Spider Lilies – Such Elementary Mistakes

Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Puella Magi Madoka Magica. All Madoka-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Studio SHAFT and Gen Urobuchi.

[-]

"Are you sure you're feeling up to going to school, Madoka?" asked Homura, for about the fifth time in the space of an hour. "There's no shame in taking a sick day once in a while."

Madoka pouted at her friend as they walked along the side of the road, heading toward the bus stop.

"For the last time, Homura-chan, I'm fine," she said, in about the most irritated voice she was physically capable of summoning up. Which was to say, maybe a two or a three on a normal person's scale. "It was just that crazy nightmare that got me worked up. Now I'm totally okay."

"About that nightmare, Madoka…" murmured the brunette. "I know you said you usually don't remember the contents of your dreams. But…is there anything?"

Madoka wracked her brain, trying to think.

Eventually, her pointer finger upon her lip, she answered, "Well…I guess…maybe. I dunno if I just imagined it, but I thought I heard a…a name at some point. What was it? Like…Gilda, or something? Or Greta…"

Suddenly, she lowered her fist into her palm. "Wait, no, I got it!" she added quickly. "Gretchen, I think it was! But I'm not sure if it means anything…"

Homura's hand, which'd been playing absently at the left side of her face, suddenly dropped limply to her side.

"Are you absolutely certain that was the name?" she demanded, far more stridently than Madoka had been expecting.

"I…I think so!" stammered the pink-haired girl. "But like I said, I dunno for sure! I could've just imagined the whole thing after the fact, and it got jumbled up with my memories…"

She swallowed as they finally arrived at the bus stop; fortunately, the pair were the only ones here at this particular moment. They sat down next to each other across the bench.

"Why do you ask, Homu-chan?" she said. "Do you know someone named Gretchen? It seems like one of those, y'know…old-timey, Western-style ones."

Homura looked pensive as she sat down, the brief flash of emotion over as quickly as it'd flared up.

"It's of German origin, a diminutive form of 'Margarete.' It is indeed not very common these days," she told the other girl. "But probably its most famous use is as the heroine in the tragedy of Faust. Have you heard of it, Madoka?"

The pink-haired girl slowly shook her head.

"There are many different versions. Books, plays, even a manga by Osamu Tezuka," Homura explained. "But in just about every iteration, Faust is a doctor and scholar who makes a contract with the demon Mephistopheles, offering his soul in exchange for happiness. Gretchen is the woman he comes to love and desire. Both their fates…typically end in misfortune."

"You're so smart, Homu-chan," muttered Madoka, feeling – as she often did – rather inadequate by comparison. "Even about stuff like Western literature, you know so much."

She was probably imagining the slight pink tinge to Homura's cheeks as she looked askance and said, "I've…had a lot of time to myself. Reading was really all I had."

"What other stuff do you like to read?" asked Madoka, deciding to change the subject to something more pleasant. "I was thinking…I should really read more outside of class. My dad's gag manga doesn't really count."

The raven-haired girl's lip curled upward slightly.

"I've never told anyone this before, but…I like gag manga too," she replied, offering one of those rare but heart-melting Homura Akemi smiles. "Honestly, I read all kinds of manga. Regular books, too…even a few American comics. But I love manga. You…don't think that's weird, do you?"

"Of course not!" exclaimed Madoka, just a bit louder than she'd been intending. She flushed a bit, but kept going. "Everyone should follow what they're passionate about. Share it with the world! You're so amazing, Homura – anything you're into has to be just as amazing!"

Now there was no way she was imagining Homura's reddened face. But she supposed the beautiful girl was just a little embarrassed at sharing this side of her personality for the first time.

"Do you have a favorite genre?" she added, when Homura didn't say anything further. "Favorite title?"

"I, err…enjoy many kinds," said the brunette, fidgeting a bit upon the bench. "Shounen, shoujo, seinen, josei, even some kids' manga. But, I…I suppose the thing that most draws me to a story is…is…"

But whatever it was, she didn't seem capable of forcing the words out. Slowly, cheeks burning, she shook her head.

Suddenly, Madoka remembered what'd sparked all of this, on the walk home yesterday that seemed an entire lifetime ago. About the manga she'd borrowed from her dad and lent to Homura…

And what the raven-haired girl had said about it.

"It's…It's…yuri stuff, isn't it?" mumbled Madoka, her own pale cheeks now burning just as brightly. The stray thought that at least now they matched only made her embarrassment more intense.

Nevertheless, she found the other girl replying with a nod, if a barely perceptible one.

"Whether it's an action series or a sports manga…" she said, very quietly. "Nothing sucks me in more than a love story between two girls. Maybe…because they're usually so idealized. I never had that. Growing up, I didn't know who I was. And…once I discovered that part of myself…"

Homura had one of those distant, unreadable looks in her eyes again, as if she wasn't the only one being spoken to anymore.

"Everything since has been heartache," she finished, just in time for the bus to finally pull up and cut their conversation short.

[-]

Mami Tomoe combed the streets of Mitakihara City, anxious and panicked and doing a very poor job of hiding that fact.

Most people, she supposed, would probably have called the police after discovering their apartment broken into and their young charge nowhere to be found. If she was even slightly brave, she would've done the same, damn the consequences.

But complicating matters was the fact that, legally speaking, she and Nagisa had no relationship whatsoever. She'd simply taken in the little girl off the street, and hadn't made even a nominal effort to locate her family or report to child services.

Besides, there was something that rankled in the back of her mind, whenever she considered contacting the authorities. An instinctive feeling that, somehow, she shouldn't be drawing that kind of attention to herself.

The feeling wasn't a rational one, and in this case it was unacceptably selfish. But ultimately, it just wound up another piece in the pile of reasons why she should hate herself.

Still, the even more selfish thing would be simply to wallow in such matters. At least this way, she was doing something about it.

Even if she didn't yet have a single thing to show for her efforts.

She'd started off with all the obvious spots. Toy stores. Cake shops. Every last corner market or park or arcade she'd ever taken Nagisa to while running errands.

By mid-morning, she was fairly certain she'd covered every single establishment in Mitakihara that served cheese.

But the white-haired girl failed to turn up anywhere. Of course, Mami had no idea if she'd simply been spooked by the mysterious intruders, and run off on her own – or if she'd been kidnapped.

The fact that her bedroom window was open, with no signs of being forced, indicated the former was more likely…but if it was the latter, then all this searching was for naught.

Nagisa could be tied up somewhere, dark and cold and hungry, while she wasted time.

Disgusted with herself as she exited an entirely Nagisa-less Wak ō Garden, Mami finally managed to screw up enough courage to do what she should've done hours ago. Pulling out her cell phone, she moved to begin dialing 110.

But before she could enter the third digit, she overheard a snippet of conversation that made her freeze up completely.

"God, I'm so bored jus' waitin' around here like this! We know where Akemi is! Let's take her out already!"

It was less the words than the voice itself which seized hold of her attention. Because she was certain she'd heard it before – just the previous night.

She had never gotten a good look at her attackers, but the first one had started speaking to the second, right before Mami lost consciousness.

There was no mistaking it. They were here.

Slowly, careful not to draw attention to herself, Mami maneuvered through the thick crowd, trying to figure out where the voices were coming from. In the meantime, she took in the second one's reply.

"You need to be patient, dearest. And please, we've been over this. You must avoid invoking the target's name if at all possible. Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear."

The target…did that mean they were referring to "Akemi"? Homura Akemi? What did she have to do with all this?

"We nailed her once, we can do it again! Jus' need ta get her cornered an' keep her from healin'!"

The more Mami heard, the less she understood. But she seemed to be getting closer to the source.

"You know well that the target is significantly stronger than either of us. Even combined, we are no match for her in a direct confrontation. Stealth and subterfuge will be our best weapons."

The blonde still wasn't sure of the context, but one thing was clear. They were talking about attacking Homura. She didn't know the eighth-grader all that well – apart from that small, nagging part of her brain that insisted she did – but she still couldn't allow that to happen.

These two were dangerous, and needed to be stopped.

"Hey, I'm all fer stealth. That's why I used a sniper rifle an' not my magic. But c'mon, jus' let me have a little fun with her. Please, O…"

Her words were suddenly cut off, as if someone had forcibly grabbed her attention.

"Hold a moment. We're being watched."

Mami's blood ran cold. Instinctively, she began to back away.

Unfortunately, the mysterious pair were quicker on the uptake than she was. Dainty but surprisingly strong hands seized her from behind, pulling her close.

"Well, well, Tomoe-sama," said a girl she'd never seen before, her features stunning and beautiful and yet utterly cold. "It seems we have underestimated you."

She placed one of those hands to Mami's temple. There was a flash of bright, white light…

And then the world fell away once more.

[-]

"Don't see why ya expect this'll make a difference," complained Kyoko, kicking the dirt with her foot in lieu of anything to do. "So what if Kaname an' Akemi are missin' a few screws too? Won't get ya any closer ta explainin' any o' this."

"Maybe not," Sayaka responded, as she leaned against the back of the school gym building. "But more data certainly can't hurt."

"Lookin' at my math grade, I'd have ta disagree with ya there," said the redhead, chuckling at her own lame joke.

The two had been waiting here for almost twenty minutes, having risen early at Sayaka's insistence in order to get a head-start on, as the blue-haired girl put it, "the mystery of the century!"

(Mind, she'd still managed to sleep past her alarm and required Kyoko's peculiar brand of mammary-style wake-up call, but that was neither here nor there.)

Of course, as Kyoko had seen fit to point out at least three times so far, their early arrival didn't make the bus come any faster. And since they couldn't actually get started until the other two showed up…

"An' what if they don't decide ta come?" asked the redhead, again breaking the silence out of sheer boredom. "Yer email was pretty vague. An'…kinda threatenin'. Maybe ya spooked her off."

"Madoka will be here," Sayaka declared confidently. "Whatever else happens, she's still my best friend. She's been my best friend since we were in diapers. That's never gonna change."

"Ya sure 'bout that?" said Kyoko, crossing her arms and frowning. "Cuz from where I stand, it looks like she's got herself a whole new bestie these days. One who definitely wants ta jump her bones, but hey. Not like I'm one ta judge."

The other girl's blue eyes immediately went wide with alarm. "Wh…Wh…WhWhaaaaaaat?!" she stammered.

"Ya seriously couldn't tell?" asked Kyoko, as she popped a piece of strawberry-flavored Rocky into her mouth. "Like, she's definitely not on my level o' mad flirt-game, but c'mon. The only way ya look that intensely at someone is if ya either wanna kill 'em dead, or screw their brains out. An' she's gone ta too many pettin' zoos an' kitty cafes with Kaname fer me ta believe it's the first one."

"Y…Yeah, but…it's different with you! You're just joking around!" Sayaka exclaimed. "Akemi's different. Sorry, but I don't trust her any farther than I can throw her. If she thinks she can make a move on someone as innocent and naïve as Madoka…"

At this, Kyoko suddenly looked askance, biting straight through her stick.

"I'm not always jokin' around…" she mumbled, out the corner of her mouth.

But Sayaka didn't appear to have heard her. The two of them were finally joined by another pair, whose uniforms matched their own.

Kyoko couldn't help but notice that their hands were very close together, as if they'd recently been holding onto each other.

"Let us get this over with quickly, Sayaka Miki," said Homura. "Homeroom starts in eight minutes."

"This shouldn't take long," Sayaka replied, a scowl upon her face as she regarded the raven-haired girl. "I just need to know one thing from both of you…"

She took a deep breath before turning her attention to Madoka, her expression softening as she looked upon her oldest and dearest friend.

Then, finally…

"How much do you remember about the last month?"

[-]

"…And that's everything," finished Tomohisa Kaname, leaning his elbows down upon the bar as he finished off his first drink of the night. "Do you, uh…think I did alright?"

His wife, by contrast, was confidently polishing off her sixth glass. Once the expensive foreign beer was safely in her stomach, the businesswoman held up a finger, let out a little hiccup, and then answered the question with a knowing smirk.

"Let it never be said I'm any kind of expert in parental advise…" she said. "But all things considered, I'd say you did goddamn fantastic."

Tomohisa let out a deep sigh of relief. "That's good to hear," he told her. "I'll be honest, I was winging the heck out of it. Giving my teenage girl tips on how to pick up another teenage girl is…let's just say, it's not exactly inside my comfort zone."

"If it was, I'd be a little disturbed," Junko teased. "But really, Tomo, you worry too much. Those kids will be fine. Honestly, everything you've just told me sets my mind at ease."

Her husband's brow furrowed slightly. "How so?" he asked.

Junko's smirk widened as far as it possibly could as she accepted yet another tall class from the fancily dressed French bartender.

Then, with a wink toward her husband, she responded, "Because, honey, Homura Akemi is in as much in love with our daughter as I am with booze. Oh…and you too, of course."

Tomohisa, who was amply used to his wife's playful nature, took the joking put-down in stride. But his jaw still dropped slightly as he processed this new information.

"I never really noticed…but then, I guess I wasn't exactly looking," he said. "Suppose it does explain why she's been around the house so much. Or why she jumped at the chance to spend the week at Akane's."

"We don't know all that much about her, in the grand scheme of things. My worry was how she might react if she confessed, and our Madoka-chan turned her down. Not everyone takes rejection well," explained the businesswoman. "But now that we know it's mutual, that removes a lot of the sting. Maybe it'll work out, maybe it won't. But at least the potential is there."

"Sh…Should we tell her?" murmured Tomohisa, leaning in. "Maybe it's not our place, but…Madoka was so adamant. Certain that Akemi-san could never, ever return her feelings. You know she's always had issues with self-confidence."

Junko nodded slowly, her expression solemn.

"I won't deny that," she whispered back. "But I think that's precisely why we shouldn't interfere. She needs this, Tomo. To be able to come to terms with these feelings on her own. And then, if and when the time is right…to act on them."

"That's always been the hardest part of being a dad, for me," the bespectacled man admitted. "Figuring out when to step back…and let them find their own way."

"No matter how old they get, the instinct's always there to swoop in and save the day," said Junko, nodding again in agreement. "But that's not always the healthiest response. In my heart, she'll always be my baby girl. But we have to face facts. She's growing up."

Tomohisa placed one hand over his wife's, running his fingers along hers.

"Alright…if you think it's best," he breathed out, before tilting his head to the side. "You know, it's funny. I agonized for ages about coming out to my folks. Mom got it immediately, dad…tried to. Still, he got there eventually. And I guess I'm glad I made it a little easier for Akane."

"It was a different time. Especially in Japan," replied Junko.

Her husband's upper lip twitched. "You're telling me," he remarked, fingers playing absently with his glasses. "Look at Madoka. She didn't even hesitate to tell me her crush was on another girl. Hesitated on other stuff, sure…but not that. I guess I'm just proud."

"Well, she is staying with the two gayest women in Mitakihara City," Junko stated jokingly. "And I work in the corporate world, so that's saying something. Get a couple of these into Kobayashi from IT, and she'll rant your ear off for twenty minutes about her maid fetish."

She gestured pointedly toward her beer glass, which in the past few minutes had mysteriously happened to become empty once more.

Tomohisa shared his wife's playful grin, though he also surreptitiously collected a tall glass of water from the bartender and pushed it in front of her.

"Guess if now is the time for Madoka to have 'that' talk as a young queer girl…" he said, as Junko gratefully downed the liquid in a couple of gulps. "Then there are worse people to handle it than Akane."

The businesswoman put down her water glass a few seconds later, tried and failed to suppress a small burp, and then flushed as pink as her daughter's hair.

"Just as long as it's her and not Kunizuka-san," she muttered, her tone now halfway between facetious and dead-serious. "Love the woman, truly I do. But should not be doling out advise to impressionable schoolgirls."

Her husband chuckled, the tone of his laughter somewhere in that same in-between space.

"I'll drink to that," he declared, knowing well she didn't require the excuse as the bartender slid over his second beer, and her eighth.

Their glasses clinked.

[-]

Madoka blinked several times, unsure whether she understood the question.

"Umm…what do you mean, Sayaka-chan?" she asked, shifting around awkwardly along the balls of her feet.

"Look, Madoka, that ninth-grade girl…Mami-sempai…she's not the only one missing chunks out of her memory," said the blue-haired girl, her expressive pensive. "We compared notes, and me, Kyoko…even Hitomi and Kyosuke…"

"May I ask what it is you've forgotten?" Homura cut in, her arms crossed and her fingers tapping impatiently.

"A helluva lot, dependin' on how ya count," Kyoko answered loudly, before her roommate could. Her tone was largely flippant, dismissive, but there was a noticeable undercurrent of something like genuine worry. "How me an' Li'l Miss Blue-is-the-Warmest-Color met, fer one thing. I got a lotta bits an' pieces in my head, but not the big picture. So weird."

"Everything about Kyoko coming to live with us is a big, jumbled-up mess. For both of us," added Sayaka. "When I put it out of my mind, when I don't think about it too hard…everything seems fine. But the moment I try digging in deeper…"

She sighed, fingers rubbing wearily into her face.

"Meanwhile, Hitomi and Kyosuke have apparently got no clue how they became a couple," she continued on, unable to keep a hint of bitterness from leaking into her voice. "They know she confessed, they know they got together, they remember their dates and crap…but there's holes all over. How did it happen? When? Where? Why?"

"That's…so scary…" murmured Madoka, shivering. "But no…I'm sorry. I can't think of anything like that I've forgotten. Homura-chan, what about you?"

The brunette didn't say anything, merely shaking her head no. Her expression was again unreadable.

"The only common thread I can find is everything that's disappeared seems to be from the last month or so," said Sayaka. "Go back a little farther than that and everything's crystal-clear. But once we hit somewhere around mid-March…"

Homura noticeably stiffened, but still didn't speak up.

"She's got some whack-a-doodle theories 'bout us all getting' brain-blasted by some weird sci-fi shit. Or somethin'," Kyoko provided another, questionably helpful interjection. "Me, I think there's gotta be a reasonable explanation. Like lead in the cafeteria food!"

Sayaka paused in her explanation to side-eye her roommate. "You eat more cafeteria food than any of us," she couldn't help but point out.

"An' my memory's a big slice o' Swiss cheese," the redhead countered immediately, as she popped in yet another Rocky stick. "Thus provin' my point."

Madoka suddenly realized something, however. "H…Hold on," she said, somewhat hesitantly. "Didn't Mami-sempai say something about…uh…three years? That she'd been forgetting things that long?"

"That is something to consider," mused Sayaka. "But if your short-term memory's screwy, then your perception of long-term memories might not be the most reliable. It's possible she only thinks she's been having problems for three years."

Kyoko shrugged nonchalantly. "No way ta know fer sure," she declared. "She's the only one who can grok her own head."

The blue-haired girl tapped at her chin, processing all this.

"Then maybe we should go in a different direction. Try figuring out why we're the ones affected," she replied, her voice low and even. "Like…I assumed that, whatever it was, it had something to do with our 'group,' y'know? But if Madoka and Akemi-san weren't affected…"

"Affected by what?" Homura all but snapped, her abrupt resurfacing into the conversation as biting as it was sudden. "You keep talking as if this is…some sort of disease, or an enemy to fight. Instead of what it really is."

She looked Sayaka Miki straight in the eyes and, without an ounce of pity, said, "A little girl, so obsessed with pursuing a childish notion of 'justice' that she needs to invent a conspiracy out of whole cloth, just to connect a few memory lapses."

Slowly, Sayaka's trembling hands formed into fists, and her jaw clenched tight, as she glared daggers back at the other girl.

"You…You bitch!" she exclaimed, taking a step forward. "You wanna say that again to my face?!"

"I believe I just did," Homura stated coolly. She wasn't backing down.

Kyoko just stood to the side, leaning against the gym building and continuing to munch her Rocky as she enjoyed the show. Madoka, for her part, was at a lost as to how to react to the sudden escalation, and instinctively threw herself between the pair.

"Stop it, stop it!" she cried out, extending out an arm toward each girl. "You two are my best friends in the world! Why are you always fighting?!"

"Madoka…" muttered the blue-haired girl, looking a bit chastised. "I…I mean…look, she started it!"

Homura appeared far less contrite, but nevertheless she said, eyes shifted to the side, "I…may have spoken too harshly. But that doesn't change the basic truth of my words. You're jumping to conclusions over evidence that's scant at best."

"I know that," growled Sayaka, even as she seemed to be doing her best to force her hackles back down. "But if we don't look into it, that's all it's gonna be. Sure, maybe I'm making something out of nothing. But I can't stand not being sure."

She clenched her teeth, before hissing out, "…Sure about whether I'm losing my goddamn mind."

If any of the girls had anything further to say, it was preempted by the clanging rings of the school bell.

"Whelp, those o' ya that actually care 'bout attendance an' shit better get a move on," drawled Kyoko, as the three girls around her scrambled to make it to class before roll call.

Well…Madoka and Sayaka did, anyway.

Homura Akemi, as usual, moved with all the quiet confidence of someone who'd never been late to anything in her life.

[-]

When Mami's eyes finally fluttered back open, they revealed a world only slightly less dark than the insides of her eyelids.

Compared to most people, she liked to think she actually had fairly good night vision, but in this pitch-blackness the most she could tell was that she was in a room somewhere. One that was fairly small and cramped, with no windows.

Attempts to move her body were absolutely fruitless; she was in a sitting position, and restrained by what felt like heavy ropes at her wrists, shoulders, waist, shins, ankles, and even neck.

"They really aren't taking any chances," she said to herself. She was surprised at how hoarse and parched her voice came out. How long had she been unconscious?

For that matter, who were her captors, exactly? She'd gotten a good look at one, right before they knocked her out, but her face was completely unfamiliar. And none of what she'd overheard shed any light on the mystery.

Sniper rifles? Targets? "Stealth and subterfuge"? Whoever the pair were, they spoke more like guerilla fighters than the types of people you'd expect to find wandering the streets of Mitakihara.

Especially since the girl she'd seen didn't appear very far from her own age. Far too pretty, far too…sheltered, to be a convincing soldier.

She had a bad feeling she'd just been thrown into something far beyond her ability to deal with.

With no other options to try in facilitating her escape – even wobbling the chair proved impossible, meaning it was probably bolted to the floor – Mami found her thoughts turning to other matters.

Namely, Nagisa.

Had this pair kidnapped the young girl as well? Was she currently being kept tied up, in a dark room just like this one? It seemed likely.

But then, that didn't actually get her any closer to solving the problem. How could she possibly help the child now, when she wasn't even capable of helping herself?

Mami's eyes narrowed. She'd never been one for giving up. Not when someone was truly counting on her, for the first time since…

She cut that thought off at the root – no point and no time for wallowing in the past now – and instead concentrated on trying to pick objects out of the blackness. Most were nothing but vague outlines, but if she focused hard enough she might be able to discern more.

Her chair seemed to be facing something like a…shelving unit, perhaps? The stacks of items arrayed in linear rows suggested it, even if she couldn't quite make out what the items were.

In that case, she was probably in some kind of storage room or large closet. Likely with thick, insulated walls so no one could hear her screaming. They hadn't bothered to gag her, after all, and she doubted any captors who were this thorough with her restraints would simply forget something like that.

A sudden thought struck her. That must mean her mouth was intentionally left uncovered. For interrogation, perhaps? But no one was here to ask questions.

Unless…

It took a great deal of effort, fighting with the ropes wrapped around her neck, but her head was fairly flexible. With a bit of fidgeting, she was able to move it a few centimeters to the right, then the left. And that's when she saw it.

The only splash of color in this entire, pitch-dark room. The dim, blinking red of a security camera.

"Very well, you've had your fun," she spoke toward it, hoping someone was listening. "I'm willing to cooperate now. Surely you must have some reason to keep me locked up here, beyond pure sadism."

But no answer came.

"Please, I'm begging you. A little girl needs me," she said, hoping that perhaps her captors might have some humanity she could appeal to. "If you reunite us, I'll do whatever you ask. She can't survive without me. And…And I…"

She let out a deep, rattling, defeated breath. "And I need her too," she whispered, a hitch in her throat.

A few seconds passed in dead silence. Then, something very strange happened.

After the past twenty-four hours, Mami was no stranger to the sensation of losing consciousness. But the previous two times, while the process had been quick, it'd still been a process – a feeling of her sense of the world and herself rapidly slipping away.

This time, her mind simply stopped.

In the room adjacent to hers, a middle school-aged girl leaned across a security console, watching this in real time. Then, without looking away from the screen, she pulled a burner phone from her pocket and dialed a very familiar number.

It was the only number she ever called, after all.

"It happened," she said. "How far away are you, dearest?"

The voice on the other end cooed, clearly pleased by the pet name, but nevertheless answered promptly.

"One hundred meters. I measured exactly!"

The girl smiled. Her lover sounded so proud of herself.

"Then that particular 'rule' remains unchanged. That is good to know," she responded. "You've done very well. I promise that once you return, you will be…bountifully rewarded."

The other girl's reaction to this news might well have registered to instruments as a low-magnitude earthquake.

"Don't worry, mistress! I'll never, ever, ever, ever disappoint you! If I do, then shatter me and leave me for dead! I live only for you!"

"Let's hope that won't be necessary," said the first girl, the corner of her lip twitching slightly. "Now, hurry along. We have a great deal more work to do."

"Of course! But…umm…what should I do with the Soul Gem? Should I hide it somewhere?"

"No, dearest. Bring it with you," she ordered her lover, knowing her words would be accepted without question. "There's no need to worry about Mami Tomoe. Even once her soul reconnects with her body…she has no chance whatsoever of escape. And besides…"

Her gaze turned back to the security camera feed. As expected, the blonde's body soon roused, looking around with confusion. She had no idea of the two minutes or so she'd lost.

"…We'll need her alive if we expect to run any further experiments."

[-]

Homura sat at her desk, pretending to type on her laptop as Saotome-sensei droned on about the difference between the commissive modality ("I shall definitely go with you to your aunt's funeral on Saturday!") and the volitive ("If only I could go with you to your aunt's funeral on Saturday, but you see, something came up…").

Not that she was really taking in a word of it, of course.

She'd heard this particular lesson dozens of times before, after all. While it wasn't an especially noteworthy one, in and of itself, in an "average" timeline tonight would be the night that Sayaka Miki finally fell into despair and became a Witch.

So it was a little hard not to commit the day's events to memory.

Memory…the very word made Homura's skin crawl. Though she did her best not to show it, inwardly, every part of her body was pulsing and tensing.

How was this possible? How could Sayaka Miki have figured out so much, so quickly?

The brunette shook her head, attempting to clear it. She'd been sloppy, careless. Focused so much on one threat she'd neglected to account for a dozen others. After so many time flows, she thought she'd have moved past such elementary mistakes.

If she was to continue protecting Madoka in this new world, she couldn't afford to slip like that again.

A blinking icon on her desktop caught her eye and shook her out of her reverie. The girl in question had just sent her a chat invite.

Mado-nyan: im sorry homuchan

SpiderLily: For what, Madoka? You didn't do anything wrong.

Mado-nyan: yea but…i shudnt ve yelld liek that

Mado-nyan: i just dont want any1 2 fite

SpiderLily: Don't apologize, Madoka. I was the one who escalated things with Sayaka Miki, even after you asked me not to. I'll try to do better. She's your friend, which means that she is my friend too.

That was a bald-faced lie. Homura didn't really give a damn about Sayaka Miki. From her perspective, it'd been years since her initial pity and empathy for the blue-haired girl – who was, in a sense, going through many of the same issues Homura herself was – had given way to utter apathy.

But it was true that Madoka's mood was inseparably tied to that of her closest friends. While Homura's heart had closed off long ago, Madoka's was more bountiful and glowing than a star. She'd learned well that so long as she and Sayaka were constantly at odds, Madoka would always feel torn between them.

That's why she'd chosen to handle Sayaka Miki – and the rest – the way she had. If they were happy, then Madoka was happy.

And if Madoka was happy, then everything she'd worked for was truly worth the cost.

Mado-nyan: homuchan

Mado-nyan: can i ask u sumting

Mado-nyan: its hard 2 say outloud

SpiderLily: There is never anything you should hesitate to ask me, Madoka. I am at your disposal completely.

Mado-nyan: ok

Mado-nyan: u c, umm…

Mado-nyan: oh god this is hard

SpiderLily: Take all the time you need. It's not as if today's lesson will get any more interesting.

Mado-nyan: alrite

Mado-nyan: ok do u

Mado-nyan: do u find me…ummmm…

Mado-nyan: …

Mado-nyan: lemme try agin

Mado-nyan: do u

Mado-nyan: do u think im

Mado-nyan: god god god

Mado-nyan: am i

Mado-nyan: …

Mado-nyan: pretty

Homura stared at the screen for a full ten seconds, unable to completely process what she was looking at.

Had…Had Madoka actually just asked…

Mado-nyan: O WAIT GOD DONT ANSER

Mado-nyan: …

Mado-nyan: sorry its just

Mado-nyan: wen we talkd yester day

Mado-nyan: yknow

Mado-nyan: wen u askd bout that girl who calld me cute

Homura hesitated for a moment, remembering the moment vividly. Then she typed…

SpiderLily: What about it, Madoka?

Mado-nyan: i told u

Mado-nyan: i get calld that alot

Mado-nyan: but

Mado-nyan: umm

Mado-nyan: not, like

Mado-nyan: pretty

Mado-nyan: or

Mado-nyan: uh

Mado-nyan: …

Mado-nyan: booty full

In another time, another life, Homura might've had occasion to laugh at the unfortunate typo. But not right now.

These days, her laughter was a very rare thing. And besides…

Her chest was pounding far too hard for anything else.

Mado-nyan: sorry i

Mado-nyan: i mean

Mado-nyan: its not liek theres any boys i can ask

Mado-nyan: or anyting

Mado-nyan: thatd be…

Mado-nyan: um

Mado-nyan: way 2 embrasing

Homura agreed that she would certainly prefer Madoka not to ask any boys whether they found her "pretty."

Though perhaps for slightly different reasons.

Mado-nyan: but

Mado-nyan: but i thought

Mado-nyan: maybe

Mado-nyan: with u

Mado-nyan: itd b difrent

Mado-nyan: …

Mado-nyan: im so sorry

Mado-nyan: thats awful

Homura was about to ask for clarification, but before she could click "Send" another torrent of messages flooded in.

Mado-nyan: ure a person not a prop

Mado-nyan: just cuz ure gay i shouldnt

Mado-nyan: treat u any difrent

Mado-nyan: that was sell fish of me

Mado-nyan: god im

Mado-nyan: i feel so bad

Mado-nyan: just 4get i sed anyting

Mado-nyan: please i

Mado-nyan: i just

SpiderLily: Madoka.

SpiderLily: You are the most beautiful girl I have ever met in my life.

Homura's eyes went wide, looking at the screen, and then down at her fingers. Why had she typed that?

She was already in a compromised state, after that conversation behind the gym. Not all her defenses were back up.

She needed to stop, right now. She needed to…

SpiderLily: I mean that sincerely. If your question is whether I am physically attracted to you, then the answer is yes.

SpiderLily: Your hair, your face, your body. All are incredibly attractive. You shouldn't doubt yourself like that. You shouldn't doubt that you are a very pretty young woman.

SpiderLily: And I'll tell you the same thing a hundred times over if I have to.

The raven-haired girl gazed upon her messages in stunned horror. Why couldn't she stop herself?

This wasn't one of her nighttime fantasies, imagining impossible scenarios where her feelings, her desires, might actually be returned.

This was the real Madoka, and these were real words she was sending her. Words she couldn't take back.

And yet, at the same time, it was so similar to any number of those fantasies. Where the sweet, innocent girl would come to her more worldly best friend, confiding feelings and emotions she hadn't yet come to grips with.

Feelings they could explore together. Slowly. Gradually.

Or, when those fantasies happened to come in that twilight hour right before waking…

Sometimes a little less slowly.

Homura pulled at her collar, feeling suddenly very hot. Her screen, the teacher, the room – everything was starting to spin.

Utterly disoriented, her arm shot into the air. "Saotome-sensei, I think I need to see the nurse," she half-said, half-shouted.

She'd just been desperate to get some fresh air; to get away from all these people so she could calm down her treacherous heart. It was a mark of how screwed-up her mind was, that she hadn't considered what this would obviously lead to.

"Oh…alright then…" replied Kazuko Saotome, clearly off-put from being interrupted in the middle of her latest rant. "Kaname-san, please escort Akemi-san to the nurse's office."

"Umm…okay," stuttered the last voice Homura needed to hear right now. "F…Follow me, Homura-chan."

[-]

Madoka kept stealing glances at the other girl as they walked down the hall side-by-side, uncertain how to break the silence or even whether or not she should.

God, she was so stupid. What'd she been thinking, asking a question like that? It was grossly inappropriate, offensively objectifying, pathetically needy…

And had also given her exactly the answer she'd been most hoping for, in her heart of hearts.

For the hundredth time in so many seconds, Madoka mentally chastised herself. Obviously, when presented with such a stupidly attention-seeking question, most people weren't going to say, "Well actually, I happen to find you utterly hideous, and wouldn't consider dating you if you were the last person on Earth."

That had to be all this was. Homura was just being a good friend, and trying to boost her rock-bottom levels of self-esteem. A situation she put the brunette in far too often.

Still, she'd clearly made things very awkward. Homura wasn't the most talkative sort even on the best of days, but she'd never given Madoka this much of the cold shoulder.

She needed to fix this.

"Uh…Homu-chan…" she finally managed to say. "I…I'm sorry I keep apologizing, but…"

She was acutely aware of the irony in that statement, but neither of them commented on it.

Instead, she swallowed audibly, and then told the other girl, "But what I did back there wasn't right. I stepped over the line, and instead of calling me out, you were nothing but kind and wonderful. Thank you, Homu-chan…for being the friend I needed today."

Homura stopped short.

For the briefest of moments, Madoka felt an intense pang of déjà vu. Looking around, the feeling made sense; they were in the very same enclosed hallway where Homura had asked her that strange question, the day she transferred in.

And yet, that wasn't all the feeling was. Had…Had that been the first time they'd stopped cold in this hallway, overlooking the rest of campus?

Of course it was, the rational part of her mind argued. That'd been the first time she and Homura had met.

So…why couldn't she get the question out of her head?

That small mystery would have to wait, because Homura was facing her now, and her lips were moving.

"Madoka, I…" she said, her voice surprisingly soft and hesitant. She didn't really sound like herself at all. "I don't know if I can keep doing this."

The pink-haired girl's lips quivered at her friend's tone – at the sheer pain in her words.

"Wh…What do you mean, Homura-chan?" she asked.

"…Pretending," responded Homura, after a noticeable pause. "Pretending like everything's normal when it isn't. Pretending as if I don't…as if you and I…"

Madoka's rose-colored eyes went wide, as she saw tears begin to form in Homura's indigo ones.

"This is everything I've ever wanted. And yet it's nothing like what I want," she continued on, voice barely a whisper. "And I've spent so long telling myself that what I want doesn't matter that I…!"

The girl tensed up, her throat closing, unable to say anymore. She was gripping onto herself, desperately looking anywhere but in Madoka's eyes.

"H…Homura-chan…" mumbled Madoka, as she felt her own tears begin to stream down her cheeks. "Talk to me."

But Homura's gaze remained askance, as she frantically blinked away the mist.

Then, lips barely moving, she said the words, "I'm sorry. I'm not strong enough."

And leapt straight through the glass windows surrounding the hallway, toward the ground fifty meters below.