Part One: The Gathering
Me: AU, not at all serious, I don't own the characters and all that. Just wanted to try writing something a little whimsical.
Sayaka walked up to the front door of the Kaname residence, a little nervously. The afternoon sun hung suspended behind her in an amazingly vivid blue sky, the faintest feathers of cirrus clouds floating high and indistinct. She covered her eyes with a white sleeved arm, squinting as the harsh rays reflected off her friend's house. Tilting her head, she glanced up at the windows of Madoka's room, but the shades had been drawn.
Today was the big day, the day she'd waited for, for so long. She pulling at the extraordinary tight-feeling pants that felt as if they were beginning to ride up, just from walking from her mother's car to the entryway of the house. She'd tried them on, managing to fit in... but hadn't really walked around in them much, aside from strutting in front of the full length mirror in her bathroom. She felt a twinge of ominous foreboding, looking down at her outfit.
Discomfort aside, she couldn't help smiling. She felt so... oldschool. That was it. A tribute to a show from before she was even born, one of the few animated shows portraying a strong female character. She'd done a project on it for a class last year, nearly failing her literature class in the process. Undaunted, she came to appreciate the show, despite the grainy, primitive animation compared to what came out today. With the pink helmet tucked under her left arm, she stepped up to the doorbell, pressing it briefly.
She waited, staring at the door. She could hear some sort of commotion coming from upstairs. Her eyebrows rose as she heard a distinctive sound of glass breaking from one of the windows above her.
She continued to stand, trying to be patient, fingering the tight collar that had begun to chafe her throat. She took a step back, looking into the windows, but the glare was too bright. She put her hand on the window beside the door that looked into the living room. It took a second for her eyes to adjust, but she thought she saw two people sitting inside, a girl wearing glasses, and a short haired boy in a leather jacket.
What the hell? she thought to herself, not recognizing either. She heard the door open, and hastily stepped back onto the walkway, a sheepish look on her face as she glanced down at the expensive, exotic plants she'd accidentally trampled on.
Mr. Kaname was poking his head out the door. "Oh, hello Sayaka-san! I... ah. Interesting outfit. Are you, by any chance, a Power Ranger?" He gave her a once over, his gaze locking on the dirtied white boots. He stuck his head out the door, glancing over at the flowers beneath the window.
Power Ranger? "Ah, no," Sayaka tried to laugh, but sounded like little more than a forced chuckle. "Maybe if I put on the helmet..."
Mr. Kaname gazed at the sad remnants of so many months of tireless efforts. "Oh no, not by begonias," he whispered in horror. He had created the hybrid through painstaking horticultural persistence.
Sayaka, annoyed and regretful at the same time, apologized. "I'm really sorry, I didn't see them Mr. Kaname. They were, are beautiful. Is Madoka ready?" she tried, taking a hesitant step to the side, as if to squeeze past the man hanging out the doorway.
Snapping out of mournful thoughts with a rueful shake of his head, Mr. Kaname smiled painfully at the blunette. "Oh, its no..." He sighed. Blinking, he looked at Sayaka more closely. "You're not the Pink Power Ranger?" he asked, stumped. There was something familiar...
Sayaka sighed. She ran her hands down the front of her outfit, not provocatively but to smooth the wrinkles of the clinging one-piece uniform, adjusting the pink "V" that ran across her chest. "I'm Prin-"
Tomohisa turned abruptly. "Ah, yes, Madoka is, well she's not ready yet. C-come on inside, wait in the living room." He walked away briskly, not looking back. "Some of your friends are here..." his voice faded as he turned, heading upstairs, shaking his head.
Frowning, Sayaka took off the pink helmet, patting her hair to see if it was still in place. With the gloves on, it was hard to tell. She quickly adjusted the colored oval pin on the left side of her chest, wiggled the black belt cinched tightly around her waist, and again pulled down the white pants, which had definitely begun to ride up again. Noticing the dirt on her white boots, she contemplated taking them off, but it had taken some work getting into them, so she opted for wiping her feet carefully on the plush entryway rug.
She took a breath, feeling the clinging suit stretch as her lungs filled with air. She walked into the living room, nervous and excited and curious.
She was immediately confronted by a witch. "Holy shit..." she started, but trailed off, amazed. Clad in a skin-tight black latex suit, the long, raven haired figure towered over her. Looking down, Sayaka saw ridiculously spiked heels that must have added a good four inches of height. Zippers ran up from both boots, all the way up her legs. Continuing to look up, the blunette's gaze was drawn to the large bare circle of naked skin on the upper third of the the figure's chest, some kind of medallion seemingly pasted to her flesh in the middle. Her crossed arms, ending in white gloves that extended up to her elbow, had metal rings sewn along the backs. She gazed into the stark purple eyes that lay behind thick-rimmed rectangular glasses, the detached look the only thing familiar to the blunette. Her hair was put up in a crazy kind of top-knot, adding another few inches to her already extended height. The midnight black cascade flowed down behind her back.
"Wow, Akemi-san. That... that's an amazing outfit." Sayaka recognized the transfer student's costume, and was impressed at how well she pulled it off, even the glasses. "That was a sweet game..."
"Boobs aren't big enough," someone said sourly, "You haven't seen the best part, yet!" The boy, who had been lounging with his feet up on the coffee table, sat up. Sayaka's attention was still mostly on the spectacle of the coldest fish in class dressed up like some kind of... something. Male fantasy, which is exactly what those kind of games were pandering to. Still, using hair to kill things and having an arsenal of badass magical moves was pretty damn cool, even if the protagonist looked like some kind of emo Barbie.
The boy stood up. "Turn around, Ice Queen!" he snickered. His voice was vaguely familiar, but seemed artificially deep... not that it was really masculine to begin with. She glanced over, watching the boy raise a hand and twirl a finger around. Looking at his face, Sayaka felt a jolt; he was so pretty! She immediately felt a desire to get to know this person better. Something about him was so familiar... the eyes didn't meet hers, but something about the glint inside of the dark red irises was tickling her memory. The short, dark hair was spiked up in the front. Wearing a faded brown leather jacket, the boy didn't seem dressed up at all. Faded, torn jeans, a black shirt, a strange silver charm hanging from a necklace.
Homura turned around, revealing her outfit to be almost completely back-less. The blunette didn't know how to respond, so she settled with raising her eyebrows.
Sayaka squinted, looking at the face of the boy again. She gasped. It couldn't be. Oh my god it is. Then she gasped again, even louder. Oh my GOD-
"What did you do to your hair?! Damn, Kyoko... y-your hair!" Kyoko's hair was chopped short, like Miley Cyrus at her shortest short. For some strange reason, Sayaka felt like she'd lost something precious, like the bunny rabbit she'd owned as a kid that had gone missing shortly after her mother had bought a cat.
Crimson eyes snapped onto the blunette's own, the glint in her stare growing hotter as she ran her eyes up and down Sayaka. Twice. Sayaka's mind clicked a few details into place. "Wha... wait a second. Are you supposed to be Dean?"
Kyoko puffed out her chest, flapping her jacket obnoxiously. "Supposed to be? Dean, ghost hunter and demon killer extraordinaire, in the flesh." She fumbled around behind her, turning to grab something from the couch. "Wait a sec, I got a... here it is." She turned around, brandishing a silver flask in one hand and what appeared to be an actual sawed-off shotgun in the other, pointed directly at Sayaka's chest. "Who are you, the Pink-assed Power Ranger?"
"Hey, whoa there! Watch it." she said, picking herself up off the floor, wanting nothing more than to wipe the smirk of the red-head's face. Former red-head, apparently; it looked a lot darker now. Almost a dirty blonde going on brown. "Don't make me blast you to pieces with my Sting Ray Missiles! I'm not a stupid power ranger. I'm P-"
"You completely ruined that weapon," Homura said accusingly, picking that moment to join the conversation.
"I'm not going to shoot with it, its a prop, moron!" Kyoko snarled. "Besides, it only has to shoot rock salt into ghosts at close range, so you don't need it to be accurate, know-it-all." Sayaka felt like an iteration of this argument had already occurred prior to her arrival.
Homura scoffed. "Ridiculous. What is a rock salt, exactly? Do they sell this kind of ammunition in America? Atrocious diets," she added, as if the fact related to the subject at hand, sneering.
Sayaka felt herself warming to the brewing fight, having strong opinions on the topic herself. "That's what they use to shoot ghosts, Akemi-san! They're weak against salt, so they load up their bullets and... shoot them," she finished.
"Shells. Shotguns shoot shells, Sayaka-san."
"Will you fucking shut the hell up with your stupid alliteration?! Shells, bullets, whatever! I fight monsters and I'm badass," growled Kyoko, stepping up to Homura threateningly. "I do what I have to do, and that includes beating the crap out of uppity smart-ass bi-"
"H-has anyone seen Madoka?" Sayaka asked quickly, stepping between the pair. She didn't particularly like the cold demeanor and lack of social skills that seemed to be Homura's principle personality traits, but she was Madoka's friend, a guest in the same house she herself was, and most importantly the purple-eyed girl had that scary, dead look in her eyes as she stared down at the former red-head.
Homura's eyes lost their crazed look, the black-haired girl softening at the thought of the pinkette, just as Sayaka had known she would. Having been Madoka's friend for years, the blunette felt a little protective of her diminutive, sweet Madoka-chan. She'd seen the look in the transfer student's eyes, the lingering glances, showing up at inopportune times. Far, far too often to be coincidence. And every time, Madoka fawning and smiling and blushing like a, well, like a schoolgirl. If you just stopped encouraging her, she'd advised Madoka on several occasions, but the pinkette just laughed it off. Secretly, Sayaka thought her friend liked the attention this new girl had been giving her.
"No." muttered Kyoko, losing her aggressive posture as Homura turned away, glancing toward the stairs.
"She'll be down soon, I can't wait to see her," Homura said softly but emphatically, to herself. Sayaka and Kyoko shared a glance and a thought. Creepy.
Ding. The soft chime carried easily across the room. Sayaka glanced around, realizing someone was at the door. Probably Mami-san, she thought with a new wave of excitement. Everyone except her seemed to ignore the noise. "Ah, shouldn't we get it?"
"Not my house," Kyoko stated bluntly as she fell back down on the couch. Homura stood, staring at the staircase. Rolling her eyes, straining her ears to hear if Mr. Kaname was on his way downstairs, which he wasn't, Sayaka walked the door, opening it.
For a moment, she was literally blinded as the sun haloed the figure before her. Blinking the bright spots out of her eyes, she heard Mami-san's delightfully gentle voice. "Hello, Sayaka-chan! I'm so glad to see you! And what a cute outfit you've come up with! Lovely, and so flattering..." Stepping back, the blunette rubbed her eyes, the world slowly coming in to focus once again. Mami walked in, her shoes giving a distinctive clicking noise as she walked across the hardwood floor.
Sayaka heard two loud gasps from the living room as Mami entered. Blinking the last of the sun out of her eyes, the blunette followed, wondering what could make both the unflappable and emotionless Homura and the battle-hardened and stone-hearted Kyoko sound so shocked.
Mami stood, arms raised as if to say "Look at me," a cheery smile spread across her face. "What do you think?" she asked, her eyes crinkled merrily. Kyoko made a choking noise.
Two large cat ears, white with pink on the inside, poked out of Mami's elaborately curled hair, looking soft and plush from four meters away. Her broad smile was accentuated by the three lines drawn along each cheek. A white choker encircled her neck, with the words "BAD PUSSYCAT" running along her throat in metallic pink letters. Looking carefully, Sayaka noticed that the "cat" was more implied than actually spelled out.
Two white spaghetti straps ran across her shoulders, connecting with, well, pretty much nothing. A network of white mesh encased Mami's bulging chest, clung to her midriff, and rand down the entire length of her long, voluptuous legs. As if that wasn't enough, Sayaka's gaze was drawn to the missing sections around her hips, the bare patch that ran up between her legs almost to her navel. The short, white bikini bottoms were revealed for what they really were as Mami turned in a 360, exposing her back and the shoestring that seemed to run up the crack of-
"Ahhh." "Uhhhm." "I... iya."
Mami giggled. "Well, what do you think?" she repeated, inwardly pleased at her show-stopping entrance. This was a day to cut loose, after all...
Kyoko approached her, seeming hesitant. Staring. Homura wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "What are you?" the transfer student asked faintly.
Mami made a provocative pose, pointing at the four square inches of fabric on her body. A tiny feline face, proclaiming "Hello!" was visible if you looked close enough. All three girls looked close enough.
"According to the rules and guidelines, I'm not sure that you can-" Homura began, with a surprisingly prim look on her face until Kyoko landed an elbow to her kidney. Her muffled scream was only partly covered up by the cross-dressing former red-head's exclamation.
"That is a bitching outfit! Holy damn, Tomoe, wow... you're gonna have to beat them off with a stick." Kyoko's eyes darted to Sayaka, noting she caught the inside joke. Beat them off.
Mami tittered delightedly, cheeks rosy. Sayaka laughed too, eying Homura warily as the girl rose from the ground with a pained look on her face. Kyoko, in her leather jacket, pants, and boyish boots, looked the part as she put an arm around Mami's shoulders, guiding her to the couch. Sayaka sat down next to Kyouko, feeling her outfit give her the wedgie of the century as she plopped down on the thick cushion.
"Thanks for getting the door, its a little chaotic up here at the moment," Mr. Kaname's voice echoed down from the staircase, getting louder. "My beautiful daughter, and my beautiful wife, will both be ready in about-"
Mami, the epitome of social grace, had slipped out from under Kyoko's arm and instinctively rose to greet the man who's house had been opened to her. As Tomohisa walked into view, he stopped for a moment, one leg hanging in midair. His eyes got uncomfortably wide, and then he tumbled the rest of the way down.
Mami rushed over, heeled shoes clicking across the floor, delicate eyebrows upturned with concern. Fumbling, Madoka's father tried to prop himself up, but he'd landed on his back and gotten the wind knocked out of him. He lay prone, helpless, staring up as the curvacious blonde bent over him, hands playing across his chest and head, searching for injuries.
He made a noise impossible to reproduce phonetically. The sound made when a part of the airway is clenched, like a backwards moan, the noise coming from the intake of air rather than it's expulsion.
"Oh no, you poor man! Mr. Kaname, are you alright?" The bright, golden eyes looked truly worried. "You're bleeding!"
Tomohisa got a gasping breath into his aching lungs, then another. He sat up, averting his eyes from the concerned drill-tailed blond, wheezing and pinching his nose to stop the blood that poured out of it. "I... uhb... ubstairs... gah." His mutters disappeared as he trod resolutely up the staircase once again.
Mami heard him utter a surprisingly graphic curse at the top of the stairway, and hoped he hadn't hurt his head in that fall. "Get that cute ass back over here, kitty!" Kyoko called belligerently. Mami rolled her eyes good-naturedly, smiling, secretly determined to teach the loudmouth veteran a lesson in respectful language. Sayaka just rolled her eyes.
The blonde turned back toward her on-again-off-again friend, amazed at how well she pulled off the pretty-boy look. Except for, maybe, being too pretty. "Yes, sir!" she replied playfully, striding over and sitting on Kyoko's lap as the leather-jacketed girl patted her jeans.
Sayaka rolled her eyes again and crossed her arms.
Mami's golden eyes narrowed as she felt something poke her as she sat down. "What is-" Kyoko bent over, whispering something in her ear. Sayaka caught the words "real deal" and something else about a "package," before Mami made a disgusted noise and stood up, walking over to sit on the other side of the blunette.
Sayaka couldn't help but smirk at Kyoko's frustrated expression.
"Sometimes, Kyoko..." Mami shook her head, radiating disappoint.
It was another five minutes before Madoka finally joined them. Jingle. Jingle. Walking down the stairs timidly, the pinkette paused. Jingle.
"-makes just as much sense as witches do, I mean come on!"
"Preposterous. Infantile fantasy propagated by a religious hierarchy devoted to the suppression of native cul-"
"What the hell are you going on about? Monsters could be every bit as real-"
"There's no evidence, no credible witnesses, no documentation or even a shred of proof-"
"Details, details," Kyoko scoffed. She wasn't really passionate about her side of the argument, she just wanted something to argue about. "There's no 'doculation' or 'incredible witnesses' that prove witches exist, but they do. Don't they? Don't they?!" she persisted annoyingly, as Homura tried to respond.
"It's not at all the same thing," the black haired girl began in a lecturing tone. Luckily, Sayaka noticed her friend standing on the stairs, and shouted out to her, hoping to end the tedious back-and-forth between Homura and Kyoko.
"Hey Mado- guh? M-Madoka, that's..." Everyone spun to look at the pinkette, Homura's long hair fanning out behind her, looking tense and ready to flee. Or pounce.
Standing on one red-booted foot, Madoka pulled at the pink ruffles of her short dress. Dark red gloves covered her hands, one of which glided up her arm to fiddle with a short, poofy sleeve that left her shoulders bare. The tight corset that encased her chest was, of course, pink. Homura was the first to notice the pink garter belt halfway up Madoka's right thigh, and the similiarily pink choker wrapped around her neck. Which was to say immediately.
Two black cat ears emerged from her thick, pink hair, and a black tail with a red ribbon and a golden bell hung behind her, poking out a slit in the back of her skirt. "I-is i-it okay?" Madoka asked, hesitant and slightly fearful. The stares her friends were giving her were not the reaction she'd envisioned. Maybe she shouldn't have let Homura-chan help her pick it out... Madoka's eyes widened as she got a view of Mami's outfit.
"M-M-Mami-san, that is q-quite the..." Pausing, blushing furiously, she turned her gaze to Homura's shiny black outfit. "Oh my..." The pinkette stood frozen as the black-haired girl embraced her tightly, pressing against her hard. Madoka grunted. "Homura-chan, is... is that a gun?" she asked, looking down.
Sayaka once again met Kyoko's eyes, and the two burst out in laughter. Mami smiled indulgently.
Homura drew back, heedless of the guffaws behind her. She pulled something from her belt, not the big double-barreled, golden filligreed fantasy pistol from the game, but a humungous, blue steel automatic pistol, gleaming and very very real. What is up with these girls and guns, Sayaka couldn't help wondering. "Yes, its a gun. Want to hold it?" Homura asked hopefully. Madoka shook her head, backing away.
"I... uh... like what you... did with your hair, Kyoko-san." Madoka winced visibly as she said it, feeling horrified that anyone could do that to themselves. It had been so long, and thick, and, well, red! With that short, spiked up hair Kyoko looked almost like she could be a boy. The pinkette smiled when she looked at Sayaka. "That looks amazing, Sayaka-chan! I know you worked so hard on making it, and you did such an excellent job, you're the prettiest princess of all!" Sayaka beamed at her friend's praise.
"White pajamas and a pink helmet. Big deal. I still don't get why you'd go as a Power-"
"If you say 'Power Ranger' one more time, Dean, I'll punch your damn face back to HELL!" Sayaka roared, losing control at the constant jabs.
"Ranger," Kyoko finished, enunciating the word tauntingly. "That show's racist."
"Huh?" Everyone was confused. Sayaka stopped mid-punch.
"Who's the yellow ranger? An Asian. Who's the black ranger? A black guy. Who's the pink ranger? A girl. Hmm. That makes it sexist, too..."
"Kyoko, there were like a thousand different versions of Power Rangers. DId they all follow that formula? I highly doubt it." Mami sounded like she was trying to be reasonable.
"Probably all of them. Sure. I dunno, I only remember the ones I saw when I was way little. That show sucks."
"I bet you liked the fighting," Sayaka commented innocently.
"No blood, no severed limbs... nothing like the real thing."
"But when you were a kid..."
"Well, I guess it was okay."
Why am I defending Power Rangers? the blunette wondered to herself. Probably just being contrary, Kyoko could really get on her nerves sometimes.
There was another crash from upstairs. Madoka felt the need to explain, given the puzzled expressions shared between the friends. "It's my mom, she's getting ready."
Another shared glance. "Um, getting ready to take us? She's giving us all a ride, right?" Sayaka asked uncertainly.
"Yes, it's just, she's, well. Dressing up," Madoka whispered, mortified. She loved her mom, who was the coolest, bestest mom in the whooooole world, but she'd seen the outfit lying on her bed this morning and had felt a hollow pit form in her stomach. "Sh-she wants to come with."
T appropriate so far? Let me know. Also, please please try and guess who people are, and what's happening. It will be crystal clear next chapter, so now's your only chance. Kyoko might be a bit of a red herring, depending on how fanatical you are Homura as well.
And I feel the need to explain Power Rangers references. I realize, even if you may not, that Power Rangers was the Americanized version of a Japanese kids action show called Super Sentai, so the latter is what girls in Mitakihara would have watched. I know nothing about that show, however, so suspension of disbelief is required.
Also, it wasn't racist, really, just an unfortunate design decision. Blatantly, stupidly obvious perhaps, but that's the thing about retrospection.