Chapter Six - Amber Heart
Homura did not often receive texts. She only got messages when her phone company had to let her know she was running out of data, which happened regularly because she had the cheapest plan possible.
So the message she got on Saturday morning came as a surprise. She had planned to sleep in, having gone deep into the night writing; one groggy eye cracked open to the glowing screen on her bedside table.
[Let's go on a date!]
Her heart jolted a little, until she saw who it was from. Exhaling, she picked up the phone and turned so she was laying flat on her stomach, a storm of black hair falling around her face.
[That's rather forward of you,] Homura replied.
She could feel Madoka's sheepish grin through the screen. [Ah…sorry. My roommate always calls our outings dates, even though she's got a girlfriend…but I still want to go out with you. Are you free today?]
[Well, I'm not busy.]
[So cold! You'd make a terrible girlfriend.]
Homura sighed as she rose from her bedsheets, stretching both arms above her head. She had only slept for about four hours, but it would have to do. Writers ought to chase inspiration, not the other way around.
They met that afternoon at the campus cafe, a quiet little place tucked between the philosophy and nursing departments. Homura arrived first, taking a seat for herself by the window. Madoka arrived soon in a light blouse and shorts that complimented her slender figure; Homura thought she looked like a summer dandelion.
"Hey! Did you wait long?" The girl panted slightly as she approached the table. A slight sheen of sweat clung to her brow, but she smelled nice; a hint of strawberry.
Homura snorted. "That's something you would say on an actual date. And no, I just got here."
Madoka made a face.
Homura just wanted a black coffee, but Madoka insisted on ordering the crushed ice sundae the cafe carried. Homura had seen it only in pictures: a monstrous thing piled higher than all her favorite books, complete with an assortment of fruits and syrup.
"That thing's massive. How in the world will you finish it?"
"Not just me, we're going to share it!"
"Um, I don't have much of a sweet tooth."
"Well, then you can just watch."
A young waiter brought out the sundae on a wide tray, walking slowly so it wouldn't tip and fall. Homura made a face of her own as it was placed on the table between them; it looked like a melted wedding cake.
As Madoka licked her chops and rubbed her hands together, some of the other patrons in the cafe began glancing their way and whispering to each other. Apparently not everyone was brazen enough to order the Mitakihara University Sundae on a whim.
Madoka whipped out her phone and got ready to take a picture of the sundae. Homura tried to inch out of frame, but the girl insisted she stay put.
"It's to commemorate our first date. Besides, I need something dark and muted for the background since this thing's so colorful."
Homura glanced down at her black shirt and light gray cardigan, and had to concede her wardrobe was rather drab.
"Okay, time to dig in!" Madoka dug her spoon into the sundae and scooped it into her mouth, putting a hand to her cheek. "Ugh…I've been craving this all week. You're missing out, Homura."
As Madoka stuffed herself, Homura eyed her from across the table. Now that she thought about it, this was probably what normal Madoka was like. The first time they met she was crying in the library (the memory made her cringe). After that, at the Midoriiro; and then by chance under the rain.
She supposed studying Madoka's state of normalcy was important in itself. Whether it was a front or not, it would serve as valuable reference data.
Madoka swallowed another spoonful of ice cream and glanced around the cafe. "Looks like everyone's studying for exams. Do you have midterms, Homura?"
"Next week, yes. But I'm ready."
The girl sighed dramatically. "Oh, I get it. You're the studious type. Well, it makes sense. You wouldn't understand the struggle of us mere mortals."
Homura blinked. "Well given that you're here with me instead of studying, I take it you're also ready for your exams."
Madoka blushed and started eating faster. "Of course, I'm super ready! More ready than I've ever been in my life. So ready I'm not ready at all."
Homura made a bemused face. "Which classes are you in?"
"I'm clearing my gen eds first while I decide on a major. I'm in this east asian literature class, that's my first exam next week…"
"With professor Kamishiro?"
"Oh, yeah. Did you take his class?"
"Yes, last semester. It shouldn't be too much trouble; the class is rather straightforward, isn't it?"
"…you thought it was easy?"
"Well, yes. I never really studied for it. Why, do you-"
"Geez! If you're so smart then maybe you should just teach me everything for the exam!" Madoka grabbed a second spoon and thrust it into Homura's hands. "You've made me mad now. Eat!"
"But-"
"Eat!"
After they both stumbled out of the cafe with bulging stomachs (the cafe staff was very impressed), Madoka wanted to go to the shopping district. More specifically the uptown shopping district, which Homura understood as being more geared towards nerd culture, otaku stuff.
Is she into that sort of thing? Homura wondered, as Madoka took her hand and pulled her along the sidewalk like an excited child. She had walked through that area a few time before; it was all anime and manga shops, themed cafes and girls in maid outfits handing out flyers, that sort of thing. Not really her scene.
I guess if I'm going to be writing about it, I should do some research.
The shopping district was packed. It was the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday. Madoka squeezed Homura's hand as she led her through the crush of people. Some of them wore face masks, their sweat glistening on their foreheads; in the mass of human flesh it felt like a summer day, despite it being spring.
Their destination was a medium-sized store in a shallow back alley of the shopping district, its entrance sheltered from the sweltering heat. A single bright neon sign twinkled above the door, a folding chalkboard placed out front.
"What is this place exactly?" Homura asked.
"It's a scale model store," Madoka explained, ushering her inside. "A hobby shop, basically. They sell all sorts of stuff, and they've got displays too, which they switch out every month."
Beyond the entrance was a single stairwell that led both up and down. They descended to the lower level, finding another opening that was covered by a bunch of those hippie door beads, for some reason. Madoka swept them aside and entered the store first.
"Hey, Mr. Yanagida! How've you been?"
"Oh, Madoka. It's been a while." A man who appeared to be in his early thirties greeted her from behind the counter. He was sitting with a light novel in his hands, his wire thin frame hunched over the story like he was protecting it from something. Dark curly hair fell over his eyes, and he wore a face mask for some reason, despite being indoors and the store being mostly empty.
The girl pranced up to the counter and rested her elbows on it. "I had some stuff going on. Life stuff. Are you over that cold yet?"
"Yes, it's been a month. I got over it weeks ago."
"Then why the mask?"
"I figure it's a good hedge against never getting sick again in my life."
Madoka snorted. "You're as meticulous as ever!"
Homura entered behind Madoka, scanning the store. There were no windows, it being underground. Fluorescent lights cast a pale glow over everything. The counter was by the door, but the rest of the floor space was occupied by rows of shelfs stacked high with boxes of scale model kits.
It was breathtakingly cluttered. Homura had the sense she couldn't look anywhere without seeing something; an old 1990s Gundam, a World War II airplane, a Lamborghini. All the boxes were haphazardly stacked upon one another with no apparent rhyme or reason. The floor was littered with random bits and pieces of plastic. It felt less like walking into a store and more like entering someone's home; she had the sensation that she was witnessing a lifestyle.
The man's eyes flitted over to her. "Friend of yours?"
Madoka brightened. "Oh yes, we met recently. Mr. Yanagida, this is Homura, my classmate from college. Homura, this is Mr. Yanagida. He's the owner of this shop."
Homura bowed her head politely as Yanagida waved loosely at her. "Pleasure. It's good to meet another one of Madoka's friends. I'd shake your hand, but it's an unhygienic practice."
"Mr. Yanagida's a germaphobe," Madoka explained.
"I'm not afraid of germs! I'm just pragmatic."
"Pragmatically germaphobic!"
"That doesn't even make any sense."
"No worries. I'm not too touchy feely either," Homura said with a slight smile. Yanagida saluted her in acknowledgement.
"Anyways, Mr. Yanagida," Madoka said impatiently, "Did you finish that thing?"
The man's eyes wrinkled as he smiled behind his face mask, and he closed his light novel before setting it aside. "I forgot we haven't seen each other in a while. Yes, I did in fact finish 'that thing.' Would you like to see it?"
Without waiting for a response, he rose from his chair and led them to the back of the store. The perimeter of the floor space was ringed by several glass display boxes, like the ones they had in jewelry stores, except these were packed to the brim with scale models. They seemed to be mostly World War II type models, planes and tanks and such, though Homura was no expert.
On top of the glass in the back was an upside down cardboard box that seemed to be concealing something. The box itself was rather large; about as long as a guitar case.
"I just put the finishing touches in last week," Yanagida said. "I need to go get someone to build a new case for this little lady, so until then she stays under the box. For your eyes only…"
Putting his hands on the box, he lifted it and revealed its contents.
"It's a boat," Homura observed.
A rather larger boat, in fact. More accurately it was an aircraft carrier. Even to her untrained eye, the model was incredibly well made; there was detail all the way down to the finishing of the metal hull and the texture of the paint. Moreover, it was huge; the model was easily multiple feet long. Several small fighter planes sat on the ship's deck, lined up neatly like pins.
"Not just any boat!" Madoka knelt down and circled the completed model, a thoughtful hand on her chin. "This is the legendary Yamato-class battleship, the Shinano! At its time it was the largest aircraft carrier every built. It could carry, like, fifty planes!"
"Forty seven," Yanagida corrected with a smile. "But yes. As you know there aren't a lot of actual pictures of this thing out there; I had to pull together a bunch of different sources and guess my way to building this. All the way down to the rocket launchers."
"Rocket launchers! Super cool!"
Yanagida laughed. "Very cool indeed."
A jingle sounded from the front of the store. A customer had arrived, his voice calling out from beyond the shelves.
"I need to take care of that. You two are free to look, but make sure you put the box back when you're done."
As he disappeared behind the shelves, Homura took a closer look at the carrier. There were even little people on top, wearing mechanic uniforms and hats. Not something she really cared for personally, but she could appreciate the amount of dedication it must have taken.
Madoka, meanwhile, was thumbing through a Wikipedia article.
"He even got all the armaments right," she gushed. "Eight dual purpose guns, thirty-five AA guns…and twelve twenty-eight barrel AA rocket launchers."
"Rocket launchers are pretty cool," Homura said neutrally.
"I know! This huge thing could do twenty eight knots! Amazing how they could move something so big way back then. Also…oh." Madoka trailed off sheepishly. "Sorry, I started going off again. This must not make any sense to you."
Homura shrugged. "I can't say it does, but I can appreciate the art. Besides, we've been over this before. I just didn't know you were into boats too."
Madoka smiled. "Not just boats. I think I'm just really into big, complex stuff. Tanks, planes, buildings, space ships…I enjoy building them, even if it's just a model. While building I always think stuff like, 'it's amazing they made this in real scale,' or 'I think I understand why they chose to design it this way.' I guess I feel a little closer to the creator. I feel like I understand something new."
"I think that's admirable," Homura offered. She looked down at the carrier. "Though I must say building something like this without instructions is really something. Is this an obscure ship?"
Madoka wagged a finger. "Not exactly. Japan just kept it super top secret while they were building it. Like, death-penalty-if-you-tell-anyone-about-it top secret. So not a lot of people knew what it looked like, let alone took pictures."
"But people must have seen it once it was ready to use, right? In the war."
The girl beside her got a sudden wistful look in her eyes. "You'd think so. But if I remember right, they sent her out to another base to finish construction when an American submarine found her. Four torpedoes later she was sunk. I always think that's so sad…this huge boat, this massive secret, all that work, sunk just like that."
After they were done looking at the carrier, they put the box back and joined Yanagida at the front of the store. Madoka did one last round through the merchandise to see if there was anything she wanted to pick up, but decided not to get anything.
"Bye, Mr. Yanagida!" Madoka waved with both hands from the door. "I'll be back sooner next time."
Yanagida closed his light novel and waved it back. "You're always welcome, Madoka. You're the only one I'll ever let leave without buying anything."
"Before we go," Homura said, "Do you have a bathroom I could use?" That sundae from earlier was starting to get to her.
Yanagida showed her to a surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly) clean bathroom in the back. Madoka called out that she would wait upstairs. Once Homura was done she emerged to find the man quietly reading behind the counter again. Homura wondered if he was always in that position, day after day, never moving until someone came in to his store.
"Thanks for letting me use your bathroom."
"No problem." Yanagida glanced up at her. "I'm just glad Madoka still finds time to swing by this dump every now and then. I mean, it's not exactly somewhere you expect college girls to be hanging out, if you catch my drift."
Homura glanced around and was forced to concur. Now that she thought about it, if Yanagida's toilet was that clean and he was a pragmatic germaphobe, why was this place such a mess?
"All I ever get is guys my age or older coming in here. And you know us, we're all tired from everything that happened, or didn't happen, before." Yanagida thumbed the page he was on. "But her? She's young, she's got spirit. And real passionate about this stuff, surprisingly. I thought she might just be putting on a show at first, but she's the real deal. Though I can't say the same about the one she usually drags along with her."
"Does she typically come with someone else?"
"Some other girl she's friends with. All she ever does is whine about being bored and wanting to leave when she comes, though. Guess I can't blame her, this stuff's not for everyone. Anyways, you were much better behaved. I guess I'm just glad she's got someone who'll let her gush and talk about stuff she cares about. Lord knows I didn't have that growing up."
Homura forced a smile, somewhat thrown off. "Well, it's the decent thing to do."
"You'd be surprised, you know. Most people don't stick around unless there's something in it for them. Anyways, I've got a soft spot for the kid. Don't tell her that. But I hope you'll keep being a good friend to her."
When Homura emerged from the stairwell, she was surprised to see Madoka speaking to someone in the alley.
"I just gotta say, you really caught my eye…don't see a lot of cuties like you around here."
A man, most likely in his mid to late twenties, was standing between Madoka and the alley entrance. The girl was standing with her back to the wall, fidgeting from foot to foot with a smile on her face.
"Oh, um…thank you? I don't really think I'm that cute…"
"Don't be ridiculous, you're a real stunner! I've got to know more about you. What do you say? Are you free right now?"
"Um, I'm waiting for my friend…"
"Great, she can come too! The more the merrier."
"Oh, I don't know…"
"Excuse me," Homura said, suddenly appearing between the two of them. "Can I help you?"
The man blinked at Homura's sudden appearance, but quickly put on a charming smile. "You can, actually. There's a nice place we can sit down and chat one block over, if you're interested."
"Sorry, but we aren't," Homura said nonchalantly, hooking her arm through Madoka's. "We'll be going now."
"Eh, what's the problem? You both got boyfriends?"
"No, we don't."
"Then-"
"But we both bat for the other team, so to speak."
"You both…oh."
Homura left him to figure that part out, this time being the one to pull Madoka along behind her. They moved quickly, letting the afternoon crowds swallow them up.
She didn't stop walking until she was sure they weren't being followed. They stopped by a nearby convenience store and bought two strawberry milk drinks, sipping on them as they caught their breath.
Madoka sucked on her straw till the carton contracted and set it down on the counter. Her cheeks were painted a soft red.
"How did you know?" She asked.
Homura glanced at her. "How did I know what?"
"That, um…" Madoka tugged at her collar, her flush deepening. "You know, what you said. About batting for the other team."
Homura blinked. "I didn't, I just said that to get him off us."
"Oh."
"Do you…bat for the other team?"
Madoka broke eye contact. "I mean, yeah…it's not like, public information or anything though. In fact, I don't even know if I count. I've never done anything. I've never batted for any team really."
"That doesn't change what you identify as. You could never bat and still be on the team."
"But if you don't bat, won't you get kicked off by the coach?"
"Who the hell is the coach? And how would he kick you off the team?"
"Maybe if the other players complain that you aren't pulling your weight."
"This metaphor is falling apart."
Madoka laughed. Homura felt a smile creeping up on her own face, despite her best efforts. "Okay, sorry. I'm just not used to talking about it. Only my roommate knows, actually. But…I feel like I can trust you."
"Well, I have no incentive to tell anybody."
Madoka stuck her tongue out. "You could have just said 'yes, you can.' You'd make a terrible girlfriend."
They sat in silence, watching people sift by as they sipped their drinks. It was hot, for spring; a plug-in fan swiveled slowly in the corner. It lulled Homura into a vague sense of complacency, a feeling she wasn't familiar with.
"So uh, do you also…" Madoka cleared her throat, "bat for the other team?"
Homura thought about it seriously before answering. "I've batted…but I'm not sure if I'm on the team." She finished her drink and tossed it in the trash. "Looks like that guy isn't following us. Let's go." Madoka followed, a thoughtful expression on her face.
They reentered the throng together. This time they walked side by side, hand in hand so as not to lose each other. Homura never quite realized how different walking was when she was holding onto someone else. She had to adjust her pace to match her partner's.
"Hey." The girl's fingers squeezed hers. "Is there anywhere you want to go? I feel like I've dragged you around the whole day, so I feel kind of bad. Especially about the hobby shop."
Homura watched her. "Yanagida said you usually bring someone else?"
Madoka nodded. "Yeah, my roommate. I bug her into coming, but she doesn't really like that sort of thing. Besides, she's been busy…I didn't feel like I could ask her to come today."
Something caught in Madoka's voice. But Homura didn't have the intuition to place it. So she chose not to ask.
"Don't feel bad. I had fun," Homura assured her. "I'll find something we can do."
As it turned out, there was a Kinokuniya a few blocks over. She preferred hole in the wall bookstores to chains, but it would have to do. Walking into the bookstore made her feel instantly at ease; people were allowed to talk, but it was still much more peaceful than the bustle of the street they had just left.
"A bookstore, huh? I guess that's like you," Madoka said, peeking out from behind her. "Is there anything you're reading at the moment?"
"Min-Jin Lee's Free Food for Millionaires."
"Why would millionaires need free food?"
"I don't know, that's why I'm reading it."
They drifted to the back of the store together before Homura started browsing anything. She liked to start from the back in big chains like Kinokuniya.
Madoka followed closely by Homura's elbow, occasionally picking out a book and flipping through it herself. They browsed quietly together for several minutes. Homura realized she didn't mind the girl's presence in moments like these.
"Do you have a favorite author?" Madoka asked suddenly.
Homura hummed as she put a book back on its shelf. "Not at the moment. It used to be Murakami, until I figured out that every college student's favorite author is Murakami."
Madoka smiled and pinched Homura's arm. "You're such a contrarian. What's wrong with liking the same author?"
"Well, I'm not like other people."
"You might be more like them than you think."
"Until that matters, I'll think otherwise."
"Mmm. Tell me about your favorite Murakami book."
"Well…some may disagree, but mine is Norwegian Wood."
"'I once had a girl…or should I say, she once had me?'" Madoka sang softly.
Homura smiled. "Named after the Beatles song, yes. It's set in the eighties, back when the student protests were happening. The protagonist is a student in university who meets two women he falls in love with. The interesting thing is that you can tell Murakami doesn't have much sympathy for the student movement. He's rather cynical about it all. In fact…" She trailed off. "This probably doesn't make much sense to you if you haven't read it."
Madoka waived her hand dismissively. "If you can listen to me prattle on about Yamato-class warships, I can listen to you talk about books by sentimental old men. Besides, I like hearing you excited about something. Keep going."
She didn't understand where Madoka got her patience and tolerance for others. Was it because she was afraid of being disliked? Or was it real? If it were Homura, she wouldn't care to hear someone ramble on about something she didn't understand. For anyone else, she wouldn't have stood in a dingy hobby shop in uptown Mitakihara listening to talk about anti-aircraft guns.
Was she special then? She didn't think so. Homura knew that was a dangerous way to consider things. Madoka was just as kind to everyone else, she was sure. She had to remind herself of that truth; she wasn't special. Not in the eyes of others, even if she wanted to be. She mustn't forget that.
Because if she didn't, she was afraid she would become trapped in the girl's embrace, like a fly in amber.
Homura ended up not buying anything at the Kinokuniya, but just being there was enough; it gave her a chance to recharge her batteries.
It was twilight when they emerged from the bookstore, wrapped in the thoughtful quietness that lingers after visiting such places. They walked to the station and took the train back downtown, parting ways soon after.
Madoka surprised Homura by pulling her into a full bodied hug. It lasted long enough that Homura felt obliged to hug her back. The warmth of the girl's body reminded her of something she had done her best to forget.
"Thanks for coming with me today," the girl murmured. "I had a lot of fun. Can I see you again soon?"
Homura responded with her usual standoffishness. "If you must."
Madoka smiled softly as she stepped back. "You always act meaner than you are."
Quite the opposite, actually.
She waved goodbye and disappeared down the length of the street. Homura watched her go until she couldn't see her anymore. Madoka looked like a stray pink brushstroke against the evening canvas of blue and gray. That last bit of sunlight before the night.
Exam week came and went. Homura tried to absorb herself in the work. She studied throughout the day and wrote well into the night. No different than her usual days. But in the back of her head was the constant question of when Madoka would contact her again. It felt foreign, to wonder about someone else. Homura was used to living days of complete isolation, never once giving a thought to what other people were doing.
She couldn't forget Madoka's touch. Nothing about the girl in particular; merely the sensation of being held by someone else. Later that week she was consumed by a dream, one filled with emotion and dark passion. She woke covered in sweat and breathing heavily to an unassuming spring night. A name rose to her lips unbidden, but she bit it back at the last moment.
This was stupid. Had she always been this foolish? Some things were best left forgotten.
Every other day, whenever she had time, Homura took the train uptown to study for her exams. She chose a seat at the bookstore cafe across the street from the publishing building where she had spoken to Toby. Each time she spent hours there, keeping an eye on the building across the street as she studied. Preparing herself for what she was going to do.
Despite this, nothing happened during exam week. The person she was waiting for never emerged from those doors. Just as well. She didn't need the added stress on top of her tests. And she knew this wouldn't be easy; she could wait as long as it took.
She wondered how Madoka was finding her exams.
As soon as she thought this, her phone rang.
Her hand moved with a will of its own. She picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear.
"Hello?"
"Hey…what are you up to?"
"Just some light studying. I'm at home."
A brief silence on the other end, as Madoka weighed what she was going to say next. When she spoke, her voice tickled Homura's ear.
"I want to see you."
There was a pond near campus roughly in between their two apartments. It was not a particularly large pond; if Homura were to chuck a pebble as hard as she could from the bank, she might reach the far side. During the day young mothers brought their children to eat sandwiches and watch them chase ducks across the grass.
But it was empty at night. As Homura walked she passed only the occasional mischievous couple or lone man staring out across the surface of the water. Lamps lined the side of a stone path that snaked the perimeter of the pond, but beyond that it was only darkness.
Madoka was waiting beneath one of these pools of light, dressed only in a baggy hoodie and shorts. It seemed she had come straight from home in a hurry. The girl's usual side-ties were gone, her soft pink hair falling free around her shoulders.
She smiled tiredly as Homura approached.
"Hey…sorry to call you out on such short notice. Were you in the middle of something?"
Homura shook her head. "Like I said, just some light review. Nothing I can't do later."
"My roommate's not home right now." Madoka pressed on. "I've been alone in the apartment all day. I mean, it happens. I'm getting used to it, especially lately. But I just felt really bored, and I wanted to do something…and I thought about you. I wondered what you were doing. And I wanted to see you."
Homura watched Madoka very carefully, making sure the girl was done before offering her calculated response.
"That's okay. I don't mind."
Madoka smiled again, and turned away from her.
"Walk with me?"
They walked along the stone path that followed the bank. Every ten feet or so they would leave the light of a lamp and be swallowed by darkness until they drew near the next one. Instead of side by side, this time Homura walked behind Madoka, watching as the girl's silhouette switched from pink to black.
"How did you find your exams?" Homura asked.
"Ugh. So bad," Madoka laughed. "But no worse than expected. East Asian literature was a mess."
"It's really not that difficult."
"You said that before. I should have asked you to tutor me. I almost did."
"I wouldn't have minded helping you."
"I know…you're like that. Maybe I was afraid to rely on you again so soon."
Mundane conversation. Meaningless words. But beneath it all, an undercurrent of agony. It was the only way she could explain the jagged edges of Madoka's silhouette.
She wanted to know, but did not dare ask. Like a scientist, she did not wish to interfere too much in her experiment. This was a vacuum and Madoka was at its center. Homura was merely an observer.
They walked until they reached a roofed patio by the water. Homura took a seat at one of the benches, but Madoka remained standing, dragging the heel of her sandal against the concrete.
"I wanted to tell my roommate," Madoka said suddenly. She turned away and looked out at the black surface of the pond. "I was going to tell her everything. About my mom. About what happened."
Homura said nothing.
"But I couldn't." Madoka clenched her hands together behind her back. "Every time I got a chance, the words wouldn't come out. I barely see her anymore either. She's always out with her girlfriend. And I'm so happy for her. I don't want to ruin it. I don't want to burden her with my problems, problems she can't even solve."
Homura thought carefully before answering. "I think you have a right to be heard."
Madoka shook her head. "I know. I know, but I still couldn't say anything. I've always relied on her for everything growing up. But now she's got someone else and I don't want to get in the way of that. I realized how weak I am. I always need someone to protect me. I hate that about myself."
Madoka Kaname is a nice girl. The thought registered to Homura as a profound truth. It would probably remain true until the bitter end. Madoka was a nice girl. She would always blame herself before blaming others, even if none of the blame was hers to take. And therefore, she was doomed to a life of self-underestimation.
"And yet…" Madoka clutched her chest. "I feel so ugly inside. I feel rage. I want to scream at her. Why can't you see something's wrong? All she does is talk about her girlfriend. She never asks about me. And home…I can't go home anymore. I can't face my mom. I can't face my dad or Tatsuya. Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up. Seeing her makes me feel things I've never felt before. It's all a lie. I feel hurt and betrayed. I feel abandoned. I've never felt so much hatred and bitterness. I didn't know it was possible. Homura, I'm scared of myself."
No one made you put her on such a high pedestal. Why do you do that to yourself? Why purposefully make yourself dependent on someone else? I don't understand.
But Homura said none of these things, because some truths were too dangerous to be uttered. They would shatter the delicate illusion they had crafted together. Instead she got up and, after steeling herself, pulled Madoka into a tight embrace.
She didn't know how long she stood there letting Madoka cry into her shoulder. She felt split by two powerful emotions at once. Homura was consumed both by the urge to caress Madoka's head and crush the girl to dust in her arms.
Which one is it? Do I hate her or pity her?
"People are going to let you down," she said. "It's in their nature. You have to learn to live with it."
"But I still want to believe." Madoka lifted her head and looked Homura in the eye. Her soft pink iris looked like a small sun setting into the ocean of her tears. "I want to believe there are people out there who are kind, and strong. It doesn't have to be my best friend. It doesn't have to be my mom. Maybe it's someone else. Maybe it's you."
Self indulgence was a dangerous thing. In that moment Homura wanted nothing more than to believe Madoka's words. She wished she could throw all her plans out the window and dedicate herself to protecting this girl. This was the first time in her life someone had seen such good in her.
But no. She mustn't falter. Madoka was a naive girl, whose evaluation of Homura's character was based on nothing but lies. If anything, their relationship had only confirmed her longstanding believe that the weak and foolish always succumbed to being used by others.
Homura held fast to this belief as she walked Madoka home that night. She held fast as they embraced again and refused the girl's offer to stay the night, because she was afraid of what she might do. She held fast as she spent the rest of the next week at the cafe across from the publishing building, avoiding her phone like the plague.
Madoka Kaname is a naive girl. Don't believe what she says about you.
Homura had almost convinced herself of this when she saw him.
A tall, lanky man with swept back hair and dark eyes.
Sasaki Arata.
A/N
This is the part where I apologize for not updating for six months. Life got in the way, as it usually does. And I'll admit, I went through a period where I lost faith in the legitimacy of this story. In fact, I am still trying to find that faith. But I decided to keep going because I'm tired of being a writer who doesn't follow through on his ideas, even if they aren't my best. I will do my best to continue updating, whenever I can.
Feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading.
-Banshee
