Yuri Worlds
[59] Clowns
Misaki propped herself up against the wall with her eyes shut and attempted to fuse together all the different, disparate elements they’d discovered into something coherent to offer Chika by way of an explanation.
"I don’t know for certain what’s going on, but it sure feels like the company is trying to screw with us. I’ve had visions I can’t explain of horrifying imagery and clinical settings, like I’m a lab rat. We both received black marks from whatever they’re trying to do, Yuka on her leg and me on my wrist, when I checked the band during my bath several nights ago. And when I dropped, basically dead, someone or something was trying to use my wristband to puppeteer me. Like they tried to do with you. When we probed the wristband, there was a monster inside."
They shared the photographs from Yuka’s phone and tried to fill in as many details as possible for her. Chika did her best to follow everything, but soon quipped that her friend was having such complicated adventures. The realization of being controlled sickened her to the point that she almost looked like she was going to upchuck her breakfast. Even though they were closer to rivals than friends, Yuka urgently scooted over, wrapped her arm around Chika, and rubbed her shoulder softly.
Getting a few different collections of events spun together eventually provided clarity for Chika, as well as the same realization that Misaki already came to. “We have to help Nami. We have to free her from whatever this is. They could make her into something horrible, the antithesis of everything she stands for, and she would only blame herself for not being strong enough to resist.”
But how to go about it? She envisioned the three of them attempting to tackle her at the same time. Even like this, she was nimble and confident in her body, despite the load she needed to carry. The parasite clinging to her might be able to steal those skills for itself and turn all that against them. At the very least, a dark side Namiko was a prospect that made her heart hurt, especially when Dwight never gave them an unkind look or a cruel word.
Conferring with Yuka, Chika considered a reconnaissance mission for the two of them to assess their chances of detaching the wristband. Although, whatever had control would likely suspect that Yuka and Chika were working together and might preemptively threaten their friend to get a hold of them. They needed someone on their side who wouldn’t immediately raise warning flags. Of their group, they figured ruling out the “adults“ might be the best idea. Yuka made reference to that idea and soon recognized the humor, as Misaki and Chika were both far more adult than her.
But the Sasaki moms didn’t deserve to be drawn into this quagmire during a relaxing weekend. Eventually, but not now and not for this. Trying not to lean into the superstitions she studied for this trip, Misaki‘s brain couldn’t help but point out that so many groups around them clustered into sets of four. Four Sasakis. Four travelers. And four classmates of Yuka. Of course, that was an entirely arbitrary grouping. Groups could be made up of siblings and relatives. But it still bothered her. At least they only knew three older acquaintances, with just two of them present.
Of their remaining options, Yuka vetoed bringing in her sister because she worried about whether she would be able to protect herself if Nami reacted violently. Ayame wasn’t a bad choice, considering her skills and abilities, but it might also take an inordinate amount of awkward explanations to bring her up to speed. Yuka noted she would welcome the prospect of strange, controlling forces they had to sneak around. Before she found her own life to live, she had to tiptoe around her ailing mothers for even a moment of peace.
The façade of this controller called so much into question. What Ayame kindly expressed to her as her personal truth could’ve been one more illusion conjured up by this thing. All those metaphorical layers she said were there could’ve just been what she comprehended of these wristbands. Misaki wanted to receive another reading once things calmed down, no matter what she might find present or missing underneath.
Recruiting Bianka to fight a conspiratorial force was probably her dream come true. And she suspected that Kosame would be able to spin a web of complicated, debonair words that wouldn’t arouse suspicions. They were both good options, but something about Naoko felt right. She had a low-key presence, and whatever nerves she might show could easily be written off as normal behavior. Misaki also surmised that she got along with Namiko, which would further assist in their plans. Another good choice was Maharu, or at least Misaki attempted to convince herself that she was, since it gave them reasons to welcome her into their little group and bring her closer to her surrogate mom.
Naturally, Misaki would be the one recruiting Maharu for this task, while Yuka eagerly volunteered to bring her friend up to speed. Chika also needed a target, but she couldn’t decide which of the Nishikawa sisters to focus on. So, she resolved to just try both of them.
Before splitting up to track down help, Yuka and Chika shared a moment of appreciation for one another with kind words and a quick hug. They had even more to share with Misaki, as Yuka caught a mention of a wedding flower girl and wasn’t aware of that tradition. Flower petals were sometimes spread as a ritual of blessing, but by either the couple or the guests. It was an interesting tidbit, and Yuka conceded that she wasn’t an expert on weddings, but still, she thought about mentioning it. For Misaki, it practically seemed like a torpedo hit in her speculations. Meanwhile, Chika shared her gratitude that her best friend freed her from yet another restraint on expressing her true self.
Walking back to the rest of the group was deeply surreal for Misaki, almost as strange as walking back from the cliff of oblivion to a normal life. She imagined that some in that position might find the speed, preoccupations, and issues of the world trite and frail. But she didn’t mind them. The frantic feeling of reality would eventually hit and clobber her over the head again. Although, maybe she didn’t want to return to that same frantic madhouse where probing, scrutinizing, and controlling were conceded as part of the terms of service of contemporary life. Finding time for that delayed sulfur soak would be a good start instead.
But the little things—the happy and silly little things—truly felt like what made life worth living. Naoko sneaking those cookies and lamenting their added caloric presence. Bianka struggling to take incongruent fragments of her world and stitch them together into some grand design that foretold who the good guys and the bad guys really were. Granted, she probably had something there. Kosame struggling to vigorously and lyrically embody her love in ways that felt so strange and antiquated yet crucial for her. And she discovered fresh preoccupations when she tracked down Maharu.
The girl had claimed a section of wall verging on a corner with her legs up and her head down slightly. She appeared melancholy but not morose, and she greeted Misaki with a restrained but animated wave.
Misaki soon learned that the girl rushed away from breakfast because a group of older guests had discussed a card game session starting soon, and she was eager to ply her skills and hopes in competition. The structure of the game was not far removed from hearts with similar suits. This world, however, labeled them by ace, queen, princess, and dancer before getting into the same number sets. This assortment of cards was themed around fruits and had double the quantity of a fifth suit of comical papayas. You could only earn negative points rather than collecting a set and reversing the trick-taking. Maharu was eager for the challenge, or at least she thought she was.
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Scuffing her feet against the floor quietly, Maharu wielded a faint, wistful smile as she noted, "They've been playing this particular card game for many years… And I surprised them. They had no idea that anyone’s score could go so low. I broke the counter. Four digits. I did my best. Honestly, truly I did my best, and the other players confessed to actually trying to help me in one of the later games, but it was a fruitless cause. Well, I made them happy and provided plenty of amusement. That’s something, right?"
Misaki readily agreed that was important. It didn’t help Maharu’s mood much. Maharu asked, point blank, “Am I cursed? I’m sorry to lay that question on you, and I doubt you know the answer. But I don’t need answers; just tell me what you feel when you look at me and…all you know.”
Of course, Misaki saw enough ambiguity in that to wield the same soothing words she offered Maharu last night. You are not one thing that happened to you a long time ago. You are not your pain and loss. You need to live! But, despite her newfound confidence, pressing this love into Maharu today felt more like trying to embrace water without letting it slip through her grasp. An impossible task.
Maharu acknowledged that everything Misaki told her was still correct. She wasn’t being down on herself, she promised, but rather just realistic. No matter what Misaki valiantly attempted to say, Maharu had a clear and sober response. Her words weren’t bitter, but rather cold and sharp. Misaki had been to the same place—to the edge. Maharu nodded, as though she understood this shared truth without her saying it directly. Perhaps it was glass half empty versus glass half full. Maybe she just missed her mothers so desperately. Misaki attempted to remind her of all the joys she expressed, the playful laughter, and the cheerful energy. What happened to it?
Solemnly, with her mouth quivering, Maharu answered, "Sometimes, clowns cry the hardest. They understand the heights of joy and the depths of sadness. I know I have the most beautiful things surrounding me and desperately caring for me, like an insistent little puppy doing its best. That’s the most painful part, because I know those who care for me want to do so much to help. And my mind blazes with the blissful hopes of a child who wants to live in the best way. But that child died all those years ago, and what’s left of her desperately struggles to drag herself along, so others don’t get sad. Thank you for caring about me. Thank you to everyone for everything. I do my best to fight for every smile for everyone’s sake, especially in the hopes that my mothers can see them too. But I just want to go home."
Misaki couldn’t let it just be like that. She had to find something; she had to be better and stronger to solve the suffering, to solve so much pain with everything she had inside. How did Namiko make it look so easy when she was in control of her cheerful faculties? It wasn’t easy. If only she had her, if only she had someone else she could lean on to find the perfect combination of words that would slip into a lock in the darkness and free the light. Clammy, sweaty pain surrounded her neck and desperately threatened to pop out the same dry, irritated skin that Yuka had to hide out of sight. Raw, desperate coughs rumbled through Misaki‘s throat as she struggled for a handhold without direction. Ultimately, Maharu came to her aid rather than the other way around.
She patted her on the back and got her a little cup of water to drink from. She sat beside her with a look of concern and made sure she could breathe, checking that she wasn’t having any of the same problems that caused the scare last night. Misaki lamented her helplessness and resigned her abilities even as her young charge calmly brightened with a flicker of quiet light. She stuck her tongue out and admonished Misaki for presuming that she had some sort of magical ability to make all her sad thoughts go away, all her losses lighten and soften, and all the problems fix themselves with a wave of her hand. That just wasn’t possible, but she deeply appreciated how much the girl wanted to help, and her kind words last night did have a special sort of power in her mind; she just needed to want them and lift herself higher.
Not even the most adamant force could keep a ball in the air that sought the ground. But if it filled itself with helium and dreams of skyward journeys, then kicks were barely even necessary, and you’d have to fight more to keep it down than anything else. She said that was one of the silly little metaphors that her grandmother sometimes shared but never gave a clear answer about.
Listening to that, some of Misaki’s clinging sweat started to evaporate. The desperation and the pain soothed, and she could breathe without fighting to move heaven and earth for her own life and this girl’s. She bounced out the notion of leading a horse to water, which gave Maharu the giggles as she pantomimed and clopped around as the most awkward equine. She needed coconuts to smack together messily, based on a comedy group that crossed worlds, but the service desk was all out, so some tangerines had to suffice.
Eventually, those tangerines had to go in their mouths, with groaning noises more like massive dinosaurs or charging elephants emanating from around the nibbled fruit skin. They both tumbled over in uproarious laughter as every lady who passed by cast a suspicious look as though they were mad.
They both desperately wanted to leap and bound into the nearest hot spring bath, strip away the layers, and bloom in cheerful bounty. Maharu rubbed the top of her shimmering, blue-toned head as though some unreachable itch poked inches above her skull and she couldn’t quite get at it. Her foot wiggled and stretched before finally settling down. Misaki had a random thought that the girl was acting like a feisty rabbit, but she’d already given out a silly horse analogy, so she just expressed the quiet hope that she was feeling better.
Maharu admitted that she was about the same, with all the patches of darkness and light, but she appreciated Misaki‘s attempts to cheer her up. It was a fine distraction at the very least, and she found that her abysmal game score didn’t really matter as much. At least everyone she played with had a lot of fun.
Follow-up questions about Mari still tickled Misaki‘s brain, but she couldn’t find a clear opening to pry into the details of what the community may have known about travelers staying permanently and whether Mari ever mentioned anything suspicious that might help in their investigation. She would have to stick to the main point.
Compressing so much into the simplest explanation she could manage, Misaki relayed that her friend Namiko was at risk of something dangerous like what happened to her, and she and Yuka feared it was tied to the wristbands they typically wore. Cautiously, Misaki revealed to her that the covering on her wrist didn’t contain it. Alluding to the idea that it was some sort of monster might have helped, but it would likely have been deeply confusing for Maharu. Fortunately, that was more than enough motivation for the young girl to volunteer herself for cheering-up duty. A good soak would have to wait or be part of their "nefarious" plans to dunk the mountain boob lady in the smelly, hot armpit of love.