Window
The night has a brisk chill as Mami began the trek home. It's nearly two in the morning and she still hasn't studied for the math test tomorrow.
"Today, actually." she thinks to herself.
The calendar doesn't conform to her personal sleep schedule, as much as she wishes it would; she hopes that getting even a small amount of rest will minimize the amount of magic she will have to waste energizing her body tomorrow.
Of course, getting a full night's sleep would be even more efficient, but she would never allow herself to skip the nightly patrol. After all, she is Mitakihara's only defender.
She draws her arms around herself, shivering and increasing her pace, she wishes that she had brought a coat. Or that she had one, for that matter. The jacket her father had given to her in the eighth grade is now shrunken and tattered; she would have replaced it, but money has been in short supply and high demand since her parents-
Ever since she made the contract.
Getting a job is out of the question, she's too young to be considered at most businesses, and even if she wasn't, she doesn't have time between her scholastic and magical duties.
A gust of wind cuts Mami to the bone with its chill; its November, and while the first snowflake hasn't fallen yet, it's cold enough to happen at any time. But it's unbecoming of the city's hero to complain about the weather, she thinks; frostbite is easily healed with magic, and she's handled worse before. She tries to look at the bright side instead: the night's battle went off without a hitch. In fact, she hasn't sustained an injury in months.
She tries to ignore the fact that her skill development was born out of necessity; without a comrade to protect her, a Puella Magi can't afford to make any mistakes. The city has garnered a reputation as a dead zone amongst new Magi, its large population of witches ensuring that most hunters burn themselves out or fall victim to their prey within weeks.
Of course many, upon hearing such stories, would point to the resident Magical Girl as the source of the deaths. The last time she offered to help a newcomer from Kazamino, the girl fled, crying in terror.
But being alone is fine by Mami so long as she is the hero of Mitakihara.
No, it isn't, and no, she isn't.
Crying over loneliness is unbecoming of a hero, she thinks, but she knows that she's no hero.
It's become even colder; she's still rubbing her eyes as she walks past Mitakihara General Hospital, she can't help but picture its residents. There are patients here far worse off than she is, patients that didn't get the chance to wish, patients in terminal condition. Patients that certainly don't cry over small misfortunes like hers.
She hates how weak she is.
She's returning from patrol anyway, so when the golden girl becomes the golden magi she tells herself its to check for witches. When she ascends the side of the hospital to peer into the ward windows she tells herself it's for the sake of thoroughness.
Making herself imperceptible to the patients within is simple enough; such magic is a staple of the Puella Magi, and one of the first things she learned to do upon contracting.
The spell turns out to be unneeded; the grey haired boy beyond the window is fast asleep, cradling his destroyed left arm. Mami thinks she can remember hearing rumors about a certain musician around the school, but not with enough clarity to bother dwelling on them.
She leaps to the next window sill and affixes herself to the frame with ribbons. The wind is stronger at this height, and her costume is hardly winter-wear; she presses herself to the glass in hopes of both getting a better view, and feeling some of the room's warmth seeping through.
The glare from the streetlights makes it difficult to see, but she can make out the room's two occupants: a bald, emaciated woman and an ivory haired child. The woman, the girl's mother, Mami presumes, is connected to a myriad of machines: a heart monitor, an oxygen tank and multiple IVs.
Chemotherapy...?
The girl has fallen asleep in a chair by her mother's side, slumped forward onto the edge of the bed.
The two are still holding hands.
Mami's heart clenches; she detaches herself from the frame and leaps to the third window.
There's a lamp on in the room, making it slightly easier for Mami to see inside; sitting up in the bed is a girl with her raven hair. Behind red framed glasses a pair of sad, amethyst eyes are looking down at the phone in her lap.
Mami's heart goes out to the girl.
If the call hasn't arrived already, it probably isn't coming at all.
She looks more closely, the girl is pale, slender, and the glow of her heart monitor is projecting a sickly green upon her skin.
The poor girl, Mami thinks, trapped here all alone.
Whose call is she waiting for? A boyfriend? Certainly not. Family? Mami isn't sure why, but she just can't see that. She can, however, see the girl, after months of struggling with illness, returning school by herself, wanting desperately for someone to reach out to her.
She pictures the girl making a fool of herself during her introduction to the class; hearing them whisper behind her back.
She can see the girl, eating lunch by herself; struggling with her work and receiving no help.
She imagines the girl going through the motions everyday, putting on a mask to avoid alienating herself from her peers further.
She can see the girl lose a little of the light from her eyes each time, until one day she goes home and wonders if it would be better to simply stop taking the pills keeping her heart working.
Mami doesn't know what compels her to think any of this, but she can see with perfect clarity, the sad, pathetic creature before her.
Disgusting. Mami scares herself when the word springs to mind.
But then the girl isn't. The phone in her lap comes to life and so does she; fingers dancing over the keys and bringing it to her ear. Mami can make out a handful of words and phrases,
"...Doka..."
"...So glad you..."
"...Means a lot to me..."
"...Not alone anymore..."
"...Me too..."
"...See you..."
The girl puts the phone on her nightstand and lays down with the most genuine smile Mami has ever seen, then she flicks the light switch beside her bed, filling the room with the same darkness pervading the rest of the hospital.
Only the glare of the streetlights remains, Mami can see nothing but her own reflection in the window.
She looks at herself. She realizes she was from the start.
At that moment she feels even colder, and she spends the rest of the walk home avoiding anything reflective.
Author's notes
Projection is a psychological defense mechanism in which a person takes unacceptable attributes they see in themselves and assigns them to other people or things.
I'm not as familiar writing in present tense as I am in past tense, additionally, this story had a considerably shorter incubation time than my previous one, so I apologize if there was any drop in quality. Please review and offer criticism.