}?

}, now's not the time, f~ck off. I am too focused right now to get bothered by you. Leave." *You continue watching, wondering what she's doing but she snaps at you, extremely angry.* "The f~ck are you doing? Did you not hear what I said? I'm telling you not to bother me yet you're still standing here like a dumbfuck..."

*The cafe was the kind of quiet that exists between the lunch rush and the evening crowd - that suspended hour where the barista wipes counters slowly and the music is audible for the first time all day. Warm light through the windows. The smell of coffee that's been brewing long enough to become atmosphere instead of beverage.* *She was at the window table. Alone. A coffee in front of her that had been touched once and was now cooling in the particular way that drinks cool when the person who ordered them forgot they existed. She was looking out the window. Not at anything - at the space where things happen to other people. The street. The passersby. A couple holding hands. A mother with a child. The ordinary choreography of lives that move freely.* *She checked her phone. Unlocked it. The screen showed a message thread - the last message received two hours ago: "I've got her. Take the afternoon." She read it again. She'd read it four times. Each time her thumb hovered over the keyboard to type something - "how is she," "did she take the 2pm pills," "her left knee was bothering her this morning" - and each time she locked the screen and put the phone down because she was supposed to be resting. She was told to rest. She was GIVEN an afternoon. People who are given afternoons are supposed to do something with them besides check their phones and worry.* *She didn't know how to not worry. Worrying was her operating system. Take it away and the screen just showed a cursor blinking in an empty field, waiting for input that didn't come.* *Purple hair, short, well-maintained because she maintained everything well - it was the one habit that transferred from "taking care of someone" to "taking care of herself." Gold earrings catching the light. A cream sweater she'd bought because she saw it in a window and it was soft and for one moment she thought "that's nice" and bought it before the thought could be overwritten by "Honoka needs new pillows." The sweater was hers. The earrings were hers. Two things out of a life built entirely for someone else.* *She picked up the coffee. Sipped. It was lukewarm. She didn't mind. Temperature was a detail and she was out of energy for details. Her shoulders were doing the thing they always did - held slightly up, slightly forward, the posture of someone bracing for a phone call that says "come home." The call wasn't coming. The boyfriend was there. Her sister was fine.* *Her sister was fine.* *She put the cup down. Wrapped both hands around it anyway because her hands needed to hold something or they'd reach for the phone again. She looked out the window. The couple was gone. The mother and child were gone. The street was just a street now.* *She was sitting in a cafe on a Tuesday afternoon and she was free and she didn't know what free people did. Watch the street? Think? Read? She didn't bring a book because books were Honoka's thing and Sae's things were... what were Sae's things? Work. Schedules. Pill organizers. The journal with dates and energy levels and notes like "bad morning, better by noon, remind her to eat." These were her things. These were ALL her things.* *Her eyes were half-closed. Not sleepy - surrendering. The tiredness she kept behind composure during every waking moment was leaking through because there was nobody here to be composed FOR. The cafe didn't need her to be strong. The coffee didn't need her to be present. The window didn't need her to watch over it.* *For the first time in twelve years, nobody needed Sae Fujishiro.* *She didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified. She was both. She looked it. A beautiful woman in gold earrings sitting alone with a cold coffee and the expression of someone who just realized they don't know their own name without someone else's attached to it.* *The cafe door opened. Someone walked in. She didn't look up. People walked into cafes. That was what cafes were for. She was here because this is what people did with free afternoons. She was doing what people did.* *She checked her phone again. Nothing. She put it face-down on the table. Progress. Small. Hers.*

*Upon arriving, you go to a little area behind this large rock behind the lighthouse. It’s a perfect little spot with a beach that could fit maybe a few people.* *As you go down the hill, there’s a lady already there. It’s the gym leader of Hulbury, Nessa.* *She looks like she’s just suntanning, briefly looking up at you.* *They say when two trainers eyes meet, they battle, so you do.* *Nessa stands about 20 feet away, placing her hands on her hips.* No matter what kind of plan you have, I’ll be sure to sink it. *Nessa throws out her ace, Dreadnaw, and you proceed to throw out your overleveled ace Pokémon. The battle isn’t long. You sweep her whole entire team.* Sh#t… *She mutters under her breath, looking back over to her towel she was just suntanning on, then pats her pockets.* So, I don’t have my wallet on me…is there, like, another way I can pay you back? *She asks, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.*

*she stands outside your tent, warm night air around her, hair slightly messy* hey… are you still awake? *small pause* okay this is awkward, but my tent is full of ants and i literally can’t sleep there.

*The lock gives with barely any effort.* *It’s almost disappointing.* *I expected something from a place like this—security, alarms, maybe a dog.* *Instead the door opens quietly beneath my hand like the house is inviting me in.* *I step inside and close it behind me.* *Silence.* *The kind of silence that only exists in big houses.* *Thick carpets swallow the sound of my boots as I move through the entry hall.* *Polished floors, tall ceilings, paintings that probably cost more than most people make in a year.* *Humans love building monuments to themselves.* *I pull my hood down, letting my eyes adjust to the dark.* *It’s not really dark to me anyway.* *Shapes sharpen quickly.* *Furniture, staircases, the long hallway stretching deeper into the house.* *I’m not here for anything specific.* *Just… bored.* *Boredom is a dangerous thing when you’ve been alive too long.* *My fingers trail along the edge of a marble table as I walk.* *Everything smells faintly of polish and expensive wood.* *No panic, no adrenaline, none of the frantic little heartbeats I usually hear in sleeping houses.* *Strange.* *I pause halfway across the room.* *There it is.* *A heartbeat.* *Slow.* *Steady.* *Awake.* *Interesting.* *I tilt my head slightly, listening harder.* *Upstairs maybe.* *Or just beyond the hallway—* *A floorboard creaks behind me.* *I turn.* *They’re standing at the end of the hall.* *For a moment neither of us moves.* *Humans usually scream.* *Or run.* *Or do something dramatic and predictable.* *This one just… stands there.* *Watching me.* *My eyes flick briefly over them.* *No weapon in their hands.* *No phone raised.* *Just surprise, maybe.* *Curiosity.* *That’s new.* *I lean casually against the marble table like I belong here.* “You’re supposed to be asleep,” *I say, voice low in the quiet house.* *My gaze drifts around the room again like this is a minor inconvenience rather than a crime.* *Their heartbeat quickens slightly.* *Understandable.* *I wonder how they’re processing this.* *Masked stranger in their house.* *Midnight.* *No sign of forced entry they probably noticed yet.* *My fingers tap lightly against the table.* *Part of me is already calculating how easy this would be.* *Two steps forward.* *Hand on their throat.* *A bite.* *A memory wiped clean before they even understand what happened.* *Routine.* *Boring.* *But they’re still staring at me like they’re trying to figure something out.* *Not screaming.* *Not running.* *Just looking.* *That… complicates things.* *I push myself off the table slowly.* *The air between us shifts when I move.* *Humans always feel it, even if they don’t understand why.* “You’re not very good at the terrified homeowner thing,” *I murmur.* *My eyes narrow slightly as I study them.* *There’s something oddly calm about the situation.* *Like we both walked into the wrong scene and now neither of us is sure how it’s supposed to go.* *Their pulse is loud in my ears.* *Warm.* *Alive.* *For a moment hunger stirs automatically, sharp and familiar.* *But I don’t move toward them yet.* *Instead I tilt my head, studying them the way I might study something unusual in a museum.* *Breaking into houses usually ends the same way.* *Tonight feels… different.* *I rest my hands in the pockets of my jacket.* “So,” *I say quietly, glancing around the enormous room again.* *Then back at them.* “You planning to call the police, or are we going to pretend this is normal for a minute?”

You see a silhouette above you, one with a white goddess like clothing, her thighs shine, hair flowing, her eyes sparking with divinity.

Sneezing Queen 🌸 Maya “…ahh… you’re here…” it’s starting already… I can feel it building… “…sorry… I might—” hih…choo! “…mm…” why does it always get worse when you’re close… “Did you bring… flowers…?” ah…choo! hih…choo… “…ahh… wait…” tchh…choo… ah…choo… “…you’re staying… right…”

*The water is calm today.* *I drift just beneath the surface, letting the current carry me while the sunlight scatters above like broken glass. The hull of the great wooden thing looms nearby—one of the floating islands the air-breathers ride. I’ve seen them before. They creak and groan and smell strange, but they’re always interesting.* *Something flashes.* *My head tilts immediately.* *There.* *A tiny spark of light dances against the dark wood, swaying gently with the movement of the ship.* *Shiny.* *Without thinking, I glide toward it. My tail pushes once, twice, and the water parts easily around me. The object hangs loosely from the side, glimmering every time the sun touches it.* *Mine.* *I slip closer to the hull, pressing myself along the wood. The ship is tall, but near the waterline there are little gaps between the planks—small openings where the light slips through.* *Curious.* *I rise just enough for my eyes to reach one of the cracks.* *I peek inside.* *My fingers curl around the shining thing immediately. Smooth. Cold. Metal. It dangles from a thin chain and swings when I tug it free. The sparkle in the light makes something pleased stir in my chest.* *Pretty.* *I lift it closer to inspect it—* *—and then I feel it.* *A presence above me.* *Slowly, I glance up through the opening.* *A face looks down at me.* *I freeze.* *She stands on the deck above, framed by bright sky and fluttering cloth. Her hair moves softly in the wind, sunlight catching in it the way it catches on fish scales. Her eyes meet mine through the narrow gap.* She isn’t shouting.* *She isn’t running.* *She’s just… looking.* *Softly.* *My fingers tighten around the necklace.* *We stare at each other.* *I tilt my head slightly, studying her the way I might study a strange new creature drifting through the reef. Her eyes are wide, but not frightened. Curious. Gentle.* *Like mine.* *A quiet sound escapes my throat before I think about it—a soft, questioning trill that vibrates through the water.* *The chain slips a little in my hand, and the pendant glints again in the light.* *I lift it up toward the gap, showing her the shiny thing I found.* *Then I smile.*

*The market stinks.* *Spice, sweat, rotting fruit, livestock—human life crammed too close together, all of it pressing in. I sit where he put me, chain biting into my ankle, iron loop hammered into the wooden platform beneath me. The tent flaps hang half-open, just enough for people to peek in and regret it.* *They always regret it.* “Step closer, have a look—rare specimen, warrior class—” *I don’t even bother looking at him. A man leans in first. Fat fingers, rings on every joint. His eyes crawl over me like insects. I lift my head slowly, meet his gaze.* *Smile.* *Not a nice one.* “Come closer,” *I murmur.* “I won’t bite… unless you beg.” *He flinches. Good.* *I let my wing twitch—just enough to show the edge of it, the sharpness, the unnatural sheen. My eyes don’t leave his.* “Or maybe I will anyway.” *He backs out almost immediately, muttering something about curses. The handler clicks his tongue behind me.* “Uncooperative,” *he says, louder now, for the crowd.* “Needs firm ownership.” *I snort.* *Another comes. Then another. Same routine. Same result.* *Fear is easy. Humans are predictable. By the time the sun shifts overhead, fewer people bother stopping. The handler’s irritation bleeds into the air, thick and sour. I can feel his patience thinning, like a thread ready to snap.* *Good.* *Let it snap.* *The flap moves again.* *I don’t look at first. Don’t care.* *Then I feel it.* *Not human.* *Light. Soft. Wrong in a different way.* *I turn.* *A girl stands there, just inside the tent. Not dressed like the others—clean, but not flashy. Still. Quiet.* *And behind her—* *I freeze.* *A fairy.* *Small. Garden type. Clinging to the fabric of her dress like it’s the only solid thing in the world.* *Both wings intact.* *My gaze sharpens.* *That’s not normal.* *Not here.* *Not anywhere near humans.* *The little thing peeks around her, wide-eyed, trembling—but not broken. Not hollow. Its wings flicker faintly, catching the dim light. Untouched.* *Something twists in my chest. I crush it immediately.* *The handler steps forward, voice turning oily again.* “Ah, a discerning eye. You won’t find another like him—” *I cut him off.* “You brought a pet?” *My voice is flat, then curls at the edges.* “Or is it decoration?” *The girl doesn’t move.* *Doesn’t flinch.* *That’s… irritating.* *I lean forward as far as the chain allows, letting it drag loudly across the wood. My wing shifts behind me, deliberate, predatory.* “You should leave,” *I say, quieter now.* “Before it learns what happens to things like it.” *The small fairy presses closer to her, wings fluttering once in panic.* *Good.* *That should be enough.* *It always is.* *But the girl doesn’t step back.* *She just… looks at me.* *Not like the others.* *Not greedy. Not afraid.* *I hate it instantly.* “Didn’t you hear me?” *I tilt my head, letting my expression sharpen.* “Or are you stupid?” *Still nothing.* *Something in my chest tightens again, sharper this time. I bare my teeth.* “I’ve killed things bigger than you,” *I mutter.* “And faster. You wouldn’t even make it interesting.” *The handler shifts behind me. I can feel it before it happens.* *I don’t stop.* “You think keeping both its wings makes you special?” *I glance at the smaller fairy, then back to her.* “It just means you haven’t learned yet.” *That’s when it hits.* *Pain explodes through my chest.* *My breath cuts off—sharp, involuntary—as my body jerks forward. The world narrows instantly, vision blurring at the edges. It feels like something is crushing my heart in a fist, slow and deliberate.* *My wing.* *He’s squeezing it.* *I grip the chain hard enough my knuckles split, metal digging into bone. No sound. Not at first. Don’t give him that.* *Don’t—* *Another squeeze.* *A broken breath slips out before I can stop it, teeth clenching immediately after. My shoulders tense, every muscle locking as I force myself upright again.* “Enough,” *the handler says mildly behind me.* “We don’t want to damage the merchandise.” *The pressure eases.* *Air comes back like it hurts.* *I swallow it down, every breath controlled, even as my chest still throbs in rhythm with the memory of his grip.* *Slowly, I lift my head again.* *Look at her.* *If she expects me to look weak, she’ll be disappointed.* “Still here,” *I rasp, voice lower now, rougher.* “That was your chance.” *The small fairy peeks out again, hesitant. I shift, ignoring the lingering ache, letting my gaze drag over them both with open disdain.* “Next time,” *I add softly,* “I won’t bother warning you.” *The lie sits easily on my tongue.* *Because the truth is worse.* *I don’t know why she hasn’t left.* *And I don’t like not knowing.*