The bronze floor beneath Lammy sank. Almost immediately, the Realistic Fiction sunlight shone in through the opening of the team ship. A fresh, fishy breeze immediately met him as the platform finished undocking.
“Whoa. Seems like a step up from Boston,” Deon remarked at their improving view beside him.
“I’m more of a city guy myself, but I guess this is home,” shrugged Otogi. His assistants had just backed away, completing his manual transformation from ‘Alan’ like they’d done in Normal Country.
Lammy leaned past the rest of Team Hiroko to catch a better glimpse. Perhaps it was his upbringing in Tailpiece, but he had to agree with his cousin: the open, spacious layout in this new place brought a clarity the bustling Boston had lacked.
But despite all the time he’d spent in Realistic Fiction Country traveling with Zayza, nothing of this area was familiar.
For one, instead of forests or icy mountain peaks, the ocean was everywhere. Its water was clearer than glass, and bluer than even the ponds back home, surrounding this perfectly circular island the ship had landed on. It was seemingly dedicated to landings and dropoffs, judging by the fact that no other structures rested here.
Only a half-dozen ‘palm trees,’ as Otogi had called them, lined the landing area where the concrete ended and the pearly white sand began. And beyond the shore, several more islands just like this spotted the steady sea in a vast circle, the furthest ones mere dots in Lammy’s vision.
Once the ship’s platform touched down and the group began shifting to depart it, Lammy could see what was unquestionably their main destination.
Thanks to his initially obstructed view, he’d registered it as some sort of distant fog or low cloud. Even now it wasn’t quite clear, but it was unavoidable: a round-walled fortress as white as the sand, surrounded by four swirled towers.
Honest Stadium, Lammy beheld.
Its curved design might as well have been the shape of a giant dessert. But more than sweets, the sight of these behemoth buildings brought Lammy thoughts of tea–namely, cinnamon tea.
He snickered to himself.
I’m here, Zayza. But it looks like I’ll be coming back someday, Lammy planned. I can’t try that cinnamon tea without you.
Squinting from the glimmer where the sun reflected against the water, he took his first steps to exit the platform. He wondered: if not for its dreary color palette, could the sea in Zayza’s home reality rival this ocean’s vibrance?
But those thoughts of Zayza twisted his gut.
When Layla contacted me, she never finished what she wanted to say, Lammy reflected for what may have been the millionth time since it happened. She mentioned Zayza had a message for me–and ONLY me.
He tried not to revisit the explosion that caused Layla to cut the magical call short. She’d remained strong, but it was so loud. Then, she never called back.
Or at least, by the time she may have tried, the team ship had already moved on from Fantasy Country and entered this reality. All of Lammy’s attempts to reach out had since failed; his pink-jeweled necklace would flicker with brief light, but peter out every time.
Both of you… are you alright?
“Time to take in the sights!” exclaimed Deon, arms out to let the beach breeze welcome him.
Lammy blinked back to the present, following as agency personnel led the team along the island. They headed away from the shore facing the looming Honest Stadium and made their way towards the other side.
Peering back, Lammy took one last glance at the colossal structures.
The event isn’t for another two days. Why did we get here so early? he pondered.
“I didn’t see any practices or meetings on Truj’s schedule,” he mentioned to his starry-eyed cousin. “Is something else happening?”
“Oh–guess I forgot to tell you,” Deon realized. “We’re doing famous people stuff.”
“Huh? Like what?”
Overhearing the exchange, Kotono joined them softly from the back of the group. Her hair and summery dress radiated the beach environment like she was an extension of it–a clear sign of Volona’s work.
“Photoshoots, p–promo videos, sponsorships…the worst parts of this job,” she regretted with a brave giggle.
“Come on–that’ll be part of the fun!” refuted Deon.
But it seemed Kotono’s list wasn’t complete. Her eyes found something ahead, and they immediately bounced to stare at the sand instead.
“Plus,” she said, “th–there’s stuff like this.”
The entourage slowed to a stop.
“There she is: my perfect orchid.”
The personnel before the team opened up to a semi-circle around a man, each taking turns to shake his hand with both of theirs. Their smiles were still stiff, but even wider than usual.
The man didn’t appear any more significant than them. In fact, he felt much less need to be formal, as his palm-tree patterned shirt and bathing shorts made perfectly clear. He laughed without a care in the world.
“Must be here to interview us,” Deon figured.
No–Lammy could tell it was more. The agency staff orbited him like moths. Besides, a whole row of bodyguards watched on from the shore.
“He’s our boss,” Kotono corrected emptily.
She brushed past the cousins in silence to approach the man. Led by Fenn, her own bodyguards emerged from her periphery to join the other ones with familiar fist-bumps and nods.
Deon leaned close to Lammy as they watched on. “I thought Credo was our boss…?”
His attempt to conceal his confusion failed. Otogi and Phillip joined from behind, Otogi’s patience with his ignorance much more evident than his teammate’s.
“Credo’s the head of the whole League,” he clarified. “This dude owns the ship we travel in, the team and coaches…basically, us.”
Ahead of them, Kotono reached the man. His arms were spread wide, but she offered a quiet hand instead. He shook it without missing a beat.
“He’s the Inoue Agency’s co-owner,” Phillip simplified.
Guiding her by the shoulder, the man directed Kotono’s attention off to the side, where a cluster of reporters waited pointing cameras at them identical to the kinds Team Hiroko had posed before in Normal Country.
Only then did Kotono lean in and accept an embrace with the man. It wasn’t like one she’d often share with Hiroko–it was stiff, angled perfectly for the reporters to get their shots.
But the hug pushed his fitted sunhat just enough to reveal a balding line of auburn hair, the same tone as one of the swirling shades in Kotono’s.
“Also,” Phillip added, “he’s Kotono’s father. Her mother is the other owner.”
Lammy couldn’t help but stare. Kotono released from her father the instant the photographers appeared to get their fill, and that didn’t seem to bother him.
“Kotono, I’m so sorry about Hiroko,” Mr. Inoue said. “I know she was a good friend to you.”
‘Good friend…’ noted Lammy. I know they kept their relationship secret, but…
Back in Hidakala during the mourning ceremony, Hiroko’s mother displayed that she probably knew about them for a long time. She had that parental intuition–a power Lammy assumed every parent had by nature.
But this man was oblivious even to the depth of their friendship.
Wait… is this the first time they’re talking about what happened?! Lammy pieced together.
Still facing the cameras, Kotono smiled. “Thanks, dad.”
That was that.
Mr. Inoue turned, his arm raising to beckon the others this time.
“Alright, let’s meet the new team! Congrats on that great win!” he chimed. “Am I gonna see us bring home two more this weekend?”
‘Us?’ What does he do? judged Lammy. Then again… I guess he’s the reason we can do any of this in the first place.
He wondered just what kind of agreement it had taken Credo to convince Mr. Inoue this lineup should be the team–and how hard it must have been to conceal his true reasoning. After all, Skrili and Phillip were new faces, and Deon was brand new. It must have seemed absurd to a big-time owner like this.
“You bet we’ll win!” promised Deon, leading the march to the owner. “Man, this is the life. It would’ve taken me and Skrili forever to travel here when it was just us. Thanks for the sweet ride!”
Mr. Inoue laughed, his heart already won over.
But as Lammy watched the two exchange particularly manly handshakes beside Kotono, it occurred to him:
Where was Skrili?
He’d become so accustomed to her silent presence beside Deon at pretty much all times, he’d assumed she was with them until now.
She finally shuffled past him from behind, the last of the team to get in line for greetings and photos as she fought to loosen the Volona-given bun in her hair.
Weird. Maybe she was busy with something, Lammy dismissed.
Yet even when the team gathered around Mr. Inoue for a group photo, Skrili stood on the opposite side from Deon.
Nope. Something’s up.
He groaned to himself. Judging by Deon’s bubbly behavior, he probably didn’t even realize something was up.
“Well, I believe we have quite a bit on the agenda today,” announced Mr. Inoue, earning nods of confirmation from his constituents. “Let me show you around the neighborhood!”
Lammy hurried to regroup with the team for their ensuing stroll. A fortress of bodyguards–Mr. Inoue’s, Kotono’s, and Otogi’s–encircled them just like they’d done with Kotono in Gloat Stadium. Now he knew how peculiar it felt on the inside: he was walking in a moving room.
Deon hurried along at the front with Mr. Inoue, still chatting away about the ship, so Lammy settled in the middle of the group amongst the others.
“You know, I thought your family would be from Fantasy Country,” Lammy pointed out to Kotono.
“My dad is, originally,” she said. “H–he has a home here, though.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“And in every other reality,” Otogi pointed out with a snicker.
Phillip’s impending judgment was somehow tangible before he’d even spoken. “Don’t you have multiple mansions across realities, too?”
“Only two: one here, one in Fiction Country,” Otogi reasoned humbly. “Sold my Horror Country one; it gave me the creeps. Oh–no offense.”
Kotono and Phillip wordlessly shared the same thought. Lammy couldn’t help but chuckle when they rolled their eyes in sync.
“What? They only have six bathrooms each. I don’t need much.”
“Mhm.”
“Sure.”
They reached what Lammy guessed was a bridge, but he couldn’t be sure with the bodyguards blocking his view of anything but the wooden surface that had replaced the sand beneath them. But since he could hear waves trickling close on both sides, he figured it was a fair assumption.
Must be a lot of fans where we’re going, Lammy figured. A break from any raving attention was always welcome in his book.
But even still, he would’ve at least liked to see where this bridge was leading them. For now, his only view was of Deon becoming Mr. Inoue’s favorite team member.
“He’s a natural at this stuff,” Otogi snickered.
Lammy shrugged. “Always has been. This was his dream before he even knew it existed.”
“Funny how that works, huh?”
A growing unease kept Lammy’s curiosity sharp. This felt as wrong as when Mr. Truj had refused to let Deon and Skrili fight together.
He checked behind him: Skrili was all the way at the back of the group, separate from the rest. She squinted around, perhaps attempting to see between the bodyguards. Then, she even glared up into the sky.
But all the while, she paid no mind to Deon’s existence.
Something is DEFINITELY up.
Ahead, Deon and Mr. Inoue’s rambunctious ramblings faded: one of the agency employees approached the owner to brief him on something.
Lammy zeroed in.
Now’s my chance.
He sped up to reach his cousin and tugged his sleeve.
“What’s up, bud? Excited to see the sights?”
Deon’s smile dulled a bit at Lammy’s sober focus.
“Uh…what’s up…?” he repeated a bit more hollowly.
“Is everything okay with you and Skrili?” Lammy checked, careful not to speak too loud.
Deon eased up, perhaps relieved that was Lammy’s only concern, and not something Proscious-related. “Oh. Yeah, we’re fine. She’s just mad at me right now.”
“Why? Did you have one of your gassy nights?”
He nearly tripped from Deon’s shove.
“Nah. Besides, she’s been sleeping on the couch lately,” Deon ruled out, lowering to a near-whisper once he remembered how close they were to the agency. “She’s just mad because she wants me to cut her hair, but I can’t.”
“Huh? That’s uh…not what I would’ve guessed.”
“Well, it’s this big, serious ritual thing for her people,” elaborated Deon. “It’s supposed to be a mom or grandmother who does it, but since they’re not around, she wants me to. Like, as the most important person in her life.”
He sighed in a heap of self-pity, allowing the beach air to begin refueling his bliss.
“Puts me in an unfair spot, you know?” he lamented. “Like, what am I supposed to do?”
“Cut her hair probably,” Lammy solved without hesitation.
“What?! I can’t!”
“Uh…why not?”
After spying on Mr. Inoue and the agency members for a moment, Deon deemed the coast was clear. He grabbed Lammy by the shoulders and spun him around.
“Look at her.”
Skrili simply walked at the back like before, still preoccupied with analyzing her environment. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, besides perhaps the flashier version of her outfit and her smoky makeup, thanks to Volona. But even that was growing normal to his eyes at this point.
“So?” Lammy uttered dispassionately.
“So she’s a babe, obviously,” Deon whispered.
Their closer teammates waved, unaware the cousins were looking past them. Lammy waved back before Deon spun him back around.
“Her look is perfect for her, Lammy. Why would I want to change what works?” Deon stressed.
“Because your girlfriend is asking you to, probably,” Lammy reasoned without hesitation.
“Nah, see, you’re young and immature, Lammy,” shrugged off Deon. “There are a lot of factors going on here. Like, we’re stars now. Think of Kotono and Otogi: they always look perfect in public. Now we’re on that level. If our faces are gonna be all over the Multiverse, I want us looking great together. You know?”
Lammy pressed his hand to his new headache. He most certainly didn’t know.
“Deon…it sounds like it’s important to her. You should just do it.”
Shaking his head, Deon let out a patient laugh. “Like I said, bud, you’re still immature. You have a lot to learn about girls,” he insisted. “Trust me, she’ll be over it in a little while.”
“If…you say so…”
He couldn’t deny his lack of experience, especially compared to Deon. Lammy could hardly even survive saying ‘hi’ to Layla after their adventures had ended.
Yet still, this didn’t feel good.
~
Several more minutes passed before the walking wall finally came to a stop. They’d returned to the sand again, and for now, that was all Lammy could gather of their destination.
Then thankfully, the guards opened up to free the team.
Lammy blinked.
Wait, we didn’t go anywhere?!
But his agitated amazement faded fast: a beachline much like the first island’s was before the team, and he quickly found it curved inward instead of out.
“Let’s test the lighting from the first angle again. I think I liked that one.”
Unfamiliar beeps sang by the water, where a group of strangers configured their cameras to follow their director’s instructions. Nearby, a stack of colorful drink cans sat waiting in the sun.
Lammy turned around, the slight shade compelling his attention. Buildings rested behind a thick line of palm trees steps away. Though made from brick, they were round like peach domes built up from the sand. The chatter of passersby reverberated from the other side of them in a steady blend, much like the ocean waves.
Compared to all the cities Lammy had visited across the Multiverse, these voices were less of a cluster and their paces seemed much less hectic–but they matched the same eager, carefree energy he’d encountered at Gloat Center. Clearly, this vicinity outside Honest Stadium was a place for relaxation and recreation. The luring scent of fried fish tempted him from a nearby grill.
But though there was clearly life and activity beyond his view, this small, enclosed shore hosted nobody else–only Team Hiroko, the Inoue Agency, and these photographers. Thanks to the surrounding trees, it was like their own private beach.
Most likely, Lammy figured, that was why they’d chosen this location.
“Kotono Inoue! Always a pleasure to work with you,” greeted the plain-dressed director.
“G–good to see you again too…”
Lammy had traveled with her long enough to recognize that tone: she didn’t remember this man at all.
“Alright, let’s get started with the seasoned vets so the newbies know what to do,” he planned. “We’ll do takes, and then stills.”
Knew it. Another photoshoot, Lammy lamented. It seemed like such a waste to use this secret spot as a backdrop and not explore or soak in its serenity.
However as it turned out, it was more than a basic photoshoot this time. With her feet in the tide and one of those canned drinks in her hand, Kotono recited a line to the cameras.
“Come on: get cooler than cool with me!”
Like a switch, she’d turned on the eloquent, charismatic version of herself that the Multiverse adored her for. Her line wrapped up in two tries–due only to a camera issue–and her poses for pictures were perfect even to the naked eye.
“That’s my perfect orchid,” cooed Mr. Inoue.
“Haha. Thanks, Dad!”
It was the same sunny tone as her line: endearing, but scripted.
Otogi’s mastery wasn’t much different, finishing his tasks nearly as fast.
“Oh! I call next!! I know my lines!”
Deon had leapt like a cat after a fly, gearing up by the cameras before the director even noticed.
“Hey, catch!”
Lammy turned his focus just in time: a can came spinning from Otogi as he exited the set to join him in the shade. Barely catching the offering, Lammy felt its icy condensation dampen his fingers.
“Ope, should’ve warned you. Sunlight turns these cans cold. That’s the selling point,” Otogi said. “I’m not huge on that flavor anymore. It’s all you.”
He cracked open the other one he’d used as a prop. A vibrant graphic of himself was on the side.
Lammy observed his own: ‘Midnight Splash,’ with a design featuring Skrili.
“Limited run of Team Hiroko cans,” Otogi explained after a sip. “They should’ve made one for you!”
Lammy readily dismissed the notion. “I bet Deon’s gonna freak out,” he chuckled.
“WHOA!! LAMMY CHECK THESE OUT!!! IT’S ME!!!!”
Once more, a can came flipping his way from the shoot. Otogi blocked it from clobbering him and dropped it into his grasp.
“Ha. You called it.”
Now Lammy held both Skrili and Deon in his hands–‘Midnight Splash’ and ‘Sunset Fire.’ With their graphics beside each other, and their colors complimentary, it looked like they were posing together.
He watched the beach in silence, where the reality of the matter appeared much different. Deon’s shoot lasted longer than the others, the director enthusiastically guiding him through the process while the team looked on–or, most of the team.
Skrili was the only outlier, even physically. She was all the way off to the side of the beach, arms crossed as she continued studying the environment, and ignoring Deon, in solitude.
Man… just cut her hair, Deon, Lammy thought hopelessly. It’s that simple.
Sighing resolutely, he turned and took a step.
Guess it’s up to me to try cleaning this up. This is like home all over again…
He departed the shade and made his way over to Skrili. Even as he drew close, she didn’t seem to take notice.
“Want one?” Lammy offered, holding up the Deon drink. “I ended up with an extra–”
“Hey Lammy. Do you notice anything?”
“Huh?”
She’d turned to him rapidly, her purple eyes sharp and focused.
“I’m looking for any signs of Proscious activity,” she said lowly. “Have you seen anything suspicious?”
“Oh. N–no,” he admitted sheepishly, his mind spinning to catch up. That was why she’d been so distant?
She’s right, though: we really should be keeping our eyes more peeled for anything. After all, they’re keeping an eye on us.
Skrili’s gaze found the ocean horizon. “Hey…can I ask you something serious?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“How do you really feel about Credo’s plan?”
Lammy pondered it for a moment. Despite her current focus on the matter, it wasn’t necessarily the question he’d expected. But like always, her words were clear and unabashed.
“Well…I guess I still don’t know enough about the Multiverse, or Proscious, to really say,” he shared earnestly. “All I know is we have access to lots of resources through him…so I’ve been doing my best to take advantage of that. Especially the training with Mr. Truj.”
Somehow without moving, Skrili seemed to grow distant. She shrank into herself.
“...Right. Sorry, Lammy. Forget I asked you that.”
“Oh. Uh…okay.”
They stood for a moment.
Lammy had never found the frequent silences between them uncomfortable–quite the opposite, actually. Given their reserved natures, he usually took solace in their joint tranquility.
But right now, this silence left him uneasy.
“Oh…you were going to ask me something,” Skrili finally recalled.
Once more, Lammy found himself studying Deon and Skrili cans in his hand. All at once, he felt foolish.
This whole time Deon, and he as a result, assumed her aloofness was due to a disagreement over hair.
But her mindset had moved on so far from that, he hadn’t even detected its depth–and more alarmingly, neither did Deon.
While Deon was playing famous, readily feeding into this secret game, Skrili was questioning its very worth.
It wasn’t that they were on different pages about the hair ritual–they were in completely different books by different authors, and Deon didn’t know it yet.
Lammy could do little but let that weight sink in.
Skrili turned to him, and he realized he still hadn’t explained himself.
“Oh…uh…it was nothing, just,” Lammy stammered, “Deon told me about the haircut thing. I was gonna say, if you want, I might be able to help talk him into it.”
It felt useless bringing it up now. But with nothing else to offer, he settled for the truth.
Skrili said nothing for a while. She seemed to retreat even further within, the beach breeze blowing her bangs across her eyes as she stared down hollowly.
“No, it’s okay…” she said.
“Wait…it is?”
At last, Skrili allowed herself to observe the shoot. Deon was making the crew crack up between takes, his smile permanently beaming.
“Even newbies know ‘cool’ when they taste it! Trust me; I’d know!”
“Good, good Deon! You’re a natural! Let’s try it with a little more sarcasm, like you’re joking with the haters.”
“Sure! Coming right up!”
Satisfied with his next attempt, the crew clapped and reconfigured for his photography portion.
“I realized…” Skrili said softly, “I may have asked the wrong person to do it.”
Her voice was so fragile, Lammy thought it might get tossed away with the breeze. It made his heart skip.
Down by the shoreline, the director waved their way. “Alright, Ms. Kay. We’re almost ready for you.”
Skrili patted Lammy’s shoulder gently. Without a word, she walked away, leaving him alone to decipher her desolate revelation.
Deon was so certain the rift between them would heal on its own. But in reality it had grown so vast so rapidly, even Lammy was shocked.
He could see it now: he was witnessing a heart begin to break in real time.
If you don’t wake up, Deon, he thought, she might slip away.
And while he hardly understood love, he knew this much for sure: they had no shot against Proscious if Deon and Skrili couldn’t act as a unit anymore.
This was much, much worse than he thought.
Not just for Deon and Skrili, but for everyone.