Yuri Worlds

[56] Sunrise

Yuka and Misaki woke up early, barely before sunrise, to go for a walk around the inn and on the nearby mountain trails. The urge randomly struck them both soon after they woke up. The day had just the faintest hint of morning breaking through like a sliver of soft, ruddy egg yolk spread against the horizon.

Chika bolted up in concern and uncertainty when they stopped over at her and Namiko’s room to check on them. Chika brought up the life-threatening ordeal just a few hours ago as a clear reason to not even get out of bed. Plus, it didn’t feel like it had been eight hours or anywhere close. It was actually more. She soon zonked back on her futon. Namiko was as awake and alert as them but opted to remain by Chika’s side.

They brought Chika some complementary tangerines from down the hall and dodged around Misaki‘s minor celebrity status, with everyone asking if she felt all right. The citrus smell roused the drowsy girl, but only for a few quiet moments at a time. If she had more of Bianka‘s presence of mind, Misaki might speculate over whether this drowsiness was artificially bolstered by the abomination on her wrist, the living, writhing monster that could eat through metal.

Now still wasn’t yet the time to drop that truth. Or at least what they knew of it. They couldn’t wait too long, especially if something like what happened to Misaki’s body occurred again. They discussed timing and settled on at least making sure those closest to them knew sometime today. It didn’t even have to be a grandiose get-together, although Yuka’s imagination fashioned it into a lengthy detective wrap-up from a classic work. She envisioned them detailing the culpability, negligence, and criminal activities of the company. Methodically, they would weave together the broad details of Yuka's notes into a gasp-inducing certainty.

Misaki cautioned against going further than they could with the evidence, but Yuka reminded her that she took several phone snaps of the gooey gray beast hidden away in the closet. Checking the set deflated some of Yuka’s confidence, as the images didn’t come out as detailed and incontrovertible as she expected. Enough was still present, like capturing a bird in the process of lifting off, but one had to scrutinize the image carefully. No matter though, she concluded, the most dramatic demonstration could be easily repeated with Yuka’s own blood lightly coating a pair of chopsticks as she stabbed the creature.

The prospect of seeing Yuka wound herself concerned Misaki, but Yuka assured her it would be little more than a scratch, and besides, she wanted to make whatever it was suffer at least a little for all it had done. She conceded Misaki’s follow-up point that they didn’t know if this "DE" or "RB" contained in the wristband was any more nefarious than a tormented dog forced into servitude. But she didn’t have a way to burn the company itself.

Despite all this swirling around them like a storm on the cusp of spilling out from the clouds above, their pre-sunrise walk was free of the weight and worst concerns of the moment. The rarified air carried a sharp chill that not even their jackets could quite cut. Stenciled puffs of steam wafted from underground vents.

Their hands and thoughts lingered comfortingly close to one another as they explored and traced intimate places they had sought more adventurously before. This moment was for soft, soothing, and reassuring connections. Not so close that they yanked anything loose from one another again, but still an electric link. Yuka didn’t flinch or wince when Misaki found cloaked, dry skin beneath her hair. She leaned into her touch, with her tears barely restrained.

“Mum Fuyuki will want an ornate wedding in the sisterly tradition. Mama Kei will agree publicly but urge us to elope. Legally, we’ll need both of them to give consent, and it could get sticky with your identity. But we’ll figure it out. And I’ll wait it out. Even if it takes a thousand years. I’ll wait for you.”

Misaki vehemently reiterated the same, even though they each acknowledged that a millennium was hyperbolic. Then her mind wandered, and she wondered whether a scion of literature was also known here. Yuka confirmed Joan Shakespeare was the single most cited literary figure short of the most esteemed, lyrical Account of the Goddesses from prehistory. Misaki soon determined that the play Juliet & Portia filled the space occupied by what she knew. She expected Yuka to bury her in questions about how different the work was on her side, but Yuka instead cautiously pulled away from her partner and wavered.

“Why do you think about a tragic romance play when you’re with me? Haven’t we already invoked and endured enough trials of our own?”

Misaki knew she should’ve just backpedaled and written that off as a random thought based on their viewing last night. But she had new, bolstered thoughts and sincerely shared them with Yuka, who turned away and rose up on her heels. It wasn’t long before Yuka was into a full-on gesticulating argument about fiction and how thoughts and ideas can shape spirits and realities. The back and forth started analytical and restrained before the emotion was unsheathed.

“I was so terrified last night! I know you were with me, but you cut yourself, and what if that monster decided it liked the taste of you instead of being hurt by your blood? Who needs tragedy? Why would you want tragedy?! I just want you!”

Their words flared further with concern and panic, volleying between them. It pushed to the point that Yuka was genuinely scared that something beyond the wristband was wrong, and Misaki feared likewise. They mounted higher and higher, climbing a tower made of razor wire. Until…they looked into each other’s eyes.

Laughter soon broke out as they each realized the ridiculousness of what they were fighting about. They fell into each other’s arms and kissed fervently. They rained copious, random apologies on one another as the hot, freezing early mist clung to them.

Their first fight. Scary but they weathered it. Yuka nervously realized there would be more. She knew countless times her mothers were in conflict over things great and small. But they always kept the promise never to go to bed angry with one another and to communicate as earnestly and clearly as possible.

Yuka shaped a concise, heartfelt apology for freaking out in fear over drawing tragedy to themselves. And Misaki shared her apology for not recognizing how much it bothered Yuka to bring up tragedy. In turn, Yuka knew she didn’t want her to walk on eggshells about every little topic of discussion. So, she just gave herself a little light fist bonk on the head, stuck out her tongue, and said she was dumb and to ignore her.

Misaki leaned in, kissed her gently, and assured her that no matter what, she certainly wasn’t dumb. And she once again sprouted a red tidal wave of a blush to wash away all other tones in her skin. She was swiftly reduced to a giggling, muttering mass, a cheerful puddle of herself, before they attempted to get back onto the trail.

They sailed through the sandy, soft, mossy steps of the awakening morning as Yuka spun tales of all the different spirits she knew who made their home in the forest. She swiftly name-dropped and paid careful tribute to dispel the most malicious before lavishing her attention on all the beneficial companions of humanity. Once she was finished with the folklore of mountain-dwelling forest entities, she was reminded of another tale.

It was about hot spring black eggs. Misaki had no idea if this had anything approaching equivalence back home. According to legend, these eggs were touched by special powers that left them black as midnight and slimy when cooked in sulfuric water. Allegedly, if you ate one of the strange, rocky black eggs, you would be gifted seven years of immortality. Certain shrines and resorts similarly prepared eggs for a few dollars, but the real, life-extending variety could only be found when prepared by divine entities. The Valley of Hell was especially famous for its eggs. Yuka wasn’t sure but mused whether local legends and other mythologies involving century eggs were connected.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Yuka had so many rich, detailed, and beautiful stories to tell, reaching back hundreds of years, if not eons. She had tales of goddess inspiration, epic wars, and supernatural happenings. Misaki still had to reach for the same vague notes of American pop culture back home. She did what she could to share her culture with Yuka.

Skinwalkers. Once human figures of power and magic who had forsaken their vows and either consumed the flesh of others, corrupted goodness, or committed heartless murder. She wasn’t really sure of the specifics. One of the creepy details that she knew was that they could often emulate the sound of a loved one’s voice or even your own with uncanny qualities. Yuka knew a few comparable spirits. Yamabiko were skilled mimics… who often inhabited climates like this mountain forest. Fortunately, they were only shy, small tricksters who wanted to steal snacks from your bags when you left them unattended.

Women in white who haunted roadsides. Not nearly as dangerous, but not all benign, as legends involved some who sought to crash the cars that picked them up, and send them to a similar fate. Yuka knew plenty of creepy apparitions of women. In her heart, Yuka wanted to believe that a passed-on spirit was either simply lost, misguided, or desperately searching for peace.

Nightcrawlers. This one amused and delighted Yuka as she emulated stomping footsteps like the creatures. She couldn’t think of any similar entities offhand. Several walked creepily behind travelers. The two of them stopped for a moment to check that they didn’t hear an echo. Misaki thought she heard something, but not enough to get her spooked. Then there were torn-faced women, little girls without faces, or those with incredibly long necks. All best avoided.

Misaki recalled further local legends of half-woman cats, serpentine sea monsters, alien creatures, and so much more. They all captivated Yuka as she traded comparable tales. They walked together and shared so much, with Yuka seeking to lean and share the places that once felt nervously uncomfortable against her sworn fiancée.

Their walk took them on one of the smaller trails around the mountainous area. All the while, they kept their eyes out for the local wildlife. Checking the resources she had saved on her phone, as the signal wasn’t working, Yuka had a list of critters she was excited to at least catch a glimpse of. She focused on the possibility of bears, goat grazers, and deer, similar to what Misaki encountered the other day. They got a flash of color, which may have been an escaping hare but that was the biggest note of excitement in the wilderness. A handful of squirrels and colorful birds eventually made up for the no-shows.

Once they were past the midpoint of the loop, with the sun really starting to peek against the horizon and provide brilliant fluff to the fair yoke, they took some time to rest on a bench and soak in the serenity. Since the panic eased to quiet strength yesterday, Misaki genuinely wondered if anything would ever bother her again or if she would just find peacefulness for the rest of her days. Their argument had gotten animated, but she never had a Franklin thought during it. They quietly cuddled with intimate care, delicately probing each other’s flaws. As the distance receded again, but without the screaming need to squeeze into one another, Misaki faintly trembled. This made Yuka glance up and check on her.

Sparkling, all-consuming anime tears filled her eyes and threatened her reddish cheeks with historic flooding. Urgently, Misaki squeezed her into the best hug she could offer, which wouldn’t let her go but also didn’t threaten the presence of her soul. As though that were a balancing act she could realistically judge rather than just a hopeful, intuited sensation.

Messily trying to organize her thoughts and feelings into something coherent, Misaki blubbered for a while before managing, "I thought for sure I would be alone forever. For the longest time. I was just stuck. My friends… It was Chika‘s idea to take on the role of my little sister because she was actually my very first friend as a kid. I treated her badly because, for all the possibilities of being a man, it’s so desperately lonely. And whenever there’s a glimmer of friendship, you have to be very careful not to embrace it too hard or weirdly and be shunned by everyone else. But that’s stupid. I would’ve been alone anyway. I’m so glad to have them as friends. I’m so glad to have someone in such an empty, quiet, hostile world, and I am so desperately grateful to have found you and everyone you know, and I feel so desperately swarmed by company, companionship, and love."

Yuka immediately glommed onto all those hints about the other world and lamented the loneliness of these special swaths of humanity she never even imagined until this last week. She didn’t have anything quite as emotionally resonant to share, but Misaki urged that it wasn’t a competition to spill your heart out. Whatever she felt comfortable sharing, if anything. Yuka touched upon sentiments previously alluded to on the train, on the rooftop, and in private bedtime moments. Knowing Misaki was life-changing for her. She didn’t have the same struggle, pain, self-loathing, doubt, and tears. But being with her meant so much.

She was truly serenely happy and immensely grateful. That the girl she loved would gladly press her fist against a diamond mountain of separation between them until an eternity passed and they were finally reunited again literally put her beyond words and sent her sinking into honored, grateful sobs. The analogy popped into her head from some show Naoko showed her a while ago, which stuck in her mind as oddly romantic. Misaki confidently reiterated what Yuka said about a thousand years. If that was what it took.

Their fingers, their bonking heads, their light brushes of cheek, the soft places that Misaki would’ve been so desperately embarrassed to imagine under her control, much less wield with a girl more experienced in a feminine life than her. They shared everything without shame. Two souls in blazing, constant orbit. No tossing off clothes in the middle of the forest though, despite the presence of civilization leading them in a line back. The critters were liable to get curious or become sneaky thieves.

The dull, shivery swath of dawn had finally melted away into the awakening, insistent promise of the day before them. One more day out here with so many possibilities for how to spend it and so little time to spread over. Soon, they cheerfully hopped up from the bench and followed the trail back to the inn in the distance.

——

“They don’t have a chance. It’s truly unfortunate. Such a shame. I’m always the first to say that love deserves every chance possible.”

“Who’s to say that’s the case? Despite everything, isn’t it worth it to be a little optimistic?”

"It’s not about optimism. These are just the facts. It’s reality. There’s nothing any of us can do to change it."

“My gosh, you sound like my mom. I think, as long as there is life, hope will always be there. They deserve every ounce of hope, no matter who they are and what that means.”

“You’re wrong. But I desperately wish you were right.”