka said. "You see, I made a promise to my mother a long time ago that I would have my very first drink with her on my 21st birthday, in celebration of being an adult. I won't ever be able to do that, now, and it just wouldn't be right to break my promise," she said, giving a sad smile. Kyouko's eyes widened, flashing back and forth between the pink and purple-haired women, before she turned away quickly and scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeve.

"Okay!" said Kyouko, overly-cheerfully, grabbing a few packages and tossing them. "Mami, you next!"

The yellow-haired girl's eyes widened; her teacup went flying into the air as her left hand flashed to intercept all three gifts, collecting them on her palm – even as awkward and heavy as they were. Her right still grasping the saucer, she lunged, precariously balancing her gifts in one hand as her other flickered out almost too quickly to see to catch the teacup perfectly in its saucer. Not a drop was spilled.

"Woah…" Tatsuya clapped at the show.

Mami glared briefly at Kyouko, before setting her packages in her lap and taking a sip of her tea. She began to run damage control. "There were far better ways for you to persuade me to demonstrate my…party trick," she said sternly. Kyouko only gave her a fanged grin in reply.

Mami set her tea on the end table, picking up the smallest package in her hand. Carefully undoing the tape, she unfolded the wrapping paper from the small jewelry box inside. She opened it, then gasped. Nimble fingers pulled a delicate gold pendant from inside. "Ms. Kaname – how –" she began, then composed herself. "This looks just like something my mother used to wear. How ever did you find it?"

Madoka laughed quietly. "I'm afraid I didn't get either your present or Kyouko's. They're from somebody else – I just offered to pass them along when I realized I'd be here for Christmas," she said with a smile on her face.

Mami's eyes were glued to the pendant. "Who would give me something like this, though?"

"After Christmas," Madoka grinned, touching her nose again.

Mami carefully folded the pendant's chain, laying it inside the jewelry box. Closing the box, she set it to the side reluctantly. Next, she picked up the medium-size package, again careful not to tear the wrapping paper as she revealed a simple cardboard box. She lifted the lid, peeking inside as she peered through the tissue paper. Suddenly she broke into a fit of the giggles. "Kyouko," she finally managed to say, "It seems that we've both had the same idea."

Kyouko's grin broadened. "You mean –"

"Yes. I suppose you'll want to open my present at home, then?" Mami asked.

"It is a bit embarrassing," the redhead allowed. Replacing the lid, Mami set the box to the side on the floor, leaving her with one package.

"Oh, my," Mami finally spoke after uncovering the wooden box. "What is the box meant to store?" she asked. Homura merely smiled and nodded at the container. Mami opened it to reveal –

"Tea!" She was atypically excited; her eyes flashed back and forth as she counted. "Twenty-four different varieties of tea! What a wonderful gift!"

"You can keep ordering the leaves and preparations after they run out," said Homura. "There's a paper inside the box."

Mami smiled gently. "Thank you so much, Ms. Akemi." She looked around. "Alright – Kyouko, I think it's your turn."

"Awesome!" the redhead cheered, sitting up and leaning over to snag three presents from under the tree. One was a medium-size box – Kyouko checked the label, then set it to the side. The other two were obviously a gift basket and a letter. She pulled her legs up underneath her, dithering for a moment before settling on the gift basket. With greedy hands she tore and ripped at the wrapping paper, eventually revealing a wicker basket filled with yellow-gold apples that seemed to glow, reflecting the lights overhead. Two pieces of paper were stuck in the basket. Kyouko took one of the apples, crunching into it as she snatched the first note. As she took the first bite, she paused, the paper temporarily forgotten. Suddenly, the apple seemed to disappear into Kyouko almost faster than one could see, leaving only a tiny core. Licking her fingers, Kyouko took a single longing look at the basket before unfolding the sheet in her hand.

"Huh," she said, reading the note. "I'll personally apologize to you one day, but for now I wanted you to have these. I will be waiting until we meet again. May you have a joyful Christmas. No signature," she read from the first slip of paper. Her brow furrowing, she tucked it into her jacket's inside pocket and grabbed the second. "The past –" she began to read, before she suddenly stopped, eyes flickering over the note. Rereading it two or three times, she eventually smoothed her expression deliberately, folding the note and placing it next to the first inside her jacket. "Sorry, it's just personal," she finally said. "It's something I used to say to…my sister." Mutters of acknowledgement swept through the room, and Homura's eyes flickered over to Madoka. The pink-haired girl nodded at her.

Kyouko finally looked at Madoka, resigned. "Let me guess – after Christmas, right?" she finally grinned out. Madoka beamed right back at her.

Grabbing the envelope, Kyouko slit open the top with one fingernail. Homura thought she saw a glimpse of one red-and-iron spearhead, but it disappeared too quickly for her to be sure. The redheaded girl removed the papers from the plain manila envelope, beginning to read. Her eyes widened, and her reading slowed, then stopped. The papers fell out of her hand, and her mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "You found them?" she finally said, voice hoarse.

Homura nodded. "They've been reinterred at Calvary Cemetery," she began, only for Kyouko to tackle her into a hug. Homura went stiff, awkwardly bringing bending her arms at the elbows to pat the girl on her back.

Kyouko finally released her, scrubbing her eyes on her sleeve again. "Thanks," she finally said, sitting back. "Thank you so much." She paused. "How did you manage to do it? It's damn expensive burying anyone the first time, much less getting them…" she swallowed. "Hell, the few times I could bring myself to…well, they wouldn't let me do anything 'cos' I'm a 'minor'," she said, fingers making air quotes.

"You know how it is," Homura shrugged. "A little bit of bribery, some blackmail and forgery, and of course a dash of…er…um…hocus-pocus? Ah, that is, hypothetically speaking, of course?" Her ears burning, Homura finally remembered that she was, in fact, in front of an audience. Tomohisa looked like he was caught between horror and intrigue, while Junko merely looked amused. Homura was struck by how similar she and Madoka looked at that moment.

"I'm sure we're all very glad that your ancestors are properly buried. Right, honey?" Junko prompted.

"Er, of course, dear. Very pious of you and your friends," Tomohisa replied.

Homura almost sighed in relief, but managed to control herself. She did crack a small smile, however – finally, her hard-won self-control was coming back to her.

"Alright!" Kyouko said eagerly. Homura noticed with slight surprise that she had managed to recover three more presents from under the tree, leaving only two – both in the Latin-inscribed wrapping paper the Doctor had given to them earlier that day. The black-haired girl leaned forward, taking the gifts from the redhead – an envelope, a medium-sized box, and a smaller box, one somewhat larger than a jewelry case.

Homura was holding her first Christmas presents in more than two decades. Homura was holding a Christmas present from Madoka.

"Open mine first," Kyouko's voice broke into her thoughts as the redhead flashed a fanged grin. "Take a peek, but you may not want to open it here. After all, we don't want just anyone knowing all about our…nighttime activities," she finished, intoning the words suggestively.

"Kyouko!" Mami exclaimed, scandalized.

"Oh, don't act so innocent, Mami. It's not like you're not right there with the two of us, getting all worked up and sweaty –" Kyouko snickered, while Junko and Tomohisa tried to fight off their laughter.

"Enough, Kyouko! Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Tomohisa, Ms. Junko. It's not at all what you think it is," the blond began, flustered.

"It's alright, Mami," Tomohisa replied with a sympathetic smile. "Some girls just never grow out of the phase where they have to go around stirring up trouble."

"What's that, honey?" Junko asked in a saccharine tone. "Did I just hear you volunteer to sleep on the couch tonight?"

"Of course not," Tomohisa laughed, flashing a smile at his wife, "that rebellious streak was why I fell in love with you after all." He planted a kiss on a mollified Junko's cheek.

Homura quickly peeled the wrapping back to reveal a nondescript cardboard box. Tipping it towards her, she lifted the lid to peer inside. There was no tissue paper – just a sleek, gunmetal-grey shape and a box labelled "THE BULLET" in Latin lettering.

Homura felt a wide grin splitting her face as she let one finger trail along the barrel. "I always have been fond of the Eagle; precision and lethality," she muttered, before deliberately closing the box and setting it to the side. "However did you find one? I know how rare they are in Japan."

"You know how it is," Kyouko parroted back at her, wicked smile on her face. "A little of this here, a little – hocus-pocus, you called it – there? It was easy."

"Thank you, Kyouko," Homura said. "I'll be using it as often as I can." Homura picked up the envelope next, carefully undoing the manila envelope. Taking out the papers concealed inside, she saw several pictures of a small, one-story home. In the background, she saw the shadows and chimneys of the industrial district.

"Ms. Akemi," Mami said, setting down her teacup. "We've been thinking. Since Ms. Sakura moved in with me, my flat has gotten rather small, and – well, we came across a condemned property next to the industrial district." She paused for a moment, placing her hands in her lap. "We've been working on it for a while in our spare time. Admittedly, Ms. Sakura has been doing most of the work so far."

"Yep! I have a hell of a lot more free time to do stuff with, though," the redhead replied, shrugging.

"Ms. Akemi – no, Homura. We'd like it if you moved in with us, come the new year," Mami said.

For a moment, Homura sat there, stunned. They wanted her to move in with them? Her – the antisocial, unfriendly –

But, in some weird way, they had become her new family in the past six months, after the long years of their strange, tumultuous, often adversarial relationship. Homura felt Madoka's hand on her shoulder as tears sprang to her eyes. "Thank you," she finally said, lifting her head. "From the bottom of my heart, thank you."

Suddenly, she felt two pairs of arms around her, and then a third – when had Mami gotten up from her seat? It didn't matter, Homura decided. The four girls remained that way for a moment, then split apart to take their seats again. Only Madoka remained, her arm around Homura's shoulders.

Homura reached out for her final box – Madoka's, the present she had saved for last. With trembling fingers, she peeled back the wrapping paper delicately. Finally, after she had freed the last piece of tape and revealed the dove-grey box underneath, she carefully folded the paper, placing it in her pocket. Looking to her side, where Madoka was snuggled up to her, she received a bright smile and a nod. She opened the box. "Oh," she breathed.

Inside, nestled in a bed of tissue paper, was a watch, beautifully carved from pale wood; clockwork motifs decorated the whole surface, while rose vines climbed and grew over the gears, framing the border of the watch. Homura realized where she had seen the style before – it was the same as the music box they had found in the shop earlier that day – or the journal that Madoka had given to her brother. It was already ticking away merrily; the time read 8:48.

[Push a little of your magic into the watch, Homura,] Madoka whispered in her head. Stretching out her hand, ring shining, she did so. Like ripples through water, purple and black roses bloomed on pale green vines. For a moment, black and bronze and purple clockwork seemed to begin turning as Homura looked at it, though as she watched more closely, she soon realized it to be a trick of the eye.

A single finger touched the watch and a pink spark of magic leaped out. Suddenly, white and pale pink roses blossomed, nestled amid the purple and black flowers. Madoka took the watch in one hand, lifting it out of the box. "Give me your hand, Homura," Madoka murmured. Letting the box fall to the ground, Homura stretched out her right hand, trembling. Madoka's gentle touch brushed her hand as she placed the watch on her wrist with her tender fingers. "I helped to make this for you," Madoka spoke quietly as she fastened it shut. "It won't stop or rewind like your last watch, but it does have a 'pocket' for you to keep things in," she smiled, releasing the wristwatch and taking ahold of Homura's hand.

"Thank you, Madoka," Homura said, tears falling freely. "I'll wear it always." Closing her eyes she savored the moment; her head bent forward, and she briefly felt Madoka's forehead touch hers. For a moment, nothing existed but the two of them. Finally, she lifted her head, wiping her eyes.

"Alright, last presents," Kyouko said cheerfully, holding the two packages and handing them to Madoka. The pink-haired girl looked a bit startled, but accepted the packages with a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Kyouko," she said.

At that very moment the room was plunged into impenetrable darkness.



*That's a twenty-nine pound turkey, almost twice the weight of the average Thanksgiving or Christmas turkey. It's the largest size they could find that would fit in an oven; Mami had to have it shipped in from overseas.

AN: And Kyouko somehow manages to steal the show again. I have no idea how she does it. Really, you'd think I wasn't the author at all, for all the control I have over the characters.

Ah, yes. And Homura is still quite mad – er, insane, not angry. She is improving, and may one day be better, but that day is not today.

AN2: Kyouko's family were originally buried in pauper's graves. Don't know if those even still exist, but for the purposes of this story, they do. See for reference: Amadeus

 

[UrielAngeli]

All Out of Darkness

Cries of shock rang through the room. "Who turned off the lights?" Kyouko complained. Homura noticed absentmindedly that only she and Madoka remained quiet in the sudden darkness. Her mind kicked into overdrive as she stiffened.

Impenetrable darkness. 'Impenetrable' was more of a poetic descriptor, a suggestion, rather than a hard limit for Homura. But even her eyes, optimized and magically reconfigured to the absolute maximum borders of sensitivity, couldn't collect photons that weren't there, in the near-absolute darkness of the room. The dim light of starlight and a sliver of moon shining through the bay window her only illumination, Homura's eyes strained to make out the outlines and rough textures of the room and its inhabitants.

…Come to think of it, she should be seeing things in greyscale, but she seemed to be seeing things more in…pinkscale?

Homura caught a blur of motion out of the corner of her eye that resolved itself into the tiny figure of Tatsuya. As he barreled into Madoka, the pink-haired girl caught him effortlessly, slinging him over a hip. "Don't run like that, Tatsuya," she chided softly. "You could hurt yourself!"

"Uh-uh," the toddler said, shaking his head vehemently. "Madoka is shiny."

Homura quickly refocused on the conversation, currently growing louder as the others blindly groped around in the dark. Homura snapped her wrist, releasing her soul gem from its ring form. "Quiet," she commanded as a dim purple glow illuminated the room. Every head in the room turned to face her. "Kyouko, check the lights."

Kyouko paused, then nodded, picking her way over to the light switch. She flicked it off and on several times. "No joy," she said, turning back to face the group.

"Homura," muttered Mami, casting an uncertain eye on her soul gem.

The black-haired girl preempted her. "We don't know what's going on, so we need to split up and figure things out. Kyouko, light yourself up, and then you can accompany Mr. or Mrs. Kaname to the circuit box. If we're lucky we'll just be able to flip a switch and resolve the problem."

Kyouko nodded, turning back around with her soul gem already in hand. Dim red light joined the purple, casting strange colors and shadows about the room as the two intermixed. "Sure thing." Tomohisa and Junko shared a look, Tomohisa giving his wife a peck on the cheek before they separated. "So where's the electrical box in this place?" Kyouko asked Tomohisa as they made their way through the door.

"Mami, would you do the same and accompany Ms. Junko outside? The problem might be with the neighborhood, rather than the house," Homura asked. "Madoka and I will keep Tatsuya safe."

Mami hesitated, finally nodding as golden light spilled over the room. "Ms. Junko, do you know where our winter coats are being kept?"

Junko nodded as she followed the teenager from the room. "They're in the downstairs bedroom – I might as well grab mine while I'm at it…"

Madoka waited until Junko had left before turning to Homura. "Come on; let's get little Tatsuya bundled up," she said, smiling.

"You know something, don't you?" Homura smiled right back.

"Let's just say this isn't my doing, but I have a feeling," Madoka replied.

They had just finished making their way up the stairs and bundling Tatsuya in a pair of heavy pants and coat when they heard Mami's voice calling from the first floor. "Come quickly, everyone! You must see this!"

Tatsuya reluctantly consented to be passed back and forth between the two of them as they donned their own winter apparel, and finally they managed to make their way to the foyer. The others were already collected there, Kyouko shrugging on a slightly warmer coat over her jacket; the door was already open, cold air sweeping through the hallway, revealing snow softly reflecting the dim light of the night sky. Mami smiled, her eyes sparkling with unusual enthusiasm. "Lights out, everyone, and come on! It's truly amazing!" Junko nodded in agreement as they began to file out the front door, as the hall greyed to almost complete blackness. Homura could see the silhouettes of the others as they obscured the light from the outside.

Homura could hear Kyouko's voice through the door. "Hey – give me an idea of what's… oh." Kyouko rallied. "Ok, that is pretty cool," she said. And then Homura, with Madoka behind her, stepped out of the house.

The first thing that struck her was the darkness. As her eyes swept the horizon, Homura could see the great artificial mountains, the ziggurats of the modern era, silhouetted against the horizon. They were completely black. No lights shone from them to cast back the night. Not just the neighborhood, but the entire city was plunged into shadow.

And then Homura's eyes were drawn up, up and away from the darkness of the works of men. Laid out before her, almost too vast to be comprehended, was the spectacle of the heavens; not washed out in the unrelenting glare of electric lights, as she had seen it in the past, but unspoiled. Stars were scattered through the heavens like grains of sand; great clouds and bands of light filled the sky. As her gaze was drawn up, further and further up until she was craning her neck and standing on the tips of her toes, Homura could discern the incredible, fixed light of the evening star, close to the horizon; the black disk of the moon obscuring the stars, only a crescent of light showing. For an instant, Homura felt as if she could fall away from the dark and foreboding earth and into the sky, where the fixed stars dwelt in light and beauty for all ages. And then, as her gaze swept further up, she saw –

"Madoka," she gasped, blindly grasping and clutching her hand. Her eyes flickered down to the girl next to her. Madoka gave her a sweet smile, shifting her brother who was gazing openmouthed at the vista above him.

"Look, Tatsuya," she said, pointing one hand straight up. The toddler followed her finger, squealing in surprise and happiness. "Madoka! Madoka!" he celebrated.

Homura dragged her gaze up as well. Directly overhead, crowning all the stars in the heavens, was an immense pink comet, its tail blazing like a banner through the sky. Its pure light outshone even the evening star on the horizon. The remembered voice of the Incubator swept through her, leaving chills.

Well, then, let us witness together what kind of end the existence called Kaname Madoka will meet.

"Madoka," she said quietly, crying. "Are you alright? Are you safe?"

"Yes. Trust me," she said quietly, hugging her with one hand as Tatsuya's chubby fingers patted her wet cheeks. Homura threw her arms around Madoka, releasing her a few minutes later as she calmed.

"Thank you," Homura said quietly. She looked around; Junko was politely chatting with Mami, pretending not to notice; Tomohisa had disappeared; and Kyouko was leaning against the glass windows of the house, looking up at the comet with her brows furrowed.

Homura felt Madoka pluck her arm. "Come on, Homura," she said, smiling, "let's teach Tatsuya how to make snow angels!"

Homura felt a grin stretching across her face as she eagerly joined in.

=======

An hour later, Madoka, Tatsuya, and Homura trooped over to the patio, tired and laughing. At some point Kyouko had helped Tomohisa haul a moderately-sized brazier from somewhere, and a small fire was crackling merrily. The three of them collapsed on a loveseat next to the others, Madoka taking a corner of blanket from behind them and folding it up to cover them. Homura mirrored her on the other side as Tatsuya cuddled in the middle.

"Did you kids have fun?" Tomohisa asked, smiling.

"Yes," nodded Madoka cheerfully. "You all should have stayed out there longer with us!" Polite chuckles swept round the half-circle, then the group lapsed into silence only disturbed by the crackling of the flame. Across from her, Mami took a sip of her tea, relaxing in her armchair, while Kyouko sprawled on the floor nearby.

Tatsuya stirred, his head poking up from the blanket. "Mama?" the toddler asked.

Junko looked up. "What is it, Tatsuya?" she smiled at him, rising from her sofa, making her way to perch on the arm of the loveseat.

"Mama," Tatsuya said again, holding his arms out to be picked up. Junko snagged the little boy, and he brought his mouth up to her ear to whisper, "Potty, mama?"

"Ok then!" Junko said, rising again and snagging a flashlight. "We'll be right back out." A blast of warmer air hit Homura from the side as Junko opened the front door.

"I suppose I'll go in as well," said Tomohisa, leveraging himself off of his campstool by the fire. "How about some hot chocolate for everyone, or perhaps some tea?" he said, throwing a smile Mami's way. Murmurs of agreement rose to meet him, and he followed his wife and son into the home, turning on a lantern. The actinic glare briefly eclipsed the dancing firelight

"Oh, hey," Kyouko said a few moments later, before rummaging behind her back and pulling out two familiar wrapped packages and a half-eaten box of cookies. "You still need to open your gifts," the redhead said, handing the two packages over and popping another cookie into her mouth, crunching noisily. Madoka broke into a wide smile.

"Thank you so much, Kyouko, Mami," she said, head turning, "Homura," she finally finished, catching the dark-haired girl's eyes for a moment. Taking the presents, she carefully set the smaller, flexible package to the side, before tearing into the larger item with childlike enthusiasm. She sucked in a startled breath as she swept away the wrapping paper to reveal the intricately carved box. "Where did you find this, Kyouko?" she asked.

"Eh, some weird shop," the girl said. "Why?"

Madoka laughed brightly. "It's not all that important how this got here, I suppose. I just found it funny that you got a gift for me that was made by the same person who made my gifts for Homura and Tatsuya," she said. Her expression quickly became more serious as her hands began to glow pink, the light quickly escalating in color before it briefly became too bright to look at. Mami flinched, closing her eyes, as Kyouko's startled exclamation of shock was quickly cut off. Homura closed her eyes in bliss as she felt Madoka's magic envelop her, wrapping her soul gem in a soft, warm embrace. The pink glow quickly faded and died as Homura opened her eyes once more, slightly disappointed.

The pounding of feet was heard from inside the house as Junko burst through the front door, flashlight beam swinging back and forth crazily. "Did any of you girls see a light just now?" The two magical girls across from them just sat with a poleaxed expression, seemingly unable to make a sound.

The quiet dragged on for a moment too long before Madoka spoke up, giving Mami and Kyouko time to recompose themselves. "We didn't see anything unusual," she said. "But did you see the Christmas present Kyouko found?" she asked enthusiastically as she held up the wooden box. Now, the music box was dominated by crawling green vines in a field of pink and white roses, dim hues poking out from between the flowers here and there as the pink-and-white angel gazed compassionately from the lid.

"That's beautiful!" Junko exclaimed. "What's inside the box?"

"If you bring out everyone, I'll show you," the pink-haired girl replied.

"We're just waiting on Tatsuya," said Tomohisa, maneuvering out from behind his wife, tray of mugs and teacups in one hand, kettle in the other. "Why don't you go get him while I put on the water, honey?" Junko smiled and nodded. She closed the door to the house behind her as Tomohisa put the cast-iron kettle over the fire.

"I'll be right back, kids," he said, opening and closing the door again as he entered the house.

Kyouko's eyes flickered to the door. [OK, what the hell was that?] she demanded mentally as she turned her full attention to Madoka. For once, Mami didn't even shoot her a disappointed glance, instead carefully replacing her teacup on its saucer and setting it on the endtable next to her as her eyes narrowed.

"You don't know how much this gift means to me," Madoka said in reply to the question, fingers dancing over the box until with a small exclamation of triumph the hidden key popped loose. [It will help me keep them safe, even though I can't be here,] she said mentally. To her left, the door opened again as she began to wind the key, the box clicking over happily. Mami seemed to relax slightly, picking up her teacup and carefully sipping.

Tomohisa was first through the door, carrying a box of tea and a tin of chocolate and other assorted supplies for hot-drink-making. Junko was right behind him, Tatsuya in her arms. A smile lit up Tatsuya's brown eyes as he twisted, arms stretching out. "Madoka!" he demanded. The pink-haired girl chuckled, carefully giving the key one last turn before setting the box delicately on the endtable next to her. Half-rising, she flashed a small smile at Junko as she took Tatsuya before sinking back down. Madoka settled the toddler on her lap, where he seemed content to snuggle closer to her. Madoka flashed her a look, the corners of her mouth turning upwards, and Homura responded. Scooting closer, she leaned against Madoka's shoulder as Tatsuya seized a lock of her long hair, fascinated. The two of them shared a grin at the toddler's antics.

"Alright," Madoka said, leaning slightly to the side. One finger pressed the key back in to the box with a click.

Tinkling music spilled over the group, accompanied by a thrum of invisible power that made Mami and Kyouko's eyes go wide again. Homura sighed contently, relaxing bonelessly into Madoka as she just listened and felt. As the music continued, Homura could hear swelling in the background of the chiming melody a song like an orchestra of strings and woodwinds playing softly.

All too soon, the music came to an end as the unearthly music faded into silence. "That was beautiful," Junko's hushed voice said, and a wordless murmur of agreement swept over the porch.

"Truly magical," agreed Tomohisa.

Homura was brought out of her reverie several minutes later by the crinkling of paper and a small gasp of surprise. She opened her eyes to Madoka's smiling face. "They're wonderful, Homura," she said, cupping the embroidery-and-lace ribbons in her hands gently. "Would you put them in my hair?"

"Where would you like them?" Homura asked as she placed her hands over Madoka's, fingers entwining. The two – no, three, she thought, looking at Tatsuya – of them seemed in their own little world as the conversation began to grow from the other side of the fireplace.

Madoka giggled as she shook her head, her unbound hair rippling and swaying. "Anyplace that will still work with my normal style," she said quietly. Homura nodded and set to it with a will.

Time seemed to slip away as she gently, methodically worked the ribbons through Madoka's hair, occasionally (well, frequently) using magic to cheat. Tatsuya had fallen asleep quickly, despite his childish determination; he still remained with them, latched leechlike onto Madoka's waist. After Homura had delicately plaited several of the ribbons together to form a crown, she had woven them to fall through the pink hair in delicate streams of lace. As she came to the end, she found herself gently stroking Madoka's hair, her head laying in Homura's lap. She didn't know how long she spent there, just gazing at that beloved face. Finally, Madoka stirred, sitting up with a small, sad smile. Homura suddenly felt something hard and unpleasant settle into her gut.

As if by some invisible signal, the quiet circle around the dimming fire seemed to come to life. Mami stretched herself slightly before folding her legs back under her, covering herself again. Kyouko yawned and bounced to her feet, standing on the tips of her toes for a moment before perching on the porch rail. Junko and Tomohisa adjusted their blanket around themselves, and Tatsuya yawned groggily, poking his head up before latching back on to Madoka. Homura felt Madoka's fingers entwine with hers; she glanced down, catching sight of the face of her watch. "Eleven-fifty-five," she said quietly through the lump in her throat. She could feel her fingers beginning to tremble.

Kyouko reached into her jacket, pulling out her very last candy cane and unwrapping it with reverent hands. "I think I can say that this has been one of my best Christmases ever," she said, popping the end of the sweet into her mouth.

Mami paused, then nodded decisively. "Indeed."

Junko and Tomohisa looked at each other before smiling and nodding. "It really has been, hasn't it?"

"The very best," Homura said, her eyes watering. Madoka just gave her a beaming smile before sweeping her and Tatsuya into a tremendous hug. Homura didn't ever want to let go.

Finally, they released each other. Madoka boosted Tatsuya up to look him in the eyes, pink gazing into brown. "You'll be a good boy, won't you," she whispered. He nodded solemnly as her eyes flickered to Homura, pleading. "Love you, little brother," she said quietly, lifting him up and into Homura's arms as her vision wavered.

"Homura," she could hear Madoka whisper, feel the warmth of her embrace. "I love you," Madoka whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Homura clutched on to Tatsuya tightly as Madoka rose. Four more pairs of eyes drifted to follow her.

"Thank you for your hospitality, and your loving gifts. I will treasure them always," Madoka said, bowing.

"We are happy to have you here," Junko said slowly. Madoka smiled at her, then slipped out of the purple coat she was wearing. "Young lady, what are you doing?" she asked.

"I am sorry, but I must be going," Madoka replied, folding the coat and setting it on the bench where she had been sitting. She knelt down, even as Kyouko moved off of her railing and drifted forwards.

"Going – what – You're not going anywhere, young lady! What are you thinking? Get your coat back on before you catch your death of cold," Junko said.

"That's right," Tomohisa chimed in. "You're not going anywhere until the morning, or maybe even later if power isn't restored then."

Madoka stood up, smiling gently, her shoes in one hand. Mami cast off her blanket, ready to rise, only for Kyouko to shake her head. Homura could feel the buzz of telepathy between the two of them before Mami sunk back down. Madoka placed her shoes right next to Homura's purple coat. "I'm sorry, papa, mama," she said, giving them a loving smile as the turned to leave. "I must go. Duty and love compel me." Homura rose from her seat, cradling Tatsuya against her breast. Junko had a single hand raised, jaw working soundlessly, while Tomohisa had paused halfway out of his seat, completely bewildered.

Suddenly, Kyouko was there, blocking Madoka's path. The redhead seized Madoka with one hand, the other cradling her released soul gem. "Alright, so you need to leave," she growled. "Well, I need some answers! Just what did you do to your family? And what the hell duty is so important you have to leave –"

"My business is the salvation of souls. My Law of Cycles must be maintained," Madoka replied, cutting her off. Kyouko's eyes bugged out, and Madoka took the opportunity to sweep past her. Her stocking feet danced lightly over the snow, leaving behind no footprints.

"Hey- wait! Damn it!" Kyouko finally recovered her wits, and her soul gem flashed. A dozen red-and-black chains charged forward, forming a makeshift cage around Madoka. The other girl turned slightly, halfway facing the group on the porch as Kyouko vaulted over the railing, boots leaving deep divots in the snow. "YOUR Law of –"

Homura's clock ticked over to midnight.

The world around them faded to grey, lit only by the stars and the pink glow of the comet overhead. First like the morning star it shone, then the moon, then like the noonday sun as pink light overflowed, spilling over them, Kyouko's chains shattering in its brilliance. But the night sky was strangely untouched; in fact it sprung into sharper, clearer focus, hundreds and thousands of stars and nebulae and galaxies too dim to be seen any other night were visible to their naked eyes.

But they barely took notice of the sky. Once before, Homura had seen this marvel, where the immutable laws of the universe had met the will and the love of Kaname Madoka; and it was not the frail girl, but the ancient law that had cracked and broken, shattering the eternal skies with the glory of the light of Hope.

In a second, the figure of Madoka passed through childhood and adolescence, maturing into the figure of a woman, full-grown. Music, or something like music, swelled through their hearts, buoying them on songs of salvation. Luminous, ethereal wings unfurled behind her as her hair spilled like a waterfall, entwined and crowned with lace and snow-white ribbons. On her body, a dress took form, its face pink and shining white, while the inside seemed not merely to reflect the night sky overhead, but somehow contain all its myriad lights.

And as, at last, Her living bow took form in Her hand, pink rose blossoming to crown its tip, Madoka opened Her golden eyes and smiled Her heartbreaking smile.

Then She vanished.

Homura's watering eyes remained fixed, tears running down her cheeks as she gazed at the place where she had last seen Madoka. The pink light had gone, leaving only darkness; without even looking, she knew that the comet, too, had disappeared. To her right, she could hear the crash of breaking china, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Kyouko's candy-cane, forgotten, drop to the snow as the girl fell to her knees. But none of that mattered.

A hush descended on them, absolute stillness engulfed the entire group.



"Bye-bye, big sis Madoka!" Tatsuya's cheerful, childish voice finally broke the silence. Homura could feel the others, trance broken, swivel to stare.

"No, Tatsuya," she whispered softly, the child turning immense brown eyes to gaze at her. She smiled and whispered, "See you tomorrow, Madoka."



AN: I could write more about their reactions, but at this point it would be writing not for art or drama, but for my own pleasure. However, please do look for a special surprise update coming in the next few weeks!

Much honor and thanks to both of my betas, Euryale and SystemicHatter, without whom this story would not have been half as good as it turned out to be. And equal thanks to all those who reviewed, liked and commented - thank you for all of your support

 

[UrielAngeli]

Very pretty, indeed. I'm not sure what to say, and I'm not in the business of describing feelings, so I'm truly at a loss for words. Suffice it to say my eyes are still kinda wet. My main objection with this short story is what I perceive as a heavy prescence of Christianity. I am of a similar mind to Homura, and that scene with the shopkeeper annoyed me a little. But well, it was a Christmas story, it's probably my fault for not overlooking it.

The highlights for me was Kyouko's reaction to finding out the Kanames were Madoka's family, and all the scenes after as she watched Madoka interact with her family. As it played in my mind, as she slowly put together the tragedy she was witnessing... it was beatiful.

Click to shrink...

Thank you so much for your comments! Your feedback is tremendously helpful.

I was actually surprised at how Kyouko inserted herself into the story. It wasn't exactly planned that way, but she just kept butting in I think it turned out better for that, though.

Ah... religion. That was exactly the thing that I was most uncertain about when I wrote this story - how or how not to treat or include religion. I am truly sorry if it detracted from your enjoyment.

If you'll bear with a brief digression, I'll explain a bit. I'd welcome your thoughts on the matter.

On the one hand - faith is a natural part of human beings, whether that religion is Christianity or Hinduism or Secularism or something else. Moreover, for a writer, especially one creating a constructed universe, his or her faith will inform and direct his writing. A Gnostic will create a universe based on gnostic principles, a stoic on stoic principles, a nihilist on nihilist, humanist on humanist, and so on and so forth. And, of course, a Christian person will base his world on Christian foundations. All these writers will do so because they are informed by their faiths or philosophies as to how the world actually works.

There are, of course, good ways and bad ways to do this. If I want to include faith in my writing, I want to be a Tolkien, not a Jack Chick. The point of the story should not be propaganda.

On the other hand, in modern society, it's generally considered gauche to openly speak about or practice one's faith, which is generally considered to be a private matter. But we see stories and sf/fantasy worlds based on panthesitic, or atheistic, or agnostic principles all the time. And, as a reader, I can set aside my own distaste for what I see as a flawed or incomplete philosophy of life and just enjoy the story. So, with that, as long as I don't make the story propaganda, I feel like I should and can ask for the same courtesy from my readers: Even if you don't believe what I believe, respect that I honestly believe it, and please enjoy my stories

On the third hand, (boy, I'm running out of hands here),

For he that shall be ashamed of me and of my words, of him the Son of man shall be ashamed, when he shall come in his majesty, and that of his Father, and of the holy angels.

Click to shrink...

So my Lord has told me this in particular, which kind of supersedes all the other pondering I did earlier. Boy do I feel silly

So that's why I feel free to write stories that include my Catholic faith. For me, and I think for many committed Christians, one of the characters in all of our stories has to be God, moving among the many players in mysterious ways, for all of their benefit. I pray I have portrayed Him and His agents well. Again, I'm sorry if it caused your enjoyment to suffer, and doubly sorry if your distaste came from my actions or the actions of my Church and my fellow Christians.

You're annoyed at the relatively subtle, non adversarial prescence of christianity in a story?

Click to shrink...

Thanks so much for your defense on my behalf, Chloe! I appreciate it. And yes, Knitty, you were perfectly polite

 

[UrielAngeli]

I feel the need to challenge you here, on two points.

1) People do complain about stories that contain ideologies they disagree with. They do it all the time. For instance, this book is widely reviled for the Nazi ideology it contains. Are you saying that criticism of The Turner Diaries for promoting racist rebellion and ethnic cleansing is a problem with the critics, rather than the book? (I highly doubt it.)

I don't think anybody is actually objecting to Christian ideology in the story, however, as the moral backbone of Christianity is pretty solid (as distinct from the doctrine of specific Christian churches, which have a tendency to be more problematic). What Kintty was objecting to, and what you appear to be defending, is the presence of trappings of Christian mythology. Which leads me to my next issue, the more relevant one.

2) You are missing the difference between an original and a derivative work. The key difference is that an original work forms a new schema in the reader's mind, while a derivative work adds to an existing schema. When I read a heavily Christian piece of original fiction, I'm engaging in secondary belief through the lens of that work's universe (which potentially is somewhat merged with the general lens of Christian mythology). For a non-Christian example, I read this book and engaged in secondary belief through the lens of that work's heavily Norse-influenced universe.

The problem comes when you introduce those themes in a derivative work whose original doesn't have them. My schema, and most people's schemas, of Madoka Magica do not include any trappings of Christian mythology. Thus, when we come to this story under the impression that it's a Madoka fanfic, and try to engage in secondary belief through the lens of the Magicaverse, it fails, creating dissonance. The lens may even feel tainted by the subconscious addition of this contradictory information. One can compare it to the "out of character" complaint when a fanfic's characters don't match their established selves - this is effectively an "out of cosmology" complaint. I'd say that it's a valid and objective criticism when applied to derivative works.

Fact of the matter is that this is effectively an unlabelled crossover, and crossovers have these sorts of problems. It's somewhat compounded by crossing over with an exceedingly vaguely defined and highly contentious universe.

(The obvious and usually-best real solution to world-breaking issues like this is to change all the names so your viewers aren't seeing it through the lens of other works, and then publish it as an original work. This is in fact what most authors do, consciously or subconsciously; after all, "there is nothing new under the sun". )

Click to shrink...

Thanks so much for your commentary! It's exactly the sort of thing I was looking to hear to improve my writing.

I've been considering this particular post for several days, trying to compose an acceptable answer to your criticisms. I think it would be easier for me first to address the second before the first.

a) First point of your second criticism to address: the cosmology of Madoka Magica. Madoka is clearly, at least to me, a Buddhist story, perhaps even a Buddhist morality story, heavily influenced by "theme park Christianity". Madoka plays the role of Jesus, where Jesus is understood as a Bodhisattva in the conception of the creators.

I may disagree with My Little Po-Mo on a great many things, but his analysis of Madoka's themes is cogent and intriguing. In one of his articles, he goes into depth about how Homura and Kyouko's Christian ideals and upbringing lead them to suffering, because they fail to recognize the Buddhist cosmology of the story. If even someone as ideologically removed from my positions recognizes Christian themes in Madoka Magica, I hope I can be forgiven for seeing some as well

b) It may actually come as a surprise to you, but I didn't originally intend to include Christian "mythology" in the story. That was, in fact, an incidental. More on this in a moment.

c) Back to your first point. Please forgive the wall of text.

Including Christian ideology in this story was, to be blunt, inevitable.

This is NOT due to some desire on my part to get on a soapbox or propagandize or apologize or what have you.

As a matter of fact, I have binned more than eight stories in the past three years, stories that were technically well-written and actually quite fun to read and to write. When I reviewed my outlines for these stories, I realized that they were frankly self-indulgent. I had imposed my faith and sometimes even my religion on them, often unnaturally. In all cases the alterations or additions I had made to the cosmology of the universes they were set in was a central conceit, and offended against the spirit of the story.

So, I am determined not to let my joy in and duty to my God and my faith lead me into intemperate (NOT merely imprudent) and unjust action - which is also my duty to my God.

Rather, including Christian themes is inevitable, because, in the words of the inestimable C.S. Lewis, "I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else." Trying to not include Christian philosophy in my story would be like trying to see while rejecting the light.

I have always seen Christian themes in Madoka Magica. To me, the story has always been one of Man, fallen and sinful, failing to resolve any of his problems, his continued efforts only making things worse; when suddenly, out of nowhere springs the eucatastrophe. God has sent a deliverer to his people; where there was only despair, now there is salvation.

Yet we all find that when we look back, we can see the preparations His grace has made. It is fitting, and we wonder how things could have ever occurred any other way. All the sacrifice and suffering has culminated in the Sacrifice, and joy waits beyond it. God moves; laudate dominum, omnes gentes.

...Please forgive the digression. I do hope that I was fair in my treatment of non-Christian, even Atheistic, points of view

d) However! I believe your fundamental objection was to "the trappings of Christian mythology", not the presence of Christian themes - although that might (or might not) be implied from your words. I felt it better to err on the safe side and present an explanation anyway

I feel one-hundred-percent confident that the inclusion of "Christian mythology" in Peace on Earth was justified.

This is because the Christian elements were originally not intended to be in there!

If the Christianity is incidental to the story, then I feel confident I am not on my soapbox

Why did I include these elements? The central conceit of the story has always been that Madoka came back down to Earth for one day, Christmas day, to help Homura; as a sort of Christmas present. The problem came with "why" and "how". "Why" was Madoka able to do so for just this one day? "How" did she do it? When even Homura began asking these questions in the story, I was no longer comfortable with merely handwaving these concerns away. I judged it too likely to break the reader's suspension of disbelief.

So, how did Madoka get down to Earth? The obvious answer was that she hadn't done it alone. Someone had helped her. And the obvious answer to "Who" would help her was some other spirit with business on earth - one of the many gods or spirits or devils that populate classic mythology.

If I wanted to emulate the tone of the original Madoka Magica, I would have gone with a demon of some kind. Perhaps I could have inserted a pagan god of some sort. But a Buddha wouldn't have helped her (INCREASE rather than decrease her attachments to Mara? BUDDHIST BLASPHEMY!) And, if I had decided to go with one of Japan's pagan gods, I would have run into the same problem as I would have if I had included a demon. Demons and Gods are both arrogant and showy, and both are jerks. They merely differ on the intensity and depth of their arrogance and jerkishness

Including a pagan god or a demon would have 1, gone against the tone of the story I was trying to tell - one of hope and healing - and 2, raised a worldbuilding problem - if gods are so showy, why don't the Incubators notice and try to harvest them? It's a whole 'nother can of worms.

Adding an Angel like St. Raphael to the background solved the problem. Even if you merely consider the LORD to be the most successful of the pagan gods, just another "mere barbaric Lord of Hosts", you can't deny that he is a hell of a lot nicer, and less of a jerk, than pretty much every other pagan god out there. It fits with the tone of the story, God's about the only god that would do something out of the goodness of His heart, it doesn't open up another can of worms, and it gives a reason for "Why Christmas".

St. Raphael's there in the background, tying things up neatly; I don't even need to directly address his presence. Problem solved!

Except not really. Just like I kind of lost control over Kyouko as the story continued - she barged her way into three or four extra scenes that weren't supposed to be in the story in the beginning - I lost control over St. Raphael, too. OF COURSE he was going to start meddling; he just had to poke his nose into the middle of his own plot, make sure things were going well, say a few words to Kyouko and Homura to get them straightened out a bit more. (Dr. Heavens-knight? Who does he think he's fooling?)

I probably shouldn't be surprised. If Sakura Kyouko, who's not even a real person - in our dimension at least, possibly if anywhere - can hijack the story, why shouldn't St. Raphael be able to, when he is a real person?

(...Dear St. Raphael the Archangel, please don't be offended, and please pray to God to bless my story with many more reviews, if it be His will. Also a few words to other people's guardian angels wouldn't be amiss. Er, Amen.)

*cough*

Anyway, I hope I answered all of your concerns. I hope that my next few stories will be more to your liking, magic9mushroom - they should have little to no overt Christianity. I appreciate all the comments and reviews, and hope my work continues to be enjoyable.