Yuri Worlds

[22] Secrets

“Miss Takano? May I have a word with you in private?”

Misaki flicked her head around but avoided doing a double take at Miss Okura‘s serious tone aimed at her. Her expression was even sharper than earlier, displaying a tightened jaw and wielding the facial presence reserved for teachers who made Franklin quiver in fear. She tried to put on an appearance of calm but was shaking worse internally than the handful of times Franklin had been pulled over by a police officer for accidentally slipping through a red light in a moment of wandering thoughts, taking the wrong turn, and rushing on an empty road.

She stood up carefully and followed the green-haired grandma around the main section and over to a side hallway. It looked at first like it might be a right turn along the edge of the building, but it was actually a left. That turn felt more natural, even though it activated a myriad of strange and confounding thoughts for her. Just coincidence that she found herself plagued by notions of hallways and corridors that should’ve gone one way when they went the other. Although this one matched exactly what she anticipated.

At the end of the turn, Miss Okura clicked on a light to reveal a door. She turned back and beckoned Misaki to approach. Her mind rattled about like an unbalanced engine as she attempted a half-hearted chuckle. She wanted to draw attention to how strange this moment felt but lacked the words and the resolve to express exactly how. Instead, she followed exactly as instructed and went inside.

The room looked similar to the traditional tea ceremony room back in the house, with tatami mats spread all over. It was sparsely furnished, with a simple table in the back and a gray computer that looked at least a decade old.

“Please, sit wherever you feel comfortable,” Miss Okura encouraged. She had no idea what to do with that suggestion. The grandmother slowly approached a cabinet recessed in a wall and pulled out two very soft-looking pillows with fancy floral prints. She held them both out in Misaki‘s direction, and Misaki considered each before accepting the one slightly closer to her. Miss Okura made a sudden, small sound through her nose, which caused Misaki to reconsider her choice. She fretted that the older woman had made an assessment of her based solely on that single action. And she continued to make it worse by motioning towards the other pillow but not giving up the original one. Though it took achingly long, Misaki eventually resolved to keep the original pillow. She slumped down in resignation and sat roughly where she stood, using the pillow for her legs.

Miss Okura watched attentively all through what Misaki considered her fiasco. Stepping over towards the center of the room, the older woman carefully positioned herself a few feet away from the wall with her pillow in a different position than Misaki had chosen. Comparing herself and Miss Okura, Misaki felt like the moisture from outside was distilling into her body in a worse, cramped reservoir than what Namiko had decided for herself. If only Yuka or anyone else were here, she knew that all these problems would go away.

“Please relax, Miss Takano. I just wanted to speak with you.”

Misaki had no control over the hyperactive little snail, and she had even less control over whatever dam and floodgates were contained beside it. But it was just human anatomy—basic human anatomy. Hold the same muscles if you need to pee. No big deal. Sure, the pathway may have been truncated and perhaps a bit obfuscated, but it was the same basic principle. However, every effort she attempted felt completely toothless. And she was running out of time.

“Excuse me. But is there a bathroom nearby?” She asked with quiet urgency. Miss Okura lifted her head and gestured faintly towards the door, explaining there was one to the left just beyond the last turn. Apologizing profusely, Misaki scrambled to her feet and hustled back out the door. She checked behind her before leaving, to see what Miss Okura was doing. The older woman looked her directly in the eye without any hint of consternation, disappointment, or anger. That was worse. She felt like she was being judged by an ancient statue that held many secrets. But she had no time to reflect on that as she rushed out.

The restroom was about the size of the one back at the house, with industrial-sized supplies set in one corner. The paper was thick and plentiful, unlike far too many bathrooms she’d encountered where such materials were more of a suggestion than an actuality. She wasted no time in relaxing on the seat as every sliver of her body shook in precise disharmony. Preoccupied with that, she went through the quiet routine of cleaning up after herself and washing her hands. It was only when the entire task was complete that she quietly mulled over the strangeness of how routine that just felt. Side effects? Or a consequence of the change? The company didn’t do mental effects. At least, that’s what they claimed.

Chika and Namiko made a big deal of using the bathroom, but they hadn’t had any troubles either. Her little anime girl stomach raised a big, grumbling ruckus, but she managed to push down its unease for now. Returning to the room at the back of the hall, Misaki found herself both surprised and having anticipated that Miss Okura remained in the same position as she had left her. The woman also barely seemed to have blinked in the meantime. Creepy statue lady.

Cordially, she asked, “Any troubles finding it? Everything all right?”

Misaki took a deep breath with her hands at her side and put on her best smile. No trouble at all. Everything was fine. She moved quickly across the room without rushing and grabbed her pillow to reposition it closer to Miss Okura. Once again, the older woman made a soft noise through her nose, which Misaki found cryptic and impossible to interpret. Judging her. She had to be judging her for some reason. Misaki quietly tried to control her breathing.

“Having a good time on your vacation so far?”

She thought about confronting the older lady. Why did she want to know? Why did she separate her from the group? What was she doing here? Instead, she just nodded and lightly confirmed. Miss Okura continued.

“You’ve met my granddaughter. She seems quite happy around you. Young Miss Sasaki enjoys your company as well. That brings me joy. But I have many questions about you and your group. I know from Kei that you will be staying for roughly two weeks. According to the documentation from those responsible for your vacation, your world has a minute difference in its quantum curvature. Your time flows differently than ours. I assume because your reality has less mass. I wonder where it went… If it ever existed. Perhaps it was random chance, a little more antimatter at the beginning of your universe’s existence than ours. There are so many differences within a world and between several. But there are also so many similarities, don’t you agree?”

Misaki felt like she lost her place in that conversation somewhere after ‘quantum’. She knew about the time thing but was surprised that this random woman had documents about them, understood all the multiverse travel stuff, and even dropped references to antimatter. Picking apart most of that didn’t seem worth it to her, even though she often managed to follow most of the technobabble that sci-fi programs articulated. Instead, she cautiously agreed and then asked, “So, you know Yuka’s mom? Did she give you stuff from the company?"

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Placing her arms at her side, Miss Okura explained, “Actually, I personally gave it to her courtesy of Yasuda Mari. She’s one of our local leaders and Travel Anywhere‘s contact in the area. She arranged everything for you, including accommodations with the Sasaki family and the itinerary for your stay here. There are many lovely places and events you should take in, but I know that she and the Sasakis didn’t want to overwhelm all of you as soon as you arrived. They’ll go over this in the evening and tomorrow morning, I’m sure. If you get the opportunity, please do give your thanks to Miss Yasuda. She did so much work behind the scenes. That’s not the topic I wanted to discuss with you. Rather, I wondered how you’re handling things with my granddaughter.”

That was a lot of information for Misaki’s brain to assemble with everything else she’d heard. Yasuda Mari. Hadn’t met her yet, but she would keep an eye out. And that explained a couple of different things. Pretty much. Maharu? Handling her? She handled her about as well as someone might standing underneath the main fuel exhaust of a rocket. Instead of saying that exact thought out loud though, she suggested that Maharu was exceptionally energetic. That earned a faint but reassuring upturn of her lip line from Miss Okura. Good sign. Hopefully.

“She does a lot of jumping around and pouncing on people because her heart is so full of love that she can’t keep it all inside. Young Miss Sasaki sometimes expresses consternation because my granddaughter is so taken with her. I have a fondness for Miss Sasaki as well. She bears a strong, lovely resemblance to my daughter. And her personality evokes my daughter-in-law’s. I miss them both dearly, even though I know Miss Sasaki can’t and shouldn't stand in for them. That’s far too much to ever ask of such a kind young girl. But it soothes the loss for my granddaughter. She will need to learn that Miss Sasaki is not her mother. She’s young, emotional, and liable to say the wrong silly thing at the wrong time. I would appreciate it if you could keep an eye out for both of them. Not to place an undue burden on you either, but I sense your words could do the most good.”

That made so much sense to Misaki, as the ambiguity everyone danced around seemed to come into focus, like how she imagined the final lens setting of an eye doctor’s appointment might be. Despite what Miss Okura said about not wanting to place a burden on her, she couldn’t escape the fact that being responsible for saying something to Yuka, if the two of them had an argument worse than the little bit of tension around the board game before, was way more than she signed up for as a responsibility on this vacation. She would still do it, or at least do what she could, but she wriggled against just being quiet. She needed more.

“What happened to her mothers?” It was an awful, personal question, but Maharu’s grandmother had pressed things this far. She needed to know.

All the softness evaporated from Miss Okura‘s eyes in an instant. The precise brown gems at the center of her vision had the honed sharpness of a drawn katana. Her brow ripped across her features, and her hair was a crafted, impenetrable helmet of war. Misaki regretted everything and gave a little squeak before attempting to formulate words. Miss Okura silenced her with her answer.

“This doesn’t leave this room. If you say a word to anyone, about anything I tell you, then you will suffer consequences you can’t even begin to imagine. More than just from your travel company, more than just from me. And upon your soul. Consider that your final warning. Are you willing to accept those consequences?”

Of course, she wanted to scream “hell no” and forget that she ever said anything. But she’d come this far. And what could it possibly be? Something embarrassing to the community? Misaki bound her will together, what she could summon of it, as though weaving a frail thread into a rope that might actually be able to support her, and definitively responded, “I am. Sorry if this opens old wounds. But if you want me to intrude, then I need to know what I’m getting into.“ Her legs and fingers practically buzzed, and it wasn’t from the numbness of choosing a bad position against the pillow, although that was there as well.

Miss Okura raised her head, as though inspecting Misaki from a slightly different angle. No strange little sound of ambiguity this time. She took a breath and sighed before lowering her head. For the first time since they met, despite none of her features actually changing, Misaki felt like the mysterious woman before her was far older than she looked. Her eyes were more distant. Her face lacked the inherent elasticity of the painterly style. And her body was a jumbled series of lines rather than the impression of a rigid bulkhead she put on.

“They were murdered. I was the one who found them afterward. And Maharu.” She needed to take a long breath.

Misaki felt her body go limp. It seemed impossible to hold herself to the pillow, as though it were the vanishing edge of a cliff, and she would soon slip over the side. Every breath felt tight. She wouldn’t say this to anyone. She couldn’t. She could scarcely imagine how Miss Okura found the words to say it to a practical stranger. Misaki wanted to apologize for ever asking her to say this. She wanted to go back and banish every ounce of her wretched curiosity. This sentiment painfully slipped out as a little more than a trembling whimper. Miss Okura raised her hand.

“It is said. It is done. Everything in our world is already written. I believe that. The path we are on was known and set before us long before we could ever imagine ourselves on it. But it is the only way. You know what words I forbid you to speak. And you know what words I encourage you to share. Your path is before you. May it protect the ones I love most dearly. Now…would you like something to drink?”

After that commanding spell of words, the question at the end bordered on comical for Misaki. She resisted the morbid urge to laugh and instead noted that she had some green tea when they first came in, but she left it behind in the other room. Miss Okura said that she would get it for her.

Misaki rubbed at her eyes and tried to find a comfortable spot for her legs. Her back was unhappy, and her breasts felt insistently present for the first time since arriving at this world. Mercifully, they weren’t as overwhelming as Namiko’s, but they still possessed an inescapable dominion over her existence.

“Here, Miss Takano. It’s still quite warm.”

Disorientation immediately hit Misaki. She expected the grandmother’s voice right in front of her, but that sound came from her right. Swiftly swiveling in that direction without locking up her knees was a struggle.

Miss Okura stood right next to her, cradling the steaming cup of green tea she had just started before the board game came out. No sound traveled through the room representing the older woman’s rise from her pillow, trek across the tatami floor, exit from the room, and return with the cup in question. This mysterious teleportation rattled Misaki so much that she was stymied into mindlessly accepting the cup and thanking her without further action.