Yuri Worlds
[57] Questions
Breakfast had a spotty attendance to start, with the oldest, most eyebrow-feathered girls ambling in first, followed by sleep-staggered younger ones amidst most of their group, and then the rest dragging themselves from emotional hangovers.
Chika made it overzealously clear how grateful she was that her best friend and little sister was still among the living after last night’s scare. To cloak the noticeable absence of her wristband this morning, Misaki had on long sleeves and wrist warmers with a conspicuous lump to deflect suspicion. The presence of the gray, etched "identification" bands on Chika’s and Namiko’s wrists filled her with an inescapable tension.
The breakfast was fantastic, even though it didn’t quite compare to the Sasaki moms’ loving efforts. It had many of the same small dishes brought together in something approaching a buffet style, but the love, care, and attention to every little detail just couldn’t match. Misaki chose a quiet moment to surreptitiously pass this detail along without speaking ill of their current hosts.
Ruka… Haruka. She had to be careful since it seemed like that shortening was a personal nickname that most outside the family didn’t know about. Accidentally blurting it out might cause trouble, or at least confusion. She had questions about the older sister. When Haruka bumped into her within Yuka, it knocked her loose like a free-floating spirit. Then, when she seemed at the end of all things, the girl again appeared to intervene by pummeling her back where she belonged.
If Misaki knew her anime tropes, and she knew some with a smattering augmented by listening to her friends, then Haruka surely had some sort of critical secret hiding in the wings beneath her cryptic, rather kuudere personality. She knew she shouldn’t think of the poor girl that way, but it absolutely felt like some of the ladies around the table were harboring important information. To follow the lawyer template that Yuka set out last night, she had a handful of women of interest to probe with questions.
A few for Ayame compared to a lot for Grandma Okura and even more for Yasha. Whatever she learned could likely augment Yuka’s photos and a demonstration. The owner of the inn made a reappearance. If Misaki didn’t have the experience of the last week when it came to the residents of this world, she would’ve assumed the girl was some cheerful upstart or heir to the estate with how young and fresh-eyed she appeared. But she had prominent eyebrows with more feathering than Grandma Okura’s.
Her shoulder-length hair, with a slightly darker silver tone to it than Yuka's locks, wriggled with disheveled waves like she got up from bed mere minutes ago. Her bright blue eyes blinked blearily as though she were desperately trying to clear something tenaciously clingy out of them. She had on a dark blue yukata with bright pink flower blossoms littered with prominent green stems slicing their way across the fabric. If anything seemed to foretell an actual age for her, it was the vaguely skeletal curl of her hands, cautiously poking through her wide sleeves with thin, jutting wrists.
In contrast, she briskly scampered across the dining hall to make direct contact with Misaki. Trembling preludes of tears twinkled at the edges of her bright eyes as she relayed panic and concern about Misaki‘s recent health scare and current state. With calm reassurance, she relayed to the owner that she felt perfectly fine now and even went so far as to circle one of the trails with an escort.
This shockingly overzealous action earned waves of pleading concern from the poor little lady that she pay more attention to her health. As a disappointing consequence, the owner made sure that upcoming side dishes were swapped out with the healthiest, heart-friendly options the kitchen had available. Misaki groaned but graciously accepted these alternatives. Yuka quietly traded half of hers when no one else was looking.
At one point, the slight woman cast off her typical decorum and launched into a Maharu-approved frantic dash to her side with arms outstretched and soft pleading advancing before tears, like she was a fretful little sister reunited with her elder. She smelled quite sweet, with an overpowering aroma encircling her that was practically strong enough to knock Misaki‘s spirit loose a second time. Without much to her pants, her skinny, pale legs vigorously slapped against the wooden floor. The undue, focused attention didn’t bother her nearly as much as it would’ve if her Franklin qualities were closer to the surface, but she still quietly anticipated the end of this episode.
One interesting tidbit did pop up when the question of scheduling everyone in their group for this weekend was mentioned. It was difficult to do with a group this size. Strings needed to be pulled, but, fortunately, Yasuda Mari knew the right people to pull those exact strings. High-level cancellations and rescheduling all came at the right time. That was one of the reasons why they opted not to spring this surprise on the four of them until the day of, because they weren’t one hundred percent certain about who would be able to make it to the resort.
Doing her best not to be conspicuous about her line of questioning, Misaki wrapped her curiosity in a thin veneer of soft concern about their missing lady friend and how well their host knew them. It was still a suspiciously awkward pursuit, but the owner had attempted something weirder last night with her ice-breaking efforts.
She confirmed, without too much trouble, that she both knew Mari from quite a ways back and that there were gaps in their connection owing to a perfectly normal variety of reasons. They were both busy all the time and hadn’t managed to even touch base for quite a while, which was especially disappointing considering she might’ve made it up with their group. Mari apparently traveled a lot, but that was the extent of the specifics. Anything else would have been rude to elaborate on without Mari present. Conveniently.
Conceding this block without acting like it was an imposition, Misaki quietly passed a written note to Yuka saying that Mari was important. Any more than that allusion risked entangling the complex web of things she knew and why. Yuka also didn’t need more reasons to feel upset with Maharu. The two of them at least seemed to be exchanging encouraging glances across the table without conspicuous avoidance, but that was the extent of the warming relations. She’d have to help Yuka work on that.
They were on the same page as far as questioning the other girls. Clearly, Maharu was off the table for Yuka. Ayame seemed like the best fit, and Misaki would pick up where she left off at the old hotel. Unfortunately, both of their quarries skipped out before the end of breakfast to parts unknown.
They could go after other options, but Misaki found them both heading off rather suspicious. Rushing through the end of breakfast wasn’t fun, although Yuka was clearly better at it. The problem was escaping once the deed was done. Chika, for whom food shook off the worst of her lethargy, immediately glommed onto Misaki when the possibility of her rushing away surfaced, and Naoko did the same to Yuka. Change of plans.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The reasons weren’t suspicious. Chika was still reeling and needed her big sister close. Naoko vaguely processed her swirling thoughts about her ex and wasn’t sure which direction to take next. But the timing raised eyebrows. Chika still had one of those things wrapped around her wrist, and… neither of them could think of anything concerning Naoko. They went with their respective close friends for a chat.
Misaki and Chika did a bit of wandering since Chika wanted to work up more of a sweat before she showered. The inn didn’t have any creepy bars or immense, forgotten ballrooms. Chika dropped most of the Lookout Hotel allusions and wondered which of the elevators was the blood elevator. Despite her brisk, typical sense of humor squeezing its way through her lips, it was obvious to Misaki that she had plenty on her mind.
"You were dead. I felt you. I saw you. Even though I begged forces I scarcely knew and couldn’t possibly understand, and it turned out okay, I’m scared. What happened?"
Misaki brushed her hair back from her neck. A small patch appeared achingly rough, although not as bad as the matching spot on Yuka’s neck. Either in need of a good sulfur soak or responding badly to the natural elements of this place. Misaki took in as much breath as she could hold, both physically and metaphorically. No concessions to uncertainty.
"I really don’t know. I saw plenty of things I don’t understand. Although that’s not new, it feels like every few hours brings something of that caliber. Everyone around here likes to bring up spirits as some kind of danger, harbinger, or inescapable companion. Something happened that feels like it knocked my spirit loose, for lack of a better analogy. I watched as you and Nami worked to bring me back. And the experience—every part of what happened to me—changed my life. You know how uncertain, questioning, and nervous I can be. Listen to my words right now. Do I sound anything like I usually do?"
Automatically, Chika leaned back in caution and traced her eyes over Misaki‘s seemingly foreign shape, as though someone or something had replaced her oldest friend. But Misaki swiftly and casually slipped on the most comfortable smile to reflect on her dear friend. It had the warmth and embrace of the sun still making its hopeful, early trek across the sky.
That settled her down as she looked over her shape again and eventually concluded, "Yeah, you sound different. Although maybe different isn’t totally bad. You had a near-death experience? My gosh, that is nowhere close to the kind of experience I wanted any of us to have on this trip. That’s scary. Do you think it has to do with how the girls of this world are affected by different things? Do you think they’re just more… Spiritual? Is that weird?" They sat down on one of the hallway benches.
Misaki noted that she had no idea and that it would probably be past her "paygrade" to reconcile and likely past anyone else’s for that matter. Gods, goddesses, and spirits—she had no idea what to do with any of that. She was just immensely grateful for every moment she had that she could talk to Chika, Yuka, and everyone else.
Chika nervously took hold of Misaki, as though she both feared that if she didn’t, then either her big sister would tumble over again, or she would. Misaki appreciated the support, but assured her that she was stable enough. Granted, the ghostly presence of the eggs she ran through with breakfast was throwing a fit at the entrance to her stomach. That was more of a Dwight style of joking around, but Chika still appreciated the levity.
“I’m in love. It’s probably quite obvious,” Misaki eventually admitted. For a hopeful flash, Chika’s colorful eyes bloomed with possibility about the intention of that statement. Then, the realization of what it meant settled on her shoulders. She was used to this. And she was happy for her dearest, closest friend. The melancholy still leaked through. And Misaki knew.
She didn’t leave her friend to slip her eyes down or sulk with quiet overtones; she seized her and brought her close. “I love Sasaki Yuka. And I love Takano Chika. And I also love gorgeous Gal Hotner, along with her kooky twin, Guy Horner. Yuka and I are going to get married, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to spare any love for all the beautiful girls and Guys in my life.”
Chika had no idea what to think, but she felt immensely grateful that her best friend was focused entirely on her blushing, red face rather than the screaming points at her chest and lower. She stammered with uncertain words around her friend’s unexpected, totally sexy confidence. The certainty of marriage deserved more scrutiny and attention than she was able to give with the messy amalgamation of thoughts dribbling out of her mouth. Misaki planted a lingering, delicate kiss along her forehead and then her cheek, which left Chika as an allegorical and nearly literal puddle in front of her. Thankfully, they had stopped on one of the benches to briefly sit down, although Chika was lost on exactly when that happened. Giggles helped her when words seemed to fail.
Once things settled down and questions emerged about specifics, Misaki admitted that she and Yuka honestly had no idea how they would go about actually getting married, although it seemed clear from Yuka that the legal portion of the question would go through her mothers, same as would be expected back home. Of course, immediate concerns popped up with the Horner and Fowler family history about jumping into serious matters too swiftly. Desperate marriages evolved into angry families, obligated by their connections but bitter and vindictive towards one another. Misaki leaned back from Chika, with her arms folded above her head, her lack of wristband still carefully cloaked, and questions of whether they were actually rushing into things at least given a courtesy examination.
“…And what will you do…if I kill her?”
Misaki’s head urgently snapped to the side. The voice that spoke that cruel question used Chika‘s vocal cords, but it was not her voice. A placid, unnaturally calm emptiness washed over her friend’s expression as she confidently repeated those words, so there was no confusion. Misaki responded quickly.
“No. You won’t. I won’t let you.”
“….Really? What are you going to do about it? You’re not the one holding any chips. You have no idea what you’re messing with. How much can you watch any of your friends suffer, before you break?“ Misaki planted her hands firmly and loudly on the bench, but whatever was inhabiting Chika simply chuckled deeper than seemed possible.
“That’s what I thought. Feel free to play detective for the rest of the weekend. It can be a fun game. But know that it comes with…consequences…” With a mechanical motion, Chika brought her hands up to her cheeks and, at first, lovingly stroked the soft skin, before pressing her nails harder and harder. She drew a finger up to each eyeball, with the nail close enough to apply an immense contact lens, if she so wished. The fingers lingered there, quivering but not moving a millimeter closer. Misaki found her own eyes pulsing and desperately wanting to blink as she watched in frozen terror.
Just when the looming threat seemed poised to become something more, whatever force was controlling Chika shifted to gently rub her tired eyes and yawn before signing off, “See you around, little one.”