Kei

  We leave before sunrise and turn towards the forested mountains as day breaks. Crimson and gold fill the sky and shimmer from the branches of every tree. Gentle breezes whirl around us, sending ripples through the dense leaves at the peak of their color. For a moment the light seems to surge into ribbons through the air and imagined reflections coursing through the Earth, and I imagine some force of gravity pulling us toward our destination.

  But the moment passes, and the only impression I’m left with are afterimages in my imagination and lingering dizziness and confusion.

  Bethany has a convertible, and the cool air gives way to warm sun, even with Autumn at her height. This stretch of highway is still quiet, given the hour and the electric vehicles carrying most of the traffic. We speed through the clear morning like an arrow fixed on its target, and before I know it, we’re there.

  Waycross is a small but beautiful city in the mountains of southern California. I’d been taken to my children’s hospital, Hopewell, because it specialized in rare cases and would happily pay for everything, no matter how expensive or experimental, if your problem was strange enough.

  Some of the doctors seem sad to see me leave.

  But now I am in the passenger seat of Doctor Bethany’s Jaguar, watching as someone’s idea of a Renaissance city crossed with The Shire – only upscaled for rich people with all the toys – emerges in front of us. It’s… unexpected.

  Antique street lamps, low stone walls which looked hand laid, more stone tying the architecture together. Probably planned, I think, though I can’t say why I know that.

  “What did you say they did here?” I ask as we shoot down an exit and onto a bucolic two lane. A fierce zephyr reaches out to the trees and scatters a fragile wave of leaves over us, but we pierce it untouched, save for a few bits of foliage in our backseat.

  “Biotech, mostly,” Bethany answers, turning down a drive marked with a large, ornate wooden sign which read Waycross Academy. “Also some AI projects, and remote workers from a lot of other companies.” A mix of athletic fields and carefully tended gardens with paths spread out around us. Other than the trees and scattered flowers, everything is still a brilliant green.

  “They like their gardens,” I observe, mostly to have something to say. I don’t mind silence, but it’s a long drive, and even Bethany can only take so much.

  “The town is mostly about being a great place to live and raise kids,” Bethany explains with a smile. “Anything they can do, they do. Helps attract talent.” What appeared to be a great hedge maze sprawled out to our right, just before we hit the school proper. Which, honestly, seemed over the top, but if you have unlimited money and run out of imagination, why not?

  We pull up in front of a great stone building with immense arched windows. Through the clear panes I could see greenery, as though whoever had done their excessive landscaping hadn’t been satisfied and had worked their way inside. Maybe they had a vision. Or contracts worth too much to give up.

  “If you go to the office, they’ll know you’re here,” Bethany says as she gets out. “And Doctor Lynn will be picking you up at 4. Just call my cell if you need anything. Would you like me to go inside?”

  “I’ve got this,” I say, and I do. No idea if I’ll be fleeing a burning building by the afternoon, but walking in and telling them I’m there for the day? Not a problem.

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  We say our goodbyes and I wave as she drives off. I feel odd. Taking care of me may have been her job while I was at the hospital, but Bethany’s professional interest still makes her my closest friend in the world, so far as I know. And I like being around her, as far as that goes.

  But watching her leave, I only feel relief.

  I shrug and walk towards the entrance. There’s no point to hesitating now. I’m flailing in the dark, so any move I make could just as easily be brilliant as disastrous.

  The sidewalk leads straight to the front doors. I notice the perfectly fitted white stones making up the pathway, the kind of architecture which just screams someone had run out of places to spend money, and were now throwing out words like ‘artisanal’ and ‘hand wrought’ to describe overpriced pavement and concrete. Which also screams that someone bought it. Literally.

  The view is beautiful, though. The sounds around me are all birdsongs and the distant whirr of electric cars and hybrids heading to and from town. And all I can smell is new money and fresh-cut grass.

  As I draw closer to the doors, I hear the clatter of wood striking wood beyond the hedges to my right.

  “Let’s try it again,” a girl says. “Here, just watch me for a minute.”

  I look over there and keep walking until the closest towering hedge is no longer blocking my view.

  A tall redhead in full uniform, skirt, blouse, blazer and all stands there, twirling a 6-foot bo staff in one hand. Without warning she blurs through an entire kata with her staff, then another, and then another.

  To my eye, every motion is perfect. Then again, so is she. From a distance she is another beautiful girl with an athletic bent. But there was something hypnotic in her grace. Something familiar.

  I step off my perfect path and walk across the grass in her direction.

  “That’s all you have to do,” the redhead is saying to someone out of sight.

  “You moved too fast,” another girl says, sounding subdued. “I could barely see you.”

  I almost miss a step. She has been a bit too fast. Not that I’m the best judge, but I wonder how close this new girl is to the edge of what’s possible. Or should be possible. Especially for someone our age.

  “Okay,” the redhead says. “I’ll try it again, slower—” She starts and looks over at me. I must have popped up in the corner of her eye. The staff twitches, and for a moment it moves as if by chance into a defensive position. Then it slides aside. The girl gives a brilliant smile, and her emerald eyes light up like magic. “Oh, hey there!”

  “Hello,” I say, still walking forward. Two more girls appear as I do so. One is shorter and holding a staff much taller than she is, her russet hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looks like a younger, quieter version of her sparring partner, really.

  The other girl is blonde and willowy and has dreamy eyes and a dreamy smile. “Hello, yourself.” A notebook rests in one of her hands and a pen twitches in the other.

  The redhead steps forward and steps up. “Haley Donovan,” she says, reaching out a hand. “Are you Kei Kimura?”

  “That’s what they tell me,” I say, deadpan. For all my memory issues, my name is one of the few things I do know. But I’m sure there’s some comedic value in my amnesia, if only I could remember what it might be.

  “Oh, right,” Haley says with a blink. “That.” So she’s been briefed on everything the hospital knows. That must have taken a full minute. Maybe two. “Well, meet my sisters.” She waves a hand at the others. “Tam and Emily.” Tam, still awkwardly holding her oversized staff, looks a year or so younger than me, whereas Haley and Emily are probably the twins who are my official age. Fraternal, by the looks of them.

  Tam’s big eyes widen, and Emily’s easy smile widens more.

  “Welcome,” Emily says simply. Her pale blue eyes are amused, but also welcoming.

  Tam is clutching nervously at her staff. “It’s good to meet y—” she begins.

  “Wait!” another voice cries out. “She’s here?”

  A dark-haired boy hops up from behind the wall, an oversized backpack clinging to his shoulders and a grin on his face. His face is more tanned than the others, and he’s younger, maybe twelve.

  “And this is Joey,” Haley says almost apologetically. She starts to say more, but the boy talks over her, oblivious.

  “You’re the shark girl, right? I saw the videos online.” He waves a smartphone for emphasis. “Were those fake? YouTube pulled them down, but they’re still out there.”

  Tam coughs, loudly. “Joey, she might not want to talk about that.”

  “You know,” Haley adds meaningfully. “Like we discussed?” There’s a wry expression on her face, like she expected this despite her best efforts.

  “Why wouldn’t she, though?” Joey demands. “If it happened to me, I’d be telling everybody, and showing—” He turns to me. “Do you have scars?”

  Emily steps forward as smoothly as a breeze, and quiets him with a touch, if only for a moment. “Sorry. He’s been really excited to see you.”

  I shrug it off and look him in the eye. “Sorry to disappoint, but no. The scars are almost completely healed.” I hike up my skirt slightly. “You can barely see them.”

  There’s a triple gasp from Joey, Haley and Emily, and even wider eyes from Tam, which I didn’t think were possible. They all stare at my leg, and the faintly visible teeth marks running from my upper thigh to just below my knee. They’re lucky. At the rate they’re fading, they’ll be nothing but a story soon, but I’m fine if they ogle them now.

  “Those… are real?” Tam is gulping in awe, fear or possibly queasiness.

  Patreon page. The first 10 chapters are already up there, even for free subscribers, and you can also see the art which didn't upload to Royal Road.