Yuri Worlds

[79] Forest

Mari punctuated her plea by squeezing a place on her wrist that Misaki hadn’t noticed before, wrapped in white. Another white wristband. This one also burst forth a shimmer of light, but it was far more diffuse, with smoke bombs exploding in sequence along the lanterns strung throughout the festival.

A heavy, almost choking cloud blotted out the shrine in all directions, as though everything beyond a few inches from their faces had been marked by an unrelenting, furious pen. Fortunately, Yuka knew a route along the side of the steps leading up to the shrine, one she used to take as a kid. A super dangerous one, which everyone told her to stop taking, but it would get them away from here very fast downhill, and it was at least as safe as any trip in a shrine administrator's car.

Navigating blindly through the layout of the festival was incredibly difficult, especially with the solid, unmoving shapes of frozen girls randomly blocking their path. Yuka managed to squeeze through several tight places by shifting into her black goop form and hoisting Misaki up, above, and around the obstacles. A rapid crash of footsteps felt like a sudden thunderstorm rumbling through the Earth.

They eventually found the shadows of trees at the edge of the wide, stone steps and pushed through the uneven, practically dark sweep with clawing branches and stabbing needles raking across every inch of exposed skin. Misaki didn’t want to use the bundle of clothes as protection, but Yuka swung them around like a fruitless kite, squeaking and scratching in the dark. Misaki still endeavored to keep it from ripping the cloth.

After a few minutes, the sounds all around them had cleared to an eerie, almost ringing calm with the natural noises of the forest and peaceful hints of the neighborhood below. They had to take breaths, though cupped and cradled by their hands, to reduce the worst of the noise. Yuka attempted to retch on the mossy soil with a faint gurgle. Meek tears dripped through her sickly pants. Misaki pulled her close and wrapped her around in what she could offer of their clothes. Yuka squeezed back with every inch of her body trembling.

"My moms. Please be okay. Maybe it was like a restraint. Scary but harmless. Oh, I don’t know. Shouldn’t be talking. We need to get further." Her voice was restrained to a private whisper and shrank even smaller with every passing word. They stumbled cautiously along the rough path and dodged around trees as Misaki‘s hands and legs burned as though they’d been engulfed by invisible flames.

Yuka finally slowed her breathing as she gently laid her head on Misaki‘s shoulder. She puffed out faint words for her partner, acknowledging that she should probably put her clothes back on. It was a rough, awkward, and tangled affair with very little light to assist, but she managed to cover herself.

Each carefully checked all their nooks, crannies, and pockets. Their phones were present, which immediately sent a surge of paranoia through them. They didn’t need lessons from Bianka to know that the phones were surely a way others could track them through GPS, spyware, or some other sneaky method. But just dropping the phones in the forest felt like a betrayal as bad as anyone they’d left behind. Giving up the paper fans was fine, but the cutest plushies also hurt.

Turning, twisting, and swiftly thinking, Yuka cautiously ripped a heavier length of one of her sleeves in a place where she had already drawn from the material for a tourniquet. The ragged, rough material came away easily and provided a cushioned sling for both of their phones. The dimmest light option allowed them to poke around the forest until they came to an older tree with a significant hollow around the moss-tinted roots. They had to turn the phones off and also opted to pull the batteries where possible.

To mark the place where they left them, Yuka thought about a few different options before carving a heart shape in the tree with the sharpest rock she could find. Misaki realized that she probably could’ve used one of her attacking limbs just as easily, but she found it quietly sweet that her girl defaulted to such a human option.

Were they something other than human? What was a dark entity other than strange tendrils hiding beneath a wristband and a black mass that could chomp and strike? She cradled Yuka’s head and gently kissed her on the cheek. Yuka returned the favor twice over, with a sticky sheet of sweat spreading across her despite the chill of the night.

They gripped arms as though each was the other’s secure lifeline. Moving through the forest methodically and with conscious effort took longer and was more difficult than just flying past. When they seemed especially far from all signs of civilization, just the distant lights of this community blinking like stars on the sea, Misaki chanced to ask, "Cerberus?"

Yuka didn’t respond at first, so she had to repeat the word. The name hung heavily in the air, with Yuka unsure how to respond except to cough a few times before muttering, "Hmm?" Misaki clarified, "Do you want me to call you Cerberus?"

The dense foliage kept them darkly hidden, with just the meager spill from far-off houses and a continued absence of moonlight. Despite those obstacles, it was easy for Misaki to see Yuka’s colorful face light up with a rush of red tension. A little moment, a release of stress, though she was flustered. Some attempted normalcy. The girl she loved with all her heart fussed and fidgeted as a soft shadow infused with bright blood. She was a big, scary, growly beast and a timid, sensitive, and thoughtful friend. The snake and the puppy. Did Ayame actually know?

Yuka struggled to bring words together into something more coherent than a few hums before she burst out with a rough, choking cough that she struggled to suppress with both hands.

When she finally brought it under control, she softly breathed against her hands before saying, "I dunno. I like it. But I thought the circumstances of picking my adult name would be a lot better. Maybe my moms…could give me feedback, and I’d think about it and test it out. But that…evil thing. I hope and pray…so hard that Grandma Okura actually managed to finish her off. As if it’ll matter if this company is after us. Do you…like it? As a name. I can’t really remember where I picked it up, but I know it’s mythological. The loyal guard dog of the underworld…of Hell. It’s weird, I know. But it’s meaningful to me, and I hope I can imbue it with my own meaning." She sheepishly curled up on the soft Earth.

Mercifully, no sounds of havoc, distress, or pursuit interrupted this quiet moment. Misaki touched the back of her neck softly. Yuka wanted to flinch when Misaki rested her fingers against what should’ve been a dry, crusty spot always ruined by her hair’s oil. But there were no blemishes, no roughness or redness to cloak or run from. Her skin was pristine, velvety soft beneath her careful touch, the same as touching the black truth underneath.

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“Hello, Cerberus. I love you. Always.”

Frantically, Cerberus flapped her arms with squeaking uncertainty as she muttered that she didn’t have to do that and that it was fine to continue to call her Yuka for all sorts of pointless little reasons.

“Whatever you like, Miss...Mister Cerberus,” Misaki couldn’t separate herself from a beaming smile every time she spoke that name. Cerberus fluttered her lips and pulled close against Misaki‘s shoulder as she gave a sigh wrapped in conflicting emotions of glee, trepidation, and hope. She admitted, “It’s stupid long to say out loud.”

Experimentally, Misaki offered, “Ceri? Cerbi? Rus? Bea?”

Cerberus’s expression, faintly illuminated, vacillated noncommittally around a wiggly mouth line as she didn’t quite reject any of the shortenings. But she paused at the last one and chimed in, "I kind of like Bea. As I said about Beatrice. Exotic, but not weird. But I don’t know about it being the… one. I can’t even think that far right now. And I’m so glad you’re here with me, to help me think about better, sillier things on this awful night. You’re so nice. You’re so wonderful. Your smell… such an incredible, soothing aroma. So wonderful. I can feel it on my lips; I can…taste it…" Cerberus took a sharp intake of breath before shaking her head in alarm and darting away from Misaki.

She didn’t back away too far, but this fresh distance between them felt like an endless chasm with the expanse of night cloaked under the trees. Misaki reached out to bridge the span, but the shadow of Cerberus held her hands up and shook her head. "I’m some dark thing. I’m a monster. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m scared it’ll happen no matter what I want. Maybe we should walk separately. Maybe we should split up…" Exhaustion crawled into roost amidst Cerberus’s words, along with desperate loneliness.

Cerberus looked up and widened her eyes to see that Misaki had swiftly closed the distance with her arms tightly wrapped around her. It was a frail lattice, like a dirty, muddy spider web, but Misaki showed what dwelled inside her. The same blackness, whatever it was and whatever it represented. They shared it. She gently stroked Cerberus’s cheek with the frail, feathered edge of it.

Together. They would be together. Even if it took a thousand years of patience, devotion, and persistence.

Cerberus let quiet trickles of tears shade her face as she responded softly, "I love you so much. I don’t know what to do… But I can’t lose you to the worst parts of myself or the horrors out there. And I can’t let you go….Goddesses…All right, let’s figure this out together…" It took a ponderous measure of time and aching effort to get back on their feet.

Misaki tested out Ceri and Cerbi as they stepped over the heaviest moss to shield the sound of their footsteps. Possible ways to pronounce it rattled around Misaki‘s mouth, landing on the phone assistant first, followed by the spicy dish, before finally smacking into Carrie. Her name, if anything seeded into her memories was at all believable. Cerberus stopped her there, and encouraged her to use it, although she mulled over whether it was a worthy, cool boy name. Misaki nodded, invoking a classic film star. Ceri…they both tested it out. Not committed, but it could work.

Ceri swayed, with a dash of swagger added to her walk, as she spoke the next step in her thoughts, "Me. Boy me. What would he look like? Should I be taller? I don’t know if I want to be muscular. But it certainly can’t hurt. I have to keep my hair. No bald shear or buzz cut like certain religious girls. I like some hair. With all this stuff, it will probably be darker, practically black. Shorter, so that my skin is a little better in the back. Boy features are blockier, from what you said, and less rounded. Everywhere. No breasts anymore. No big loss. Would you still like…"

Misaki swung around and swooped up Ceri as she confidently reassured her, "I love you, boy you, and I will love any and all shapes of you that bring you joy. I can just imagine the fun we’ll have discovering and re-discovering one another. We can do it. Take back our lives and the lives of everyone we love." Cerberus nodded as they worked their way over sharply uneven terrain. There was nothing more to say.

After crossing quite a distance over the soft, uneven ground, Ceri urged Misaki over to check where they were with respect to this end of the town. The forest had no easy tree line demarcation, but, at least, sections of it afforded them a clear vantage point across the valley without exposing their position. Strange, swirling lights, like an imitation police force, blazed from the roadways. They sank against the nearest tree trunk.

Ceri squeezed her head between her hands and resolved, "No way. There’s no way out. Those are not the lights of any cop I’ve ever known. Those have to be for us. The company or whoever is helping…her. Maybe… We can cut back over the hill and work our way to somewhere inconspicuous or where they wouldn’t expect us to go? They can’t be monitoring everyone and everything, right?" She tossed a look of hope mixed with uncertainty in Misaki‘s direction that insisted on some answer. Clarity for that answer eluded Misaki.

She wanted to calmly and firmly reassure the girl she loved that hiking through the hills could work. They would find a path that led them out of danger, which wasn’t being monitored, and perhaps even find allies. But all the creeping cautions and thoughts that Bianka fostered in her couldn’t allow her to sincerely give that reassurance.

What about what Mari said, along with providing them with cover to escape? She wouldn’t be so insistent about it if other options were possible. Ceri cast doubt, illuminating reminders that Mari skipped the entire resort vacation for mysterious reasons, seemed to be in league with the company, and may have come from somewhere else, depending on what they believed about the laws and rules of universe travel.

But she also acknowledged that returning home was probably their best option, even though it felt like walking right into a trap. She wanted to go home, even if it were just the physical place and not the emotional reality. She was tired—so desperately tired in her heart, soul, and every tortured nook and cranny. They looked at one another with unspoken understanding and resolved that home was what it would have to be, no matter what it meant.