Chapter 1: This Chick is Absolutely Batshit Crazy
She's disgruntledly wiping popcorn oil off of her hands with a grungy towel in the break room after a long, arduous shift consisting of dealing with imbeciles and exploding popcorn machines when her boss enters the room. She can tell it's him just by his footsteps — those shiny boots he wears clack loudly on the tiled floor in an irritating way that makes her clutch the towel harder. She's come to give the sound a negative connotation since she usually hears it when he's about to rope her into something convoluted like cleaning the bathrooms or, god forbid working the popcorn machines, to name a few of the irritations she's frequently subjected to. Homura keeps her eyes glued to her greasy hands as the footsteps draw closer — she swears all the towel did was move the grease around. A second set of footsteps follow, much to her disdain — their owner sounded rather heavy-footed from the way they clunked on the floor. Great, a brute.
"Akemi-san," her boss intones, the footsteps coming to a halt. She has to suppress a deep, earth-loathing sigh — what business was so important to bother her on break anyways? However, she understands the importance of staying within her manager's good graces, and thus morphs her face into an impassive expression as she turns around.
"Yes?" she replies evenly, keeping her tone in check. She sets the towel back on the metal rack mounted to the wall, acknowledging that the popcorn grease is most likely destined to remain imprinted upon her hands for a while longer until she can make it to a nearby sink.
The sight before her has her heart sinking. Standing next to her boss is a teenage girl looking about her age with fiery red hair tied back into some god-awful mess of a ponytail. The girl looks rough and fierce, flashing her a wicked fanged grin when their eyes have the misfortune of meeting. She finds herself frowning despite her efforts to remain pleasant, but the girl's grin doesn't abate — rather, it seems to grow. Those vermillion eyes bear into hers with a confidence that she finds grating. And, not only that, but she's wearing a theatre uniform, the same as hers. Black pants, black vest, name tag, and a long-sleeved button-up shirt — except hers was in red and Homura's in purple. But there was no mistaking it: she was an employee. Shit.
Her boss smiles awkwardly, sensing the ill atmosphere. He reaches behind his neck to scratch at his short brown hair, letting out a small laugh.
"Ah, I would like to introduce you to a new employee here. Her name is Sakura Kyouko. I'm assigning you to be her mentor at the job, okay? I think with your skillset, you're the most qualified for helping her," he explains. It takes a significant amount of willpower not to sag her shoulders and deepen her frown at this appalling news. She isn't the friendliest or the most accommodating employee at the theatre in the least, nor would she consider herself the most competent at all facets of the job — particularly those goddamn popcorn machines. She shudders at the memory of the buttery explosion, the movement drawing a frown from her boss. Shit. She immediately straightens up and nods her head, plastering a smile upon her face that makes her cheeks ache from its forcefulness.
"Of course. I would be happy to be of assistance," she replies, voice strained with the effort of maintaining a pleasant tone. However, her shabby act somehow miraculously convinces her dimwit boss that she's even the slightest bit enthused about this proposition, and he claps an arm around Kyouko's shoulders, who flinches uncomfortably at the sudden contact.
"Fantastic! I'll leave her to you, then, Akemi-san," he replies jubilantly, and pushes her forward in Homura's direction. With that he turns around and makes his exit, each clack of his annoying boots on the tiled floor feeling like each beat of a hammer nailing her coffin shut. The door closes behind him with an audible thunk, sealing her fate. The room was then cast into silence, with her and this Kyouko girl the sole occupants. They stare at each other for a few moments, Homura's gaze awkward and unknowing of what to say while the other girl simply maintains that stupid grin of hers. It was like she was trying to make her uncomfortable or something. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, her frown deepening.
"Uh—" she blurts out, speaking without even knowing what she's going to say, but thankfully the other girl chooses that moment to finally say something, cutting her off.
"So, you're Akemi, huh?" she inquires, folding her arms over her chest. It then occurs to Homura that this is the first time she's heard the red-headed disaster's voice — callous, rough, and aggravatingly casual just like her appearance, but higher and more feminine in pitch than Homura had expected. She nods her head in reply to the question.
"Akemi Homura," she supplies. And that's the extent of all she supplies, running out of words. She really isn't much of a talker. Which is frustrating, since apparently she's supposed to take the reins and teach this girl, but what exactly does that entail? What should she say? Homura sticks her greasy popcorn-tainted hands in her work pants' pockets, her arms going stiff. Kyouko just nods her head, and that dastardly grin returns.
"Alright, well, you gonna show me 'round or what?" she asks next, and Homura's actually glad she does, since now she has some sort of direction to latch onto with this. Showing this rookie around the place. It sounds easy enough.
"Of course," she replies. "Well, this room we're standing in is the break room—"
"Obviously," Kyouko cuts in, making Homura's eye twitch and her train of thought derail. Goddamnit.
"Well, yes, but…. anyways, it's kind of dumpy," she admits, which makes the other girl laugh. She points to a small refrigerator on the other side of the room. "There's a fridge over there for when you get hungry, though the food's kind of mediocre—"
"Did you just call food mediocre?" Kyouko interrupts her again, sounding incredulous. Homura jumps a bit, mouth flapping uselessly for a few moments as her sentence is ground to a halt once more. She lowers her arm and levels the girl with a glare, but her new coworker meets her gaze head-on without a single flinch, stepping closer. Homura steps back.
"That's not what I said," she grumbles in reply. "I mean it's usually stale and doesn't taste all that great because it sits there for a long time since everyone brings their lunch usually. I meant that in comparison to the concession stand's stuff it's mediocre."
"Or maybe you're just picky. Why don't I taste test it, he?" the girl replies. Homura blinks. Sassy, too? Fuck. She can feel her soul being slowly destroyed already. Kyouko turns and begins marching over to the aforementioned refrigerator, fully intending on carrying out her proposition, but Homura reaches out and grabs her arm in an attempt to restrain her.
"There isn't any time for that; I'm supposed to be training you right now. You can 'taste test' the moldy onions lat—oof!" Suddenly she's on the floor, her vision bestowing upon her the sight of the ceiling and a rather angry-looking young woman towering over her.
"Don't fucking touch me," Kyouko snarls, her vermillion eyes blazing. Homura just blinks in confusion, her spine aching and her skull feeling like it just got ran over by a truck from its hard impact on the floor. That was… a bit of a gross overreaction there. Homura had suspected it when she'd first seen her a few minutes ago, but now she's positive: this girl is absolutely batshit crazy. Perfect. Just perfect. Of course she gets stuck with such a person. Goddamnit, she just wants to enjoy her short break away from all the imbeciles she has to constantly put up with every day.
"Uh, okay." Somehow, she finds words to reply to this bizarre turn of events. "Help yourself, I guess?" Apparently she's not in any sort of position to stop her from feasting upon moldy onions or whatever the hell is in that gas chamber of Satan. Perhaps the girl is just hungry, but really, wouldn't she have brought her lunch in that case?
She's interrupted from her minute musings when Kyouko simply huffs in reply to her grant of permission and marches on over to the fridge unabated this time. Homura's gaze remains fixated to the ceiling as she hears the heavy thud, thud, thud of Kyouko's boots and the sound of the refrigerator door being thrown open.
"I can't believe you people would waste food like this," she grumbles under her breath, just loud enough for Homura to hear. She blinks in confusion at those words — why in the world did she care so much?
"Are you going to get your lazy ass off the floor anytime soon?" Kyouko asks loudly, and Homura turns her head to see her sporting a loaf of bread in her hand that's somehow already half-eaten. And she was quite certain that it hadn't been touched yet by anyone. This girl truly was truly bizarre. And according to her boss, she has to work with her frown now on? Just great.
"Did you hear me?" Suddenly strong hands are grabbing her right arm, and she finds herself being swiftly yanked up from the floor. Her legs struggle to find purchase on the smooth floor for a few moments before she manages to get herself in a standing position. The redhead immediately lets go once Homura regains stability, and hastily takes a few steps back from her to eliminate their close proximity.
"Anyways, I think we're done here. Why don't you show me the rest of the place, yea? Let's get out of this stuffy room," Kyouko suggests, already making her way towards the door, still with that loaf of bread in hand.
"Ah, yes. Of course," Homura agrees, moving to catch up with her. Shouldn't she be taking the lead here? The fiery redhead is awfully forward; she's not quite sure how to deal with her. There's bread crumbs all over face, too, but after being randomly body slammed onto the floor, she's not feeling particularly benevolent towards the other girl, at least not enough to inform her of such things. Though she had a feeling Kyouko wouldn't care that much either way. She seems like that sort of person.
Sighing, Homura opens the door to the break room, preparing to unleash the monster upon the building. She didn't even get to finish her break.
Homura shows Kyouko around the movie theatre — all the showing rooms, where the bathrooms are, the ticket stand, and other such areas of the place as well as providing commentary on what exactly they're supposed to do there. It's tedious and exhausting, especially with how Kyouko seemed determined to interrupt her and get under her skin, but somehow she miraculously manages to do it. Though, she's not exactly sure just how much of it Kyouko paid attention to, but she honestly couldn't care less whether she got any of it. She just wants to get this god-awful task over with. However, they still had one place left to explore, and she'd purposely saved it for last because she honestly didn't want to deal with it. But Homura could avoid it no longer, much to her disdain. After two hours, they find themselves in front of the dreaded concession stand, where Homura frequently feels like murdering someone. The theatre is a small, somewhat less modernized one that thankfully doesn't attract notably large crowds of customers. Combine that with it being early in the afternoon, and hardly a person could be seen, leaving the concession stand free to their 'training'.
"Ooh," Kyouko exclaims when they draw near, her hands shoved into the pockets of her black work pants. "This part actually looks exciting."
"It's more so the spawn of Satan, but if you mean 'exciting' as in 'stressful, anxiety-inducing, and rigorous,' then yes, I suppose it is," Homura replies blandly. She opens the gate to the area behind the counter and leads them inside.
"Jeez, what's got your panties in a wad about it? It's just fixing food, not rocket science." Kyouko's eyes hungrily rove over the shelves of candy and chips, the microwave, the toaster oven, and the several popcorn machines that line the wall, as well as the beverage machines and other devices meant to cater to the customers' dietary needs. Homura immediately shakes her head at her, and gestures towards the machines.
"The machines frequently malfunction, and may or may not catch fire or explode during said malfunctions." She shakes her head, again shuddering at the memory of the morning's popcorn disaster. So much butter. Just so much butter. Everywhere. She glares at the felonious machine in particular that had misfired. Kyouko seems taken aback by her admission of the machines' tendency for errant misadventures for a moment, but she simply folds her arms across her chest and leans back against the counter, raising her eyebrow at Homura.
"Or, maybe you just suck ass at cooking?" she suggests cheekily, grinning when she sees the other girl's eye twitch and flash her a death glare. Homura huffs and turns away.
"You'll see. Everything is so obsolete it's appalling. I'm just warning you that the machinery is heavily unreliable. Especially that toaster oven over there—" she nods towards the offending piece of technology, "—it's quite evil." Kyouko bursts out laughing at that, and Homura grits her teeth at the sound. She doesn't believe her. Of course she doesn't believe her.
"Psht. I'm pretty sure you're either just exaggerating or you've got some curse upon your shoulders. It can't be that bad. The only thing I can see that would suck ass would be being surrounded by all this delicious food and not being able to eat any of it," Kyouko replies, waving a hand at the shelves of delectable objects. Homura shakes her head.
"Actually, we can eat the excess popcorn. But you grow quite sick of it after a while. Especially when you constantly smell like popcorn." Homura wrinkles her nose and leans against the counter next to the other girl. She immediately stiffens when Kyouko suddenly invades her personal space then, her face coming dangerously close to Homura's neck and inhaling deeply. What the fuc—
"Jeez, you really do reek of popcorn!" Kyouko exclaims, quickly pulling back once she had finished investigating the aroma. Homura just stands there, blinking, a blush setting into her face for some strange convoluted reason she couldn't even begin to fathom. She isn't sure whether she wants to slap the shit out of Kyouko or melt into the floor and disappear. Or both.
"Don't do that," she hisses, her voice cracking embarrassedly, making her blush grow deeper. Her neck still tingles from where Kyouko's nose had brushed against it. Seriously, who sniffs other people's necks? Infuriatingly enough, the redhead starts laughing, and Homura has to exert all of her willpower to not bury her face in her hands right then. What an insufferable idiot she's stuck with.
"Jeez, isn't that blush on your face just the cutest thing?" Kyouko teased, even having the audacity to outright point at her face. Homura turns and stares at her, face scarlet. Oh my god. She finds herself having to suppress the desire to murder this caricature of a human being right now, her greasy hands tightening into shaky fists. Kyouko's grin merely widens excitedly when she notices the sense of wrath radiating off of Homura's being, and quickly twirls away playfully before Homura can even have any sort of chance of acting upon her fuming mortification.
"Anyways," she begins, changing the subject as she pulls out a box of Pocky from her pocket and inserts one of the sticks in her mouth, "is there anything else around here I need to know about?" Homura sighs, relieved that the focus of conversation has shifted away from her onto something else. She pushes herself off the counter and makes her way over to a door set on the wall parallel to the counter.
"Well, there's the storage room here for when we need to restock or fish out stuff that's not on the shelves," Homura explains as she pulls the door open.
"Ah, so not as exciting, then," Kyouko comments, following her into the room.
"No, not really." Homura shrugs her shoulders. "It's just full of stuff. And food." She gestures to the shelves of said objects that took up the space of the room. The room is sizable, with plenty of room for all the theatre's supplies, though it has the misfortune of—
"Oh, God, it reeks of popcorn in here worse than you do," Kyouko bellows, making exaggerated gagging sounds. "I mean, I love popcorn and all, but Jesus it's like this place was hit up by a walking giant tub of butter." For the first time since they'd met, Homura actually finds herself laughing at something the redhead said. She tries to hide her chuckle with her hand, but Kyouko can still hear the small bit that slips out, as well as the shake of her shoulders. A big smile stretches across the taller girl's lips, though it's different from the smiles she'd given Homura up to this point — this one holds none of the teasing feistiness of the others, but rather, it's a genuine smile, like as if she's truly pleased to have garnered some amusement from the black-haired girl. Somehow, they miraculously share a mutual smile with one another.
Unfortunately — actually she should be saying 'fortunately' but strangely enough can't bring herself to do so — their boss chooses that moment to appear in the doorway, looking relieved.
"There you two are!" he exclaims, stepping into the room. "I've been looking for you both. Are you two through? Has Akemi-san shown you everything, Sakura-san?" Kyouko turns to face the man, her expression shifting to a more guarded one — a change leaves Homura blinking when she notices it.
"Ah, yes sir, she has. I'm sure all the other stuff comes with experience, but I think I have a good idea of what to do now," she replies. Their boss nods, looking pleased.
"Good, good! Akemi-san, I'll be expecting you to look after her, okay? Make sure she knows what she's doing and that she's handling things well, alright?" Their boss says, flashing the two a thumbs-up. Homura blinks. So it isn't a one-time thing. No, she has to look after the other girl for an indefinite period of time, actually. She casts a sideways glance at the fiery redhead, who grins cheekily at her, and has to suppress a sigh. This girl is going to be a handful, she thinks.
"Of course, sir. I'll make sure of it," she replies pleasantly, forcing herself to smile. He claps his hands together.
"Thank you, Akemi-san. Now, both of your shifts are about over, so you ought to start packing up to head home. Good work today." He then turns and makes his exit, leaving Kyouko and Homura alone once more in a dumpy room. They stare at each other for a moment, before Kyouko's grin turns mischievous. She snaps her Pocky stick in half.
"Please be gentle with me, Popcorn-senpai~!" she teases, and Homura's face automatically connects with the palm of her hand.
"Please, never say those words again," she grounds out of clenched teeth. Kyouko just laughs heartily in response.
A/N: Hello everyone! I'm new to this section. Well, not really; I've been a devoted lurker/devourer of the fanfics here since the summer of 2013, but you know, just never showed my face haha. There's never enough Kyouhomu fanfics, so allow me to impart this AU upon thee! Updates might potentially be a tad sporadic. But yea, it's a multi-chapter one alright. Might get silly, might get a bit angsty; it's probably going to be a mixed bag of fun. And I wouldn't consider myself intimately-versed in the ways of movie theatres so you can take this exaggerated, weird portrayal with a grain of salt. I try anyways! But this is being taken from a universe full of edgy angsty magical lesbians, so you know. ^^ Enjoy the ride! Also, sidenote: I did draw the cover art for this story, so that's kind of how I picture them in this story if you want a more specific visual reference.