Yuri Worlds

[40] Left

Mere words felt like frail traces of hope. Tears were less than screaming into a raging storm. Pleading died in her throat. Yuka knew she had to get through to Misaki, but what more could she possibly say that would have meaning? She searched the fragments of their conversation last night and what other pieces those accursed wristbands would allow her to keep.

The girl in front of her, who was actually a boy, believed in creatures from space and furry beasts of the forest. She often got scared and saw things she didn’t tell Yuka about. She was so shy about getting naked. Her skin had to be so fresh and raw across her body. It was really cute. She was someone for whom simply being a girl was an adventure.

Parents. They also talked about parents. And there was something, something clear in all the words.

“Left. Your mind keeps thinking that you should take a left when you have to go right in your house. It’s all backwards. It’s wrong. You aren’t who you think you are. Please, come back to me…”

Hope and will. That was really all she had. No real power against unknown, mysterious forces that wanted to make her think and feel a certain way. Why couldn’t she do anything? Just a slimy, gross, broken thing, a wretched monster in the dark. She had to be more. She had to have the strength to bring things together, to fix what was broken, to mend the pain, to end the way things were now, and bring about a better future. Please! Goddess! Anyone! Help…

What emerged was small, barely a flake of coal, but like the first spark of an ember, a shivering girl ancient ages ago in a cave struggled to nurture. The first light, the first idea blazing from human ingenuity. She couldn’t just be imagining it. It had to be there. Something sparkled from her, and it traveled with urgent promise. Come on!

The changes were subtle but bloomed with sharp brilliance. The lines of Misaki‘s body, exaggerated beyond where they should’ve fallen, distorted, leveled out. The erupting plush settled, like a healing bee sting. The blindly beaming light in her eyes returned to the ambiguous glow she loved. Not a perfect girl, not an overwhelming girl, and probably not a girl at all. But this was her friend, with her pleasant figure, nervous disposition, and frantic need to do so much. She was beautiful beyond measure. Yuka wrapped her up tight and trembled with relief.

Side effects were the phrase du jour. Yuka gleaned that from Misaki and saying it provided the simplest explanation to whoever asked. Everything else could easily be written off as teen girl drama. Questions about why Misaki was acting so energetic, and her physical features appeared so different could probably be answered by Naoko’s drug theory, but they settled more comfortably into the niche of being a quirk in how universes interacted with one another. Shrug. You just can’t explain it!

Misaki understood everything that she had done since waking up, even though certain elements felt like someone else was in charge and she was in a weird dreaming state. But the oddest element, the one that she kept to herself, was a spell she shared with Yuka.

When someone else took over for her inside her own body, this so-called Carrie Francesca Fowler, it was like she migrated over to Yuka and rode along with the roller coaster of her uncertainty. Not every thought was available to her, but the heavy emotions, the panic, and the urgent need to plumb the depths of their experience and express something that would bring Misaki back, indwelled her. Like a broadcast signal of Yuka. Sasaki Wi-Fi. Strange blended in with lots of other strangeness. The only thing that really felt normal was Yasha's piercing annoyance at the whole situation.

Over the bold outfit that her Carrie alter ego selected, Misaki slipped on a windbreaker and sports pants borrowed from Yuka. Sharing clothes. She had toyed with the prospect last night, and the reality bumped her heart rate, but they were relatively generic clothes. The craziness underneath waved more girly flags.

The walk to the park area was familiar with a dose of the new as they passed where they first arrived in the region and continued to a lovely park stretching along a straight road. The afterimages of fog lingered around the horizon and simplified the scope of the landscape. Looming clouds in the distance undulated like fake mountains from a revealed sky kingdom. That sounded like a notion Maharu would’ve delighted in. Something to add to her playful, constructed mythology of the world around her.

They joined a large exercise group composed of girls and ladies with especially feathered eyebrows. Despite all appearing at prime age, some moved a little slower and had to stretch carefully before beginning. The actual exercise routine included majestic music with serene, soaring overtones. Misaki watched her balance since she still didn’t quite feel on an even keel yet. Her mouth was starting to feel better though. She spotted a pregnant girl doing a reduced version off to the side.

Little snippets of conversation filled the lulls between exercise positions. Ladies caught up on the most recent gossip, reminded one another about recipes, chimed in about plans, and a cluster paid attention to them with vibrant curiosity. She could get used to this. Still not imagining staying permanently because of many unknowns. But there were so many reasons to come back as soon as possible.

Breakfast afterwards was a frantic flash as each of the schoolgirls and others had their own trajectory to fly in. Yuka made sure that she took as much time as possible to hug and hold Misaki before leaving. Washing up and travel prep were mercifully uneventful. Chika and Namiko begged for some sort of explanation for the whiplash transformation that befell their friend in the morning, but Misaki had no idea what to say except that Yuka brought her back.

Chika squeezed her phone tight and deftly spun a fury of angry auto-complete words about what happened, mixed with bubbling rage about recent events. She stopped short of calling into question the birth circumstances and anatomical composition of those who ran the company, but just short of it. Unveiled threats to lay out the equivalent of saturation bombing on an unheard-of Internet scale, courtesy of her fans and followers, boiled through her missive.

Sending four additional, lengthy variations on the same eruption of disgust probably didn’t count for much in the automated waste bin of the company, but it made Chika feel better. They made it clear to their hosts that they had no quarrel with them. Kei wrung her hands and adjusted her hair nervously while Fuyuki sent several urgent messages to Mari, snacked on crunchy vegetables, and tried to distract herself.

The question of what to do now loomed. They could wait on answers, which were unlikely to come promptly, and burn through their vacation brewing and stewing. But there were castles out there to see, art festivals, picturesque walks, ryokan reservations, and so much more. It was an easy call to just keep an ear out and pack extra batteries for the phones.

They were headed in the opposite direction from yesterday, towards a historical district near the center of the prefecture. The art festival was the first stop since it was only on for a limited time. Sections of it were hosted in volunteer houses with precious pieces strung on the walls. Others were just set along the roadside. They marveled at the trust involved. No girl would steal these priceless works; no girl would dare. For all the negatives that Yuka might cite about her world, there were still plenty of advantages.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Chika collected precious footage of art that practically no one outside of their world had ever seen. The wood carvings were especially unique, bearing strange qualities to the smoothing and composition, which made Misaki’s memories of a long ago art history elective bubble to the surface. The surreal realism of even the most avant-garde pieces clashed with the inherent artistic aesthetic of the world. Knowing they were unlikely to make a second trek to this event, Chika made certain that the best of her footage was backed up more than one way. They captured a lot, but an even greater proportion eluded them as further art trails snaked into the hills and culminated at the nearest peak.

After lunch, they took another train to a nearby park celebrated for having the most docile and curious deer in the world. Their Japan had a version, but this one was distinct. Only does and girls to greet them. The wildlife wandered among anxious travelers and relaxed townspeople. Their ears scanned the air like an extra pair of eyes. Feeding them was deliriously fun, and realized more lingering princess daydreams for Chika than Guy or Gal would ever admit to. Namiko, more than once, unintentionally shocked nature into running away from her giant “milkers”. She accepted this as a symbol of pride.

Misaki mulled over what a visit to this place would be like with Yuka. She'd tell her more about what bucks and stags were like and surely bring a beaming smile to her face. She would have to take her wristband off again, but that felt like a small risk compared to the immense opportunity to share an entire world with the one she loved. Loved. Yeah. She loved Yuka.

No matter what age thing existed, and age and time were a twist of bewildering concepts around here. No matter that they had only known each other for a few days. No matter the reality-breaking weirdness, monsters, and whatever else might seek to drive them apart. No matter that it was an impossible relationship with the looming threat of melting away or inflating into some clothes horse ditz. Yuka would be there for her, and Misaki would be there for Yuka. Whatever she needed, whatever dark forces attempted to fall across their lives. They would stand together, and it would be okay. The overconfident notions of sweet, pristine love.

After the deer, they did a local city walk focusing on older eras. The warring goddesses time was only lightly touched upon, but Misaki still managed to glean the broad cultural strokes. It began several centuries ago with the Onion War, which sounded more innocent than it actually was.

The matriarchal hegemony dissolved, and whatever believers in powerful spirits or rising goddesses were eager to throw their weight into the power struggle. Sisters turned against one another. It was bloody but also gave rise to several romantic forms in the literature. Tragic stories of love with powerful figures on the cusp of success before betrayal or random happenstance ultimately fell them. All girl harems had historical relevance. Chika‘s mind swarmed with possibilities for the shows that had to be out there.

Naginatas held the same mystical allure as samurai swords, and the latter were more of a footnote in this version of history. Some fragments of an imagined manly form existed with certain styles of art, which Misaki reminded herself to ask Yuka about later. That appeared to fall somewhere between their postulation of chuusei, monks, and eunuchs. Still more of a speculative form than a historical group they could seek out for comparison.

Delving into the core details of the warring goddesses occupied much of Misaki’s afternoon as the others led her along. Once again, the legends preserved came down to love with a tragic twist. The goddess seeker Mayumi adopted a young girl living on the streets with a ferocious blade and a devoted heart. Learned and wise, Mayumi taught the child through song, melodies basking in knowledge kept alive to the present day and still highly useful in educating young girls on aspects of nature, life, and the world. She found them quite clever, intricate, and tenacious earworms, which she struggled to free herself from after humming a few times.

It was a time of war, but Mayumi also fostered peace through alliances and skill. One-on-one challenges as proof of divine providence. Her patron goddess held back the rain so it would only fall on their enemies. Several of these miracles were documented and shown as spiritual proof. But all did not end well for Mayumi and those she loved. In the middle of the night, in the back, an assassin wounded the young girl that Mayumi cared for so deeply. Everyone struggled to save her, but it was not to be.

In her grief, in her wailing agony, and in the rage that made her a demon beyond measure across the land, Mayumi hardened her heart and sealed her soul with hot blood. Through her pain and her blade, the fragmented confederation of goddess states was bound together by a single will. Peace was forged, but at a heartbreaking cost and with an iron fist. Mayumi‘s lovers turned away from her. Her friends deserted her or fell to her anger. She never smiled again. Typically tragic and beautifully poetic, even though she was just getting the frailest survey of the history.

Despite the dry composition of the account, Misaki felt moved by the tale. Works of fiction and in-depth historical accounts likely gave the events more flavor, but it was easy for her to fill in the gaps.

The day receded from them with increasing speed. Tomorrow would be the resort, followed by more things speeding away from their attention. Every single moment existed as a work of art. Being dunked in it each second dulled the senses to that simple majesty. Misaki looked forward to the mini, fundraising shrine festival most of all. It likely wouldn’t compare to so many others stretched across the land or set for later dates, but it would be with the girls they knew and a place they were becoming familiar with. That made it truly special.

So many and so few days ahead. So many possibilities yet, and so many passed. Such terrifying things and such beauty. She couldn’t wait to see Yuka again and share a dozen gleaming thoughts. Wrap her up in the kind of renewing, resilient, and unrelenting love that saved her from vanishing beneath the tyranny of the wristband. Share in simple joys. Maybe just sit in the indoor-outdoor garden and let happy thoughts bloom. So much ahead. But it would also soon be passed. Inevitably, she would have to say goodbye to Yuka and all the friends she made here. She just couldn’t stay.

But they might return someday. Or they might not. Now was all they had; these few days she wanted to portion out so sparingly as they burned through their lives faster, with the weird time shenanigans, than they could even comprehend. And there was something else.

A notion gnawed at Misaki‘s thoughts, like a claw probing the back of her brain. Something was coming. As sharply as she felt the omen from the shrine, not knowing what that meant either, a warning bell refused to be silent. She couldn’t hold it back; none of them could. And, when it arrived, nothing would ever be the same again.