Yuri Worlds
[5] Sightseeing
Yuka was absolutely full of curious questions. She asked about their bags, inquired how long they had to travel, whether their journey was comfortable, and if they had or wanted anything to eat. The blonde narrowed her eyes and yawned, but the three of them quietly reflected on what she asked. Misaki knew that just avoiding those queries would probably make for a better time, but the girl was so chipper and earnest that she wanted to at least offer her something.
Carefully considering her response, Misaki told her, “I think we’re okay with our bags. It hasn’t been too long traveling. But we have to be very careful with the process, and it takes a lot of work. It’s most of our first time, I think, and it’s daunting, but we’re glad to be here. And the three of us ate before, so you don’t need to worry about us.” She gestured to their part of the group, not wanting to make assumptions for the blonde.
That answer felt both insanely awkward for what she intended to express but also like a victorious step up. She was talking to a real freaking, living, breathing anime girl, and she actually composed a coherent response. This day just kept filling up with unexpected surprises. And she hoped there would be more of this sort and less of whatever the heck was going on with her foot.
Despite all that, Yuka still wanted to relieve her guests of their load, so Chika let her carry one of her smaller bags. She also greeted each of them, expressing the most cheer at the sibling connection.
They each got a hug similar to what Misaki received. Chika leaned into hers while Namiko’s was careful. Pivoting with her aloof body language, Yuka gave the blonde just a quick, formal shoulder embrace. Namiko’s figure earned a well-deserved “wowser” from the girl, after which she clamped her hands over her mouth and spilled out copious apologies. It seemed to Misaki that Namiko was going to drop a typical Dwight comment, but she ultimately opted to restrain herself. The only hiccup came again with the blonde, who gave her name as Yasha Sugawara. She didn’t bother to flip it. Not that Yuka noticed.
The name itself seemed to bother her on a level that Misaki‘s brain just didn’t have the elements to piece together. One of the few normal questions that came out of Yasha involved an inquiry about upcoming shrine festivals. Yuka mentioned one in Kamaichi towards the hills as well as a huge one in Shido. One of her neighbors had a granddaughter who was a skilled dancer and shrine maiden/miko there. Yasha took down a detailed note but didn’t say anything.
Conceding that the log jam of things to process inside her head wasn’t going to clear anytime soon, Misaki just absorbed the sense of things around her. Before today, the notion of being in the skin of a girl felt as weird as becoming something fundamentally alien. But she was already processing the broad details along with the minute artistic scale of living in this world. Stepping outside the foyer of this glass structure was just the next challenge to add.
The street out front beyond some planters was starkly busy but surprisingly narrow. A complicated roundabout fanned in more like a sun pattern. Snug seating and brown benches flanked an entertainment area with a noisy café full of twinkling lights. Prominent signs splashed with foreign characters and familiar letters popped up every few steps. A couple of clubs with flashy advertisements visually shouted from the other end of the road. Turning around, Misaki scrutinized the building they just left. It was anointed with the name “Distant Friendship Transit Center”. The smell of the world met her in all new ways. Not that it was different or unlike any city she'd ever been in. It had a city's smell but the way it traversed and navigated her altered nostril was a surreal shift. The smell wasn't subtler or more pronounced. Rather, she picked it up with an unfamiliar apparatus. More than just opening your nose up. She felt like the process of smelling had new programming.
As they walked, Yuka breathlessly played informal tour guide, not only explaining what different places were and which ones to patronize but also giving a sampling of their history along with businesses that no longer existed. A 7-Eleven (known here as Seven & i Holdings) market was a familiar feature with vastly different details. The food they had actually looked worth trying. Despite the general sentiment that they had plenty to eat earlier, Yuka paused to let everyone have a look around to see if they wanted any snacks. She sheepishly admitted that she needed to stop anyway to bring back groceries for her moms.
Namiko was, by now, well aware of the eyeballs that her prominent features drew, but the right combination of blanket and bags muted and controlled their presence while not bringing on too oppressive of a sweat. The clerk at the front of the store thanked them for visiting and then cheerfully watched their tour group. Yasha only earned her attention for a little while; Chika drew the lion’s share. They dusted off an old quip about octopus balls oft repeated on Gal Hotner streams. Franklin wasn’t too experienced with those balls and stuffed a large portion in his mouth, thinking he could bypass the steaming heat with just a few puffs. That octopus left a ghostly ulcer in the top of his mouth that persisted until he became Misaki.
The ball joke earned an undisguised giggle from the clerk. Misaki took quite a while to ponder how the joke landed in this environment. It possibly still had a sexual edge, considering the prominent, rounded peaks she could see whenever she looked down. Although, it was supposition to conflate balls and boobs. Otherwise, she gathered that round objects did have a certain, persistent motif. Ball gags likely still existed. Sports objects as well. A lot of thoughts to spill for such a silly thing.
Looking over, she noticed Yuka had paused in picking through groceries to watch their group. If only she could genuinely answer the young girl’s questions. But it would complicate things. She didn’t wanna get them thrown back home, create complications for the next group of visitors, or foster uncertainty. She decided on a karaage chicken stick, not too different from anything she could’ve gotten back home, but she was still working her way up to more adventurous prospects. The aroma blasted her. The style and the presentation lent it a unique air, even though it probably wasn’t any healthier than usual. The company hadn’t been clear on where excess weight, nutrients, or anything else would go when they returned. Of course, she had no idea where her Franklin body was during the nearly two-week interval.
Namiko opted for a can of lightly sweetened black coffee. The scent of the can alone felt to Misaki like she'd taken a hit of it. In addition to that, she bought a big loaf of melon bread that they split. The wristbands gave away their visitor status. The clerk practically asked them as many questions as Yuka, focusing on how long they were staying, whether they were having a good time, and whether they wanted to have an even better time.
That last sentiment was accentuated with a nearly hypnotic eyebrow brush mark wiggle. Misaki had no idea what to think about all that, especially since the flirtation was a genuine glancing effort at her. She wasn’t an outsider to actual interest. In response, she folded her arms down and felt her face get hot. Namiko and Chika relentlessly exploited this to push their friend to the forefront of this attention.
“You have the most beautiful eyes,” the clerk sincerely told her. That should’ve hit harder, but Misaki reminded herself that so many details were choices. Still, she quietly thanked her. What had become of her phone through the threshold managed to receive information from the clerk’s with just a gentle tap. Namiko and Chika also traded contact info with her. Yasha kept to herself and was the first one out when they left. She didn’t even get any food, despite her hungry sentiment. They sat down on a stone bench off to the side to sample their purchases. The coffee hit the current configuration of Namiko's tongue much more sharply than Dwight was used to. The chicken contained an entire journey of flavor. And the bread soothed any sensory bumps.
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From the market, they continued along that side of the street until they came to the next regular pedestrian overpass. Namiko quietly lamented the number of stairs. Misaki noticed the lack of a ramp alternative like back home. Their host looked puzzled and raised her artful eyebrows at their hesitation. They did their best not to make too much of it. The view from the top was remarkable.
Plenty of modern buildings spread out before them, seemingly shaped by the diligent pen and brush skills of an unseen creator. The faintest breeze added a subtle but complicated variation. It was right about then that Misaki started to feel an overwhelming sense of exhaustion hit her. She grumbled with private annoyance at the failures of her consciousness. After getting more than enough sleep the previous night, despite the tense interruptions. After several days of only the lightest load going into this new week. Gee and Dwight had taken care of so many household chores, and each had far more to do at their respective workplaces.
Dwight always had a strongman level of lifting, tidying, picking apart, and putting back together. And he did it with somewhere in the region of three hours of sleep pretty much every day. Gee always kept his unstoppable energy level up, whether he was performing for his online audience, wrapping new customers around his slender finger, or organizing the boss lady’s extensive catalog of comics. Presenting the evidence to her mind and body sure seemed like a convincing argument; however, it did absolutely nothing to change the way she was feeling at that moment. Taking a spontaneous nap in some shade on the nearest section of pavement sure seemed like a decent solution.
The possibility that she avoided the most was that the strange flash of darkness represented something that had clung to her internally and attempted to hollow out her energy like a worm digging its way through an apple. If that was actually something and not just a figurative representation of being too tired or a dream sample of her anxieties, then that meant she had been the unfortunate host to an unknown presence across the vast but imperceptible distances. She feared it could do more than just end their vacation.
But it wasn’t her fault! She didn’t do anything to invite whatever that thing may be. And they had checked her diligently before they left and as soon as they arrived in transition. None of their questions specified a furry black carpet monster attached to a leg or even hinted at something like that. It was just another one of those stresses and worries Franklin always blew up to troublesome proportions. Even if it was real and not some crazy creation of her overtaxed mind, it had left. But the guilt of possibly unleashing some dark, energy-sapping presence couldn’t be brushed away. At the same time, the leech-like thing had only brought on a spell of discomfort and tiredness.
The road branching off the elevated footpath didn’t lead to any further stairs up or down. But this raised position allowed Misaki to get her first clear glimpse of genuine East Asian architecture. The hip and gable rises and dips entranced her.
Yuka noticed her interest as the others pointed out the features as well. Even though they couldn’t see it yet, she listed off the features of a nearby castle, along with a sampling of the history and folklore on display. She hinted at the multitude of spirits that circulated from and around human beings. Spirits of nature, spirits of sentiment and feeling, spirits of those who are gone, and spirits of what may one day be. The implication followed her casual lecture that they were welcome to express the differences in how they saw the world wherever they came from. Misaki considered it. Mentioning what she knew of Japan in equivalence didn’t seem troublesome. However, what knowledge and details she had cemented in her brain about Japanese animism, Shinto philosophy, and folklore felt skeletally flimsy. Her confidence in what she could recall also wavered.
So she rejected the idea of trying to wrap herself in the concepts and details of a culture she only casually knew. But what could she offer? What was American culture like? What was the belief system? Every possibility felt like it required too many levels to even start.
A flippant possibility crossed her mind. “We believe in UFOs.”
Franklin encountered a lot of cringe from what seemed like each conversation he attempted. But every trace of that other self was currently screaming in terror at what his female alter ego just said. Yuka puzzled at this brief statement and curiously inquired if she could elaborate. The others, except for Yasha, flashed Misaki a look of concern. Once again, she had stumbled right into a briar patch of a topic, and she wasn’t secretly Br'er Rabbit. Groaning and moaning about it internally didn’t help matters. She just said what came to mind.
“Aliens and other unknown objects from space… Or maybe not. Some beliefs actually say that our space…br… kinships trace the origin of life on our world. And they live among us. Some unseen. Most unseen. Some of them rise from beneath the ground, and a couple are residents of the moon. They are always around us, always watching. Art is done depicting so many different possibilities of their existence. They may appear as ape… creatures. Figures the same as any of us. Or whatever else. Yeah…” Misaki had no idea if any part of what came erupting from her mouth was the least bit coherent. The source was a half-remembered podcast that autoplayed beyond her normal slate while she was napping one night. The only reason she had any recollection of the subject matter was that they threw in some spooky sounds that terrified him into consciousness. And the rest was cobbled together from various cultural leavings.
An equivalence between folklore spirits and interdimensional aliens, between the multitude of the Yokai and whatever the heck Bigfoot was, seemed like a silly connection to draw, but it was genuinely the best that her exhausted consciousness could do. It was clear Yuka had no idea what to say or do after that spiel. But she thanked Misaki for the information. Mercifully, they weren’t far from the train station that Yuka was leading them towards. And it didn’t require a lot of steps.
The company had provided instructions for purchasing transit cards with their travel stipend, but they diligently listened to the young girl’s explanation of which ones to buy for their region. Misaki made sure to take down a note since she had no faith in her flagging brain to retain the details. At least she hadn’t let slip anything about the existence of men.
In a mellow quiet that didn’t have the punctuation of cicadas or any other natural noises, Namiko asked Misaki a question without preamble, “Are you thinking of staying longer?”
Her first reaction was to give a little shake of her head, as though throwing off the accumulating sleepiness like an invisible snowfall. Their host was far enough away that she felt comfortable answering without sheltering her words too much, “Longer? That’s not possible. Melting and what the company would do. And things would go back. It’s nice here. Everything is amazing. My brain is at a loss to process even a little bit. But I know the limitations. I’m not thinking about it.”
Yasha, over on the edge of the bench they were sharing, leaned towards them and declared, “Why would you want to stay here? The multiverse has so much. It’s infested with worlds. Every moment of existence spills new things. I know what I’m here for. Don’t get caught up in it, kid.”
Chika flashed a quick glare at Yasha. The conversation receded when Yuka rejoined them. Misaki looked out across the small station. Girls. Anime girls everywhere. Some older and mature. Many as young or younger than their host. A world of special things. She couldn’t wait to learn more.