Yuri Worlds

[105] Week

"Why did you do that?" Fiona held her hands around her head with her hair brushed back.

Yuka stretched her expression a few ways before finally settling on a slight frown. "I know. We went to war with them. We messed up their place, I cussed them out, and I swore I would get revenge. Revenge is not off the table. But a lot of people got hurt; people who fought for us died. I saw on the monitors when they fell, and I don't even want to think about what happened to the nursery. If I can make a small sacrifice to ensure their freedom and ensure things change, then that'll be worth it. I don't feel good about making a deal with them. But those fuckers treat everything like a commodity. They can torture me; they can suck me dry, but if I can protect those I care about because of that, then I can endure whatever bullshit they throw at me through my never-ending monster life. I don't know, but this seems like the only option so those I care about don't have to suffer."

Carrie flashed a sympathetic expression but still clung to a sense of wary uncertainty. Fiona and Silvia leaned back with their jaws tense but didn't say anything else about it.

Yuka puffed out a breath. "We all need to look over their contract and make sure there's nothing they'll hurt us with. Not that there's any court in any land that can hold them to it. But it's what we've got. And we've got a week; you all have a week, and I have a week. I don't want to waste a single moment of it. Show me the rest of your house. Show me your world; let's have a vacation!" She perked up and tried to channel the same sort of energy that Maharu was able to whip up effortlessly, despite her secret sadness. It was a rough imitation but a valiant effort.

They made a proper list, collecting all the really nice places in the area to show her. At least areas that existed before the flood. Limiting this week to just this world was a faint disappointment, but everything had been so transfigured that much of it seemed like an entirely different place or the other side of the world from where Yuka lived. The news still endeavored to downplay the differences and foster calm. Already, the reality of procreation in a world saturated with human energy had fragmented ideologically.

Any girl, anyone could have a baby with anyone else. For a faction, this was the most delightful discovery of this wave now finishing up across the globe. For other factions, it was the most horrible development to go with the twisting of the flesh. On the whole, a more subdued conflict than Carrie expected in the fallout of the changes.

And there was more—so much in the minutia and the details. Too much to really absorb from local television or social media. They instead focused on things around them.

Fiona learned that she had the same job as before, with all the heavy lifting required and as many smiles from her girl self as Dwight commonly shared in snapshots from work and social events. Silvia's shtick had shifted from femboy, which Yuka lamented she never got to witness, to a versatile voice actress with a highly animated Vtuber setup. Cartoon on cartoon again.

The house didn't have any fresh rooms, but the side area by the carport was made up as a relaxing den. Their counterparts had made more progress in refurbishing the separate garage, building a functional and relaxing shed beside the old tree, and enclosing sections of the rear patio. The raised, outdoor bench off to the side by the preserved doghouse turned into a planter drew Yuka's attention to curl up and sway.

The paperwork from the company hadn't arrived yet, and Fiona and Silvia opted to take Fiona's car to scout the area and check in with friends they knew from work, especially at the comic book store, where Silvia was still employed. Carrie found it remarkable that the wind was so sedate. Local gusts often compared to the flesh-stripping supernatural wind that had caught them several times in the other world. If the weather had also been affected by the watery infusion of human spirit, Carrie was at least glad that it mollified its temper tantrum tempest inklings.

She brought a pale, knit blanket from inside for them to cuddle under, even though it was more of a decorative item. Yuka gently shifted her legs to rock the hanging bench. She admitted with the others gone that the way breakfast had been cooked actually left a sour presence in her stomach, but she didn't want Fiona to feel bad about introducing her to local cuisine. Yuka gently but supportively leaned against Carrie. They kept close, but not close enough to activate the magnetic pull.

Meticulously, Yuka adjusted Carrie's hair, freeing long locks from her pink t-shirt collar. It tickled like a long, luxurious paintbrush. She adjusted Yuka's hair too.

"Did I do the wrong thing?" Yuka posed her question to no one in particular, speaking it towards the painterly clouds and the soft flutter of animated leaves.

"About the company?"

"Yeah. Fuck them. They've been controlling us for who knows how long, shaping worlds, lives, and realities just to fit their needs. But the two of us wouldn't be here if not for them, though that's a happy happenstance for us instead of any intention on their part. They tortured us, they killed others, and they've broken and twisted so many things. I have to wonder if what we know as evil and good only exists because they made them. But that would just feed their goddess complex."

Rationally, Carrie found it unlikely that these bastards were actual gods. Only human. There had to be something greater, something better, and she felt like they glimpsed that with the hopeful lingerings that felt like Maharu. Yuka fluttered with concern that those were just another trick or an illusion they wanted them to see. Carrie couldn't totally assuage that fear but lent her hope in bright feelings about the moments and the memories. They fanned away and swatted at ambitious little flying insects fattened with art and humanity, thirsty for more.

"I don't think I can go home again. Ever." Yuka shut her bright eyes and released a long breath.

She explained, "My moms might remember me, but I can't forget the fact that they could lose their memory again. It's heartbreaking once; I don't think I could endure it if it were blended with hope. My elder sister is not the girl I ever thought she was. She's complicated, but she also broke my heart. I miss Ayame, and I would like to give her a hug. And maybe I could forgive the old lady someday. I love Naoko, Kosame, and Bianca. But I'm not like them. I'm not human, or at least not the same sort of human. I don't know if that matters or not, but it makes me fuss like itchy and uncomfortable clothes."

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Carrie gently touched her hand to her back and reassured her that she was human. The wristband girls, who seemed the least human-like, made kind sacrifices; they hurried to the cause, endured great pain, and still managed to find joy. Yuka sighed.

"What if that's not how they're supposed to be? The company messed with so much. They created a hunter-and-hunted cycle of suffering out of what were once more like clouds and fountains. They shaped me, but they didn't make me. I worry about being a monster. What if I truly am one? A big black blob of carnivorous fury. An eldritch abomination, as Naoko sometimes refers to mysterious creatures. I supposedly live forever. I can't die. What if I was as bad as them before they got their hands on me? A true monster, a horror from beyond. It might be better for me to be stuck in a lab and quarantined from the bad things I might be or become. That probably doesn't make any sense, but it's what I feel and fear." She still looked deeply queasy as she huddled next to her.

"What about the fact that you are so caught up and worried about all this?" Carrie pointed out. "A godlike monster or creature of darkness would never give any of this a second thought. It wouldn't dwell on a bunch of teenage girls, cute bands of blackness, or an old woman. You do."

Yuka shifted around on the seat, tipping the bench in chaotic directions. "Then, maybe I'm a broken goddess of lost memory and forgotten vile purpose. I don't know. I don't want to be that, even if an eternity were to pass. I want to be who I choose to be, even if I don't have a real choice. What matters to me are moments—precious little moments, stupid little moments, human little moments. My big sister teasing me about a gift years ago. Holding it out of reach and proposing what it could be. Returning it to me with a joyful hug and a kiss on the forehead. It was a stuffed toy I thought I lost, but she hunted for days and weeks to find it. It's gone now, and it's such a dumb thing to remember, but I treasure that silly little moment along with so many others..." Uncomfortable burping accompanied her blurry tears as Carrie continued to rub her back and listen.

"I have such precious memories of everyone. Silly Naoko and that one comic book. Maharu and the slapping fishtails. Kosame and the dreams she's texted me about in exacting, hilarious detail. Bianka's tofu theory. Ayame and the even bigger teddy bears her moms used to collect. The weekend that I took care of the old lady's garden. And so many indescribable memories with my moms. The old tennis racket. The first writer's convention we went to together. The hungry closet. And the meal we don't talk about. I have so few years, but they are so rich. I can't forget them. I'm terrified I will, that I'll turn out some ageless beast who doesn't have anything human left."

Carrie wanted to have a laser focus and comprehension of exactly the right words to tell the girl she loved that all these fears were unfounded. That she was deeply and truly human, no matter what secret history might be locked away as darkness in another reality before she was shaped and tortured into what she is now. But she had told her all of that in so many ways. It didn't need to be said. Yuka knew her words. They didn't need repeating.

Instead, she adjusted her touch to a focused caressing, conveying what truth she could share through a subtle, tactile communication. The wobbles of the hanging bench started to resonate into a careful, focused forward motion, shifting up without rising too high and settling back without undue tension on the chains.

The fears ebbed away from her spinning thoughts as Yuka settled into a drowsy, relaxed state. She quietly mocked herself and grumbled.

Look at this great and terrible three-headed beast of unearthly legend rising from the darkest depths of an ancient realm, able to fashion anything it can imagine of itself into an unstoppable weapon with powers to survive all dangers, and all she wanted to do was conjure up a fluffy pillow and sleepily snuggle every inch of the beautiful girl she loved. She almost got up from the seat until a sneaky sunbeam fluttered across her and provided the tipping point into sleep.

Carrie stroked her hair and touched every gentle spot that wouldn't interrupt her nap.

You can be anything or anyone you decide to be. Whatever choice you make, it is your truth. It didn't really feel like the glorious epiphany that she was looking for, but Carrie found herself still thoroughly exhausted despite what sleep they were able to get last night. Maybe later some grand truth would draw together like words on the horizon she just needed to squint to catch.

The real horizon didn't have any specific truths to offer her at the moment, although that didn't mean it wasn't lovely to look at. One benefit of the human energy deluge was that it matched a regular rainstorm with the inversion layer smog dispelled with painstaking artful clarity. She could watch it all day. Mercifully, the drifting, caressing air wasn't weighed down by any sirens, anxious noises, or screams from frantic birds.

Yuka would wake soon. She knew that was coming. Questions would still flow along worry-filled rivers that she hoped didn't truly matter. Kisses would follow, frantic little touches of hope pleading to balance out the quiet by desperately grasping for every moment of love and reassurance. Fiona and Silvia would be back after that with stories that were silly, captivating, and delightful.

The contract would come, likely some immense, daunting tome full of provisos, qualifications, and more lawyer speak. Fortunately, she would marry a cute girl who was going to be an amazing lawyer. Maybe they could squeeze out a few more stipulations and concessions before Yuka had to write out 'Cerberus' on the dotted line.

After that obligation and just enough recovery, they would have a whole week, which would scream by at the speed of light. And then...

Even though they were different, softer hairs hidden beneath an army of soft ones, several nervous strands stood on end across Carrie's neck. She had an impression like a light glinting far off—golden and persistent. It reminded her of some nights when the drapes weren't nearly enough for the light twinkles from across the street. She had thought about these before, but the memory returned. If you tried to look directly at the little shimmer, you would never see it, as though it were stealthily sneaking around the edge of her lens.

This, like that, had to mean something. She just had no idea what it could possibly be.