I awake to the sound of static. The theater screen has ceased its playback, reverting to black and white static. I stare at my hands- rather, at Mathais’ hands whom I am possessing through Aku.

“You… call that normal?” Mary mutters from next to me. “You say you’re overwhelmingly normal, with that childhood?”

“That’s only the first showing,” I answer in a murmur, staying my eyes on my hands. “Besides, isn’t there something else you want to comment on? You saw some very vivid images of your father, after all.”

“I’ll deal with that later,” she whispers. “For now, we have to think on our feet, don’t we?”

“Oh, would you two like me to leave?” Mirei prods, forcing my gaze toward her grinning figure. “I have a lot of things I’d like to say about what we just saw, as well… but I can tell when I’m unwanted. It was my choice to work alone, so I don’t mind, of course.”

She trots away toward the exit, throwing me a bittersweet smirk on the way. “See you on the outside, Aku.”

“Say, are you still JC?” Mary asks in a frank tone, still standing next to me.

“Yes, I am.”

“Prove it,” she says, wrenching my head in her direction and glaring daggers into my eyes.

“When I was driving you both in the last world… well, the rearview mirror shifted, and I saw the beauty spot on your inner thigh, due to your ripped clothes. It matched the intel your father gave m-”

I’m forced silent by an elbow, violently thrust into my gut. “Let’s decide on a plan to escape the horde of people working with Mirei,” she says in a calmer voice.

After a brief discussion, Mary follows Mirei out the exit, while I stay back. I watch her back until she passes through the exit door, and take a seat in the top row of the theatre seating. I stare at the static on the screen, pondering how the next showing will go.

If possible, I’d like to avoid it altogether, but Mirei probably won’t allow that. She’s too powerful, having acquired the strength of both the Shibutani Group and Ireland’s Finest. And then there’s Aku, and Worldbeaters.

I don’t want them to see the me in the next showing. Surely, it will display my most pathetic side. They’ll understand my normality entirely too well. I’d like them to understand, but I still don’t want them to see it. Though, perhaps it will lead to this ‘root’ of myself that Aku mentioned. All the more reason they shouldn’t see it. At least, I have to be there if they do see it.

As I sit, deep in thought, sleep suddenly comes over me, and my consciousness is ripped from Mathais’ body. Before I’m forced to return to my real body in the forest, I project into as many vines as possible, and surface just outside the theater.

Mary stands on the precipice between the theater and the grassy earth. She glares at Mirei, who hangs her head while walking calmly across the clearing, about the length of a soccer field between the theatre and the forest.

Around a hundred men in black suits outline the clearing, all pointing their guns at Mary.

“Did you really think I would go along with this?” she barks across the clearing, stopping Mirei in her tracks, and prompting me to stop my many vines from pouncing.

“Even if you were on the way to victory, we’ll never be on the same wavelength. Maybe I’m understanding all this wrong, but I don’t think you can force Aku’s power on me, choosing me to be the one to live on, if we aren’t on the same wavelength.”

Mirei takes a long breath in, and an even longer breath out, before turning her head. “I’m not as strong as you, Mary,” she says, a tinge of regret in her voice. “I want nothing more than to work with you, to rely on you. But if I do that, I’ll be throwing away the growth I experienced in my world. I want to save you with my own strength. Since it’s the last thing I’ll do, I want it to be under my own power. I hope you can respect that…”

“Mirei…” Mary responds, her voice shaking. “You’re missing the point. It just doesn’t make sense; you’re so ready to martyr yourself for me, but I’m right here….”

“I’ll force you to join wavelengths with me, if I have to,” Mirei declares confidently, turning her back to Mary as she walks toward the forest.

Suddenly, the black suits all rush toward Mary, guns raised. She stands her ground, eyeing the clearing. Just as she expects, I whip dozens of vines across the clearing, throwing countless black suits aside. Several vines reach out for Mary, who outstretches her arms readily. I pull her away as if on a ski, escaping into the forest as more vines fight off the armed men.

Maintaining my projection on vines in different locations proves difficult, but I strain myself and fight through it, bringing Mary far away from the theater. Exhausted, I release her, as most of my vines wilt. With the few vines I have left, I survey the area, confirming it as clear.

I project once more, searching north with my vines for the nearest theater. I find it in the entertainment district, surrounded by more of Mirei’s men.

My wither almost as soon as I reach the theater. I return to Mary, and quickly secure the area once more. I’m still recovering, so I can only use several vines. Mary watches me curiously from her seat atop a fallen tree as I scour the area.

“If you’re at your limit, you should just rest,” she says, raising her brow at me with a relaxed expression.

Hesitating, I return to her with only one withering vine, and place myself on the fallen tree next to her. She picks my vine up, and places it on her soft thighs, patting it gently as she chuckles through her nose.

“You know, I think I prefer this version of you,” she says, grinning weakly and looking to the side. “It must have been hard, living with so much guilt when you were just a kid. It’s hard to believe you knew my father at his lowest point, and even saw me as a child. To think we were in the same town… almost makes me wish we would have grown up together; how much simpler life could have been for both of us, you know?”

As she speaks softly, a light rain begins to fall, prompting her to look skyward. The rain mats her jet-black hair to her cheekbone, which she ignores.

“It’s even harder to believe you came to Japan for me,” she remarks, looking at me with a soft, pitiful smile. “I do wish you would have found me sooner, though…”

With her words, the rain begins to pour. As Mary tends to her soaked hair, I notice several figures approaching. Aided by the voluminous rain, it seems a few dozen suited men have snuck into the area, surrounding us.

“Ireland’s Finest…” Mary mutters, clenching her fist. “Even in a dreamworld, you sick lot are after me… why don’t you try to get girlfriends or something?”

“You’re a hot commodity in this world, too,” the man taking the lead answers in a whimsical voice. Touching his top-hat, he raises his automatic gun. “If we give you over to the Shibutani Group, the prize is even larger than it was in the real world. This time, though,” he pauses, smiling sadistically, “they’ll also pay for your lifeless body.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

As the rain pours down, I throw Mary to the ground, raising several new vines from the earth. Gunfire erupts in the small clearing, tearing my vines to pieces as I struggle to deflect each bullet and cover Mary. Each new vine puts more strain on my body, and each bullet feels realer than the last.

I want to move Mary somewhere else, but the constant barrage of gunfire demands every ounce of my attention. Sprouting new vines puts even more strain on me, forcing me to focus on making fewer vines last longer.

While I fight, I use a small vine to jot ‘run’ into the earth. Upon seeing this, Mary gives a short nod, before staggering to her feet. However, just as she turns to run in the opposite direction, a tall man appears from behind a tree, and wraps his arms around her like a snake.

Mary struggles, unable to free herself from the man’s tight grip. The man attempts to reach into his pocket, still focused on restraining her.

I must decide between maintaining my focus on deflecting the gunfire, and reaching out to dispatch the man. As exhausted as I am, I’m sure I cannot manage both. However, if I shift my focus, the gunfire will likely reach her.

The only choice is to trust her. I’ve seen her skills firsthand, so I know she stands a fair shot at coming out unscathed. But just as I think this, the man manages to withdraw a dagger from his pocket, still holding Mary hostage.

Now there truly is no choice but to come to her aid. Just as I begin to redirect one of my vines, a loud bang resounds from just outside the small clearing.

“Focus on defense!” a gruff voice barks from the direction of the gunshot.

The man who had been restraining Mary falls to the wet earth, half of his head blown away. Mary topples over as well, grasping at her rib. Gritting her teeth, she crawls to the dead man, and retrieves a pistol from his belt holster.

Just as she begins firing in between my vines at the horde of men, the bang of a rifle sounds again. One of the men are shot in the side, and then another in the head. The group begins firing blindly into the woods, taking some of their attention off of me. This allows me to go on the offensive along with Mary, taking out ten men while still deflecting the gunfire.

The group panics, and shifts their focus back to me. “Spread out!” the man in the lead shouts, prompting the several dozen men left to scatter, widening the range of fire.

I strain myself further, stretching out my vines to cover the ground. However, doing this creates several gaps, allowing a few bullets by.

“Gah!” Mary cries, the peak of her shoulder struck by a bullet.

“HOLD ON, MARY!” the gruff voice from before belts over the sound of pouring rain. A large, bearded man bearing a thick overcoat and an oversized rifle storms into the clearing, firing several shots as he barrels his way around my vines. With an ungraceful slide, he moves in front of Mary, completely blocking her from the line of fire with his massive frame.

“F-father…?” Mary mutters into his back, shock resounding in her voice. “You came for me?”

“Thank JC for leading me here,” the burly man grunts, standing firm as he fires his rifle into the crowd.

The sight reinvigorates me, allowing me to manage more vines and let fewer stray bullets past my defense.

While I defend, Kaspar attacks, felling one Irish bandit after another. After ten shots, only ten of the men remain. However, the remaining men are clearly the most skilled, moving deftly and tearing through my vines with precision.

As the strain on my body grows yet again, blood begins to splash from the stricken vines. It’s as if my very arms are being impaled over and over again. The burning sensation heightens, and my vines begin to feel weaker with every new spawn. My defense suffers as a result, and Kaspar is shot in the leg and shoulder.

“Father!” Mary shouts from behind him, desperation filling her voice like I’ve never heard before.

“Don’t worry!” Kaspar yells back, firing three shots in quick succession, each hitting their target.

“I can fight, too, Father!” Mary cries, pulling at the thick coat on his back.

“I know you can,” Kaspar responds through grit teeth, taking another bullet in his knee. “But you don’t have to fight, right now.”

His breaths grow heavier while my vines grow weaker, and he trades blows with two more men.

“Your father is here for you, finally,” he grunts, standing tall as his torso and arm leak blood. “Please, Mary… just this once, let me protect you.”

Mary cries silently, digging her head into Kaspar’s back. The sounds of gunfire begin to dwindle, as the number of enemies falls to four. All of the men have taken at least one bullet from Kaspar’s shotgun, but are continuing their assault on my vines.

Finally, Kaspar fells one of them, but takes two more shots in his arms as a result. A loud thud resounds as his shotgun hits the earth, his massive, bloodied arms laying limply at his sides.

“JC, would you do me one last favor?” Kaspar grunts, his voice labored. Immediately understanding his wish, I redirect one small vine, planting it in Kaspar’s temple. The vine cuts itself, and the newly cut end dives into Mary’s head.

A surge of memories pours through my mind, but I do my best to direct them smoothly, while defending against the remaining gunmen.

However, the memories are so strong, so clear and vibrant, that I cannot ignore them. Kaspar’s vivid memories of his life with Mary when she was little, before he fell upon hard times, strike me harder than I would have expected. The way he holds her, dancing with her playfully, invokes something within me.

Memories of their life together in Ireland flow by, filled with images of Mary skating on ice, taking professional photos, and singing in school events. So many memories fill up Kaspar’s head, it’s almost like I’m seeing every day of Mary’s young life through the eyes of her father.

Not a night passed where Kaspar did not make a piping hot meal for the two, singing and dancing merrily despite exhaustion from overwork. When she broke out into tears due to being rejected from a modeling gig, he held her tight until she stopped crying. On her birthdays, Kaspar would bake a huge strawberry cake and buy her pieces of abstract art that she was interested in, though it would always be something more luxurious than she had asked or hoped for.

The girl adored him, not because of the food or presents, but because of the time he gave her. Because of the genuine smile he wore every second he had with her, the unconditional love he had for her.

And when the memories shift to the days after Mary was taken, Kaspar no longer smiled a true smile. He would continue working hard, cooking meals, and volunteering to look for missing children. He still smiled and made small talk, but his face never regained the color it had when she was there. He spent most of his time alone praying, and researching the Shibutani Group who had hired the bandits.

Knowing he was being watched by the bandits, he made sure to keep his routine, communicating with the younger me through direct messages. However, once I finally sent him the message that declared my resounding failure, he could no longer smile. His sunken face grew even paler, and he stopped interacting with almost everybody.

He did the bare minimum to maintain a living, hardly taking care of himself. Yet, through it all, he still prayed every night, and still maintained Mary’s room, decorating it with colorful abstract art pieces that she always loved. He eventually saved up enough money to buy a brand-new house, but kept it all sealed in the account he had once started as a college fund.

Years after his last contact with the younger me, Kaspar receives a cryptic message from the present me. It notes that not much can be explained, but that there is still hope. The message urges him to come to Japan as soon as possible, declaring the bandits should have lost interest in watching him.

Kaspar puts his life on hold immediately, and books a flight. He arrives in the Shibuya ward of Tokyo, and settles in a modest inn, awaiting further instructions.

One night, he’s met at the inn’s bar by a hooded man, who hands him a note. The note explains everything about Mary’s current condition, and how I have been watching over her in the dream world. The sender demands that he be patient, not making any rash moves before he is contacted by me.

Upon finishing the note, Kaspar drops to his knees in the alley behind the bar. Declaring that there’s still hope, he repeats “thank you, God,” while bawling hysterically.

As the playback of memories end, Kaspar struggles to turn his body toward Mary. Tears streaming from her face, she wraps her arms around his large frame. He holds her tighter than ever, a vivacious grin breaking over his face.

“I’m so glad I got to see you all grown up,” he boasts, his voice shaking. “I know you’ve had it so hard, and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, that I couldn’t spend every day with you… that I was not enough as your father.”

“No…” Mary replies through sobs. “You were more than enough. You were everything.”

“I don’t deserve your kindness, my sweet girl,” he whimpers, still bearing his huge grin as he begins to slump downward.

The sound of gunfire has ceased, as I have the remaining three men pinned to the ground, using what little strength left in my vines to strangle them. Only the sound of the pouring rain accompanies Mary’s sobs as Kaspar’s bloodied body sinks toward the earth, her arms still grasped tightly around him.

“I love you… Mary…” he mutters, still grinning as his face goes pale.

“No… no…” she stammers, holding his immense body as it goes limp. “Why… ah…”

Her sobs grow into uncontrollable shrieks, and quickly evolve into ear-piercing screams. Her tears cascade onto Kaspar’s still body as her screams become deafening, drowning out even the sound of the pouring rain.

As if summoned by her screams of absolute despair, lightning pours into the forest almost synonymous to the rain. All I can see amidst the bright lights are the bandits struggling to their feet in an attempt to run away, my vines losing their strength, and the figure of Mary, still face-down, hugging her father. As the thunder cracks in unison with her screams, my vines are split into a million pieces, severing me from the girl’s cries.