Chapter Nine - Wide Awake
Homura and Kyouko typically took turns paying rent. They stuffed the monthly check in an envelope before sending it to the leasing office, who never bothered to confirm whether they'd received anything or not. She supposed by virtue of the fact that they had not been evicted, the mail was being delivered properly.
Because of this she rarely if ever checked her mailbox herself. All they ever got were stupid travel brochures and phony interest rate offers from banks. Homura didn't have any family who'd want to send her anything, and as she far as she knew neither did Kyouko.
So she didn't quite know what to expect when Kyouko went to pay rent and came back with a small white envelope in her hand, tossing it on the coffee table in passing.
"Here. It's for you."
Homura blinked, putting a hand over the envelope. "What is it?"
"How am I supposed to know? None of my business," Kyouko said shortly before retreating into her room. She was blasting rock music again, which Homura was very public about hating.
Clucking her tongue, she flipped the envelope over and scanned its surface.
Her eyes grew dim when she saw who it was from.
She rose and retreated to her room, pulling the door shut behind her. With a pen she tore open the flap of the envelope and extracted its contents. A couple sheets of elegant stationery that smelled faintly of flowers.
Homura read the letter quietly, accompanied by the strains of "Paradise City" from the wall she shared with Kyouko. It didn't take very long, but to her it felt like an eternity and a half.
A soft spring breeze slipped through her open window. Nostalgia was a sad thing because it came hand in hand with loss. She didn't know whether to tear the letter to shreds or hold it close to her chest.
In the end she slipped it into her desk drawer, all the way to the back where she wouldn't see it without meaning to.
That letter reawakened a deep rage she had thought dead and buried. The disappointment she felt that night in the cafe never left her. Those two emotions followed her to her subsequent meetings with Toby, the echoing mundanity of her classes, and her fleeting moments with Madoka. As the spring wore on and summer approached she found herself growing increasingly angry, filled with a desire for destruction so visceral it kept her up at night.
It was all Asami's fault. If not for her, perhaps Homura would have succeeded in deluding herself into believing things were fine as they were.
Her manuscript had developed to a point where she knew more or less how the rest of the story would play out. It was becoming increasingly apparent that there was no real reason for her to continue her involvement with Madoka. In fact, it may be prudent to distance herself from any potential fallout from the affair.
Doing so would inevitably devastate Madoka. Homura knew this and hated herself for it. But she also hated Madoka for it equally.
"Hey," Toby said, "Are you okay?"
Homura blinked and realized she was gripping the handle of her mug so tightly her knuckles had gone white. She released it gingerly and hid her hands beneath the table.
"Just fine."
"You sure? You look like you're going to be sick."
"I'm fine, Toby. Just haven't slept well lately. I am still in school, as you know."
Toby eyed her, then shrugged. "Well, alright. Let me know if you need anything though, okay? Can't have one of my clients keeling over…but anyways, like I was saying, this line here…"
It was becoming increasingly difficult to hide the secret from Madoka. The girl simply wanted to spend all of her available free time with Homura, whether it was in the mornings or nights or weekdays or weekends. She had to keep making up excuses for why she was busy when she was meeting Toby, because she didn't even want to mention her manuscript to Madoka in the first place.
Not to mention that spending time with Madoka at all was becoming more painful by the day. Every laugh, every smile, every stray moment of eye contact or fingers brushing across her arm, all of it sent a twinge of guilt down her spine.
Afternoon visits to Yanagida's shop. Evenings spent in family restaurants talking about nothing in particular. Late nights spent on the phone, where Madoka's wish was not to speak but simply enjoy each other's presence. Sometimes Madoka looked at her a certain way and Homura knew she must have looked at Asami that same way, in a time now past. And the shame, the rage became so great she didn't know what to do with herself.
Homura carried this rage into the waning days of spring. She knew she had to act before she fell to pieces. But betraying Madoka threatened to do just that.
After one particularly exhausting meeting with Toby, Homura exited the elevator to find someone waiting for her.
Sasaki Arata motioned for her to follow, before turning and melding into the crowd.
Madoka needed to be busy on Saturday.
She needed to be busy because she knew her mother had the day off. A rare day off for everybody's Junko Kaname. But she knew a day off from work didn't mean a day of doing nothing for her mother. No, it meant family outings, dates to restaurants or shopping outlets with her daughter. Sometimes they would just pile into the car and go for long drives, just to spend some quality time. Junko was very big on quality time.
The thought of being alone in a car with her mother made her want to vomit. She couldn't handle it. She didn't want to bring herself closer to the inevitable painful end. She wanted peace, she wanted understanding. She wanted Homura.
So on Saturday morning she called Homura's number as she always did, waiting impatiently with her phone pressed to her ear.
"…Hello?"
"Hey, it's me." A smile crept onto Madoka's face at the sound of her friend's voice. "Are you free today?"
"Um…" Madoka thought she heard the sound of a crowd, or at least several pairs of feet on a hard floor. "Not at the moment, I'm afraid. Sort of in the middle of something."
"Oh. Will you be free later? I'm available all day, as long as I get some work done."
"Sorry, Madoka. I don't know when I'll be done. We'll do something next time, okay?"
Homura sounded like she really was in a hurry. The beginnings of a pout formed on Madoka's lips, but she quashed it with a smile. "That's totally fine, Homura. Just let me know! I'll talk to you later."
"Talk to you later."
Madoka hung up and dropped her phone on the bed before falling into it herself, staring at the ceiling. She suddenly felt very alone. She didn't want to call Sayaka, and seeing any of her university friends would feel too shallow, too artificial.
Almost as if on cue, a knock came from Madoka's bedroom door.
When Madoka was much younger, she often had trouble sleeping. The doctor said it was because she had a very active mind, whatever that meant. There were many nights where she would lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling until the sun peeked over the horizon. It started when she was in elementary school and continued sporadically into her high school years, when she finally learned to control it.
One place where she did fall asleep easily was, strangely enough, the back seat of a car. Being in a vehicle often made kids sick or uneasy at her age, but Madoka would always doze off on the way to and from school. Something about the gentle hum of the engine, the soft vertigo when the car made a turn, sent her under without exception.
Whenever she had trouble sleeping as a child Junko would put her in the back seat of the car and drive around the neighborhood at night, for as long as it took for Madoka to fall asleep. Once she had, her mother would drive home and carry her daughter upstairs princess style, tucking her into bed before retiring herself.
Sometimes they would talk about trivial things, meaningless conversations between an adult and a small child. Other times they said nothing. Madoka would open the car window and close her eyes as the cool night air swept across her face, lulling her to sleep. Junko's reassuring presence in the front seat, the small glow of the dashboard and the soft click of the turn signal. These were the sights and sounds of her childhood.
In retrospect, she had always seen her mother in that manner. The one behind the wheel, dictating where they would go and how they would end up. She couldn't fall asleep without her mother. She didn't feel safe without her mother. She wanted to need her mother, and perhaps because of that she convinced herself that Junko was perfect, that she was everything.
Once Madoka got old enough, driving around the neighborhood at night stopped working. She would sit wide awake in the back seat, but pretend to be asleep when they returned home. And eventually, she did learn how to fall asleep normally.
But she only did it because she had to. Madoka didn't know if there was shame in that. But she felt shame nonetheless.
"I can't say I expected to see you again so soon," Homura said.
Arata crossed his arms. "Believe me, if I had my way you wouldn't."
They were standing on the roof of the Toshoukan Publishing building. It was one of those roofs no one was supposed to go onto, but Homura supposed the company president enjoyed free rein over the building. Arata stayed near the door as Homura walked up to the edge of the railing, placing a hand on the corroded metal.
"You know, this isn't the best spot to stage a murder," Homura said blandly. She peered over the railing at the crowded street below. "Although the fall is certainly high enough to kill me."
Arata shook his head. "You're insufferable. Not that I didn't know, but you really are a piece of work."
"What is it that you want, Mr. Sasaki?"
"I read your manuscript." Homura went still as the man's eyes bored into her. "Call it curiosity. And call it my projection or an interpretation, but I'm pretty sure you were inspired by a certain something."
Homura smiled at him. "Well, I'm flattered you took the time to read my work. Did you enjoy it?"
"It was rather well written. But I hated it."
"Hmm. I wonder why."
"You can't profit off something you're already blackmailing me for," Arata snapped. "First you use Junko to get me under your thumb, and now you're writing a novel about us. Do you have no shame?"
"Oh, Mr. Sasaki. It is not a direct retelling of your experience. I am not privy to the details of your affair with Junko Kaname. That is simply my version of events."
"And I suppose you don't care how I might feel knowing that story's out there? Or what would happen if Junko ever got her hands on it? You're messed up in the head. I can't fathom you."
Homura sighed, leaning her back against the railing. "Mr. Sasaki, I am being honest when I say it isn't personal in the slightest. It was simply an interesting story, and I decided to tell it."
Arata narrowed his eyes. "It's personal to me."
"That's not my problem." Homura's fingers clenched around the metal railing. "And in any case you are in no position to prevent the publication of my story. Only Toby can do that, and between you and me, he enjoys the story very much."
She left the railing and brushed past him, heading for the door. Arata stood with his fists clenched inside the pockets of his suit, and did not speak until she had passed him.
"Do you enjoy going about things this way?" He asked. "Using people as you please? It's no way to live."
Homura paused with the hand on the door handle.
"What business do you have telling me how to live my life?" She said without turning to face him. "Maybe instead of complaining about being used you shouldn't have put yourself in a position to be used. People like me are always going to exist."
She threw the door aside and disappeared down the steps. Arata was left staring at the yawning gap of the stairwell, until the vertigo became too much and he had to step away.
That same rage from fifteen years ago returned to him, cold and discriminate.
A new boardwalk had been under construction alongside the river, and was now completed and open for visitation, complete with expensive restaurants and trails for Instagram models to get their fix. Junko tasked Madoka with looking up a good place to have brunch as she peeled her way uptown in her sleek sports car.
Madoka's mind was a mess as she sat in the passenger seat, absently thumbing through a series of Yelp reviews. She had no idea how she was supposed to act in front of Junko. She knew she was no good at hiding her emotions from others. What if it became too obvious that something was wrong?
"I feel like it's been forever since we've done something together," Junko said. "I'd say some mother-daughter time is longer overdue, wouldn't you?"
Madoka just cracked a weak smile. Her mother eyed her for a moment before returning her attention to the road.
"So, how is school going?" She asked. "Have you met any cute boys in your classes yet?"
"School's going fine. I have friends to help me with the hard stuff," Madoka said. "And I don't…really talk to boys."
"Oh, don't be like that. I know you're shy, Madoka, but it does get harder to meet people after you leave school. It really does. I'm lucky I met your father early in life. But I had my fun when I was young! I really was a pretty reckless kid. I'm glad you take after your father more than me. But I think there are certain mistakes that are okay to make when you're still young. Otherwise you make them when you're older, which isn't okay. You know?"
Junko cast her a sidelong glance. Madoka simply smiled back at her mother, but said nothing.
The boardwalk was picturesque with the river as its backdrop. It was packed with students playing hooky and adults trying to escape reality, however briefly. The two of them started at the very end and walked their way along the wooden path, doing some casual window shopping and pointing out this and that.
Junko still did most of the talking. Madoka hung a few steps behind her mother, smiling and answering briefly when addressed. She could tell Junko was beginning to catch on to her strange demeanor. She knew she had to do something, act or lie or tell the truth, something, but she didn't know what was right. She didn't know how to act without hurting someone.
A flock of seagulls cawed overhead, their long wings outstretched to ride the late morning winds. Their small beady eyes watched the food stalls and small children clutching hot dogs and sundaes, waiting patiently for the right moment to strike.
"You know, I've never been very fond of birds," Junko remarked while eyeing the seagulls. "They always seem smarter than they let on. And they see the world differently than us, all the way up there. They've always made me a little nervous."
When Madoka said nothing in response, Junko stopped and turned to her daughter.
"Madoka, is something the matter? You're being awfully quiet. If you're feeling sick, we can head home for today. We'll find some other time."
Madoka's lips parted but nothing came forth. Junko tilted her head.
After a long moment Madoka closed eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them it was with a smile, as she walked forward and took her mother's hand.
"It's nothing, Mama. I'm just a little tired from school. Let's go."
Junko smiled and squeezed her daughter's hand.
The boardwalk was packed with intruiging sights and smells. Long sticks of fried batter covered in all sorts of sauces and toppings that made them salivate. Kids chased each other across the platform with plastic toys bought at one of the stalls. Store owners shouted their promotions from the sides, the seagulls screeching to drown them out.
They entered a small clothing store about halfway up the boardwalk, where Junko picked out a chic women's fedora and struck a pose. Madoka laughed and picked up a fedora of her own, and the two of them proceeded to make weird gestures and faces in the mirror until the store owner got annoyed and asked them to leave.
Next was a stall selling churros well over a foot long. Junko bought six and challenged Madoka to an eating contest. Madoka barely finished one before she got a stomachache. Junko, meanwhile, made it through three and would have finished the rest if Madoka didn't stop her. They ended up giving the last two to a couple kids, who promptly began using them in a mock sword fight.
"Oh, look. Now they're going to waste," Junko sighed. "Two perfectly good churros."
"What are you saying after eating three feet of churros in ten minutes?" Madoka scoffed, poking Junko's stomach. "How do you even fit so much food in there?"
Her mother stuck her tongue out at her. "I work super hard every day! If I want to eat three feet of churros I'm gonna do it!"
Madoka laughed. "I wish I'd inherited your metabolism, Mama. If I ate as much as you I'd get all pudgy."
"There's nothing wrong with that! Plenty of guys like pudgy girls."
"There's no way! Would Papa prefer if you were pudgy then?"
Junko rolled her eyes. "Oh, I wouldn't know."
They ended up spending the entire day by the boardwalk. During dinner Junko ordered a few beers and shared some with Madoka, despite the latter's insistence that she shouldn't.
"Mama! I'm underage!" Madoka said in a hushed voice, glancing around nervously.
Junko laughed, her cheeks already flushed from drinking. "Oh, it's fine Madoka. You're with me. Every lady needs to know how to hold her liquor!"
Madoka sighed and accepted the glass from her mother, taking a few guarded sips. It burned a hot trail down her throat before frothing about in her stomach. She just couldn't get used to the taste of alcohol; even she had admittedly tried it a couple times, at parties she got dragged along to by her friends. She was honestly more afraid of what it might make her do. Madoka had seen people make fools out of themselves at parties before.
Junko exhaled slowly and she swirled her glass around. "But still, to think you're old enough to drink with me now…you've grown up, Madoka."
"I'm technically not," Madoka pointed out.
Her mother waved her hand. "Let's not sweat the details."
After dinner they left the confines of the boardwalk and took a stroll by the riverbank, where dandelions flowered amongst the tall grass and catnips hugging the water. It was dark now and the moon glimmered behind a cloud in the sky. Their silhouettes glowed a soft silver as they took off their shoes and walked beneath that moon, enjoying the soft coolness of the grass between their toes.
It reminded Madoka of the camping trips her father was fond of taking them on in the past. Junko was never very savvy with wilderness or outdoor living but she did love nature, and Madoka had many cherished memories of going on hikes and wooded adventures with her. Thinking about that brought her back to a much simpler time, and for a moment she thought she might cry, seized as she was by a sudden rush of emotion.
"Mama, how has Papa been lately? Have you spent time with him recently?"
It sort of just slipped out. Maybe it was the alcohol. Her face felt warm, her brain awash in tingles. But did alcohol make one do anything they didn't already wish to do? Maybe it just gave them the courage, or the foolhardiness, to act.
Junko's shoes clicked softly against each other as she walked. "To be honest…I haven't spoken to him in a few days. I get home so late, he sleeps so early…and besides, it's a big house."
"You don't call him? Text, even?"
Junko laughed guiltily. "I could do a better job keeping up with him, that's for sure. But we're both our own people. He knows how he wants to live his life, as do I. And I know he does a good job taking care of himself and you kids. I trust him."
For some reason her mother's answer made her so sad. Maybe she was naive, maybe she had a childish concept of marriage, but she had always thought her parents were best friends. Was that her fault for making assumptions or theirs for creating the illusion?
"Why do you ask, Madoka? Did something happen with your dad?"
"No…I was just worried about him, I guess. I'm not home much anymore. He's only got Tatsuya, who reads all day and doesn't talk much. I thought he might be lonely."
Junko hummed. "You're very considerate. That's one of your strengths. But it's your dad's job to worry about you, not the other way around. Don't worry about us, Madoka. Just focus on yourself, and let us take care of the rest."
It was a loving answer, but also a very distant one. As Madoka watched her mother's back she realized how far away it seemed. Even if she reached out it felt like she wouldn't be able to grab hold of the fabric of her jacket.
"How about you? How's work? Are there any problems?"
Junko laughed. "Work is fine, Madoka. The engagement I'm on is wrapping up soon. You don't have to worry about your mother. She's invincible."
Madoka caught up with Junko and they left the riverbank hand in hand. No matter what, Junko would always be her mother. Maybe it was okay to only see that part of her. Who cared about the rest of it? It had nothing to do with her.
When they drove home Madoka rolled down the car window and leaned her head against the door frame, closing her eyes to the cool night air. Junko stroked Madoka's hand as she drove, her touch comforting in the way only a mother's could be.
But she couldn't fall asleep. When they arrived home Madoka was still wide awake.
Homura's confrontation with Arata left a bad taste in her mouth. She was in a foul mood for the rest of that week. It must have shown in her writing, because Toby told her to redo everything she sent him in that period.
She also became a very frequent patron of the coffee shop near her apartment. Typically she worked at her desk, but Asami's letter was in there and she didn't want to be near it, so much as she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it.
After several days had passed she remembered Madoka's phone call, and felt a stab of guilt for not getting back to her yet. But she reminded herself that it was for the best. She ought to start building some distance now.
Nevertheless, she sent the girl a text saying she was relatively free for the coming week. Homura couldn't give a good reason for it even if she tried.
Later that night, she got a call from Madoka.
"Hey. I've missed you," she said. "I guess I got used to seeing you almost every day! How have you been?"
"Same as always," Homura said. She was in the kitchen making herself a sandwich, the phone itself sandwiched between her cheek and shoulder. "Reading, writing, brooding."
Madoka laughed. "The three ingredients that make Homura!"
Homura smiled. "I'd like to imagine I'm more complex than that."
"Well we can throw in insomnia, stubbornness, a hatred for vegetables-"
"I do not 'hate' vegetables," Homura objected.
"You always make a face when there's pickles in your burger!"
"I'm just not used to eating them because they're expensive. I'm not picky at all."
"Uh huh. I guess I know what your Christmas present will be."
"What, a vegetable garden?"
"Maybe. If it isn't expensive."
"Good luck fitting that in this apartment."
"My dad says all a plant needs to grow is time and love. Like people!"
Homura sighed. "That explains why I'm so short, I guess."
"Aw, don't be like that. I'll give you all the love you need."
"I don't know if that's cute or creepy."
"So cold! You'd make a terrible girlfriend."
"Why do you think I'm single, Madoka?"
"Because you refuse to get a haircut?"
"Okay, Madoka."
Somehow their conversations just kept going and Homura didn't notice the passage of time. They called like this often, sometimes bickering, other times sharing silence. It almost bothered her how natural it felt. She rarely thought about what to say to Madoka, but she never had to either.
Homura finished making her ham and cheese sandwich (conspicuously devoid of vegetables) and retreated back to her room. She passed Kyouko in the hall, who gave her a weird look before slipping into the bathroom.
"I actually wanted to ask you a favor," Madoka said suddenly. "Are you free this weekend?"
"I can be. Do you have something planned?"
Madoka sighed. "Not me, my roommate. She wants me to meet her girlfriend, the one I told you about. In fact she's been bugging me about it for weeks and I've been avoiding it, but I can't really get out of this one."
"Why not just get it over with?"
"I think she wants all three of us to be friends. And I'm sort of…not really ready for that."
Homura recalled Madoka's outburst by the lake. "So you want me there to run interference."
"Just so I don't have to third-wheel them the entire time," Madoka said. "And if I have to meet her girlfriend, she should meet you too, I think."
"I wasn't aware that I was your girlfriend."
Homura could feel Madoka's flush through the phone. "That's not what I meant! I just mean I consider you a really close friend, so it's a fair trade! Anyways, I'll text you the details later. Goodnight!"
Madoka hung up with a loud huff. Homura set her phone on the desk and caught her reflection in the mirror. A big stupid smile was plastered across her big dumb face. As soon as she noticed this she forced herself to stop.
As promised, Homura received details the very next day. They would be going to the arcade that weekend. Not really her thing, but she supposed she would put up with it for Madoka's sake.
She hoped Madoka's roommate and this infamous girlfriend weren't too insufferable.
"You are insufferable," Homura sighed.
"What?" Kyouko exclaimed, baffled.
That morning Homura had woken up to take a shower, only to find that it was occupied. After impatiently waiting for Kyouko to finish she hopped in and got ready to head to the arcade.
Kyouko left the apartment at the same time as her, saying something about a date. At first they seemed to be heading in the same direction, which Homura quickly amended by crossing the street. On the train she thought she caught a glimpse of a familiar red head, bobbing in and out of view.
"Sorry, it just slipped out," Homura said blandly. "Small world, isn't it?"
"Umm…" Madoka grasped the end of Homura's sleeve. "Do you two know each other?"
Homura sighed, waving her hand between them. "Kyouko, meet Madoka. My friend. And Madoka, meet Kyouko…my roommate."
Madoka's mouth gaped. "No way! What a coincidence!"
"I'll say!" Exclaimed the girl standing beside Kyouko, crossing both arms over her chest. "You mean I've been dating your roommate and you've been hanging out with mine this entire time?"
Homura eyed Miki Sayaka and immediately had a feeling she wasn't going to like her. "As Madoka said, it is indeed quite a coincidence."
"Hmm." Sayaka seemed less than pleased. "Well now that we're all here, let's head inside, shall we?"
She turned and entered the arcade, pulling Kyouko along with her. Homura hung back as Madoka fell into step beside her.
"Sayaka seems less than happy about all this," Homura noted.
Madoka smiled weakly. "I haven't exactly mentioned you to her yet, so I guess she feels…out of the loop?"
"I suppose that can be irritating."
Madoka humphed. "Well, now she knows how it feels."
Homura chuckled. "Spite doesn't suit you."
"What's up with you and Kyouko, then?"
Homura eyed her roommate's back. "We just don't see eye to eye. Roommates and nothing more."
"And they were roommates!" Madoka said dramatically.
Homura laughed. "Stop."
The arcade had a small restaurant that served fast food, which they visited first because Kyouko claimed to be starving (Homura doubted this, as starvation was a relative term and Kyouko was always 'starving'). They slid into a four person booth, Homura and Madoka on one side and Sayaka and Kyouko on the other.
It was…awkward, to say the least. Homura already knew Kyouko, and Sayaka seemed less than interested in getting to know her. They ended up just listening as Madoka tried desperately to have a conversation with Kyouko.
The rest of the afternoon continued in this fashion. Homura didn't know if it was due to the weirdness of her and Kyouko already knowing each other or Madoka's unwillingness to even be here. They eventually left the restaurant to play the actual arcade games, but Sayaka stuck with Kyouko and Madoka did not seem inclined to object.
While Kyouko was busy impressing Sayaka at the skee-ball machine, Madoka tugged on Homura's sleeve and pulled them away into the crowd. Homura let Madoka guide her as they drew further from Sayaka and Kyouko.
"Won't they be upset if we just leave?" Homura voiced, though she didn't really mind.
"They're having fun on their own," Madoka shrugged. "We should have some fun ourselves."
They climbed into a cramped photo booth in the far corner of the arcade, pulling the curtain in for privacy. It was one of those ancient things with silly filters and effects, plus the option to print out your photos if you were willing to pay up.
"My mom and I got kicked out of a store last week for making faces in the mirror," Madoka laughed. She punched some buttons on the screen. "Come on, let's do this! I haven't done one of these since middle school."
As Madoka hugged her and posed for the photo, Homura thought about how she never would have known what being inside a stuffy photo booth at a run down arcade on a Saturday afternoon felt like if not for this girl. Madoka was a door to things she could never experience alone.
She liked Madoka. She missed Madoka when she wasn't around. Maybe it was okay to take advantage of the girl's kindness for a little longer. Maybe she didn't have to hate Madoka for that very kindness. Maybe she didn't have to hate herself either.
These were all lies and she knew it. But Homura squashed the guilt in her chest and squeezed Madoka back, sending a small blush across the girl's cheeks. One day this too would end.
Thus began a fateful summer.
A/N This chapter sure took a long time to get out. I was busy with finals for a couple weeks, and then I sloughed through some awful writer's block. I legitimately think I wrote, deleted, and rewrote like 3 chapters worth of words before finally settling on this version of events. I decided to cut loose a bit in certain parts and throw in some silly conversation threads here and there, which I think are reminiscent of older stories I wrote when I was younger. I think I managed to pack a lot into this chapter without making it too long, to make up for the delay.
Also, for those wondering about the ultimate length of this story, I believe it will be around twenty chapters long.
Thanks for reading!
-Banshee
