Yuri Worlds

[92] Escape

Misaki was astonished that they were able to walk away from their cell without alarms going off. She flicked her eyes around every so often to see what was going on.

An expanse of corridors proliferated in all directions, reminiscent of several twisting pearly sea shell interiors laid next to one another. They were headed in a different direction than Haruka had taken to get here, at least as far as they could decode this peculiar labyrinth. No directional signs or decorations anywhere on the walls hinted at where they were or where they were going.

Wandering would eventually give them away. Grabbing and interrogating one of the stray workers who slipped between junctions raised the prospect that Yuka would then have to kill them to keep their escape secret. Misaki didn’t want to put her in that position; they would have to figure things out without that risk. She just didn’t know how.

They rushed through countless stretches as though frantic to get to a destination that was always out of reach. At one point, Misaki reached down to stretch her hand and found that some of the dark fluff of the leg pooled around her fingers like dirty soap with a bloom of bubbles. She lifted the fan-like segment, unsure how she could shake it off or send it back. But looking through the small bit revealed a world uncovered.

Misaki had seen silly little demos online of people removing the polarized portion of their computer screens and turning them into spy goggles that revealed the actual images. What her dark fluff revealed was an extensive collection of active words and symbols snaking across the walls like video projections. Yuka attempted to project a thin layer for herself, but it didn’t work.

The only problem was that the imagery ranged from an inscrutable series of hieroglyphics to Greek letters presented without context. Regular words were decipherable but had no coherent context to draw from. Flyer, Evergreen, Goldbug, Pineapple, Radish… wait, Radish was actually familiar. Along with Bluemoon, that was one of the project names that came out of Ayame’s mouth.

But knowing it was a coded language wasn’t really going to help. She was just glad that whatever translation method essentially worked for her. Or perhaps they just used English characters. After several swift workers passed them without a pause or a glance, Yuka made a stifled gasp of alarm. Misaki nudged her without speaking, and Yuka answered by showing her blank wrists. No wristbands. Damn.

That assumed that everyone on the company’s team didn’t have to deal with perception filtering. She could also imagine plenty of simple explanations for why Haruka might not have the wristbands on her all the time, but not when she was transporting a prisoner. Temporarily, Yuka grabbed Misaki in a hold that obscured as much of her wrists as possible.

At the first available opportunity, they paused at a quiet junction, and Yuka focused on altering her appearance. She clenched her teeth and grimaced hard, with a more animated and emotive expression than Haruka had likely used in her entire life.

Both wristbands, white and black, eventually appeared on her flesh but seemed more like tattoos with a rough interface between flesh and material. The overall haziness did contribute to the sense of uncertainty that Misaki thought they should have. Yuka quietly commented that it felt like someone had twisted her guts around several times like a pepper grinder. Clearly, something didn’t appreciate her mimicking these details. She held on but had to continually brush the renewing patches of sweat away from her neck.

Of the possible routes before them, those labeled Radish and Bluemoon seemed like the best to pursue. But Misaki had no idea which of the two would be preferable. She reflected on the possible contexts and connotations of each. Radish was a food, but what did it mean? It grew as a root deep in the ground. Contrastingly, the moon was way up high in the sky, but she doubted the relationship between the two terms was that precise. Up and down.

She tried to take in more information about their surroundings and even offered up covert peeks at her dark fuzz to see if Yuka might notice stuff that she missed, but the visual trick didn’t work for her no matter what they tried. She did offer a thoughtful idea about the relationship, noting radishes seem to suggest a crop or something dark underground versus the bright, radiant sense of the moon. They had both seen shades of blue and gold with respect to so-called radiant beings. Where would they put the others, though? That stumped them.

It was possible their friends and family fell into a variety of camps with secret conditions and origins that might suggest where they were being kept, but the company didn’t even hint at that possibility. Scanning carefully, Misaki soon chanced upon a different label simply marked “Sleep Time”. That seemed potentially on the nose with what happened at the festival, but it was the best distinction they had to work with.

A new collection of corridors and branches avoided spiraling off in all directions and instead maintained a focused and level set of paths. The order and organization were disorienting by comparison. Even worse was when they ventured out onto an enclosed catwalk above a large, warehouse-like chamber. Countless girls—human girls—were held in what looked like miniature ski lifts wrapped around them as they dangled and waited for their opportunity to ride. With the stark whiteness of the surroundings, Yuka sickeningly thought of a slaughterhouse with racks of meat hung up in an icy freezer.

They managed to find the route that brought them to the lower level. Yuka channeled her anger through Haruka‘s face, watching the workers in white stroll casually in circles with digital clipboards, inspecting the strung-up girls. Misaki could tell that she wanted to use lethal force, but she gave her arm a squeeze, and Yuka continued to play her part.

Each of the girls deserved to be freed and returned to their families. There were so many. Was this normal? Did they just pull human beings out of the world like robots in a show to service, test, and rip pieces out of them to see what would happen? Had they done this to either of them at some point, and they just didn’t remember?

So many of the captives looked vaguely familiar and wore expressions of quiet pain and suffering, as though they were waging a battle with a nightmare they didn’t know had ensnared them. There were too many. Fortunately, Yuka soon sighted a familiar face. Naoko dangled quietly to the side. She was still wearing the beautiful starscape yukata she borrowed from Maharu, which contained fitting flourishes of cosmic rabbits.

They had no idea how they were going to accomplish this aspect of the prison break. Maybe they could just grab their friend and have fake Haruka scowl in explanation that she was busy and not to be questioned.

But it felt like all the workers in the vicinity were machines. They moved at even intervals, made marks on their pads, didn’t expend excess energy on their tasks, and then moved on to the next. Yuka exchanged a look with Misaki, who wrapped an arm around her stomach and felt an illness that burrowed deep in her gut with horror. Why did these activities and this inhuman automation feel exactly like the tasks that were asked of her by her employer? Who was to say that her employer and the company weren’t ultimately one and the same?

Waiting until all the nearest workers were far away with their heads down, the two of them swiftly fumbled with the latches and mechanisms above and around Naoko to unhook whatever they could. It was very heavy and only shifted a little when they pressed on whatever was loose. After a long stretch with no success, Yuka flared her teeth and gave a puff instead of a growl as she summoned a pocket knife version of her obsidian sword to cleave the mechanism. It fell away and roughly tangled on the ground as Naoko nearly slipped out of their grasp.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Attempting to hold onto their friend was exhausting, but Yuka brought out some boy-like muscles peeking out of Haruka‘s arms to help. A pack strap carry worked well enough to drag her clear of the area and over to an adjacent hallway. The wall did next to nothing to help support Naoko, and they had no idea how they were going to rouse her. Fortunately, her eyes began to blink blearily, and she made soft groans.

"Romulan ale? I’m not allowed to drink yet. Aldebaran whiskey? It’s green, but at least I’m alive...right? Where am I?" Her words started as a softly garbled mutter, with her trying to blink away the exhausting illumination of everything. They had to stifle her words when the nervous questions began spilling out. Explaining everything would be difficult to impossible.

"Bad people kidnapped us; Maharu and Miss Yasuda are dead. We need to save everyone we can." All that emerged as a careful whisper from Misaki, confirmed by a nod from Yuka with her big sister‘s body.

Watching the weight and fear settle on Naoko’s shoulders broke Misaki’s heart. Her vague, light expression sank to twisted pain. Her fair, straw-blonde hair didn’t actually change color, but its normal luster seemed achingly reduced. She squeezed around her neck, fighting an invisible mass that threatened to well up. Her crystal-blue eyes glossed over with tears too large for them to hold.

“… You’re sure? She’s dead? Both of them? Where’s Kosame? Are my moms okay? My family. Any idea?” Her voice was a frail whisper, a thready sound that barely escaped her lips. Misaki informed her that they didn’t have any idea about anyone else. They were lucky to find her.

Naoko struggled to her feet. "We've gotta find them, help them. Where do we go?"

Neither Yuka nor Misaki was confident about bringing Naoko into this as an active part of the plan. Hiding her away somewhere safe wasn’t an option either, and there was the continuing matter of whether the forces around them could just spontaneously shut her off again or inject a hostile host. Misaki did her best to convey all these concerns succinctly. Naoko squeezed her hands in front of her face and nodded with a sigh.

She acknowledged it but also added, "They’ve already done things I can never forgive or forget, whoever they are. May the Goddesses have mercy on them, because I won’t. Let’s stop them together and save everyone we can. If you see me losing myself, do whatever you have to do so I don’t help their evil cause." Misaki was surprised by the ringing fervor bleeding off Naoko’s tightened face. Yuka didn’t look quite as surprised.

They still had no idea what to do if something bad befell their friend under the influence of the company. But Yuka promised she would take care of it so that Naoko didn’t hurt anyone.

Making their way along the corridor allowed quiet time to pass, leaving faint traces of secrets, fears, and uncertainties. Naoko soon gathered that there were disgusting experiments done here on little human-like creatures. She said a whispery prayer for Mari and Maharu.

This section of the facility had tight checkpoints operated by solo girls, all in white, the same as everyone else. Areas were distinguished by different, secret colors streaking along the walls. Naoko was able to see them along with Misaki, even though Yuka still couldn’t.

They were in a gray section, but pale yellow led further. Just looking around and attempting to find everyone would take forever and leave them vulnerable to all sorts of terrible things. They had to infiltrate the checkpoint station and somehow get the information. Yuka took a few deep breaths and squeezed her hands into tight, shaky fists. Misaki had an uncomfortable hunch about where her line of thinking was going.

No matter what they did, having no witnesses in the end would be far better. But killing was killing, and the accidental flashes of death in Yuka‘s past as an entity still learning what it meant to be human was one thing; standing in this moment and making the most brutal decision was something else entirely. Naoko squeezed her mouth, as though a tight grip was necessary to keep it from falling loose, and proposed, "Let me do it. I’m a good talker. That’s really all I can do sometimes. I can distract her. If we have to, we can knock them out, tie them up, and put them in one of those weird places where you found me. That should work. We just need to get in there. Even if we try to sneak by, that front window section they can see out of will still give us away. Assuming other things won’t and haven’t already. But this looks like the best way. Okay?"

Yuka wasn’t having any of that. She just got her friend back, and she wasn’t going to risk her safety on a vague possibility. She felt strongly that they had to exercise a more serious option. This prompted Naoko to raise her pale eyebrows and cautiously question what Yuka meant. Naoko made it clear that so many things were going on that confused her, but she was fine with having to wait for answers.

Seeing her friend with her big sister‘s face and form and all the details was just one of those things. However, that same friend implying that they needed to commit murder was something she just couldn’t abide. Justice was necessary, not simply revenge. Blood they shed would be blood that they could never wipe away. Yuka sadly acknowledged this with a tight, stern expression.

"I’m mad; I’m heartbroken. They took me out of my life. I don’t know what they did to others I care deeply about, but they killed my good friend, our good friend. I hope the depths of Hell open up for them and they sail away in the mouths of monsters. But I cannot take a life to balance those that are lost; that’s not how it works. I’m going in there, and I pray that whatever cleverness pops out of me from time to time will show up and provide me with exactly the words I need to say. I wish I had a cool quote from a show or story that I love, but my mind is bereft of any of the good ones. So, here we go."

Before Naoko parted from them to attempt to sway, distract, or subdue the checkpoint guard, Yuka had one thing she wanted her to do. She confessed that the idea wasn’t supported by much, but she hoped it would help. Clutching her friend tight, she let some of her oily essence spill over like gobs of black liquid draining from her hands.

Naoko stood rigid, practically on her toes, about to leap in the air with a mix of uncertain emotions. She accepted Yuka’s "gift" as delicately as possible and watched as the dark mass swarmed and shifted into a bare-bones replication of the uniforms that the workers all wore. Misaki could see that Yuka didn’t look good; the sweat trickling across her skin basically doubled. This was a lot to do, and it didn’t seem likely she could hold it for long, but she nodded to her friend and encouraged her to do whatever was possible, and they would back her up… Without lethal actions.

Not sure what to say, Naoko just gently squeezed the flowing parts of Yuka that had become a second layer of clothes shielding her identity and stepped towards the checkpoint.