Reimi

  I woke up.

  The transition was jarring, to say the least.

  I didn't move. I lay perfectly still, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

  The bed was soft. Dangerously so. The air was warm. No sirens. No explosions. No monsters. No memory of Kaito haunting my dreams.

  "She's awake! Guys, she's awake!"

  I turned my head.

  They were all there. The four of them. They were huddled near the bedroom door, watching me like I was a live shell that had accidentally been brought indoors.

  A girl with dark brown pigtails tied with pink bands was hovering by the door, clutching a tray. She had Momoka’s face - almost. But the eyes and nose were different. Younger. Sixteen, maybe.

  She was also the wrong ethnicity - Momoka was pure Japanese, she was clearly mixed. She was looking at me with a mix of awe and a bubbly, intense concern on that delicate round face that felt like a physical weight.

  "Are you okay?" Pigtails whispered.

  I blinked. My fingers curled into the blanket. It was so soft that it almost didn't feel real. "Where am I? Am I... Am I dead?"

  "Um..." Pigtails said, her voice small. "You... you've been out for about eighteen hours. We brought you to my house. My mom is a nurse... she helped us get you cleaned up last night. You were in pretty bad shape after killing like a billion of those things. Well, it was more like a thousand but it was still a lot, you know? Oh, and you can call me Maya!"

  I sat up. The room spun. I felt like I was in a "doll house," a simulation of a home designed by a child. Everything was light, pastel, and too clean. The walls were covered in posters of idols. The floor was littered with clothes.

  "Am I dead?" I asked again, not understanding.

  "Um... no? You just passed out. But we carried you here. You were really heavy! I mean, not that you are fat or anything! I didn't mean it like that! I meant you're really strong, obviously... uh... because you killed all those monsters... um. Sorry, we just never met a girl like you. Um. What... what is your name, anyway?"

  I stared at her. My head was pounding. This wasn't the afterlife. This wasn't a dream. I was still in the void.

  But where were the husks? The skeletons? The cold?

  Three other girls stared at me from the door. A short olive-skinned girl with a mixed look, black curls tipped with flaming red highlights, and a red t-shirt was gripping the door frame, her face pale. A homely, skinny Asian girl with glasses in a blue sweatshirt was watching me with wide, nervous eyes.

  And a tall blonde Caucasian girl was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression tense. She was dressed in a yellow and black weekend sundress. They all had auras. Weak magical auras that shimmered around them.

  "Is she a ghost?" The redhead whispered, her knuckles white.

  "No," The tall girl said. "She's not dead, she's just... really weird. I've never seen anything like her."

  "I'm not weird," I rasped, pushing the covers off. They were pink and covered in cartoon flowers. "I'm... This is weird. Where the hell am I?"

  "You're at my house!" The girl with the tray said. "I brought you some food!"

  She shuffled forward and placed the tray on the bed beside me. It was a bowl of rice with a fried egg on top. There was a fork next to it. The smell hit me like a punch in the gut.

  Real food.

  I picked up the fork. My fingers shook. The egg was yellow and glistening.

  "I need to get out of here," I said, my voice hoarse.

  "Don't be crazy! You've been sleeping for twenty hours. You need to eat, and drink, and—"

  My hand snapped out. I grabbed the girl by the front of her shirt, yanking her forward until she was inches from my face. She was so soft, so fragile. Her eyes were wide, her face pale.

  It would've taken nothing to snap her neck, to leave her crumpled and lifeless on the floor of this doll house. It was hard not to think of her as a paper cut-out, something that was just begging to be crushed.

  "Who are you?" I snarled, my voice low and dangerous. "Anansi? Morpheus? Loki? Some kind of shapeshifter? Answer me."

  "M-M-Maya!" she stammered, her voice trembling with fear. "My name is Maya! I'm Maya Hoshino! Please don't hurt me!"

  I was. So tired. Of fucking Loki. And his games.

  Three flashes of light erupted behind Maya. I let out an annoyed sigh.

  I felt something cold and sharp pressing against the back of my neck, right against the base of my skull. I glanced at a mirror to the side. It was the blade of a naginata.

  "Let her go. Right. Now." The Asian girl hissed from behind me, fully transformed now. "If you have any humanity in you, unhand Maya. She was only trying to help you!"

  I didn't even look back. I grabbed her annoying toothpick and squeezed, bending it back into scrap metal with one twist of my wrist.

  The girl gasped, and I turned to face the other three. The redhead was wearing heavy red gauntlets that glowed with a fiery light. The blonde was wielding a mace with a yellow gemstone in the center and buckler.

  "Wait! Don't hurt them!" Maya pleaded, her voice a high-pitched, pathetic whine as she waved for everyone to keep their distance. "Please! We're your friends!"

  I picked her up in the air, my hand wrapping around her throat.

  "I don't have any friends," I hissed, my voice low and dangerous. I could see her pulse jumping in her neck, her face red with fear.

  I should've broken her. But I didn't. I held myself back.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Because she felt like a human, not like Loki's usual bullshit wasting my time.

  I squeezed Maya's throat, and she let out a desperate, choked sob.

  Maya was looking at me with wide, terrified eyes. "I didn't mean to make you upset, I swear! I just want to help you! We all do! Please let me go. Please. We can talk, just please let me go!".

  "Your name is Maya?" I repeated.

  "Y-yes!"

  "You say your name is Maya?"

  "Yes!"

  "Do you know anyone named Momoka?"

  "Who? I've never met anyone with that name. Is she a friend of yours? Did something happen to her?"

  Momoka was gone. Momoka was dust. I'd watched her dissolve into the void. This wasn't a dream or Gossamer Echo. This was something else.

  I released Maya and pushed her away.

  She stumbled backward, nearly tripping over her own feet.

  "Maya!" the Asian girl shouted, leaping forward to catch her.

  I leaned against the wall, my head spinning. "I'm sorry. I thought I was... somewhere else."

  "It's okay!" Maya said, her voice shaking. "It's okay... we all make mistakes. Just... don't do it again. Please?"

  The redhead was still in the doorway, her hands clenched into fists. "We should call the Association," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We should call a hospital. We should call someone. We can't keep her here. We can't keep her."

  The tall girl with the yellow sundress crossed her arms. "She's right, Maya. This is too much. She's too dangerous. She nearly killed you."

  Maya looked between us, her eyes wide and pleading. "No! No way! We can't do that! She's not dangerous! She's not! Just... look at her! Look at her carefully, Alfie."

  "I am," I corrected, looking at Maya. "I am very, very dangerous."

  But she just puffed her face, her hands balled into fists. "No! You're not! You're just lost and scared, like us! We're all scared! We're all—"

  "Maya," the blonde interrupted, her voice sharp. "Look at her aura. That's not normal. She's... she's a monster. Look at what she did to Linda's naginata."

  The Asian girl looked at her ruined weapon and shuddered. "Alfie is right. We can't trust her, and we can't control her. It was a mistake to bring her here."

  "I didn't ask to be brought anywhere," I snapped, pushing away from the wall.

  My head was throbbing, my body aching. Every muscle was stiff and sore.

  I could feel the weight of gravity, the weight of reality pressing down on me. "I'll... I'll leave. I'm sorry for the trouble."

  I pushed past the frozen redhead and stalked out of the bedroom, my feet sinking into the plush carpet.

  The hallway was long and narrow, lined with pictures of the family.

  "Wait!" Maya called out, her voice echoing in the hallway behind me.

  I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. I didn't belong here. This wasn't my world. This wasn't my life. I needed to get back to what was real. I needed to find the exit to this false reality.

  I'd... survived the destruction of my reality. I'd chased that accursed Hephaestus through the unspooling of the 13th. But then I'd been caught in a trap. A trap that was made of a past that had never been and a future that couldn't be."

  "Where are you going?" Maya shouted, running to catch up to me. "You can't just walk out! You need to stay here. We'll help you, I promise! My mom is a healer, a real healer, a Sentinel! She can help you! She'll help us all!"

  I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. Every step was like walking on glass. My body hurt, and my mind was reeling.

  The air was too clean, too soft, too bright. The carpet was too soft, the walls too white. Everything was wrong. This place was too real, too solid, too perfect. I wanted to rip it all down, to shatter the walls and break the windows, to tear it all apart until I found the door that led back to the chaos.

  I had to find out how.

  But most of all I had to find a way out of this false reality.

  I reached the front door. My fingers wrapped around the handle.

  It opened with a creak. The air was cold, the sky was a perfect blue.

  "W-wait, please! We have a lot of questions!" Maya stammered, running after me. "You saved us! How can we thank you?"

  I paused, turning my head. Maya stood in the doorway, her hands clasped in front of her.

  She was so different from Momoka. She was so young, so naive. So utterly clueless about what was happening here.

  "You can't. There's nothing to thank me for. I was just doing what I do."

  "Which is what?"

  "Killing."

  I walked out into the living room. The curtains were drawn, and I could see the sunlight streaming through the thin fabric. I hesitated, my hand reaching for the door knob. I wasn't sure what I would find outside. More of this false world? More of this nightmare?

  "Wait!" Maya shouted. "At least tell us your name!"

  I stopped.

  "Zero, zero, four, two." I said, not looking back.

  "What? That's not a name, that's a serial number. What is your name?"

  I paused, my hand on the door knob. I could feel the weight of the house pressing down on me, the weight of the world. I didn't want to turn around, didn't want to see her face. Didn't want to see the pity in her eyes. The hope.

  "I told you—"

  "Reimi."

  My blood froze.

  I turned around, slowly. Maya was standing in the middle of the living room, her eyes concentrating, her face pale.

  How did she know? I hadn't ever told anyone since... the end. How did she know?

  "Rei for Zero. Mi for Nothing. Reimi. I figured if you won't give us your name... maybe we could make one for you? So, I came up with that. Um, do you hate it? I kinda just came up with it on the spot. Dad says I'm better with Kanji than he is. Not typical for a second gen I know."

  "I... I have a name," I said, my voice shaking.

  "I know. We all do. But sometimes, the name we have doesn't fit us anymore. Like, when we transform, we all get a new one. Maya Hoshino is one thing, but Star Morganite is something else. It's a second chance, right?"

  She was babbling. She was babbling and I wasn't listening. All I could hear was her voice saying my name. My name. The name I'd been given when I stared death in the eyes for the first time.

  "Reimi," I repeated, my voice barely a whisper.

  "Yes! Reimi! Do you like it?"

  "I hate it."

  "Oh." Her face fell. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I just thought it might be a good idea to give you an alias. I guess it wasn’t."

  I looked down at my hands. They were covered in scars, some old, some new. I could feel the weight of my power pressing down on me, the pressure of my aura.

  "It's not a bad name," I admitted, finally.

  "Yeah?" she said, perking up. "Do you want to use it? I mean, you don't have to, of course. It's your choice."

  "I... no." I shook my head. "I already have a name. A real one. It's—"

  I froze, my mouth going dry. My throat closed up, and the words died in my mouth as I remembered two girls clasping my hands, pleading for me not to leave so soon.

  "It's what?" she asked, her voice soft.

  I shook my head, my heart pounding in my chest. "It doesn't matter. It's not important. Just call me whatever you want. It doesn't matter. I'll be gone soon enough."

  Of course, at that very moment, my stomach growled. Loudly. I hadn't eaten in days. I hadn't slept in weeks. I hadn't been outside in years. I had no idea where I was or how I'd gotten there.

  And the very next moment, the familiar scent of strawberry milk filled my nose.

  Green eyes stared back at me, wide and innocent.

  "Come on. Come back to the kitchen with me. Let's get something in your stomach before you leave at least, Miss Reimi."

  I frowned, looking down at her. She was a bit shorter than me, her head barely reaching my neck.

  She was so young, so naive. So clueless about the world. And yet, she was so determined, so stubborn, so kind.

  Just like they were.

  And she was holding out a carton of milk. Strawberry milk. The same kind Momoka had always given me.

  The kind that smelled like a childhood I'd never had. The kind that was so sweet, so perfect. The kind that was too good to be true.

  I sighed, my shoulders sagging. I was too tired to fight, too weak to resist.

  And I was too hungry and too cold and... too scared.

  I took the carton of milk, and then...

  I fell to my knees and started sobbing.