Chapter 40

In the Closet

"Momma?" Junko turned her head, masking a quick pang of guilt with her dazzling smile. She'd been in the middle of thinking about-

Shaking her head, the purple-haired woman sat up and beckoned her daughter to enter the room. Her study, as she enjoyed calling it, was dominated by a wall with six large displays arranged in a rectangular pattern. Each one showed something different; news reports, stock tickers, a live action feed of the National Diet's subcommittee hearing about an anti-protectionism policy that was destined to have an impact on the currency trade... with a sigh, realizing that she hadn't really been paying attention anyway, Junko reached out to the long glass table that was placed in front of the leather couch she had been reclining on. Pushing a stack of trade publications aside, she tapped the glass, which immediately darkened and revealed the command console. Another tap and the displays went dark.

"How is your party going, sweetie?" Junko inquired, watching her daughter sit down hesitantly on the couch beside her. With a finger under her chin, she raised the girl's head up, looking into her worried eyes. "What's wrong?"

Madoka squirmed uncomfortably. She'd left Sayaka at the room of her door, feigning a need to ask her mother a question. Which, really, was pretty much the truth. "I... I have a problem. There's, well, there's somebody I like," she began, quickly adding, "It's not Homura-chan, is the thing. I... just..." She broke off, confused at the astounded look in her mother's eyes.

Junko felt like she'd just been punched in the stomach. It had been a rough couple of days, since she'd had her first talk with Madoka's friend. Difficult, but also wildly exciting. What had begun as a harmless dalliance had started to eat away at her from the inside, and she'd noticed that she had gotten... sharper with her daughter the more attached she'd become to the damaged, black-haired beauty. She wasn't used to the feeling of guilt. Classic transference, if memories from an introductory Psychology course her college days could be relied upon, and considered herself adult enough to know when things had gone too far.

But when she'd seen her, standing on the stairs...

And now-

"You... don't like Homul-er-chan?"

Madoka couldn't help sighing, suspecting her mother of having begun drinking despite her promise to the pinkette earlier that day. I'm not saying you embarrass me, it's just sometimes, you're... too much fun! she'd tried, and it had worked. Or so she'd thought.

"No, not that way. Homura-chan," she said clearly, "is a good friend. But I don't think she likes me that way, either, which is good because, well..."

Junko smiled brilliantly, her radiance dispelling some of her daughter's dark feelings. "Ah, the mysterious 'somebody' that you mentioned..."

Madoka blushed. "Y-yes. I... it's, um, complicated."

"It always is!" Junko laughed, much louder than was called for. "If it wasn't, it wouldn't be half as much fun," she mused, almost to herself. Her daughter looked at her uncertainly. "One day you'll understand."

"Well, today, right now, I wish everything was easier." Junko allowed the pinkette to pout for exactly three seconds before coaxing her along with a gesture. "Is... is it bad, to have... feelings, for someone your friend likes too?"

Junko's gaze turned reflective. "No, not at all! Why, some of my most... memorable relationships were the result of such a, well, I suppose you could call it a contest." She smiled, remembering the sweet taste of victory. "You shouldn't let it ruin a friendship, of course, not one you value at least. It can be an effective way of ending one you've stopped caring about, however!" She chuckled evilly, not noticing her daughter's horrified stare. "May the best woman win."

"Ah," the pinkette began, "W-what if... what if your friend is already... dating that person?"

The purple-haired woman frowned. "Now you are getting into the serious stuff. It's, ah, against the V code to steal a friend's love; any woman's, really, but especially not a friend's. There's no getting around that. Some women, well, they don't let that stop them, but they are mostly a bunch of filthy skanks." Madoka's eyes didn't widen in shock; Junko had a tendency to speak her mind about these issues, and her daughter had been more than a little intimidated by all of her stories and opinions about relationships. She'd become inured to some of the harsher language, though. "It gets murky when you start having reason to suspect that your friend doesn't really love the person. Then, their selfishness is getting in the way of your happiness, so anything goes. But that's a very subjective..."

A stray memory leapt out at Junko. "Madoka, this wouldn't have anything to do with that boy Sayaka has had a crush on forever, does it?"

Madoka's cheeks were suddenly full of color. "Oh, Sayaka-chan isn't dating Kyousuke," she began softly, Junko having to strain to hear. "That's Hitomi-chan. Sayaka-chan is dating, um," the pinkette adjusted her collar nervously, feeling constricted. "Kyoko," she finished in a peep.

Junko's purple eyes widened, feeling an abrupt increase in her opinion of the sometimes-annoying blunette. Sayaka does wear those sensible shoes. Never thought she had it in her. And landing that little tart of a red-head, my my my. With a little work, she could be a real beauty... Plans began forming in the woman's mind. After a minute of patient waiting, Madoka continued the conversation by herself.

"Well, when they got together, it was pretty abrupt, and there wasn't, like, any connection between them before. And she's so... stifling. Controlling, I guess. I mean, she's a wonderful person in a lot of ways, and one of the best friends I've ever had. Just... she's not right for..." she trailed off, looking forlorn.

Junko kept the smile lurking inside of her at bay, conscious of her daughter's pain. She reached out an arm, giving her a little hug. "I'm sorry, darling Madoka, but this is another one of those choices you'll have to make for yourself. I know in my heart you'll regret it if you never tell this... someone special about how you feel. But," she warned, looking very serious, "this is the kind of thing that can make an enemy out of a friend. You have to decide: which means more to you?" As a loving mother who cherished the relationship she had with her daughter, aside from that obvious bit of advice she wasn't touching this one with a three-meter-long pole.

Madoka considered, but it wasn't very difficult. It was strange how a few days of separation could put so much distance between people. But so far, from what she'd seen, those two were not meant to be together.

Kyoko had been dismayed when, upon entering the kitchen, she saw the bags she'd brought lying carelessly on the counter top. "Oh no, no noooo!" she moaned, noticing the thick, dark fluid that slowly leaked from one of the bags, spreading across the expensive-looking marble counter. Rushing over, she gingerly began lifting item after item out of the bag, many of them coated in what could only be melted ice cream.

She mournfully held a soggy box of Caplico treats to her face, wishing she had kept herself from sampling so many of the treats that were now coated in thick melted ice cream. The chocolate-filled pink cones were a total loss. She looked at the stained visage of the ice cream cone mascot, it's vaguely disturbing beak and dead, blank eyes seeming to laugh at her frustration. Is this the meaning of irony? she wondered.

"Homura!" she roared. The person who'd been entrusted to see that her snacks had been safely stored, who'd volunteered to help... if this was the kind of help Homura gave, then there was no way they were teaming up for Walpurgisnacht.

She fumbled around the cupboards, finally finding one filled with dishes. Carefully, using the wet cardboard box of her fake ice cream cones, she tried to collect the remnant ice cream into a bowl. Barely half full, she mournfully placed it in the freezer, looking at the mess smeared along the counter, and the pile of sodden and partly ruined snacks.

The pain was almost too much. In desperation, she flung about for anything to help ease her sorrow and the rage threatening to build up behind it. She opened the refrigerator door, and her gaze locked on a pile of treasure the likes of which she hadn't ever seen.

Stuffing three pieces of bacon, whole, into her mouth, she savored the sweet, salty deliciousness. Who keeps so much cooked bacon in their refrigerator? She wondered. There must have been two pounds of it, stacked up all tantalizingly. Somebody awesome, she answered herself, grabbing a fistful of the slender strips and stuffing them into a worn pocket, her ire temporarily forgotten.

After a passionate argument about music, Madoka had asked Kyoko to pick a game to play, hoping to keep the discussion from coming to blows.

"How's it going, ladies?" Junko inquired, stepping into the room and feeling a little giddy. She noticed her daughter playfully rolling her eyes, playing cool for her friends. It was adorable.

"Mom, nobody says 'How's it going?' anymore." Homura looked like she was about to argue the point, but Junko smiled even wider.

"Oh, really? Must be because I'm so old and lame," she sighed theatrically.

"Nobody says 'lame,' either!" the pinkette giggled.

Junko's eyes narrowed with furious determination, the smile getting more dangerous. Then she shouted "WASSUP, GIRRRRLS?!" Seeing her daughter's lips open to protest, she went on. "What's the haps, bitches?" Even the hard-eyed red-head was looking at her in amazement now. Junko had always performed best for an audience. "What's cookin', good lookin'? What's clickin', good lickin'?" For the last, she spared just the smallest fraction of a glance in a particular girl's direction. "What's shakin', bacon?" she added, giving her daughter a none-too-gentle spank.

Madoka was visibly flustered, rubbing her backside; she noticed how furiously Homura-chan was suddenly blushing, and was feeling humiliated by the antic's of her mother. "Okay, Mom, that's en-"

"Holla at ya mama," Junko finished, completing her daughter's abject mortification. Kyoko was laughing along with Sayaka, and even Homura wore an amused smile. Oh well, not everyone can be... fun, she thought, patting her daughter's head consolingly. "So sorry, Madoka, it won't happen again. I'm just so... old. And... lame." Homura had her mouth open in denial, even though she knew the woman was joking. "So, what are you doing?"

"We're about to play a game, want to join us?" her daughter asked, once again bouncing with excitement. Even though the purple-haired woman tended to overshadow her less impressive daughter, Madoka remembered Homura-chan's idle hope that she join in their play. She doesn't have a mother of her own, the pinkette reflected sadly for around the fifteen-thousandth time.

Glancing at the transfer student, she was happy to see the excitement in her eyes as Junko walked across the room. "Sounds like fun," she began agreeably, slowly lowering herself to the ground to join the four sitting girls. "What are we playing?"

"Kyoko-chan picked this one, it's called... I can't remember," the pinkette finished, feeling ashamed.

"Seven Minutes of Heaven." Kyoko's look was carefully innocent.

"Wh-what?" Junko asked, pausing her descent and cupping a hand to her ear, thinking she must have heard wrong.

"I was raised Christian," the red-head added by way of explanation.

"Oh you poor thing," Junko said sympathetically. Still, she didn't think that was a particularly Christian sort of game...

Madoka piped in again. "I've never heard of it, but basically you get locked in the closet for seven minutes with someone. And, well, you talk and stuff. You're all alone, so you can... um, share secrets and things." Madoka hadn't thought much about the game, other than hoping that she wouldn't have to spend seven minutes alone with Kyoko-chan. She had a nervous feeling it might have been more than she could handle.

Junko, not quite seated, paused, then slowly stood up. "Oh, I just remembered," she began, backing out of the room. Without another word, she slowly backed away until she was out of sight. The door mysteriously closed a moment later.

"Is she... coming back?" Homura asked after a fairly awkward minute of silence, looking at Madoka as if somehow she knew.

"Um, I... I don't think so," the pinkette stated uncertainly. Homura blew the hair out of her eyes with an explosive sigh. Sayaka sat up, Kyoko wiped the tears from her eyes, and both complimented the girl on her awesome mother.

"Total MILF, too," Kyoko added, with a light elbow to Madoka's ribs. The pinkette winced, holding her side like she'd been punched.

"What is that? I've never heard that word," Madoka asked. The older she got, the more strange words she didn't understand. It was frustrating, especially when everyone else seemed to know exactly what things meant. Like now, for example. Sayaka was staring daggers at the red-head, and Homura-chan was staring in shock. And, for just a moment, Madoka thought she saw something much, much darker flash in the transfer student's eyes.

It made her very, very curious.

"It just means, like, you got a hot mom, I guess." Kyoko stated.

Madoka looked at Kyoko; she'd always implicitly understood how amazing her mother was, but had never really considered that other people found her beautiful. Especially not one of her friends. She glanced between the other two girls, but Sayaka was frowning and Homura had resumed her carefully manicured inscrutable look. "Okay, but... what did that word mean?"

It was painfully silent. Madoka stood up. "Fine," she said, heading to her incredibly powerful computer, which turned on immediately. She began running her hands across the touch screen that functioned as her keyboard. Sayaka looked on in envy; her computer was a hand-me-down almost four years old. It barely had the processing power to use the school's new software, and took forever to start up. Like, two freaking minutes!

Then she realized what her friend was doing.

Madoka was a middling student, in part due to the visual nature of her learning style. Sitting in class, having someone expertly but dryly lecture about complex algorithms or obscure and contrary grammatical rules was not how she absorbed information. She needed to see, to feel what was going on.

Which is why, when she googolplex-ed something, she always hit Images first.

"OH MY GOD! NO!"

"Madoka!" Sayaka cried, far, far too late in reaching the girl. She couldn't help but glance at the images that had so shocked the pinkette, hastily covering the girl's eyes with a hand. "WHAT WAS THAT?" the smaller girl was crying, "WHAT DID I JUST SEE?!" The brief glance was enough to set the blunette's cheeks on fire, some of the images rekindling memories of recent deeds, mostly due to the whole nudity aspect. She fumbled around the desk top, hastily closing the images.

Kyoko approached sheepishly, having realized what the girl was doing but never imagining she'd do more than read the urban dictionary entry or something. Sayaka stood, patting her friend awkwardly on the shoulder as she stared at the red-head expectantly. Kyoko understood exactly what she was saying, even without telepathic communication: You made this mess, this time you clean it up.

Homura, thinking that the situation would occupy everyone for several minutes at least, slipped out of the room with only the slightest twinge of regret.

Kyoko would never, ever speak of the events that transpired that night. Sayaka whole-heartedly agreed to never mention the incident, and Homura had apparently disappeared before it had happened. Madoka, of course, had to pretend it never happened, and with her friends' silent support, she remained fairly successful.

When Homura returned, she saw that everything was in order. Also, from the lack of looks she was getting, she hadn't really been missed. The thought gave her pause; part of her was a little sad at the distance she felt between herself and these girls. But it was a small part, and much less insistent that the nervously excited feeling that had dominated her thoughts recently.

"Homura-chan!" Madoka called brightly, the incident already fading in the warm glow of friendship. And so it would remain, at least until the lights went out. "Are you ready?" She was very excited at the prospect of sharing secrets with any of these girls, mostly because her own were fairly tame, and the others' were sometimes so exciting they made her feel funny, in a good way. Especially the one's about kissing.

Sayaka spun the bottle that Kyoko had provided, producing it suspiciously quickly when they'd wondered how to pick... partners. Sayaka had a vague, uneasy feeling of being alone in a dark closet with any of these girls, except maybe Madoka. But, she wasn't about to ruin her girlfriend's game. More than anything, she was feeling extremely pleased that Kyoko was contributing and participating.

And then, as she spun the bottle, she saw the hungry intensity of the red-head's crimson eyes, focused on her with such ferocious attention that she couldn't help but blush and grow extremely worried about her girlfriend's master plan with this game, and where exactly she fit in it.

The blunette was almost, almost relieved when it stopped pointing to someone else. She heard Kyoko grunt sourly, obviously disappointed.

"Walpurgisnacht is approaching. I'd like to start over, Miki-san. Sayaka-chan. I have tried to kill you twice, and left you to die another. It will not happen again. I can assume you won't believe me, but my intentions were... good. You are a danger to those around you. Especially Madoka."

Sayaka wondered how she knew. "Don't you think I don't know that? That I don't constantly think about? But, you're wrong, there is no destiny. Kyoko's the one who is right. We make our own fates."

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself. Fine. Just realize, that if you should Fall..."

"All I ask is that you want until that happens. If it does, you have my blessing to end whatever remains of my existence. I hope, for your sake, I'm easy. Better you than Kyoko." The last was barely a whisper.

Homura paused. "Kyoko has..." Not the best way to start. "I've been warned not to... interfere. On pain of death," she added. "Someone has taken that duty upon herself."

Kyoko. That was so like her. The blunette felt herself getting misty-eyed. "Well, if you're in a position to help, please do. She shouldn't have to do it, she's suffered enough. And maybe... maybe if she's mad enough at you, she won't have time to think about me."

Such arrogance. Homura was astounded. "You really think you... matter, so much, Sayaka-chan? That you have such a profound effect upon Sakura Kyoko's life?" She imagined the blunette frowning thoughtfully with that stupid look of hers.

"Yes." The simple confidence of the other girl infuriated Homura. What right did she have, to think that she mattered, that someone felt something for her... "It's called liking someone who likes you back. You should try it sometime."

I am! Homura realized in amazement. That's exactly what I'm doing!

Maybe they weren't quite so different, after all. We are, both of us, cursed...

Madoka had spun the bottle, which had lazily spun around once. She looked sheepishly around at the other girls, dismayed at her performance, but Sayaka shrugged good-naturedly and stood up.

Kyoko noticed Madoka wearing a pained expression, beads of sweat visible on her forehead, and peered at the pinkette closely. "You didn't eat a pocket full of Poifull jelly beans, three bars of cherry blossom Kit Kat, half a bag of Wasabeef chips and two bottles of Papico milkshake, did you?"

Madoka blinked, her nervousness forgotten. "Ehhh? No? Why?"

"You look like how I felt, when I got here," the red-head explained. "Knock her dead, tiger, but save some for me," she finished, mystifying the pinkette with a light tap to the shoulder.

"Okay, okay. Secrets. Hmmm. Let's see... Oh Sayaka-chan, I can't stand it anymore, I have to tell you. I have... feelings, for someone. I know... I know this person is special to you, and I don't... I don't want to do anything to hurt our friendship. But... it's eating me up inside," and the tears were back.

Sayaka, concerned and a little frightened, reaching out into the darkness. "Hey, Madoka-chan, what's wrong? You can tell me."

"What's w-wrong? I'll t-tell you wh-what's wrong!" the pinkette sobbed. "The person I love already has a girlfriend: my best friend!" She hugged Sayaka even tighter, causing the blunette to get anxious even as her amazing statement began to penetrate a suddenly blank mind.

"What?" Sayaka asked, profoundly confused, pulling back from the potentially rib-cracking embrace. "You... and... Kyoko?"

"K-KYOKO?!" Madoka sputtered, feeling the other girl try to pull away, leaving her all alone. "What? How could you... why do you think... what? Kyoko-chan?" Sayaka felt the pigtails whips across her face as the girl shook her head violently. "Oh no, Kyoko-chan, she's your's Sayaka-chan! And, honestly," the girl added quietly, "she scares me a little."

"She's not as scary as Homura-chan," Sayaka stated dourly. Despite her words, Madoka's unseen smile spread right across her face. Sayaka-chan was getting closer to Homura-chan! They were going to be friends, I just know it!

What she said, though, was "Well, I don't like her either, so I guess I don't like scary people. Not in that way," she amended. "I like being their friend. But only people that aren't scary can be my best friend! Like you and Hitomi."

Sayaka had begun to process what the pinkette was telling her. Although irrelevant to the revelation, the blunette couldn't help thinking that Hitomi could be pretty scary; she'd seen it. "Wait a sec. You're saying... the person you like is..." Raising her eyebrows expectantly, Sayaka felt the other girl should be the one to say it. Just in case it came out accusatory. Or something.

"Kamijo-kun." Madoka whispered, looking at the floor. Then she looked up, blinking furiously. "I'm in love with Kyousuke-kun!" she declared boldly, clamping down on the waves of roiling sickness that threatened to overwhelm her insides. She wished she could see her friend's face. What was she thinking? Does she hate me? The silence was killing her!

Sayaka was trying not to giggle. Madoka, in love. With a boy she's exchanged about a dozen words with in the last year. It was just too cute. "M-Madoka, I can t-tell you're serious," she tried unsuccessfully to keep her amusement out of her voice, but the pinkette was amazed by the comforting support she thought she heard. "But... you never once mentioned..." Oh.

"Well of course not, Sayaka-chan," Madoka began, as if stating the most obvious thing in the world. Which it kind of was. "You were all... moon-eyed over him, and refused to admit it, even to yourself! I saw the way you stared at other girls who talked to him." She let out a sigh. "Besides, he hardly noticed me. Just the short, pink-haired friend of one of his closest friends. I don't think he even knows my name," she finished woefully. Sayaka could almost hear the pout on her face through the words.

"Sure he does," Sayaka began, trying to console her friend, but when she thought about it, Kyousuke had always called her "your friend," or sometimes "that pinkette." Hmm. "I bet he knows it, you're too cute not to notice," she said, trying to pinch one of Madoka's cheeks blindly in the dark.

It was silent for a moment. "Um, please don't do that again," Madoka said in a slightly shaky voice. Sayaka made an apologetic noise. "I've liked him as long as I've known him, Sayaka-chan. He's so warm, and delicate. Like a little bird, with that amazing abilty to make incredible music... He's just... perfect!" The pinkette exclaimed, getting into her thought process. "He's so gentle, and always polite and kind. I know he can be a little, ah, preoccupied, but sometimes genuises have strokes like that." Sayaka blinked. "That's why they call it a stroke of genius," Madoka explained patiently. And, even though I couldn't bear the thought of visiting him, I found ways... remember how I was always 'borrowing' you money for those CDs you bought him?"

"Hey! I'm going to pay it back," Sayaka stated determinedly, but felt bad. She hadn't even thought to repay the girl for months. "All those times... You... you never visited him in the hospital."

"No! It was torture, to see the way you looked at him, and how happy he was around you. I mean, I thought at some point, you'd have, well, made a move or something? But... all through last year, when you guys would hang out, I'd end up being the third wheel. That one time, you even ditched me!"

"No, we didn't," Sayaka began tiredly. It was an old grievance. "His dad called, and I was the only-"

"It doesn't matter," Madoka interrupted, realizing that if that was true she wouldn't have brought it up.

"We left a note..."

Oh yeah. The note. All Madoka knew was that she never found any supposed note on the day in question. "Whatever. What does matter is that I couldn't stand it, sometimes, Sayaka-chan. I'm sorry, but... I can't help the way I feel. I've tried, but..."

The more Sayaka thought about the idea, the more it seemed to make a certain kind of sense. They're both, well, delicate, I guess, she thought to herself. Kyousuke-kun is definitely gentle enough for Madoka-chan, and she's patient and good-natured enough for his, ah... obliviousness? That sounded right.

He was a good guy, she reflected fondly. But, after her incredible disappointment after his release from the hospital, coupled with recent exposure to a certain wild red-headed menace, she doubted she could go back to someone so... docile. There was something about Kyoko's unpredictability, her raw power, that was-

"Oh please don't be mad at me, Sayaka-chan!" Madoka begged into the darkness, reaching out for her friend. Her fingers touched something, and then Sayaka was clasping it firmly.

"I'm not mad, Madoka-chan, not at all." And it was true. There was this lingering nest of vipers that seemed to stir within her every time she thought about Hitomi and the grey-haired boy she'd spent so long pining after. But not the pinkette. "The thing is, you're talking to the wrong friend."

Madoka gasped. "Oh, what am I going to do? I can't tell the person I really want to, can I? I can't betray Hitomi-chan, that's what it would be... even though she's been, well..." She broke off, hesitant to speak ill of her friend.

"She's been what, Madoka-chan?" Sayaka pressed. She knew the girl wanted to tell her something, and just needed a little encouragement.

"Well, she's been... pretty... bossy. She's always, um, making him sit alone with her, or with some of the other popular girls at lunch. She just, kind of, bosses him around. I can tell that he doesn't like it, right? Who would? We both know how bossy Hitomi-chan can be, and how she sometimes needs to, you know, get her way."

Sayaka's eyes narrowed dangerously in the dark of the closet. So, that's how it is, Hitomi? That's how it's going to be? She trusted her pink-haired friend's judgement implicitly, not that she needed much of a reason to feel like lashing out at the girl. Which wasn't entirely fair, to be sure, but... I bet Kyoko would kick her ass all over the block, if she were me, Sayaka considered. After indulging in some shockingly violent daydreaming, she shook herself back to reality. Completely uncalled for, she admonished herself.

But still, if her old friend was crushing the spirit of Kamijo Kyousuke, Sayaka vowed to do something about it. In the name of justice. And if her friend happened to benefit from what would happen, so much the better.

"Madoka-chan," the blunette began thoughtfully, "what would you think about..."

It was Homura's turn to spin the bottle, which she did with her usual finesse. The empty glass seemed almost to skip as it spun, around and around, slowly coming to a stop on:

Madoka stood up again. Twice in a row! She wanted to talk with the transfer student alone, anyway. Homura, looking uncomfortable, shot Kyoko a withering glance before shutting the door, encasing the girls in darkness.

"Okay, my secret is, I've got a crush on Kyousuke-kun!" Madoka stated forcefully, hoping to get her point across. She heard Homura gasp in the darkness. Uh oh. "Homura-chan?" she asked, hesitantly awaiting an explosion.

At first she thought the girl was having some kind of fit; reaching out, she felt her body shaking. But the strange noises were actually laughter. "Madoka-chan, I'm so happy for you," she gasped, the faintest note of hysteria failing to penetrate the pinkette's shock.

"Oh, okay," Madoka said, vaguely disappointed. "Good."

"Hell yeah! My turn, finally," Kyoko smirked, glancing at Sayaka sitting across from her. She knew, with absolute certainty, that she could get the bottle to stop facing directly away from her. She'd practiced all afternoon, at least when she hadn't been following Sayaka or beating Homura's ass on a rooftop. She expertly spun the bottle perfectly, it being the exact same one she'd practiced on earlier. It spun and spun, nothing showy like Homura, but she didn't want to risk-

The bottle stopped. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Madoka stood up, a bewildered smile on her face, tactfully ignoring the older girl's language. Sure, it was Kyoko-chan, who was a little scary, but she wanted to be her friend, and what better way than to share secrets! And she had one she was dying to tell!

"Okay, my secret is, I've got a crush on Kyousuke-kun!" Madoka declared proudly. Kyoko grunted.

"That little girl Sayaka dumped?" she loyally re-interpreted.

This game sucks.

Let me know your thoughts, as always. Especially if this chapter was, i guess, believable.

Oh my, all those marvelous, titillating responses... I loved reading them so very much. I hope you don't feel jerked around, and my apologies to anyone hoping for a Kyodoka entanglement. The relationship mapping was hilarious Princess, and ABBYGABY you're so right about several things. Broadway I adored what you had to say, and hope the love meter has at least outpaced the hate meter by a little bit. Shadow, as always I appreciate those insightful comments. I didn't realize it, but the voice in my head as Madoka was saying what she'd do to Sayaka's cat was totally that abominable snowman! One of those strange, quasi-memories i guess.

Everyone who expressed outrage or shock; I thank you so much! Insanely gratifying. And to those who guessed Kyousuke, congrats! I hope it was worth your emotions being played with. I wrote this as if possessed, because I was so excited to share... even though I should have strung it out another 8 chapters or so.