Yuri Worlds

[103] Rebirth

"Wow..." Their eyes were still closed even as the effects of the wave continued onward to its next destination.

They literally kissed themselves into a new reality. Franklin knew so much had changed within and throughout, and he wanted to see it… Well, she, from the various sensations swiftly asserting themselves around her body. Yuri Worlds. Both of their worlds. Although that was the term the company used, and it felt bitter in her mind. Worlds that shared more than they realized.

She could sense when Yuka finally reached the boldness to flutter open her eyes. They met one another with first sight. Yuka looked very similar to how she usually did or was supposed to look. All the animation signatures and special flutters of life settled back into her face.

But there was more; her eyes still didn't have the unnatural span of her home world.

They were still awe-inspiringly grand, with a warm richness like milk swirling in rich cocoa. Her nose retained the peculiar depth of this reality while swarming with a deeper color palette, less pastel and more like precise oil art shades. Still anime, clearly, but the kind that shifted from an expert, gorgeous weekly presentation to a rare, detailed filmic experience. And the rest of the world around them abided the same traits.

Night had slipped back its subduing cover upon the traits of the world. The buzzing street lamps swamped the dull tones with brisk exaggerations. But there was a luminescence that pervaded the landscape like glow-in-the-dark paint with the traces and accents of their true colors. Franklin still resisted checking on herself even as her new, restored forever name tickled at the edges of her consciousness.

Guy stood beside her folding chair, gripping the back of it, practically frozen, and looking down at herself. She got hit hard. Her poor little sister and the support she likely now needed.

Instead of purple-tinted hair, her locks had returned to a similar brown shade. It was slightly darker, even when accounting for the current light, and lacked the distinct curls that clustered around her once femboyish shoulders. She had been granted an outfit of light and bright pink with a simple sleeved top and a pleated, flowing skirt. Her yukata was nowhere to be found. It was hard to say if she was as big or bigger than Namiko had been, but she was close. She was up there with the personal watermelons they would buy that came in a two-pack, and Guy would slyly hold them up against his chest. Now, her arms provided a brace of support, and her melons couldn't be put away.

Her expression contained surprise and uncertainty, not alarm, fear, or regret. They hadn't been transformed; they had been restored, the light, dull lines and tones of their lives splashed with a deeper palette, filling in all the empty spaces and bringing back what should've been there all along.

Dwight stood by her car and inspected her arms. She looked classically pretty to Franklin's eyes, reminiscent of a last-century siren lounge singer with her dark swoop of long silken hair favoring the left side of her head. She hadn't been cut short or small when it came to the feature she favored most in the other world, but there was definitely a downgrade toward a more reasonable scope.

She had a clear and flowing shape, situated comfortably beneath the dipping neckline of her blue top, which continued with her snug jeans wrapped around her broad hips. Dwight wore a look of wariness, but also without signs of fear. Her full lips and vast blue eyes bore small traces of the bearded man she had been. And she certainly didn't look slight with the full, rigid, ropey cut to her polished, slim, but clearly still powerful arms. Her friend and little sister regarded her with heightened curiosity, clearly hunting for some sign in Franklin's fresh features of how they looked to her.

Looking down revealed plenty about her fate. A black T-shirt with short, slim sleeves slipped over her upper half. Considering the partial host within, it felt oddly appropriate. Her jeans were of a similar cut to Dwight's; there just seemed to be less of her to contain. She was small—so freaking small—except for where she shared characteristics with her little sister in not-so-little ways. Mercifully, she hadn't been gifted in her true life with the same or anything close to Namiko's boulders or Silvia's bursting bevy, but she well earned her place as a runner-up. This was her? This would be her for the rest of her life?

She didn't anticipate uncertainty or dysphoria about the recrafted contours of her body. More, it felt like slipping off a weird costume after an interminable amount of time. This was just her; as unfamiliar as it may have felt due to deprivation, this was her body. She was Carrie Francesca, although Franklin and Misaki both earned fond feelings as names. Saying a simple goodbye to them wasn't possible. They were each and all a part of her as much as any heart beneath her skin she was born with or that had been put there by nefarious hands.

Yuka traced her fingers over her carefully and asked if she was all right. The rubber band whipping of shapes, perceptions, and being over the last hour or so wasn't the most pleasant trip of self, but where they landed was preferable to further traversal.

Walking in the altered landscape of reality presented more adjustments, similar to wearing a fresh prescription of glasses that heightened but also cast an unreal sharpening of reality. Nothing quite felt like the proportion, color, or structure that it was supposed to be, while clearly now closer to what it always should've been.

Once again, they needed Yuka's stretchy efforts to slip a flat, dark limb under the door and turn the deadbolt to let them inside. Seeing their familiar home space rendered in meticulous, artistic oil paint and pen deserved several solid seconds of inspection and contemplation before they treated it like home.

It was still very much their house—not a Japanese animated translation of that house but rather a special anime art realization of that space. Yuka's attention settled on nagging areas of clutter and disorganization shoved to the side despite the best efforts of the trio to handle them most days. Franklin adjusted a few things, even though Yuka assured her that it was no big deal.

She focused instead on the fact that the house felt much more spacious compared to hers, even though they shared similar shapes. The front room and part studio for Gal Hotner recordings still existed, even though they could already see the branding had shifted to Silvia Says.

Franklin found the funniest addition, a little circular cartoon on the wall with librarian glasses and a figure played up to Jessica Rabbit levels. A cartoon with cartoonish proportions in a cartoon-infused world. She did her best not to tease her little sister too much about the design. Franklin had a hunch that she got teased plenty for it. Silvia blushed at first but also gleefully owned the design, posing the same way before it, planting a pair of prop glasses from the shelf on her face, and striking the same bust-pushing pose.

"Twins!" Franklin gleefully declared. It was good to have a quiet moment to breathe. Yuka did her best to join in, but Franklin could tell her mind was an intangible, razor-thin distance away in her home reality, wondering how the rebellion, the recovery, the aftermath, everyone else she cared about, and so many uncertainties had played out since their escape. They both knew she could see exactly what was going on, but considering that was exactly what the company desired, she couldn't risk it.

To take her mind off that, Yuka urged the girl she loved into the nearest bathroom to check out how she looked now. Two of the bathrooms had mirrors propped up against the wall, but the nearest was the biggest.

Franklin stumbled way more than she intended, especially considering she didn't have a problem with her limbs or weight distribution. There was definitely more weight in certain places than others. But her pants were a secure fit, and her shoes, which she'd forgotten to remove, didn't hurt, despite being incredibly similar to the ones she sometimes wore with the heel crunched down enough to jab her.

Seeing Carrie's reflection sent a powerful, electric tingle through her. This was her. Her and Franklin's hair were strikingly similar; Carrie's was maybe a little bit darker. And she was so tiny. Well, not absurdly tiny, but so tiny against her expectations. This didn't feel wrong. Franklin had large, strikingly broad, manly hands that he used one last time to support the girls in the tank room. Now they were so small. Not elegant, not flush with feminine splendor, although also not boyishly weird against the rest of her body.

Her face and features left the clearest impression. Franklin projected a sense of perpetual glumness from his bulky shape to his worry-knotted neck, unnaturally worn William H. Macy aspects, and desperately unflattering nose. Carrie could be that man's daughter. Everything was gently smoothed out, although untraditionally shaped. Her chin jutted sharper than she wanted, and her limbs practically had a monkey's span ready to climb tree branches. And she retained that soft sadness, her eyes highlighted and traced with serious emphasis. She thought she looked downright gothic and grumbled as much to Yuka.

Stolen story; please report.

"Well, then we've gotta give you a makeover and see what look makes you happiest. I think you're so beautiful. You were beautiful the moment I welcomed you to my world, beautiful with every touch we've shared, and seeing the beautiful boy you could be. I'm sad I didn't get to see more. Still, I love every single moment since your wonderful kiss. I'm not gonna play favorites, but I think you're super snuggly right now too." She demonstrated this by wrapping her arms around Carrie's girlish waist and teasing her for being so much more beautiful than she could ever imagine of herself.

Carrie swiftly shot back by pointing out how amazing Yuka's boobs were in the reality of this world. She was so embarrassed to look at their splendor and yet couldn't turn away as a man or now as a girl who had "several features of note". They didn't compare to Yuka's beauty. Swarms of softly spinning compliments, matched by loving teases and playful prodding, danced through the air like sugarplum fairies of emotion.

Yuka made absolutely certain that the bathroom was tidy and organized with all the altered accoutrements of Carrie's life. The other bathroom was clearly intended for Silvia and Fiona. Grabbing the best brush available, Yuka made her weak in the knees with a luxurious, perfect caress of her hair. It wasn't long before they were all over each other with nervous, delighted, and fervent touches.

The bedroom, to the left, of course, was just as thrown together. Yuka swiftly did her duty by making it look even better than her own. Carrie still had a job on the computer in the corner. It wasn't customer service anymore but rather technical book editing, with several projects marked with stages of progress along with reports from assistant editors she managed and creative efforts on the side. She could figure all that out later; she was still only halfway through her vacation, after all.

Anxious, string-like reminders of what may be going on and ongoing beyond this quiet house tugged at them both to rush back to the north and sift through whatever wreckage there may be of Travel Anywhere. The mournful wail of a passing emergency vehicle didn't portend anything but that some things remained the same despite all the changes.

They had so much to do, so much to take care of, and so much to fret about. But just sitting together on the bed, with no emergency or danger looming above them, drew their eyes shut and their bodies carefully close to finish and extend their earlier awkward nap, with the restful blanket of darkness replacing the scalding authority of light. If the others checked on them, a mention or a presence escaped their tired, drifting thoughts.

Sometime later, twinkles of light washed through the curtains like refracted water. It took several uncertain moments for Carrie to be the first to rise from the bedsheets. She puzzled over the world presented to her. This wasn't the resort because the bed was too high. And that wasn't the ceiling of the Sasaki house. Innately, she could also tell that it wasn't and couldn't be home because of the fluid and flowing bright visuals of anime pen marks. But it had to be her room because everything fit. A soft, girlish groan issued from beside her, and a slender, careful arm probed for hers.

Sleepy Yuka, with disheveled locks and little squints, happily found her. They bumped heads with a giggle and leaned warmly into each other, even though they both felt like roaring fireballs of trapped heat from the sun beading through and the covers too close. Cleaning off the fan and letting it go at a good clip solved that. But now that they were loosely conscious with aspects of awareness, both of them wanted to see the transfigured world in broad daylight or whatever counted as day at this time.

Yuka pouted with disappointment about the shower layout. Sitting and showering was preferable, but she accepted standing so long as they could do it together.

Before that, they found that the others were up. Silvia was flipping through her own, altered streaming schedule and making judicious cuts and changes for her return next week. The news hinted at mass visual hallucinations due to a chemical plant discharge, advising everyone to stay indoors, not that that would matter.

The amount of normalcy instead of chaos was surprising. Silvia already had theories about all this stuff having the same perception-shifting effects as what the company served up in light and dark varieties. Breakfast would be ready soon, and Yuka raised her eyebrows at the ingredients involved in an "American" breakfast, but she promised to at least try it once.

Opening up the front door was like Christmas morning and a day home from school due to snow. The world outside felt breathtakingly special. From tracing their feet along the pavement to seeing the glinting reflections of the leaves as light spring breezes danced the light into a thousand precious sparking shapes.

Yuka had plenty to say about the makeshift structure of the lawn and the close but inhospitable layout of the houses. She was flummoxed that saying hello to your neighbors was a bizarre activity. Her friendliness was easily explainable as a side effect of whatever occurred last night to make everything look all trippy, according to the older lady with puffy gray hair at the end of the block. She had traces of smoothing like Miss Okura but still subtly wore her age.

The colorful, glittering cars streaming on the road with Monday morning routines to get to also earned a raised eyebrow from Yuka. The graffiti was mostly gone, with complicated street art filling its place. The land was greener and held a rustling, vibrant bloom of spring energy suffused with a blinding radiance that merely licked the surface of this world. Perhaps in time, the full flower would bloom when it swelled into the earth and soul of all things. Their walk was full of quiet, whispering uncertainties but also brimming with idealistic possibilities.

They arrived back with far too much sweat clinging to their clothes and opted for a quick shower before breakfast. Silvia and Fiona expressively wiggled their eyebrows, and Carrie offered a comfortable change of clothes for Yuka afterward. One fortunate find was a set of spare keys.

Though the showering conditions were less than ideal, the two of them made the most of it, sliding, slipping, and shifting their limbs as though engaged in a careful dance that only they would ever see. At a lull in the hot water, where the warmth of puffing steam whitely shading the air diminished and laughing sniffles drifted away, they looked into each other's eyes and found a perfect harmony of quiet, singing trust.

Carrie expected to feel the boundaries between them melt as she spun in the lure and thrall of magnetic love. But that wasn't what happened. Instead of part of her seeking to be with Yuka, a small but precious shard of the rich, chocolatey, electric, watery, indescribable, shy, rejuvenating core of her partner's essence traveled to her. Shared and given forever. All she had to do was accept.

Gladly. Without a second thought. Without a doubt and with all hope. It was so warm when it touched her soul and burrowed to join with the rest of its sister. That was a strange and surreal feeling; they didn't talk about it, but they danced in the twists of love until they finished up and dried. After dressing, Yuka took a few inhales through her nostrils at the smokey completion of breakfast. Despite her skeptical expression, she seemed quite delighted, humble, and happy to partake.

The eggs were the fastest and easiest to enjoy. The other items took a little longer with their presentation, but she at least sampled everything from the potatoes to the ham and French toast. When the plates started to clear afterwards and questions of what happened now began to form on their tongues, the front doorbell gave a pair of casual rings with the screen door swinging open.

Fiona put her cooking apron away and hurried to check what it was. Silence followed from the hallway. The same happened when Silvia opted to go check on her. Yuka and Carrie glanced at one another in confusion and leaned to try to see what was happening at the front of the house. Carrie's first, fearful inkling was that the freezing power the company wielded against those they cared about had returned. Despite everything, she knew that Silvia and Fiona had retained the little smudgy, dark buttons she had given them as protection.

Eventually, they could hear Fiona release a long breath and solemnly say, "I'm sorry. You both should probably come to the door. It's… It's important."

Swiftly getting up from their chairs, Fiona had the door cracked open wide enough to see outside, with Silvia looking like she wanted to punch as hard as she could through the opening and destroy whatever was on the other side.

Right in front of the doorway stood a calmly smiling Maharu, her arms casually folded behind her and her ears hidden beneath a black hat.

"There you are. You two had quite an evening at the company's expense. I hope you're both well and rested because we have a lot to discuss this morning. And I have a deal to offer...."