Uh hey, not sure if you watch Madoka, and this is my second prompt ask, because I somehow forgot to suggest it, so if you ignore it, that's totally fine. But if you've seen the concept film, could you do a short story about Homura watching Madoka do ballet?

Have a very mundane bit of nothing!









“Oh!” The graceful lines Madoka traced through the steps of her dance faltered as she overbalanced.





Homura was halfway out of her chair, ready to catch her, but Madoka regained her footing easily and continued as though the misstep had never happened. With a small smile, Homura sat back, hands folded in her lap.





A blush colored Madoka’s cheeks and ears. “Sorry,” she said, moving into a slow pirouette, “I’m out of practice.”





“I think you’re amazing.” Catching the dreaminess in her tone, Homura clarified, “I’ve heard it’s incredibly difficult to dance on your toes like that.”





Indeed, the seemingly weightless grace with which Madoka moved was down to strength and disciplined control. She would have been lovely to watch in any style, but to see her do ballet was impressive in every aspect.





Madoka hummed agreement, back straight as a doll suspended on a string. “I was only allowed to start pointe training a couple years ago, and I’ve been dancing since I was four.” She traced a delicate arc with one leg, balanced statue-still on the other. “It’s easy to hurt yourself if your form isn’t right.”





“Your form looks perfect to me.”





“You just can’t see all the mistakes I’m making,” Madoka said, with a small, self-deprecating laugh.





They lapsed into silence as Madoka returned her full concentration to her dance. After a minute, Homura leaned forward in her seat, a question blotting all other concerns from her mind.





“Madoka, are you happy?”





Madoka paused, arms outstretched in the middle of a sweeping gesture. She blinked. “Well, sure,” she said, lowering herself onto her feet. “Why, am I making a weird face?” Rubbing the back of her neck, she gave Homura an apologetic grin. “I guess my toes are getting a little sore. It’s been a while since I’ve done this much pointe work.”





“Please don’t push yourself too hard on my account,” Homura said, relief and contentment returning. “It was nice just to see you enjoying yourself.” She almost regretted her question, because it had ended the dance. But she really didn’t want Madoka hurting herself, and if that was all she could handle for now it was more than enough. There would be other dances.





She stood, offering the chair so that Madoka could comfortably remove her shoes. Madoka took a seat, her tutu deforming against the back of the chair.





“Thanks!” Unlacing the ribbons, Madoka slipped the pointe shoes off with a grateful sigh. They hit the floor with muffled wooden thumps. Bent double, she rubbed her bandaged toes. “To be honest, I don’t really like dancing for an audience, unless I’m in a big group, at the back.” She looked up and smiled. “You’re different, though. I don’t feel anxious at all.”





Homura smiled in return. “I’m glad,” she said.





And she really was.