Yuri Worlds
[7] Arrival
Side effects. They said there would be side effects. Visual problems. This had to be related to that. It made sense. Relaxing her breathing with this assurance, Misaki calmly explained that she was just “briefly” experiencing a “transitory” side effect because of all the complicated stuff that went on with traveling. That sounded like something she could imagine the company would put in one of their documents, and it also avoided difficult questions that Yuka was sure to ask.
Explaining that it was a visual problem, Yuka moved over to her side and wrapped an arm around hers. “I can lead you back to your seat! My neighbor, Ayame, taught me how to do it right with anyone who needs help.”
Misaki fumbled through her effort to clarify that the visual problem was gone, but she also considered the possibility that something similar could strike again, so it wasn’t a bad idea to be led back. Plus, it felt kind of nice to have this cute girl holding and escorting her in such a caring way. She also stopped and looked into her eyes, waving her other arm as much as she could while hanging on to the first aid kit. Misaki communicated that it was improving.
Chika was still filming with her phone turned sideways, but not in their direction. Her friends checked to make sure she was all right, and she just gave a vague explanation of suffering a likely side effect from the trip. The whole situation felt embarrassing, like something Franklin would easily fall into. Easy explanations felt awfully elusive, and every effort at breaking through the mental spiderwebs was more like pointless thrashing.
Without warning, Yuka got even closer than they had been in the bathroom, her face looming and overwhelming her vision, and kissed her twice, like a feather’s touch on each side of her cheek. Misaki felt like she was going to burst from the heat wildly blooming across her.
Yuka endeavored to explain, “My mom. My more experienced mom. The mature one. Well, the one who tries to be. And who is technically a little bit older than my other mom. She believes everything is Shimai. Sisterhood. Everyone is connected, in spite of their birth. We are all one. Even though we are many. Light and darkness together in balance. Love and…other stuff. But the spirits that flow through and from human thought and feelings connect and communicate. I told mine to make you feel better. That was probably way more words than you wanted to hear, but… I hope your jetlag, or whatever it is, goes away.”
Following that, Yuka nervously scampered across the train car to a seat near where she had been sitting before and immediately turned her head to look out the window with the curtain of her hair almost covering her face as well as her neck. Misaki eased back into her seat and inspected the cute curl of dogs wrapped around her finger.
She knew, just out of sight, that Namiko and Chika were giving her the kind of looks that Dwight and Guy would often give when some random girl lingered around adventurously and said ambiguous things in Franklin’s direction. This wasn’t flirting, she wanted to say. Although, she probably shouldn’t assume. This was a girl from a culture where two moms were just how things worked, and they had a lot of spirit beliefs. Now, the clerk from earlier, that seemed like there was something there.
But they were only spending two weeks in this place, technically slightly less. What if marriage resulted from kissing a half-dozen times? And pregnancy from doubling that? They had no real idea how things worked around here. If it was that simple, however, then the company should’ve already known. Whatever…
Yasha emerged from the front section of the train cabin with a black windbreaker draped around her body, mostly obscuring the weird dress with flappy wings she wore. She strutted confidently, despite the motions of the train occasionally tipping her off balance. In her hand, she held a beef stick slathered in a darker brush of color that appeared to signify teriyaki. She tore into it with her mouth, ripping the flesh noisily.
It was rather obvious to Misaki that not only did the girls in the vicinity look upon Yasha with confusion, verging on irritation, but also Namiko and Chika were annoyed. Yuka had turned her head back and appeared flustered. She spoke up hesitantly, “Miss Suguwara? Pardon me a moment. May I have a quick word with you? I don’t mean to interrupt. But I just wanted to offer some information, if you would be so kind as to lend me your ear for a minute.”
Yasha responded by chomping again, flipping back her hair, and saying, “What do you want?”
Their host beckoned her over to speak privately and quietly on the side, but Yasha resisted, saying, “Why don’t you tell the entire group? No need to single me out.”
Adamantly, Yuka tried to make it clear that she wasn’t doing that to anyone, but instead, “I just want to help you.“
Reluctantly, following a hiccup, the strange blonde girl, still wearing eye-covering black shades, withdrew from the middle of the train car and plopped down next to Yuka. The conversation didn’t begin immediately but awaited a careful return to the previous mood.
Smiling slightly and pressing a reserved tone, Yuka explained that eating wasn’t typically done on a train unless it was one of the long-distance, high-speed ones. Furthermore, she urged that it tended to be a private matter dealt with while sitting. This became a jumping-off point for her to amend that the snacking the others did was more in line with proper etiquette.
She summarized essentially, “It’s about respect for the space and presence of other girls in society. It also brings calm to the spirits that accompany us in our lives. What we do together strengthens unity. Now, it’s completely understandable that you all come from a different perspective as visitors and our guests. But your actions also reflect on me. It’s my duty as your host to make sure you’re aware of things like this. Please take that into consideration. Thank you, Miss Suguwara.”
That didn’t stop her from eating the meat right where she sat. Yuka dipped her head but didn’t add anything. Chika and Namiko looked to Misaki. If only the company had placed them with someone else—anyone else—with a tiny iota of respect for the magnitude and possibilities of jumping to other universes. But no, they had to wind up with some spoiled princess who probably did this every month for the hell of it.
So many random people online were like that at Gal Hotner streams. A bunch of goofy requests repeating the same tired memes, usually just incoherent, illegible phrases. Guy was an entertainer though. He could riff on anything and did it with a professional cool that seemed like an absolute mystery to Franklin. Why did he have to put his thickened skin to work though? Why couldn’t bullies of all types just leave the people he cared about alone?
Misaki desperately wanted to fling a punctuated zinger at Yasha, like all the perfect retorts he thought about after the streams were long over. But Guy always laughed it off when he got annoyed at all this, pointing out that these people were literally just throwing money at him to do a dance or jiggle fake boobs, and yet they acted like they were the clever ones. It still bothered Franklin, but Misaki told herself that Yasha would ultimately be the one on the outside, alienated by being a jerk, and they would be having fun together with Yuka and everyone else.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Mercifully, it didn’t take long for Yasha to finish what she was eating. Misaki flicked her eyes to a waste bin adjacent to the door on that side. Slowly, but without complaint, Yasha stood up and dropped it inside. What would the sleeping situation be? Asking for split accommodations could be rude and an imposition on their hosts. Shove the blonde in the attic by herself. Although privately visualizing that possibility filled her with delight.
As though she could somehow sense Misaki‘s thoughts, Yasha stood towards the door and eyeballed her. Her heart strangely thundered harder when Yasha reached up and plucked her massive shades from her face. She didn’t know what she expected to see. But Yasha’s eyes were similar in style to her own, anime-tilted, and a vivid color of brown.
Nothing creepy or unnatural underneath. Certainly not glowing red eyes like in her brief hallucination. Not that red would even be all that weird. They’d actually run across a handful of girls walking around who had vivid hints of red in their eyes, along with very light hair colors. And hers were a sharp tone of raspberry that threaded between traits of purple and crimson.
Taking her eyes off Yasha seemed practically impossible. Surely something darker or more sinister would sneak out, like a human version of that weird spiky carpet thing. Flash for an instant and then recede, flaring teeth to strike like a monster at their host. But she just looked out the window at the landscape streaming by and contorted her mouth as if she were trying to suck some stray morsel out from between her gums. At least she didn’t go so far as to poke a finger in there.
Ultimately, her friends provided a pleasant distraction. Chika, who had been filming everything continuously, replayed a gorgeous segment of sunlight cresting through a glittering building. Namiko and Chika also listed off a variety of entertainment options in the region gleaned from Map app searches, especially focusing on a three-story pinnacle of classic gaming cabinets.
That immediately leapfrogged beyond any version in their world, since every single game would the creation of an entirely different framework of events.
Yuka’s half-reference earlier to a Vulcan sentiment hadn’t gone ignored by Namiko. But it didn’t seem like the appropriate time to pry into what Trekkie fandom looked like in a world of anime girls. So many things didn’t feel like they had reached the appropriate time. So much in a holding pattern despite them finally arriving.
The train eased into another stop, and a circulation of busy passengers swarmed on while a handful left. Misaki‘s gaze lingered on a few with green hair and flowing outfits while attempting not to leer. Interestingly, attention fell on them more than their attention fell on others.
Clearly, their heavy bags and distinct wristbands marked them as something curious. How aware were most of travel between universes? She couldn’t find the right moment or phrasing to express it to Yuka, but she filed away the notion.
Even though Yasha had quit her objectionable activities, Misaki still felt painfully aware of her. She attempted to lose herself in the sweet moments of her friends, but she knew that Chika would organize all sorts of places for them to see and that Namiko would compile a vast array of jokes and observations to spill forth at the right moment. This time didn’t call for her.
Time. Eight percent slower here. It didn’t feel like anyone was moving or speaking at a different pace. Had transitioning into this form also shifted her perceptions? A check of the times already showed a difference of a few minutes. Moments should’ve dragged out, but everything seemed to move so swiftly. New sights and perceptions.
Had she taken enough time to think about how this all felt? The whisper of dense hair swaddled her head with a thick bunching and overhang towards her neck. The mass was barely more than she was used to as Franklin, but the locks meant something else. The shape of her chest had already done so much pulling, shifting, and pressing. She made little discoveries of it, and it responded in kind. Beyond that, her shoulders seemed to puzzle over the addition of a bra. And the sleeping chasm down below had briefly awakened with possibilities. An anime girl. Living art, breathing paint.
It was a strangeness she had slipped into with peculiar ease. Namiko seemed to have come to a settlement with her choices. Misaki kindly offered her shoulder when her friend wanted to ease her particular burden. Chika looked tempted to make a friendship sandwich but instead just lightly nudged as she fiddled with her photography and added a few more shots.
Yasha eventually left this train car and wandered closer to the front. Outside the window, Misaki saw long cement platforms, tight houses with boxy profiles, shining spires, and fresh swells of trees. She counted down the stops Yuka mentioned and anticipated theirs.
The dense clusters of buildings ceded to the supremacy of green. The busy cityscape fell away. It wasn’t totally rural, but large swaths of rice paddies dominated the view. She watched until Yuka started to shift in her spot and collect her things as a signal that they should do the same. Between the last few stops, the train reached a higher velocity than in the city.
They were ready when Yuka announced that this was it. Yasha was the last one out.
The station they arrived at had far more wood than cement, with trees fluttering and beckoning in the breeze. Several curving roads flowed away from the station with long stretches of rising grasses. Old buildings in the traditional style that Misaki was expecting flanked their path. Yuka swiftly detailed what was where, saying that her high school was two kilometers down that way and the new regional sports center wasn’t too far in that direction.
“Miss Okura is way down, almost to the general store. That’s Maharu’s grandmother. Although, she doesn’t seem like a grandmother. My friend Naoko is at the turn right before our house. Ayame is working at the clinic past that now. And there’s Mari, current head of the community center. Kosame and her family are right next door with her sister, Bianka. Our community is modest, but I promise we will welcome you warmly!”
Misaki knew there was no way she was going to absorb all those names and that information, especially with the speed at which Yuka relayed it. She noticed the absence of certain honorifics but didn’t know if that was just a cultural quirk that distinguished this world in other ways or if some transformational translation method was parsing it that way inside her head. The company supposedly didn’t do mental changes, but she had to wonder if the wristband had extra utility there. Additionally, she checked behind and around them for the creepy bundle of black fluff.
All the landmarks that their host celebrated appeared as she promised. She hustled the last stretch, turned with her arms outstretched, and urged them in the direction of an inauspicious building. It wasn’t much bigger than their home. And the front door didn’t have a long lead-up. But Misaki was excited to see more of where they would be staying.