I didn’t think I was going to write anything for Madoka’s birthday, but Ange’s excellent art post and some Twitter comments inspired me. Special thanks to @parme-tan for motivating me to finish this!
(If the art doesn’t tip you off, this is soft ribbon bondage lewds.)
"Aah, Mami-san! You know just what I wanted for my birthday!" Madoka can barely take her eyes off of the trussed up Homura, who lay stewing, flustered and indignant.
"No problem, Kaname-san." Mami smiles at her friend and, when Madoka isn't looking, shoots a smirk at helpless Homura. "I'll just leave you two to it. Please enjoy yourself!" She takes her leave and Madoka is left alone with Homura.
"Time to unwrap my present."
Homura watches Madoka's hands and blushes when she sees where they're reaching. "M-Madoka, that's my uniform's ribbon, n-not one of Mami's..."
"I know." Madoka grins as she unties one of Mami's ribbons - and uses it to blindfold Homura.
"Madoka, what are y-mmph!" Madoka gags her with one of her gloves. "Shh, Homura-chan. Presents shouldn't talk."
"Let's get these off you," says Madoka, pushing the ribbons down Homura's torso, but oh! Her shirt and collar, loosened by the removal of the uniform ribbon, slide down as well, exposing pale skin that contrasts mightily with the fierce blush on Homura's face. Madoka makes sure the ribbons and clothing keep Homura's arms pinned tightly to her side - it wouldn't do to give her present a chance to escape.
Homura squirms but Madoka ignores this, moving to her legs and languidly loosening the ribbons there. She tugs at Homura's stockings, prompting a surprised squeak from her captive, but there are still more ribbons to unwrap before she can really get to the good stuff. Homura is trembling with nerves and anticipation as Madoka removes the red ribbons.
Now the majority of the ribbons are gone. The ones that remain keep Homura's arms firmly pinned at her sides and her eyes covered. Her breathing is rapid, even through the white glove that gags her speech. Madoka pauses in her unwrapping to trail a finger along Homura's face. "Thank you for being such a good birthday present, Homura-chan," she says and plants a kiss on Homura's cheek.
The stockings slide off easily enough once the ribbons are gone. Homura whimpers Madoka's name, or tries to. Madoka smoothes Homura's hair. "Your skin is so soft, Homura-chan," she says, stroking the outside of Homura's thigh.
Homura can't take it anymore. She spits out the glove and in a strained voice says, "Madoka, I-" She cuts off when Madoka brings her fingers to Homura's lips, tracing over them. Madoka leans in to kiss her helpless girlfriend. "I still haven't finished opening my present," she says softly, her breath warm against Homura's face. "Should I see what's inside?" Homura presses forward to nuzzle her face against Madoka's in response.
If Homura's eyes weren't covered, she'd see Madoka blush, her eyes widening and she loses her teasing composure for a moment. A fond smile crosses her lips, and she tucks some hair behind Homura's ears. "You're so cute, Homura-chan," she murmurs. "I'll make this fun for you too, don't worry."
Madoka still has a glove left, so she uses that as a replacement gag before Homura can respond. She nudges Homura to roll over onto her back and then circles to sit near Homura's feet.
Homura has her legs pressed together, crossed at the ankles, a defense against how helpless she finds herself. She twitches when Madoka places a hand on one of her knees, then the other, easing her legs open. Madoka sits back and admires the view. Slender, pale legs, always hidden by stockings, now revealed. Once again Madoka lets herself trace Homura's skin, appreciating how Homura's breathing gets heavier and more responsive to her touch the higher she moves. The way Homura's skirt falls, it still obscures her crotch, leaving Madoka to wonder if Homura wears panties under her stockings or not. She can't help licking her lips. Either is fine. She'll get there eventually.
It's time to grant Homura a little mercy. With a grin that her captive can't see, Madoka finally slips her fingers under Homura's skirt, not lifting it, going in blind and letting her fingers explore. She feels fabric, solving the panty mystery. Damp fabric, which solves the mystery of whether Homura wasn't actually enjoying this or not.
She lets her finger roam, sliding over the growing wetness, observing which spots make Homura's breath hitch and which elicit strangled moans from behind the gag. Homura's face is redder than ever, her hair disheveled again from tossing her head back and forth. It's adorable, Madoka thinks, just how flustered and worked up Homura gets. And Madoka feels proud that she's the one who can make Homura feel like this.
"Ho-mu-ra-chaaan..." She draws out the syllables as she slides her other hand under Homura's skirt. Both hands hook onto the waistband of Homura's panties. Homura mumbles something that might be Madoka's name. With a brisk tug, Madoka pulls down Homura's panties, to her knees in one swift motion and then sliding them the rest of the way off. They're plain white and quite wet with arousal. Madoka shifts where she's sitting. She's in a similar state by now.
She crawls in between Homura's legs and settles herself in front of the skirt. Madoka can hear Homura trying to keep her breathing slow and steady, though she's not doing a very good job of it. The view of her bound girlfriend is exciting: Homura's chest rising and falling, her breasts covered only by a modest bra. Her hair no longer perfect like usual. And, of course, the best part of the picture is right in front of her. Madoka lifts Homura's skirt and lowers her mouth to meet Homura's wetness with her tongue.
Homura cries out, the gag doing little to muffle it. Her back arches and she lets out a long, shaky breath. The intensity of Homura's reaction has Madoka reaching a hand down inside her own panties; she can no longer go without relieving some of her own ache.
Homura's hands are clenching and unclenching at her sides as Madoka works her tongue inside her present. Madoka strokes a finger against herself in rhythm with her tongue. Soon her attentions to Homura are coupled with gasping breaths and even moans. The first time Madoka can no longer contain her reaction, moaning against Homura, Homura moans in turn, bucking slightly at the feeling. Madoka giggles to herself and doesn't even try to hold back on vocalizing anymore, just giving into the sensations, driving Homura to the brink. Homura is gasping, her legs quivering on either side of Madoka's head.
Deprived of sight and speech and motion, Homura can do nothing but experience Madoka's tongue, relentlessly teasing her. It's not just the sex, it's that it's Madoka doing this that makes Homura weak, and before long she loses control, orgasm washing over her. Homura moans and trails off into a satisfied whine. Her breathing continues heavily. Madoka closes her eyes, revels in the sounds, and strokes herself to her own end. Her legs are weak, but she crawls to lay next to Homura. She plants a soft kiss on Homura's cheek, giggling at the sharp gasp she gets in response. Homura's face turns to her, though Homura is still blindfolded.
"Homura-chan, did you have fun?" Madoka pulls her glove from Homura's mouth.
Homura takes a deep breath. "M-Madoka..." She swallows to get rid of the fabric taste. "Y-yes, I- I did." There's sweat gleaming on her brow and her face is still flushed.
"I'm glad." Madoka slips the ribbon from Homura's eyes, meeting her vulnerable purple gaze for the first time since they'd started.
"But it's your birthday and you did all the work." Homura closes her eyes and turns her head to the side. "I should have been the one-"
"It's my birthday, so I get to do what makes me happy. And what makes me happy is making you happy, Homura-chan." She giggles. "Besides, I didn't ignore myself. I couldn't. You sounded so sexy."
"M-Madoka!" Homura squeezes her eyes closed even tighter. The flush rises in her face to the tips of her ears.
"But I'll tell you what, Homura-chan. When it's your birthday, you can return the favor if you want~"
Off-the-cuff MadoHomu because they are my forever OTP. Just a brief snippet written in a chat with a friend, because that’s the only way I’m able to write lately.
Madohomu, Homura is over Madokas house for a study date. Junko isn't home from work yet. Tomohisa has to run out to do a quick errand, twenty minutes or so. Takkun goes with him.
As soon as she hears the front door close, Madoka turns to Homura with a mischievous grin. "We don't have much time, Homura-chan."
"Time...?" Homura echoes. She's not a big fan of time-related things, but Madoka doesn't give her long to dwell.
Madoka sits down on the bed with a bounce. She's inches away from Homura, and Homura's first instinct is to draw back. Madoka isn't deterred. She ruffles Homura's hair, giggling. "Don't worry, Homura-chan. We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."
"Do...?" She can only parrot back Madoka's words, proximity robbing her of thought.
"Well," and Madoka's gaze drops, her cheeks going pink, betraying uncertainty for the first time, "I thought we could, you know, um... kiss. And stuff."
"And stuff." Homura is still pretty vague on what comes after kissing. All the shoujo manga she's read has stopped after first kisses, and Homura hasn't even had hers yet. She wonders... Surely Madoka hadn't...
"Homura-chan!" Madoka pokes her lightly on the forehead, returning Homura's attention to the present. Madoka giggles. "You're so cute like that."
"I'm not cute." It's automatic, the response, and true. Madoka is cute. Homura is pathetic and ridiculously lucky, that's all.
Madoka puffs out her cheeks in a pout. "You are too. That's why I wanna-" She leans over and darts a kiss onto Homura's cheek. "Wanna kiss you," she finishes in a mumble, ducking her head and gauging Homura's reaction through her bangs.
"You're home late," Miku said, her eyes narrowing. "And you're drunk."
"Eheh." Hibiki rubbed the back of her neck. "The Commander said we should all go out after the meeting. Everyone else was going, so I had to too."
"Hmph." Miku crossed her arms over her chest, her pout deepening. "I guess it can't be helped. But you still kept me waiting."
"Sorry, Miku." Hibiki's shoulders drooped. She tugged at the collar of her dress shirt. "But I'm home now, right?" A hopeful grin, that endearing puppy dog expression, crept onto her face.
Miku felt her exasperation beginning to leak away in spite of herself, and something else began to take its place. "Yeah, you're home now." She reached for Hibiki's collar and undid the top button. She let her fingers trail down the tie, the lightest pressure brushing down Hibiki's chest.
Hibiki followed Miku's fingers with her eyes, watching as Miku took hold of the end of the tie. Miku raised her eyes to meet Hibiki's gaze. She smiled at Hibiki, her tongue poking out slightly to wet her lips. Hibiki's breath caught.
"It's late, you know," said Miku, her voice dropping. "So maybe we should... go to bed." A gentle tug on the tie punctuated her suggestion, and she led Hibiki down the hall to their bedroom.
More sin for Lynx/ @carolnein. Featuring the Carolnein ship from her sinful clonecest AU. It’s fluffy kisses.
Once Carol noticed Elfnein’s gay mouth, she couldn't stop thinking about it. Those smooth lips curved into a natural smile... Something about them was fascinating in a way Carol had never befor experienced
Carol had no memories. She wondered if she'd been this fascinated with Elfnein before. If she'd taken note of the light, graceful way the other girl pattered about headquarters. If she'd dwelt on the soft fluffy hair that just begged for Carol to pet it.
Carol still wasn't sure what their relationship had been in the past. Elfnein was rather circumspect about all that, citing a gag order from the commander. But Carol wanted to know; lack of knowledge, about anything, caused her an almost physical pain.
Knowledge. Science was how you gained knowledge, and that's what Elfnein spent her days doing. Carol watched when she was allowed, which was infrequently, and she helped when possible, which was even more restricted. The more they kept her from the lab, though, the more Carol burned to try things for herself.
She'd managed to do some reading about topics which had been deemed harmless enough. The scientific method had come up, and Elfnein had mentioned, when Carol had gotten her talking about work, how experiments, duly repeated, we're how you gathered data.
Why did Elfnein fascinate her so? Carol decided to do some science and find out.
Ask a question. Well, Carol had done that. Now she needed a hypothesis. Elfnein's lips attracted Carol because... she wanted to touch them for some reason. So maybe touching lips felt good. Background research, another important part of the scientific method, indicated that lips touched most commonly in kisses, so Carol would design her experiment around that.
Kiss Elfnein. And because valid experimental data required repeated testing, kiss her multiple times.
Experiments took place in controlled environments, like a lab. And it just so happened that Elfnein spent a lot of time in labs. Carol found a time when she could slip away unobserved and see her research subject.
Elfnein was focused on a complicated apparatus that exposed relic fragments to sound waves to analyze the reactions. She was intent on her work and didn't sense Carol until Carol was behind her, circling her arms around Elfnein's waist and resting her chin on Elfnein's shoulder.
"Carol!" Elfnein yelped in her soft voice that very nearly drove all thoughts of science out of Carol’s head. Elfnein kept her gaze forward and deliberately powered down the machine. "You're not supposed to be here today." Her voice wobbled.
"I wanted to see you." Was that so wrong? They never let her do anything fun, even something as simple as visiting Elfnein at work. "And I wanted to do science."
Elfnein's voice was controlled now. "The labs are dangerous, Carol. They're no place for people who don't know what they're doing."
A spike of annoyance. Maybe Carol had once known, maybe she hadn't, but either way, she could learn, couldn't she? Then this place wouldn't be dangerous. Then she could be with Elfnein. But no one, Elfnein included, seemed to want her to.
"I know what I'm doing," said Carol in a low voice. "I planned this experiment quite thoroughly." Her hands moved to Elfnein's hips; she spun the other girl around so that their eyes met for a split second before Carol pressed their lips together.
"C-Carol!" Elfnein pulled away for a moment, gasping a half-formed protest before Carol repeated her experiment, this time introducing a new variable. She parted her lips, pressed her tongue against Elfnein's lips, demanding entrance to her mouth. Elfnein whimpered against Carol's mouth, but her lips parted, and Carol deepened the kiss. Elfnein clutched at Carol's arms, seemingly unsure whether to pull her closer or push her away.
They kissed for breathless minutes until Carol finally felt like she had enough data to analyze. She pulled back, smiling in satisfaction, but her expression changed when she saw tears glistening in the corners of Elfnein's downcast eyes
"What's wrong?" Carol demanded. She realized immediately after speaking that she'd sounded too harsh, but what was she supposed to say to fix that?
"N-Nothing," said Elfnein, scrubbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her slightly over-sized lab coat.
"That's a lie," Carol said, crossing her arms. "You should tell me so I can make things better."
Elfnein's lips quivered, but she responded, "I just- I was thinking about the last time someone kissed me. It- it wasn't very nice."
Someone else had kissed Elfnein? Something ugly twisted in Carol's gut, but she shunted it aside for the moment. "So was this bad too?"
Elfnein shook her head. "It was... nice. You just surprised me, Carol. A lot."
Carol smirked. "Of course. You can't tell the test subject about the experiment. That'd prejudice the result." Elfnein stared at Carol, her jaw hanging open. Then she burst into giggles, clinging helplessly to the lab counter for support. "I don't see what's so funny," Carol muttered, but she allowed herself a small smile all the same.
While I’m thinking about it, here’s the old Skype fic that prompted this art request in the first place.
Miku leans over Hibiki, one hand next to Hibiki's head, almost pinning her to the wall. It's time to turn on the charm. Miku's used flirtation to get her way before, but only with men, and never with anyone she's been genuinely attracted to. It makes it harder to focus. "Any chance I could ask you to forget about this?" she asks in a practiced purr.
Hibiki's face goes pink, and she bites her bottom lip. Miku's gaze zeroes in for a moment before she forces herself back into business mode.
"I- I can't," Hibiki mumbles. "The Captain said- And they're- you're the bad guys ..." She sounds incredulous still. "I have to report you so that the city can be safe."
Next level. Add a little steel to her words. Miku's still holding her pistol in her other hand. She strokes the cool metal barrel along Hibiki's cheek. "You're a real cutie, you know," she says. She can feel a traitorous blush rising on her own face; what she's just said was the complete truth, after all, even if she's using it as part of her coercion. "It'd be a shame to have to kill you."
The color fades from Hibiki's cheeks a bit. She studies the gun that's next to her face. A police officer, she knows that it's the real deal and that Miku's threat isn't a complete bluff. Miku watches these thoughts play out in Hibiki's expression - she's so open and unguarded; who thought it would be a good idea to give Hibiki a delicate mission like this one? - and tries to figure out if she's capable of carrying out her threat. They've only been dating a few months, there are other girls out there, it's not just Miku's own livelihood at stake, the boys depend on her... There are so many good reasons to just pull the trigger and get the boys to take care of cleanup once they regain consciousness.
But in these last three months Miku has been happier than at any point since she was a small child. With Hibiki she didn't have to worry about never showing weakness. She could talk with Hibiki as an equal, as a woman, not a mob boss. And Hibiki's passion for justice had Miku reexamining her role for the first time since she took over for her father. She'd tried to turn the gang to less brutal avenues of business, but even now she was on the point of adding one more body to the heap.
She's so wrapped up in her own thoughts now that it takes a moment to realize that Hibiki's watching her. Miku had left herself open, but Hibiki hadn't taken the chance, just waited. "Well?" asks Miku, a bit brusquely to cover her embarrassment.
Hibiki gives her a sad smile. "I don't want to die or anything, but... I can't let you get away with this either. I'm sorry, Miku. I-"
A swift movement and a loud crack. Hibiki crumples, blood oozing from her temple. Miku pockets her weapon - she certainly doesn't want to give the police any more help - and lets out a long, shuddering sigh. "Idiot," she tells the unconscious girl. She turns her back and pushes away her regrets to deal with later. For now she'd make the most of her lead and skip town while she still could.
I wrote sinful Carolnein for @carolnein (Lynx) because she likes her AU where the clone toddlers bonk.
"Elfnein," asked Carol, "where do babies come from?"
Elfnein had just taken a sip from a fresh cup of coffee, and she just about scalded her tongue off in order to avoid spraying the drink all over her computer. Her eyes watering, she swallowed. "Wh-what made you think of that?" she asked once the coughs had subsided.
"Are you okay?" Carol was standing next to her, far too close for comfort in the wake of such an embarrassing question (the babies one, of course, not her inquiry about Elfnein's well-being). In this position, Carol was taller, and Elfnein slid out of her desk chair from the other side and stood as well. She shuffled some printouts that were within reach, completely unrelated to her research, but a good distraction.
"I'm fine," Elfnein said. "I just took too big of a sip."
"That's good." Carol gave Elfnein a smile. Such a sight still stunned Elfnein every time she saw it. Back at the Chateau, the only time Carol smiled was when her plans were progressing, and it had always been such a cold expression. Elfnein was still learning not to draw back whenever she saw a pleased look on Carol's face. "Anyway," Carol asked, taking Elfnein's vacated seat, "where do babies come from?"
"That's a strange question," Elfnein said, keeping her eyes glued to her paperwork and most definitely not on Carol. "Why do you ask?"
"Chris said I should ask you."
Of course. Elfnein was fond of Chris perhaps more than she was of anyone else at SONG, but the antagonism between Chris and Carol sometimes led to Chris causing trouble for Elfnein. This seemed like it would be one of those times.
"W-well." Elfnein shuffled her stack of papers. Research on new relic fragments was coming along. She'd have to get updates on that project.
"Well?" Carol swiveled in the chair and leaned forward, a small, impatient pout forming on her lips and furrows on her brow.
"It's an involved biological process," said Elfnein, holding her papers higher in front of her face to hide her blush. "The explanation would be boring."
"Chris said you could show me," said Carol.
Maybe Hibiki would be Elfnein's new favorite.
"Sh-show you?" To Elfnein's horror, her voice squeaked.
"Yeah." Carol pushed the computer mouse around with her index finger and picked at the frayed edges of the mouse pad. "However you do it. Some sort of science thing with lab samples and test tubes?"
"No, not exactly- Don't touch that, Carol." She grabbed the back of the chair and wheeled it away from the computer console.
Carol was in full pout mode now, and when she stood and faced Elfnein nose to nose, Elfnein couldn't help but draw back. Carol's tempers now were nowhere near as bad as in the past, but Elfnein still remembered...
"I want to know where babies come from," said Carol. "Chris said that it's neat and that you could show me. I thought you wanted me to learn new things, Elfnein."
"I said it would be good for you to find a hobby!" And making babies was *not* the sort of hobby she'd had in mind for Carol.
"Why's your face so red? Why are you being so difficult today?"
"Um, l-look, Carol..." Elfnein took a deep breath. "Making babies... Chris was teasing you when she said that."
Carol's scowl deepened, getting uglier and more reminiscent of the past. "She just wanted me to look stupid in front of you."
That was probably true, but Elfnein didn't want to encourage discord. "N-no, she just wanted to make a joke, I'm sure."
"Tell me, Elfnein! If Chris thinks I shouldn't know, then I want to!"
"Carol, please, it's not import-"
Carol took a step forward closing the distance between them. Mixed in with the anger, Elfnein could see hurt, the knowledge that yet again something was being kept from Carol without Carol knowing why.
"C-can you back up?" Elfnein closed her eyes as she said this. She braced herself for any possible result, but when there was nothing but silence she cracked open her eyes a moment later and saw Carol standing a few feet away, looking less angry and more forlorn. "Thank you, Carol," said Elfnein, relief bringing a smile to her face.
"Will you tell me now?" Carol's voice was small again.
Elfnein felt drained though they'd only been speaking about this for a few minutes. Embarrassment had leaked away to be replaced by exhaustion. Nonetheless, she could feel her cheeks heating again when she said, "Sex."
"Huh?" Carol tipped her head to one side.
"S-sex, Carol. Babies come when a man and a woman engage in sexual intercourse."
"That doesn't make sense." Carol frowned. "Elfnein, don't lie to me."
"What?" She hadn't expected that reaction.
"When I asked Chris why Hibiki and Miku weren't around, she said they were probably making babies together."
Elfnein buried her face in her hands. "She- Carol, you know that Hibiki and Miku are girlfriends."
"Yeah."
"Well, um... Okay, sex is- It's how babies are made, but people do it for fun too."
"For fun?"
Carol's voice was closer. Elfnein raised her head to see that Carol had begun closing the distance between them, and Elfnein would be lying if she said that having Carol in such close proximity while discussing sex didn't bring up some intriguing possibilities.
"Yeah, for fun." She licked her lips, which had gotten quite dry. "Sexual intercourse is pleasurable for both parties. A-at least, according to what I've heard."
"Fun..." Carol glanced around the lab. "This isn't fun. It's boring watching you work all day."
"Carol?" The look in Carol's eyes was all too familiar, that of a headstrong toddler determined to get her way and quite assured that she would.
"Elfnein." Carol took her by the shoulders. "Everyone else gets to have fun while we're stuck in headquarters all the time. We should get to do fun stuff too."
"Carol, I-"
Carol pressed their lips together, banishing any of Elfnein's protests. Carol could be quite needy, but her passion was unmatched. Elfnein found it very hard to form any further arguments.
**may actually be incredibly angsty and focusing on the tragedy at the concert hall before the main action of the series
Suburban scenery blurred past the car window. The sun beat down on Miku's dark hair where she leaned against the window. At the next rest stop she'd have to switch to the other side of the car. She sighed to herself. The sound was drowned out by her dad's singing. Another five hours at least until they got to Miku's aunt's house, and he'd do this the whole way. Family rules (set down by Dad, of course) dictated no headphones on road trips, or Miku would have pulled up a Zwei Wing album on her mp3 player, the next best thing to being at the concert in person.
Hibiki would be there, at least. Maybe the concert would convert her to a Zwei Wing fan. That would make future concerts together even more fun.
Miku's dad kept singing, and it took the whole family a moment to realize that he was doing so without accompaniment. The radio had cut off mid-song, and as the Kohinata family fell silent they learned why.
"-site of today's Zwei Wing concert. The JSDF is establishing a perimeter and tending to the wounded, but we have no clear reports on the number of injured or deceased audience members. Citizens are encouraged to stay at home and avoid the concert district."
Miku's dad turned up the volume.
"We've received word that all Noise have been destroyed. There is no further cause for alarm, but the JSDF is shutting down the area around the concert hall to evacuate the wounded. Preliminary estimates-"
The phone rang, rang, rang... sent Miku to voicemail. She ended the call, redialed. The radio announcement was white noise now, not important compared to hearing Hibiki's voice.
The rational part of Miku knew that there were plenty of reasons Hibiki wouldn't be able to answer her phone now. She was too busy evacuating. The phone lines were overburdened. Her phone got dropped or lost or damaged or the volume was off, everything was fine, Hibiki's fine, please pick up!
Miku snapped her phone shut and sagged back against the car seat. She stared with betrayal at her phone.
"Miku?" Her mom's voice broke into her thoughts. "Are you- Were you able to get in touch with Hibiki-chan?" Mom was talking too gently, already knowing the answer. Miku opened her mouth to reply, but no words came. She shook her head.
Miku's mom turned to her dad. "What do you think? We're still closer to Tokyo than Morioka."
Miku leaned forward, gripping the backs of her parents' seats. "Please!"
Her dad nodded. "Nozomi will understand. We'll turn around next exit."
They were silent, listening to the updates on the radio. The casualty numbers kept being revised upwards, and with each new announcement Miku's stomach twisted. Her nerves were so tight that when her phone rang she dropped it and nearly kicked it under her mom's seat while scrambling to pick it up. She caught a glimpse of the caller as she sat up: Tachibana.
"Hibiki!" Miku blurted as soon as she had the phone open. "Are you-"
"Miku-chan?" The voice was familiar, but it was not Hibiki's.
"Oh. Auntie." A beat while she got over the disappointment. Then, remembering her priorities, "Is Hibiki-?"
"She's safe, right?" Hibiki's mother asked. "I couldn't reach Hibiki on her phone, but then she can be so careless, but you're a good girl, Miku-chan, so of course you took good care of her. I'm glad you're safe-"
"I- I'm not with Hibiki." The words hurt to say, cutting into Mrs. Tachibana's relief. "I had to go visit my aunt. Hibiki- Hibiki went by herself." The phone was sweaty in Miku's grip. "Then- you haven't heard anything from her either?"
Silence. Then, in a controlled voice, "No. So I'd better go. In case she's trying to call right now."
"Y-yeah." The tightness in Miku's chest made it hard to breathe. "Please tell me when you know anything."
"Of course. Good-bye, Miku-chan."
"Good-bye."
~~~~~
That was it. The drive back was a blur. Just awful droning reports from the radio and a silent cell phone. When the car pulled into the driveway, Miku got out and walked the couple blocks to the Tachibana house. Together with Hibiki's mom and grandma, Miku waited for news, anything.
The television was on, providing a low drone of grim updates. The casualty count was nearly five thousand by now, two hours after the event. No word about Hibiki yet. Of course, a voice whispered in the back of Miku's mind, if Hibiki had fallen victim to Noise, there wouldn't even be a body. Just a notice of "missing, presumed dead" and a lump of carbon indistinguishable from any other.
Hibiki's father came home late, his usually carefree face drawn and slightly red. Hibiki's mom got up and spoke to him; Miku caught the word "sake" in their whispered conversation. She couldn't blame him, she thought. Right now if she were old enough Miku would probably be drinking too.
Midnight came and went. Miku had secured permission to sleep over, and at Hibiki's grandma's urging, she eventually went to Hibiki's room to at least try to sleep.
The bedroom was too quiet. During past sleepovers Hibiki's soft breathing had kept the night from being too still. Now, surrounded by her best friend's things, Miku had no escape from the thought that Hibiki really could be dead. That this room, a familiar place of Miku's childhood, would be nothing more than a cold shell.
She cried herself to sleep on Hibiki's pillow.
~~~~~
The news, when it came, was good, but it was by no means an end to their suffering.
"They're doing everything they can," Hibiki's mother explained as the Tachibana family and Miku piled into the car. She glanced at Akira, who was fumbling with his keys, and Miku tell she was wondering if it was exhaustion or alcohol. Miku, in the back seat with Hibiki's grandmother, lay her head back and tried to clear her mind enough to doze. She needed to be awake and alert when they got to the hospital. Why? She didn't have an answer, but it felt like she'd be letting down Hibiki otherwise.
They couldn't see Hibiki when they arrived. She'd been in surgery for hours and had only recently been moved to the intensive care ward for recovery. More waiting, but this time with a bit more hope, although the doctor wouldn't say anything one way or the other.
Sitting on a padded waiting room chair, Miku clenched a fist over her breastbone. Metal shards near Hibiki's heart... Miku felt faint just thinking about how close she'd been to losing her friend. The doctor hadn't been able to hide his disbelief when telling them that she'd survived the surgery.
It was nearly three in the morning, but the waiting room was fairly full. Of course. Hibiki hadn't been the only one to be injured at the concert hall. The latest death toll had cleared seven thousand people and was steadily climbing as new bodies were uncovered and more people were reported missing and likely Noise victims.
It could have been Miku.
Maybe it should have been her. Not that she wanted to die, of course not, but the concert had been her idea. Hibiki was only hurt because she'd gone along with it. Miku should have been there too.
She ought to apologize. To Hibiki, to Hibiki's family. But wouldn't that seem selfish? Like Miku was putting her own feelings ahead of what Hibiki was going through?
Miku sighed, dropped her face into her hands. This was all too much. Her thoughts ran in circles, no answers to be found. She'd have to just do what felt right when she got the chance to see Hibiki. If she got the chance.
~~~~~
I'm alive The concert? It hurts. Noise? Make it stop. Miku? Mom? Bright...
Thoughts struggled to surface, fighting against waves of exhaustion. Overwhelming pain dragged her from sleep, growing in intensity until coherent thought couldn't exist save for a blind wish to die, to sleep, anything to deliver her from the white haze. Finally she'd drop back into heavy unconsciousness for more fitful rest, all too brief before the cycle repeated.
After an unknown amount of time the pain began to recede enough to think past it. Simple thoughts. It hurts. Where am I? Kanade... The concert. The Noise are gone? I'm alive.
She tried to open her eyes, but her lids were too heavy, and the room was bright enough as it was. Hibiki listened instead. Beeping, cloth rustling, metal clinking, wheels rattling in time with footsteps somewhere distant. The clean smell cutting into her nostrils just confirmed it. A hospital.
Right. Realizing this shook off some of her stupor. She was alive. Were her parents here? Was Miku? She wanted to know but opening her eyes was still too much effort. Speaking? No, her throat hurt. And her arms were trapped under piles of bricks. It wasn't important anyway, when she could sleep. Later then.
~~~~~
The world wasn't as bright when she next awoke, nor was it as noisy. Hibiki still felt like she hadn't slept enough - would she ever be rested again? - but she gathered the little strength she had and cracked open her eyes.
"Hibiki? You awake, kiddo?" His voice was to her right. Hibiki rolled her head a few degrees in that direction. Through still bleary eyes she saw her father, his usual carefree expression replaced by deep worry lines.
"Daddy?" The single word pushed past the ache in her throat.
"I'm right here, Hibiki." He patted her arm just above the elbow.
"What-" She couldn't finish. Tears rolled down Hibiki's cheeks, and every breath tore through her aching chest, causing her to cry harder, causing more pain.
"Shit," her dad mumbled. He reached for something beside the bed, and a chime sounded. "A nurse will be here soon, Hibiki." He grabbed a handful of tissues from the bedside and steadied her shoulder with his other hand. "Hang in there," he said, dabbing at her face. "Everything will be fine. You're gonna be fine. Dad's here for you."
Hibiki didn't have energy to cry for long. Drained, she barely noticed when the nurse arrived. She did notice the unpleasant coolness of something flowing into her arm through an IV; Hibiki squirmed half-heartedly, but it was so small compared to everything else, and shortly after she found it hard to care at all.
~~~~~
Every awakening got slightly easier. Hibiki remembered that she was in the hospital, and each breath no longer made her want to pass out.
She glanced to the side. No dad. No one at- Hibiki blinked, squinted at the end of the bed, and felt a smile form on her lips. She took a deep breath on instinct and regretted it, but the instinctive twitch of pain did what Hibiki had hoped to do. Miku, sitting in a chair next to the bed, her head resting on her arms down near Hibiki's feet, began to stir.
"Miku?" Her friends name came out in a croak, and Hibiki cleared her throat before trying again.
"H-Hibiki?" There was a brief moment of disbelieve before Miku dissolved into sobs. She dragged her chair closer to the head of Hibiki's bed and took Hibiki's hand in one of her own, the other busy dragging the sleeve of her sweater across her eyes to wipe away the tears that wouldn't stop flowing.
"Miku." Hibiki tried to clasp Miku's hand in both of hers, but her right arm twinged and resisted the attempt. Hibiki looked over. Besides the IV in the crook of her elbow, a thin white cast covered part of her forearm.
"Hairline fracture," said Miku in a muted voice, swallowing back tears. "You were really hurt, Hibiki. I- We were all so scared."
Hibiki closed her eyes. She remembered hurting her ankle and then getting hit in the chest... She must have banged her arm at some point too. Don't give up on living! "At least I'm alive," she offered. Hibiki squeezed the hand Miku held. "It's fine. Everything's fine."
This had, unfortunately, the opposite effect. Miku sagged, her whole body shaking with sobs so deep that Hibiki could hear her struggling to breathe. Hibiki watched in dismay, then slid her hand from Miku's so that she could pull her friend close in a one-armed hug. Even this simple gesture strained at her healing chest, but it was fine. Hibiki needed this closeness just as much as Miku.
She stroked Miku's hair as her friend's breathing grew calmer. "I'm sorry," Miku whispered, her voice muffled against Hibiki's side. "I'm so sorry, Hibiki."
"It's fine. I don't mind." She'd be at least this upset if it was Miku in her place. In fact... "I'm just glad you're safe."
Miku didn't respond, just let out a shuddering sigh. Hibiki remained silent as well, drowsy once again. Miku's hair was soft and warm under her fingers, a reminder of better days. Maybe everything wasn't fine just yet, but it would be. Don't give up on living. Hibiki had a promise to keep, after all. She wouldn't let Kanade's sacrifice go to waste.
Since my friends like it when I hurt them with words, have some hibimiku angst I wrote on a whim while waiting for my flight to Tokyo.
Her phone buzzed with the early alarm. Hibiki immediately fumbled to silence it before the vibrations could wake Miku on her other side. She sat up in bed and glanced around the dark, familiar bedroom. Her stomach twisted as her mind added for the last time. She couldn't bring herself to look at Miku just yet. Hibiki checked her messages, hoping that maybe Genjuro had called the whole thing off. No new messages.
Hibiki forced herself to breath. "It's fine," she murmured to herself, the familiar refrain a magic charm. Her fists clenched the bedsheets. She turned. Miku lay beside her, eyes closed, an errant lock of hair spilling over her face. The sight blurred; Hibiki blinked away tears as she tucked the hair behind Miku's ear.
"I'm sorry, Miku," she said just above a whisper. "I keep hurting you and breaking my promises. I wish-" She swallowed back the lump in her throat. "I'm sorry." She leaned over, let her lips press all too briefly against Miku's warm cheek. A tear dropped onto Miku's face, and Hibiki pulled back and brushed it away with a finger.
"You'll be fine, okay?" she said, her voice cracking. "Join the track team. Have a normal school life. Go on- go on dates. Just forget about me. I won't mind, as long as you're happy."
The words burned as she spoke them, but if Miku would hear them in her sleep and take them to heart, then Hibiki would bear through. It wouldn't matter how she felt a few hours from now anyway - which was good because right now she felt sick to her stomach.
Hibiki scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm scared," she let herself say in the softest whisper yet. As if in response, Miku shifted in her sleep.
It was time to go, before she lost her nerve, before Miku woke up. Hibiki brushed away any tears that might betray her and allowed herself to bestow one last soft kiss on Miku's cheek, drinking in the memory to fortify herself against later weakness. "Hey," she said, her lips only a few inches from Miku's ear. "I love you, okay, Miku? S-so thanks. For everything. Goodbye."
"Mm... Hibiki..." Miku shifted in her sleep. Hibiki froze until Miku stretched and turned over, still asleep.
"Goodbye," Hibiki said, and then she climbed out of the bed and off to face her destiny.
Have some gay girlfriends at Christmas! There may be a part two, but I might be mentally exhausted on this for a bit, so who knows? Please enjoy!
Night fell early in Tokyo in December, and by six o'clock Miku's apartment was aglow with lights to ward off the darkness. The television was on, Christmas specials playing at low volume. Miku hummed snatches of Christmas carols as she pulled a final batch of cookies out of the oven and settled them on cooling racks. She tidied the kitchen, casting frequent glances at the clock. Hibiki's flight had gotten into Japan an hour and a half ago, according to breathless phone call Miku had received from her girlfriend as soon as the plane had touched down. "Miku! I'm here! Japan, I mean! I'll be at your place soon, though! My phone's dead, so I'm on a payphone, so I can't-" There'd been a pause filled with Hibiki muttering under her breath and the clink of coins as she dropped more change into the phone. "I forgot to change money, too. Eheh. I'll have to do that on my way! I'll be quick, though, so see you soon! I l-" The phone clicked in Miku's ear as time ran out. She'd smiled to herself and returned to her baking.
Now the cookies were finished, now it was going on six-thirty, and now all there was left was waiting. She changed the channel. Moved her guitar from where it lay against the side of the armchair and took it back to her room. Checked and double-checked that Hibiki's gift was wrapped and stowed neatly beneath the tabletop Christmas tree in front of the window. She stole into the kitchen and helped herself to a sugar cookie, still soft in the middle, nibbling it as she watched the numbers on the digital stove clock tick over twice. She set a pot of coffee percolating. She checked the fridge. Low on cream. Another glance at the clock. There was a Lawson down the block, but Hibiki could be here any minute. They'd have to make do.
Miku was just setting out mugs when the doorbell rang. She dashed to answer, making a conscious effort to slow down when she reached it. Miku smoothed her sweater, realized she was still holding one of the empty coffee mugs. She glanced around and set it down on the front hall table next to a pile of unread mail. She opened her front door, and Hibiki barreled in, shedding luggage and throwing herself at Miku.
"Uwah! Mikuuu!" Strong, warm arms enveloped her. Hibiki's tawny hair brushed her face, and Miku smiled at the familiar, comfortable scent of Hibiki. "I'm so cold," Hibiki continued, speaking next to her ear. "I need my sunshine to warm me up!"
Miku smiled but put mock sternness into her voice. "You wouldn't be so cold if you let me close the door. Jeez."
Hibiki stretched out a foot behind her and shut the door with a lazy kick. "Better?" she asked, pulling back and beaming at Miku.
"Yeah." Miku darted a kiss to Hibiki's nose, viewing with satisfaction the stunned grin she got in reaction. She frowned. "Where's your coat?"
"Uh..." Hibiki tugged at the lapel of her suit jacket. "In my bag?"
"And why is that?" Miku crossed her arms over her chest. "It's two degrees outside!"
"It was fifteen in Rome when we left," mumbled Hibiki loosening her tie. "A-anyway, I'm perfectly warm now thanks to you!" The end of her sentence was lost in a jaw-cracking yawn that made Miku wince to see it.
"How long have you been awake?" Miku asked, retrieving the coffee mug from the hall table.
Hibiki started counting on her fingers and then gave up. "It was a twelve hour flight, so I slept a bit."
"Twelve hours! Do you want to take a nap?" Miku started for the kitchen.
Hibiki tagged along after her, shrugging out of her suit jacket. "I don't wanna waste any time with you."
Miku nodded. Hibiki left for Dubrovnik on the twenty-eighth, not even getting to spend the new year in Japan. "Still, you should sleep," she forced herself to say.
"I smell coffee!" Hibiki squeezed past Miku and grabbed the other coffee mug in one hand and the pot in the other. "I won't sleep until I have to!" she declared, grinning at Miku.
"Jeez... Take care of yourself, Hibiki," said Miku.
"I missed you," Hibiki said, giving Miku her best pout.
"I missed you too." Miku took the coffee pot from her girlfriend. "But you need to rest. So, um, let's both take a nap, okay?"
If Hibiki had a tail, it would have been wagging non-stop. "Aah, I've missed sleeping with Miku!" She grabbed Miku in another strong hug.
"C-careful! Let me-" Miku set the hot coffee pot down on the counter. Hibiki waited for her to do this and then scooped Miku up in a bridal carry.
Miku's housing allowance was generous, but even that much money didn't go very far in Tokyo. The bed crammed into the glorified closet of a bedroom was smaller than the one Miku and Hibiki had shared at Lydian; this was very obvious by how close the two of them were forced to sit once Hibiki had set Miku down gently and plopped down next to her with a contented sigh.
"Mm... Warm..." she murmured, leaning her head against Miku's shoulder.
"See, you're falling asleep already," Miku said, brushing errant bangs out of Hibiki's face.
"Eheh, I guess so," Hibiki answered with a grin. She tugged at the collar of her shirt. "My pajamas are still in my bags somewhere." She cast a long-suffering glance at the bedroom door.
"Don't be silly. You can just borrow something of mine." Miku went to the closet and pulled out a pair of track shorts and a faded t-shirt. She turned to toss them to Hibiki and paused; Hibiki was already unbuttoning her shirt. Hibiki caught Miku's eyes and ducked her head.
Miku held out the clothes. "Here." She turned away so Hibiki could change, but her mind held the image: Hibiki, shirt half-open, pale skin with that distinctive scar, her breasts still covered by a plain teal bra... Miku's face and ears felt like they might burst into flame.
It was strange to be so embarrassed when, while at school, they'd even bathed together without a second thought, but they hadn't been dating then. While at school, a glimpse of bare skin hadn't held the potential for something more. Miku bit her lip, starting to regret her insistence that Hibiki go straight to sleep.
Soft sounds of clothing rustling and hitting the floor. "Miku..." Miku turned to see Hibiki sprawled out on the bed cover and patting the spot next to her.
"All right. Move over, though. There's not much room." Hibiki squirmed towards the wall, and Miku laid down next to her only to be immediately trapped in a hug.
"I missed you." Hibiki's voice, low and serious next to her ear. Miku, spooned against Hibiki's chest, was silent. She'd missed Hibiki too, but Miku had been in Japan for the last half year, still with all of her friends, in her homeland. Hibiki had lost all that support when she'd agreed to the internship.
Swallowing back the impulse to cry, Miku clasped Hibiki's hands in her own. "I love you."
Silence. Miku waited, then, "Hibiki?" Soft, even breathing was her reply. Miku shifted to look over her shoulder. Asleep. Miku smiled to herself. "I told you you should rest," she murmured, snuggling close and getting ready to doze off herself.
Talking on Twitter about danger voices led to some spitballing about a scenario where there are evil versions of the geahs girls, and that in turn led to me writing some HibiMiku angst. This is a bit testing the waters, so please take this as it is and enjoy.
Hibiki brought her gauntlet up just in time to block her double's next punch, but the other Hibiki just grinned and crashed her other fist into Hibiki's unguarded belly. Hibiki reeled back, winded, and a punch to the jaw slammed her against the wall. Her head swam, and her limbs refused to cooperate.
"Hehe." Her own voice, like listening to a recording. "That was even easier than I thought. You let yourself be too weak. Just another reason why I'm more deserving of our life." The other Hibiki grinned. "Speaking of deserving..." She turned to Miku. "I've been waiting for this."
Miku's gaze darted between Hibiki collapsed on the ground and the other Hibiki who approached her. She balled up her fists. "L-let us go!"
Other Hibiki just grinned, grabbed Miku by the wrist, and pulled her forward for a rough kiss. Hibiki's stomach twisted at the sight, and she started to her feet, only for her head to whirl so violently that she sank back immediately. Concussion. But her own injuries were only important because they kept her from helping Miku. She clenched a helpless fist, unable to use her hand to protect her most precious person.
~~~~~
Miku pulled away, her lips tingling from the unfamiliar sensation. She'd hoped for a long time now to have her first kiss with Hibiki - but not like this. Tears blurred the edge of her vision as she slapped this other Hibiki - or tried to. One again the other Hibiki caught her by the wrist.
"What's wrong?" she asked, licking her lips. "Didn't you like that?" She pouted, a mockery of Hibiki's gentle expression.
"No! Not you! Let me go!" Miku glanced over her shoulder at where her own Hibiki lay, dazed and unmoving. Her heart pounded, and Miku strained to get away to check on her friend.
The other Hibiki used her free hand to turn Miku's head back to meet her eyes. "Don't worry about her. It's time for us to have some fun." She brushed the back of her hand across Miku's cheek and let her thumb trail over Miku's lips.
~~~~~
Hibiki's voice, Hibiki's hands. Everything was painfully familiar, and yet it wasn't Hibiki. Every time her body reacted to the insistent kisses and confident hands, Miku hated herself more. It was what she wanted and her worst nightmare at the same time. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, but still gasps and small moans slipped out.
Her blouse was open, her skin damp with sweat. Soft hands on her thighs. She tasted blood from her lip, felt the heat of tears on her cheeks. The clatter of boots on metal stairs snapped her attention away from this hell of betrayal, and the other Hibiki heard it too, pulling away from kissing Miku's collarbone to look in the direction of the door. Her eyes narrowed, an annoyed expression foreign to Hibiki settling on her brow.
Tsubasa was first into the room, bedraggled from previous battle but still in her Gear. She assessed the room, her usual frown intensifying when she saw Hibiki's crumpled form. Pity overtook her expression when she saw Miku, and Miku ducked her head. She almost wished no one had come, not when they'd see her like this.
~~~~~
"Tachibana? Hey, Tachibana. Wake up!"
She hadn't been asleep, had she? It was hard to focus, but Hibiki remembered enough, more than she wanted. Her other self assaulting Miku and making her cry. Stealing kisses and more. And Hibiki herself too weak to lift a hand to stop it. Even now her vision swam, but she remembered all too clearly Miku's cries and other sounds. Hibiki wanted to vomit, and it wasn't all because of the concussion.
Tsubasa was helping her to her feet but when Hibiki couldn't support her own weight, she scooped her into a bridal-style carry. "We'll get you to the medical wing," Tsubasa was saying. "All of the doubles escaped, damn them, but next time we won't let them get away."
Hibiki buried her face against her senpai's shoulder. Too much right now. Too much pain and guilt. She could hear Chris talking to Miku nearby, a non-stop flow of reassurances. Hibiki strained her ears but only caught a few mumbles of Miku's voice. Her mind called up Miku's cries from earlier, and guilt cut through Hibiki. Tsubasa warned her not to sleep - "You need to stay awake until the doctor can examine you" - but it was tempting to escape from this into unconsciousness. However she took a deep breath and muttered agreement to Tsubasa; staying awake and dealing with her failure to protect Miku was the least penance she could do.
I’m finally settled enough in Japan to start writing again, and I’ve been working on After the Fall a good bit. Got some more KyouSaya theatre AU in the back of my mind too, but we’ll see.
I’m curious if folks’d mind me posting Symphogear fic stuff here too. I fell into geahs hell recently, enough so to want to write fic for it, and I’m thinking I might use this blog for it. I don’t think I’ll write enough to merit a separate sideblog, and I don’t feel inclined to post on my main right now. What do y’all think?
For perhaps the fifth time in as many minutes Homura wondered just what the hell she was doing here. She glanced around the richly carpeted lobby of the campus cinema - a testament to the generosity of one obscenely wealthy alumnus - to check that Madoka was not yet among the students milling about.
"Calm down, transfer student," said Sayaka, clapping a hand on Homura's shoulder with an insufferably smug smirk. "You look like you're gonna have a heart attack."
Homura shot her a black look. She couldn't remember if Miki Sayaka had ever known about her heart condition or if the remark had just been in general poor taste. With thumb and index finger she peeled away Sayaka's hand. "I'm understandably nervous. I'm following your advice, after all."
Sayaka ignored the low quality bait. "Look, relax, all right? Everything's gonna be fine. You just have to be your charming self and not do anything creepy. And, seriously, I think you can do it." Her cocky grin softened into a more genuine smile. "I've actually kind of... Well, hanging out with you lately hasn't been too awful."
"High praise," said Homura. "I suppose the feeling is mutual."
"Just don't think too hard, and you won't screw things up. Oh!" She shoved a hand into her pants pocket. "Before I forget, I got you something. Call it a good luck gift."
This was unexpected. Sayaka had come along tonight because she needed to facilitate the date, but a gift, even a small one, was beyond what was necessary. Homura felt almost inclined to smile at the small flame of begrudging affection that kindled within her towards the other woman.
"Here ya go." Sayaka pressed a small metal object, warm from her pocket, into Homura's hand. "Go get 'er, champ."
Homura examined the nail clippers. What on earth did Miki Sayaka expect her to do with these?
A muffled snicker drew her eyes back to her companion. Sayaka was clearly struggling to maintain a straight face.
"What-?"
Sayaka raised her eyebrows and grinned, wiggling her fingers as well. Homura watched, glanced down at her fingernails, and felt her face and ears get hot as the meaning clicked.
"I- We're not- Miki Sayaka, it's only the first date-! And I wouldn't- That's just-"
Sayaka abandoned any attempts at innocents and was holding her stomach as she sniggered at Homura's reaction. "Oh man, Homura, you're killing me."
"Tempting," Homura snapped. She held the nail clippers out to Sayaka; she certainly wasn't going to keep them!
"It was just a joke," said Sayaka, tucking the nail clippers back away with an unrepentant smile. "Although you probably could benefit from getting laid."
"If you like your memories where they are, you'll drop that thought," said Homura. She sighed. "I'll settle for just seeing her again. You had a point. As long as she's happy, that's what matters."
"Then now's your chance," Sayaka said, glancing at something - someone - over Homura's shoulder. "There you are! Right on time, Madoka!"
Homura drew a quick breath and settled her features. The first time in five years. Do it for her, as ever, as always.
Part 2 of ??? because I was on a writing roll tonight
Call for rehearsal that day was at noon. Mami had broken the news to them about Abe-san in a brief company meeting but she'd reassured them that they had a competent replacement. "I know you've all seen Sakura-san sitting in on rehearsals and working with Akemi-san on our lights. Well, she'll be filling in for us as our new Audrey!"
The response was lukewarm from most of the cast. A lighting designer taking the lead role? Well, it wasn't unheard of for a techie to also act. They'd trust Mami-san's judgment. Sayaka, though, was less than reassured. "You're gonna bring in someone completely new who doesn't even act?"
Mami didn't bat an eye. "Sakura-san can more than handle the role. I, ah, heard something of her abilities. Call it an informal audition, if you will. Besides, Miki-san, do we really have any other choice?"
"I guess not." Sayaka crossed her arms over her chest. This was her big break, a leading role in a popular musical. A real paying gig. A step up from the community theatre, from strictly straight plays, comedies. Sayaka was nervous enough as it was. The last thing she needed was some greenhorn making things difficult. But... If there was no other choice... "All right. So where is she?"
"Ah..." For once the director looked less than perfectly composed. "You see, Sakura-san was here overnight working, so she's at home sleeping right now."
"Then how are we supposed to rehearse?" asked Hitomi, who was playing Ronette.
"We can run numbers without Audrey for now," Mami said. "Kamijou-san, please run through 'Ya Never Know' with the girls and Seymour. I've noticed the harmonies have been shaky."
At least rehearsal wouldn't be a total waste of time today. They worked for four hours, mainly on music and blocking during the numbers, then broke for an early dinner before doing a run in the evening. When Sayaka and the others got back to the theatre at five, they found Mami talking with a grumpy-looking redhead.
"Miki-san, may I speak with you?"
Sayaka trotted over to Mami and the person she supposed was Sakura. She nodded at the other women, who responded with a grunt.
"Miki-san, this is Sakura Kyouko, our lighting designer and new Audrey!" Mami's smile would have stood firm under artillery fire. "Sakura-san, Miki Sayaka will be your Seymour. She'll help you learn your lines and your blocking."
"Ain't that what the stage manager's for?" Kyouko grumbled, taking the words out of Sayaka's mouth.
"Akemi-san is going to have to fill in for some of your technical duties," said Mami. "Do you really want to ask her to take on even more work?"
Sayaka caught Kyouko's slight shudder as she answered, "Nah, I guess not. All right. So what now?"
"You know your part for 'Skid Row,' I believe," Mami said with a smile. Kyouko went red. "Then we'll run through the first scene leading up to that. It's very simple, so you should ge the blocking down easily enough. We'll go straight into the song and try to continue the run from there with as little interruption as possible except to give you any blocking notes you need."
"Sounds good to me," said Sayaka, chafing to get onstage. "Let's go already." She headed for the stage. Kyouko followed her like a storm cloud, script in hand.
Once they started the scene, Sayaka had to give Kyouko at least a little credit. She made her entrance, exchanging simple lines with the actor playing Mushnik, perfectly capturing the sheepishness of Audrey in the first scene. The blocking was simple enough, a few crosses and bits of business that Kyouko could easily perform as Mami called them to her in a soft voice.
Sayaka made her entrance, faking a trip to send flying the tray of plants she carried. She scrambled to pick them up as Kyouko delivered her line with a mix of sympathy and indignance: "Don't yell at Seymour, Mr. Mushnik."
Time to act. Sayaka glanced up from replacing the plants in their tray. "Hi, Audrey - you look radiant today." A pause for Seymour to notice the black eye Audrey sported. "Is that new eye makeup?" Delivered cluelessly, without guile. Seymour really is that much of a dork.
Kyouko turned away, moving to grab the broom set upstage right. "I'll clean it up before any of the customers get here." Decent delivery, but she wasn't really projecting. Sayaka, onstage with her, couldn't hear very well. No doubt Mami would give a note about it, though.
Sayaka and Kyouko were done for now. They moved silently through the business of cleaning up the flower shop, Sayaka guiding her new leading lady through the simple background acting with subtle gesture, as Mushnik and the urchin girls exhanged lines and segued into song.
Kyousuke hit the beginning notes on the rehearsal piano, and the young woman playing Crystal launched into the few opening a cappella notes before the accompaniment rejoined her. Turned upstage in her pantomime cleaning, Sayaka allowed herself a smile. Everyone was really coming together in the last few days. Aside from their Audrey troubles, the cast was solid.
"That's when you go downtown-"
Nothing. Kyouko, as Audrey, had exited the shop, as Sayaka had gestured for her to do, but when she opened her mouth- Nothing. Kyousuke played a few more bars, the ensemble chimed in with a few more "downtown"s as Kyouko's face grew as red as her hair, but Mami called a halt before Sayaka's part came.
"Is something wrong, Sakura-san?" she asked from her seat in the audience. "Do you need Kamijou-san to review how your part goes?"
"N-no..." Kyouko mumbled, clutching her script white-knuckled. "I just... Ah... C-can we try that again?"
Sayaka squeezed her eyes shut and balled her fists at her sides. Stage fright. Of freakin' course.
"Why don't we just sing through it once, no blocking?" Kyousuke suggested, half to Mami, half to the rest of them.
"That's fine," Hitomi said. She gave Kyouko a smile. "I'm sure it's overwhelming for you, Sakura-san. Just take it easy."
Kyouko managed a weak smile in return. What was supposed to be a full run turned into an extended music rehearsal, and by the time Mami called an end to rehearsal a little after nine, everyone was exhausted and in lower spirits than when they'd started.
"Miki-san, Sakura-san!" Mami called them both over to her. Homura lurked at Mami's shoulder, her blacks complementing the dark circles under her eyes.
"That was a very good first rehearsal, Sakura-san," Mami said with what Sayaka could tell was false cheer. "I'm sure you'll be even more comfortable tomorrow."
Sayaka couldn't hold back a loud snort. The others' heads whipped around to look at her. Kyouko's embarrassed glower skewered Sayaka. "You got a problem with me, Miki?" she snapped.
Easy, Sayaka, she told herself. "I'm just worried about the show."
"Damn rude way to show it," Kyouko said with more than a hint of a growl in her voice. "I'm doin' my best. And yer no prize either."
"Excuse me?" Her voice rose. "I got more role fair and square."
"Like I cheated or somethin'?" Kyouko was inches away from Sayaka's face. One of her canine teeth was unusually fang-like. What the hell? Sayaka stumbled over her response. "L-look, I'm just saying-"
"Not like I wanted to do this in the first place, hotshot." A definite snarl in her voice. Sayaka could smell garlic and beer, probably dinner from the pizza joint across the street. "But I need this paycheck, and I'm gonna do my best. So I don't need some tone-deaf drama queen-"
"What did you call me?" She jolted towards Kyouko so quickly that their foreheads knocked together. Kyouko staggered a few steps back and rubbed her forehead, still glaring daggers.
"Tone-deaf drama queen," Kyouko bit out. "You heard me."
So maybe she wasn't the best singer! Damn this girl for zoning in on that on her first shot. "At least people can hear me! You-!"
"That's enough." Homura's deadpan voice descended through Sayaka's fog of rage the same time Homura's hand clamped on her collar. Kyouko was still standing close enough for Homura to collar her as well. "You two can both stand to improve. Until you've achieved perfection, please keep all your bitching to yourselves." A small but none-too-gentle shake. "Am I understood?" They both nodded.
"Thank you, Akemi-san," said Mami. "Please understand that you both will need to at least be civil until we finish our run. The cast, and our entire company, are depending on you two."
"Yeah, I get it," Kyouko grumbled.
Homura gave Sayaka another shake. "Fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "Sorry, Mami-san."
"It's all right," she replied, her smile back as though it had never left. "I know call is at noon again tomorrow, but perhaps the two of you may want to meet before then to run lines." The steel behind her smile made it clear that this was not a suggestion.
Sayaka exchanged a glance with Kyouko. A truce, they agreed without words. "Meet at the cafe," Kyouko jerked her head in the general direction of the corner coffee shop, "at nine?"
Sayaka ground her teeth but nodded. "Yeah. See you then. Better be close to off book by then."
Kyouko's expression grew mulish. "Just watch me."
"Oh, I will be," Sayaka shot back.
Homura shook each of them by the collar again before letting go. "Do what you need to do, children. Just don't let this get in the way of our production. Kyouko, I'll need you lighting plots when you get in tomorrow."
"Yeah, sure, lemme just write that down."
Sayaka turned away and gathered her stuff while the others reviewed the technical matters. She wasn't happy about the fate of her musical theatre debut resting in that jerk's control, but she'd bite her tongue and work with Sakura Kyouko if she had to. She just hoped that her self-control would hold through until closing night.
"You want me to what?" Kyouko couldn't keep the yawn out of her voice. She rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe away the exhaustion that blurred her vision. Two all-nighters in a row, the occasional hour-long catnap on the costume shop floor in a makeshift bed of period dresses, fiddling with lights, colors, instruments, and a finnicky lighting console from the 80s that should have been retired at least a decade ago. Now she stood at the threshold of the crummy little blackbox belonging to the theatre company that had hired her three weeks ago, her boss the last barrier between her, the blindingly bright morning, and her bed.
"Well, I couldn't help overhearing you and Akemi-san just now," said Tomoe Mami, the director of the little theatre company. She stood in the doorway, Starbucks in hand, her signature tote bag over her shoulder stuffed with binders and papers, the tools of her trade. "I know that Homura isn't too bad at singing-" the equally exhausted TD hovering near Kyouko's shoulder let out a snort at this "- but you, Sakura-san, are something else. Whyever are you working as a technician and not an actress?"
This again. Kyouko'd gotten the same reaction any time folks at uni had heard her sing at cast parties or karaoke. "'Cause I like tech and don't like acting. What's your point?"
"Eheh." Mami had the good grace to look sheepish. "My point. Yes. Well, you see... I received a phone call from Abe-san a few hours ago-" that'd make it around three in the morning, Kyouko calculated "- and she- Ah, well, I'm afraid it's not in our budget to put up enough bail for her, and so-"
Homura's groan had more than a little of a whimper in it. "She was our Audrey. We can't stage Little Shop of Horrors without an Audrey."
"Akemi-san grasps the difficulty," Mami said to Kyouko. "We begin tech in two days' time. That's simply not enough time to have cold auditions for a new lead."
"Wait..." Even through her exhaustion Kyouko could figure out where this was going. "Hell no. I'm not an actress. I ain't equity. Pretty sure you can't make me do this."
"I would never try to force you, Sakura-san," Mami said with a slight pout. "But if this show flops, our company will not be able to survive. And you would be out of a job as well."
"Look, I don't act, all right?" Kyouko crossed her arms over her chest. "How'm I supposed to be ready for opening in a week?"
"You have attended most of the rehearsals with me," Homura said, tapping her chin. "And if you were paying attention, you should be somewhat familiar with the blocking." This was true. In order to plan her lighting plot, Kyouko had to know the basic blocking for the scenes. And the songs, at least, were stuck in her head from having the soundtrack on repeat during lighting hangs. She and Homura had been singing along for the past several hours in order to keep up their spirits as they worked to the dawn.
"Please, Sakura-san?" Mami reached the hand without her coffee to grasp one of Kyouko's. "We'll pay you your regular salary, plus Abe-san's as well. And everyone will work with you to get you caught up."
Two salaries was extremely tempting. Even though techs made a better living than some people in the theatre profession, Kyouko wasn't exactly sitting in the lap of luxury. An extra check would go a long way towards bills and upgrading her PC. And there were union dues and some new CAD software and that craft beer festival... "Yeah, okay, whatever," Kyouko mumbled. "I'll do it, I guess. Just a two week run, right? And then no more acting, got it? You can't use this against me in the future."
"I wouldn't dream of it!" Mami said. Homura let out a small snort.
"All right, all right." Kyouko pulled her hand away from Mami's. "But I get to sleep now. I'll come in later when I'm not dead."
"Of course," Mami purred, all solicitous now that the deal had been struck. "I'll speak with Miki-san about the two of you rehearsing. She'll be your Seymour."
Ugh. Kyouko had forgotten that she'd have to act opposite that oaf. Miki Sayaka, the tone-deaf wonder, the only person, guy or girl, who had the stage presence for the male lead. It said something about the drought of acting talent in the area. Kyouko nearly revoked her agreement then and there. Even when not on her last nerve from exhaustion, Kyouko found the other woman pretty damn irritating with her peppy, authoritative demeanor. You owe me big time, Tomoe Mami, was all Kyouko could think as she went home to finally get some rest.
New chapter! Finally! I agonized over this puppy, but I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out. Thanks to sailortentacle and lynx-you-fucking-nerd and everyone else who gave me help with fixing my dozens of footnotes.
This is, as the title states, not the first chapter, so if you’ve not read the previous installments, they’re tagged as “after the fall” on this blog. For those of you just joining us, this is my take on a post-Rebellion story, set several years in the future, and full of Homu angst and Sayaka being cool. Please enjoy!
(Oh, and I’m pretty confident I caught most, if not all, little errors, but if something slipped by me, just send me an ask so I can fix it! Thanks!)
The rain held off until Homura arrived home. Her thoughts were in turmoil, but for all that her loathing wasn’t enough to wish the inconvenience of being drenched upon herself. Selfish, no doubt, but shouldn’t the scope of her punishment be grander than such a mundane inconvenience anyway?
Her punishment. That’s all life was for Homura now. She paused at the gate leading to her home. Her crypt. A western-style mansion, Victorian and decrepit, stared down at her, its boarded windows forming a judgmental face. Had it always existed in Mitakihara, or had Homura’s will created it to cater to her whim? She wasn’t sure. Even now the full extent of her powers was not clear. Homura had never tried to test her boundaries, though. She’d not sought power for its own sake. If she could keep Madoka safe, assure her beloved’s happiness in a normal life, and give her other friends the chance at that same happiness, well, that was more than enough for Homura. These things could be achieved by manipulating reality around her, but Homura kept her workings small-scale for the most part.
The mundane minutiae surrounding acquiring and moving into the new house were easily managed by fudging reality so it accommodated Homura’s needs. Ask her how she did it, and the answer would be a blank stare. It was a matter of will power. The process itself was unimportant.
The mansion was large, but Homura did not live there alone. Or perhaps she did, for the Claras were facets of herself, reflecting her inadequacies. Homura was not entirely sure about their nature either. The girls were her familiars, which implied that they served her, but more often than not they were too willful for that, preferring to scorn Homura according to their individual natures. The Clara Dolls were inscrutable to their mistress, sometimes crowding around, other times vanishing according to their whims. It was rather like living in a haunted house, except no ghost could be worse than Homura.
That night the girls were all home, having beaten Homura back from the café.
“You’ve only caused more trouble for yourself and for others,” said Nekura, clucking her tongue.
“You’re not going to meet her, of course,” Noroma said. “You’re too much of a coward to face her again of your own free will.”
Sayaka? Or Madoka? Homura winced to even think the latter’s name. She didn’t answer the girls. She slipped off her shoes and made her way to her study to put away her books.
The girls followed. “She doesn’t actually want to see you, obviously,” said Higami. “She just wants to convince you to change everything back. Then she and Madoka can go back to the Law of Cycles.”
“Without you, of course,” said Reiketsu. “Why would Madoka want you now? You’re too evil to be worthy of her love.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that,” Homura said stiffly. She arranged her belongings on her desk, shuffling her books back and forth. She made a few false tries before she could fit the power cord into the laptop to charge it.
“Even if Madoka was willing to forgive you, you know deep down you couldn’t accept that forgiveness because it would be admitting that you were wrong,” Ibari said with a haughty sniff.
“Maybe I am wrong,” said Homura, turning to the gaggle of red-eyed dolls. They merely giggled and exchanged looks. Homura’s shoulders sagged. She wasn’t wrong. This choice had been the best one possible. Anything else would have led to Madoka’s continued non-existence except as a concept – right up until when the Incubators took control of the Law of Cycles.
“All thanks to what you told them,” said Warukuchi.
“You know I regret that.” She let her fist drop heavily onto the desk, a thud that held within its single sound all of the anger and self-loathing that roiled inside her. Everything came down to the choices she’d made. An ill thought out wish, taking an Incubator into her confidence in a moment of loneliness, distancing herself from Madoka forever…
“You really can’t do anything right,” said Noroma with a theatrical sigh.
“Shut up.” Knowing that the girls were part of her, manifestations of her emotions, didn’t help and often made things worse. It was brutal self-honesty in its most visceral form.
“Why are we concerning ourselves with such a failure?” Namake lurked in the doorway of Homura’s study. “We could be doing anything else. Anything would be better than wasting our time in her presence.”
“Go, then,” said Homura, forcing herself to speak lightly. “I don’t need you. You’re disturbing me.”
The Clara Dolls tittered and withdrew. Homura was left alone in the windowless room. Its high walls, lined with bookshelves, seemed to draw in on her. The mock gas lamps in their wall sconces, added by the previous owner to give a period flair to the place, did little to actually illuminate the room, instead merely giving it atmospheric shadows.
Atmospheric. Dramatic. Melodramatic. Homura sighed. The distance of years had allowed her to gain a sardonic sense of humor in regards to her own behavior. What a histrionic child she had been. And, on reflection, she hadn’t lost that trait; she’d merely become able to recognize it, the better to mock herself with running commentary.
Well, if she hadn’t managed to change in six years, there was no pointing in trying to start now. She’d changed enough in eight years. Though it was hard to imagine that she could become worse, why tempt fate? That had never worked for her in the past.
The next day arrived. Three o’clock came and went. Homura attended her lecture and went home. She studied diligently and cooked curry rice badly. She studied some more, did some cleaning around the house. She made a pot of tea and put on a movie. One of her small allowances was letting herself understand whatever language movies were originally filmed in. You couldn’t fully appreciate a film if you were constantly distracted by subtitles.
The day after next was similarly uneventful.
The third day after her meeting with Miki Sayaka Homura once again found herself face to face with the other woman. Sayaka ambushed Homura after her microbiology lecture. “You were expecting to be left alone? Too bad, it’s Sayaka!”
“My joy knows no bounds,” said Homura. “I should have known you would try something like this.”
“It’s not exactly a clever plan,” Sayaka said, rolling her eyes. “I just waited for you. Shouldn’t have stood me up the other day, y’know.”
“I never fail to disappoint.” Homura adjusted the strap of her laptop bag on her shoulder. “I assume you have waylaid me to some end, so out with it. I need to get home to study.”
“We were supposed to get coffee,” said Sayaka.
“No.”
“Don’t be a spoilsport.” Sayaka’s hand clamped down on Homura’s arm. “Let’s go.” She tugged.
Homura allowed herself to be pulled along. “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish.”
“Neither do I. Let’s wing it.”
Sayaka chose a different coffee place on the other end of campus from last time. It was a hole in the wall joint run by an old woman and inhabited by artsy types for whom the threadbare atmosphere must have been inspiring.
Over coffee that tasted like boiled tar, Sayaka stared down Homura.
She cracked. “What?”
Sayaka shrugged. “Dunno. Like I said, I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
“Perhaps you were going to propose that I return everything to normal,” suggested Homura.
Sayaka was silent. She took a sip of coffee and grimaced as she swallowed. “What’s normal, Homura? We’ve been living in this world for longer than any of us had been magical girls.” She noticed something in Homura’s gaze and added, “Present company excepted, of course. Another year and I’ll have been in this world for a whole third of my life. That’s… that’s not something you just change back.”
“Do you like it here, Sayaka? Have I done well by you?” Homura savored the pitchy flavor as she swilled the liquid in her mouth before swallowing. Coffee was not supposed to taste like this, but there was something perversely attractive about the sensation.
“Yeah. That’s the thing. I do like it.” Every word cost her, Homura could hear it. “I have my family and my friends and Kyouko. I got to have a normal high school life, and I’m studying something I enjoy. I’m going to make a difference in the world not through some improbable wish but through my work helping people. The Law of Cycles… It’s a noble thing, truly a job worth doing, but…” Homura raised an eyebrow as Sayaka paused, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup and staring into it as though hoping to divine the right words to say from the dregs. “But I can do good here, and still have a normal life. Damn you, Homura.”
“I already am,” said Homura.
Sayaka glared at her. “Can you just drop the tortured devil persona? It’s really damn irritating.”
“What do you want me to say?” Homura put a hand to her forehead. “If you don’t want me to return her powers to her, then what do you want from me?”
“I don’t know-”
“Stop saying that!” Homura pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re doing nothing but bothering me. I know I deserve this, but must you torture me, Miki Sayaka?”
“Homura.” Sayaka’s tone held a note of rebuke. Homura fell silent and drank some more of her tar to give herself something to do so that she wouldn’t snap and further berate the other woman. Sayaka was being rather accommodating, all things considered, as annoying as her presence was, and Homura did not want to inspire her to regress to an antagonist.
“Homura.” This time it was more of a sigh, and Sayaka gave her a rueful smile before continuing. “Look, like I was saying, I don’t know what I want from you, but I don’t hate you anymore, okay? And you’re important to Madoka-”
“She has forgotten about me,” Homura cut in. “That is as it should be. She has a happy life, and she doesn’t need me around to hurt her.”
“Someone’s defensive,” Sayaka said with a smirk. “You’re important to her, and if she knew you were such a mess, she’d be really sad.”
“Then it’s good that she doesn’t know.”
“But I know, and Madoka’s my best friend, so for her sake, I want to help you, idiot.”
It was apparently impossible for Sayaka to quash her arrogance entirely for too long. Homura clenched her teeth. “I don’t need your help,” she responded, taking another sip of coffee. “What could you do? You have no power over me.”
“Yeah, but I know how to act like a normal human being.”
That smirk again. Homura narrowed her eyes. “I never liked you, you know.”
“Yeah, I do.” Sayaka rolled her eyes. “And it’s mutual. Just because I don’t hate you doesn’t mean you’re not an irritating ass.”
“I’ll thank you not to insult me if you actually want to help me.” Homura paused. “Not that you can help me. Or that I want you to.”
“Just leave it to me.” Sayaka swirled her coffee sluggishly in her cup. “You really need to move on, Homura. This isn’t healthy.”
“When have I ever been?” Her hand drifted up to lay lightly over her heart. “I am broken, Sayaka.”
“Then lemme help fix you.” Homura could hear the other girls’ frustration leaking out. “You can’t keep up like this forever.”
“I have done so for this long. I’ve done so for far longer.”
“And look what happened. Damn it, Homura.” Sayaka shook her head. “Stop being so stubborn and accept someone’s help for once.”
Homura sighed. Rest would be nice, but she could never enjoy it because always she would know she didn’t deserve anything but punishment. But, and perhaps she was just looking for excuses, Homura knew quite well that Sayaka wouldn’t give up on this idea now that she’d gotten it into her head.
“Will you not take no for an answer?” she finally responded.
“Nope,” replied Sayaka.
“I could force you, of course.”
Sayaka met her eyes. “But you wouldn’t,” she said after a long look.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Just come have a drink with me, okay?”
Homura gestured to their coffee cups.
“Not that kind of drink.” Sayaka grinned. “I wanna see you loosen up for once.”
“I’m not yet twenty.”
“Like you can’t get around that. Come on, Homura.”
Sayaka’s grating jocularity was back. Deciding that this was a battle not worth fighting, Homura assented. “Very well. Lay out your plans.”
Sayaka pulled out her phone. “Okay, what’s your number?” Seeing Homura’s look, she added, “I can’t go out drinking tonight. I’ve got an early class tomorrow. So I’ll call you to make plans.”
The tittering of the Clara Dolls filled the back of her mind as Homura dutifully recited her phone number. The hissing of her earcuff brought their commentary to her in a constant stream. Homura wanted to yank the thing off, but the gem on the end held Madoka’s power and was too precious to throw away.
“Just look at her presumption, thinking that anyone would actually enjoy her company!”
“Why must she always trouble others with her presence?”
“It’s just in the nature of our worthless mistress to do so.”
“Shut up,” Homura muttered under her breath.
“Huh?” Sayaka looked up from punching Homura’s number into her phone.
“It’s nothing,” said Homura, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, a gesture that set the gem on the end of her ear cuff swaying slightly.
Sayaka gave her a long look, but then she shrugged and put away her phone. “All right. So I’ll call you, okay? Be sure to answer.”
“I will,” said Homura, “if only to avoid the barrage of messages I’ll undoubtedly get if I don’t.”
Sayaka chuckled. “Now you’re getting how this works.”
Homura wanted to quip something in return, but Sayaka was in a mood where she couldn’t let Homura have the last word. Homura remained silent, just exhaled through her nose in something short of a snort.
“All right, Homura, I’ll catch you later.” Sayaka finished her coffee and took her leave, cutting a jaunty figure with her school bag slung over one shoulder, her short ponytail bobbing with every step. Sayaka had certainly blossomed in her carefree adolescence.
“Congratulations, Homura,” she murmured to herself. “You saved everyone but yourself.”
“As it should be,” one of the Clara Dolls opined in her ear, and Homura nodded.
“As it should be.”
~~~~~
Several days passed before Sayaka called. She kept the conversation brief and business-like, perhaps not wanting to give Homura a chance to object to the plan. Sayaka laid out the time and place, advised Homura on what to wear and what sort of atmosphere to expect, and then hung up, leaving Homura feeling as though a whirlwind had ripped through her placid expectations for her Friday night. There was nothing for it but to go, since unless Homura erased Sayaka’s memories again, the other woman would keep badgering her until Homura gave in.
“And why not erase her memories?” asked Reiketsu.
Homura stood in front of her bedroom mirror, studying the outfit she’d chosen. “She’s not causing any trouble at the moment.”
“You’re going through with this farce,” said Usotsuki. “It would be less trouble to make her forget.”
The deep purple sweater and conservative black skirt paired well. Homura picked up her hair brush. “Perhaps. But- That’s a bit harsh.”
Ibari stood on tiptoe behind Homura so she could see herself in the mirror. The Clara Doll patted her coiffure as she said, “You’re lying to us, and you know it.”
“I am not-”
“You’re not,” agreed Usotsuki. “Because you can’t lie to us, or to yourself. You know how pathetic you are and how much you want to see Sayaka.”
“Hmph.” Ibari took the hairbrush from Homura’s unresisting hand. “What weakness, to derive happiness from your enemies. Pathetic.”
“Coward,” sang Okubyou, sitting on Homura’s bed and kicking her legs up and down. “What a coward, unable to let go of her attachments.”
“You don’t deserve to go out,” said Reiketsu. “Just stay here until she gives up on you.”
“Miki Sayaka is too stubborn for that.” Homura snatched back her hairbrush with a glare at her familiar. Ibari merely smiled disdainfully. “She will try to track me down.”
“She wouldn’t be able to find you if you truly wanted to hide,” Okubyou giggled. “You’re too weak to resist your own pathetic desires.”
“Well, go then,” sniffed Ibari. “If our foolish mistress wants to be her own downfall, then why should we try to stop her?”
Tittering, the other dolls joined her and left the room. Their words still echoed in Homura’s ears thanks to her earcuff, transmitting everything like a badly-tuned radio.
Homura’s knuckles were white from gripping her brush. She forced herself to relax, to take a few deep breaths. She was going to see Sayaka. Maybe it was weakness. Maybe it was a luxury, a relief she didn’t truly deserve. But this wasn’t something truly enjoyable. It would be fraught with annoyance.
“What a fool our mistress is, lying to herself,” one of the voices hissed.
It was a lie. Homura placed a hand to her temple. She was weakening now, after so many years. Any time her resolve had weakened in the past, Homura had ended up hurting Madoka. Could she let herself do so again? It wasn’t worth the risk.
Her phone chirped on her nightstand. Blinking, Homura shook herself out of her daze and picked it up. There was a mail message from Sayaka. “See you at seven, transfer student! Don’t be late, or I’ll kick your ass!” There followed an idiotic emoji of a grinning ninja.
“Miki Sayaka, you really are an idiot,” Homura murmured, but the corner of her lip quirked up. It was predictable idiocy, and comforting in its familiarity. Her eyes skimmed the message again. Just this once… Perhaps seeing Sayaka would firm Homura’s resolve not to betray Madoka again. A Clara giggled in the back of her mind, but Homura forced herself to ignore the sound and went to finish her preparations.
The bar Sayaka had selected for them was a small establishment that Homura passed every day as she walked to class. She’d never taken much note of the place, but assessing it now she gave quiet approval to its aesthetic. The clientele whom she could see through the large bay window at the front were dressed nicely, mostly businessmen and women relaxing after a long day. The atmosphere was far from somber, but it lacked the rowdiness that characterized favorite university watering holes. Sayaka had chosen wisely. The two of them would be able to have a dignified, adult conversation without interruptions.
“Nice to see your sense of timing hasn’t failed, Homura.” Sayaka greeted her as Homura entered the bar. “Seven o’clock on the dot!”
Homura didn’t reply. She was too busy staring down the redhead who slouched on the bar stool next to Sayaka, chugging a tall glass of something while not breaking eye contact with Homura. Finishing her drink, Kyouko let the glass thump heavily to the counter. “So, this who you’re meetin’, Sayaka?” she asked.
Sayaka rolled her eyes. “Yes. Just someone from school. Jeez, Kyouko.”
“Hm…” Kyouko narrowed her eyes. “So introduce us already, yeah?”
Homura wanted to handle this on her own terms. “Akemi Homura. We’ve met before, if you remember.”
“Waaaait.” Kyouko held up one hand towards Homura in a “stop” gesture and with the other motioned for the bartender to get her a refill. “Akemi Homura… Ice Queen Akemi? That’s you?”
Homura allowed herself a slightly theatrical sigh. “If you are referring to that juvenile nickname from middle school, yes, that would be me.”
“Damn. Never thought I’d see you again.” Glancing over her shoulder at Sayaka, Kyouko went on, “And since when’re you two so buddy-buddy, huh? Thought ya used to hate her, Sayaka?”
Sayaka flinched and avoided Homura’s eyes as she answered, “Ah, you know, that was kid stuff. We’re both adults now, and we ran into each other the other day and wanted to catch up.”
“Hmmmm…” Kyouko glanced between the two of them. The bartender set down her new drink, and Kyouko picked it up and drained half the glass. “Well, whatever. I got class. You kids have fun.”
“Your class started an hour ago,” Sayaka said, narrowing her eyes.
“He doesn’t care about attendance as long as I get the work done,” said Kyouko with a dismissive wave. She took another hearty sip and then belched. “Anyway, I’ll leave you two alone. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said, smirking at Sayaka.
Sayaka shoved her on the shoulder. “Get out of here, delinquent.” She grabbed Kyouko’s glass and pulled it, Kyouko’s hand still holding on, to her lips to take a sip. “I’ll see you later.”
Kyouko raised an eyebrow and turned the glass so she could drink from where Sayaka had. She finished, set the glass down, and gave her girlfriend a kiss on the cheek. “Yeah. See ya.” To Homura she merely nodded.
Homura forced down the sick feeling in her stomach from watching them. Jealousy. She burned with want, to be able to have someone she could touch and hold so casually. Treacherous memories swam up, reminding her of times spent with Madoka, brief touches, a few shy kisses, not enough, never enough, and never to be repeated.
Maybe Sayaka read this in her face, for the blue-haired girl gave Homura a wry smile. “C’mon, let’s find some place to sit that’s not so busy.”
By complete coincidence a group of seats at the far end of the bar was being vacated at that very moment, leaving two at the end with a few empty stools as buffer. Homura followed Sayaka to sit down, ignoring the whispered comments in her ear.
“Vodka and cranberry juice,” Sayaka told the bartender. She fished out her ID, and the man studied it for a moment before nodding. “How about you, Homura?”
She’d never had alcohol before. “The same.”
“May I see your ID, miss?” asked the bartender.
“You don’t need to see my ID,” Homura said with a small gesture.
“I don’t need to see your ID,” the bartender agreed. “Two vodka and cranberries. I’ll be right back.”
Homura folded her hands on the bar and glanced over at Sayaka. The other woman was staring at her. “Yes?”
“Was that- Did you just-?”
“It was a reference to Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, yes,” Homura said. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that someone like you would have seen it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Sayaka, narrowing her eyes. “But why do you know that movie?”
Homura allowed herself a small smile at Sayaka’s consternation. “It is a popular classic of the science-fiction film genre. The franchise is iconic. It would be an unforgivable gap in my knowledge to not have seen the movies.”
“But…” Whatever Sayaka wanted to say, the words weren’t coming.
“Yes?”
“I, uh…” Sayaka dropped her gaze. “That seems kind of, uh, fun for you.”
She was surprised that Sayaka’s admission did hurt. Homura knew she didn’t give off an air of levity as someone like Kyouko might, but there was more to her than just seriousness – right? Of course not – was this her own thought or the whispering of one of the Claras? – you gave up any claim to fun when you remade yourself as a devil. Who could see you as a normal girl now? A devil doesn’t watch movies, doesn’t hang out with friends, doesn’t do anything but exist as a force of shame and evil.
“Yes, well, surprise,” said Homura in a clipped tone. The bartender set down their drinks. She picked up her glass, raised it to Sayaka, and took a large sip.
“Yeah, vodka will do that to you,” Sayaka said, patting Homura’s back as Homura tried to stop coughing. “Never had any before?” Homura shook her head. “Then here’s a tip, and this goes for any alcohol. Don’t try to chug the stuff unless you know what you’re doing.”
Homura held her head in her hands, elbows resting on the bar top. Her head was spinning from the surprise. “You should have warned me,” she muttered.
“Hey, how was I supposed to know you were gonna dive right in?”
Homura didn’t respond. Neither did Sayaka. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Homura reached for her glass and gave the concoction a tentative sip. It still burned bitterly, but now that she was prepared, she could enjoy the sensation. Another small sip, and then another. Not bad, not bad at all. The room was perhaps a bit warm, though. Or her drink needed more ice.
“So, uh…” Sayaka was tracing her finger around the rim of her second drink. “You… like Star Wars?”
The corner of Homura’s lip twitched in amusement. “The films are not among my favorites, but I don’t dislike them. On the whole, such action flicks don’t appeal to me.”
“Then what kind of movies do you like?” Sayaka noticed Homura’s glass was nearly empty, and she signaled the bartender to bring another one. “On me,” she added, seeing Homura’s frown.
Homura nodded. If she was here at Sayaka’s request, then the least the other woman could do was pay for her. Besides, inconveniencing Sayaka always had a small charm to it. “I tend to prefer…” She bit her lip. In that past she’d never had much opportunity to talk about her hobby, and since isolating herself as a devil her passion for films had only grown, becoming the one small source of pleasure in her dim existence. Sharing this fact would be a show of vulnerability. But there wasn’t anything indefensible about her film preferences, so perhaps it wouldn’t be a big deal. “Classics,” she said. “I have been working my way through Hitchcock’s oeuvre recently.”
Sayaka raised an eyebrow. “Gettin’ fancy with the French there. Hitchcock, huh? I think I’ve heard of that guy. Are his movies any good?”
Homura sighed and finished her drink, the burn of the vodka now familiar enough to cause nothing more than a momentary grimace. “Any good? Well, yes. He’s one of the most revered directors in western, or even world, cinema. The Birds? Vertigo? Psycho?” Sayaka shook her head. “Well, I should have expected as such. You no doubt wouldn’t have the patience for such subtle auteurship.”
“No, it’s okay, Homura, you don’t need to sugarcoat how you feel,” Sayaka murmured. “So I’m gonna guess that you probably haven’t bothered to see the latest Transformers movie.”
Homura winced. “Sayaka. Please.”
Sayaka laughed. “Go on, transfer student. School me. Tell me why my taste in movies sucks.”
“Since you asked nicely…” It was unexpectedly pleasant to talk to Sayaka when they weren’t bickering over the state of the world. The other woman was willing to listen as Homura discoursed, perhaps to excess, about Hitchcock’s techniques and the American film industry at the time when he worked and about the notable figures surrounding the man and his films. Her speech was aided by her second vodka and cranberry juice, and then by something called a “Long Island Iced Tea” and a “Black Russian.” By the end of her lecture she was speaking with her head cradled on her arms and her eyes closed. It kept the room from spinning.
“Any questions?” she asked, noting with distaste the slur in her voice. But she was too distant from her body to effect any change.
Sayaka set down her glass with a clink. “Naaah. You know a lot about this stuff,” she said with a lush’s drawl.
“I have had plenty of time to… do the thing,” Homura replied, trying to marshal her words. “I watched a movies- a lot of movies. And read up on film theory. Since I couldn’t- couldn’t-” Since I couldn’t see her.
The back of her hand was moist. Condensation from her drink? No, she wasn’t holding anything. Her head was on her arms. And condensation would be cold, not warm like this. Tears. That was it. She was crying. Homura lifted her head, cradling her forehead in one hand while wiping at her eyes with the back of the other. A cocktail napkin swam into view, and Sayaka’s hand and then her concerned face. Homura turned away.
“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” Sayaka’s voice was soft.
“That would be a first,” Homura muttered, accepting the napkin and dabbing at her eyes.
Sayaka was tactful enough to ignore the remark. She put a hand on Homura’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do this to yourself, you know.”
“Don’t.” Homura tried to shrug off the hand.
“I’m serious, Homura. You’ve suffered enough, haven’t you? I mean, yeah, I’m still kinda pissed off about what you did, but I can’t say that I’m not happy with my life. You did well by us for the most part.” Sayaka gave her a rueful smile. “Damn, you’re always causing trouble.”
“That’s me.” To her horror, her voice cracked. Homura ducked her head, but she couldn’t stop the sob that spilled out. Her head throbbed, and Homura dropped it to the counter again, letting the cool marble soothe her growing headache. “I can’t do anything right. Everything I try just causes more trouble for her. Why couldn’t you have just let me die a witch? Then I never would have betrayed her like this.”
“Dummy.” Sayaka’s voice was close to Homura’s ear as she tried to catch Homura’s eye. Homura shifted away. “If you die, everything’s over. There’s no way to fix things. And how do you think Madoka would feel?”
“She’d get over me,” Homura said bitterly. “She’d realize I’m not worth her attention.”
“Oh my god, Homura, she loves you.” Homura flinched at the words; the Claras’ giggles hissed in her ear. Sayaka continued, “Madoka might be mad, yeah, but she’d never not forgive you. You don’t need to be so stubborn. Just go see her.”
Homura’s breathing shuddered, and she couldn’t gather air enough to speak. Tear streamed down her cheeks, pooled on the marble bar top. Everything was collapsing on top of her, all the emotions held in for years were threatening to gush forth. How dare Sayaka do this to her? Homura felt power welling up around her, responding to a subconscious urge to fix reality. How easy it would be to make Miki Sayaka suffer for humiliating her like this.
“Easy, Homura.” Sayaka’s murmured reassurances were hard to hear over her own breathing, the throbbing of her pulse, the words of her familiars. “Homura, it’s all right to cry. My god, you’ve been through more than any of us.”
“My fault,” she gulped. She didn’t even deserve this catharsis. She tensed up; Sayaka rubbed her shoulder. “I don’t- deserve this.”
“Finally, some sense.” Sayaka gave her shoulder a pat.
Homura didn’t respond. She focused on trying to get her breathing under control. Sayaka had misunderstood. What Homura didn’t deserve was relief from her suffering. Not while everyone was still ensnared in the reality she had created. Yes, it was for the best, but there was a price for this happiness, and Homura had decided to pay it, heedless of anyone else’s concerns. The others didn’t matter, not like Madoka did. And so as they lived in this illusion, Homura would suffer in her own personal hell, atoning for her choices.
It was very nearly too much to bear.
She focused on nothing but breathing, her familiar techniques for suppressing her emotions. Sayaka continued rubbing her back and tucked some hair that had been tickling Homura’s nose behind her ear.
“I just- I miss her so much,” Homura said at last, so quiet that maybe Sayaka wouldn’t hear.
“She misses you too.”
“She no longer remembers me.” Homura clenched a fist, fingers dragging through cool tears on the marble. “Was it really so much to ask? To have a single friend and not have to worry about her dying in front of me?” She laughed as a thought occurred to her. “The most peaceful time we spent together was inside my own barrier. God, I was selfish, so selfish. I always was. I should have just wished for her to be alive. I had to save her myself. I had to be a hero. Instead I could have brought her back, kept her safe, and she wouldn’t have had to put up with me sacrificing her.”
“Yeah, you are selfish.” There was an edge of exasperation in Sayaka’s voice that finally got Homura to look up at her. “You make all these choices for Madoka’s sake, but you never once asked her what she thought about them, did you? If I were her, that’s what I’d be pissed off about. Not that you cared enough to want to save me, but that you didn’t care enough to ask my opinion.”
Homura dropped her head again. “Then she-”
“She’ll forgive you if you just ask! Just- stop playing the martyr already!” Sayaka shook Homura’s shoulder in a not entirely gentle fashion. “You’ve suffered, I get that,” she continued, her voice softening. “Seriously, Homura, I know it hasn’t been easy for you. You’re allowed to feel sorry for yourself a bit. But nothing will get better if you stay convinced that you can never be saved.” She let out a rueful chuckle. “Isn’t that why you got so fed up with me a bunch of times? ‘Cause I’d never take a grief seed, never admit that maybe I was wrong and that I could change my outlook? I remember you tried to kill me that last time. Who knows what would have happened if Kyouko hadn’t shown up?” The last sentence was pointed; Homura winced under the unsaid accusation.
Sayaka was silent for a moment. “Jeez, you were a mess then. We both were, but you…” She shook her head. “Well, I guess it was understandable by that point.” She squeezed Homura’s shoulder. “What I’m trying to say is, you’re stuck in a rut. Get over it. You have to know Madoka will forgive you if you just ask.”
“I don’t deserve it. Even Madoka couldn’t-”
“Don’t.” And now the steel in Sayaka’s voice grew sharper. Homura met the other woman’s eyes; Sayaka’s sympathy had vanished, her eyes dark blue with her intensity. “I’ll put up with a lot of your bullshit, but don’t you dare say anything against Madoka. She couldn’t forgive you? How little do you think of her? Even I can kind of forgive you, and, sure, you haven’t done as much to me but, damn it, we both know Madoka is better than either of us will ever be. If you don’t believe in Madoka’s kind heart, then you can go back to wallowing in your self-pity. Because you don’t deserve her.” Homura opened her mouth to respond, but Sayaka spoke over her. “But if you can trust in her, really believe in the person you claim to love so much, then you had damn well better go see her already, transfer student. I don’t care if it hurts or if you’re scared. Hell, I don’t care if you suffer the entire time you’re with her ‘cause you feel like you’re not worthy. At this point, it’s about Madoka, all right? You want her to be happy? Then get your ass in gear and start dating her or something. That’s what’ll make her happy.”
Sayaka finished talking, but even with an opening to speak Homura found that she couldn’t. Sayaka’s tirade had been almost too much to process. Her love for Madoka… was it really that shallow? Homura would do anything for Madoka. She had done anything for Madoka. Anything and everything she could think about – but she’d also admitted that she’d had barely any time to spend with the girl she loved. Miki Sayaka knew Madoka better than Homura could ever hope to, and the knowledge burned deep in Homura’s chest, acid eating away at her heart.
Would it be so wrong to see her? To take Sayaka’s advice? Was this just the weakness of her desire, or was it truly all right? But- “I began avoiding her so as not to trigger the return of her memories,” said Homura.
“It’s been, like, six years,” said Sayaka. “We’ve all changed. Even you, kind of. Is it really that likely? Besides,” she added, “you still have all the power here. You’re a big girl. You can deal with the inconvenience.”
“I think I liked you better when you were being sympathetic,” Homura muttered.
Sayaka let out a snort of laughter and slapped Homura’s shoulder. “Look, whatever it takes, all right? Are you going to talk to Madoka?”
“I will think about it,” said Homura, as much to get Sayaka off her back as anything else. She put a hand to her forehead. “I don’t think I’m in the right frame of mind to be making good decisions right now.” She gave Sayaka a small glare.
“I’m surprised you’re this coherent,” said Sayaka. “You drank a ton.”
“Whose fault is that? I trusted you to order for me, Miki Sayaka.”
“Well, from where I’m standing, everything worked out for the best.”
Homura was tempted to smack the smirk off her face, but she settled for saying, “You might be standing, but I don’t think I’m able to.”
“Well, are you ready to go? We can get you a cab.” Sayaka settled the tab. Homura waited for Sayaka to finish, wondering if her balance would come back any time soon. She gingerly slid off the bar stool, transferring her weight to her wobbly legs – and was caught just in time by Sayaka.
“You shouldn’t have let me drink so much,” Homura said by way of thanks.
“Relax, Homura. Okay, ready?” Without waiting for Homura to respond, Sayaka scooped her up in a bridal-style carry. She laughed at Homura’s yelp of surprise. “We’ll get you to a cab, and you don’t even have to take a single step.”
“This is undignified, Miki Sayaka! People are watching!” Homura glanced around, sure they were the center of attention, but everyone in the bar was engaged in their own pursuits. Right. If she didn’t want to be noticed, she wouldn’t be. There were perks to being the most powerful entity in the room, even if she didn’t always remember them.
“More undignified than you falling on your ass?” Sayaka snickered. “I’m doing you a favor here.”
“It’s still your fault in the first place.” Homura crossed her arms over her chest but didn’t struggle as Sayaka carried her out of the bar and deposited her on a bench outside.
They waited in silence for a few minutes until a cab arrived. Sayaka helped Homura into the vehicle. She leaned on the open door and gave Homura a small smile. “This was… kinda fun. Except for the parts where you were a stubborn ass about stuff.”
Homura leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. “Your language has really degraded. I imagine it’s due to how much time you spend in Sakura Kyouko’s company.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sayaka chuckled. “I’ll see ya later, Homura. Try not to puke all over the cab. They hate that. Oh, and drink a lot of water before you go to bed. That’ll help with the hangover. Unless demons don’t get those.”
“Good-bye, Sayaka.”
Sayaka shut the door, smirking at Homura. Homura gave the driver her address and spent the drive concentrating on keeping the contents of her stomach in her stomach. When the hours-long drive ended ten minutes later, Homura stumbled out of the cab and thrust some money at the driver. Whatever bills she had produced, it would be the right amount.
The Clara Dolls were assembled outside the house, their sharks’ grins turned upside down in garish displays of dismay. “What?” Homura bit out, leaning against the wall that isolated her home from the rest of the neighborhood. “I thought you liked it when I made a fool out of myself.”
“She didn’t even notice,” sniffed Namake.
“So like our mistress,” said Noroma.
“Notice what?” groaned Homura. She pressed her head against the stone wall. The texture and coolness was soothing, enough for her to be able to deal with her familiars for the moment.
“Your ear cuff is gone,” Manuke told her.
“What a fool, losing something so important,” said Namake. “Now what will you do?”
“She’ll get her powers back,” Warakuchi said, “and then you’ll be back to where you were before.”
“Powerless,” said Nekura.
“Weak,” added Higami.
“Worthless,” Okubyou finished.
“Shut up, all of you,” Homura said between clenched teeth. It was hard to remember everything about the evening, particularly after her second drink, but there had been a touch, innocent, apparently just a comforting gesture… Homura brought up her hand and mimed tucking hair behind her left ear. Yes. Perhaps it had been then.
She slid to sit on the ground and, eyes closed, pulled her cell phone from her purse. She opened her eyes briefly to select Sayaka’s number from the recent calls list and dialed.
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s the transfer student!” Sayaka’s voice was chipper. The sounds of the city at night bled through in the background. “I was wondering if I’d be hearing from you.”
Now there was no doubt. “You took it.”
“Yep!” Homura could hear the smirk in Sayaka’s voice. “Madoka’s power is sealed in here, isn’t it? It’d be a shame if something were to happen to it.” Homura let out a growl. “Easy, transfer student. I’m not gonna do anything. And you don’t need this, do you?”
“What are you up to, Miki Sayaka?” Homura pressed a hand to her forehead.
“Leverage, that’s all this is. Go on a date with Madoka. Like we talked about. No big deal. I’ll just keep hold of this thing for safekeeping. Like you said, wouldn’t want her accidentally remembering stuff in the middle of a date. That’d be awkward for sure.”
“I will strangle the smugness out of you one of these days.”
Sayaka just laughed. “Whatever, Homura. You know you want this. I’m just helping a bit. For Madoka’s sake. Just like you. Except I actually know what she wants.” She paused. “Yeah, all right, I guess that was a bit out of line. Sorry. I’ll text you Madoka’s number, okay? Or do you want me to set up a date?”
“What I want,” said Homura, “is for you to stop talking and stop meddling.”
“Someone needs to get to bed and sleep off that cranky attitude. I’ll call you tomorrow then. G’night, Homura! Don’t forget to drink a lot of water!”
The call disconnected with a beep. Homura let her hand drop. Drinking. Date. Madoka. Sayaka. Stolen. Everything. Everything was wrong.
Commotion around her. She opened bleary eyes as she felt small hands pick her up. The Clara Dolls carried Homura inside, to bed, for once acting as familiars ought. True, they did little more than dump her, fully clothed, on her bed, but one of them set a bottle of water nearby before they retreated en masse.
Homura fumbled for the drink, chugged half the bottle, then replaced the cap and rolled over to lay on her back. Sayaka was right about one thing, at least. At this moment, sleep was what she needed. Tomorrow Homura could try to figure out how to salvage everything that had gone wrong with her life. Not that she’d ever had success with that in the past.
