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Apple and Cinnamon
Apple and Cinnamon
a Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica fanfiction
by Sakura Rurouni
For Rosenal's KyouMami contest
"It is a truth universally acknowledged that a young girl in possession of magical powers must be in want of a frilly outfit."
"Oh, bullshit, Mami-san. I know that reference and it does NOT say that."
"Well, it does now." I made no effort at all to conceal my grin as I lifted the frilly garment into sight. Tomoyo, eat your heart out.
She visibly blanched, moving backwards on instinct. "W-what is that... that... abomination?!"
"This," I replied, trying to emphasize how very generous I am being, "is your uniform for the evening. Take it. Embrace it. Wear it in expectation of two days in the future."
"You're taking advantage of my desperation!" She objected, coming closer now, wincing as she took in every frilly detail.
I shrugged. "Yes, and? Beggars cannot be choosers, Sakura-san."
"But whyyyyyyy?" She was doing her best to look tragic. Little did she know that
"Kyouko, open up."
Her mouth opened in a yawn. I forked a piece of french toast, covered in a slight sheen of maple syrup, and held it over her mouth as she yawned, letting the syrup drip down onto her tongue.
She paused for a moment, then her eyes opened wide. "That was sugar."
"I brought you breakfast in bed," I said as I sat by her side, smiling. "Good morning."
"You are the greatest," The redhead replied as she took the tray I had in my hands and placed it on her own lap, plate of french toast and all. Now that she was sitting up and wide awake, I stood up and pulled open the curtains.
The sun had already made some progress across the sky. It was already ten in the morning, and way later than I would have normally been around. Kyouko must have noticed, but she was too busy scarfing down french toast to ask me immediately.
"Mami-san," she began, licking the syrup off of her fingertips. "Why are you still here, anyway?"
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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