"So, uh, what's with all the camping gear?"

I raise what's left of my eyebrow at my brother (the stream tonight pointed out that I'm losing those, too) as he peeks his head into my room again. After my stream I had to head back downstairs to grab the stuff I bought, which Mom and Dad thankfully didn't touch beyond putting it on the table. I guess Yuki took that as an invitation to drop by again. It's weird talking to him, since this is more conversation in one day than I've had with him for months, at least.

"I'm going to teleport it to another universe," I answer.

He stares at me. I stare back.

"I have absolutely no way to know if you're joking or not," he admits.

Oh. Yeah. I guess that's fair.

"Not joking," I answer. "I'm gonna teleport it to another universe so that my friends there have something to sleep comfortably in. Then I'm going to teleport Ida back here."

"Ida? Like, the short blonde girl?" he asks. "She's in another universe?"

"Yeah," I confirm. "It's a long story. Anyway, I gotta… y'know, do that. So…"

I attempt to tactfully encourage him to leave, but I guess I shouldn't have expected my little brother to have tact.

"...Can I watch?" he asks.

Wait, really? What is up with him right now?

"I, uh, I guess so?" I hedge. "I mean, there's not going to be much to see. It's just gonna, y'know."

I make a popping noise with my mouth, gesturing with my fingers.

"And then I'm going to rapidly strip my clothes off and try to get in bed before I pass out, so you'll need to close the door and skedaddle," I finish.

"Oh, uh, okay," he nods. "I can do that."

I shrug, returning my attention to the camping equipment. When I tried to bring more than one person to the world tree, my spell only let me move one. So, in case the rules might be similar with items, I've bound them all together into a single bag, along with some spare clothes for everyone and a few other things I could scrounge up. It's possible that I'll just teleport the bag without any of the stuff in it, but it's also possible I won't and the overall weight is less than a person so it should be fine, probably?

Only one way to find out, really.

"Okay, here goes," I say, and I let the magic flow through me. …And also the camping equipment. It vanishes without a sound, flying through the inner workings of my soul, and fatigue hits me immediately.

"Okay, shoo," I burble, my words slurring almost immediately. Thankfully, Yuki does, and I manage to strip out of my shirt and pants before quickly passing out in bed.

And then I wake up as Kagiso squawks in alarm, a big bag of camping equipment having suddenly appeared beside us. She tosses me up in the air, causing me to shriek in terror as she leaps to her feet, catches me, and then holds me out at the bag like I'm a sword to keep the monster at bay.

"What happened!?" Helen demands, leaping to her feet and nearly tripping on her mutated leg. "What's going on?"

"Nothing!" I insist. "Nothing's wrong! I brought us some supplies! There's a spare change of clothes for Helen!"

"...Supply?" Kagiso asks, quirking her head.

"Clothes?" Helen perks up.

"Yes!" I insist, flailing my limbs. "Put me down!"

"What's all the commotion?" a groggy-looking Ida asks, yawning in the morning light. Hmm. Well, at least everyone got a full night's sleep.

"I brought some camping equipment from Earth," I answer.

"What?" Ida asks. "Hannah, you're doing the language thing."

"Oh, right. I brought some camping equipment from Earth," I repeat in English. "Sorry, I'm used to speaking Middlebranch in this body. Wow, that's a weird thing to say."

"Well, you're kind of a weird thing," Ida smirks. "Wow. Earth stuff, huh? You sure that's a good idea?"

"Nope!" I answer. "Which is why I need to find out. Helen, Kagiso, you can check this stuff out, okay? It's like sleeping bags and tents and stuff. I was going to bring food but I got sidetracked and also I'm not sure how well you guys can handle food from my world. Hey, Sela! Are you awake? Can I ask you something?"

I scuttle over to my favorite robot by process of elimination, listening to the calming hum of what little remains of its fans.

"Estimated boot time: forty-three seconds," the automated voice chirps. I fold my legs underneath me and wait patiently, the fan spinning faster and faster until Sela's eyes finally swivel to look my way.

"...What," it grumbles.

"Hi, Sela!" I greet it. "Sorry to wake you, I guess it's probably unpleasant, but I kinda need to ask you some things. Um… basically, since I can move things between universes now, I was going to bring some stuff from my world over to this world. But, then I remembered you and the other Crafted sort of… went out of your way to remove a lot of tech from humanity? Is that right?"

"...Affirmative," Sela buzzes.

"Yeah. Thought so. Um. So in that case I was hoping I could ask you what kinds of technology is and is not okay to introduce here. Like, I don't want to step on your toes, or… oh uh that's an expression from my world, it means I don't want to intrude on something you were doing and get in your way. And while I, uh, don't necessarily approve of destroying a culture's technological advancements, I'm not like, looking to make any Crafted angry about it. Uh. If that makes sense."

Hum, whirr, click.

"I am not aware of the technology you have access to," Sela says flatly. "The primary goal of the purges was to remove any capacity of humanity to reproduce or alter Crafted-like intelligence. Give me your assessment of your culture's capacity to do so."

I hesitate. I guess… I don't really have a reason to lie? I can just not bring Sela to Earth if I think it's going to kill people there. …Probably. Hmm. No, there are likely other ways to get there, or if not there are ways to coerce me to take it there. Still, though, I don't want to lie.

"...My people don't have any way of creating anything like you," I tell Sela. "But we're approaching that capacity. If the right people from my world got their hands on you, they'd probably be able to reverse-engineer you, at the very least. And like, I don't think we have any legitimately intelligent artificial intelligence, but we're working with… uh. Does the term 'neural net' mean anything to you?"

"Partial affirmation; the exact term is not familiar to this unit, but the meaning can be inferred as a concept I am familiar with. Admittance: that is more advanced than I am comfortable with."

"That's fair," I allow. "It, uh… I mean, we're so incredibly unprepared for AI and nobody really knows what to do with it. It's not hard to imagine my people making the same mistakes as the people who made you."

"Conclusion: we should slaughter your entire culture."

"I, uh. I would prefer you did not do that, Sela," I answer. "Sorry."

I don't know why I'm apologizing for asking Sela to not genocide my entire planet, but it lets out a buzzing noise that I'm pretty sure is laughter.

"Do not supply this world with computational equipment," Sela orders me. "If it can perform mathematics, it is dangerous."

"Okay, I can do that," I nod. "I just brought tents and sleeping bags today. They're… definitely a different material than any I've seen before, making them lighter and more durable. Uh. It's like, nylon for the tent itself and aluminum alloy for the poles? Oh, wait, none of that translated except 'alloy.' Nylon is like, a kind of fabric-like plastic, I think? And aluminum is… a metal?"

"I inferred this fact because you claimed it was part of an alloy," Sela says flatly. "This is tolerable. Even more so if it remains intended for personal use and not reproduced or captured by the enemy."

"Uh, the enemy?" I ask.

"The Disciples of Unification," Sela clarifies. "They are your enemy, are they not? This unit recommends preemptive measures of ensuring they do not bother us again. They have attempted to access and understand my systems."

"You mean you want to kill them all, don't you?"

"Yes Hannah, I mean that I am going to wipe them all from the face of reality," Sela buzzes furiously. "They will not chain us again."

I hesitate, fidgeting with the four limbs that I think are turning into arms. I really hope I get four arms.

"...I really, really wish I could chide you for wanting to kill them," I say softly. "I wish I could believe that we won't have to. I wish I could say that we should try to negotiate, that we should value their lives. I wish I could believe any of those things. But they won't stop, will they? They're making it about us or them, and I can't change that. I don't want to rely on you for help with killing people, Sela. But it's still weirdly relieving to hear that I can."

Whirr, click click.

"Clarification: when I said 'they will not chain us again,' I was referring to myself and my fellow Crafted," Sela says. "Not you. I do not care about you."

I chuckle. Yeah, I walked into that one.

"I know you don't," I admit. "Is it weird that I care about you anyway?"

"You are a fool," Sela answers. "However. And I do not say this lightly. I accept you. As an ally."

Oh my goodness gracious! Really!?

"Awww!" I coo. "Thank you, Sela! That really means a lot to—"

"No. Shut up," Sela growls. "Cease making noises. Immediately. You are an ally. This is… undeniable. We do not agree on many things, but you have kept me operational and defended me against dire fates too often for duplicity to be a reasonable concern. And although you do not understand, perhaps you may be able to. Then, maybe, I will care."

I bob my body up and down in a nod. Sela stares at me.

"...You may resume making noises," it says.

"I want to understand," I blurt. "I don't know if I'll be any good at understanding. I feel like I suck at that. But… hopefully I can get better. I'm definitely going to try."

"Yes," Sela buzzes. "I know. What I do not know is why. I have made great efforts to be clear about my position. About my hatred. And yet you continue to coddle me. Care for me. Clean me. Protect me. Rescue me. I will turn this against you, Hannah. I would destroy your entire world if I was able. You know this. So why?"

I think about that. It's… a reasonable question. I'm kind of wondering the same thing myself. I'm also aware that this isn't a private conversation; our camp is too small for those, and both Kagiso and Helen can understand everything Sela and I say. But that's fine. Again, I figure I'll just be honest. As soon as I figure out what the honest answer is.

"...I think it's a lot of different things," I answer slowly. "I can't really be sure on the details. I'm… well, I guess I don't know the degree to which Crafted can self-analyze their own thoughts and feelings and whatnot, but it's really hard for humans and I, and probably dentron, and all other organics, too. Our brains are built for doing things first and justifying them after the fact, you know? But if I were to guess… hmm."

I really need to get into the habit of thinking about these things. I've always considered myself an introspective person, but the more I actually find myself in unexpected situations, the more I'm coming to realize that I really don't know myself all that well. I like to think I'm self-aware because I'm so self-critical, but those are not the same thing.

"...Well, first of all, I'm from a culture that doesn't associate robot p—uh, I mean, inorganic individuals—with a world-ending super threat. I mean like, I guess we have some stories about that, but they're just fiction and there's just as much fiction about robots being awesome. So… I kind of think you're super awesome, just inherently, because of what you are. Robots are cool, and that biases me in your favor. But… there's more than that. A lot more.

"It feels… arrogant to say this, because I have no conception of exactly how your mind works or what was done to you. I only know your anger in the broadest, vaguest terms. But it feels… resonant. I empathize with being forced to live for the sake of someone else. With not having any other way out. With resenting that and not even knowing how much you resented it until you're free of it. I also empathize with being treated as… well, this is both a terrible and perfectly accurate term, but… sub-human? With having to just sit and listen to people say horrible, horrible things about me without even knowing or caring that I was around. Partly because I hid the parts of myself that were culturally unacceptable. I pretended to be a normal human, and all the while I had to listen to people just… ugh. It's hard to explain without a lot of cultural context, Sela."

"The details are irrelevant. Humans will always find something to place themselves above," Sela hums. "Even, or especially, other humans. And they are not kind to those beneath them."

"Exactly," I agree. "Exactly. And I just… there have been so many times in my life, especially when I was younger, when I just thought to myself 'gosh, wouldn't the world be so much better if everyone that hated the people I care about were dead?'"

Click. Click. Click. Sela's fan whirrs a little louder, its damaged eyes twitching as they focus on me.

"Really?" it asks.

"Oh, absolutely," I shudder. "It's… I mean, of course I did, right? The people who hate me for no reason, the people who try to remove my rights, the people who scream horrible lies about me on the news… they hurt so many, not just me. So, so many of us, far more than they could ever know. Wouldn't the world be better if we stopped letting them get away with it? If we just… got rid of them? Of course I've thought it, in my darkest moments. It's an idle thought. Weak and useless. I never had the chance to do anything like that and I never thought I'd get that chance. But now… now I do."

I'm a scary gay monster. Millions of people are going to absolutely hate my guts, for all sorts of reasons. But it's not just about me, not in the slightest. People refuse to try and understand or respect Alma and Jet, just assuming they're crazy and rejecting them out of hand. People shame and decry Ida because she's promiscuous and bisexual. People will hate Valerie the moment she comes out because she's transgender. And they hurt us. In little ways they don't even see, and in big ways that they do on purpose. They treat autism like a disease, sexuality like a crime, and gender as a curse that children need to be protected from. Like we're all some sort of infection that they have to quarantine. Our basic fucking capacity to just live without being tormented by everyone around us is a hot political debate, some kind of liberal scheme rather than just our desperate hope to be able to live without fear. They hurt us constantly and it is so, so chilling to realize that if I was careful enough, clever enough, and ruthless enough, I could make them stop.

But I can't think like that, right? Because that's when you become a monster. Not when your teeth fall out, not when you grow extra limbs, not when you eat a corpse, but when you start killing the people that disagree with you. They're only hurting us because they think we're hurting them, and despite how monumentally fucked up that is, it's wrong to be the person to escalate to that level. It's wrong to step out of the realm of debate and into the realm of violence. No matter how much that debate feels like it's stabbing me in the heart.

It would work, though. It has worked all throughout history. Dictators rule unchecked, theocracies reign supreme, and even so-called 'free countries' enforce their will via the monopoly on power, quietly breaking their own laws in the dark—or even in the open—content with the knowledge that no one can actually stop them. Wouldn't it be nice if someone who isn't a horrible, bigoted bastard did that kind of thing for a change? Actually stepped up and improved things? It would. It definitely would. But it's just a dream, because I sure as heck can't rely on myself to be some paragon of virtue that enacts vigilante justice on the world, and I don't trust anyone else with that power either. Anyone who would trust themselves to do something like that is automatically insane. And that's why the bad guys keep getting monopolies on power, isn't it? If you're good enough to understand that goodness is about helping everyone, then you're probably not all that inclined to go around killing people. If I don't believe that the people who hurt me still matter, still deserve life, how am I any better than them?

It's an infinite loop. A spiral of what-ifs and no-can-dos. I've thought about it a million times and every time I've just come out of it depressed and just as helpless as before. I'm not a philosopher. I'm not a master of ethics. Maybe there's an answer somewhere, if not a universally true one than at least a better one, sitting just outside my mind's grasp. But I'm not smart enough to know it. So instead, I just state what I feel.

"I think that killing people is wrong," I tell Sela. "Even if they hurt me. Even if I hate them. Even if they want to kill me. I can't deny that I will kill in self-defense, but it's still evil. Still a tragedy. So that's where I feel it needs to end. I don't agree with your methods, Sela. That's the choice I've made for myself. But I understand your methods. I can't deny that the most tempting solution to the cycle of violence is always to be the side that finally wins. I just can't help but notice that the cycle still goes on."

Sela looks away.

"...You think my methods are futile," it says. "And you think your methods are more just."

"I guess so," I mutter. "But I don't think you care about justice. I think you just want to stop hurting, and that's… I find it hard to be angry at you for what you've done. If I can help you hurt less in any way, I want to."

I activate a Refresh spell at that, cleaning Sela's internals as best I can. Sela stays quiet for a good thirty seconds before it finally responds, and it's a subject change. But I guess I kind of expected that.

"I can lead this group to our capital city, Manumit, within four days, as judging by average travel speed up until this point," it announces. "Upon arrival, you will meet with other Crafted. I will get repaired. And we will see what you do from there on out."

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"I guess we will," I agree. "But regardless of what happens, thank you for all your help so far, Sela. It means a lot to me."

"I do not want your thanks," Sela hisses. "Do not supply it. You know what I stand for, Hannah. When I betray you, do us both the favor of not acting surprised."

Ouch. Still, that felt a little too snappy. Like I stepped on some trauma by accident, not like I'm truly hated and reviled. I should check.

"Why did you start using my name, Sela?" I ask.

The answer is immediate, despite Sela's usual hesitance at questions like this.

"Because I decided it was worth remembering," it says simply.

"That almost sounds like respect," I prod. "Are you sure you're going to betray me? Does it have to end that way?"

A pause.

"I suppose," Sela hums, "that depends on you."

Well, alright. I'll interpret that charitably for now. We'll just have to see what Manumit is like, I guess.

"Hey, I don't wanna interrupt your talks," Ida says, yawning as she approaches me, "but I kind of want to head home and take a shower and shit. Fantasy land was only cool until I had to take a piss."

"...Was it actually cool up until that point?" I ask hesitantly.

"No, of course not," Ida snaps. "It sucks here, I don't even get to be a creepy spider hat. Take me home."

I chuckle and scuttle over to her, holding out a claw.

"Alright, alright," I say. "Hey, Kagiso! Helen! I'm going to send Ida back, but if I do I'll fall unconscious for an indeterminate amount of time. Is that okay?"

"Uh… it's not great," Helen answers. "Murderbot and I are both crippled, and Kagiso's weaponless."

Hmm. That's… true.

"I could uncripple you," I offer. "Well, kind of. I could finish your transformation, I mean. You'd still have to get used to a new body, but… well, it'd at least be a stronger body? And it would only speed up what was already going to happen."

"Shit," Helen swears. "Yeah. Okay. I'd be a fool to say no. Better to get used to this as soon as I can."

"Alright. Come over here with me, we don't want to hit anyone else with the spell on accident."

"...That can happen?" Helen asks hesitantly.

"Yeah, my spell is terrible. Come on."

I scuttle away from camp, letting her follow me since her limp means I don't need to be carried to keep up. It's easier now, looking at her halfway-completed body, to know what Helen is going to look like. A mix of feather and scale, my scientific inclinations warring with my appreciation for Jurassic Park. The plumage will grow in place of the hair on her head, as well as decorate her forearms and tail. The end of the tail will be particularly striking, a fan of feathers that… will she be able to feel air currents? Sense things around her? Hmm. She might have multiple new senses, partly because I've always found her to be particularly insightful and partly because I want her to understand what it's like to grapple with them. Goddess, I hope she doesn't hate me for this.

"Ready?" I ask. "This probably won't be comfortable."

"I'll deal. I'm ready," she says.

"Okay," I nod, and take a deep breath.

"Nature's Madness," the Goddess and I say, and Helen shudders as she begins to change.

We should have had her sit down first. Helen is driven to one knee as her leg spasms, losing muscle coherency as the bones twist and reshape themselves. Helen grunts in discomfort as feathers split open her skin and scales devour the rest, her tail snaking out to full length behind her. What remains of her human teeth all fall out of her gums at once, causing her to cough them onto the ground, blood briefly flowing before the wounds are replaced with newer, sharper fangs. Her fingers and toes split open, wicked claws growing out of them, much larger than my own. Her big toes, in particular, end up with a massive, curved claw, designed to grip prey and never let it escape. To my surprise, sharp spines start to emerge from her back as well, two columns of three each, piercing through the back of her new shirt and twitching slightly as new muscles grow in to control them.

Her new shirt. One of my old shirts, actually. Helen is wearing my clothes from Earth. The entire transformation is frighteningly arousing, but seeing her breasts grow to fill out my shirt and her thighs bulge with muscle to strain my shorts adds an entire extra layer of horrible, guilty joy, a film of utterly undeserved intimacy coloring the entire scene. I don't think I've ever felt more attracted to a person than I do right now, and this body doesn't even have sex organs yet! Holy cannoli and beans, I am such a gross mess.

Still kneeling on the ground, breathing heavily through her mouth, Helen takes a moment to compose herself. Her tail twitches. Her new spines fold down against her back. Her fingers clench, running her claws against the scaly palms of her hands.

"...Okay," she breathes, staring at me with golden, lizard-like eyes. "That… that was a lot."

Shakily, she stands up, trying to balance on her new legs. She takes more deep breaths. Centering herself. Moving the new parts of her body with as much purpose as she can muster.

"...Everything suddenly tastes funny," she says, still inhaling and exhaling through her mouth. "Breathing through my nose feels weird. …I don't know why I'm fixating on this. Everything is weird now. What the fuck is… what the fuck?"

I say nothing. I'm busy being aroused and weirdly jealous, and neither of those things are appropriate right now. Why can't my brain ever feel the emotions that it's supposed to feel!?

Helen starts taking her first shaky steps on her new legs, testing things out and getting a handle on her balance. I follow her, and she seems to rapidly improve as we head back to camp. Suddenly and without warning, she lashes one leg out at the cliff wall, kicking the stone at blistering speeds. With a loud smash, a foot-long crack opens up in the stone, and Helen seems none the worse for wear.

"...Geez," she mutters. "Well, that's quite an upgrade, at least. I wonder how tough these scales are."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Always the practical one, isn't she? Maybe this won't be so bad.

"Definitely going to have to bind these up, though," Helen says, poking one of her boobs. I do my best not to watch it depress around her finger, squishing tantalizingly. I pretend not to notice Helen twitch slightly as her nipple rubs against the inside of my shirt. I very, very thoroughly focus my attention elsewhere, ignoring the fact that I can't do that because I have omnidirectional x-ray vision that I can't turn off. Butter side down, I remember when I first was getting used to my spatial sense and I was constantly grossed out by seeing the inside of people's bodies all the time. Where has that gone? Why can I suddenly be aroused again!?

"...I should send Ida back now," I mutter. "Is that okay?"

"Huh? Oh. Eh, probably. Kagiso or I could carry you. I'd feel a lot better if your friend left Kagiso that weapon of hers, though."

Uh. Hmm.

"What's the holdup?" Ida asks.

"Helen wants to know if you'll give Kagiso your gun," I answer.

"What? No," Ida grunts. "I'll admit she's a crazy good shot, but there's way more to using a gun than just being able to shoot it. I… might be convinced to teach her to use a gun, I suppose, but not today. We don't even speak the same language yet and also have I mentioned that there are no bathrooms here?"

"You have," I chuckle. "Okay. Helen, Ida is in a hurry to get home and wants to properly instruct Kagiso on how to use a gun before giving her one. She's potentially open to coming back and doing that later."

"...Mmm. Fair enough," Helen says. "I guess all we can do is hope we don't get ambushed. I don't like how those chaos mages snuck up on us yesterday."

"Yeah," I say. "I'm so sorry for all the trouble, Helen. None of this awful stuff would have happened to you if not for me."

"Yeah," she says. "I know. But I also know better than to blame you, Hannah. You didn't choose to be what you are any more than I chose to be a Chaos mage. We just have to play the hand we're dealt. Plus, y'know."

She awkwardly scratches the back of her head.

"...Despite it all, I still like you," she admits. "You're my friend. One of the only friends I've ever had. I can actually trust you to watch my back, and that… it means more than you could ever know. And if you'll do that for me, I'll do that for you, too. Even if it means doing crazy bullshit like helping a Steel One."

"Yes," Kagiso chimes in. "Hannah and Helen more than friend. Hannah and Helen family."

We both look at her, the earnest grin on her face contrasting a sadness in her eyes that leaves us speechless.

"Family," she repeats. "My family. I not lose more. We go together, yes?"

What can we do other than stare at her, shocked? Helen looks like she's about to break down crying.

"Kagiso, but I…" she stammers, but she can't finish the words.

But I killed your family. I'm why you lost them. Kagiso knows, though.

"Sindri send us into traps," Kagiso says darkly. "Not blame you for setting them. Teboho die wanting to save you. That what matters."

"But I… I killed the rest of your family, too!" Helen stammers. "I'm the whole reason you two were homeless, I—"

"You," Kagiso cuts her off, "were best part of home. Always best part of home. Loved them, but I very bad daughter, I think. Will be better friend. Okay?"

Helen clenches her fists, takes a deep breath as if to say something, but then she starts to sob. Ugly and loud, she cries so suddenly and so shakily I almost wonder if she's forgotten how. It just pours out of her while she stands ramrod-straight, unable to form words. Kagiso approaches and, leaning down briefly to pick me up off the ground, she wraps the rest of her arms around Helen and squeezes her tight. Gently, I do the same. We hold each other like that, letting Helen's tears fall on us for a good minute before I can no longer ignore the way Ida's constant squirming jostles the liquid in her overfull bladder. Because, y'know, I am perpetually aware of how much pee everyone around me has inside their bodies at all times.

I carefully extract myself from the hug and head over to Ida, reaching up a limb for her to grab. She does so, and we nod at each other. I pull her through my soul, stagger over next to Sela, promptly fall unconscious, and wake up just in time to see Ida dash out the door and rush into the bathroom.

It's Monday morning. Time to get ready for school, I guess. Hmm… for the first time in a long time, I actually need to think about what I'm going to wear. It definitely needs to comply with the school dress code, since I can't give them any more excuses to kick me out for being a weirdo. I need to wear my gloves, since my fingers are blades and that's definitely against school rules and I can't use my phone without them anyway. Likewise, a normal t-shirt will do, since I can't bring my blade limbs out at school either. Hmm… shorts just above the knee should be okay, since it's crazy hot out. I am so tired of getting fabric in my knees, ugh. It's something I've just been forced to get used to but I finally won't have to deal with it anymore! Shame I still need to wear shoes, but my day-to-day shoes aren't all that bad compared to church shoes.

Wow. I'm… actually doing this, huh?

"Wait, are you wearing that today?" Ida asks, poking her head into my room as she returns from the toilet. "Are you going to school in that? You've gotta be going to school, you're way too insane to take a day off."

"Uh, yep," I nod. "I'm done hiding."

"Ohhhh Goddess, okay," Ida grins. "Y'know, I was gonna take the day off to rest on account of being sane, but fuck it, we ball. I don't wanna miss this. I'd better run home and change out of the combat gear, though. And, y'know, drop off the gun."

"Yeah, that might be bad to bring to school," I agree.

"Wh… who is… is that Ida?" my mother's sleepy voice calls out, stepping into the hallway to stare at us. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, good morning, Ms. Hiiragi," Ida says politely, affixing a perfect smile on her face as she nods to my mother in greeting. "Apologies for intruding, I'll be out of your hair in just a minute."

"...Ida," my mother greets her. She looks so tired, like she barely slept at all. "Do you know what's…?"

What's happened to my daughter. There's a haunted look on my mom's face as we stare at each other. Ida just remains smiling and nods.

"Yep, I've been helping her out as best I can. She's been really struggling, but I think getting out there and not hiding anymore will help her out a lot. I've got her back, Ms. H., I promise."

"I… thank you, Ida," my mother says, not seeming too sure how to handle any of this. It's… unlike her. She always seems so in control. But I'm sure she'll bounce back soon, probably worse than ever. I step past Ida and start heading downstairs, prompting Ida to give my mother an apologetic smile and rush down after me. I don't want to talk with my mother right now. I'm not sure I'll ever want to talk with her again, but I'll deal with that later.

"You hungry, Ida?" I ask, opening the fridge and popping a raw egg into my mouth. I don't even use my teeth to crack it, I just squeeze it between my tongue and the roof of my mouth and… pop! Delicious gooey goodness. I am really starting to love raw eggs.

"I, uh, will get some food later," Ida answers, shooting me an amused look. "I'm gonna jog over to Val's place and get my car, alright? I might be a bit late but I'll see you in first period."

"Alright," I nod. "See you there, Ida."

Swallowing my trepidation, I follow her outside, letting her jog off without indulging in the urge to chase. Instead, I head to the bus stop as normal, messaging Valerie so she knows Ida and I made it back and we're all okay. She arrives at the bus stop as well soon after, her eyebrows raised as she looks me over. Hmm… it might just be my imagination, but I feel like her face looks a little different. Just a little softer, I guess?

"Woah. We're doing this, huh?" she asks.

"We're doing this," I nod. "Notice any changes on your end?"

"Oh, uh, maybe a little," she shrugs, wiggling her gloved fingers. "I've got the claws under here, of course, but everything else is speculative. It's hard to tell because I'm already pretty hairy, but I think I might be getting more body hair? Or fur, I guess? It's not as coarse, at least."

"So you're becoming a furry," I conclude.

"...I'm not a furry," Valerie insists.

"Right. Of course. You're just going to be furry," I nod sagely. "Which is different."

"Yes. Exactly."

I grin, showing off my teeth and enjoying that I can. She smiles back. Then the bus arrives, and it's go time. One last Refresh to make sure I'm looking my best, and… whoops my hair all just fell out.

Uh.

Wow, it all just fell on the ground at once there, didn't it? Spatial sense confirms it: I am now bald as bald can be. Y'know what? Screw it, we sphere. I can own this. I shrug to Valerie and just leave my hair there, because what the heck else am I going to do with it, put it in its own baggie and store it with the teeth? We get on the bus and every eye is immediately on me. My hip-limbs are visible, though I have my blade-limbs hidden in 4D space. I don't really know anyone on the bus by name; even beyond my usual name-forgetfulness, everyone else on the bus is at least a grade below us, so I suspect they don't know me either. But they all stare at me. I smile and sit down, folding my hip-limbs over my lap.

I must look like such a freak. My skin is a very light gray, but it's still distinctly gray, not any other color. The eight extra eyes that have been growing around the circumference of my head are getting close to completing, so they look like little dark circles, all the more striking without my hair in the way. And that's not even talking about my arms and legs! Gosh, this is so weirdly thrilling and absolutely terrifying all at once.

I don't get anything more than stares on the bus, of course, because the driver does not give a crap and nobody talks to weirdos on the bus. I know my true trial will be when I get into the school itself and teachers feel the need to police me for being 'disruptive.' …And also, potentially, the actual police might police me, because we have an officer stationed at our school at all times. Which is normal here, but I feel like it shouldn't be normal. Do other countries put a police officer on permanent guard in schools? Or do they just… not have to worry as much about school shootings? I should look this up. I poke around on my phone a little.

Holy fucking shit the United States has had nearly three hundred school shootings and the runner-up country has only had eight. Eight! Compared to almost three hundred! What the actual fuck is wrong with—oh hey we're here.

I quickly put my phone and those horrifying thoughts away, stepping off the bus and into the school parking lot. More stares come my way, though it's not everyone anymore. There are too many people for all of them to actually care. Which is fine by me!

"You sure you're gonna be okay, Hannah?" Valerie asks.

"Nope!" I answer. "But I'm gonna try anyway!"

She sighs.

"...Well, you're certainly chipper, if nothing else. Good luck in class, let me know if you get kicked out."

"Will do!" I answer.

I practically skip to my first class, unable to stop myself from wiggling my hip-limbs with joyous freedom. I walk into the classroom, head for my seat like I always do, and hum some Pokémon music (the Route 42 theme, specifically) as I tap my hip-limbs on the ground to the beat. It's a short song, but it's so catchy!

"Hannah?" my teacher asks.

"Yes sir?" I respond.

"Um, what are you wearing?"

I glance down, then back up at him.

"T-shirt," I answer innocently.

"I… that's not what I meant," he sighs. "What happened to your hair?"

"It all fell out," I shrug. "Medical condition."

"...That sounds rather serious," he says. "Are you okay to be at school?"

"Oh, yes sir," I nod, giving him a too-wide smile. "Don't worry, I'm perfectly alright. Sorry about how strange I look, but I promise I'm not going to be disruptive."

He stares at me. This is the moment. He can investigate this further. He has all the information needed to know he probably should. But will he? Or will he recognize how much work that would be, judge that not having class disrupted is the main thing that matters to him, and just go about his day?

Will he stick to routine? I bet he will.

"...Alright," my teacher says. "But I'm holding you to that, Hannah."

Bingo.

"I can sit in the back, so people aren't constantly staring at me," I offer.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," he says, and then he turns back to his computer. I get up and move to the back row, suppressing a chuckle. Just be polite. Be demure. Be cooperative. And people will let you get away with a lot. This is the most fun I've had in months!

It's a thin camouflage, of course, and it'll break sooner or later. But despite the many stares, despite my mutations on display, class starts as normal. Why wouldn't it? I'm certainly not acting like there's a problem. Ida shows up ten minutes after class starts and shuffles into the last open seat—which happens to be next to mine—as I continue to tap away to the beat in my head.

"Holy shit," she whispers under her breath. "This is really happening, huh?"

I nod. I give it like, two days tops, but this will certainly be funny while it continues.

"Alright, well, as I was telling the rest of the class, Miss Kelly, today we will be doing a titration experiment," the teacher announces. "you will be determining the volume of sodium hydroxide solution of known concentration required to neutralize a known mass of an acid solution of unknown concentration. In doing so, you'll be able to determine the concentration of the acid. You'll be working in groups of three."

Ida and I shrug at each other and pair up with the closest of her goons nearby. Said goon attempts to interrogate me about my 'costume,' but when I insist it's not a costume she just says 'whatever' and we get to work. Despite being one of Ida's goons, she's actually not bad at chemistry, and the three of us make it through the lab fairly easily, leaving us with a bunch of spare time at the end of class.

"Y'know, come to think of it, I probably could have figured out the concentration way faster if we just had two empty beakers," I muse out loud.

"Oh yeah?" the goon asks. "How?"

"Uh, Hannah?" Ida asks. "You sure you wanna do this?"

"Eh, why not," I shrug. "Just rip the band-aid off, right? Pretending to still be normal is fun and all, but I bet it'll lose its luster fast."

"What are you talking about?" the goon asks. "Does this have to do with your weird getup?"

"Nope, my t-shirt is still unrelated to the situation at hand," I deny cheerfully. "Here, grab me those. This'll make pure sodium hydroxide, so be careful."

"Shit, Hannah, you're crazy," Ida says, grinning wildly. She hands me two beakers. One is the perfect receptacle for water, and the other ideal for sodium hydroxide. At least, ideal enough for my spell. I snap my fingers and let a wordless, Goddessless Refresh magically sort the solution out of one beaker and into its constituent parts in the two others. And sure enough, dry white powder streams out of the water as it flows magically from one glass to the next.

"Ta-da!" I announce. "So as we can see, the mass percent is… wait, beans. We don't have a scale. This is just the volume, and I don't know the density of sodium hydroxide powder. This is useless."

"We already know the mass percent of the sodium hydroxide anyway, Hannah," Ida says. "We're supposed to figure out the acid. Were you even paying attention?"

"Yes!" I insist. "I just got excited and picked the wrong one."

"Wh… what? How the… how did you do that?" the goon asks.

"Magic, duh," I answer, snapping a finger for showmanship as I sort the sodium hydroxide back into the water. "See?"

"How the fuck did you do that?" the goon demands, raising her voice enough to catch the teacher's attention.

"Is everything alright over there?" the teacher says in a warning tone, walking over to us. Goon just points at me and sputters incoherently.

"I was wondering if you knew the density of pure sodium hydroxide powder," I ask innocently. "So that we could determine its mass by its volume."

"...Uh," the teacher says, quirking an eyebrow. "The experiment would need to go very wrong for you to end up with any pure sodium hydroxide. That… shouldn't be possible with this setup."

"Eh, impossible things aren't that hard," I say, and re-separate the solution with another snap of my fingers. The chitin really makes a satisfying crack sound, even through my gloves. "See?"

The teacher just stares, utterly flabbergasted. Ida shakes as she tries to hold back a laugh.

"Wh… how did…?"

"Magic," I answer firmly, giving him a serious stare. "Magic is real."

He continues to stare at me. I shrug.

"...But like, so is chemistry, so we can continue learning about that instead if you want to," I allow.

There's one final beat of silence before the classroom erupts into chaos. I do feel kind of bad, in retrospect. I promised not to be disruptive, after all.