Yuri Worlds
[83] Bleeding
And her current mystery was how on earth she was going to summon forth any drops of blood for this test, which she barely even wanted to do, when some alien thing inside her was now being frustratingly helpful with cuts and wounds. She hadn’t had any problems at the resort when trying to test this last time. What was different?
Well, all the crazy events in the forest with Yasha upending her perceptions of self, reality, and so much else, for a start. That made sense with the timing, but what didn’t make sense was that her finger behaved weirdly before anything weird happened. Assuming that incident meant anything at all. By this point, she had to figure it did. Suspicious incongruities were ignored at their peril, she concluded. So, how would she be able to get blood for this test?
Not that bleeding was something she was eager to indulge in, but at least seeing if their blood had the expected reaction on these wristband entities had to be helpful knowledge. She could’ve let Ceri go first, but she seemed a hair's breadth away from outright refusing to try it. Even though she intended to be precise and careful, the prospect of bringing pain to these little things physically sickened her. But she would talk to them and walk them through every step of what she intended to do.
She considered her thoughts. Maybe that was a good idea in general. She looked down at her hand with the accidental deep excavation from the needle and summoned what she wanted to say inside her head. No way was she talking to her hand out loud, even if the only others present were the girl she loved and a bunch of dark straps with small goo-like beings inside.
Hi… hand. Hello, whoever or whatever is within me. How are you doing? Everything all right? I could be better. A lot of things could be better. For a lot of people I care about. I was wondering if you could temporarily stop the cut on my thumb from being fixed. Just leave it alone for about ten minutes. Would that be possible?
It was a strikingly absurd conversation, and she severely doubted whether any of it was actually necessary or helpful. Scrutinizing her thumb revealed that the giant hole she made was still there, and the dark patch was also working tirelessly. Well, asking politely never hurt anyone. Not sure what else to do, she thought about the spot and spoke within herself as concisely as she communicated with Ceri.
I need some blood.
And the blood viciously erupted from her digit in long, red strands, dripping down her hand and brightly marking the pristine floor. At that moment, Misaki desperately wanted to know how Haruka managed to control and wield her wound well enough to write legible letters. Because this just felt like nervous, volcanic chaos.
She showed off her results to Ceri, who squeezed a rough and torn section of her clothes with concern. They had to do their best to prepare the little one. Returning to where Misaki had placed the scared little band, she framed what she was about to do by making sure it knew that if anything caused serious pain or discomfort, she would immediately stop. The main cluster had receded into curious, jealous whispers, with others grumbling about how bright it was and that they just wanted to go back to their nap.
Step by step, Misaki communicated that she was going to bring some of her blood close to it. Hush whimpers squeaked out as she fumbled with quiet concern and wondered why the big girls were doing this. Misaki wished she had a better answer than admitting it was an experiment to see if dark entities reacted to their blood despite the fact they were connected and enmeshed with them.
A few different versions of that floated through her thoughts until she finally resolved, "We’re in trouble. The girls who hurt you are going to hurt us too. We’re hiding here. And we need to know exactly what’s going on with our blood. With answers… I don’t know. This could be a big help, or it could be completely pointless. I promise to do everything I can to make it as painless as possible for you." And she left it to her—the shy, quiet, tiny sliver of dark material.
The other bands scoffed as they heard it, quietly pointing out Misaki’s own expressed doubts.
"I’ll do it!" The little thing didn’t need more than a moment to make her decision. "You’ve been so nice to me. You comforted me. Mommy is somewhere I still don’t know, but you’re already like a mommy to me. I’ll gladly do whatever you need me to do. Even if it hurts a little. Even if it hurts a lot. I’ve been through so much worse, and I can take it. Do what you need to do. I’ll be strong for mommy. Promise."
Misaki tightened her jaw and resisted the tears licking at the edges of her eyes, wanting to drop. Why was her heart so broken for such a… no. The little girl sealed in blackness wasn’t just a thing, just like everyone she cared about in this world who they had left behind and desperately wanted to find again. Life mattered—all life.
She thanked the little one for her determination and worked with her wound to get a carefully positioned droplet as a crown on the tip. Bringing it close triggered some uncertainty from the band girl. She noted that she felt unsettled but didn’t experience the expected burning. To really know for sure, she cradled a drop and brought it as close as possible to the band without touching it.
The girl in the band, however, bridged the gap between them with a little glossy probing, as though she were that manta ray from Misaki‘s memories reaching out to touch her in turn. As soon as Misaki’s blood made contact, she immediately yelped and dashed back into the confines of her little home. The reaction reminded Misaki of far too many times Chika neglected the right tools or a proper oven mitt when puttering around the kitchen and wanting to do something especially clever with recipes, often for her.
Despite that strong note of discomfort and pain, that was the extent of her response. She communicated that the blood burned her but was grateful that it didn’t reach anywhere close to the level of pain she was used to and anticipating. Nervously, she inquired if there were going to be more tests or if that was it. Ceri fussed around and pressed her fingers against her mouth. She practically tightened her features into a pained scowl before admitting that she should probably test her blood as well.
The procedure for the spike went much quicker with Ceri. She snagged it and jammed her finger into it without hesitation or more than a slight sliver of teeth chewing into her lip. It took more careful maneuvering to bring the dollop of blood over to the wristband. The girl within bravely stretched out a second time and received another anointing.
She responded just like the wristband experiment at the resort, darting away instinctively, as though swiftly splashed by an ampule of acid. It sounded like it really hurt, and her pants and whimpers tore at their hearts, but she swiftly managed to recover with tense grunting, some private coughs, and winded gasps.
"Is there anything else you need? I’m happy to help." The girl adopted a chipper slant to her tone, fighting off her shiest, most demure aspects with a shade of Maharu-like exuberant energy. They both reassured her that this was the final test they needed to run. Acknowledging that, the girl released a diminutive breath and asked if she could be put back with the others. Easily.
Once that was done, a sharp drowsiness saturated the other girls as some gave subtle, stifled yawns while others engaged in obvious, lingering versions, and still others squeaked tiny mutters of sleepiness that soon evolved into vigorous, practically rumbling snores.
It was enough to resurrect a glimmer of Misaki‘s tiredness, barely mollified by their nap. She yawned against her hand as she pressed hard against the tip of the thumb to reseal the jab. Focusing on what she had inside to do its thing again was an option, but she preferred the messy human choice of letting coagulation do its trick.
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She looked over at Yuka—no, Ceri. The name Yuka hadn’t really come up in her mind since their careful discussion while hiding amidst the trees. Acknowledging it felt like a vital reminder. She was Yuka. But she was also Cerberus by choice—the name she wanted for herself and for their future.
Reconciling the names they had to make—ones they really wanted for this journey—required serious discussion between the three of them late into the night, days before they resolved anything. Franklin, of course, had the most indecision and struggle of all, but each of them worked hard on the results.
Ceri had given it an equal amount of careful thought too. Misaki was just so used to thinking in terms of Sasaki Yuka that anything else just felt like a temporary nickname rather than a forever, adult resolution. It was a sticky, pointless issue to dwell on when they needed to put the nursery to sleep and figure out an actual way out of this strange lab-like room, but it did prompt Misaki to compose a question to the little wristband who had helped them. They had asked a question like this before, but Misaki aimed it in a particular direction.
“What’s your name? If you don’t have one, what’s a name you would like?”
The wristband girl she returned to the quiet corner had made soft mutters and uncertain whimpers, like trying to smooth out the covers on a big bed. They didn’t acknowledge Misaki‘s question for a long, conscious pause until the other girls made whispering comments, practically nudging her. Tentatively, she perked up and asked if she had done anything wrong. Misaki assured her everything was fine and reiterated her question.
Bewilderment suffused her answer before she managed words. “No name for me. Not really. I’m not a person yet. I’m not even close. I don’t deserve one. I can dream about it, like everyone else, but it’s pointless. Although, the name Tsukiko sounds really pretty. And there’s one that holds a special place for me, but it’s silly…”
Unprompted, some of the other girls lifted themselves out of general drowsiness and slumber to share fragments of precious names they wanted for themselves when they became human enough. Their wristband friend turned over slivers of words cautiously before taking a deep breath and blurting out, "… Cerb… Cerberus. That’s the name, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be worthy of it. It’s really pretty. Sorry. I shouldn’t even speak it aloud. My mommy looking for me might get upset. I have to earn that name most of all."
Neither of them could breathe as they absorbed what the little one said. There had to be an explanation. Maybe they just fed them mythology, and this particular one latched on to the same fragment of knowledge. That could make sense. Unfortunately, the rest of them started to chime in with similar sentiments for the Cerberus name.
That’s gonna be my name! That’s the best name! Why are you taking my name? It’s so pretty. I’ve thought about it for as long as I can remember. I’m going to earn it by being the best human possible, and then everyone’s gonna call me Cerberus!
Ceri squeezed an arm tightly around her tummy as though she feared there was a chestburster lurking inside that wanted to erupt out of her. She squeezed her hand so tightly over her mouth that Misaki worried she might unleash her dark strength within and crush her own jaw.
In response, Misaki encouraged the wristband with kind words, hopefully hiding the sense of confusion she felt. If she perceived something amiss, neither she nor any of the others showed it as they encouraged the two of them to put them back to bed so that they could have lots of energy for when they inevitably got chosen.
Resting a hand on the crumpled translucent cube reversed it back into its previous position, and a handful of taps restored its opacity. Once that was done, they listened for a moment and called out to the group. A few of them could still hear them, but they were swiftly nodding off with adorable little notes of tiredness sinking into diminutive snores.
They left the table alone and crept over to the nearest wall.
"Cerberus…" Yuka spoke with her muscles tight enough to snap. "Why that name? I thought it was for me. Is my whole life a lie? Haruka said they ordained what we should be. A being of light and a being of darkness. They have a…harvest of beings that want to be just like me. Did I start right here, on a table like this? What is this? What kind of sick laboratory is this where they torture living, thinking, and feeling… People to be desperately afraid of blood? I want to tear them to the ground and leave no… survivors. And my sister, acting like an unfeeling enforcer even though she told us to run. A demon in supposedly virtuous white. Goddess. I just want to lie down and sleep for those thousand years, and maybe things will be better than now, and we’ll stand together without having to hide in the darkness."
Yuka shuffled her feet and shook out her hand from the discomfort of that crude blood draw. Misaki didn’t know what to make of the fact that they seemed to share similarities, but Yuka had no issue with her blood. Did she just have better unconscious control of the process? A new notion hit Misaki, and she halted Yuka before they got too much further into the stark, blank laboratory, with just a few spots of their blood tainting a quiet corner. They hadn’t tried their own blood on each other.
That actually got a curious eyebrow raise from Yuka, evocative of the lady Vulcan they had enjoyed recently. It didn’t take her long to understand what Misaki was going for, although she was wary about opening up their cuts. And she was afraid of finding out that something from her partner might bring harm or push her away. But she soon agreed without complaint, acknowledging that they needed to understand everything that was going on and maybe learn something they could use against the company.
Firm and aching squeezing was just enough to split open the natural biologic process and issue forth a sluggish but still sufficient sample. Taking a deep breath, they carefully balanced a fresh droplet on their palms and carefully passed it to each other’s hand. It was like an awkward iteration of a strange childhood ritual. Blood pact sealed.
In the moments after, they both reached their free hands up to probe the lines of their noses. No dripping. Checking where the droplets had been placed, they were able to witness the blood not only not burn them but slowly shift and darken into a miniature oily slug that seeped in through the lines of their palms. Their reflexive response was to fan their hands and swiftly brush their fingers along the spots, but there was nothing left to remove or react to. Weird. Just another uncertain weirdness.
It made sense to Misaki. On the train, Yuka had no problem interacting with her blood when her cut somehow reopened. Furthermore, holding and hugging the wounded Maharu gave them no problems, pain, or signs of burning. More questions, but at least a little consistency. And then Haruka‘s blood. Had that strange explosion that took away Yasha’s healing factor coincided with it? She had no idea what to think.
A return to a simple festival with food that agreed with her, the promise of even better food from the Sasaki moms, and a quiet night afterward cuddling Yuka on the couch or in her bed felt so desperately far away yet urgently necessary.
In the heartbeat isolating the silence of the room, a strange new sound probed the space and invited their attention. A clicking and shifting noise desperately familiar yet still strangely alien. It didn’t take Misaki long to realize it was the sound of a door being opened.