Mitakihara Middle School let out relatively early, leaving students plenty of free time after classes. That made clubs more valued here than at most schools—though Madoka was a proud member of the Go-Home Club.
That said, Tomohisa's standing rule was to be home by dinner, and the dusk sky was already deepening.
She took a bite of pink ice cream that matched her hair, then glanced at Homura. Remembering the bold "lovers" declaration from earlier, she grew shy and turned her face away, giving Homura nothing to see but the crimson tips of her ears.
No doubt about it—Madoka definitely trusted her more now.
From an angle Madoka couldn't see, Homura's eyes darted left and right before finally settling.
The other Magical Girls in Mitakihara hadn't been corrupted, and one of them had even been powered up. Maybe together they could actually take on Walpurgisnacht—and now Madoka trusted her this much...
Homura quietly clenched her fist.
Whatever it took, she had to maintain the status quo in this timeline and push through! No more restarting!
"Homura-chan." Madoka called from ahead.
"Yes." Homura stopped in place.
"What's with the 'yes'...? Ever since I said all that earlier, you've been acting kind of weird. You don't have to accommodate me just to save my feelings, okay?"
"I'm not. It's just habit." Homura quickly lowered her voice and made up an excuse, nearly breaking her usual cool front and slipping back into the soft, timid tone she used to have.
It wasn't entirely made up—in the first few timelines, she really had reacted that way whenever someone suddenly spoke to her. But responding to Madoka like this was certainly rare.
"Habit...? Was I some kind of strict person after I became a Magical Girl?" Madoka turned around, worried, and took hold of Homura's hand.
"Not strict. Just..." Homura looked down at Madoka's hands.
"Just?"
Homura's eyes tried to dart away again, but she forced them back to meet Madoka's, doing her best not to let the guilt show through.
Her voice was still small. "Before, when we walked together, we always held hands."
"Really? I'm sorry, I don't remember any of it." Madoka felt a pang of guilt, shifting to walk beside her and lacing their fingers together.
Having someone precious forget you again and again—it must be so painful for Homura.
Holding hands between girls was perfectly normal, really. But the different context made it hard to look at her without getting flustered.
And Madoka had no idea how far the previous-timeline version of herself and Homura had gotten. Like, had they k... kissed?
She gazed at the storefronts lining the road. "I don't have any memories, but can we start over, like before?"
Her guilt only made Homura feel a twinge of shame in return.
Regardless—this was all to make Madoka trust her more.
And she would bring this timeline to a satisfying end!
"Also, if possible, I'd really like it if you could come clean with me. Is there still something you're hiding?" Madoka pressed a hand to her chest, a touch of sadness in her tone, her gaze drifting subtly toward Homura's lower back.
Back to this topic. Combined with the direction of Madoka's glance, Homura's posture stiffened slightly.
"Being a Magical Girl—is there really no way out?"
"That sort of thing..."
"Mm."
A small, curious hum from a little girl cut them off, and both instinctively pulled their hands apart in unison.
"Which one of you is afraid the other one will get lost?" In Yimi's experience, adults only held your hand when they were afraid you'd wander off.
"We're not afraid of getting lost! It's so late—why are you still out here running around with Xiaobai? Your mom and dad will worry." Madoka rubbed Yimi's head.
Xiaobai?
Homura looked down at the robot vacuum that kept butting against her shins.
"It likes you." Yimi pointed at Homura, then produced the meat floss bread she'd spent hours making under Mami's tutelage. "So I'm treating you to some bread."
She turned her big, watery eyes up at Homura—an expression lethal to ninety percent of all girls—but it had zero effect on Homura.
Because the bread had no packaging whatsoever. The surface had no decoration and the shape was vaguely lopsided. This was obviously homemade.
The moment Homura thought about what kind of meat might be hiding inside, a wave of unease washed over her.
"Thanks, but you eat it yourself." Homura politely declined.
"I made it for you though. I made it with my own hands."
"You eat it yourself..."
"Just one bite?" The ears beneath the little cat's hat drooped, her expression turning pitifully sad.
"Homura-chan?" Madoka reached over and took Homura's hand again.
The soft, boneless warmth of Madoka's touch settled Homura's nerves a fraction—but then she saw Madoka's face, plainly confused and uncomprehending, because Madoka had no idea about this little gremlin's true culinary horrors.
"My stomach's not feeling great." Homura held the line.
"Oh, that's too bad. Then can I try it for you?" Madoka looked down at Yimi.
"Mm..." Yimi handed her the bread. She'd really wanted a Magical Girl to eat it, but Madoka had taken care of her for days. She wouldn't say no.
"Madoka!" Homura tried to stop her, but it was too late.
"Mm, it tastes pretty good! Did your dad teach you how to make it?" Madoka bent down to encourage Yimi.
The bread itself was fine, honestly, but the meat floss on top had a not-quite-fresh quality to it, like it had sat out for a week. But you couldn't hold a child to professional standards.
"It was the Yellow Person!"
"Oh, Mami-senpai. You know, it feels like Yimi's always hanging out with people way older than her. But you really can't call someone the 'Yellow Person'—"
Before she could finish, Homura grabbed Madoka's wrist with dead seriousness and examined the bitten section of the bread, searching for any suspicious meat inside. But no matter how closely she looked, all she found was fluffy white bread with fruit jam filling.
Since when was this little gremlin capable of being harmless?
"H-Homura-chan... do you want to try some too?"
Madoka's interruption snapped Homura back to reality—she'd been staring at the exact spot Madoka had just bitten this entire time...
"N-no... it's nothing..." Homura looked away for what felt like the hundredth time today.
...
...
The Black One was absolutely impervious. Maybe it was time to consider turning Xiaobai into a Magical Girl.
Yimi trudged along gloomily, tugging the robot vacuum's leash, heading back toward the Kaname residence. She pulled up her quest panel for a look.
Zero progress.
Based on Kyoko's previous evaluation, it clearly wasn't a matter of needing the exact words "absolutely delicious"—but Madoka wasn't a Magical Girl, so her rating simply didn't count.
Then, after Yimi had walked a good distance, the quest progress ticked up right before her eyes—from 1/5 to 2/5.
"Mew?"
The little cat tilted her head, completely baffled.
Had the Black One eaten it after all? But she'd only left one bread behind, and Madoka had already bitten into it.
Whatever—good news was good news.
♪(^∇^*)