"Here, eat."
Yimi clumsily peeled an apple with a safety peeler, letting the peel drop to the floor.
Bzzzzz—
A robot vacuum—noticeably louder than the one at Homura Akemi's house—sensed the mess and trundled over, sucking up the discarded peel.
"What's going on? Didn't you say that model was terrible?" Junko looked at her husband, puzzled.
The thing was defective, and an old model at that. Dumb enough to mistake a person's foot for garbage.
"Shh." Tomohisa raised a finger to his lips, smiling as he watched the little cat. "I don't know what happened, but the moment she got home she asked me if we had one of these. I dug it out of the storeroom and gave it to her."
She seemed to be raising the thing like a pet. She'd even named the robot Xiaobai—Little White. Quite entertaining, honestly.
As the couple watched, the dumb machine mistook Yimi's shoes for garbage and began nudging her toes—but the little cat thought it was being affectionate, so she crouched down and patted its head.
Its head, presumably.
"Ahh... for a child, the whole world is full of wonders. It's a shame that in the end we all have to grow up into boring adults like us."
Tomohisa poked his wife's forehead with one finger. "If they couldn't grow up properly into adults, that would be the real problem."
"Mama, can you come here for a second?" Madoka stood at her half-open bedroom door, beckoning to Junko with the look of someone wanting a heart-to-heart.
No helping it—teenage girl talk was not something Tomohisa could participate in.
Junko never refused when her daughter came to her. She walked slowly into Madoka's room and closed the door.
"What is it? Have you suddenly developed a crush on a boy?"
Madoka usually shared all sorts of things about school—like Kazuko-sensei complaining about not finding a decent boyfriend, or Hitomi receiving yet another batch of love letters.
"Or is it something between friends again?" Junko settled naturally onto her daughter's bed.
"This time it might actually be about romance." Madoka kept her head down, fidgeting shyly, twisting a strand of hair around her finger.
She hadn't told anyone about the situation between Sayaka and Hitomi. That wasn't the kind of thing talking to her mother would solve, and besides, Sayaka seemed to have come out of it on her own after moping for a day—probably because she'd made a new friend.
If only Sayaka truly hadn't made that sacrifice.
"Huh?" Surprised, Junko ruffled her daughter's hair. "Which lucky fool is it?"
"It's not some fool, it's just..." Madoka pressed her index fingers together, not entirely sure herself.
"Oh, so there really is someone? You're already jumping to their defense?"
"That's not it..."
It had come through Yimi relaying the message, but Homura clearly knew other people before meeting her—Madoka had noticed Homura watching Sayaka during class with an inexplicable intensity.
This wasn't just wishful thinking, though. Madoka could genuinely feel that even when Sayaka was present, Homura's gaze lingered on her more.
Add to that the word "restart," the dream she'd had about Homura, and the clue Yimi had dropped—no matter how innocent a teenage girl might be, it was hard not to start drawing certain connections.
It left her more conflicted than ever. "Mama, if I started dating a girl, how would you see me?"
"Hmm?"
Junko removed her hands from her lap and tapped her chin, thinking for a few seconds. "The thing is, rather than worrying about how Mama would see you, what you should really be concerned about is how her parents feel—or how she herself feels about it. Are you falling for someone who happens to be a girl, or do you just like girls in general?"
Those were fundamentally different things. People often assumed that if one girl liked girls and another girl also liked girls, they'd naturally end up together. But even between men and women there were still personal standards and preferences.
"It's not that I like girls in general." Madoka wasn't quite sure.
"I don't know what happened, but for this girl to have you thinking like this, she must be really cool, huh? So—does she know about it?"
That was surprisingly calm...
"Probably... maybe..." Madoka wasn't really sure about that either.
She didn't have many memories of Homura Akemi, and she couldn't confirm things were the way she imagined. All she knew was that from the very first glance, she'd felt an inexplicable fondness—though she truly hadn't thought of it that way.
What weighed on her more was this: what kind of resolve had driven Homura to restart?
She couldn't ignore that, because whatever Homura was carrying might be even heavier than she imagined.
Had the original version of herself paid that price—becoming a Magical Girl, only to sacrifice herself in the end, forcing Homura to restart just to save her?
No—the final sacrifice might not even be the key part. Homura had been telling her from the start not to become a Magical Girl. Maybe she simply didn't want Madoka trapped in that kind of cost. And then there was the thing about having a normal love life...
Compared to romance, what she really cared about was what that girl was carrying. But she couldn't exactly explain all of that to her mother.
She should just find an opportunity to talk openly with Homura. Someone had been doing all these things for her sake while she sat in the dark knowing nothing. That feeling was truly unbearable.
"Romance is a two-way street, you know." Junko patted her head. "If the other person agrees to be with you, then it's a real relationship."
"If this is your own choice and you've already thought about the various things you might face down the road, Mama and Papa are both fine with it. But before all that, you really should ask her how she feels first."
She pinched her daughter's cheek.
Mama was always this warm.
"Let me guess—it's not Sayaka, right? That girl's got such a cool hairstyle. Or is it Hitomi? Come to think of it, Hitomi's been turning down every confession. If it's her, that'd be tough—her family is very strict..."
"It's not them!"
"There's actually someone else? Wait—could it be that girl Yimi gets along with so well?" Junko clapped a hand over her mouth in surprise.
Since Yimi had gone to find Homura Akemi on her own today and Homura had even walked her back, the natural conclusion was that they were close.
"That expression—seems like I hit the mark."
"I said I'm not even sure yet..."
...
...
The weekend ended.
Mitakihara Middle School. The rooftop.
With so many places around Mitakihara Middle School to relax and catch some fresh air, the rooftop was usually empty during lunch except for Madoka and Sayaka.
But today Sayaka had apologized, grabbed a second bento, and headed out of school—something about taking responsibility or whatever.
Which conveniently left Madoka and Homura with space to talk.
"Homura-chan, I already know everything."
"Know what?" Homura looked down, mentally calculating dates, her heart lurching.
Don't tell me that loudmouthed blueberry told Madoka about Walpurgisnacht? No—even if Sayaka hadn't, Kyubey probably wouldn't pass up the chance to stir things up.
"This isn't the first time you've met me, is it?" Madoka said it outright.
Something as unbelievable as science fiction, but if wishes that come true existed, this wasn't any more far-fetched.
"Did Kyubey tell you?" Homura's hands paused slightly as she was opening her bento.
Madoka shook her head gently. "No wonder I sometimes look at you and get this feeling that you're so sad. I don't know what happened, but it must have been really hard—starting over when nobody understands you."
She was still that kind.
Why did she know? They were less than two weeks away. If they could just get past Walpurgisnacht, Homura would finally reach a happy ending.
She'd held it all in over the weekend. Why did Madoka have to find out now?
And why did it have to come at this exact moment—right when she'd resolved to stop being weak?
The pent-up frustration and hurt stirred something deep inside her, and Homura nearly lost the battle with her tear ducts.
She was still that fragile fourteen-year-old introvert. She only ever showed her true self to Madoka.
"Madoka... no, this has nothing to do with you." She wrestled herself back under control, her expression hardening back into its cold mask. "Kaname Madoka, not knowing anything is the best outcome for you."
"How can it have nothing to do with me? You've made it pretty obvious." Madoka stood up and turned her face away. "Then before you're ready to open up to me—can I ask one question about the previous me?"
"..." Unsure whether to respond, Homura kept her head down.
Madoka looked away, embarrassed. "What was the relationship between the old me and you? It couldn't be... lovers... right?"
The last part came out barely above a whisper, but with no one else on the rooftop, Homura heard it perfectly.
Her hands froze over the bento box. Her brain crashed and rebooted several times before she could process it.
Weren't we talking about Walpurgisnacht?
Eventually the color crept from her face all the way to the tips of her ears, and she dropped her gaze away from Madoka.
"I'm sorry, I was being ridiculous!" Madoka's face flushed scarlet as she noticed the reaction, bowing repeatedly in apology. "That was so weird to say—please don't think I'm that kind of person..."
"We were lovers." Homura suddenly looked up, dead serious.
"Huh?"
"We were lovers." She even said it twice.
She didn't know what had just happened, but she'd roll with it for now.
This was all to make Madoka trust her more.