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lirillithTitle: Waifs and Strays
Fandom: Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Characters: Mami/Kyoko
Length: 1,969 words
Rating: PG?
Notes: And my stalking ofelwing_alcyone's PMMM prompts continues.
Edited to add the spoiler note: Set within the episode 12 final timeline.
****
Mami had known about Sakura Kyoko for nearly a year. She'd heard about the family suicide even before she became Puella Magi. Once she'd contracted with Kyubey she encountered Kyoko on a witch hunt. They'd had the occasional friendly meeting; Mami would treat Kyoko at a bakery and they'd find a bench and eat their pastries. They talked about their wishes. They talked about living alone. But when they tried to collaborate against demons they just ended up arguing, instead, over who got credit, or how either of them might have done alone. It was easier just to stay out of each others' way.
But where Mami and Kyoko had been content to steer clear of each other, something about Sayaka clearly rubbed Kyoko the wrong way, and suddenly Mami and Homura and Kyoko and Sayaka kept crossing paths. By the time Sayaka disappeared - died, you might as well say, Puella Magi who disappeared that way never came back - Kyoko had come to see Sayaka as a friend, it seemed, and the three of them stood in the train station, the only ones who'd ever understand what had just happened. Mami felt stunned, and sad. She knew these things happened, but she'd never experienced it like this, and though she didn't know Sayaka well, they'd become friends. Kyoko seemed angry. She'd been the closest of them to Sayaka. And Homura, inexplicably, spoke an unfamiliar name and burst into tears.
Homura, still weeping and unwilling to talk, finally ran from the station without transforming back to her uniform. After she was gone, Kyoko and Mami exchanged glances and made their own changes, walking together by silent agreement.
"So you don't know who Madoka is either?" Kyoko asked her.
"No."
They walked in silence for a few more steps. Perhaps she'd been too blunt. "Akemi-san seems to be very experienced. I can tell she's been a Puella Magi for some time. Perhaps Madoka was a friend she lost in Tokyo."
"Probably," Kyoko agreed, sounding subdued. Mami glanced to her side. To her, Sayaka's death didn't seem real yet. She was familiar with that feeling, and with the way it would slowly become more real over time. She hadn't known Kyoko when dealing with loss, before, so she didn't know how the other girl would take it. And Kyoko had been closer to Sayaka than she had been.
"I'll leave you alone, I guess," Kyoko said, finally. "Dunno why I'm walking with you."
"For company?" Mami suggested. That merited a noncommittal grunt. She wanted Kyoko to have company, right now, but she didn't want to drive her away. She might just need a presence, not conversation. Or she might genuinely want solitude. Finally, though, she couldn't resist the question. "Sakura-san, where do you sleep?"
She stopped and turned in time to see the shrug. "Wherever. What's it to you?"
"I was just curious. I've never had to make my own way like you do."
The touch of flattery seemed to help. "Hotel rooms, when I've got the cash. Sometimes I go back to the church. There are parts of it that keep the weather out."
"There's plenty of room at my place." Kyoko needed a place to stay, after all, especially at a time like this. It certainly wasn't that Mami was lonely, with Kyubey in residence on Homura's shoulder nine nights out of ten.
Mami was obviously lonely. Kyoko was just doing her a favor, going home with her. She could fend for herself just fine, and it wasn't like she was going to cry or anything; she'd lived through worse than this. But she knew Mami's story, and she'd always pictured the girl living in the same apartment she shared with her parents, untouched from the way it had been when they were alive, like a museum. So she was a little surprised when Mami flipped on the light and she saw a cheerful room bedecked with plants. And throw pillows. Lots of those. Sure, it could be the way her mom decorated, but it looked distinctly youthful to her. It was confirmed when Mami starts putting sheets on a bare bed.
"I didn't think you'd have a guest room."
"In a way I don't. I moved into the room that used to belong to my parents. This used to be mine."
Yeah, that fit; a teddy bear on the desk, manga on the bookshelves, a girl-sized jacket draped over a chair. Things she didn't use all the time, left behind. "Huh," was all she said.
"You can stay here as long as you like."
"We'll see how long that'll be."
It would be at least that one night. She curled in on herself, pulling the covers in around her like a nest, whimpering to herself, "Sayaka, you idiot. Why?"
Mami tried not to bother Kyoko much. They did their patrols separately, and as she learned, Kyoko was virtually nocturnal, patrolling all night, then coming home near dawn. The first night, Kyoko borrowed her key near sundown. Mami expected her to return late that night; she was awakened in pre-dawn twilight by the sound of the front door. After that, she barely noticed her guest's nighttime comings and goings. She'd serve up meals for two, and refrigerate the leftovers if Kyoko didn't happen to be home for dinner. She was sure Kyoko was grieving, and equally sure she wanted to do so in some privacy.
But she was pleased to see her stay for more than a week, and when Kyoko failed to return on the eighth day, she tried not to worry. Most likely Kyoko was just asserting her independence, staying away. But she felt a twinge of relief when she finally did spot her, in an arcade. She didn't call out. Kyoko had probably sensed her presence, like she'd sensed Kyoko's even before she'd seen her. Two weeks later, near midnight, Kyoko turned up on her doorstep, holding a grocery bag. "Figured I shouldn't keep eating your food," she mumbled, not making eye contact.
"I'll go put clean sheets on your bed," she said.
"Don't you mean the guest bed?"
"Do you think I have guests often?" she called back, teasing.
The grocery bag turned out to contain mostly junk food. She ate a few sticks of Pocky, to be polite, but left the rest of it for Kyoko. It was a Tuesday, and she had school the next day, so she excused herself soon. "You're welcome to stay, of course," she said to Kyoko before she went to her own room. "And you know where I leave my keys. I just need them back before school."
"Gotcha," the other girl agreed. In her room, she heard the TV come on, and then heard the volume hastily lowered. She smiled to herself as she checked her alarm clock. She remembered the stray cat she'd tried to befriend, years ago. At first, it wouldn't let her come near, but eventually it let her closer, even consented to have its ears rubbed. If she was late to the park to refill its food dish, it would be waiting, and would greet her with irritable cries. Finally, after weeks, it had let her pick it up, read the tag on its collar, and call its owners.
But Kyoko didn't belong to anyone.
"Is it weird that I sometimes go back to my dad's old church?" Kyoko asked one night. They were both seated at the low, triangular table, munching on a castella cake Mami had baked the day before.
"I don't think so."
"Guess it's sort of like you moving into your parents' room," Kyoko continued, watching Mami covertly for her reaction.
"I suppose. At first it helped me feel closer to them, but then it started to bother me because it just reminded me that they were gone."
"Yeah, that is kind of like me going back there." She picked up the rest of her cake and took a bite of it. She just couldn't be as dainty as Mami. "Why the redecorating, though? This all looks like your idea."
"It is. It made it feel more like my own place, and less like... the apartment my parents don't live in anymore."
"So if I stayed here, like long-term," Kyoko began. Mami continued calmly nibbling at cake. "If I stayed here for a while, I could redo that room I'm in. My own way. Nothing like yours."
"Of course," Mami said placidly. "I'd encourage it, in fact. It only makes sense for your room to reflect who you are."
"I'll, um, keep it in mind." Kyoko took a large bite of cake, large enough that chewing it should keep her fully occupied. She didn't want to commit to anything. She did like having her freedom, and getting a complete change of scenery just by going to a new hotel. And having other people change the sheets and clean the toilets. She really liked that. But she couldn't help herself - around her mouthful of cake, she heard herself asking "I could hang stuff on the walls, right?"
The next time Kyoko came to stay, she brought a duffel bag of her belongings. Mami noted the toothbrush next to hers in the bathroom, the hairbrush sitting on the counter, the jacket tossed casually on the couch. She tried not to tidy things; she was fairly sure criticism would just drive her off. Kyoko stayed another week, until on Friday she got up, yawning hugely, at the same time Mami did.
"You're up early."
"Didn't want to--" she yawned again, "make you wonder what happened to me. I didn't know when you'd be back this evening, so I wanted to let you know I'm taking off again."
"All right. Would you like some coffee? Or tea?"
Another yawn. "I think I'm gonna sleep some more. I'll probably be out before you're home from school, though."
Mami wondered about that, but when she headed home - she wanted to drop off her bookbag before she went patrolling, checking to see if Kyoko was still there was incidental - the apartment did feel empty. Kyoko's duffel was gone from her room, though the bed had been made. Not very precisely, but it had. The toothbrush was still in the bathroom. She smiled as she locked the door behind her.
On Tuesday, Mami's cell phone rang. "Hey, Mami," Kyoko's voice said. "You need anything from the store? I'm picking up some snacks, so if there's anything you need I might as well get it while I'm there."
"If you buy some eggs I'll bake a cake," Mami said.
"Sure, sounds good. Just eggs?"
"I have everything else I'd need. Shall I pay you back, Sakura-san?"
"Just Kyoko's fine. Don't worry about it, I got plenty of money right now. You got a spare key or anything?"
"I'll get one if you'd like. I'll just make sure I'm at home to let you in." She was... two train stations away from home? No, three. "Thank you, Kyoko." It felt a bit daring, no honorifics or anything, but Kyoko didn't seem to notice.
"No problem. See ya then."
Once she had the key, Kyoko more or less accepted she was living with Mami now. She kept up a bit of the old tug-of-war, staying out all night sometimes, and resisting Mami's attempts to get her to hang up her jacket, re-enroll in school, or eat more vegetables. But she let herself be talked into sticking to Mami's budget, she stopped breaking into ATMs - she knew the source of her funds had been bothering Mami, though they never discussed it - and she did the dishes. She even let Mami help her shop for things for her new room. Hell, she was practically domesticated.
****
Fandom: Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Characters: Mami/Kyoko
Length: 1,969 words
Rating: PG?
Notes: And my stalking of
elwing_alcyone's PMMM prompts continues. Edited to add the spoiler note: Set within the episode 12 final timeline.
****
Mami had known about Sakura Kyoko for nearly a year. She'd heard about the family suicide even before she became Puella Magi. Once she'd contracted with Kyubey she encountered Kyoko on a witch hunt. They'd had the occasional friendly meeting; Mami would treat Kyoko at a bakery and they'd find a bench and eat their pastries. They talked about their wishes. They talked about living alone. But when they tried to collaborate against demons they just ended up arguing, instead, over who got credit, or how either of them might have done alone. It was easier just to stay out of each others' way.
But where Mami and Kyoko had been content to steer clear of each other, something about Sayaka clearly rubbed Kyoko the wrong way, and suddenly Mami and Homura and Kyoko and Sayaka kept crossing paths. By the time Sayaka disappeared - died, you might as well say, Puella Magi who disappeared that way never came back - Kyoko had come to see Sayaka as a friend, it seemed, and the three of them stood in the train station, the only ones who'd ever understand what had just happened. Mami felt stunned, and sad. She knew these things happened, but she'd never experienced it like this, and though she didn't know Sayaka well, they'd become friends. Kyoko seemed angry. She'd been the closest of them to Sayaka. And Homura, inexplicably, spoke an unfamiliar name and burst into tears.
Homura, still weeping and unwilling to talk, finally ran from the station without transforming back to her uniform. After she was gone, Kyoko and Mami exchanged glances and made their own changes, walking together by silent agreement.
"So you don't know who Madoka is either?" Kyoko asked her.
"No."
They walked in silence for a few more steps. Perhaps she'd been too blunt. "Akemi-san seems to be very experienced. I can tell she's been a Puella Magi for some time. Perhaps Madoka was a friend she lost in Tokyo."
"Probably," Kyoko agreed, sounding subdued. Mami glanced to her side. To her, Sayaka's death didn't seem real yet. She was familiar with that feeling, and with the way it would slowly become more real over time. She hadn't known Kyoko when dealing with loss, before, so she didn't know how the other girl would take it. And Kyoko had been closer to Sayaka than she had been.
"I'll leave you alone, I guess," Kyoko said, finally. "Dunno why I'm walking with you."
"For company?" Mami suggested. That merited a noncommittal grunt. She wanted Kyoko to have company, right now, but she didn't want to drive her away. She might just need a presence, not conversation. Or she might genuinely want solitude. Finally, though, she couldn't resist the question. "Sakura-san, where do you sleep?"
She stopped and turned in time to see the shrug. "Wherever. What's it to you?"
"I was just curious. I've never had to make my own way like you do."
The touch of flattery seemed to help. "Hotel rooms, when I've got the cash. Sometimes I go back to the church. There are parts of it that keep the weather out."
"There's plenty of room at my place." Kyoko needed a place to stay, after all, especially at a time like this. It certainly wasn't that Mami was lonely, with Kyubey in residence on Homura's shoulder nine nights out of ten.
Mami was obviously lonely. Kyoko was just doing her a favor, going home with her. She could fend for herself just fine, and it wasn't like she was going to cry or anything; she'd lived through worse than this. But she knew Mami's story, and she'd always pictured the girl living in the same apartment she shared with her parents, untouched from the way it had been when they were alive, like a museum. So she was a little surprised when Mami flipped on the light and she saw a cheerful room bedecked with plants. And throw pillows. Lots of those. Sure, it could be the way her mom decorated, but it looked distinctly youthful to her. It was confirmed when Mami starts putting sheets on a bare bed.
"I didn't think you'd have a guest room."
"In a way I don't. I moved into the room that used to belong to my parents. This used to be mine."
Yeah, that fit; a teddy bear on the desk, manga on the bookshelves, a girl-sized jacket draped over a chair. Things she didn't use all the time, left behind. "Huh," was all she said.
"You can stay here as long as you like."
"We'll see how long that'll be."
It would be at least that one night. She curled in on herself, pulling the covers in around her like a nest, whimpering to herself, "Sayaka, you idiot. Why?"
Mami tried not to bother Kyoko much. They did their patrols separately, and as she learned, Kyoko was virtually nocturnal, patrolling all night, then coming home near dawn. The first night, Kyoko borrowed her key near sundown. Mami expected her to return late that night; she was awakened in pre-dawn twilight by the sound of the front door. After that, she barely noticed her guest's nighttime comings and goings. She'd serve up meals for two, and refrigerate the leftovers if Kyoko didn't happen to be home for dinner. She was sure Kyoko was grieving, and equally sure she wanted to do so in some privacy.
But she was pleased to see her stay for more than a week, and when Kyoko failed to return on the eighth day, she tried not to worry. Most likely Kyoko was just asserting her independence, staying away. But she felt a twinge of relief when she finally did spot her, in an arcade. She didn't call out. Kyoko had probably sensed her presence, like she'd sensed Kyoko's even before she'd seen her. Two weeks later, near midnight, Kyoko turned up on her doorstep, holding a grocery bag. "Figured I shouldn't keep eating your food," she mumbled, not making eye contact.
"I'll go put clean sheets on your bed," she said.
"Don't you mean the guest bed?"
"Do you think I have guests often?" she called back, teasing.
The grocery bag turned out to contain mostly junk food. She ate a few sticks of Pocky, to be polite, but left the rest of it for Kyoko. It was a Tuesday, and she had school the next day, so she excused herself soon. "You're welcome to stay, of course," she said to Kyoko before she went to her own room. "And you know where I leave my keys. I just need them back before school."
"Gotcha," the other girl agreed. In her room, she heard the TV come on, and then heard the volume hastily lowered. She smiled to herself as she checked her alarm clock. She remembered the stray cat she'd tried to befriend, years ago. At first, it wouldn't let her come near, but eventually it let her closer, even consented to have its ears rubbed. If she was late to the park to refill its food dish, it would be waiting, and would greet her with irritable cries. Finally, after weeks, it had let her pick it up, read the tag on its collar, and call its owners.
But Kyoko didn't belong to anyone.
"Is it weird that I sometimes go back to my dad's old church?" Kyoko asked one night. They were both seated at the low, triangular table, munching on a castella cake Mami had baked the day before.
"I don't think so."
"Guess it's sort of like you moving into your parents' room," Kyoko continued, watching Mami covertly for her reaction.
"I suppose. At first it helped me feel closer to them, but then it started to bother me because it just reminded me that they were gone."
"Yeah, that is kind of like me going back there." She picked up the rest of her cake and took a bite of it. She just couldn't be as dainty as Mami. "Why the redecorating, though? This all looks like your idea."
"It is. It made it feel more like my own place, and less like... the apartment my parents don't live in anymore."
"So if I stayed here, like long-term," Kyoko began. Mami continued calmly nibbling at cake. "If I stayed here for a while, I could redo that room I'm in. My own way. Nothing like yours."
"Of course," Mami said placidly. "I'd encourage it, in fact. It only makes sense for your room to reflect who you are."
"I'll, um, keep it in mind." Kyoko took a large bite of cake, large enough that chewing it should keep her fully occupied. She didn't want to commit to anything. She did like having her freedom, and getting a complete change of scenery just by going to a new hotel. And having other people change the sheets and clean the toilets. She really liked that. But she couldn't help herself - around her mouthful of cake, she heard herself asking "I could hang stuff on the walls, right?"
The next time Kyoko came to stay, she brought a duffel bag of her belongings. Mami noted the toothbrush next to hers in the bathroom, the hairbrush sitting on the counter, the jacket tossed casually on the couch. She tried not to tidy things; she was fairly sure criticism would just drive her off. Kyoko stayed another week, until on Friday she got up, yawning hugely, at the same time Mami did.
"You're up early."
"Didn't want to--" she yawned again, "make you wonder what happened to me. I didn't know when you'd be back this evening, so I wanted to let you know I'm taking off again."
"All right. Would you like some coffee? Or tea?"
Another yawn. "I think I'm gonna sleep some more. I'll probably be out before you're home from school, though."
Mami wondered about that, but when she headed home - she wanted to drop off her bookbag before she went patrolling, checking to see if Kyoko was still there was incidental - the apartment did feel empty. Kyoko's duffel was gone from her room, though the bed had been made. Not very precisely, but it had. The toothbrush was still in the bathroom. She smiled as she locked the door behind her.
On Tuesday, Mami's cell phone rang. "Hey, Mami," Kyoko's voice said. "You need anything from the store? I'm picking up some snacks, so if there's anything you need I might as well get it while I'm there."
"If you buy some eggs I'll bake a cake," Mami said.
"Sure, sounds good. Just eggs?"
"I have everything else I'd need. Shall I pay you back, Sakura-san?"
"Just Kyoko's fine. Don't worry about it, I got plenty of money right now. You got a spare key or anything?"
"I'll get one if you'd like. I'll just make sure I'm at home to let you in." She was... two train stations away from home? No, three. "Thank you, Kyoko." It felt a bit daring, no honorifics or anything, but Kyoko didn't seem to notice.
"No problem. See ya then."
Once she had the key, Kyoko more or less accepted she was living with Mami now. She kept up a bit of the old tug-of-war, staying out all night sometimes, and resisting Mami's attempts to get her to hang up her jacket, re-enroll in school, or eat more vegetables. But she let herself be talked into sticking to Mami's budget, she stopped breaking into ATMs - she knew the source of her funds had been bothering Mami, though they never discussed it - and she did the dishes. She even let Mami help her shop for things for her new room. Hell, she was practically domesticated.
****
