Yuri Worlds

[87] Prequel

“You both must be so thirsty. Don’t worry, water is on its way. Is there anything else I can get you? Anything at all? Please, just ask.”

Yuka and Misaki kept their eyes locked on Maharu standing across the room. This couldn’t be real, Misaki resolved quickly. This had to be some sort of cruel illusion. She glanced away quickly from the blue-haired girl to check on Yuka, who struggled to clear a cough as light shadings of sweat dappled her brow. She gave Misaki a look before returning her undivided attention to Maharu.

Maharu casually glanced over her shoulder a few times and eventually reached through the wall to retrieve two tall water bottles without labeling. The material was firmly rounded and didn’t crumple easily when grasped. She held one bottle in each hand and approached them confidently with a clear spring in her step. Crouching down, she tilted the bottles out, holding them by the top, and presented them to be taken.

The gesture would’ve appeared perfectly normal to any outside observer, but all of it struck Misaki as disturbingly wrong. They didn’t really have a choice though. The water appeared fine, and they both needed it. Misaki reached for it first, with Yuka slightly after.

The surface of the bottle was cloaked in icy sweat, with several droplets of condensation sliding over Misaki‘s hand. Yuka flinched at the coldness but eventually wrapped her fingers around the base and plucked the bottle from Maharu’s grip. Maharu gave them both a wide smile and gently placed her hands together without rubbing the dampness on her ceremonial clothes to dry them.

The squirt bottle tops easily popped open. They drank softly and experimentally at first before ravenously inhaling the brisk, refreshing contents. A decent amount spilled from their mouths and stained their yukatas. By the time they caught their breath and had been satiated, the bottles were more than half empty. Maharu tilted her head in curiosity, raised her bright eyebrows, and asked again if there would be anything else.

They scrutinized Maharu cautiously before sharing another glance. Misaki grimaced and sighed before asking, “Some takoyaki?“

Maharu dipped her head a few ways, planted fingers thoughtfully against her chin, and noted, "There are many regional variants. In the northern mountains, they like to add hakusai, or napa cabbage, and several other vegetables. A little to the south, they make it plain without any toppings. But, further south, things get a little wild, as sometimes squid ink is mixed in with the better, producing a jet-black variant. And others experiment with zesty ponzu sauce. It’s barely even recognizable in some places; it's more like an eggy creation. And, then, in the big city, you can get massive honkin’ ones. So, what’s your preference, or would you rather sample a variety?"

Misaki watched Maharu speak casually, twisting her fingers a few different ways to illustrate an imaginary map in the air. When the question was finally left to her, she was tempted to look over at Yuka for support, but instead, she took a deep breath and answered, “A variety, I guess. So there’s enough for both…all of us.”

This brought an especially cheerful grin to Maharu’s face, an expression that should’ve assuaged their concerns and warmed their hearts. Instead, something about it felt off and uncanny. Maharu tapped her cheek with a finger and remarked, "Great idea! But that will take a little time to cook. While we wait, let me make you comfy." She gestured with her right hand to an area not too far away.

Slowly, as though the floor were a mass of milky latex stretched over an invisible world, a trio of large, square chairs rose up, released from bondage. Misaki and Yuka fumbled awkwardly atop the surface of the space, feeling as though it were a patch of strange ice sliding beneath them. Slowly, however, it lost its most glossy qualities and felt more like shiny tile. To help them to their feet, Maharu again offered out her hands, but they each managed on their own. She looked a little disappointed.

The chairs provided felt surprisingly comfortable and were not at all squeaky and sweaty, as their appearance might suggest. A broad, low table at a comfortable dining level appeared to join the three chairs into a rough but equidistant T-shape. Misaki and Yuka leaned toward one another and stretched their arms at the sides of their legs. It wasn’t much separation, but it felt like a mile. They set down their water bottles nearby.

With a soft, almost cute sigh, Maharu noted, “There’s a lot to explain, isn’t there?”

"Why did you steal her face?… Explain that!" Yuka’s eyes narrowed, and her jaw drew viciously tight. Misaki supplemented her fury with a glare of her own. Maharu sat up. Her face didn’t waver; she didn’t look sad or nervous. She wore a precise picture of calm, with a faint expression of amusement.

“…I’m just trying it on. And it’s a copy of her face, not the original. But who’s to say the original is really the original? One never knows.” Maharu leaned back, her left hand resting against the arm of the chair and her right propped against the other side with her hand pressed against her head.

"Fuck you… Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!" Yuka practically spat in Maharu‘s direction. The girl didn’t flinch; she just wore a calm, simple, almost bored expression.

"I’m sorry you find this face problematic. My intention was not to cause harm but to show you a friendly look. If you would prefer, I can leave it."

“GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, NOW!” Yuka screamed as Misaki leaned forward to comfort her. The blackness stretched out of Yuka like torn, sooty, gnarled razor wire. It didn’t have the same density as her regular protrusions. Misaki wondered if it was representative of some restraint in place.

Politely, Maharu bowed her head and responded, “As you wish… mommy.”

Instantly, Maharu’s body jerked as though an invisible wire had been yanked, and it took her energy with it. Waves of trembling spread through her body, with her eyes rolling back in her head. Incoherent chokes and gurgles echoed through the room as blackness mixed with icy paleness drew the color from Maharu’s form. Soon, she looked like a human, fleshy ice cream bar left out in the sun.

Horror gripped Yuka at first, mixed with the faintest, clearest traces of hope that the expulsion of possession might bring about the same restoration as she saw when Misaki returned to her life. But this Maharu was dead, or something worse than that.

Yuka fought the urge to cry, and the natural inkling to dive towards the eroding shape of the girl she cared for with a confused uncertainty that struggled toward motherhood. It was like watching a porcelain doll of someone you loved slowly dissolve. But it still held some tiny spark she could feel in her heart. Misaki experienced this intense wave as a mournful broadcast ringing through her too.

Despite how fake it seemed and probably was, Yuka rushed to the side of what remained of the young girl and comforted her just as sincerely as the real deal. Before long, all that remained slipped through the floor as though it were a concealed, absorbent sponge.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that. But those are the consequences of a bitter and rash decision. Okura Maharu is dead. And, when death occurs, something intangible and precious is ceded forever unless proper preparations and accommodations are made. And that’s why we’re all here.” Over by the wall stood another Maharu, clothed exactly the same way.

Misaki took a sharp breath. “You’re the company.”

Maharu tittered gleefully. "Do you know how silly that sounds? The company isn’t a person. It’s not even several people. It’s an idea and an ideal. A chance to realize something beautiful and amazing. To transform oneself and the world around us. And do so….as cutely anime-girly as possible!"

Her last words hung in the air like the echo of a bell. Yuka‘s arms dipped with questioning confusion as a frown tightened on her face. Misaki felt like she got a sledgehammer right to the forehead. The only possible answer was simple.

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

“….Huh?”

Maharu rolled her eyes. “People are always confused by strange, new ideas until they become a new reality. We want to spread transformation. Quantum Helix, Travel Anywhere, and others are just facilitators to that end. And all this is only the beginning, only the prequel to the grand saga we have set. And you both are part of that destiny.”

Confusion absolutely twisted, stormed, and deluged all rational thought. The figure before Misaki seemed like an absolute perversion of what Maharu represented. Maharu was exuberant, chaotic joy and love with a starkly violent twist, represented by the quiet hope that she might reclaim the world and life that had been taken from her and wrestle them back into their intended shape.

Maharu represented the heady, effusive heights of bliss but also the sad and withdrawn fear of an unkind world while still seeking a way to one day trust it again. The warped words coming out of whoever this was revolted her. She let Yuka speak, lest even worse words spill out of her than Yuka had screamed before.

"We? What the hell is all this? Why? How?" Yuka's reaction was strained and angry, but blended with a bitter need to comprehend.

Maharu, although Misaki hated referring to it by a name it didn’t earn or deserve, stepped casually over and around where the other had slipped through the floor before settling back into the same seat.

"Our snack should be ready in just a little while. Till then, I might as well explain, uh… everything. But before that, there’s one itty-bitty matter. Do forgive me for being so uncouth; I just can’t resist."

The two of them watched as Maharu’s hands took an abrupt route right to her boobs. The entity inhabiting her groped the soft flesh, pressed her subtle but distinctive mounds together, and adjusted the folds of her traditional clothes to play up the rounded shape.

"How could anyone resist doing that every chance you get? Practically the pure essence of humanity discovered and rediscovered. Bliss. However, typically, we approach transformation on a level mindful of the spiritual, not unlike the Shimei. Transformative sisterhood."

“Go to Hell,” Yuka hissed.

Maharu adjusted her clothes again and replied, “You want to experience being a boy so bad. Now, not to be reductive about heteronormative roles, but you’ll see a lot worse from boys towards girls in any normal world. Isn’t it so much safer for worlds to just express a truer, softer half?”

In her knee-jerk reaction, Yuka wanted to bark out another, similar response, but she just muttered harsh tones of disgust.

The presence inhabiting Maharu’s body leaned back in the seat and crossed her legs a few ways with pleased expressions.

"I know that Miss Yasuda recently spoke to you about motivations. Power and immortality. Now, I’m not going to say that those aren’t priorities for the company. Those are aspirations for every single living being. Being able to shape the worlds around you, being around to enjoy the fruits of your tireless labor, and having the long vision when it comes to destinations that no one else can see."

Misaki resisted the urge to chime in with a thought similar to what was likely brewing in Yuka‘s mind as well. Let whoever this was pontificate as much as they want and reveal even more than they intend. To encourage them, Misaki leaned forward with her hands posed in thought. She glanced over at Yuka, who slowly slipped on an angrier version of the same.

Clearing Maharu’s throat, she continued, “Despite our perspectives, we are human. So very human. And, human by nature and being, we sought to explore the worlds beyond the one we knew and those between. In those miraculous spaces, we found humanity of a different nature. The darkness and the light. But not as you might know it. We found the essence of all things in its most primordial form. And they were boring.“

To punctuate her point, she snapped her fingers lightly and awkwardly, with more of a scuff than a snap. Still, the nearby wall darkened with a stark black viewing screen as an eye-blinding abyss contrasted with all the brilliant white.

The display showed a great, swirling mass of light and darkness spinning and twisting together like eddies of cold and warmth. Within the brilliance and the depth, they could see deep layers of worlds majestic and cozy, meeting, moving, and facing brief, flowering conflict with pops of light saturating the darkness. Little, warm tendrils wriggled and probed before retreating. Bright, blazing blooms fluttered through the air and were wrapped up in a dance of curious midnight. It felt like such a natural landscape of possibilities.

“So boring,” the inhabitant of Maharu repeated. “With untapped resources and potential that could be shaped and driven towards greater things. That’s where we had to step in.”

Human hands dig into the black masses and carve furrows. Blood seeps into alien soil, and a wave of dark, hungry monsters erupts from the surface, ravenous to feed. They challenge the blooming lights, ripping them with dark teeth. The light recedes into careful cavities, huddled close. Soon, a new variety of long strands of light, like wriggling lava, wrap around the dark creatures. In turn, the black beasts become harder and larger. Great masses of oily jelly hunger with a dozen teeth while fluttering ivory creatures with ornate horns and immense wings slice through them.

"We reshaped and domesticated an entire stretch of reality to meet our needs. A fertile realm renewed by vigorous competition. This mixing, blending, and development of rudimentary energy entities allowed for creations no one could’ve ever imagined—transformations and developments of life into something greater. The ability to rewrite the multiverse with a thought. The truth of humanity to become gods and goddesses. And that’s only the beginning. There were and are so many experiments still left to conduct, to truly understand what we have."

Misaki felt absolutely sickened to see the natural beauty of that first state of being and then witness such a manipulation of it with pride pouring over Maharu’s face. The absolute pain, the suffering, as Mari said, was the point. Here it was, on full display. Foisting some survival of the fittest aspiration upon a realm that didn’t know it, all to achieve greater power from the torture of these beings, of humanity itself.

"How long?" She had to know. How long had whoever and whatever this company was twisted and perverted this world behind the world, drained it of its truth for their purposes?

With another finger snap, the screen went dark without vanishing; a coal-black stain burned into the wall.

"How long? That’s a very good question. We are quite concerned with time. There is so much, yet so little. I have another question for both of you. You may think it’s strange and silly, but it’s important. What year is it?"

That question was met with wary concern from Misaki and tense watchfulness from Yuka. They could’ve lied, but Misaki doubted it mattered. This presence already knew; it just wanted them to say it as part of its game or whatever this was. Perhaps they shouldn’t have played, but hope still lingered that if they listened enough, figured out what was said between the lines, and somehow managed to get out of here… it might be too much to hope for freedom. But they needed hope—and each other, especially.

“2023,” they said, almost at the same time. Religious factors decided the date for each of their worlds with all the calendar details that Yuka shared in bed the other day. But it translated to the same number and implications.

Maharu wore a darkly mischievous smile.

“Not yet. Not even close for so many worlds out there. They’re so far behind. Thousands of years. There’s an eight percent mass difference between each of your worlds. But the differences between your worlds and so many others have been carefully curated. You live in a future so that we can write it for the rest of humanity.”