She was late as always, or at least so it seemed. Maybe it was better to be in surprise.

Kyoko leaned against the door, just as easy to break in then as it was when she learned with Mami. Her apartment, from what she could see, was the same as always. It certainly had it's fancy touches (Kyoko had always found them unnecessary, but she never voiced them), but Mami had never added or removed them. They had satisfied her just the way that they were.

Even if the furniture and decorations hadn't changed, certainly the girl inside must have. She had continued to fight witches for more than a few weeks, a record for magical girls.

Sometimes, though Kyoko tried not to think about it, she was sure that the only reason that she was still alive was because of Mami's training.

Moving forward, she headed for the kitchen. Mami always had something good in her fridge, and she had always been open for other people taking some.

"It's not as if I can eat it all myself."

It would be a shame to waste it, Kyoko thought. She opened the door, revealing a whole shelf full of baked and cooked treats. Mami really did tend to make a lot when she cooked.

She grabbed a chocolate cake, then closed the refrigerator. It seemed like as good of a thing to start on as any.

Mami made the best cakes in the world; Kyoko was reminded of this as she ate another bite. How long had it been since she had last eaten here? Seven or eight months, maybe longer? The numbers and days were all blurring in her mind.

All that really mattered was that a few days before, Mami died. There had finally been a witch more powerful than her.

Mami had never been one to shy away from the fact that magical girls could and would die. To her, it was just part of the job, and she had accepted it as a possibility in her job.

Sooner or later, and she hadn't known when, she would fall. Mami had managed to accept that.

Rushing to the kitchen sink, Kyoko vomited, chocolate goop pouring into the sink. The sick smell filled the small kitchen. Quickly, Kyoko turned on the sink, letting the vomit go down the drain. Just as quickly, she shoved the cake in the fridge; there was no reason for it to go to waste.

She ran out as quickly as she could; it wasn't that she wasn't welcome (Mami always had allowed her in no matter what time, even offered her a room), it was that she couldn't handle it any longer. Kyoko couldn't remember the last time that a food had bothered her stomach.

Only when she was a few blocks away and hidden in shadows, panting and covered in sweat, did she finally allow herself to cry.