Hitomi looked at the face in the mirror as if it were a stranger.

"You can find yourself putting on a face to the world that's not you, and you don't know how to take it off."

Just how bad am I at really being myself, anyway? she wondered. For that matter, what did that 'self' even mean? Shizuki Hitomi, named after some skater punk who passed away twenty-some-odd years ago, because Papa, of all people, couldn't get over her. Or didn't want to.

She'd had surreal dreams again last night. She had a skateboard, which was ridiculous, because she didn't even know how to operate it, and kept rolling around at low speeds while crouching down, and bumping into things. It was harmless, but frustrating. But then she had gotten stuck on a web of clothes lines strung high above the ground in the blue blue sky, trying to skateboard away from a spider monster with human arms and no head. Her dreams always make a lot of sense, but that last part had been particularly freakish. She tried to shake the image from her mind.

At least Papa never tried to push me into roller skating, she allowed.

Would I have liked skating? she wondered, walking downstairs. Is that really supposed to be who I am, and I'm just denying it?

Maybe ice skating, more than roller skating...

"Good morning, Mama," she said, entering the kitchen. Mama was standing by the counter, prepping some vegetables; rice, and miso soup, were waiting for her for breakfast, warm.

"Good morning, dear," said Mama, "did your have a nice talk with your Papa last night?"

It's none of your business, she thought to herself.

"Yeah. I was worried about school, and couldn't sleep, and he made me feel better about things," she said. Vague, generically true excuse. "I'm sure it will all work out."

I wonder what he was doing, though? He never did say why he was sitting alone in the dark, she realized.

"He talked some sense into you, then?" asked Mama. "That's good. We were starting to worry."

"I'm not quite sure what you mean," she replied.

She really wasn't. Evading. Soliciting details.

"Well," said Mama, "just remember, your Papa and I will always love you, and part of loving you means that we want what's best for you, and that doesn't always mean what feels good in the here and now. You need to use your head and your heart."

Mama and Papa aren't really on the same page here, she realized. She hesitated, thinking of something to say in reply.

"Now, remember," Mama continued, "you're only in middle school. I know that's exactly when you start to go crazy, and that's the reason that you need to be careful, or you could get hurt. You have plenty of time to decide exactly what to with your career, and find a cute boy, and start building a life for yourself, and all that."

"Mama, this really isn't what I talked about with Papa at all," said Hitomi, simply.

"Well, all the more reason we can talk about it now. Listen. If you've found a really cute girl, and want to have a little fun while you're young..."

"... Mama," interrupted Hitomi, "first of all, I haven't found any a cute girl, but second, the last time I said anything like that idea, you said I shouldn't even joke about it. Why have things chang- Oh. This is because of the other night, isn't it? You two worried I was in trouble and now you're going out of your way to be accommodating. Oh, wow, I - I'm not even sure what to say to that."

Her mother held up a hand and gestured for her to stop. "Now, dear, it's nothing like that at all."

"Mother, I'm afraid I'm a little offended."

"Hitomi, dear," said her Mama, a little sharply, "are you charging me with hypocrisy? Please. This is the voice of experience. Well, I suppose I shouldn't really blame you; reality is seldom as neat as one would like it."

"Experience?" said Hitomi, annoyed. "Well, I really must confess, I haven't heard you speak of any special knowledge in such matters."

Her mother abruptly stopped chopping halfway through a carrot, and for a moment, Hitomi was afraid she'd gone too far, and that her mother was about to lecture her about talking back. But then Mama stepped back from the counter with an impish grin on her face, and turned to face her, and patted her hands together with just a bit of excitement.

What did I just call down upon myself?

"Well you see, dearest, when I was just a young girl, a little bit older than you, I used to have the most wonderful of times with a cute girl your age. You couldn't even imagine the sort of trouble we'd got in together. I had a reputation like you wouldn't believe. They gossiped about me roller skating naked through the halls all the way to Kazamino City. Oh, and when we could head off alone together... oh, it was sinfully delightful."

Hitomi covered her mouth, which was agape.

...I thought Papa was teasing, when he said I should ask her.

Mama took in the look on her face, then closed her eyes for a moment, reminiscing.

"Believe me, dear, I know in the most exquisite detail exactly what sort of trouble a girl your age can get up to, and I've lived through the consequences as well. If I try my best to steer you away from certain things, well, I've been there, done that, and wouldn't particularly wish that kind of angst and heartbreak on you."

Mama turned back to the counter, and picked up the knife she'd placed down before.

"I'm ... I'm not sure what you're getting at specifically, Mother," said Hitomi. She really didn't.

"Well, two things. First, I'm just trying to make sure you're not too uptight about things," said Mama. She turned back to face Hitomi, still holding the knife, waving it around to make points in the conversation. It was am unsettling effect. "Don't be uptight about enjoying cute girls, and don't be too uptight about boys either. They're not all gross. Some of them are nice like your father."

Hitomi just looked at the pointy knife skeptically.

"Secondly, in balance with that, you should be careful. It only takes one incident to change the way people at school think about you forever. Just, use your head, and avoid scandal. Under no circumstances is the administration to inform me of any Escapades."

"Mama!" said Hitomi. "Please be careful with the knife!"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I'm sorry, dear." She finally applied the knife to the rest of the vegetables.

"And I'm not even in a relationship!" said Hitomi.

Mama blinked. "Well, then, if you ever are," she continued, waving the knife again, "just keep it in mind as advice."

"Well, then, Mama," she said, "I'm sorry. I've misjudged you."

"You're not too shocked, I hope," said Mama, and it seemed like teasing.

"Well, I guess you weren't the sweet girl I assumed you were," said Hitomi. It's a little uncomfortable._

Mama chuckled. "Oh, no... but then neither was she. Ah, it's like they say. The candle that burns twice as bright, you know."

Something clicked. roller skating naked through the hall...

"Oh," said Hitomi. "Oh no."

"Oh, no, what? Oh, you figured it out, your parents are people who've had sex. It's a pretty scary idea, I know, but if you think about it -"

"Mother. You didn't."

"What exactly didn't I?"

"Does Papa know?"

"Dear, not only does your Papa know I dated a girl, I went out of my way to teach him all the tricks that we discovered together."

Hitomi's face turned red. "That's not what I meant!"

"Then what?"

There's no way.

"Did you at least tell him her name?"

Mama hesitated for a moment too long.

"Oh, Mama, you're joking. You and Papa set this up."

"What? What did your father tell you?"

"... I'm sorry. I can't deal with this right now, I just can't," said Hitomi, setting down a half eaten breakfast and picking up her bento. "Go ask him yourself!"

. . . . .

My life is a joke, and the joke is on me. It's like the plot of the stupidest romance movie ever, except those two apparently somehow managed it. There's even a title. "Oh, for the love of Yukari Hitomi."

She stood beneath a tree, at the spot she usually waited for the others, and took deep breaths until Madoka arrived.

"Oh, good morning, Hitomi," said Madoka.

"Good morning to you too, Madoka!" she replied, trying to sound cheerier than she actually was. "How are you? I feel like we haven't talked too much lately."

Madoka nodded, tiredly. "Yeah, I know, I'm sorry."

She took note of the time. "It's a little late already - do you know if Sayaka's coming?"

"I don't know," said Madoka, "I think she ... might be staying home today."

"Oh. Were you two out late? You sound pretty tired yourself."

"Maybe a little."

They walked along the path together. Madoka was quiet, maybe even downright glum.

"You two have been spending a lot of time together," noted Hitomi.

"Yeah," admitted Madoka, "I, uh, I shouldn't really talk about it though..."

"Well, I just hope she's all right," said Hitomi. "You're not fighting or anything, are you?"

"No, it's not like that," replied Madoka. "It's just, well..." She paused. "I really shouldn't say anything, but, I guess she kinda made a big decision, without knowing everything it would mean. So she was pretty happy about it for a while, but then the bad stuff just sort of hit her all at once."

"Oh," said Hitomi. I wonder what her mother told her.

"I think in her heart she still thinks it's the right thing, but it's still really tough for her, so if you do see her, try to be extra nice, okay?"

"... Oh. Oh, of course, Madoka."

Hitomi was impressed. She's a very good person. Discreet, but kind, and caring. They must be under a lot of pressure, though.

The thing I worry about with Sayaka, mused Hitomi, is that she can get really enthusiastic and excited about doing something... which is usually good, but when she gets in over her head... well, she can feel stuck and properly frightened.

There was an incident that came to mind, a few years back, at the swimming pool. They had been jumping the pool with ever more elaborate twists and splashes, until Sayaka announced that she would outdo them all and go off the high dive. She had climbed up, a determined grin across her face, walked to the edge... and just froze. They'd called out to her to jump down, at first, then Madoka had told her it was okay and she could go back, but even then, she was just too scared to move. The lifeguard had to climb up and coax her back down.

If she's really missing school over it, it might be bad.

. . . . .

"Miss Shizuki?" asked the principal, with some surprise. "That's quite extraordinary. I don't think she was even absent the next day, was she? I'd have noticed if her name was on the list."

"I'm impressed," said Ikari, "do you know all your students this well?"

"Detectives," he explained, "Miss Shizuki's family is not only a pillar of the community, but the young woman herself is an exemplary honor student with a perfect attendance record. There's a little joke on the faculty, about the only reason she's not student council president: it's because our school doesn't elect a student council. I expect that if she attends Mitakihara High School, she's quite likely to be valedictorian."

"All the more reason for concern, then," said Mitsuhiro.

"Well, then, gentlemen, how can I be of assistance?"

"To start with, Miss Shizuki said she thought she saw a classmate on the scene. We called immediately, but her parents reported that she was safe at home. We've since obtained evidence that suggests there might have been another student on the scene, and we're trying to follow up."

He considered. "So, are you looking for things like school photos, lists of recent absences, things like that? I can send you some of our student records, print you out some photos..."

"That would be ideal. Thank you."

"Also..." He paused. "Well, hopefully it's nothing, but there is one student who's been absent since just before the incident."

"That's disconcerting," said Mitsuhiro.

"Tomoe Mami," he said, pulling up the record. "A troubling case; she lost both of her parents not too long ago. Her discipline record is clean, but her teachers say she's a real loner, her grades are well below her potential. She's clearly struggling. Her attendance record is so spotty that if she didn't have a waiver, on account of her parents' deaths, she'd be failing all her classes."

"Aw, geez," said Ikari. "We'll see if we can pay a visit."

. . . . .

"Well, the trash looks like it's been left for days," said Ikari, closing the lid in disgust. "I suppose we should check with several of the neighbors to be sure..."

"Sure. But is there really a connection, or is this just a coincidence?" asked Mitsuhiro.

Something caught Ikari's eye. "Hold on a moment," he said, walking over to the table.

"School notes?" asked Mitsuhiro.

Ikari picked up a notebook from the table. There was a pencil sketch of a little girl on the cover, and it was mostly blank inside, save for a two-page spread near the front full of sketches. He regarded it skeptically.

"It seems our Miss Tomoe was an artist."

Mitsuhiro looked. "Was she?"

"Come on, it's not that bad. By middle school standards, anyway."

"No," said Mitsuhiro, "hold on a moment, go back to the cover. Yeah. I don't think Tomoe is the artist, I think it's the girl on the cover."

"Huh," said Ikari. "You're right. And our artist gives herself the colored pencils."

Mitsuhiro took out a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket, a printout of Shizuki Hitomi's homeroom class. He found what he was looking for immediately.

"Would you believe it," asked Mitsuhiro, "if I told you that that our artist might just be the same girl we didn't find at the scene?"

"What?" He looked over to the paper. "What the hell."

"You think maybe she's the one who placed the call, too?"

He considered. "Maybe. I don't know. I mean, it could just be a coincidence; they do go to the same school. We really should have tried to see if someone can voice-ID the tape... what, what's the matter?"

Ikari had been making a face.

"You ever work a school case before? It's delicate; if you go in asking hard questions, the rumor mill starts grinding. All the kids are afraid you want to read their yearbook notes and get them in trouble for playing hooky, and the teachers go all protective, the parents all get upset that you're treating their perfect angels as a suspect. Especially at a fancy school like that."

"I dunno," said Mitsuhiro. "but finding out who our mystery caller is still seems more important than a missing-student case."

Ikari considered. "I'd still feel a lot better if we weren't showing everyone our best evidence. We've got a few fresh leads here, and they smell like the same sort of weirdness we've looking at."

"Really?"

"Call it a hunch," said Ikari.

Mitsuhiro considered. "Well, it still doesn't feel right, but I'm not sure I'd like to bet against one of your hunches, either. Sure. Let's make Kaname Madoka a person of interest."

. . . . .

Hitomi had to get to a piano lesson. That much would be okay. It was the part when she got home that worried her.

I wonder if they'll say anything to each other, she considered. Of course, Papa would have been at work most of the day, and would only get home about the same time as she did. So maybe not.

"It was good hanging out," said Madoka. "Sorry that things have been so weird lately."

It was just the cafe at the mall, and they had mostly worked on schoolwork. Madoka was a little behind, on the English especially, which was always easier for Hitomi to do than to explain. Still, it was good to spend time with her.

"I'm just glad you're feeling better," said Hitomi.

"Yeah. Thanks a lot for the help."

"A pleasure." She smiled. "Tell Sayaka I said hello, okay?"

"Okay!" said Madoka.

You know, come to think of it, realized Hitomi, that's a almost little indiscreet of her, thought Hitomi. But I guess Sayaka is in good hands.

. . . . .

"How was practice, dear?"

Practice was gloriously distracting, Mama.

"Oh. I'm very sorry, Mother, but as a matter of principle I'm not talking to you until you've talked with Father," she said, "and vice versa."

Her mother considered for a moment, before settling on insincere praise. "Oh. Oh my, could my little angel be entering the rebellious teenager phase, after all these years? How splendid. You really are growing up."

A dangerously effective tactic, considered Hitomi, but I think I can take the upper hand...

"I really must insist," said Hitomi. "I think it's actually really important, because it's about me, and you're both offering your guidance and support, but you are not on the same page at all, and it makes me genuinely uncomfortable," she explained.

Honesty and plain dealing. In the name of justice and peace, or something.

"Oh," said Mama. "Well, I'm sorry. Your papa said he'd be running late, so I suppose I'll have a word with him this evening. You don't need to be like that about it, though," she chided.

Hitomi smiled, as she made her way upstairs. "Practice was gloriously distracting, Mama."

Well, that went better than expected, she thought as she entered her room.

Maybe she'd have a peaceful evening after all.

. . . . .

Besides, she reasoned to herself, watching the clock creep past midnight, the idea of someone somehow inheriting traits from their namesake doesn't really work. There's no scientific mechanism for that sort of thing within the name.

Then again, miracles and magic were real.

And honestly, for a moment, I'd forgotten. How could I have let that happen?

She rolled over to face away from the clock, and sighed to herself.

Under no circumstances whatsoever am I going to name my daughter Shizuki Madoka, in loving memory.

That name doesn't even make sense, noted another part of her inner monologue. It wouldn't be Shizuki. Unless we were very modern about it, and I don't think Papa would be on board.

...No Kamijou Madoka, either then.

Kamijou?

"Don't be too uptight about boys, either," she recalled her mother saying. "They're not all gross. Some of them are nice..."

She sighed, and flopped back over. This didn't help her to sleep, either.