… aika. A voice rang out into the blank void. It was quiet at first, distant. Maika. It called out again, less muffled, carrying with it, a hint of worry and excitement. 

“Mmm…” Maika’s eyes fluttered open. She expected to see the familiar white ceiling of her shoebox apartment but was instead greeted by an unfamiliar wooden ceiling. Confused, she propped herself up using an elbow. As she did so, she felt a heavy pressure weighing down her chest. Worried, she looked down, searching for the cause. 

She froze at the sight; her previously flat chest now ballooned out, “I… I cups?” She sputtered. Maika couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

“I cup? Maika, are you alright?” The silky-smooth yet stern voice spoke again. Maika turned her head toward the sound, and her eyes landed on a beautiful woman kneeling beside her bed. She couldn’t help but stare at her strange features, particularly the two horns on her forehead. The sight filled her with wonder and a strange sense of familiarity.

“Who?” The words came out as puffs of air.

“Hmm. Confusion, shock. Mrs. Ilmondt, would you mind looking here?” A new voice. Maika didn’t even notice the strange man standing until now. “Please look at me, Mrs. Ilmondt.”

Maika pointed at herself, “Me?” Despite its distance, her finger still managed to sink into the soft flesh of her chest.

“Yes, you’re Maika Ilmondt.” The man’s large, round eyes seemed to penetrate her soul. “Did you know that?”

“… No.”

“Hmm, before we continue, I’m Dr. Garra, an apothecarian.” He placed a scaly webbed hand on his chest. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, and I’ll try my best to answer them,” he grabbed a nearby stool and sat down. “Mrs. Ilmondt, do you know who this lady is?” He gestures to the kneeling woman.

“… No.” As the word slipped out, Maika thought she saw the woman flinch. The movement was so subtle, though, she wondered if she had imagined it.

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“Do you know where you are?”

“… No.”

“Do you remember anything? Anything at all?”

Maika shook her head.

“Well, this is concerning.” Dr. Garra said, “I expected amnesia, but not to this extent.”

“Is there anything to help her?”

“Apologies, Commander, but you know how hard it is to find a grand restoration caster. But Surely, you know that.” Dr. Garra rubbed his chin in thought. “If we were on better terms with humans, then we could have one of their restorers come take a look.” He looked at Maika, “Thirsty, Mrs. Ilmondt?” 

Maika brushed her tongue around her mouth and was met with rough resistance. She tried swallowing nothing, and sharp pain penetrating her throat caused her to sputter and cough.

“Oh dear, here you go,” Dr. Garra handed the kneeling figure a wooden mug.

“Here, you help her, she’s your wife, after all.” 

Maika froze mid-cough. Did she hear that correctly? She turned to face the stern woman, and black, sharp eyes met her gaze. 

“Hmm, don’t tell me you’ve never taken care of your wife before?”

“She always took care of me.”

Dr. Garra sighed, “I’m not going to pry into your love life, but a relationship means that you learn to take care of each other, if all the burden is on one person, then their soul weakens.” He folded his arms, disappointment written on his face. “Why do you think she’s in this condition in the first place, Hayamon?”

Hayamon didn’t reply. Instead, she reached out, rested her hand behind Maika’s head, and placed the mug against her lips. Maika accepted and drank its contents.

“Feeling better, Mrs. Ilmondt?”

“Yes.”

“Now, where were we? Ahh, yes.” Dr. Garra placed his elbows on his knees. “You became extremely sick, so sick, in fact, everyone thought you were going to die.” Maika didn’t understand; the last thing she remembered was getting blackout drunk in her club room at the university in Tokyo. She remembered that her name wasn’t Maika but was Benjiro, and he got extremely jealous of his friend because he recently got a girlfriend. That’s right, Benjiro was a guy, for as long as he could remember, he was a guy—an ordinary college student studying to become a businessman, to fund tech start-ups.

Dr. Garra continued, “We expected some bouts of amnesia—if you survived, but not to this degree. Maika, do you know what you are?” She gulped and shook her head.

Dr. Garra sighed. “Well, my job here is done, Commander. I’ll leave her memory recovery exercises to you. Take care of your wife.”