After finishing her long, silent staring contest with the remains of the deceased chair, Homura took a moment to check around the room. She glanced through the closet, finding a small selection of basic clothing already prepared for her.
She wasn't surprised. It was thorough, just like the rest of this weirdly curated apartment.
The exhaustion finally hit her then. Heavy and oppressive. Realising, now that she was no longer stuck in an endless crisis, that her body hadn't properly rested in months. Maybe even longer, not counting that single, brief sleep the night before facing Walpurgisnacht.
And considering how that ended, it hardly counted.
Without another thought, she made her way to the bed, ignoring everything else, and collapsed onto it face-first. She didn't bother changing or even pulling back the covers.
Sleep came instantly.
But sorrows followed right after.
---
Morning came, though Homura wouldn't have known it by the dim light barely sneaking in through the curtains. She woke slowly, groggy and disoriented — a heaviness sitting over her chest like a weight.
Her pillow was damp.
Frowning, she touched her cheek, feeling the faint, sticky dryness of dried tears clinging to her skin. The faint puffiness around her eyes made it obvious she'd spent the night crying. Hard. But for what… she couldn't remember.
Not a single image, sound, or face remained from whatever had clawed at her heart while she slept.
Only the feeling.
A dull, hollow sorrow lingered in her bones like a disease
Homura stared up at the ceiling, her throat tight, jaw clenched. She wasn't the type to break easily. Hadn't been for a long, long time. And yet… here she was.
"...Pathetic," she muttered under her breath.
Getting up, she cleaned the remnants of her involuntary sorrows with a simple spell, muscle memory guiding her hand with routine precision,
Then she froze.
A thought brushed against the edge of her mind
"Even without transforming…" Homura flexed her fingers, testing the weight of magic in the air, and sure enough, it was still there. The soft pulse of power beneath her skin, simple spells coming effortlessly, without the aching strain she'd half-expected in this world.
"And…" She didn't hesitate, quickly willing her transformation into existence. Magic flared for a moment as the sequence quickly happened, forming into the familiar black long-sleeved dress.
Her gaze fell to her soul gem, a pristine, gleaming violet jewel. With not a trace of black mist.
No grief.
She stared, furrowing her brow.
"Still not a shred of grief," she muttered, voice low. She turned the gem in her palm, watching the way it caught the light.
This shouldn't be possible. In every world she'd lived through, every loop, the grief always came. Whether from battle, from fear, from sheer exhaustion… it gathered.
Especially considering what she was... most likely doing while sleeping, it should have filled. Yet, it was still completely void of grief.
"I suppose that's convenient then," she murmured, a faint, smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Something positive in this chaos fest of unusualities.
In a flicker of small violet light, the transformation vanished. Her regular clothes returned.
Turning, she glanced around the room one last time before grabbing the phone Nezu had left for her. Without a word, she made her way out of the bedroom, the soft click of the door the only sound left behind.
She stepped into the kitchen, pausing for a moment in front of the cupboard. Almost on autopilot, her hand reached up toward where she'd expect a tub of instant noodles to be — only to grab at empty air. She blinked, breaking from the daze and realizing where she was now. This wasn't that world anymore.
Closing the cupboard with a quiet click, she opened the fridge instead, expecting the same barren, half-forgotten shelves she was used to… but no. It was fully stocked. Fresh produce, drinks, sauces, and proper ingredients. An actual functioning kitchen.
For a moment, she just stared.
After a certain point in her loops, Homura had stopped caring about what she ate. Meals became a chore, another thing to optimise for efficiency. Instant noodles, calorie bars, canned coffee. Anything fast and easy to keep moving. Cooking for herself was a skill she still had, sure. For Madoka's sake, but it hadn't mattered. Why waste effort on a nice meal when you were only going to reset?
The only times she ever properly ate were because of Madoka. Either when on d̶̶a̶̶t̶e- one-on-one hangouts, if she invited her over, or if she personally came to homura's apartment, being forced to take care of herself properly.
A small, delicate smile tugged at Homura's lips at the memory. It barely lasted a moment before it soured. gaze dimmed.
It would be a long time before she ever saw her again.
She closed the fridge quietly and leaned against the counter, staring at nothing in particular.
She stayed like that for a while, processing the fact that yes, she was out of the loop now. That she wasn't going to wake up in a hospital bed
"I suppose... I should cook something then," she muttered to no one, pushing herself upright and pulling the fridge back open.
A memory surfaced. One of those rare, gentle ones. Madoka finds an injured Homura after a bad witch hunt, refusing to let her stay alone in her empty apartment. Insisting that she come home with her. A sleepover that turned into staying for a few days. Waking up to the scent of breakfast, Tomohisa made simple but warm pancakes.
Homura had sat at the table that morning, exhausted but oddly content, stealing quiet glances at Madoka. She hadn't really understood why she couldn't look away.
Homura shook her head, though a stubborn smile remained on her face.
"Pancakes won't be too hard. If I remember correctly…"
A/N
anyway, remember how there was alot lot more loops than cannon. yeah... lot's of stuff happened in them, and i plan to reference them a bunch. maybe even give some extra's that just show some good loops. idk.
anyway hope you enjoyed.