The petite ebony sank to the hard, rough, ground on the outskirts of Mitakihara. The ground felt brutal against her cut knees, and her long hair was a matted mess, with a single red ribbon lost in it. She had to keep fighting. She had to. There were still demons out there, she knew there was. She had to keep going. It was for her. For Madoka. Every move she took was for Madoka, her beautiful goddess. She knew Madoka was by her side, even if she did not have a tangible presence, a voice, an anything. She was basically nothing, but she was everything. She was everything to Homura. And the female missed her and longed for her more than any word could ever begin to describe. Which meant that she had to keep fighting. Giving up was not an option, or even a consideration.
But at this point, could she honestly continue? This recent fight with a large group of demons had nearly destroyed her, her pale arms and legs covered in the blemishes from it— She didn’t care. If it was for Madoka, than nothing else mattered, and she would continue without any question in the slightest, even though she knew she was starting to get lost again, starting to lose herself again.
She pulled the long red ribbon out of her messy raven hair and her eyes filled with tears. She ran her fingers across it feeling every single strand of the fabric, wishing Madoka was at least half as tangible as this beautiful ribbon was. She remembered the voice she had heard what seemed like so long ago, telling her to keep fighting. Could it be that Madoka would return to her? Was it possible? The ebony did not believe so, no matter how much she would like to. She had been experiencing a more positive attitude lately, but the recent beating she took from those demons had stolen that from her. At least she defeated them. That was the only thing that mattered to her. She tried to force herself into a standing position, but it was in utter failure as she ended up hitting the ground again, twice as fast as she stood up. What was she to do? The girl’s light eyes began to water more and more with each continuous negative thought and soon, she began to sob.
“M-Madoka—!” she would choke out between her continuous wails, knowing no answer would come.
She hadn’t broken down like this, or at least not recently. She hated it. She had to be stronger, she just had to be. But for some reason, she felt like her emotions were going out of whack. Every time Homura tried to pull herself together, she ended up as unsuccessful as the previous time. She was covered in tears, sweat, and was losing more blood by the second. She had no way to bandage herself up or clean the wounds. She was too far away from the town. Her hysteric sobs were cutting off the oxygen her brain was getting and she knew her consciousness was slipping. Was she going to die here? After everything she had done was it all over? Was that the case? She refused to let that happen. There had to be something to give her the strength to keep going. Her thoughts of Madoka weren’t enough to get rid of these physical injuries, and slowly, she gave up on fighting it. Her hysteric sobs stopped at a point, and the ebony had begun to feel herself fading away.