Chapter Twelve - Fall Sky
The metallic surface of the laptop was cool to the touch; Madoka shivered when it touched her skin. A single word processor was open on the screen.
Homura waited silently from the far wall, where the shadows hid her face. From Madoka's seat by the desk, the girl's face was indiscernible.
A familiar feeling arose from her emotional memory. It was the same feeling she had on that spring day in her mother's study. The walls were closing in, but she felt even smaller.
Two small rectangles of light pulsated in her irises as she read. It was not long before she looked up from the screen, staring into the darkness across the room.
"Homura…what is this?"
The girl in the shadows drew in a shuddering breath, and began to speak.
Her words were hesitant, halting at first, but gained in strength as they continued. It felt to Madoka like stepping out to a windy fall evening after a day spent inside; the presence of something natural but unexpected made its presence known, whirling forth to consume her. Madoka found herself unable to do much other than listen, her fingers frozen still against Homura's laptop keyboard.
The tale Homura spun was an impossible one. Yet Madoka could see in the girl's eyes that it was the truth. A car swept by outside, its headlights pouring through the half open blinds over the window. For a brief moment those eyes were illuminated, and Madoka glimpsed the agony therein.
It was a tale of deception, of dark intentions. But at times the story was also sweet and tender. The revelations she faced then cut so deep they threatened to split her in half. Shock gave way to emptiness as she listened. She wanted to deny what she heard, but the sincerity in Homura's eyes was absolute. The car ride was over; it was time to wake up.
An eternity filled that small bedroom wrapped in shadows. As Homura's tale reached its unfinished conclusion her voice was raw, from overuse or emotion Madoka could not say.
"And that's everything. The whole truth," Homura said. "I know I lied to you. But I don't want to lie to you anymore. When Toby called, I was so scared I got sick. I realized it was because I didn't want to lose you."
She paused then, clenching her fists. The regret in her expression was evident as she continued.
"I shouldn't have written a single word of that manuscript. What I did was wrong, and I regret it. Madoka…I am truly sorry."
Homura bowed her head before Madoka, and remained in that position. Silence reigned as Madoka's lips parted slightly, with no words forthcoming.
Tears had formed in the rims of her eyes, but she did not know if she had the right to let them fall. Her fingertips pulsed against the keyboard, as if urging her to bring an end to the story.
It was such a familiar feeling. Just like that day across from the Midoriiro, and no less devastating, but she found herself unable to cry out in agony or anger. The hollow of her chest felt cold and numb, rubbed raw by that windy fall evening.
At last she tried to speak, but only managed a small noise. Homura looked up as Madoka wiped at her eyes, sniffing deeply.
"S-Sorry," she said finally, pressing her palms against her eyes. "It's just…I don't know what to do."
Homura stood up, her face strained. She waited as Madoka took several shuddering breaths, swallowing thickly to bury her tears.
At last the girl had calmed somewhat, and she gazed at the window with red rimmed eyes.
"You know…first, it was Mama," Madoka said. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. "And then, Sayaka. I thought…back then, I just wanted to blame them. But now, you…I'm starting to think there must be something wrong with me."
Homura's eyes widened, and she shook her head. "You've done nothing wrong."
"Then why does this keep happening to me?" Madoka asked. "Why just me? Maybe you're right. Maybe I am weak and naive."
Homura's head shook violently again, her hand rising to clutch her chest. "I don't think that about you any-"
"When I found out about Mama, I thought a long time about what I should do," Madoka said. "I thought about telling Papa. I thought about doing nothing. In the end I couldn't decide. But it keeps happening, Homura, and I don't know what I should do. What would you do if it was you? Would you forgive yourself, or walk away?"
Homura's lips parted slightly. The hand against her chest went limp and fell by her side.
"I can't make that decision for you," she said. "I knew that you may never forgive me for what I've done. In the end, whatever decision you make for yourself…I will support it."
Madoka bit her lip, and lowered her head. She felt a deep shame for having asked Homura what she did.
"All I know is I want to stay by your side," Homura continued. "Whatever happens, I want to help you through it. The time we've spent together…I don't want it to end. I know it's selfish. I know I don't deserve it. But those are my honest feelings."
As she said this she reached down and took Madoka's hand. The girl looked up from her seat and for a moment their eyes met. Madoka saw genuine emotion in those dark irises.
"You don't have to make a decision now," Homura said. "If you need time…I'll wait for you."
They stayed like that for a moment. After a brief spell Madoka looked away. Her hand slipped from Homura's grip, and when she spoke she sounded very far away.
"I…I don't know," she murmured. "I don't trust myself to make the right decision right now. I need some time alone."
Homura seemed stricken. She nodded with difficulty. "I understand."
Madoka rose from her seat and approached the door. As she grasped the knob she paused, turning slightly in Homura's direction. The vacant look in the girl's eyes sent a shudder down Homura's spine.
"Could you send me a copy of your manuscript?" Madoka asked. "For later."
Homura hesitated a moment. "…I will."
Together they walked to the front door, where Madoka slipped into her shoes. As she rose they nearly came eye to eye again, but she averted her gaze.
"I don't think we should see each other for a while," she said. "For now…this is goodbye."
Madoka opened the door and slipped away. It was still the middle of summer, but Homura was cold when that door clicked shut. She felt like an old woman saying goodbye to spring, not knowing if she would live to see another.
Twilight was the best part of the day.
In the mornings she rose early, before anyone else in the house. After taking a shower to wake herself up she shuffled downstairs and made herself breakfast, often jam spread over toast. She was always careful not to take more than two slices, and never failed to clean the knife she used in the sink before leaving. Anything less would draw the ire of her mother.
She did not mind these quiet moments that accompanied her mornings. The kitchen was cramped, and the curtains were too old and worn out to actually block the sun, but the time was hers alone.
Once she had eaten she took her bike from the shed out back and headed to school. Her house sat on the outskirts of town, the commute a few miles each way. She initially started biking to school to strengthen her heart, as well as get in a little exercise. She did nothing else to preserve her health, so it was the least she could do.
A long dirt road barely wide enough for two cars stretched before her each morning. The town Homura grew up in was neither large nor particularly special. It was a middle of nowhere town, an afterthought to the passengers on the planes she saw soaring overhead on occasion. Huge fields of grass stretched out on either side of her as she pedaled. It was so quiet she could hear the crunch of her tires against the road. With no light pollution the sky was clear and present, tinged a soft blue-gray like the belly of a whale.
The dirt road turned into pavement as she neared school. She left her biked chained to a stand by the gate and swapped her outdoor shoes for indoor ones, never speaking to the other students greeting each other at the lockers around her.
In class she paid just enough attention to obtain passable marks. As the saying went, the nail that sticks out gets hammered down. She took careful notes through the basics of each lesson and spared herself the specifics, often staring out the window and daydreaming.
By midday the sun had risen to warm the skin on her arm through the glass. She was glad for this seat, by the window and two rows from the back, where she was easily accounted for but rarely called upon.
During lunch break she gathered her things and hurried to the school library, of which she was the sole caretaker. It was a tiny library, with a sorry collection of old and beat up books. No one cared for it, and it was on the verge of being shut down until Homura convinced the teachers to let her look after it. Seeing an opportunity to both avoid more work and obtain free labor, they allowed her to count being the designated librarian as a club activity.
She spent the first several days of the term fixing up her newfound sanctuary. From the storage room she borrowed cleaning materials and got to work, sweeping the floor and wiping down the tables. She put on some music while she cleaned, Schubert and a bit of Schumann, humming softly to herself.
Once she had thrown open the windows and aired out the place she began the long process of taking each book down from its shelf and dusting it, placing it back in alphabetical order by author.
It didn't take her very long; the library was no larger than a typical classroom. If anything she wished it had taken longer. Once she was done she took a seat behind the librarian's desk by the door and cracked open a copy of Norwegian Wood. Its association with those blissful early days was why she regarded it her favorite Murakami work.
Unfortunately, any revamped space was bound to attract some sightseers. Students would occasionally come during lunch breaks, talking loudly and spilling crumbs all over the place. Homura hated these students with an unwavering passion, and spent much of her time thinking of ways to eradicate them from the earth. She briefly considered locking the library during lunch, but was wary of losing her special privileges if complaints were made.
Instead she opted to glower from her desk, making it as uncomfortable as possible for anyone else in the room. Eventually students stopped frequenting the library, returning occasionally only to be quickly reminded of why everyone else chose to stay away.
After her afternoon classes she returned to her sanctuary, where she often stayed as late as seven at night. Her father rarely reached home from work before that, and no one got to have dinner until he returned. As such she saw no reason to go home any earlier. She much preferred her little corner of the world.
From about three to five the track team held its practice outside. The constant chanting and shouting from the players was too distracting for relaxed reading, so she typically spent this time copy editing articles. The old man who ran the local paper handed her a stack of editorials each week, which she promptly returned with grammatical and spelling corrections. He was a grumpy little thing but paid well, enough for her to buy herself a cheap lunch on most days.
Once she had asked him what he thought about her writing for the paper, to which he snorted before handing her that week's pay and closing the door in her face.
After she was done she did some reading, or studied until it was time to go home. Homura spent the majority of her days in this manner upon reaching high school. She unchained her bike from the stand by the gate and pedaled home under cover of darkness, her bike light piercing through the murk. She could never see it, but eventually the pavement gave way to dirt, and the strident cries of countless grasshoppers filled her ears.
A month passed with terrifying ease. She assumed three years would also slip by with no problem at all. Being young and naive, the idea of wasting time did not disturb her. Each afternoon she listened to the voices of the girls on the track team that trickled through the window, and wondered which of them was the one with the chestnut brown hair.
She could picture it clearly, her upperclassman sprinting the length of the track with her hair tied back into a ponytail. Perhaps if Homura were to go peek through the window of a classroom, she would spot the girl from afar. But her curiosity never overpowered her aversion to change. She was sedated back then, with no ambitions and too many fears.
But that all changed one fateful afternoon.
Homura was none the wiser. She was busy being absorbed by Norwegian Wood, which she was reading for the second time. She often did this, developing an unwillingness to move on from things she liked. There were many books she had read several times for this reason.
The track team's voices faded as the sun set behind the horizon. The wooden furniture in the room took on a soft orange hue. Twilit heat lulled her into a shallow daze. When the door to the library slid open she almost didn't notice it, unused to being disturbed as she was.
"…Hello?"
Homura blinked and looked up.
The upperclassman with the chestnut brown hair smiled back, tiling her head slightly to the side.
Homura sat up abruptly and nearly dropped the book in her hands, gasping softly. The girl raised an eyebrow as Homura juggled the book for a moment, finally seizing and setting it aside.
"Can…can I help you?" She said at last, blushing profusely.
The girl held a hand to her mouth and giggled softly, which mortified Homura. "Yes, I think you can. Are you the librarian?"
Homura nodded meekly. "Yes, I am."
"I'm looking for a book, for a report I'm writing." A smile lingered upon the girl's lips. Homura found herself distracted by them.
"What book, exactly?"
"A copy of Norwegian Wood." The girl's gaze fell to the book by Homura's elbow.
Homura followed her upperclassman's eyes, then snatched up the book and held it out.
"H-Here!" She stammered.
The girl's eyes widened. "Weren't you in the middle of reading that? I can take a different copy."
"It's fine!" Homura insisted, shaking her head. "This is the only copy."
The girl blinked, then gave a sighing smile. "Then I'll get it back to you as soon as I can."
She took the book from Homura's clammy hands. Homura noticed she folded the corner of a page before closing it again.
"Is there anything else you needed?" Homura asked hesitantly.
The girl looked up and shook her head. "No, that was it. What's your name?"
Homura nearly tripped over her tongue trying to respond. "Akemi. Akemi Homura."
"Homura," the girl said contemplatively. "You have a nice name. I'm Tojo. Tojo Asami. Thank you for the book, Homura. I'll see you around."
She held her hand out. Homura's heart fluttered softly as she gingerly shook it. Asami's fingers were thin and warm.
Asami waved goodbye and left the library. The door closed gently behind her.
Only after her footsteps had faded did Homura collapse onto the desk, holding both hands over her head.
Madoka was in a foggy daze as she left Homura's apartment. Her feet moved by instinct, taking her to the bus stop where she got on and sat absently in a seat near the back. Her phone buzzed, and when she looked at it she saw it was the manuscript she had asked for, attached to a blank email with no subject line.
A vague sense of sadness stirred within her but never emerged. Her soul was convinced that now was not the time to cry or complain. She understood intimately that doing so would change nothing.
She got off near her apartment and took the elevator up. When she opened the door Kyouko and Sayaka were sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, neither speaking to the other.
Both girls looked up abruptly when Madoka entered. Sayaka rose quickly from her seat, while Kyouko remained where she was.
"Madoka." Sayaka's eyes were searching, raking over Madoka's skin.
"Hi, Sayaka." Madoka averted her gaze and focused on Kyouko instead. "Sorry for kicking you out."
Kyouko shook her head, rising from her seat. "It's cool. It happens. Is Homura still home?"
"I think so."
She nodded. "I'll be heading back, then. Call me if you need anything."
Madoka wasn't sure if those words were for Sayaka or herself. As the door shut behind them, she walked past Sayaka and into her room.
"Madoka…" Sayaka said, but the bedroom door was quickly shut.
Once she was alone, Madoka stood in the center of her room and knew immediately she could not spend the night there. She was not safe, so close to a source of stress she knew not how to confront.
You always do this. You always run away.
She flexed the fingers on one hand in agitation. From her closet she grabbed a duffel bag and began filling it with clothes. Halfway through she abruptly stopped and grabbed her phone, dialing a number before holding it to her ear.
"Hello…Mr. Yanagida?"
Once she was off the phone she went back to packing. She folded three days of clothes and toiletries. It reminded her of packing for the camping trips her family used to go on. That felt like a million years ago now.
After packing she looked up and saw that it had begun to rain, a soft summer drizzle that cloaked her street in mist. Reaching under her bed, she retrieved an umbrella before heading for the door.
Sayaka was standing on the other side. She started when the door abruptly opened, eyes darting to the bag and umbrella in her roommate's hands.
"…Where are you going?" She asked.
Madoka looked away. "Home. Just for a few days."
Sayaka crossed her arms. "Is that the truth?"
Madoka said nothing.
Sayaka bit her lip and touched her friend's arm. "Look, have you been okay lately? You're acting weird. Kyouko called and she said she needed to come over all of a sudden. She said something's going on with you and Homura."
The rain grew heavier outside. The look in Madoka's eyes grew vacant. "It's fine. You don't need to worry about it."
"So something did happen," Sayaka insisted. "I can tell when you're lying, Madoka. How long have we known each other? If you tell me what's going on I can help."
Madoka shook her head and pushed past her roommate. Sayaka followed her to the front door, grabbing her arm.
"Madoka!"
Madoka stopped suddenly and turned around. Sayaka took a step back when she saw the look on the girl's face.
"Sayaka, please," she said, her voice flat. "I need some space to think. If you want to help, just leave me alone."
Madoka slipped free from her roommate's grasp and left the apartment.
Sayaka was left standing alone in the living room, listening to the pitter patter of the rain outside.
Homura spent the next three days in a state of perpetual anxiety. During each lunch break and after school period she sat apprehensively at her desk by the library door, wondering if or when Asami would return.
She got so nervous she took out some paper and did some math. Norwegian Wood was roughly three hundred pages long. She could easily read a hundred pages in a single sitting, but understood she was on the higher end of that spectrum. Fifty pages an hour, then. Six hours to read the entirety of Norwegian Wood, spread over the course of a week or so. Her ultimate conclusion was that it could take anywhere from two to eight days for Asami to finish the book, depending on her reading speed and amount of free time at hand.
In other words, the entire exercise was pointless.
She crumpled up the paper and threw it in the bin. The entire thing was pointless, in fact. Homura wasn't stupid. She knew her obsession with her upperclassman was illogical and embarrassing. But embarrassing truths were still true.
Reaching into her desk, she took out more paper and began to free write instead. What lay at the heart of her strange fixation? She recalled the morning on the bus, where they stood pressed against one another. She doubted Asami even remembered that incident. But Homura hadn't been able to forget it, the way she smelled like a field of dandelions at dawn.
It was so embarrassing. Obsessing over a girl for such a base reason. And why a girl? Why Asami? Did she swing that way? Who knew? Not her!
This time she crumped up three pieces of paper before chucking them at the bin. She missed.
I'm such an idiot.
Three days passed in this manner. With her progress through Norwegian Wood stalled, she instead picked up To Kill a Mockingbird, a novel that was highly acclaimed overseas. Though it was good, she struggled to relate to the characters and felt distracted while reading it.
On the third day it rained, a caustic fall rain that lashed against the windows of the library. Homura made sure to lock them tightly before heading for her afternoon classes, listening to the wind howl outside.
Once class had concluded the students huddled together in the locker room, hunting down umbrellas or calling parents to come pick them up. Homura pushed against the stream of kids as she made her way to the library. She wondered what the track team would do. Surely they could not hold practice in this weather.
In the library she sat down and tried to act like she was engrossed in To Kill a Mockingbird. But not five minutes later a knock came from the door, sending Homura's heart leaping into her throat. She set the book aside and took a deep breath before calling out.
"Come in."
Asami pulled the door aside and entered. Her blazer was draped over one arm, the sleeves of her uniform rolled up to the elbows. A book bag was slung over her shoulder. Under the other arm was the book she had borrowed.
"Hey." She gave a soft smile. "Mind if I get some work done here?"
Homura shook her head vigorously. Asami walked over to one of the tables near the entrance and set her things down, taking out a small laptop computer. She opened the book to a marked page and flipped through it for a few minutes before beginning to type.
She said nothing further, apparently engrossed in her work. Homura sank low in her chair and stood her own book on the desk in front of her. Rain plinked off the windows outside, bringing attention to the acute silence that would have existed otherwise. Stormy afternoons in the library were usually a personal favorite, but today was proving to be anxiety inducing.
Angling her book forward, she peeked at Asami's features from afar. The girl's hair shone a dark caramel beneath the warm library lights. Her brows, surprisingly strong from a girl, framed a thoughtful expression. She worked her mouth a lot as she worked, pursing and chewing on her lips like she was trying not to smile to herself. Homura found it oddly endearing.
Asami shifted in her seat, sending Homura scurrying back behind her book. She took out a pair of blue-light filtering glasses and perched them on her nose. Through the lenses Homura saw the bright amber of her eyes, soft and mellow like her favorite twilight sun.
They passed two hours in silence. Homura got through about twenty pages in this time, as her eyes kept gravitating elsewhere against her will. At this rate it would have taken her two weeks to finish Norwegian Wood.
At last Asami sat back with a sigh. She rose from her seat and walked over to the printer, which whirred as it spat out her print job. She stacked the papers and returned to her desk for the book, before bringing both to where Homura was sitting.
"Got a stapler?" She asked.
Homura fumbled briefly, yanking open three desk drawers before she saw a stapler and grabbed it. She handed it to Asami, who took it and stapled her papers.
"Thanks. This thing is due tomorrow," she said. "Here's your book, by the way. Thanks for letting me borrow it."
Homura accepted the copy of Norwegian Wood from her upperclassman. She noticed a small lavender colored bookmark had been placed where Homura had read up to.
She blushed and set the book aside. "It's my job."
Asami grabbed a nearby chair and set it in front of Homura's desk, taking a seat. "I noticed you were about halfway through it. Looks like I interrupted just as it was getting good."
Homura shook her head. "That's fine. I've read it before."
"So it's your second time! I'll admit, I don't read much. If something's popular with the other girls I'll pick it up. Usually trendy light novels. I don't reread those though."
Homura smiled softly. "I've read many books. But there aren't many books I like."
Asami laughed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
A peal of thunder rolled across the sky outside. Both girls glanced at the windows in unison, at the tree branches thrashing back and forth beyond.
"That isn't letting up anytime soon," Homura noted.
"Tell me about it." Asami sighed and leaned forward, laying her chin on the desk. Homura fidgeted at her proximity. "Why don't we kill some time?"
That was her first real conversation with the upperclassman she used to admire from afar. She remembered the fine details of that first interaction with startling clarity, hungry as she was to know more about the girl.
Asami was a third year, and a member of the girls' track team. She had joined on a whim last year when she woke up late for her first day of school and sprinted at maximum speed to reach class in time. Apparently she unknowingly blew past the captain of the track team in the process, who later visited Asami's class to recruit her.
Homura let out a small laugh. "People don't typically get recruited that way, do they?"
Asami held her hands up. "Obviously not. She didn't make me join or anything. Just asked me to attend a few practices to try it out. But I ended up liking it a lot."
"How come?"
"Everyone's really nice. The practices are tough, but we do everything together. We train together, stay overnight at meets together…At some point we all kind of know how the others are feeling, without having to use words. That feeling…I don't know what it's called. But I like it a lot."
Those words struck a cord within Homura. She felt a giddy smile forming that she quickly quashed.
Outside, the rain began to abate. Small rays of twilight sun peeked through the cloud cover, refracting off the water droplets clinging to the windows. Though Homura mostly listened, she also shared a bit about herself.
Asami's eyes widened. "So you run this whole place? All by yourself?"
"More or less. No one else is willing to do it."
"And you're here every day, until night?"
"Pretty much."
"You don't get lonely?"
"Alone and lonely aren't the same thing. And no, I like being by myself."
Asami pouted. "Even now?"
Homura flapped her hands. "That's not what I meant."
The other girl laughed. "I know. So do you want to be a librarian one day?"
"Not particularly. This is just a place where I can be relax. As you can see, I am rather antisocial."
Asami smiled. "You don't seem antisocial to me."
Homura averted her gaze. "I'm not antisocial to everyone."
A beam of sunlight snuck through the window. The rain had subsided. An orange sun retook its mantle in the sky, burning away the clouds.
Asami lifted both arms above her head and stretched luxuriously. Her form, lithe and athletic, cast an elegant shadow across the floor of the library.
"Well then," she said. "Shall we head home?"
The two of them gathered their things and left the library, stopping momentarily so Homura could lock the door. They then took the stairs down to the lockers, where swapping out their shoes and retrieving their umbrellas. Homura unchained her bike from the stand while Asami waited, her fingers slipping on the slick rainwater coating the lock.
They walked side by side to the gate. Homura wiped down the seat and handles of her bike before getting on. Huge puddles pockmarked the street before them, hot red clouds reflected there like gouts of fire frozen in time.
Asami took a deep breath, taking in that smell that lingered after a rain. "It's been a while since it rained this hard. Time sure flies."
Homura drummed her fingers across the handles of her bike. "Do you usually stay out this late?"
"The track team meets after school every day. After that, I usually pick a random classroom and study until the sun goes down. My parents want me to go to a good college in the city, but we can't afford cram school. I got the teachers to lend me some extra materials, but they can't let me take them home, obviously."
Homura blinked. "So you're here late every day too?"
"Pretty much. I was surprised when I found out about you, Homura. If you think about it, we were probably alone in the building together every day without knowing it. Funny coincidence, don't you think?"
"Yeah," Homura murmured. "Funny."
Asami smiled. "It's nice to know I'm not all alone though. If I feel like coming by again, can I visit you? I'll try not to be a bother."
Homura's cheeks colored. "You won't be a bother."
"I appreciate that. Well, I'll be heading home now. See you later."
Asami waved and headed off in the opposite direction. Homura watched as her upperclassman's graceful form receded into the distance.
"See you later," Homura murmured back. She couldn't remember the last time she had said something like that.
After a while she shook herself and kicked up the stand of her bike, pedaling down the street.
A strange feeling gripped her as she made her way home. The wind played with her hair as she rode, fresh and cool after the rain. The sky was a wild mix of citrus and azure, like an explosion caught in real time. Her heart rate quickened as she pushed the bike to go faster. The day was over but it wasn't quite nighttime yet; at the border separating today and tomorrow Homura found herself smiling as she headed home.
Twilight was the best part of the day.
A/N
And the promised monthly update is here at last. There's a lot going on in this chapter, so I took some extra time to balance everything out. I do apologize for the long wait between chapters, but we are approaching the eventual conclusion of this story, slowly but surely.
Writing Homura's high school scenes was an interesting experience, by the way. I was trying to convey a sense of adolescent awkwardness, and in doing so I think I slipped back into my older writing style from the past.
Any feedback is greatly appreciated. I do take everyone's comments into account.
Thanks for reading!
-Banshee
