The alley was narrow, barely wide enough to stretch her arms across. Shadows crawled along the cracked stone walls, but the silence was merciful, only broken by the gentle trickle of water from a distant drainpipe and the faint rustle of wind against some unseen hanging cloth above. Homura wasn't curious enough to find out what.
She exhaled slowly, her breath almost a whisper in the quiet. A quick glance toward the alley's entrance confirmed no one was around.
Her fingers tapped lightly on her shield.
Turning her back to the world, she tapped her fingers lightly against her shield. With a familiar, soft click, the segmented plates shifted and unfolded like clockwork petals. revealing the inner chamber of her shield, and a pocket dimension riddled with an assortment of items.
"Let's see what I've got," she muttered, slipping her arm inside.
The first thing to surface was a sleek, black handgun, safety still engaged, fully loaded. She eyed it for a long moment before setting it carefully against the wall beside her.
"Might be useful,"
Her hand plunged back inside.
Two flashbang grenades. A cracked sniper scope. A tightly wrapped bundle of bandages. Her old flip phone, battered, screen cracked, battery almost dead, useless in this world. A single roll of duct tape, still sticky and intact. somewhat useful.
An empty canteen. A half-used notebook with scribbled notes in various languages. A broken silver locket she didn't even remember acquiring. Her fingers hesitated over it before she pushed it back inside.
Then, without warning
clunk
a wooden chair.
Not a travel stool. Not some tiny folding seat. A full-sized wooden chair, made of oak. scuffed and worn, but solid wood and real.
The chair sat awkwardly in the alley, one leg wobbling on a loose cobblestone. She didn't bother sitting. Instead, she regarded it like an odd puzzle piece left in the wrong box.
With a sigh, she shrugged. "At least it's not a desk lamp."
The shield answered, producing exactly that, a desk lamp, its cord tangled and shade dented.
"I hate myself," she muttered flatly.
More things followed in rapid succession: tangled wired earphones, a cracked Tamagotchi, a pair of pink fuzzy socks with the price tag still attached, a standard-issued grenade, a frying pan, and lastly a single shoe.
She stared, blinked, then, without a shred of hesitation, flung the shoe back inside with enough force to smash a wall.
A faint heat crept up her cheeks.
"What was I doing back then…"
She looked at the growing pile of stuff beside her, rubbing her forehead with one hand, before plunging back into the shield with a mixture of grim determination and quiet dread.
A screwdriver set.A Hello Kitty pencil case, worn but intact.A half-eaten protein bar, still sealed and completely pristine.
A full roll of toilet paper. It was thick.
A plush penguin with a crooked bow tie.A pastel pink umbrella with lace frills and ruffled edges.
She stared at it with thinly veiled offence.
"I don't even remember storing half this stuff. Let alone why."
Again and again, her hand delved deeper.
With every item, her expression grew flatter, colder, and more betrayed. (at her past self.)
Eventually, her fingers emerged clutching a soggy stack of mismatched playing cards. Was that uno? And... wait, was that Boardwalk?
She eyed them, then glanced down into the shadowed depths of the shield's interior.
"How deep is this thing?" she muttered aloud. "And how much stuff did I shove in here!?" Valid questions, shockingly never asked before. or any questions about her powers given by the soul-snatching cat.
The old wooden chair beside her creaked, as if in agreement, because of course the chair was talking to her. (and not because she was going crazy)
Finally, after what felt like hours (5 minutes), her fingertips brushed against something cool and metallic.
She carefully pulled out a small ornamental box, just hand-sized. Its surface was etched with delicate floral patterns that curled and twisted around tiny, eye-catching gems, shimmering subtly in the faint light.
Homura turned the box over slowly, lips pressing into a thin, tired line.
She let out a soft, exhausted sigh, eyes drifting back to the massive, disorganised pile beside her.
"This will definitely be worth a lot… finally," she murmured, a glimmer of hope piercing through her weariness.
She turned back to her shield and, with quiet resolve, began shoving every item back inside. The shield swallowing them like a vacuum.
"In the future, I really need to organise all this stuff. Who knows what else might be hidden in there," she muttered to herself.
A faint breeze stirred the alley as she stood, the space now empty of the chaotic heap it once held.
With one last lingering glance at the spot where her scattered belongings had been, Homura's form flickered and shifted. In the blink of an eye, her magical girl attire melted away, replaced once more by her familiar school uniform.
She stepped out of the alley. Now, her next goal was clear: find a pawn shop, a fence, or maybe even a jewellery store willing to buy. shouldn't be that hard, right?
A/N short, but I hoped you enjoyed anyway, next chapter will be longer. but one thing i'd like to ask, i made this chapter lean more into the comedy aspects (cause this morning, or technically last night. heh, 3 am. I biged read all of Homura Tamura again.)
just asking, want more serious homura, want more comedy.
anyway
See ya!