(A.N.: Heck. 3k words!)

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[Chapter 9: Of Calculating Machines]

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Maybe it was because she couldn't focus without her glasses. Madoka stood at the kitchen, staring at Homura, who, unaware of Madoka's lost gaze, was taking an order from a table. She was listening intently to a man, who was occasionally looking at the menu. Madoka watched Homura calmly jot down the request and after doing so, she added, "Anything else?"

The man politely shook his head, and Homura smiled and nodded. There was no depth in that smile. But it wasn't bad. The man resorted to looking out the window while he waited, and Homura tore the page off the little notepad and gave it to Madoka.

The pink haired girl was lost.

Was this really the Homura she had talked to, when they had met? She didn't know what to make of this new persona in front of her. But did she dislike it? The calm, collected Homura with an aura of mystery, a face devoid of emotion, and eyes that seemed… blank. Did Madoka find it unlikeable?

…No. She didn't. In fact, this new persona seemed like a mystery. Akin to Pandora's Box. Madoka didn't know exactly what she had felt when looking at the new personification of her friend. But she was sure it wasn't repulsion.

As she nodded and looked at the silky, flowing black hair sway with Homura's departure to another table, she subconsciously transferred the note received to her father, who was in the kitchen with her. Normally, the father and daughter would be in the kitchen, and mother Kaname would tend to the customers. When the café traffic was minimal, Madoka would spend her leisure time elsewhere.

On times that are crucial, the three Kanames struggled to keep themselves afloat. Whenever one table was ready to order, some other table needed to make an order as well. Well, the café was spacious and had room for many customers, but either than aesthetics, it would be a source of great difficulty.

Madoka never wanted to wish for anything less than a café full of customers, but now that it has become true, she realized that she was way out of her depth. Her whole family alone couldn't mitigate the situation properly, so Homura was practically doing all of the heavy lifting.

Madoka broke out of her trance, and shook her head. She noticed that her kitchen timer had gone off. Putting on her mitts, she opened up the oven, and pulled out several trays of baked goods. Most of them were part of various orders, and the ones that remained, was kept nearby.


Homura, on the other hand, moved with grace. The silky, long hair that moved with her steps, and the apron that gave her a sharp aura of profession, was all that took to make her a formidable waitress. She didn't show much emotion, other than the mild smile she had on for the customers.

She even spoke with proper manners, and did so very calmly. It was enough for anyone to believe that she was doing all of it with ease.

But honestly, she was not.

She kept telling herself inwardly, "Madoka is depending on me. I cannot disappoint her. I must help her." On and on, she kept telling herself that, like a mental mantra, chanting away. She only took breaks when she needed to focus on talking to a customer.

She didn't realize that her outlook had changed after the removal of her glasses. The bridge of her nose was accustomed to the weight of the plastic ornament, but it didn't take long for her to forget that she didn't have any spectacles on. After all, she could see just fine without them.

Homura and the Kanames spent an hour or two, just to tend to half of the customers. And within that time, they quickly gained a sense of unison. Madoka's mother, who said calling her 'Junko' was okay, made up for all of Homura's shortcomings. The older lady was impressed by the girl's quick learning capacity,, of how she adapted to situations that should have been hard to handle for Madoka herself.

After a while, they were in sync. They could handle multiple orders with minimal instructions, and did so with marvellous efficiency . So, the remaining half of the crowd was easy to serve. The room had proper air conditioning, but even though that was the case, the four of them couldn't help but break a sweat on occasion.

Madoka's father, who helped Madoka in the kitchen, also took note of Homura's abilities as a waitress. He was impressed as well, but couldn't personally compliment her, as his duty with the coffeemaker was far from complete.

He was grinding the coffee beans when he spoke to Madoka.

"She's amazing, isn't she?" He said to her daughter, without taking his eyes off his grinder. But strangely, he got no reply. Did she go to the bathroom?

He looked at where Madoka was, and he saw her standing there. Madoka had the icing bag in her hands, and a freshly baked cupcake underneath it. But she was not doing anything. Her eyes were glued to something else. Following her line of sight, he confirmed the source of her daughter's fascination.

Her friend. Akemi Homura.

He looked back at her daughter, who was still looking intently at her. There was no particular emotion on her face. But he knew that she was thinking. About what, he didn't know. Bringing his attention back to the grinder, he sighed.

"It can't be, right?", he muttered with a sigh. He wasn't upset. But he was a bit confused.

Shrugging it off, he resumed his task, brewing the best coffee he could.


It took three hours for the waves of customers to leave. Three hours of hard work.

Three hours of voluntary work for Homura.

The elder Kanames felt a lot of guilt. They had thought that some minimal help from Homura would have covered it. But the fact that she did more work in three hours than what Junko did in a whole month was bad. They were also very impressed with how efficient Homura had been. Her timing with waiting tables were calculated, something that Junko had noticed.

As soon as one table was ready to order, Homura was there. She had to predetermine which table would order next, and which table needed refills. That amount of organizing and mental calculation was something that only Madoka's mother had noticed.

The couple had to come to an agreement. Homura needed to be paid for her efforts. But paying her a lot would make Madoka feel bad, they had thought, however unlikely it seemed. Maybe if they told Madoka, she'd understand.

And with that, an envelope was prepared with Homura's name on it. Inside was her payment.

But that gave birth to a problem they didn't predict.

"I'm sorry," Homura said, bowing down, "I can't accept that."

The three Kanames were at a loss.

"It's okay, Akemi-san", Madoka's father said. "It's payment for your efforts today. You deserve it."

But Homura was adamant.

"It looked like you were having some difficulty, so I volunteered for just a day," she said, smiling. Her voice had an air of embarrassment, even if she didn't show it. "I can't accept any money. I had fun working with all of you."

She bowed again, lightly.

'Ah, its an angel type', Junko thought. 'I'm sure she means it, but not giving her anything would be bad.'

And then, Madoka did something outstanding.

"Hey, Homura-chan?" She said calmly. "If you won't take money as payment, what else would you like?"

There was no ill intent behind her words.

Homura was surprised. She looked at the floor, and started to think of a reasonable alternative. Something that the Kanames would have no problem providing, and something that had no monetary value.

And she found one.

"Do you have any equipment that you liked, but unfortunately got broken?"

The three Kanames were confused to say the very least. They looked at eachother, but didn't know what to make of it.

"Yes, there's an espresso machine that Madoka loved," said Madoka's father. "But a few days ago, it just stopped working. It was expensive to begin with, and we couldn't find a shop that fixed it for a low enough price. We were thinking of throwing it away and get a cheaper one."

Homura's eyes started to glow with determination.

"C-can I have it?" She said, her excitement shining through her expressionless face.

"You want a broken espresso machine?" Madoka gave her a look of confusion.

Homura clasped Madoka's hands in her own, not realizing how embarrassed she would have been at normal circumstances. Madoka on the other hand, was busy processing the situation.

"Yes," Homura said, nodding. "Is it okay if I took it instead of it being thrown away?"

Madoka managed a stuttering "Y-Yeah"

After that, her father gave Homura a box which contained the said machine. It wasn't very big. It was almost 15 inches wide, and looked like a cube that weighed less than a few kilos.

Carrying the box with both her hands didn't stress her out. And that was enough.


Homura left at noon.

She had not said goodbye. As soon as she had the box in her hands, she managed a "Thank you" and left in a hurry.

Madoka, along with her parents were dumbfounded. After 15 minutes of Homura's strange departure, Madoka realized the pair of glasses in her room. She figured that she'll give it back to her later. She felt terrible enough already for taking it. She didn't want to add and extra layer of guilt to the amount of confusion she was feeling.

In her room, she laid in her bed, arms outstretched, facing the ceiling. Closing her eyes, she tried to find out why Homura would do such a thing. And what did she even do?

Nothing except her last image of Homura came to mind. The black haired girl had a look of satisfaction. As if she finally found something after searching for a long time. Madoka's eyes darted open. She didn't understand.

Did Homura really need a broken espresso machine?

Who would want that?

She sighed, when she remembered that Homura didn't even return her apron. She looked at her desktop, across the room. On it, some light glare reflected off of the pair of red-framed spectacles.

"At least we're even."

After 2 hours, however, when Madoka was lazily toying with a sugar cube in the kitchen counter, still worried about the actions of Homura, she heard the bell of the entrance ring, signalling the arrival of a customer.

And when Madoka put the sugar cube in its proper place, tidied up her apron and went to call her mother to serve the customer, she noticed that it was Homura.

"…Homura…chan?" She said, trying her best to hide her surprise.

"Sorry for being late," Homura said with an apologetic smile. She still had her apron on, and in her hands, was the same box she had left with.

Madoka wanted to ask many things, but before she could do so, her mother came in.

"Homura-chan?" She said, surprised. "I thought you went home."

"I did," Homura said, in a way that conveyed that she didn't know why they were confused.

"Is that the espresso machine?" Junko asked, as she noticed the box.

Homura outstretched her arms and handed the box to Madoka.

"Try it."

Madoka was confused again. Did Homura forget that the box was broken and realized it was like that when she tried using it back at home? Was she going to blame them for giving her a broken machine?

A cold shiver ran down her spine when she had thought that.

No, Homura wouldn't do something like that. She was a good girl.

She murmured an "okay" and took the box to the kitchen. Her mother and Homura followed.

The box was unpacked, and the machine was taken out. It was put on the counter and it was plugged to a nearby socket. Junko didn't say anything.

"Press the button," Homura said with a smile.

And Madoka did it.

To the amazement of the Kanames, the green LED lit up, and the gentle internal whirring of the machine could be heard. The pink haired girl was stunned.

Madoka was in love with the machine when it had worked. She used it for more than a year. Through the exams, the sad days, and happy moments, the machine would provide her an excellent espresso. And she would feel her bones tingle with excitement. It was a friend. But when it broke a week ago, she was devastated. It was like saying goodbye to a very close friend. Something that affected her deeply.

And now, it came back to life.

She inhaled sharply as she ran her hand across the outside of the metal chassis, a gentle friction reminding her of the memories she was willing to bury. It was an object of immense emotional attachment for Madoka.

She looked at Homura, feeling goosebumps on her skin.

"I'm good with machines," Homura said, a little abashed. "I was able to fix it for you. Your father said you liked it, didn't he?"

Homura didn't get a reply. Madoka did not give her one. She just took her hand off the machine, jumped her way to Homura and put her arms around her neck, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"K-Kaname-san?" Homura said, her voice meek and her face beet red out of being caught off guard.

"...Just Madoka is fine," the pink haired girl said, her voice slightly breaking due to the level of raw emotion she was feeling. Her tears didn't appear. She was just a but overwhelmed by what Homura did for her.

Homura sensed this, as she could feel her friend slightly trembling and her grasp tightening. It wasn't uncomfortable. Rather, it was gentle, and warm. She noticed Junko who stood a few steps before her, and having her arms folded, she smiled at her.

"I'll go and prepare something for Homura-chan." She said, the smile still glued onto her face, as she left the two alone in the kitchen.

Homura relaxed, still feeling a bit embarrassed by Madoka's advancement. She realized that the espresso machine was really very important for Madoka. So she let her friend have her moment. She rested her chin in the crook of Madoka's neck, and put her arms around her friend, patting her back gently.

"Did I do good today?"Homura whispered gently.

Madoka hummed a positive response.

"Then I'm glad," Homura said with a satisfied smile.


After they had their moment, which had lasted for more than a minute, the two had to break apart from each other. Junko had brought Madoka's father from their room, and he was also dazzled by Homura's achievement. He knew that the machine was surely very complex, as it had many features. It was amazing how his daughter's friend fixed it within such a short time.

Homura had some snacks with the family, which made Homura feel more at ease than she already was. As she had a cup of the espresso Madoka had made for her using the machine, she realized how special it actually was, and why it was so important to Madoka. She took a deep breath, the smell of the steamy beverage warming up her insides. It gave off a heavenly feeling.

It was bliss.

Suddenly, she forgot the stress of the day's work, became more relaxed, and took another deep breath. It brought back memories of that day when she stepped into the cafe for the first time. Had it really been several days?

It felt like years, as strange as that sounded.

She looked down at the froth that rested above the coffee. A few miniscule bubbles popped around the edges. She then looked up at Madoka, who sat on the counter, happy as ever, swinging her legs to and fro. She hummed a made up tune as she stroked the espresso machine occasionally. It was a sight that Homura never saw before. Madoka was really happy. And Homura had made her happy. It made her feel giddy, but she tried not to show it.

After a few moments, Junko came into the kitchen.

"We've been thinking, Homura-chan," Junko said. Homura focused on the woman's words, listening intently. "You said you only worked for a day, and because you volunteered, you wouldn't accept the payment, right?"

"Yes,"Homura said, nodding politely.

"Well, we agreed to make you a proposal." Junko continued. "Would you like to work here part-time? You not only worked hard, but you also fixed our espresso machine for free. If we weren't able to repay you for that, we'd feel bad. So we came up with a middle-ground." She paused for a moment, before continuing. " What do you say?"

Homura's eyes widened. She looked at Madoka, who was also surprised, but there was a glint of something else in her eyes.

Hope?

...Maybe.

She thought about it. Certainly, working here part time would make it okay for her to accept money. But she didn't want money. But why did she find the offer so enticing?

She frowned, looking down at her espresso. She clamped her hands around the warm mug and took a deep breath of the caffeinated steam to clear her head.

...Maybe it was because she could see Madoka more often.

Yes. That was it. Homura didn't see it as strange. After all, Madoka was her dear friend. It wasn't strange to want to meet your friend often, right?

No, certainly not.

She looked at Junko and gave her reply.

"Thank you, Junko-san,"Homura said. "I would like to work here. But I have to ask my mother for permission first."

Junko muttered an "Okay", and smiled.

She looked at her daughter, who was ecstatically hugging Homura now, the latter getting flustered, and trying her best to keep the espresso in her hand from falling.

'This could end up being a good thing after all', she thought to herself, before chuckling at the two girls who were lost in a world of their own.

-(End of Chapter 9)-


And that's all folks. The story ends here...

Just kidding. It doesn't end here. I haven't touched the best parts yet. (Including KyoSaya. Wink.) We're just getting started!

(I wish I could reply to the anonymous reviews that showed up in this story recently. If you are reading this, know that I took it to heart. It feels amazing to know that I was successful in creating a sense of immersion. You shouldn't sell your efforts short. At first, I had only cringe-worthy writing, really bad feedback, and horrible grammar to show, but I have come a long way since then. You can do that as well. Just know that the path has no end, until you choose to give up. I hope I was able to get that across, dear anonymous reviewer.)

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Take Care,

DSH99