Yuri Worlds

[47] Recovery

Despite feeling monumentally exhausted on all levels, Misaki still had enough energy to stress about all manner of theoretical, supernatural spooks lingering around them in the darkness.

Maharu, when she was able to recover to coherence, admitted that much of that spooky aura was likely her fault. She strategically planted all sorts of unsettling things around the hotel, ranging from carefully hidden humanoid posters covered in faint traces of bio-luminescent paint to infrasound recordings with random spooky noises to keep most girls away. That both explained a couple of things to Misaki while leaving other notions inscrutable. Slipping over to her rollout bed, Maharu unveiled further truths.

“This was the last place we stayed as a family, the night before. It used to be so beautiful. My moms would often stay here way before I was born, at the height of its time as a fancy place. Those days were long past when I visited with my family. Kei and Fuyuki only had a small sliver of the downstairs renovated for any kind of use. I was so young and eager to see all the secret little places. This spot upstairs was my favorite nook. Right here.” She drew her arms in semicircles around the spot where the futon was rolled out.

Misaki listened attentively as the girl reminisced. All the cozy details spilled out, leaving slivers of what existed before. Precious patterns. Dainty aromas. Clinging tussles of warm wafts and prying chill breezes. Everything was in balance then. Her hopes festered that if she just came here long enough and at the right times, she might catch a leftover glimmer of that night and that life. Before Misaki could say anything else, Maharu bowed her head and acknowledged the truth.

“I need to live. Not hide in the past. That murderer is still out there, but if my life is guided by them, then I’m already dead. It’s hard… It’s so very hard to think of a different life. But I’m gonna try. For my moms. For myself. To be more myself. Try not to strangle and slam everyone I love because I’m so scared they might vanish forever too.” Despite that promise, her arms forcefully slammed into the floor, and it was a minor miracle it didn’t split open right there. Misaki assured her quietly, while watching to make sure the floor wasn’t about to give way, that Maharu could slam, strangle, and sumo move her whenever she wanted, and it was fine.

Maharu took her up on that and grabbed Misaki firmly, in a vaguely threatening hold, and asked, “Are you going to make mommy sad? You’re only visiting for another week. Then you’ll be gone. Maybe forever. You need to marry mommy when she finishes school, have lots of baby girls together, and live happily ever after. I won’t accept anything less.” Serenity passed over Maharu’s features but also conveyed sharpened adamance, which strongly implied to Misaki that the girl was not beyond at least a little bit of violence when it came to Yuka’s happiness.

“I will be back. I won’t forget about her or about any of you. I can’t. You’ve all changed my life.”

That wasn’t quite the unambiguous commitment the girl was hoping for, but she accepted it with a restrained squeeze that avoided cracking any bones in her back. Misaki helped Maharu gather her things into her big hiking bag. As far as the knife, Maharu urged her to keep it or return it to Yasha. She didn’t mind one way or the other, and she calmly and faithfully turned her back on the implement.

The girls remained close as they walked through the darkened hall to the stairs. Before descending, Misaki took one more look around. She regretted that choice as two red points of light shimmered out at her in the frame of a small but striking human shape. Reminding herself that Maharu put out all sorts of deterrents didn’t help. Especially because she was absolutely certain that this figure moved and that it wasn’t just a trick of shadow. She could only pause for a moment to double-check inconclusively before she couldn’t see it anymore.

Relief flooded Misaki the moment they were through the entrance door and outside. Maharu started toward the road. Misaki gestured towards the house and urged her to come with her. She and Yuka could talk about so many things they left unsaid. Maharu sighed and shook her head.

“Mommy needs her sleep, and so do you. It’s a great big day tomorrow. I need to walk for a little while and think. I might pray at the shrine. But I’ll be okay. Thank you.” With that, she walked away, past the cloak of darkness, without saying another word.

Misaki had no idea how to parse her “big day” statement. It was just Friday. She would be able to spend more time with Yuka soon, and the prospects that lay ahead for the next few days filled her with a hyperactive hummingbird flutter of hope and possibility. They were balanced out by so many sad acknowledgements. It sure seemed like the company let a murderer destroy a family here. Maybe he or she had at least been punished according to the laws back home, but her pessimistic heart doubted that.

Reentering the Sasaki house without causing a fuss sure seemed like a tense prospect. She had to feel her way around the front room with her phone light providing a careful, concentrated beam. No one wandered the living room or anywhere on the first floor. The lights hung up earlier in the bamboo garden provided more illumination than she was expecting. It was enough to guide her to the stairs and gradually climb them. The rattling, weighty presence of the large knife made her wish she’d had the presence of mind to drop it off around the kitchen. But she was just concerned with getting back to the places everyone was expecting her to be. Anything else could be dealt with later.

Once upstairs, she turned immediately to head into the bathroom. The toilet unit was occupied. Swerving hard, she slipped into the bath area to wait. It didn’t take long before the other door opened. Instead of going to wash up, the girl on the other side lingered and asked, “Who’s there?”

Yuka. She would have so many questions that Misaki had no clear idea how to answer them all. But she couldn’t run away from them. Quietly, Misaki turned around and opened the door to look at Yuka, who was peering over at her with tired confusion. Of course, she asked what she was doing.

Ambiguously, she responded, “I was up and around. I needed to stretch. I needed to walk a little.” Yuka shook off her passivity with fretful concern as she inspected Misaki for any visible signs of trauma. Misaki couldn’t let her find the knife, so she buried it deep and safe nearby. She relayed that the aches and tenderness from earlier were completely gone. The inside of her mouth is still actively recovering, but it hardly mattered now. Yuka pulled her close and avoided admonishing her like earlier with warnings about human-preying night spirits. Part of Misaki wondered if that lore came more from cruel humans than supernatural beasts.

They returned to Yuka’s bedroom, and their quiet chat focused more on how Misaki was feeling than resolving any confusions or uncertainties. Their words wandered through topics from earlier as Misaki felt the lateness of the hour start to sink her into the sheets. It was Yuka’s turn to touch her lightly and brush her hair as sleep seized her brain.

Morning arrived too soon, settling back into comfortable, quiet places. Calisthenics had suspiciously frantic energy this morning, like everyone was holding their breath in anticipation. It didn’t even take until breakfast for the biggest secret to come out. Kei was the one who spilled.

“I hope you four enjoy your ryokan trip because… you’re going to have some company. Everyone’s coming along!”

Kei quickly qualified that blurted-out statement. It was the entire Sasaki family, the Nishikawa sisters, Naoko, Ayame, Maharu, and her grandmother. Additionally, some members of the shrine care committee they never met would be joining, but Mari, unfortunately, had to miss out due to prior commitments. No opportunity for Misaki to ask her any obvious questions based on what Maharu revealed last night.

Yuka’s mom quickly amended that they didn’t intend to take over their trip to the mountains, but she intuited that the quartet had precious relationships developing with the group, and since Golden Week was ahead and the school girls would be free early today, it seemed like a fun idea. Their travel tickets on the bullet train placed them together just for the sake of a discount. With a wink, she passed along that she took several things into consideration when it came to the resort suite allocations.

And, from that announcement, it was like a frantic race began. Travel bags needed to be packed, and calls had to be made to make sure everyone was organized and prepared. The running and moving evoked a second, harder session of morning exercise. And Namiko was the expert for whom times like this called upon all her skills. Organizing and responding to chaos was her daily prerogative. One of the coolest stories that Dwight had in his back pocket to share was a detailed account of the day that an eighteen-wheeler loaded up with decommissioned equipment and carts had an unobservant driver who didn’t follow his checklist.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Everything in the back came spiraling out like metal beads unspooling. An entire day of work was undone. Until Dwight noticed that they could make a ramp out of wooden pallets and feed the line back into the truck within minutes. It flagrantly flew in the rules of every single OSHA guideline, but he still decided to do it. His bosses even watched as he finished it up, and he expected to be fired the moment everything was complete. But, as he often communicated to Franklin, sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission in some situations. Franklin could never imagine taking that sort of initiative.

It was like Dwight was already stepping into a different world than the one that he knew, one full of risks but also untold possibilities. Chika already had her feet in it as a bold creator. All Franklin could do was hope to follow behind in the shadows.

Maharu was one of the first of the schoolgoers to make an appearance. She had shortened hours because of her upcoming shrine performance. Misaki made uncertain eye contact with her and flashed a kind, curious expression. She projected the same boundless cheer and exuberance as usual. Particularly, Maharu cozied up to Yasha like meeting an old friend. The blonde clung to her darkened shades, as though weathering a hangover. With Fuyuki assisting at points, they fashioned a wide array of snacks, sandwiches, and drinks for the entire group. Misaki managed to sneak the knife from last night into one of the side drawers without anyone noticing.

Mostly without anyone noticing. Haruka orbited around her a few times with an expression of light scrutiny that never quite touched upon accusation. She didn’t say anything, but she did get around to giving Maharu a hug similar to what she gave Misaki. Kei made much of it with an account of how Haruka sometimes treated Maharu like a surrogate little sister when Yuka would scamper off or not want to be babied. The elder Sasaki sibling didn’t say much in response.

Tangentially, this reminded Misaki about the ominous, suspicious scrap of paper from the other day. She hunted for it in her pockets and dirty clothes but couldn’t find any sign of its presence. It had likely fallen out or simply gotten misplaced somewhere along the line. This often happened with Franklin and any form of receipt, especially those with benefits attached. Not worth stressing about, even though she wished she could’ve resolved if the handwriting matched Haruka’s. So many little mysteries for which she felt like she overlooked the most crucial details.

Bianka, surprisingly, was one of the next girls to check-in. Misaki suspected, from after-school club interactions, that it would take her a while to show, but it made sense when she learned the resort stay would be free for some joining them. Maharu‘s grandmother wasn’t far behind, and she hovered around her granddaughter more than the other day. She wore something similar to last time, with the same red leather jacket and dark pants, with a cane supporting her on her left side. Her eyebrows were indeed quite feathered, as Misaki recalled, but still firmly defined.

Standing around her quietly, Misaki found herself struck by a surprising and inescapable notion. She wrapped the older woman in a sudden hug. It was the kind of hug that Maharu often gave everyone, without the prior violent overtones. It didn’t take Misaki long to wonder if she had made a terrible mistake. The grandmother looked her in the eye with the same attitude as an old cat dunked in freezing water. This expression also fluttered with flailing nervousness as swaths of bright red bloomed across her pale cheeks. Uncomfortable tsundere squirming, like she worried that Yuka might display the other day with the bathroom incident, flitted to the surface. Misaki felt no confidence that the grandmother wouldn’t just smack her on the head with her cane. The shift in demeanor soon reverted her to the huffy sense of a nervous teenager. Ultimately, Misaki got a firm but harmless whack with that cane on her leg as the grandmother sharply scolded her for being so improper.

Maharu bounced away from her current task and seized her grandmother all for herself. The gesture had a restrained gentleness and ease that Misaki expected the girl would use on someone senior. But the grandmother wobbled with uncertainty in the embrace before tenderly wrapping her arms around her granddaughter. A message was clearly being shared between them, and Misaki took this opportunity to step away and help however possible with finishing up the food for their trip.

Despite finishing the hug with lingering stretches and cracks in her tired body, the grandmother showed quiet signs of being reenergized by her granddaughter‘s presence. She didn’t shed her stern edge or watchful attention.

Ayame arrived after her with a prepared collection of sweets and healthier alternatives shoved in the back of her bag. Yuka bounded ahead of the rest of the girls returning from classes and shrugged off all the accoutrements of her day to cling to her girlfriend.

She giggled gleefully when she learned what Misaki had done to the old woman. Kosame attempted a soliloquy on the beauty of maturity but was soon cut off. Naoko finally looked like she could breathe and relax, although she jumped in to help with preparations without complaint.

Misaki had hopes that Yuka and Maharu's proximity would quickly resolve their differences. But each clung to a different orbit, with Maharu around Yasha while food was made and Yuka inescapably right behind Misaki handling travel bag packing. No effort to cross their paths brought a glance in the other’s direction. Misaki wanted to shove them in each other’s faces or say something, but both had made it clear that they wanted to reconcile on their own time scale, as frustrating as that was.

One of the administrators from the shrine committee had a hair color similar to Namiko‘s but nowhere near the same figure. Another was strikingly tall, with sharp eyebrows similar to Namiko’s male face. Misaki surreptitiously used them as a rough analogy for her friend when bringing it up to Yuka.

The others blended in with the group. The lady from the other day with the truck also showed up, but, mercifully, she wasn’t one of the assigned drivers. Trips to the train station had started to become routine. Finding spots for all the bags and luggage felt like a Herculean task, one that Namiko was eager to assume.

Switching in the city brought them to the bullet train. It felt like something borrowed from another age or an optimistic theme park with its rumbling silence while settling into the station. Everything felt like the height of space-age amenities. A supersonic plane that never left the ground. The tickets had them seated together as a group. And she was happy to know that Chika and Namiko were close enough to wave and smile at her, with Yuka right next to her in the window seat. Before they left, she changed out of her school uniform and into a reddish-purple dress vaguely reminiscent of Misaki‘s chosen kimono and the outfit she had on when they took their walk together.

This one had little floral accents of blue around her shoulders, along with fancy girly ornamentation about the neckline, and dipped comfortably past her knees. The smile that Yuka wore on her face while sitting next to her didn’t feel like it could be contained by her body. It was going to erupt everywhere like a breached aquifer and inspire a rush of smiles in all directions. By comparison, Misaki looked like she was slumming it with a blue t-shirt and a gray skirt. She had earlier fretted about whether she should put on something nicer, but Yuka silenced her nerves by saying she looked like the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Her answer in kind felt so weak and insubstantial, but Yuka giggled with contentment as the bullet train issued several beeps and warnings that all doors were closing and it was about to leave the station.

Across the aisle, Yasha slumped down in her chair with her arms folded and scowled out her window as her seat companion, Kosame, regaled her and the vicinity with an illustrious sample of poetry pertaining to sitting ladies she was supposed to research for a class assignment.

It only took mere minutes for Yasha to break and plaintively ask around if anyone would be willing to trade seats. Naoko eventually rescued her.