Spider Lilies – The Law of Averages

Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Puella Magi Madoka Magica. All Madoka-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Studio SHAFT and Gen Urobuchi.

[-]

If there was one thing Madoka Kaname prided herself on, it was her perceptiveness.

It wasn't like there was too much else to be proud of, after all. She wasn't, she supposed, especially bad at most things. Her grades were fine. Her social skills were fine. Her athletic abilities, fine.

But she certainly didn't excel in any of those areas, either. If there was one word that described her better than any other, it was "average." She wasn't all that smart or good with people or skilled at sports. She didn't have any special talents or great, burning passions. Appearance-wise, puberty was giving way to a face and body that were almost exceedingly plain.

Not that Madoka resented these things; far from it. She'd long since made her peace with the fact that she wasn't ever going to amount to anything special. Most people didn't, after all; it was simply the law of averages.

The truly special wouldn't stand out if there wasn't a faceless crowd to contrast from.

Still, while her circle of friends was small – hooray for those distinctly mediocre social skills! – she liked to think she was pretty good at getting a read on everyone in it.

And right now, though she wasn't saying anything out loud, Madoka knew something was wrong with Homura Akemi.

Now there was someone who proved Madoka's mental image of "the truly special" existed beyond the realm of imagination. Ever since she'd joined the class, Homura had proven herself an ace at everything she tried, solving complex equations and breaking records in gym class like it was nothing.

It didn't hurt that she was indisputably gorgeous. Her long, raven-colored hair was so smooth and silky it almost sparkled, and her body was the tone, lithe one of a dancer or gymnast. Madoka had caught herself staring once or twice during P.E., simply because there was almost no way a fourteen year-old should have curves like those.

Despite all this, Homura wasn't really part of the "popular" crowd, but Madoka got the sense that was entirely by choice. Certainly, she had admirers – male and female. But as poor Nakazawa-kun had learned just last week, she didn't seem especially interested in engaging with them.

Inexplicably, the one and only exception to that generalized apathy seemed to be Madoka herself.

Sure, they'd gotten off to a bit of a…rocky start. That conversation on the way to the nurse's office had weirded Madoka out in ways she couldn't quite articulate, especially since that was their first meeting.

But in the time since, Homura hadn't broached the subject again, seemingly content to pretend it'd never happened. And Madoka was only too happy to oblige.

Because once she got past her cool and aloof exterior, Homura was…well, amazing. Not because of how smart she was, or how athletic, or how jaw-droppingly beautiful – true as all those were.

No, Homura was simply an incredible person. Hardworking, driven, and loyal. Bold and courageous, but not in the slightest bit egotistical. Clever and calm and collected, never tripping over her feet or her words the way Madoka always seemed to be.

More than anything else, she reminded the pink-haired girl of the dashing princes she'd read about in storybooks growing up, vanquishing dragons and rescuing damsels to be their brides.

Madoka flushed slightly as she realized what she'd just thought.

Regardless, despite the fact that they'd only known each other for a short time, Homura seemed determined to be Madoka's friend. She'd never really had very many of those; just Sayaka, Hitomi, and Kyosuke growing up. Things hadn't really changed much in middle school, much as she'd secretly hoped they would.

But now, here was the coolest girl in the entire school – someone who could have their pick of friends from pretty much any grade – who seemed to have eyes only for her.

Every day, Homura was tagging along with her, going out for ice cream after school and spending their weekends at the Kaname residence, playing video games or watching her dad's collection of old mecha shows.

Sometimes, they'd be with Sayaka and Hitomi, plus a transfer student from Kazamino City the Miki family had agreed to foster (Madoka felt guilty, as she kept forgetting the girl's name). But Sayaka and Homura seemed to share some kind of unspoken, unacknowledged antipathy, so those hangouts tended to end rather quickly.

So, increasingly, it'd been just the two of them. Walking to school, sitting together at lunch, calling and chatting and emailing so much her mom had sat her down last week for a frank discussion about the family data plan.

Speaking of which…

A chat notification popped up in the corner of Madoka's laptop. Glancing up at Saotome-sensei, who was currently embroiled in forcing Nakazawa-kun to conjugate the English verb "to cheat" into every conceivable tense, the pink-haired girl surreptitiously clicked the icon.

SpiderLily: There are no words to describe how tired I am of seeing this.

Mado-nyan: u no she use 2 b WORSE, mom has storys

SpiderLily: Having your leg eaten by a bear is significantly worse than it getting just your foot. That doesn't make the latter any more tolerable.

Madoka forced herself to stifle a giggle. Laptops during class were to be used solely for schoolwork, and while she knew she was hardly the only one flaunting that rule – she could see that Kazamino redhead's screen from here, and recognized the MMO she was playing without the slightest hint of shame – it was probably best not to draw attention to herself.

Still, Madoka reflected with a small smile, even this tiniest bit of rule-breaking was something she wouldn't have dreamed of doing a month ago. Homura had a rebellious spirit, one that seemed completely unconcerned with things like curfews or traffic laws, and the pink-haired girl couldn't help but be swept up in it from time to time.

Mado-nyan: wut u wanna do after scool

SpiderLily: Anything is fine with me. As long as you're happy.

Her smile dipped into an equally small frown. She got that kind of answer a lot.

Despite how much more forceful and assertive a personality Homura was, she deferred to Madoka on practically everything. What to do, where to eat, which movie to see – Madoka's preferences were her preferences, and Madoka's decisions were her decisions.

Mado-nyan: that fig sk8ers back form russia, press thingy tempel

Mado-nyan: yuri some thing?

Mado-nyan: any way sayaka n hitomi were gonna tak a look

Mado-nyan: …

Mado-nyan: i mean we dont have 2 if u dont wanna

SpiderLily: Sure. That sounds great.

Madoka stared at her screen, a bit stunned. Somehow, in a series of texts, they'd managed to perfectly reproduce their typical speaking dynamic: Madoka blurting out a string of undignified rambling, constantly putting her foot in her mouth, and Homura kindly interjecting with the utmost grace.

Mado-nyan: u sure? i mean…i no u n sayaka dont realy, uh

SpiderLily: I have no feelings one way or the other regarding Sayaka Miki. Her animosity toward me is her problem. But if going with her to this event will make you happy, then there's nothing I'd rather do tonight.

Mado-nyan: :)

Mado-nyan: youre the best homuchan

SpiderLily: …Homuchan?

Mado-nyan: o sorry! do u not like it? thought itd b a fun way 2 shorten it but i gess its petty stupid…

SpiderLily: No, no…I love it. Thank you, Madoka.

SpiderLily: At least you've finally gotten used to using my first name. Or…part of it.

That'd been an awkward adjustment. Even with a tomboy like Sayaka as her best friend, Madoka had never so quickly gotten onto first-name terms with another girl. But Homura had insisted, and Madoka was no better at saying "no" to the brunette than vice-versa.

Still, it was a pretty good symbol of their friendship. New and strange and moving so quickly…

But Madoka wouldn't give it up for the world.

Which was why she needed to bring this up.

Mado-nyan: so…

Mado-nyan: uh

SpiderLily: Yes?

Mado-nyan: it…um

Mado-nyan: it kinda feels liek

Mado-nyan: is anyting wrong homuchan?

Mado-nyan: if sum things bothring u

Mado-nyan: u can allways tell me

Homura took several minutes to craft her next response, Madoka watching on as the message "SpiderLily is typing a reply…" repeatedly appeared and disappeared across her screen. Meaning the other girl was deleting and then rewriting her words over and over.

Finally, however…

SpiderLily: It's nothing, really. If anything, perhaps I simply haven't been getting enough sleep lately. Proficiency tests are coming up, after all.

SpiderLily: Thank you for your concern, Madoka. But you don't need to worry about me. Let's just have a nice evening out.

Madoka stared at her screen, a little stunned. She wished she could believe the words in front of her; that she'd been mistaken all along, blowing things out of proportion.

But she didn't.

It might not have stuck out to most people, given the sheer poise and grace with which the raven-haired girl carried herself. But there was something else, something unreadable, in the smallest of her actions – a glance to the side here, a wistful sigh there. Something was weighing on her mind, and Madoka very much doubted it had the slightest to do with today's lesson.

Maybe it wasn't her business to pry. Honestly, it really wasn't. If Homura didn't want to talk about it, then pushing wasn't going to do any good.

Still, it struck Madoka in that moment just how little she really knew of the other girl's life. Had she always lived in Japan? Was she an only child, or did she have any brothers or sisters? What did her parents do for a living?

On that subject, while Homura had been to her house and met her mom and dad numerous times now, the reverse was never the case. Was there a reason for that? Something she didn't want Madoka to see?

Maybe…

"Miss Kaname!" shouted Kazuko Saotome, causing Madoka to jump about ten meters out of her skin.

"Oh, uh…um…sorry!" she stammered out. "I…err, I was…"

Her English teacher bent her pointer and let out a long sigh. "Honestly, I expect more from you, Miss Kaname. Please pay more attention next time," she said. "I'll repeat the question. What is the proper use of the subjunctive mood?"

But as Madoka wracked half her brain to recall last week's lecture on the subject, the other half was far more focused on the long black tresses that flowed down a chair three rows ahead.

And what secrets might possibly lie beneath them.

[-]

"This was…not how I expected this was gonna go," declared Sayaka Miki, tilting her head to the side as if it might make the scene before them look a little different.

Her classmate threw an arm around her shoulder and grinned, causing the Rocky stick between her teeth to twitch slightly.

"Then ya haven't been payin' much attention, have ya?" responded Kyoko Sakura, a playful bite to her tone. "I mean, didja see how Viktor reacted when the piggy took silver in China?"

Sayaka flushed, and mumbled out, "Well…yeah…but that's a bit different than…umm…"

Her azure eyes drifted back to the sight of the homegrown champion figure skater, whose triumphant homecoming they'd all come to watch, passionately making out with his Russian coach.

A shocked gasp made itself heard amidst the din of flashing cameras and shouted questions from reporters. Hitomi Shizuki grasped her cheeks and said, scandalized, "This isn't right! This is forbidden love! Boys can't love boys! Boys can't love boys!"

"Ah, shove it. And get yer ass outta the closet while yer at it. Any girl who can't get 'er rocks off at that display doesn't have a straight bone in 'er body," Kyoko cut in. Her tongue flicked out and ran itself slowly across her protruding fang. "Me? Bi an' proud, sister. An' lovin' the show."

Hitomi didn't have an answer for that, merely covering her mouth with trembling fingers and trying to focus on absolutely anything but the gloriously public display of affection.

Sayaka also didn't look entirely together, but not for reasons related to the newly out couple at all. The slow, sensual movement of Kyoko's tongue had…err…

Well, it'd been…difficult to look away from.

"I never would've guessed you follow professional figure skating, Kyoko Sakura," spoke a near-toneless voice from behind.

All three girls' heads turned, and Sayaka felt her mood sour so quickly it was almost audible.

If pressed, the blue-haired girl would've had trouble articulating precisely why she so disliked Homura Akemi. While she was hardly what one would call "sociable," Homura had been nothing but cordial in their interactions, if terse and a bit aloof.

But there was just something about her that gnawed at Sayaka, somewhere deep down in her gut. Something that told her she couldn't be trusted.

Of course, it was entirely possible that said "something" was just garden-variety jealousy. Sayaka was loath to admit it, but that was probably likelier than any other explanation.

After all, it was all but impossible these days for her to see her childhood best friend without Homura hanging on in tow – like a creeping vine stubbornly clinging to a tree.

Case in point…

"Oh, wow! That's so cool!" said Madoka, clasping her hands and beaming as she gazed upon the history-making couple. Like always, she looked and sounded as if she'd walked off the cover of a pop idol album. "I heard the rumors on the internet, but I'm so happy for them!"

"I can certainly appreciate their candor, if nothing else," Homura added, taking up position a bit closer to the pink-haired girl than Sayaka would've preferred.

"Yeah, it's a good time ta be a member of the rainbow community," Kyoko piped up, for some reason deciding to casually rest her elbow on Sayaka's shoulder as she did. "Ya hear 'bout the CEO of that big tech company? Uh…future, somethin' or other? Anyway, her girl's an MMA fighter, if ya can believe it. Getting' married next week, whole big shebang. Damn…wish it was legal here."

"Japan is a culturally conservative nation. I've no doubt that point will be reached in time, but I don't foresee it in the near future. America and Europe have better shots," replied Homura, without the slightest hint of emotion. Her eyes narrowed shrewdly at the glittering engagement ring the Russian was now proudly showing off to a young fan. "Still, I don't envy his position."

"Is Russia really that, umm…?" asked Madoka, honestly curious.

"Under the regime of Vladimir Putin, persecution of people with 'non-traditional' sexualities has drastically sharpened," said Hitomi. She was still flushing furiously, but apparently hadn't been able to resist the opportunity to flex her knowledge of social studies. "This press conference will likely lead to Viktor losing the support of his home government."

"Sympathy's rich, comin' from the group's resident homophobe," Kyoko interjected, though whether she was serious, joking, or both wasn't clear.

Either way, Hitomi's cheeks reddened further.

"So, little miss purple-eyes…" the redhead switched gears, swallowing her Rocky and pulling out a fresh stick as she did. "That's about ten times the number of words I've heard outta ya, like…ever. Guess it's personal for ya? Battin' for the spaghetti team too, or what?"

"Sp…Spaghetti…?" repeated Sayaka, unable to resist asking.

Kyoko's cheeky grin grew ear to ear. "Well, spaghetti starts out straight…" she whispered, with a suggestive wink. "Until ya get it hot an' wet."

Sayaka grimaced. Madoka's cheeks blushed a deep crimson. Hitomi all but dived under a nearby park bench.

Homura, on the other hand, just stared back at the redhead with distinct disinterest. "My personal life is my business," she said, and left it at that.

"Umm…so, anyway…" mumbled Madoka after a few moments, dragging her toes awkwardly along the ground. "How is everyone doing? Uh…ready for proficiency tests next week?"

It wasn't a great segue, but Sayaka took it.

"Well, y'know, I kinda…didn't do so hot on midterms," she told her old friend, her mouth twisting into a strangled grimace. "The language stuff I think I'm okay on, but I tanked the math portion. Gotta get some studying in this weekend if I wanna bring that average up, right?"

Kyoko grinned again and scratched the back of her head. "Hey, better than me!" she exclaimed, chuckling. "I slept through half of mine!"

The blue-haired girl gritted her teeth and whacked her housemate lightly across the shoulder.

"That's because you stayed up all night binging some stupid shōnen show!" she lectured the other girl. "You're never gonna get anywhere if you don't start applying yourself, Kyoko!"

"Geez, mom, haven't yer feet outgrown those goody-two-shoes yet?" said Kyoko, dodging Sayaka's next reprimanding strike with a whoop of laughter. "Besides, ya coulda solved all this by lettin' me copy off yer homework! Then I wouldn't need the stupid tests so much!"

"Urrrrrrrgh…you're impossible!" Sayaka cried out, giving chase after the gleeful redhead with a shaking fist.

Hitomi sighed preemptively as they somehow, inevitably, began running a ring around her.

The recently arrived pair, meanwhile, looked upon this sight with a mixture of bemusement and exasperation.

"Remind me why we're out here, again?" Homura asked her friend, mutedly.

Madoka gave a small smile. "I know they can be a bit, uh…high strung. Especially that new girl," she stated in a low voice. "But they're all really nice people. You should give them more of a chance, Homura-chan."

The brunette turned back to the trio, and gave them an appraising look. One hand drifted absently to her left ear.

"Then I will," she said, without looking at her. "If it makes you happy."

[-]

Eventually, as the crowd of fans and journalists dispersed, so too did their small second-year group.

Hitomi had tea ceremony class to get to, and Sayaka's parents held both their biological daughter and their fosterling to a very strict curfew. Kyoko very often didn't follow that curfew, mind, but she at least played lip service to it.

Most of the time.

Which left the original pair to walk home together – something that suited Madoka just fine. It was an ideal chance to observe Homura more closely, and see if any other suspicious signs revealed themselves.

And boy, did they.

Now that Madoka was actively looking for it, she wasn't sure how she'd missed how differently Homura walked, compared to most girls. It was as if she was constantly on edge, craning her head minutely with each step. It was subtle, flowing perfectly into the natural movements of her body, but she was definitely keeping both eyes on their surroundings at all times.

She also noticed the brunette had positioned herself a step in front, and to her right – forming a barrier between Madoka and the cars passing by. Maybe that one wasn't intentional, but honestly Madoka just couldn't be sure.

If it was, though, it was kind of sweet.

To try and help the other girl relax a bit, Madoka reached out and clutched her hand. Immediately, Homura went stiff as a board, and her pace slowed half a step.

Madoka frowned. That'd been the opposite of what she was going for.

But when she tried to pull away, she found the grip around her hand only tightened.

"You're so kind to me, Madoka," she said, staring off into the distance. Her next words were whispered quietly, absently. "I don't deserve it."

Her frown deepened. "What do you mean, Homura-chan?" she asked.

Homura's breath hitched. It seemed she hadn't realized she'd said that out loud.

"I…I mean…" she muttered, not looking at the other girl. "Look, Madoka. I wish you could understand. But…"

"So there is something going on!" Madoka interrupted her. "Just tell me, Homura-chan. Whatever it is, I can take it."

Homura swallowed, hard, and shimmers of emotion returned to her normally dim eyes. It was as if she was watching a mask slide straight down her face.

"You have no idea how much I want to. Every time I see your face, how much I want to…" said Homura, not finishing her thought. Slowly, her fingers slipped away from the pink-haired girl's. "But that's selfish of me. There're things you're better off not knowing. So many things…"

"Isn't that my choice to make?" demanded Madoka, an uncharacteristic surge of boldness flowing up from her gut. "We're friends, Homura-chan. We help each other. Support each other."

A long, rattling sigh escaped the other girl's lips.

"Like I said…" she breathed, now clutching at her shoulders and looking askance. "You're far too kind to me."

Then, her head tilted to the other side, toward Madoka's left. "And we're here," she added, mouth barely moving.

Indeed, they'd arrived at the ultra-modernist wonder that was the Kaname residence.

Madoka briefly marveled at the way the setting sun was refracted by the spacious glass windows, then jolted as she realized Homura had already begun to leave.

"Homura-chan!" she called out to the long, flowing tresses that streamed behind her friend.

The brunette didn't stop, but she did tilt her head to the side, so that her left eye could meet Madoka's.

The pink-haired girl gulped down her nerves and, failing to come up with a better question, asked, "Wh…Where do you live?"

Homura blinked, slowly. "You don't really need to know," she said. "There's no reason for you to go there."

"Does that meant that…that whatever's wrong…" murmured Madoka, unsure how to respond to that. "It has to do with your family? Your parents?"

"I haven't had either of those for a very long time," the brunette answered tonelessly. "I grew up in a Christian orphanage. These days, I live alone."

Madoka's breath caught in her throat. Was that what this was? The distracted glances, the occasional moments of overprotectiveness?

Was Homura Akemi just…lonely?

"I told you, Madoka. You don't need to worry about me," she continued on, turning away again as she maintained her pace. "That's simply the way things are. You have better things to focus on."

But as she watched her friend disappear over the horizon, Madoka found she couldn't think of anything else.

[-]

Dinner that night was spaghetti with meatballs, one of her papa's specialties.

Of course, Madoka hadn't been able to adequately explain why she went beet-red whenever she looked at the noodles.

Regardless, the pasta – with accompanying soup, salad, and some mochi ice cream for dessert – was absolutely delicious, every bit to the standards Tomohisa Kaname had always prided himself upon. The sauce was homemade, from his very own signature cherry tomatoes, and the tangy sweetness of it practically made Madoka melt.

"You know, these tomatoes are actually the reason I met your father in the first place," said Junko Kaname, as she sat down and immediately plopped one from her salad into her mouth.

She'd arrived home halfway through the meal, more than a little buzzed, but if there was one thing that was guaranteed to sober her up in an instant, it was her husband's home cooking.

Madoka giggled. "Yeah, I've heard the story once or twice," she told her mother, vastly understating the point. When her mother got really drunk, it was either babbling rants about whichever misogynistic bigwig had denied her a promotion this time…or it was the "Tomatoes" story. "Say, is Wakō Garden still open?"

"Yep. In fact, that's where the lettuce in these salads came from. We don't really have room here to grow them properly," explained Tomohisa. "Mind, it's changed a lot over the years. Now it's one of those high-tech places where you order everything off an app. I think Kouta's even been looking into delivering produce with drones – you know, for people too old or sick to go out shopping themselves."

"Really? I know someone from that last account we closed who develops commercial drones," Junko replied, in between very undignified bites of pasta. "Get me one of Kazuraba-kun's current business cards, and I can set up a meeting."

"Ka-zu-kun! Ka-zu-kun!" Tatsuya yelped out giddily as he rocked around in his high chair, his mouth smeared with far more tomato sauce than had actually made it into his stomach.

"Oh, Tatsuya…" sighed Junko with a shake of her head, picking up a napkin to clean up her son's face.

She wobbled as she moved to get out of her chair, however, still a bit tipsy from her after-work "pick me up." Madoka gently grabbed the napkin from her and said, "Here mama, let me."

As she attempted to wipe off her baby brother's rosy cheeks, she added, "So how was work today?"

Junko let out a long, ugly sound that was somewhere in between a sigh, a groan, and a burp. "Exhausting, as usual," she mumbled. "But I've actually got some good news, too."

"Really? Well, that's unusual," remarked Tomohisa with a smile. He received a good-natured smack – or rather, a hand waved lazily in his general direction – for his trouble.

"Y'see, that account I mentioned…" Junko went on, her words irregularly slurring. "It was the biggest in the company's history. And I'm the gal who made it happen! That's right! Junko Kaname, represeeeeent…!"

"Err, honey…" said Tomohisa, now looking a little concerned.

"Relaaaaax, I'm getting to the best part," responded the purple-haired woman. "See, they're gonna have a big fancy conference about it in Paris. And guess who scored two tickets, all expenses paid!"

"W…Wow…" her husband whispered in awe. "That's incredible, Junko! But, err…when you say 'two' tickets…"

"I know it's short notice, Tomo. We'd leave on Monday and be gone for a week," stated Junko, her eyes shimmering apologetically. "But I really don't wanna pass this up. And there's no one I'd rather go with than you."

"You know I feel the same way. I mean…Paris! It's the most romantic city in the world! And the food is…well…" he declared, his chef senses already practically salivating at the thought. "But…I mean, we can't just up and leave like that. Not for a whole week. Who will watch the kids?"

"We could get a sitter," Junko suggested. "What's Saltza-san up to these days?"

Tomohisa just shook his head. "Hermann passed away last year," he said with a sigh. "Never really recovered after that nasty business in Kazamino a couple years back. Poor guy got caught up with that weird cult."

"I think I can look after Tatsuya," their daughter piped up, showing off her brother's freshly clean face in demonstration. "I'd hate for you and papa to miss out on such a nice trip, just because of us."

But now it was Junko's turn to shake her head no.

"I'm sorry, Madoka, but I don't think you're ready for that," she spoke seriously. As usual, the responsibilities of motherhood were the one thing guaranteed to bring her "sober self" to the surface. "It'd be one thing if you were on your own, or if the trip was shorter. But this is a lot different than holding down the fort for one night so we can have a date. Tatsuya's only three, and…well…"

They all turned to gaze at the youngest member of the Kaname household, who responded back with the most angelic expression possible.

Then, with that very same cherubic face, he brought down both his knobby fists, and overturned his soup bowl all over the floor.

His father sighed. "I'll get it this time," he said, going to the kitchen to get a rag.

"Hmmm…most of my friends don't live close enough for you to get to school every day," Junko continued to muse, tapping a finger against her chin as she helped herself to some mochi. "There's Kazuko, of course, but I…don't really recommend that. Do you know if this is one of her 'single' periods?"

"She's got a boyfriend right now. But based on the short story she wants us to write for homework…" answered Madoka, sitting back down and grabbing some dessert as well. "I have a feeling he just cheated on her with, and I quote, 'some no-good green-haired hussy who only goes by her initials.' The assignment was weirdly specific on that point."

"Oh, just great. That's gonna be a fun rant to sit through, next time we're at the bar," her mother groaned. "She really is just like the sister I never had. Or wanted."

There was a brief moment of silence as Tomohisa reentered the room, bent down, and began wiping up his son's mess. Then, a light flickered within her eyes.

"Say…" she muttered, turning her gaze toward her husband. Or rather – and probably not coincidentally – his well-angled posterior. "What about your sister? I haven't seen Akane-chan in ages."

"She and her partner just bought a place on the other side of town. I guess it's close enough to the middle school, if Madoka's willing to take the bus," said Tomohisa, as he gingerly carried the now soup-soaked rag back to the kitchen. "Not sure either of them has experience with kids, though."

"They should be fine. I mean, they're both cops, right?" asked his wife, to which Tomohisa nodded as he passed. "Though that might be a strike against them, if the schedules don't line up…"

"Actually, the timing works out pretty well. They're both on paid time off until the end of the month," he told her, taking out his phone and opening his email. "Something about a corruption conviction in their unit, looks like. They're pretty sure everyone else is clean, but the whole division is on leave until they complete the investigation."

"Well then, I don't think it'd hurt to ask," replied Junko. "Worst that can happen is she says no, and we're back where we started."

"Alright, I'll give her a call. Madoka, would you mind doing the dishes while I take care of this?" said Tomohisa, before going into Junko's office and dialing the number.

"Of course, papa!" the teenager exclaimed brightly. There was nothing she loved better than feeling useful to others…especially after such a magnificent meal.

She really needed to be more grateful to her father. He did so much for her – for all of them – while asking for so little in return.

Madoka resolved to tell him that once he returned from this incredible-sounding vacation. And to tell her mother the same, of course.

She really was so fortunate to live with a family like this. Not everyone was so lucky.

And with that thought, the smile fell away from her face.

Madoka stood in front of the sink for several minutes, her body on autopilot as it soaked one dish after another in soapy water, her mind whirring with activity. Eventually, however, she was joined by another, who just as automatically began drying the finished plates and bowls.

"Sorry to leave you alone with this. Had to go throw up half the meal," said Junko. "Which isn't a commentary on your father's cooking, by the way! I may just have had…err…a couple too many after work. And by 'a couple' I mean six or seven."

The pink-haired girl released a short, sympathetic chuckle. It's not like she wasn't used to this by now.

Her mouth soon returned to its earlier expression, however, and her mother immediately picked up on it. "What's the matter?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Madoka wasn't entirely sure what to say in response – but also knew she wasn't going to be able to avoid saying something. She wasn't nearly as skilled at dodging these questions as Homura was.

But what should she say? Her mom and dad had both met Homura, several times over, and the brunette had been nothing but gracious and polite on every occasion. Was it really Madoka's place to potentially mar that image with what she knew, or suspected, about Homura's home life?

Or was that even necessary? She was getting so bogged down with the problem that she'd forgotten to try thinking of a solution. That was one of Junko's favorite lessons for her daughter.

Every new development had to be seen as an opportunity, her mother was fond of saying. That was how you got ahead in business, ahead with people – and ahead in life.

A look of determination settled on Madoka Kaname's face. She knew now what she needed to do.

"Mama, assuming Auntie Akane says yes…" she said, handing over the final rinsed-off dish. "Do you think it'd be okay if I brought along a friend?"