Archive of Our Own ^beta

    The call always comes at 22:03 by her cell phone's clock. 

    "How was your first day at school?" It's always her mother's first question.  She asks about the apartment.  She asks if the moving service damaged or lost anything.  She promises to come to visit as soon as she can.  Most likely she will, but not within the month. 

    "I'd like to buy some things for the apartment," Homura says.  "It looks a little bare."

    "Oh, really?  I'll transfer some more money to your account, then." 

    "Thank you."  Having the displays for all of her information seems to help in convincing the others to join her against Walpurgisnacht.  Sakura Kyoko, at least, and possibly Tomoe Mami.  Her mother doesn't need to know the details.  When this is finally all over, and her parents come to visit, Homura can find other things for the screens to display. 

    "You're feeling all right?  You were able to make arrangements with the school nurse?"

    "Yes."  Now she doesn't need to, but her mother doesn't need to know.  Mitakihara's primary hospital is world-class.  That's why she transferred, so long ago, back when keeping close to a hospital was important.  There was talk of her mother coming with her, but that fell through.  Her parents were both just too busy.  At one point, this had troubled her, but now it's a relief.  She doesn't need to explain to anyone where she is, why she leaves the house at night and comes back smelling like gunpowder, what she's doing with explosives in her room...  Not that she does that anymore, she has better solutions, but once it would have raised questions. 

    "Be sure to call me if you need anything," her mother says, and they say goodnight, and she drops her phone on the couch.  She'll talk to her mother four more times.  On the second of those calls, she'll speak to her father briefly.  He'll tell her that he found a few stuffed animals that they'd forgotten to pack, and ask if she wants them.  At first, she said yes, but then stuffed animals started reminding her too much of the Incubator, so she started saying no.  That didn't last long, because he sounded puzzled and hurt, and she felt guilty.  Now she'll just agree, and call him "papa," and then he'll pass the phone back to her mother.  Her mother will suggest a date for their visit, but they won't make any conclusive plans, and she won't bring the subject up on the next two calls. 

    She used to be lonely, but that seems a very long time ago.  Now she knows that being alone in an apartment isn't anything to fear, and it's been so long since she's seen her parents that she barely misses them.  She's no longer the same girl they visited in the hospital.  Would they notice, if they came to visit now?