It was almost surprising how much of a difference it made when Akane got back.

Youko hadn’t thought much about seeing her in her full regalia that morning, when she had first stumbled into her apartment. It hadn’t mattered then, not when she passed out in her arms, not when she had seemed so—so lost, so confused, sitting on her couch, her expression gaunt with hunger and pain.

But then again, it hadn’t been difficult to see the girl beneath the magic, not for her. She was Akane, and the outfit, the fire, the cape—

It didn’t change that, somehow. On a level deeper than she could put to words.

But that was then.

And this time, when Akane stepped into the room, quietly—without even cracking a pane of glass this time—she could feel the room freeze.

It was just her and Saki in the living room, finishing the last few adjustments for the stream, but she watched as Saki almost dropped the camera she was fiddling with, turning to the front door with her jaw dropped.

And—okay, yeah, she could see it. She remembered when she had—when he had first seen her, on a shitty cellphone video compressed to hell and back by YouTube. There was something undeniably magical about the way she looked—no ambiguous school uniform, barely any cloth—was just fire and magic.

An undeniable sign that the world had shifted.

As undeniable as Youko herself, now.

Saki swallowed down a gasp, glancing at Youko before turning back to Akane and bowing deeply. “Oh my god, you—you’re actually here?”

Akane fidgeted on the spot, closing the door behind her with exceeding gentleness before stepping into the living room proper. “I—Akane said I would be, didn’t she?”

“I, well, yes, of course, it’s just—” Saki let out what could generously be described as a human sound.

Youko flicked her eyes up from Saki’s laptop, fixing Akane with a half-amused glare. “Try not to break her, would you? Need someone behind the camera.”

“I’m not trying to do anything,” Akane hissed, quiet enough that Youko wasn’t sure Saki even heard her.

…but Youko did.

She pulled in a deep breath and tried to push that aside. Later. I can think about that later.

Saki stepped back, gesturing to the rest of the room. “Well, uh—as you can see, we’re almost finished. We’re just working on the last few tech things—connection, camera checks, you know.”

Akane blinked. “Um, right. Sure.”

She looked around the living room, blinking a few more times.

“This is a lot more than I was expecting,” she said, quietly.

Saki laughed. “Y-yeah, things kinda… got out of hand.”

Youko had to give her that. They had more or less entirely transformed the living room, covering the windows up as much as they could, and draping a huge green blanket over the TV. The rest of the furniture had either been tossed out or moved, to make room for the camera tripod, the two makeshift lights, and the necessary tech. The only thing they hadn’t moved or covered was the large, L shaped couch, both as a place for the two of them to sit and because neither could have moved that beast.

At least, not yet.

It was decidedly more ramshackle than the equipment Youko was used to, but it was the best she could do given the circumstances. They had already tested the lighting, and now it was just a matter of making sure the connection to the camera wasn’t about to break down the moment they looked away.

It was honestly a miracle the darn thing had connected at all—Saki’s camera was a temperamental thing at the best of times. It didn’t like being connected to a computer, even though it was supposed to work for live recordings, and the battery life on it was just—

Gah.

“I wouldn’t really know,” Akane admitted, laughing slightly. “I’ve never done this before.”

She straightened her back, looking around the room. “Is your father here? I—Akane told me that she ran into him out by the shrine. He said he was on his way back.”

Saki tilted her head slightly. “I… no? I haven’t seen him?”

“He might have come in from the back,” Youko noted, looking up. “He likes to go through the woods sometimes. Thinks he’s going to run into Inari’s favorite game trail or something.”

Saki rolled her eyes. “He’s looking for trash, Youko. Like a good citizen.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Saki huffed, then froze as she seemed to remember they weren’t alone. “Um, anyways, he’s—he’s probably fine. Just busy.”

Akane’s lip hardened into a thin line. “Right. Sure.”

“He’ll stay out of our way. Trust me, this isn’t the first time we’ve done this song and dance here,” Youko said, finally stepping away from the laptop. The connection looked stable—both to the camera and the stream itself. As long as the stool the laptop was sat on didn’t wobble, it would probably be fine.

Probably.

Be even better if Saki fixed her damn USB ports.

“We’re pretty much ready to go,” Youko continued. “Stream’s supposed to start in about ten minutes. Already got a pretty good audience so far.”

“Seven thousand accounts, and a few guests,” Saki said, smiling. “Probably have a jump when the stream first starts, and when people start realising who else is there…”

Akane paled slightly. “Seven thousand?”

Youko smirked. “It’s a bit more than usual, but… I’m not exactly unknown, you know?”

“A face reveal is going to draw in so many more viewers, too,” Saki said, clasping her hands beneath her chin. “And the reveal—this is going to wind up on the news! This is going to be incredible for you, Youko!”

Akane’s head snapped up, her face twisting into a slight scowl.

Youko rubbed the back of her neck. “That’s not exactly why I’m doing this, Saki.”

She deflated slightly. “I know, I know, it’s just—this is so cool, you know? You’re interviewing a magical girl, and you look incredible and—”

“And people are dying,” Akane growled, fixing Saki with a hard glare. “I was—innocent people are being shot. This isn’t a publicity stunt.”

“No one’s saying it is,” Youko snapped, before Saki could say anything. “We’re just trying to get eyes on the screen, nothing more. You know that—”

Akane snorted. “Right. That’s why you slathered yourself in makeup while you were doing your ‘oh so important’ set-up, right?”

Youko flinched back, a hand coming up to her face.

She had put on some makeup—or rather, Saki had helped her, pulled out her sparse collection of foundations, lipsticks and blush, and walked her through the basics. Youko, the character, the vtuber had always worn makeup, had made a thing out of it even, with sparkles and stars and more, but she had never actually worn—

“It’s part of her brand,” Saki explained, a surprisingly hard edge to her voice. “Part of—of being Youko.”

“Her brand?” Akane snorted again. “Right, yeah, because it’s oh so important she holds onto her brand of being some guy’s fantasy when we’re in the middle of an emergency—”

She cut herself off, snapping her jaw shut as she looked away.

Saki stared at her for a moment, before slowly turning to Youko, mouthing what the fuck?

Youko, for her part, just stood there for a moment. There was a flurry of—of rage underneath her skin, crashing against the walls of her skin like a storm against the pier.

But—but that didn’t matter, right now. That didn’t matter right now. Akane was entitled to whatever thoughts she had about Youko’s presentation online, lots of people slagged her for the same thing.

The fact that it hurt more now, when it was coming from someone real, someone Youko had trusted, someone Youko felt like she could be friends with—

She closed her eyes and breathed in, forcing the anger down, deeper and deeper.

It was harder than it was before. So much harder. She had never felt her anger this—this presently before, never had it tremble in her limbs, like a howling wind, but pushing it aside, focusing on what mattered—

She had experience with that.

She had mountains of experience with that.

And besides, Akane was—

She was going through a lot. She’d been hurt, her sister had been hurt. There had been horrible things that had happened to her, and—

She was just… lashing out.

At whatever was easy.

And Youko was… an easy target.

A safe target.

She opened her eyes, slowly, her face and breath calm. She ignored the disappointed look Saki gave her and stepped forward.

“We should get in place for the stream,” she said, her voice calm and quiet. “Did you want to go over what we’re talking about?”

Akane bit her lip, not quite able to meet her eyes. “I… do we have time?”

“For the basics,” Youko said, her mind already shifting gears. “Livestreams like this always go off the rails, but that doesn’t mean prep doesn’t help.”

“Right.” Akane drew in a breath. “Okay. Let’s do this. Walk me through it.”

Youko smiled slightly, settling back into her skin. “Right. Uh, okay, so, we don’t really have a script or anything, I just thought—”

The sudden clack of a footstep broke Youko’s focus. She turned to face the back of the house. In the back of her mind, Youko noticed Akane doing the same.

Saki noticed their sudden tension, looking between the two of them. “What’s going on?”

“I…”

The door opened a second later, bringing with it a blast of fresh air, the scents of the outdoors—and something else, something Youko could almost but not quite identify—

Akane relaxed. “It’s your dad.”

Saki reared back. “What?”

Seconds later, a familiar voice called out. “I’m home!”

“Welcome home!” Saki called back, before eyeing Akane with narrowed eyes.

Moments later, the man himself walked in, brushing his hands off as he went.

Saki’s father was a tall man, balding, who carried his age with the look of a man who laughed often. Youko had known him for years—remembered the somewhat awkward shovel talk when she and Saki had dated and trusted him with questions on the few pieces of boyhood she had needed to know.

So, it was more than a little bit disorienting when his eyes crept across the room and landed on her, filled not with almost familial warmth, but a practiced, almost guarded friendliness.

He nodded his head slightly, giving Saki a wry smirk. “I see you brought more friends over than I thought, daughter.”

Saki gave Youko a nervous look. “Uh, that’s not exactly what’s—”

He waved her off. “It’s fine, it’s fine, perfectly understandable—rather unusual circumstances we’re facing today, after all.” He took a step forward, holding out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, young miss. I’m Hirano Takuya, Saki’s mother. You are…?”

Youko hesitated for only a moment, before grabbing his hand. “I’m, uh, I’m Youko.”

If the name sparked any recognition, he didn’t show it. Takuya just shook her hand, fixing her with that same practiced smile. “Beautiful name. Fitting.”

Youko couldn’t help the blush that followed. It was strange—a part of her felt like it was choking up, the horror of a man she knew seeing her as a stranger, but another part—

God.

He didn’t recognise her.

He didn’t recognise her.

Her stomach gave another flutter as Takuya moved on, turning to Akane. “And you must be the woman of the hour, I believe?”

Akane coughed. “Um, yes, yes, that’s—that’s me, Mr—”

He chuckled. “You can call me Takuya, dear. You’ve… made yourself at home, in my home, so I suppose the formalities are rather useless at this point, are they not?”

Akane blinked. “Um—”

Saki cleared her throat. “Dad, sorry. I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but—“

He turned. “Questions? You’re doing a show, aren’t you?”

Saki blinked. “Um, yes, but—”

“Then I suppose I best be getting out of your way then, yes?” He said, fixing his daughter with a smile—

An easy, practiced smile, the one of someone who had spent years dealing with the public.

Not the smile of a man looking upon his daughter.

Youko felt her stomach clench. Suddenly, all the markers of familiarity from Takuya turned into—into something wrong. His breaths a half second too long, his gait half a micron too short.

Without thinking about it, she found herself stepping closer to Saki. “Maybe—maybe you should go, yeah.”

Saki whipped her head around. “Youko—”

“No no, she’s right, of course,” Takuya replied, stepping back— putting himself between them and the front door. “I doubt I could really be all that much help in your present circumstances.”

“Youko, what are you doing?” Saki hissed.

Youko stepped in front of her, gesturing for her to step back.

Youko felt more so than saw Akane look at her, before the taller girl began to move, placing herself between Takuya and the back of the house.

Youko, slowly, nodded her head. “Maybe we should all go, actually—set up at my place. Be a bit of a pain, but—”

Takuya smiled—wide, showing off his gums. “Oh no, you couldn’t do that? Those men, they’re looking for you, aren’t they?”

He turned to Akane. “That is why you’re so afraid, isn’t it? The threat of death, of pain?”

Saki looked between the two of them, her heart pounding (and how did she know that?) “Dad, what are you talking about?”

Akane’s face paled slightly. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s why you were out there, weren’t you? At the shrine? Afraid of the monsters in the shadows?” Takuya continued.

Youko took another step forward. “Hey—”

He turned back to her, his neck cracking slightly. “Although, I suppose, the monsters you’re afraid of are a bit closer to home, are they not?”

That’s when Youko felt it. It was subtle, quiet, nothing at all like the sheer presence Akane carried, but it was something similar. A strumming beat in the air, a pressure that hit her like a wave from the ocean.

It felt like her heart was pounding in her head. Youko swallowed down a wave of pain. “Takuya, sir, something isn’t—”

“Right?” Takuya laughed, dark and deep. “No, you’re right, Youichi. Nothing is right.”

He smirked. “Isn’t that right, Akane?”

Akane’s eyes widened.

Saki blinked. “What are you--?”

That’s when the pain hit her.

---

Youko wasn’t sure if she screamed, or collapsed, or if the room had just exploded in on itself. She heard—noises, voices, a high-pitched scream in the air, but she saw none of it.

Pain lanced through her skull, a sudden wave of pressure crashing down on her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel anything beneath the pain. She brought her hands over her head, curled in on herself, tears streaming from her eyes.

It hurt.

It hurt.

It hurt more than she could imagine, more than she had words for. There was no getting used to this pain, no adaptation. It tore through her with such abandon that each time she thought she had learned its limits, each time she began to understand, the knowledge was ripped away from her. It felt as if every moment was the first. It felt as if every moment would be her last.

You have to breathe.

She couldn’t breathe. How could she breathe? She was dying!

You have to breathe, Youko.

She couldn’t even make herself try. She found herself wishing for death, for unconscious, for something that would make the pain stop!

You have to make yourself breathe.

She opened her mouth to scream, she knew that, but nothing came out. There was nothing to hear, nothing to taste, for there was no air—just space, the endless void of pain and space calling out to her, promising an end.

It doesn’t matter.

Breathe, Youko.

Decide it.

Youko forced in a breath.

For a while, that was all she could do, lying there on the cold ground and force air in and out of her lungs. The pain faded, somewhat, but it never went away, nestling in the back of her skull like a live grenade.

But she could breathe, swallowing lungful after lungful of air. It tasted of nothing, not running cars, not grass, not the indescribable scent of Saki’s house, just, nothing.

It was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.

After a while, when her head stopped spinning, Youko forced herself up, opening her eyes and looking around.

She was not in Saki’s living room anymore.

She had no idea where she was.

The ground beneath her wasn’t carpet, dirt, pavement, or anything Youko recognised. It was black, and looked sharp and hard, like glass, but as she pressed her hand against it, it crumbled away, leaving behind a thin black powder. It seemed to stretch on forever, as far as Youko could see, at least until it met the horizon, a murky, greyish black sky with no more distinguishing features than the ground itself.

Youko swallowed, turning her head one way and other, but it was all the same. An endless, empty void. She didn’t see anyone else—no Saki, no Akane, no Takuya.

Just her.

She frowned. Where the hell did everyone go?

Where did I go?

What happened?

She forced herself to her feet, absently dusting off her knees. Aside from the pain in the bank of her skull, she felt… fine, actually. Nothing was sore, nothing hurt. She felt… okay, physically.

Mentally…

“Hello?” Youko called. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hello! Is anyone there?”

The sound of her voice didn’t echo. It barely seemed to travel—the silence swallowed her words as quickly as she had said them, leaving nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Youko swallowed, holding her arms. She hadn’t realised how comfortable she had become with the ever-present background noise of living in a city, but here, in this true, genuine silence, she found herself shaking. There was nothing here—no noise, no hum, not even the sound of her heart.

“I need to get out of here,” Youko muttered.

She turned around—she thought, at least, but aside from the swirl of her mind it looked the same. She took a step forward, or backwards, or to the side—or up!

It all felt the same.

“Fuck,” Youko muttered again, as much to remind herself that she was here as much as anything. “Hello! Someone, please!”

Again, there was nothing.

At some point, she started to shiver. She wasn’t cold—not even close—but her skin crawled nonetheless.

This didn’t feel real.

She didn’t feel real.

Youko, or Youichi, or whoever the fuck she was kept walking, or maybe she didn’t. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe something else thought she did, imagined it. Saw him, or her, a fat little girl or an anorexic boy stumbling around in the void and thought it was funny, or sad, or pitiful.

He needed—she needed to find someone.

She opened her mouth to cry. “Saki! Takuya! Mom! Someone, please!”

Another step.

“Akane!”

There.

She whipped her head up. She couldn’t see anything, but she felt it—a Something.

A Someone.

It… it wasn’t a feeling that she knew. Not one that Youko knew. It wasn’t a taste, or a sound, or a sight. All she could see and feel and hear was the void around her, endless.

But something else, something deeper sang. Like a bird song, or a cover album—not quite one of a kind, but unique nonetheless. Identifiable.

“Akane,” Youko whispered. She reached out, feeling her sing in tune with Akane for one brief, gorgeous moment.

I’m here.

I’m here.

You’re not alone.

I—

---

The worst thing about hitting your head is that you were never sure what caused it.

Youko had to assume as much, at least, as she found herself bouncing off the ground face first. Something trickled out of her forehead, wet and warm, rolling down her eyes.

She rolled herself over, face up, then rubbed at the wound. “Oh, god. Never mind, I’ll take the damn void.”

She heard an answering groan. “Tell me about it.”

Youko’s eyes popped open. “Akane?”

“Youko?”

She shot up, blinking as, once again, Youko found herself looking around.

At first glance, it didn’t look like they had moved much. They were still on that same sharp and not ground as before, still staring up at that same grey sky, but this time Youko could see the swirl of clouds above her. She could feel the light patter of mist against her skin, hear the sound of waves beneath her.

And she could see Akane, lying on the ground across from her, nursing a bruise on her arm.

Youko’s chest unclenched. She scrambled to her feet, rushing to the other girl’s side. “Akane! You’re okay!”

Akane rubbed her upper arm. “Relatively, yeah. What just happened?”

“Fuck if I know,” Youko said, scoffing. “Did you… were you stuck in that same kinda…?”

“Endless expanse of ground and nothingness?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Think so,” Akane replied, groaning. “And then, before that, Saki’s dad did—something—”

“And made it feel like our heads were about to split open?” Youko huffed. “Yeep.”

“Wonderful.” Akane shook her head, then stood, stretching out her back. “Fuck this entire day.”

“Fuck everything,” Youko agreed, standing with her. “What happened? Where are we?”

“That’s a damn good question,” Akane admitted, cracking her necks before looking around. “Because I… have no idea.”

Youko followed her gaze, looking at the area around them. It looked like they were on some sort of rocky outcrop, jutting out from a larger landmass. Below them by about twenty meters was an ocean, inky black water crashing against a sheer face of rock. Behind them was a patch of soil and grass, leading into a dark forest.

It didn’t, by any stretch of imagination, look inviting.

It also didn’t look familiar in the slightest.

Leaves didn’t normally glow, after all, even faintly.

“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, that’s for sure,” Youko noted, turning back to Akane. “Did you see anyone—”

She stopped.

Akane wasn’t looking at the scenery anymore—she was looking at Youko. Staring at her, really, her cheeks flush and her glowing eyes wide.

Youko cocked her head. “What?”

Akane swallowed. “What… what are you wearing?”

“What am I…” Youko trailed off as she looked down.

The dress she had been wearing earlier was gone, replaced entirely, without even a thread to suggest it had been torn off. In its place was something decidedly different.

She was wearing what could be generously described as a dress. Around her waist she had what looked like a silk sash, tied tightly around her middle. Beneath that was a long, blue skirt, running down to her feet, with a wide slit. The fabric was diaphanous, a white, sparkly material lightly tinted blue. What she couldn’t see through the fabric was exposed by the slit, showing off the entirety of her right leg.

Above that, on her torso, the dress seemed to almost break apart into a dozen thin strips of fabric, twisted into rope. They ran across her stomach and sides, criss-crossing up her body until they reached her chest. There, the density of the strands increased, covering up of her chest with the same glittery, blue tinted white fabric.

The dress seemed to act as a push-up bra, bringing Youko’s breasts closer together and showing off an impressive amount of cleavage. The whole dress, in fact, showed off an incredible amount of skin, something Youko could tell just from how the wind breezed against her back, her sides, and her chest.

Youko swallowed.

The dress—outfit?—she was wearing was nothing like the dress she had on before. That had been suggestive by accident—made so by being a touch too small, a naughty energy imbued rather than inherent.

This—this was different. This was the kind of outfit she had only ever dreamed of wearing, in the kind of dreams that made her wake up in a hot sweat. He never would have even considered trying it out, and even she wouldn’t have thought something this revealing could work on someone so… heavy.

And yet, even though the ropes pressed into her stomach, even though each and every generous curve was exposed… it looked good.

It made her feel good.

“I… I don’t know,” Youko said, looking back up. “I don’t remember putting this on, I mean—”

She stopped when she noticed exactly where Akane’s eyes were. Akane noticed herself, and almost jumped back, looking away as she tried to force a face of utter disinterest.

Youko couldn’t hold back a smirk.

“It’s, uh—it’s probably your magical girl outfit,” Akane said, swallowing. “First time mine showed up was when a monster attacked, so I bet—that’s why. Whatever’s going on was something like—a monster.”

“Right, yeah, that makes sense,” Youko said, frowning. “Bit different from the last one.”

Akane shrugged. “Guess they’re not all the same?”

“Guess not.”

She huffed and turned back. “Doesn’t explain why yours is all—slutty.”

Youko’s smirk vanished. She put her hands on her hips. “Excuse me?”

“Seriously? Look at yourself, Youko. You don’t look like a magical girl, you look like a—a magical girl stripper!”

“Oh yeah, ‘cause sexy outfits are totally anathema to the genre.”

Akane rolled her eyes. “Oh, of course you’re the type who likes the fanservice. Should have guessed that with how much time you spent gussying yourself up for your stupid stream idea.”

“Stupid--!” Youko stamped her foot. “I was trying to get the word out about what the fuck was going on, Akane! We talked about this!”

“Yeah, we did. And then you tried to turn this into some kind of—of what, a publicity stunt?” Akane took a step forward and gestured to some imagined audience. “Oh, look at me, I’m the slutty girl who’s been running a stupid stream, and now I’m a slutty girl in real life! Oh, and there’s this magical girl here, but who cares about her, right? Gotta make sure my perfect mascara winds up on camera!”

“What the fuck did you just call me--?”

“We were trying to do something serious, Youko, not play into your stupid celebrity bullshit!”

“So was I!”

“No you weren’t!” Akane snapped, stomping up to her and jabbing a finger in her face. “You were fussing around with cameras and scripts and makeup, wasting time when we could actually try and fix things, because you care more about being pretty on a camera than actually fighting—”

“Shut up!”

Akane reared back, blinking.

Youko took a few deep breaths. “Jesus fucking christ on a stick, Akane, is this what matters right now? We’re stuck on a—I don’t even know where the fuck we are, an alien planet, or another dimension, or some kind of damned psychic projection! My best friend is missing, her dad was acting weird as fuck and is giving me Exorcist vibes, and you’re freaking out because you’re horny for me, and think that’s the work of the devil or some shit—”

“I’m not—”

Youko threw up her hands. “I don’t care! Whatever self-hating bullshit you’ve got, it can wait! We have shit to do, okay? We need to find my friend and her dad, we need to figure out where the hell we are, and we need to get out of here! Okay?

“I…”

“Okay?”

“Okay, okay, I got it,” Akane said, stepping back. “I’m—sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

She sighed and shook her head, covering her face. “Fuck this year.”

“Tell me about it,” Youko muttered.

The two of them were silent for a moment, before Akane lowered her hands.

“Did you… before everything went to hell, did Saki’s dad feel… off to you?”

Youko nodded slowly. “Right before all hell broke loose, yeah. Felt like—”

“—a monster,” Akane finished.

Youko raised a brow. “Have to take your word on that.”

“Trust me, it’s not something you forget.” Akane’s nose flared, before she began to walk off.

“Akane—”

“I think I have something—it smells like her.”

“Wait, what?” Youko scrambled to catch up with her. “Like, a scent trail? The kind dogs follow?”

“I’d say yes, if you never compare me to a dog again.”

“You know what I mean, Akane, just—seriously?”

Akane stopped, looking over at Youko. “Yes, Youko, seriously.”

She looked back at the forest. “I think… the monster, Saki’s dad, he was here too. He got here before us, with Saki, and then…”

She raised a hand, and pointed it right towards the heart of the forest. “Dragged her in there.”

“Into the creepy, dark forest?”

“Yep,” Akane replied.

“Wonderful.”

“That’s not all,” Akane continued. “Can you smell the other part?”

“The other…?”

“The blood, Youko,” Akane said. “Look.”

She gestured towards the ground. Youko followed her eyes, and couldn’t help the gasp that tumbled from her throat.

On the dirty, just past the rocky overpass was a large dark puddle. Youko had mistaken it for water before, but now, closer, she could see the truth.

It was blood.

Saki’s blood.

She could smell it.