The sky had already grown dark.
Natural sunlight was gradually fading away, and one by one, the city’s lights began illuminating the streets before the last traces of daylight disappeared.
Makoto Tsukimi and Homura Akemi had just left the large shopping mall.
They walked along the riverbank before climbing a steep slope.
Despite the relatively short journey, Makoto had also stopped at a convenience store along the way to purchase his dinner and some snacks.
Throughout their walk, the subject they discussed most frequently was how Makoto and Madoka Kaname would interact in the future.
Whenever the conversation turned to Madoka, the usually cold and reserved Homura seemed to have an endless amount to say.
During their conversation, she naturally told Makoto about her past with Madoka.
The story itself was rather simple.
Once upon a time, Homura Akemi had been a timid girl who, with Madoka Kaname’s help, gradually opened her heart to others and became a magical girl.
The two subsequently experienced countless battles together.
They had witnessed a familiar friend transform from a magical girl into a witch right before their eyes.
They had watched a respected senior magical girl suddenly turn against them and attempt to kill them.
They had even chosen to confront an enemy they had absolutely no hope of defeating.
In the end, they lay together amid the ruins left behind by their final battle.
Madoka, whose magical power had been completely exhausted, lied and claimed that she no longer possessed any Grief Seeds.
Then, while Homura wasn’t paying attention, Madoka secretly used her last remaining Grief Seed on Homura, allowing her to survive.
Having learned the truth, Madoka made a request of Homura, who possessed the ability to return to the past.
“Could you go back and save that foolish version of me who hasn’t been deceived by Kyubey yet?”
As Homura described the scene, an image gradually formed in Makoto’s mind.
It reminded him of soldiers on a battlefield who had exhausted their supplies and were on the verge of collapse.
One soldier told a small lie, handed over their final remaining supplies to another soldier, and made a request.
As a result, the second soldier survived.
And for the rest of their life, that survivor devoted everything to fulfilling the request of the person who had saved them.
In fact, that was precisely what had happened.
Homura’s response to Madoka back then had been a promise.
No matter how many times she had to repeat everything, she would absolutely protect Madoka.
And that was exactly what she continued doing now.
Makoto Tsukimi: “To be honest, Homura, I can understand why you’re so obsessed with saving Madoka. But actually putting myself in your position and feeling the same way is still pretty difficult.”
Homura Akemi: “That’s because you’ve never experienced it yourself, Tsukimi.”
Rustle…
Rustle, rustle…
The sound of plastic bags rubbing together repeatedly accompanied their conversation.
Carrying a convenience store bag in one hand and a schoolbag containing his homework in the other, Makoto continued talking with Homura as they reached the highest point in the area surrounding Mitakihara Private Middle School.
Makoto Tsukimi: “See that station up ahead? We can take a bus straight to my house from there.”
Beyond the station at the bottom of the gentle slope stretched the streets of Mitakihara.
Mountains extended across the horizon, their outlines appearing faint and hazy in the distance.
As far as the eye could see, the setting sun was drawing the final traces of daylight away from the earth, disappearing behind the mountains beyond the horizon.
As darkness completely enveloped the sky, the illuminated outline of the city gradually emerged before Makoto.
As previously mentioned, this was a world with an extremely peculiar pattern of technological development.
Here, one could find television towers resembling the Oriental Pearl Tower from Makoto’s previous life.
There were also enormous glass-covered skyscrapers reminiscent of those in New York.
And there were even buildings of more than 160 floors, complete with rooftop sky gardens, the sort of extravagant architecture Makoto associated with wealthy cities like Dubai.
Yet despite all this, public buses still existed.
Of course, the buses here weren’t the kind that required human drivers, as they had in Makoto’s previous world.
They were completely autonomous vehicles.
Consequently, after Makoto and Homura boarded the bus, the vehicle, which carried only the two of them, became a private space where they could move about freely during the journey.
An enclosed space.
The afternoon after school.
A boy and a girl sitting side by side, with no one else around.
Such an environment naturally invited certain associations.
That wasn’t to say either Makoto or Homura had any particular intentions.
It was simply that adolescence, with all its hormonal changes, naturally carried such an atmosphere.
Makoto turned his head toward Homura, who was sitting beside him.
The girl sat next to the bus window, her face turned toward the scenery outside.
Wind streamed through the open window, blowing her long black hair backward and scattering it behind her.
Her long shadow appeared and disappeared again and again.
Watching her hair flutter in the wind, Makoto couldn’t help recalling what the two of them had done earlier.
Using a shopping list of art supplies sent to Madoka’s phone, Makoto had directed her toward different stores to purchase the corresponding materials.
Whenever necessary, he could also contact Madoka through his phone to delay her and buy Homura more time.
As for Homura’s task, it was simple.
While Makoto kept Madoka occupied, Homura would eliminate every creature called Kyubey that appeared in Madoka’s vicinity.
As long as all the Kyubeys attempting to persuade Madoka to sign a contract and become a magical girl were eliminated, Madoka would be temporarily safe.
And it was during this process that Makoto witnessed another side of Homura Akemi, one far beyond anything he had imagined.
Her waist-length black hair whipped through the air.
Her firearms discharged repeated volleys, striking the white creatures known as Kyubey with extraordinary precision and destroying their bodies.
Perhaps this was what the gun-wielding magical girl truly looked like.
Thick gunsmoke and drifting dust surrounded her.
Yet her cold expression remained completely unchanged by the destruction caused by her weapons.
Although Makoto had only witnessed the scene through a monitor, he could still sense something resembling genuine killing intent in her swift and decisive movements.
Makoto Tsukimi: “So, Homura, your method of saving Madoka is to prevent her from becoming a magical girl?”
Homura Akemi: “Becoming a magical girl is the same as dying. Once it happens, there’s no turning back. The only fate awaiting a magical girl is to eventually become a witch in despair.”
Makoto Tsukimi: “You’ve already told me that part, so I understand it pretty well. But isn’t the whole thing fundamentally an equivalent exchange?”
“Even if the ultimate result of that exchange is the girl’s inevitable destruction, there are still people who would willingly trade their lives for a single hope.”
Now that their cooperation had deepened, Homura had begun sharing more information concerning magical girls with Makoto.
He had learned about Kyubey and the magical girl system.
Naturally, he had also come to understand the significance of everything Homura was currently doing.
Makoto Tsukimi: “The wishes made by young girls when they become magical girls are miracles that defy the rules of reality.”
“And since they’re products of something that violates those rules, distortions are naturally bound to arise.”
As he said this, Makoto turned his head toward the window.
Come to think of it, the existence of magical girls corresponded rather closely to the social structure of this world.
This world, with its bizarre technological development, resembled a flower cultivated in a greenhouse.
When confronted with a crisis, it might shatter at the slightest touch.
And magical girls were much the same.
The love obtained through wishes, the possessions acquired through wishes, and the things taken through wishes…
Whenever such things interacted with reality, some form of unnatural distortion would inevitably emerge.
Suppose someone wished for another person to love them forever.
Wouldn’t the love obtained through such a wish amount to a form of brainwashing?
Or suppose someone wished to obtain a social position they would never otherwise have possessed.
Once they actually occupied that position, would they truly have everything necessary to deserve it?
Society itself operated according to certain objective principles.
Whether someone forcibly preserved something that should have disappeared or acquired something they shouldn’t have possessed, the fundamental problem remained the same.
The former would lead to stagnation and decay.
As for the latter…
When someone couldn’t obtain a particular thing, that inability was, in another sense, evidence that they lacked the conditions necessary to acquire it.
If they forcibly obtained that thing through a wish without addressing whatever they were missing…
—That was precisely what created a distortion.
Making someone who didn’t love you fall in love with you was brainwashing.
Making something that didn’t belong to you become yours was theft.
Obtaining honors that you hadn’t genuinely earned was deception.
Homura Akemi: “Then what would you call traveling through time to give someone who was destined for tragedy a happy ending?”
The cold-looking girl continued gazing out of the window.
At that moment, the bus entered a tunnel.
The dim lighting inside the vehicle made it impossible for Makoto to clearly see Homura’s expression.
Makoto Tsukimi: “Futility.”
He gave his answer.
Homura immediately turned her head toward him.
The cold-looking girl stared directly at Makoto with her violet eyes.
Makoto, however, met her gaze without the slightest concern.
Makoto Tsukimi: “Haven’t you already tried it, Homura? This is your sixth time loop.” This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“What reason is there to believe that something you couldn’t solve in the previous attempt will suddenly become solvable in this one?”
After saying this, he shifted his gaze toward the front of the bus.
The vehicle continued traveling through the tunnel, its interior almost entirely immersed in darkness.
“Sisyphus offended the gods. As punishment, the gods ordered him to push an enormous boulder to the top of a mountain.”
“However, because the boulder was so heavy, it would roll back down the mountainside every time he approached the summit, rendering all his efforts meaningless.”
“And so, he was forced to repeat the task endlessly, without ever reaching its conclusion.”
Makoto was recounting a famous story from Greek mythology that he remembered from his previous life.
In modern discussions, this story had acquired numerous symbolic interpretations.
Particularly within the context of existentialist philosophy, the act of endlessly pushing the boulder had been given a peculiar significance as a form of resistance against the absurdity of reality.
However, what Makoto wanted to express at that moment was simply the literal meaning of the myth itself.
Makoto Tsukimi: “Homura, in this simple story, what do you think Sisyphus would actually have to do to push the boulder all the way to the summit?”
Homura Akemi: “…”
The cold-looking girl pressed her lips together and remained silent.
If Sisyphus, who had offended the gods, wanted to free himself from his punishment, then what he truly needed to do wasn’t push the boulder.
He needed to defeat the gods who were punishing him.
As long as the gods intended to punish Sisyphus, how could he possibly succeed in pushing the boulder to the summit?
But could Sisyphus, a mere mortal, actually defeat the gods?
That was an almost impossible task.
Homura Akemi: “If I don’t try, then there’s no hope at all. As long as I keep going, sooner or later I’ll find even the slightest possibility.”
At that moment, the driverless bus emerged from the tunnel.
The vehicle had now entered the outskirts of Mitakihara.
Having left the city behind, the stars glittering brightly in the night sky were clearly visible through the windows.
Hearing Homura’s response, Makoto didn’t show any trace of contempt.
Instead, he reached into the bag he was carrying, took out a can of soda, and handed it to the girl beside him.
Homura Akemi: “?”
The serious girl instinctively accepted the soda Makoto offered her.
However, after taking it, a puzzled expression naturally appeared on her face.
She couldn’t quite understand why he had suddenly given her a drink.
Makoto Tsukimi: “Oh, Homura, have you ever seen those scenes in television dramas where a supporting character raises a drink in respect as the protagonist sets off on a great journey?”
“That’s the kind of supporting character I’m playing right now.”
He explained his thoughts with an utterly serious expression.
Strictly speaking, Makoto had never considered himself someone with particularly strong determination.
If he were placed in Sisyphus’s position, forced to push an enormous boulder up a mountain, he would probably give up the very next day after seeing all his hard work undone when the boulder rolled back down.
Push the boulder?
To hell with that.
If the gods want to punish me, they can just get it over with.
I’m not going to spend eternity doing something so pointless.
But that didn’t mean Makoto Tsukimi felt no admiration for someone who continued pushing the boulder despite everything.
Makoto Tsukimi: “Let’s use soda instead of wine. Here’s to you, Homura Akemi.”
With an almost ceremonial sense of occasion, he pulled open the tab of his soda can and raised it toward Homura in a toast.
Before the bubbles inside could finish fizzing, he brought the opening to his lips and began gulping it down.
The cold-looking girl stared at Makoto, momentarily stunned by his behavior.
Faced with the boy’s inexplicable actions, she felt that the appropriate response would be to maintain her cold expression and simply ignore him.
After all, he was drinking so hastily that a considerable amount of soda was spilling onto his collar.
He looked rather ridiculous.
And yet, as she watched him drink…
Homura eventually found herself opening the tab of her own soda can almost against her better judgment.
Just like Makoto, she immediately brought the can to her mouth the moment it opened.
The sharp, fizzy soda poured into her mouth, while some escaped past her lips and trickled down her chin and neck.
Perhaps because it was her first time drinking this particular kind of soda, Homura suspected that the collar of her uniform was now just as thoroughly soaked as Makoto’s had been.
No, hers was probably even worse.
After all, she could distinctly feel the dampness spreading across the front of her uniform.
The driverless bus continued moving forward, the scenery outside its windows steadily receding into the distance.
Homura had no idea why she was drinking so fiercely.
She simply kept drinking.