Yuri Worlds
[18] Ayame
The girl on the other side of the counter from them looked almost like she had set her hair on fire.
It was a brilliant, flame-like shade of orange that reminded her of crystallized classic Tang. Gal had a strange fascination with the drink for about three weeks, courtesy of some random Internet meme. That preserved, semi-translucent popsicle texture fascinated her, but she did her best not to be self-conscious of how much she was staring at this random girl. It didn’t help that she was also the first individual in this place to mount a serious challenge to Namiko’s most prominent, jutting features. Still not quite on the same level, but her short-sleeved green scrub top was being put through a vigorous stress test. It wrinkled and bunched up at the base of her otherwise tiny torso before bending back out across her vast, immense, ship-worthy hips.
Misaki felt somewhat nervous that this young girl cut the kind of figure of someone out of Franklin’s teenage daydreams. That included the firebrand, exotically spicy, gorgeous hair. In contrast to that flaming brightness, her eyes were cooling respites—a pair of fair, watery blue gems similar to Naoko’s. The ‘miss’ reminder was like a tiny electrical shock. She was a girl in clothes that played up that truth. That started to make things a little woozy, but she braced herself against a side counter, steadied her legs, and showed off her wristband.
Despite keeping it on all this time, the material didn’t leave her skin clammy or discolored. No sweat patches or imprints in her flesh either. The etched display still showed the same alphanumeric information and not much else. She turned it a few different ways, and the fiery orangehead inspected it closely.
She resisted physically touching it and carefully probed the wristband with something plastic. No sparks, no reaction—nothing lit up. She questioned again if it was painful, and Misaki shrugged and noted that it didn’t seem to be. She mostly forgot it was there. But the issue of word censorship had slipped past when Yuka and her moms weren’t present. Naoko had talked with Yuka about the uncertainty of their pronouns, but they had clearly avoided the issue of pops in place of words.
Both girls raised their eyebrows when Misaki alluded to that omission. The scrubs girl asked, “So, you’re not even allowed to say what they haven’t approved of because of some information and technology trading agreement between our worlds; is that about the gist?"
Despite the ambiguity about the intent, Misaki gave a light nod, and Ayame continued, “How nightmarish and draconian! That really sucks! No wonder our government hasn’t approved outbound visitors yet if wearing something like that and not being able to say what you like is required.”
The sound of Ayame’s voice carried and bounced around the room. Following her last words, neither Misaki nor Yuka could think of what to say in response. An awkward, leaden silence overwhelmed the office, with the only interruption being the harsh buzzing of a nearby fluorescent light that was unsure if it wanted to die.
Scrubs girl inhaled several inches of her toxic-looking drink and then rummaged around the counter, picked out a little baggie, said the traditional thanks, sat at her seat a ways away from the giant teddy bear, and snacked on what appeared to be some sliced, lime-green pickled cucumbers.
After demolishing a handful, she smiled, covered her mouth before a burp, and relayed, “This is the Akechi Clinic. Oh, and I’m Miss Takamune Ayame. I’m working on being a nurse practitioner. But I’m approved to cover for any of the local doctors when they’re just too busy. Like today. If you come by tomorrow, I’m sure one of them will grace us with their divine presence. Till then, I’m pretty good too. And I am a Reiki healer with twenty years' experience.”
As Misaki listened to that, she felt cracks of confusion and uncertainty creep into her consciousness. This girl seemed really young. Even though she looked younger than Yuka, Misaki suspected she probably wasn’t, especially when taking into account her prominent physical attributes. But the twenty years' experience part made no sense. Maybe she started practicing as a child? Before Misaki’s sense of internal embarrassment could cry out for her to stop, she asked quietly, “How old are you? You seem only fourteen or so…”
Ayame swallowed what she was eating, her eyes widening in confusion. At first, they started to narrow with skeptical annoyance. But they soon bounced back in genuine surprise as they scrutinized Misaki’s body language. Yuka tipped her head and raised her eyebrows. Misaki didn’t take long to become immersed in waves of stammering embarrassment.
Moments later, Ayame nearly fell out of her chair with high, giggling laughter. She struggled to cover her mouth with a hand, but it was a hopeless cause. She pounded the table in front of her a few times, and squeaked like an old door that needed oiling. When she finally managed to catch her breath, she responded, “Oh Goddesses…hehehehehehehe oh hoho. Gonna need a moment. Wow, wow, if I look like a 14-year-old, then holy sheets, you can stuff my mouth, slap sensors on my ass and arm with whatever programming you need, and send me on a trip. Hot dang. You’re just a little bit off. Think more of a multiplier of right around three, and then you’re in the zone. And I’m old enough to not give an exact number, thank you very much. I have three kids, and one of them is in college. And I feel quite flattered by your guest, Sasaki. I’ll shove whatever we got up any space she needs it, free of charge. Not to make it weird, but that made my week. Wooo hahaha.”
Misaki didn’t know what to say after all that. She just smiled politely, a dense coloration of blush saturating her cheeks. Maybe it made sense that the Sasakis didn’t mind her and Yuka hanging out alone because the company gave her a body with distinct signs of being a teenager as well. Yuka was a teenager, right? She had no idea if the company was lying, misleading, just didn’t know the secrets of this place, or didn’t care. If this world was some sort of anime form fountain of youth, then that introduced even bigger questions about why they were just using it for tourism. Were the four of them actually secret test subjects? In a creepy, unsettling way, which helped make more sense of her terrible little dream than anything else so far.
After Ayame caught her breath and took several sips of her drink to regain her composure, she inquired if either of them needed anything from her. Yuka cleared her throat and adjusted her socks. She gave the short version of the situation with a “blemish or something else“ on her leg without delving into what Misaki mentioned. Taking a few quick notes on her phone before pulling a file from the corner cabinet, Ayame asked Yuka for a few quick medical refreshers before prepping a small exam room on the side. Yuka made it clear to her guest that she didn’t need to join her, but Misaki insisted.
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Amidst what seemed to be her usual prep, Ayame dropped teasing, playful comments about needing to get back to school to help with the culture festival and whether she was going to wear her usual nurse scrubs or a maid outfit. She also threw upperclassgirl sentiments Yuka’s way. The casual mood and jokes abated when Ayame got a light on Yuka’s leg and started to examine the area properly. A blinding LED light with a parabolic focus washed out the painterly color of her flesh. She gingerly lowered the sock in question and stared for a while at the mark. It had increased in size.
What before could be written off as a delicate bruise in the shape of a slightly spiny splash pattern now completely encircled Yuka’s limb. It looked more like the brutal results of a garter made of spikes. With her gloves on, Ayame gently palpated the skin. She murmured a few things to herself and remarked, “I was worried it might be necrotizing or gangrenous, but I’m not seeing any sign of that. Strange for a hematoma. Do you feel any discomfort at all when I push here?” She looked Yuka in the eye, but the girl shook her head sincerely and relayed that none of these weird developments had been painful. Instead, she asserted it was fine and felt, at worst, like a healing scab.
Ayame considered taking a tissue sample due to the unusual condition of the affected area but warned that it may cause undue discomfort and pain. She didn’t like the color but could detect no sign of infection through warmth or swelling. For now, she took a few pictures and asked Yuka if she wanted it wrapped, which she declined. The most she could do was offer some arnica gel, despite the lack of pain, and brief Reiki.
For this, Misaki stepped out of the room. The waiting area was still quiet and empty. The fluorescent light that had been buzzing earlier was now dark and silent. Several medical magazines hung in a plastic rack along the wall. They appeared to be disguised advertisements. But the nature of the world made them into the most unusual manga publications Misaki could imagine. Fortunately, some scattered books, travel pamphlets, and wellness guides provided plenty of entertainment infused with the tones and nature of this place. The novels, a smattering of emotional romance pieces, action, and spy intrigue, felt normal in the most surreal ways.
Even though so many names and places were unfamiliar to her, the situations sounded like anything she might’ve picked up in the mass-market paperback section of a drug store. A seasoned espionage agent dealing with the traumatic loss of a loved one is sent on a mission looking for a runaway girl, the only child of an important woman, in the mountains. Then an all-night diner farce wrapped around the employment of a young girl with animal ears living on the street. The legal thrillers particularly intrigued Misaki. They dodged around criminal activities of an intimate nature, although they sometimes touched on passion and love. Before she could skim through the text looking for obvious hints, the two of them emerged from the exam room, and Yuka rushed over to say that she was ready to head off.
Misaki stressed about whether she should be walking around with her issue, but Yuka groaned, rolled her eyes, puffed her breath, and did several adventurous leg movements to show she was limber and completely unencumbered. The frantic motions rattled around the weights and coins that secured her hemline from the tumultuous wind outside. Misaki still clung to her doubts but agreed that she seemed fine. She listened diligently to Ayame‘s instructions to watch out for if Yuka started to run a fever, looked flush, or developed any swelling in the region. All that didn’t seem to be an issue at the moment. Instead, it seemed more like Yuki was trying to put on her own version of a Maharu display that didn’t involve running for the toilet.
She was practically an inch away from using the chairs and whatever else at her disposal to do a cartwheel. She shrugged off the medical cautions to be careful but still said a proper and cheerful goodbye to Ayame before leaving. Misaki did a quick contact info trade with Ayame’s phone and hers, then hustled after Yuka.
Outside, Misaki noticed that while the wind wasn’t as intense as earlier, there was a prevailing chill infused into what wind was still blowing. It cut into her and sent a shiver and a pair of pokey, prominent impressions that plunged through the look of her dress. She immediately pulled the windbreaker close around her to try to hide this new development. But Franklin always had a terrible poker face, and this one practically squealed all her secrets. Yuka eyeballed her companion and soon got hit with a blast of cold herself.
She secured her cardigan and mused that maybe she should have accepted a wrap from Ayame, if only for the addition of another layer. Even though she had absolutely nothing to do with it, Yuka apologized for this sudden spring cold snap. Misaki let the windbreaker sweep around her and dangle far enough that just the lowest fringe of her dress was visible. Kind of defeated the purpose of wearing it, but her body didn’t care. Yuka eagerly offered up the blanket to twist around Misaki as a massive scarf, but Misaki urged her to share it. They wound up in a bound figure eight of warm coverings as they shuffled away from the clinic and towards the hills.
The looming gray in the distance had swarmed into a frosty, shifting silver mountain range spread across the sky. Checking her phone, Yuka mentioned that a rain forecast had unexpectedly popped up. She resisted apologizing for this but said that there was an amazing spot to watch the rain a little ways behind the shrine. They would have to climb up the hill, get to the entrance, head through, and then go around the side of it. But she’d done so countless times. She smirked and suggested it was one of her favorite places. Those were all the details she gave before she grabbed a firm hold of Misaki‘s hand again and led her onward.