Yuri Worlds

[81] Tunnel

“I think I know what this is,” Ceri whispered to Misaki as they crept through the strange tunnel under the Sasaki home.

“A virtual reality access conduit. Or whatever they call that. But in the sci-fi shows Naoko watches, she mentioned episodes and ideas where the characters find these weird hallways that connect parts of a simulation. It’s crazy, I know, but maybe we’re in some sort of simulation? Someone may have put us in it while we were asleep. What do you think?”

Misaki easily followed Ceri’s line of thought. Seeing this weird, impossible space stretching out underground despite being only as deep as the little cellar begged a rational solution to such alien geographies.

Supposing a simulation also invited fresh glimmers of hopefulness. Maharu didn’t have to be really dead, just kicked from the virtual realm. Maybe what they saw wasn’t her spirit but her real body? And the weird, dark entity goop was just something the computer made up. The Sasaki moms weren’t actually turned into pencil sketches; they just had their avatar representations changed. And people freezing in place wasn’t weird. That was just the administrators of the program doing all sorts of video game-style stuff.

It was also a potentially disappointing prospect that all of this might not be real, but it was so much better than the alternative. When could this have happened though? Ceri’s proposal of sometime they were asleep sounded like a solid hypothesis, but the niggling problem was that no moment she could remember invited a separation between the current chaos and some sort of order.

One potential point of divergence she could imagine involved the exact moment they passed through the gateway into this world. At least theoretically. Even though the transition felt instantaneous and seamless, far more could’ve actually happened than they realized. It was a possibility, but not a good one.

If all this was supposed to be a simulation, then that called everything into question, even the nervous, precious heart clinging to her side. Misaki couldn’t do that. She couldn’t dismiss Ceri. Besides, she couldn’t forget the fact that a furry ball of blackness launched for her leg the Friday before the trip. What was it? And why Franklin?

A vague notion orbited her head like an angry electron. Yasha said some weird things about her. Misaki‘s stomach soured just to resurrect those words. Why on earth should she put value in anything that horrible demon said? Because this didn’t feel like something she would lie about. Her attitude seemed to pride superiority. She knew something, and you didn’t. The key variable was whether she was gloating over the correct information.

You have no idea what’s actually happening, do you? No idea, of course. And she was perfectly fine with that when staring down a monster because some things are quite simple.

I wonder, how much of you is really you? How much will I find when I carve you open? What worried her most of all was, if true, the possibility that the dark spiderweb she could wield was an infestation ravenously burrowing into her. Hollowing her out like the nightmare of Yuka’s leg. And a hungry zombie that didn’t know love would be all that was left. She would rather die, one way or another, before that happened.

In answer to Ceri’s simulation hypothesis, Misaki urged that Travel Anywhere sure seemed to have the resources to build something like this. She also proposed that it could be some sort of pocket space, to borrow tropes from other fantastical works. Squashing the potential of Maharu out there, simply taking a virtual reality nap, ready to wake up with a smile on the other side, hurt in a way with lingering aches.

Ceri hesitated in her careful steps along the scraping, deeply echoing, shiny cement, but she didn’t lean away from Misaki or even cast a bothered glance. Those were possibilities that occurred to her as well. She just needed hope, no matter how tenuous, ridiculous, mired in confusion, or worse, that hope might be. Misaki agreed and desperately wished that she could be the bearer of such hope. Ceri stopped and looked her in the eye.

"You are. Every moment I’m with you. My big sister… I have no idea what she’s up to. But she’s not standing with me. You are. When you arrived in my world, I felt an immediate sisterhood with you. Shimai to its apex. Harmonious musical frequencies, or something that Kosame would put far more eloquently. I wanted to take every opportunity to get to know you better. But I was scared and uncertain, like I am so often. Sitting with you on the roof was a life-changing experience. No matter if we disagree or if our feelings clash, I would never trade a single moment with you for anything. You are my hope." She squeezed Misaki‘s hand tight, as though she could convey the best part of her through A single touch alone.

Yuka took a deep breath while keeping quiet with the whisper of her words. "Despite everything we’ve lost. Despite the pain. Despite not knowing how everyone else is or if we’ll ever see them again. Despite any mistakes along the way. Despite how much I wanna cry right now. Despite how I fear these words are a stupid mess that isn’t helping anything. Despite everything, I am me. No matter how my name or life might change. I love you… a thousand years, every breath, no matter what. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing we find in here or within ourselves. If I have to, I’ll be a pathetic little black goo monster that does nothing but slime you with quiet love. No matter what all this is, I know who I am."

They gently bumped heads without it hurting, and Misaki softly answered with a calm smile, "Me too. Sorry. Not quite as eloquent." Ceri rattled a light breath instead of laughing, remarking that Misaki already found all sorts of grandiose and romantic things to say. She was just evening the score. As an addendum, Misaki urged her not to forget what she said. Ceri ruffled her own hair and tapped on her head.

Misaki did the same with a soft pat on Ceri’s head. She momentarily worried that it might come across as patronizing of the dog-like sentiment with her hellhound name choice, but Ceri eagerly appreciated the touch, with her eyes curling in glee and her mouth responding the same. The anime aesthetic made it look absolutely adorable beyond all rational descriptions.

They shouldn’t be messing around like this and smiling. Misaki knew that, and a quiet tightness around Ceri’s jaw, despite her warm and cheerful expression, told her that the girl she loved knew that too. But they needed this. A reminder of so many things, great and small.

Accepting that the concrete tunnel before them actually existed was difficult, especially since the way that it terminated against the cellar didn’t violate any obvious physics but raised a load of questions about how no one had noticed it to this point. Ceri plumbed the deleted folders of her memory to come up with some inkling when retrieving pickled goods that she had ignored hints of bioluminescent bright blueness bleeding from the space.

But there was nothing in her head that didn’t feel like a struggle of pure confabulation. It didn’t even look like anything she had ever seen before. Features of major cities and subways had different approaches to structure than the stark form of this tunnel. That sharply added to the impression of unreality.

Beyond the lights, the lack of doors, access points, and even ventilation ducts puzzled both of them. They had no options for exploration except to keep walking in the only direction available. Squinting at the vanishing point in the distance revealed no curvature or imperfection. It felt like an endless tunnel copied and pasted without a limit. Misaki slowed and gave a soft sigh. Ceri initially continued ahead but then hustled back to rejoin her.

"What’s wrong?" Ceri stretched her arms and legs before rubbing the edges of her eyes for tiredness. Misaki noticed that she felt rather worn out too. The random aches returned without being concentrated on a specific side. She felt tenderized without the relief of it coming from something as kind as a vigorous massage.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Exhaustion. This had to be exhaustion. But the question was whether it came from the events of this evening or some intention of this space. They had no idea what a security system might look like. The column of air that ripped the color and motion from the Sasaki moms may have pilfered something unseen from them as well.

Misaki recalled the thinning of her energy field that Ayame noticed in her examination. The first sign of discomfort occurred soon after they weathered a brutal windstorm that practically stripped the artistic flair from this world. But then she saw similar instances of discoloration without gale forces.

Passing this along to Ceri earned her an affectionate embrace, with her fingers softly cradling her partner’s tummy. Gentle caresses brought noisy gurgles. She didn’t have to go, and she sternly advised her biology that they were done. At least they seemed to be in agreement. Not that she had many qualms left about leaving a mess as her mark in this strange space.

Of course, the simpler explanation was that some festival dish she sampled, although all were delicious from her recollections, had been ever so slightly off. Not everything needed to be a shard of the grand conspiracy. After several more paces without an impression of progress, they selected a stretch of wall no different than any other segment and sat with their backs against it.

It felt exactly like what anyone thought hard, unyielding, anonymous cement was supposed to feel like. The material wasn’t specifically warm or sharply cold. Despite scuffing along the floor a couple of times, leaning against the cement didn’t suggest roughness or glossiness, even with the pristine shine.

It honestly gave no strong impression at all. Nor were there imperfections. Yeah, she could believe that this was the formulation of a virtual reality system rather than a physical space.

At least all the anime visual features remained. Someone just needed to sketch them a way out. They leaned against one another for support. Sleeping here seemed like a terrible idea, but the lure of a little bit of rest was irresistible. Surely shutting their eyes for just a few moments would be fine?

Besides, the space was so starkly bereft of sounds that anything that changed would have to trigger something they would hear, Misaki assumed. Ceri concurred with this but also twisted her mouthline around a few times before asking, “Could you cover your ears for just a moment?”

Misaki glanced over warily but slowly complied with her request. Moments later, Ceri pressed her fingers into her mouth and loudly blew a single, piercing note. The reverberations rattled around Misaki more than any of the walls, despite the insulation of her covered ears.

It was hard to tell if there was even an echo. One more point in the unreality column. Although Misaki couldn’t denounce the possibility that the tunnel contained a cleverly painted wall, fooling them like a classic cartoon. If that were the case, however, she suspected that the sound profile would’ve bounced off it.

After analyzing the results of that blasting whistle, Misaki had to turn to her partner and grimace with concern. Ceri shrugged with her hands. She admitted, in retrospect, that just blowing a whistle was probably a bad idea. But they at least now knew that it seemed safe to make a normal amount of noise. Waiting a longer stretch, they struggled to identify any organic or artificial noises, ranging from a hum to the steady cadence of footsteps.

Their heartbeats, muscle shifts, soft swallows, and joints crashed into the absence of other noises. In addition to that, straining to hear something encouraged their duplicitous minds to conjure up things that didn’t exist. Gunshots, hammer drops, phone notifications despite both of their phones being hidden in a hollow, and even faint ruffles, like bedsheets being disturbed. Despite these sounds screaming from within them, they both drifted into advancing tiredness and drooping eyelids.

Sleeping in a mysterious hallway in a strange underground space sure seemed like a bad idea, no matter what tropes you subscribe to. But they were exhausted on so many levels. They both needed this, even if it turned out to be a flash nap of a few moments or minutes.

Ceri wanted to take a shift watching over them, but she was already drifting closer and closer toward unconsciousness. Misaki watched over her for a few careful minutes while also checking all directions of the tunnel. They had closed up the narrow section of affixed wall behind them that led to the cellar. The way back was clearly unchanged, even though some details appeared indistinct at this distance. The other direction still seemed to stretch limitlessly without holding a cavernous aspect. Having their phones and being able to set an alarm would’ve been preferable.

No snores accompanied their slip into slumber, but Misaki could hear Ceri’s steady, level breathing pattern slide between her own. Everything else could be forgotten. Dreams actually came to Misaki in frantic, jumbled fragments. She sliced the heads of floating squids in space suits in half, imagining they were the secret cabal behind all of this. Cleaving them revealed anomalous pink brains inside.

Just when it seemed that this peculiar scenario might finally arrive at some sensible resolution, one of those phantom chimes, like exploding head syndrome false alarms, broke the silence. It was followed by a stinging sensation in her left foot and a stiff throbbing in her back. Not the best sleep or the best way to sleep, but she felt the worst of the previous drowsiness beginning to dissipate, with Ceri also slowly rousing from slumber.

Looking up to assess their surroundings, Misaki didn’t take long to realize something had changed. It was easy to see exactly what. Across the tunnel hallway and forward several pieces, a door finally emerged. It was a pristine off-white to complement the surroundings. Their initial impression of shiny concrete glinting from the flanks of bluish-white lights returned with unmistakable sharpness. Ceri scrambled swiftly to her feet, with Misaki joining her seconds later.

Rubbing every inch of her face as she fussed with her hair, Cerberus asked her wife-to-be when that showed up, but Misaki didn’t know any better than her. It had simply appeared or been revealed at some point during their nap. Because of the unchanging nature of the space, they also had no idea how much time had passed since they took a rest.

Approaching the strange emergence of the door demonstrated that it was as real as any other. A silver handle latch dipped slightly as though the mechanism were old and starting to wear despite showing no signs of age. They glanced at one another with eyebrows raised and no certainty shared about what they should do. Misaki leaned back cautiously, half expecting the door to burst open and smash them. Cerberus wanted to kick it with the same force she applied to the old woman’s office. They made no further motion towards it until they heard a faint sound drifting from beyond with playful innocence.

Inscrutably, they could hear the sounds of young girls playing nonsense games and babbling happiness. It was almost as though an elementary school playground existed beyond the wall. At the same time, a wider, deeper presence of sound finally started to saturate the tunnel. It emerged from all directions like a great mechanism waiting to wind itself up or an immense throat preparing for a cough to dispel them from its surface. No matter what it represented, neither of them wanted to be around here when they found out what it meant.

They both reached for the door, tugged it with all the strength they had, and furiously whipped it open.