Yuri Worlds

[60] Reveals

Once Maharu was set on this course of finding and infusing Namiko with every cheerful thought at her disposal, her usual rocket-propelled fervor couldn’t be contained. She appeared to have been exercising restraint since last night, but just the minimum amount.

As they were hurrying away to track down her pink-haired maiden friend, Misaki caught a strange vision out of the side of her eyes. It vaguely reminded her of the recession of color and texture across the land at the peak fury of damaging winds, as though the weather were so harsh that it stripped the cel shading presence from reality. This wasn’t a patch nearly so big, but it still loomed at the edge of her vision. It surrounded Maharu in a dulling presence, as though she had a leak.

If she looked at it directly, she feared that whatever it was might slip away, like a creepy cryptid. No one else seemed to glance in her direction or call out this alarming incongruity. Was there something wrong with her eyes? Perhaps she was just again confusing some anime-world trick of the light for a worrisome sight. When she could restrain herself no more and flicked her eyes to look directly at Maharu, she was shocked to discover that the unusual effect lingered across her entire body.

It was as though the girl had been strangely drained by a video game mechanic from some classic, artful title Chika may have streamed once. And the oddest notion of all was that, for this frozen moment, she looked exactly like anyone back home. Like she was no longer an anime girl, just a regular girl with normal, small eyes and bright blue hair with a fresh dye job.

Before Misaki could say anything, it was like an invisible, global filter snapped back in place, and Maharu returned to all her expected proportions and color tones. She had no idea what to think of all that, but she wasn’t going to let the moment pass without saying anything. Asking if the girl was all right was met with the expected amount of energy, with the presence of the last few minutes of melancholy reflection receding in her tone. Misaki alluded to Maharu appearing slightly pale for a moment and asking if she felt woozy or needed something sugary. Of course, the prospect of a quick, sugary snack wasn’t going to pass her by, no matter how she felt.

The front desk had a wide variety of options, and the lady working it was clearly eager to see how big Maharu’s eyes and expression could go. Pink mochi deserved at least a taste. Dangos on a stick got Maharu humming what sounded like a playful children’s melody. They grabbed a whole bunch of senbei rice crackers and finished up with a lovely bean paste block. Half of what she gave them went into a little bag to share with Namiko.

Maharu actually declined two particular treats because one was a bitter, sour plum and too much for her, and the other was like a little baked chick and too cute for her to bite its head off. So, she actually left the one she got to look outside on a sunny windowsill with the sun breaking through the clouds and a gentle ray to illuminate its little chicken face.

Maharu made the lady at the front desk swear that she wasn’t going to throw it away until sunset, so it could watch the entire day pass. Misaki added her own insistent glare before they left. The woman started with a look of casual amusement, which then tightened into nervous panic, and, when Misaki checked behind her, she was actually providing protection for the pastry from coworkers and curious onlookers.

It didn’t take them long to discover Namiko was camped out in one of the lounges with a lap bearing several of the books she brought with her from home. She was reclined quite a bit, with a particular title clutched in her hands and looming over her soft expanse. She waved with a smile and tipped the book to the side.

“Hey! Feeling better? I forgot to ask at breakfast how your walk with Yuka went.”

Not wanting to arouse any suspicion, Misaki kept calm and stretched as she explained that she had a lot to think about yesterday with her little scare, but was definitely feeling better now, especially since the fun walk. Namiko smirked and made a restrained quip about never expecting to find her friend passed out on the floor on a vacation, since she didn’t seem like such a party animal.

Before she could say anything else, Maharu spun around and softly clocked Namiko in the face before twisting to ensnare her arm in a judo grip. Moments later, without any fuss, she ripped the wristband off and chucked it across the room like a spare strip of unused film and shouted, before taking off, “RUN!”

It was at that point that it occurred to Misaki that they hadn’t really discussed what they were going to do about Namiko or what plan they had for engaging her. Maybe that would’ve been preferable to accidentally letting the girl wing it. At least Namiko didn’t appear too dazed from the sudden assault, and the wristband was most assuredly off. Unfortunately, she was soon scrambling from the couch to retrieve it.

Misaki swiftly moved in front of her and frantically attempted to provide some context for what on earth they were doing. Namiko listened to her as she held her sore cheek. She relayed that the wristbands were dangerous and actually caused what happened to her yesterday, and she added that something unpleasant had occurred to Chika earlier. This shot to the top of Namiko’s concerns, as she desperately hoped that Chika wasn’t in the same state as Misaki had been. She assured her that it was more like mind control than the body shutting down. Namiko still seemed quite concerned.

A little bit after that, with slow pants, Maharu came ambling back from wherever she sprinted off to and asked, “Actually, should we set it on fire?” Nami reacted by protectively sheltering her books with her bosom. Misaki did what she could to correct several misunderstandings.

The way that Maharu handled the wristband, she acknowledged, did turn out to be effective, but Misaki found it dangerous, since if Namiko had been under its control, then she could’ve accidentally hurt Maharu. The young girl fundamentally disagreed, but raised her hand and solemnly promised to be more careful. Misaki nervously doubted whether she would follow through on that.

The best explanation she could pack together for Namiko involved a smattering of all the terrible encounters with the wristband, along with their concerns about the company and the monstrous emergence when blood was applied.

After hearing that, Maharu seemed far too eager to open one of her own veins to see the results. They decided to arrange a demonstration out of the way of the other guests. Misaki assisted with carefully setting Namiko’s reading material aside. She’d seen them when Dwight was packing. All by Gene Wolfe. But one in particular made her pause: The Fifth Head of Cerberus. She chose to set that one at the bottom of the pile.

A set of metal tongs seemed to suffice for handling the wristband without activating its feral qualities, although Misaki made sure not to squeeze so tight that whatever it was might respond. With more chopsticks and unpleasantly re-opening the scab, Namiko saw everything she needed to see with the writhing, hungry mouth erupting from the dark surface. She reflexively brushed at her now empty wrist to clear away any invisible lingering traces of what she so recently, unknowingly, wore without a care. Several sessions of ice-cold and steaming-hot water helped her mentally, even though they played havoc with her skin.

It didn’t take Maharu long to come to the same conclusion that Misaki had earlier. She stared solemnly and asked, "So, whoever wears something like this can be manipulated and controlled by that monster into doing things they never meant to do?" Misaki carefully moistened her lips and nodded, relaying how she said terrible things to Yuka as though she were possessed. She glossed over the complications of being a disembodied spirit attached to Yuka at the time.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

That was three, with Yasha as the remaining holdout. Questions of whether they were going to get into trouble about this were countered by the fact that some crazy creatures were inside the wristbands, and that sure seemed like something the company opted not to disclose anywhere in the waiver they signed. There sure seemed to be enough proof to offer their fourth, awkward traveling companion. And, if evidence and words didn’t work, Misaki admitted to herself that Maharu’s left hook would probably do the trick again.

Before they could discuss how they were going to go about resolving this last link, Maharu walked out. It took Misaki several seconds to realize she was gone and rush after her. It didn’t take long to find her in Yasha’s regular suite. The blonde had already strung a length of the rope she made through Maharu’s fingers like an impromptu cat’s cradle. Gleefully, Maharu announced to the others, “She just gave it to me!”

Sure enough, the strange wristband had been removed from Yasha as well, and it sat placidly at Maharu’s side like it was nothing at all. Splashing these darn things with her own blood was starting to get tiring for Misaki, but she provided another visceral demonstration of the writhing, awakened, hungry beast. Yasha had a subdued reaction, but an extremely notable one for her. Her eyes sharply widened; she braced herself, as though ready to run, and scowled at the activity along the floor.

Her immediate response was, “I need to make some very important phone calls,” before briskly walking out of the room. Maharu pouted, quietly branching more loops around her fingers. A moment later, Yasha poked her head back in and added, “I promise we can…do more with that later.” This appeased her.

That was it. All four of the wristbands that they came with. Locking them up together in one place didn’t seem like the best idea, considering the internal directions had a very specific, ominous handling code for safety. Misaki could only imagine them fusing and becoming a literal monster stalking across the landscape like some escaped science experiment.

The only encounter that brought much trouble, aside from her own original issues, was dealing with Chika, and it seemed that happened because she attempted to go it alone. Another quality of her old life that she really needed to get beyond around here and in the future. Friends always help, and it’s okay to tell others things you’re not sure about. Another Misaki lesson for Franklin.

She needed to bring the whole group together and clear the air with evidence and the truth. At least Naoko wound up not needing to do anything risky. Hopefully, she and Yuka had a decent chat. And Chika with the sisters. She always felt that Chika was really good at interpersonal relationships. With all the uncertain but hopeful sentiment between Kosame and Naoko, maybe it would be good for everyone. At least there couldn’t possibly be quite as much punching involved.

Misaki quickly texted Yuka and Chika to see how things were going and hint that she had some great news to share before she settled into the biggest, deepest end of the couch in the nearest lobby. That long-delayed morning sulfur soak sure seemed like the best reward for getting through this entire thing. And some more snuggling with her promised fiancée. Haruka ambled into the lobby and gingerly settled down on the couch several spaces away. She still had that book—that absolutely massive tome she was reading yesterday—blotting out most of her face.

After brushing back her hair, Misaki glanced over and casually inquired, “What are you reading, Miss Sasaki?"

A long stretch of silence passed between them before Haruka brought her head up. Her eyes darted around with more uncertainty than Misaki had ever witnessed from the girl. Emotion creeping into her words instead of the usual, clinical stillness, Haruka responded, "…What? I am… I’m not reading anything. I don’t understand."

That response left Misaki instantly dumbfounded as the large, solid leather presence of the book Haruka was holding remained right there in front of her face, almost as a weird joke that didn’t quite translate between their cultures. She noticed that Haruka made a quick note on a white scrap of paper, like she had before.

Glancing up again, she found herself at a loss to explain the fact that there was now no book in Haruka‘s hands when it was glaringly obvious there was one before. No books sat by her side on the couch, and she hadn’t heard the girl flippantly chuck the book behind her for some reason. It was just suddenly gone. So strange.

… How many peculiarities about Haruka had she missed in all this time? That thought suddenly struck her out of the ether.

She traced her eyes over the unassuming girl. Same swath of bright, brilliant white hair with perhaps a faint hint of a bluish tint, reminiscent of Maharu’s deeper tone. Her eyes had a polished, glossy gemstone sheen of blue radiance that almost seemed to carry their own twinkling illumination within. Her clothes were similar to what she wore that first day when she greeted them: simple, blank primary colors with a lot of white and black set in opposition to one another. Light and dark. But there was something… needling at her brain like so many other important things lately. She couldn’t let it slip away.

Her lovely acrylic nails had an even sharper, sky-blue shade than her eyes. And her bracelets. Haruka always wore bracelets. She always wore bracelets. Bracelets. She had bracelets on. She wore them on her wrist. On her wrist. She had a bracelet on her wrist. Just a single bracelet on her wrist. No, there were two. There had to be two.

Some sort of golden, fancy bracelet—a girly bracelet—that was normal for anyone around here to wear. So, why was she wearing something dark as well? How long had that been there? The black thing, the dark thing, with a sharp presence cutting through like a line demarcating reality. It looked sort of like plastic and graphene, with etched aspects she couldn’t quite discern. Bracelet. Just a bracelet. A normal bracelet. She was wearing… A wristband. Oh, Goddess, she was wearing exactly the same wristband as they wore! For how long? It couldn’t have been the whole time. She was wearing…

"You should relax and take a soak. The water is wonderful. It’s so peaceful. It’s cool…? No, it’s hot, but that’s cool in a different way. Don’t you think so, Miss…Takano?" Haruka spoke with an insistent, even flow, drawing Misaki away from whatever it was she had been preoccupied with. It was strange, like waking from a dream she dropped into for just a moment. What was she so alarmed by? The wristbands, of course. Worries that there could be others out there that someone... that the company might try to put on them. Yeah, that was it. That made sense.

And Haruka was right. She really deserved a long and luxurious soak to clear away everything she’d had to deal with lately. Cozy up to Yuka and find some fun like the last time. That sounded absolutely perfect.

She shook loose the cobwebs, more remnants of Franklin uncertainty that she was working to overcome, and thanked Haruka for reminding her of that.

Haruka smiled back, with a smile slightly too big.