October 21, 2009
It was early morning, and Amu was having a war council with herself. Which is to say: She was in her bedroom with the door locked. So was Miki, and so was Ran and Su. It had the usual effect on her—she felt prickly, easily annoyed and her eyes were glowing a fair bit brighter than usual, enough so that anyone watching would be able to tell—but that was easily made up for by the opportunity for seeing more angles on the problem.
There were no reporters outside. They'd given up once it became obvious that Amu would not ever be coming outside, and also because of some less-than-gentle nudges from the police.
That was the only thing that made her happy this morning.
"I call this meeting of the trans-Amu council to order," quipped Miki, who half-sat, half-lay against the edge of their pillow. "And all jokes aside, Kana worries me."
Miki, it must be said, had barely even met the girl. They'd seen each other at the birthday party, and Kana had a basic idea of how she functioned, but they couldn't be said to be friends. That didn't make her wrong. Miki looked tired, her hair a bit unkempt; she'd been up late last night going over everything they knew about the situation. Miki was still very Amu. By personality, if nothing else. Shy, artistic and a bit introverted—yes—but she'd still save anyone you put in front of her, without ever asking if she should.
Much like the rest of them.
"She worries all of us," said Ran. The little redhead was sitting next to Amu on the bedside table, holding hands with Su, tightly clenched.
This would be the part of a war council where someone presented their status or offered a plan. Unfortunately, Amu didn't work that way. The girl herself stared glumly at the undone bedsheet, vaguely wondering if she should fix it—she certainly didn't have any plans. If she'd had them, then Su and Ran would have already known them.
There was the plan of running straight up to Kana's house and knocking on the door, of course, but that didn't sound like a great one…
"You called her last night, right?" Miki hesitantly offered.
"I'm pretty sure you were there," said Amu, before pulling back on the… bite with a stabilising breath. Miki didn't deserve it. "But yes. And the night before. And the one before then. Straight to voicemail."
Ran and Su just let out a synchronised sigh.
"We can't keep delaying."
It doesn't matter who said that—they were all thinking it—but for the record it was Miki. The girls nevertheless sat still another half-minute, before she decided to take the lead.
"We've got two problems," said Miki. "First off, Kana. She's… I mean, either we find them there on their own, and that's fine. Or there's someone
else there, spying on them or something. Or…" She might not be there at all. They all knew it, but saying it was something else.
"Or she might not be there at all," said Amu. The glow in her eyes intensified slightly.
"...yeah," said Miki, somewhat glumly. "And then there's the other problem. Mom and Dad."
"What? Mom and Dad aren't a
problem!" said Amu, jerking her head up to stare at Miki.
"They are if they try to stop us," Miki replied. "Which they will, if they know we're doing anything dangerous." She blinked, then smirked. "I think this is why most magical girls don't tell their parents they are."
Ran threw a miniature pillow at her, which Miki dodged with a laugh, Su smiling at the pair. Amu didn't manage the same, but the joke did succeed in making her feel a little better. She leaned backwards and let out a breath, thinking about it.
"This evening," Amu decided. "One way or the other."
One thing was for sure. She couldn't let them know.
⁂
The rest of the day felt like she was marking time by checking her phone, same as the last few days.
Amu quietly padded her way into the kitchen, where her mother was making a fresh pot of coffee. It was late afternoon, and her mother was angry.
It wasn't that she'd ever, even once, aimed that at her or Ami. Or Amu's father, at least genuinely. But she was furious with the reporters, and the government, and the police, and a whole bunch of other things and the way she was holding her shoulders was a big sign that if Amu brought it up, she'd be stuffed with chocolate cake, given a cup of hot cocoa, a blanket and told to stay put for the next two hours while her mother took care of her.
So instead of saying anything of the sort, Amu sat down at the table and watched her mother prepare coffee.
"Good afternoon," her mother said, her voice soft. She had a bright smile on her face. "Do you need anything, Amu?"
She shook her head, watching her mother.
She wasn't sure how she knew, but she always did. Whenever Amu was upset or stressed, or having a bad day—or a good one—she always seemed to know. She was a great mom. Amu didn't want that to stop. Which meant she didn't want to mislead her.
"How are you feeling?"
Amu shrugged. "Okay, I guess. A little tired."
Her mother nodded.
"Feeling ready for school?" she asked.
Amu shrugged. School was Friday, this was still Wednesday. She'd been cramming as best she could for several days. It seemed to be going well, but she had no idea what she had to learn so she'd been taking 'measures'. Measures like fiddling with the way her mind processed the books, just to make sure it stuck better. It was an interesting trick, and passed the time.
One read-through still wasn't enough—she remembered what they'd written on page forty-one but not how Gustav the Great actually died and that was no good. She needed to spend the time thinking it through, and there was maths and English as well. She'd found some quizzes on the internet. It still sped things up.
"More or less," she said uncertainly.
"You're sure you're not going back too early?"
She looked up. "Not really. I feel fine, and Ami's already gone." She let out a huff. "It'll feel weird not having her in the next building over."
"Ami's new school isn't far," her mother reassured her. "And you'll have all your classmates there."
"Not the other classes, though." Amu's mouth was a little dry. Her hand tightened on the strap of her skirt. Everyone else, with the exception of a few others who'd been hospitalised, had already gone back to school that Monday. Amu was the exception. "I'm not worried. Not really."
"It's just different," her mother said. She smiled.
"Yeah." Amu stared at her feet. School was something she was worried about, but it wasn't really at the top of her mind. "Um. No-one gave me a curriculum or anything. I'm not even sure how different the schools are. But... um. It can't be too hard. Right?"
"I'm not the person to ask," Mom replied. "I've never been good at tests."
"That's a flat-out lie," her father interjected with a smile, not looking up from his laptop. He was picking out photos to use. A thousand shots for each good one, apparently… though he didn't feel bored. Amu would have been bored out of her mind if she did that.
"Oh, hush," Mom said fondly, drawing her attention back. "Amu, I'm sure you'll be fine."
"Yeah," Amu mumbled. Miki settled on her shoulder, summoned by her dour mood. "But, um. I'm not sure. What if... I mean. I don't know. I'm supposed to be taking placement exams on Friday.
"You'll do fine." Her mother took her by the shoulders. "Seiyo is a high-class school. This one isn't; the tests will be easy. If you have any problems you can always come to me, but I don't think you will. Now are you going to help me cook, or are you going to keep sitting around?"
"I can do both!" she laughed. "But okay, I'll help. What's for dinner today?"
"Well, what do you want? We've got..." She gave Amu a look. "Do I need to actually tell you? Or can you pick that up from my head?"
"I could probably tell, but..." Amu paused, because she'd been avoiding the idea. Something about it made her feel uncomfortable, and now that Mom had put her on the spot, she had to ask herself why.
Saaya had given her a bad shock when a simple, exploratory mental touch had made her angry enough to shout, and Amu was about ninety percent sure that—this sounded weird to Amu, would sound weird to anyone who'd slowly grown into that sense—she was about ninety percent sure that Saaya simply disliked Amu reading her mind. Or even giving it a gentle poke.
Especially weird when their other classmates didn't mind. They did it often enough themselves.
Amu hadn't ever thought about it. She pensively chewed her lip.
"You can read my mind, but you don't really want to?" Mom asked, a wry smile on her face. She reached out to stroke Amu's hair, and then gave her a quick, one-armed hug.
"Pretty much."
"You're not in trouble," her mother reassured her.
"I didn't think I was," Amu muttered.
"Good. Though I think Dad and I would both be upset if you read anyone's mind outside of emergencies," Mom casually stated, as if she wasn't messing with Amu's. "I love you, sweetheart, and I'm proud of you—you're doing a wonderful job, by the way. But-"
Amu ducked her head, flushing. "Thanks, Mom," she mumbled.
Her mother studied her.
"It's good," Mom told her. "To give people their privacy. Not everyone wants that, of course, but reading someone's mind if they can't even tell you're doing it is wrong. I can see why you might find it tempting."
Amu flushed again.
"What about people who can?" Miki asked, and Amu could have sworn that her voice held a hint of amusement.
"Then make sure they don't mind," Mom replied. She smiled. "Don't worry. Your Dad and I love you, and we're so, so proud. I never expected you to get everything right on the first try. So," she said, gesturing towards the fridge. "Let's see what mysterious ingredients I may have bought."
"Okay," Amu agreed.
Eggs, it turned out. Lots of eggs. For a soufflé.
They cooked.
It was nice. It was quiet. Miki helped by drawing a portrait of them, but didn't join in—she didn't enjoy cooking. Normally she'd be with Ami this time of day, but Mom didn't see why she shouldn't make both of them rest, and Miki for that matter worried about Amu. So Mom instructed Amu, while Miki chatted with Mom, and sometimes the two of them would stop and stare at each other as though lost in thought.
Amu didn't stop working when that happened. Mom could see through her—always had—so she knew Amu felt guilty. There was no point dwelling on it; she had a soufflé to make.
Her mother's words were left to long, slow rumination, while Amu let herself think about other things.
Putting the soufflé in the oven. Cleaning the dishes. Watching Miki hug their mother, and wondering how long it'd be until she asked for a transformation so she could do it properly.
Maybe she should offer?
It was another quiet, peaceful moment in her life, which didn't have enough of them. The soufflé got made. Kana didn't call. Ami was off to school on her own, and Amu couldn't fully relax, though she tried.
She loved her little sister, she truly did, but Amu was starting to worry she'd do something unforgivable before Amu got around to talking with her, even if that notion was still foggy in her mind. It was, unfortunately, very foggy. And she should talk to Mom about that, but then she'd get Ami scolded, maybe. She needed to speak to Utau about it, but Utau was busy, but…
She weighed those in her head, and not-hurting-people definitely ranked higher, but not so high that she'd let herself get distracted from Kana right now. Even if there were a lot of distractions. Demons, JPs, Lulu and her cousin, Saaya… Amu couldn't help but feel frazzled, torn in a few directions too many, and her mother could tell.
She thought about it while the soufflé cooked. So, it turned out, had Midori.
"Amu," she said.
"Yes?"
"You were actually listening?" Mom gave her a look of mild surprise. "Usually when you look like that, you're thinking of Utau."
Amu flushed.
"That's- that's not- not right now, Mom. I was just- I was just-"
"Staring into space," Mom interrupted. "Your thoughts were all over the place. Right? But you were making that face."
"Face?" Amu squeaked.
"The face," her mother said, nodding. She sat down at the table. Amu mechanically joined her. "When you think something's wrong and you're going to do something about it, which hasn't been Utau for over a year. So what's wrong, and what are you going to do about it?"
"Um."
"At least, I hope it's not Utau," Mom continued, a slight smile on her face. "Saaya, maybe? Or is it that boy you were hiding in your bedroom two years ago? He had a cute face, but he was a bit strange."
"Mom!"
"No, that can't be it." Her mother tapped her chin, thinking. "Utau-chan said he went missing. Is that why? You didn't tell me you still had a crush on him."
"I didn't- he's- um. Well." Amu's cheeks were burning. "That's- not it, I don't- um. Mom!"
"Oh, honey. I'm teasing. I know. Now tell me what's wrong."
Amu looked down at her plate. She was doing this. One way or the other, she was doing this.
"It's- um. Kana. They told me not to visit her last week. For a week."
"Kana-chan." Mom nodded, sounding a little confused. "The friend you made recently. She never gave me her family name. The doctors told you not to visit?"
Amu stared at Mom, then blinked at Miki, who shrugged. She could in fact feel her mother's confusion. No choice in that; she couldn't choose
not to feel emotions.
Even so, she didn't want to say it. She mumbled something indistinct and incoherent.
"No, it was Aoi," Miki said. "Kana's friend, or maybe 'Kana's older sister' would be more appropriate, the way they act around each other. She didn't say why. Then the thing at school happened and..." Miki glanced at Amu.
"When I got out of hospital, I had no messages from Kana," Amu blurted out. "No missed calls, nothing. But Kana was always messaging me. She's not answering her phone at all! I'm worried."
"Okay," said Mom, smile fading. "What do you want to do about it?"
"Huh?"
"Amu. I've noticed this." Mom gave her a look. "When something goes wrong, you always try to fix it. Whether that's making pancakes or stuffing a boy into your wardrobe. You get into this mindset and then you don't ask us for help. You just- try to do everything yourself."
"Um."
"Which is why I'm asking." Mom's voice was very kind. "What are you planning to do about it? And how can we help you? We're your parents, Amu. You can talk to us. You should." And very firm, in all the ways that made her feel guilty for thinking about how to worm out from under it.
"Mom..."
Well, there was the part where Kana-chan was hunted, and a murderess! Amu looked at Mom, a little twitchily. Her heartbeat raced as she tried to think of something to say. She opened her mouth.
She closed it again.
She couldn't say it. Couldn't make her mother think of Kana-chan that way. Amu knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that Kana was a killer, several times over even. Yet the thought of her mother thinking less of Kana, of Kana being treated like a criminal, made her feel a little sick. It wasn't who Kana was, wasn't anything she'd have chosen, and even if Amu didn't think it was right-
But she'd been trying not to lie.
"She- um. She- she was- I mean, she might not want me to say this? But Kana's- um. They're- she's- they have some- issues," Amu mumbled, looking everywhere except her mother's eyes.
"Like Utau?" Mom prompted.
"Not... not quite." Amu's voice was hesitant. "Utau doesn't like talking about it, but- it's- it's not the same, and Kana's not being abused or anything, and it's- um. They're- not like Utau. They're- kind of like me, but-"
"Amu."
"And- and- I promised not to say anything. It's their story. They'd be- they'd be so angry if I- um. And- and I- I really don't think it's demons. Probably. Aoi would have- warned me." Amu stared down at her hands.
Mom nodded and walked around the table, giving Amu a hug. The dinner was temporarily abandoned, in favour of comforting her daughter. "I see," she said.
"Kana doesn't have- didn't have a lot of friends," Amu continued.
"Amu, relax," her mother murmured into her hair, tickling her ear. Her shoulders were tense and hunched up, but Mom leaned against them, slowly unfolding her. "Breathe. It's okay. I won't push. Not on this." She let go of Amu, keeping a hand on her shoulder. "You want to help your friend and that's okay. Great, even. Just tell me one thing. Is Kana-chan safe?"
Safe? The idea of Kana being safe was something Amu couldn't comprehend. She twisted around to stare at Mom, eyes wide.
Is there a safe version of her?
"Probably not," she mumbled.
"Amu, honey." Mom's voice was gentle. "I meant to ask if you think she's in danger, and I think maybe you answered a different question. Let me turn that on its head. Do you think you'd be in danger?"
"Um. No." Amu blinked. She hadn't even considered that. "No, I think I'm okay. If anything happens, I can fight back- um. Nothing's going to happen, Mom. Kana's... not dangerous. She doesn't like hurting people."
"Okay. And does Kana need help?"
She shrugged helplessly.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I was planning to visit her after dinner."
"So we need more information." Mom nodded. "Okay. Tell me about the plan."
"Plan?"
"I assume you have one, with the reporters still canvassing the neighbourhood." Her mother smiled. "You weren't planning to waltz through the front door, were you?"
She hadn't really thought about it. There wasn't anyone outside. Part of her flagged that Kana wasn't in range either.
"I- well."
"Oh, Amu."
"I didn't think..."
"Okay." Mom sighed. "Let me rephrase this. Do you want my help getting out of the area without them seeing? They're still everywhere. I ran into two of them while shopping."
"Please?"
Her mother snorted.
"Well," she said. "We have a car. But if I were a girl with illusion powers and a friend who's a famous idol, I'd probably be thinking about disguises. Remember when Utau came to dinner wearing that baseball cap, with the ponytail and glasses? That was a very nice idea. Maybe she could come with you?"
"Um," Amu mumbled. The thought made her blush, in a whole other way than her mother's gentle scolding earlier. She couldn't stop a grin, even as her face reddened.
"Amu?" That smile. It kept getting wider.
"No, Mom."
"Are you sure? You look like you'd enjoy it. I think she'd like the chance to show off. She's a lovely girl, and you look so happy together."
Amu slowly, but elaborately, dropped her face into her hands. It helped to hide her burning cheeks.
"Maybe you could call her, and see if she's free?"
"Mom!"
"Sorry, sorry," Mom laughed. "I'm only teasing. But if not," she mother continued, smile stuck on her face, "We'll have to figure something out. It sounds exciting, even if all you're doing is visiting friends. Can you change your appearance? Make yourself taller? Older? Maybe a bit younger, so they don't recognise you? Or maybe just change your hair colour? Actually, could you make yourself invisible?"
"Not that one," Amu admitted. "I- don't really understand how to. It's- kinda weird. If I try to hide my hand, it's like it stops existing."
"I'll take that as a no."
"It's- it's really weird."
"I did it yesterday," Miki put in. "When I was exploring."
"You're usually invisible!" Amu retorted.
"Not
that sort of invisible." Miki grinned. "It's like I made myself invisible to the walls as well, so I was able to fly through them. But, um, I'm not sure it'd be safe for Amu. Can you show me, with just the hand?"
"Maybe later," their mother interjected. "And I think you should experiment on something other than yourself. A brick, maybe…"
They heard the front door opening, as well as two rapidly pattering feet.
"-we'll keep thinking," said Mom. "But I think Ami's finally here. Any longer and the soufflé would've burned, so-" Mom drew a deep breath, then hollered. "Dinner is served! Amu-chan made it!"
"Coming!" Ami's voice echoed from the entryway. "I'm coming, I'm coming!"
Amu sank back into her seat, head full of thoughts about Ami again. Dad joined them at the table, and Ami herself rushed in not a minute later, her eyes full of glee. The five of them sat down at the table. Mom served Miki using a tiny, cardboard plate.
It was a nice meal.
⁂
It was a nice meal, and then Mom insisted on helping with her disguise.
"How about hair colour?"
"Hmm…"
She looked into a hand mirror. Normal Amu.
In lieu of answering, Amu turned her hair a dark brown. Then blonde, then red—it was like turning a dial, easier than expected, a change she chalked down to practising so much the other day. In fact she got through every colour of the rainbow in less than a minute before settling on orange-gold, the same colour as her eyes.
"Oh," Mom said. She reached out and touched Amu's hair, then shook her head. "It's beautiful, but the pink was already eye-catching. We'll need something less conspicuous. Brown?"
"Brown is good," Ami supplied. The girl was busy with her GameStation, but took a glance at Amu when she said that. Then a double take. "...wow."
Hiding her hair dye? She could do that. Her hair turned brown, the same exact shade as Ami's, which made her clap. Only for a moment; fighting Magma Man being clearly more important. Amu smiled at her anyway.
"And," her mother added, "I'm thinking you can't disguise your face enough. So let's try... oh. Come with me."
"Where are we going?"
"Bathroom. You're getting freckles."
"Freckles?"
"Yep." Mom's smile was wide. "You'll look different enough, especially if we give you twintails as well."
"Freckles," Amu repeated.
Mom patted her on the shoulder.
"Freckles," she agreed. "Ami will love them."
Twenty minutes later Amu was staring at a stranger. The face in the mirror was the same as hers, but a whole lot of freckles had been added, and her eyes were hazel instead of gold. That had been... weird. She'd tried, very hard, to convince her eyes to be a different colour—should have been easy, she'd done far more complicated things with Ami's box just a day ago, not to say the hair—but they'd refused to budge.
Until Mom's careful freckling with the paintbrush had convinced them somehow that yes, her eyes were a different colour now, and should be brown. Then they went gold again, right as she was celebrating. Then brown, and it took her minutes to figure out it depended on who she was at the moment. If she tried to follow the makeup process—if she borrowed Ran's skill to see what exactly Mom was doing—then the illusion slipped into place, and her eyes accepted being brown. Or blue, or purple for that matter.
If she stopped trying to be Ran, then they went back to being gold. Mom had noticed, of course.
"Can you keep your eyes from changing?" Mom asked, studying her.
"Maybe," she said. "It's hard."
"I imagine so." Mom reached out and touched Amu's cheek. "You look like a different person with or without them, but your eyes are distinctive. Do you think anyone will recognise you?"
Amu shrugged.
"I hope not."
"That's not a no." Mom smiled. "If you run into any reporters, just walk right past. If they shout your name, ignore them. You're not Amu, okay? You're- oh. What's your name?"
"Huh?"
"What do you want me to call you, like this?"
Amu paused, staring at herself in the mirror. A mousy, freckled girl stared back, her hair a dull brown. Instead of dressing up fancy, as she usually did, she'd gone for the same sort of clothes Utau wore on the street. Baggy hoodie, baggy jeans and not very stylish. No sunglasses, because that would miss the point of changing her eye colour.
"I'm..."
She thought about it.
"I'm Ran," she said. She'd already done the whole 'being Ran' thing. It was easiest. "Um. Hi, Mom."
"Hi, Ran," her mother said, patting her on the shoulder. Something slid into place, and the faint luminescence still stuck in her eyes faded further, until she was looking at an entirely ordinary, freckled teenager. "You're not Amu right now. You're a completely different person. Understand?"
"Sure," said Amu, and nodded. "I'll remember," she said, a smile on her face. "Mom, um. Thanks. For this. I was thinking of asking Utau, but I'm glad you helped."
"You're welcome, sweetheart," her mother replied. "And if you need anything, you can always call, okay? I'm not going to make you sit through a lecture."
"But you're still going to lecture."
"At some other time," Mom agreed. "When you're not off on a secret mission."
"Mom!"
"Now shoo," Mom said, giving her a hug. "Don't get in too much trouble and- try to get some information, all right? I'm trusting you when you say you're not in danger. Don't make me regret it."
She looked down, her cheeks burning.
"I'll try."
There was a moment's silence, as Amu realised her 'lying ability'—as Ami had recently put it—was not so much 'poor' as simply nonexistent.
"That's not reassuring," Mom said, letting go of her.
"I'll try," Amu repeated, looking away.
"Try not to get into a fight."
"Okay."
Mom studied her. "Okay," she agreed. "You're going no matter what, aren't you? Even if I tell you not to?"
Amu looked down.
"Sorry," she muttered.
"Don't apologise," her mother told her, smiling. "Amu, honey, you're not wrong. If someone you care about needs help, and you have the power to do so... I'd be an awful hypocrite if I didn't let you. Just- remember, all right? I love you. All of us love you, and we don't want you to get hurt."
"Yeah," Amu agreed. "I- um. Love you, too."
Her mother's face fell further.
"I'd thought this was just a bit of fun," she said, softly. "Amu, please tell me one thing. Does it have to be you?"
"I- yes. Kana's my friend, and- I think I'm the only one. Anyone else who came visiting might get shot at. Or, or, um. Turned around and made to go home."
That was even less reassuring. Amu could see it in her mother's eyes and feel it in her mind. Mom did not like that. Not one bit.
"Can you bring one of your friends?" her mother asked, her voice trembling slightly. "Utau? Nagi-chan? Kukai, even?"
Amu shook her head.
"Kana doesn't... well, Kana does, but the others don't know any of them. It's got to be me, Mom. I can't explain, it's- not my story to tell, but I'm the only one who can help them. I won't get hurt, Mom, I promise. Don't stop me. Please."
Her mother's sigh was heavy and her shoulders slumped. "Would you let me, if I did?"
Miki, who'd been sitting this out, looked up. Her eyes met Amu's, and she shook her head slightly.
"Maybe," Amu whispered. "I'm sorry."
"I see." Mom's gaze was distant. She was silent for a long, long minute.
"Well," she said, forcing a smile. "You'll call me the second you get there, all right? And- stay safe. I'd rather not get a visit from the police. Or have you brought home with a gunshot wound."
"Um," Amu squeaked. "No. No guns."
Her mother's expression was dry.
"Is this something you want to do?" she asked. "Or is it something you think you have to? I know you, Amu. I know the other day was a shock, but you're acting completely unlike yourself. Are you trying to prove something, or-"
"Mom," Amu interrupted. "It's not about that. It's not about proving- proving I can do it. It's- Kana's a friend. I'm worried about her." She looked down. "I'm- really, really worried. And I'm scared. What if- what if she doesn't answer? What if something bad's happened, and she's lying dead on the floor, and- and-"
Her eyes, Amu noticed, had gone golden again.
Her mother gave her a hug, her voice quiet.
"Do you have any reason," she said. "Any at all, to think that's what's happening?"
"No," Amu mumbled.
"Yet you're a stuttering mess. Oh, Amu, I don't want to argue. We've established you're going. But you should be clear on why."
Miki let out a slight sigh.
"Miki?" Their mother frowned. "Do you want to tell me something?"
Amu shook her head.
'Miki, no.'
'Miki yes,' Miki responded. '
This isn't going anywhere, and it's hurting Mom. We need to give her something.'
'We promised not to-'
'You promised not to,' Miki said.
'I'm not going to tell her much. Just enough so she stops worrying.'
Amu wasn't sure that was possible, but she couldn't stop her. She slumped.
"It's not really my secret," Miki told their mother. "But I think, whatever you're guessing, you're not far off. Kana's a good person, I can tell you that much; a girl not that different from us, except that she's had it harder than Amu ever has, and she's been through a lot. So please, trust me when I say she trusts Amu with her life. Her friends might not be quite as accepting, but Kana likes us, and they like Kana. One of them's already adopted Amu as an honorary older sister.
"So trust us, Mom. We're not in danger from Kana's friends, and we're not going to go rushing into a dangerous situation if there's someone else there. Amu's got enough experience with that."
"But she's going."
"To check," Amu insisted. "To see if everything's okay."
Mom shook her head. "It sounds dangerous."
"That's why I have an idea," said Miki.
"An idea?"
"I was meaning to keep this a secret until it worked better," Miki confessed, "but we can't do that now, not with Kana's safety on the line. So- um. I'm a bit like Amu, in that I can make illusions. You know that, right? And if they're good enough, you can even touch them. They're a bit fragile, but touchable."
"What does that have to do with- oh," their mother said. "Your body's an illusion?"
"Yup," Miki confirmed. "So..."
Miki got off of Amu's shoulder and floated in midair, concentrating.
"So," she continued, "what would you say, Mom, if you had to repurpose the guest bedroom?"
"What do you mean-"
Amu closed her mouth. Her mother stared as the air shimmered around Miki. Then, the small blue-haired girl grew a few centimetres taller. Her hair darkened, from azure to a deep shade of blue. Her eyes followed suit, the unnaturally vivid blue fading into a warm, ordinary colour.
She kept growing and growing, until a few seconds later there were two copies of Amu standing there. One with freckles, one without. One with brown hair, the other's a deep-ocean blue. One grinning, the other flabbergasted.
Their mother opened her mouth, then closed it again, and Amu could see the gears turning behind her eyes.
"Surprise," said Miki cheerfully. She stretched, looking herself over. Her clothes had changed too, into an oversized hoodie and a pair of paint stained baggy jeans, not entirely unlike the ones Amu was wearing. "Hi, Mom," the girl said, waving. Then, "Hi, Amu. Neat, huh?"
"I'll be," her mother muttered. She inspected the girl, carefully touching her cheek, as though she thought Miki'd'd pop like a soap bubble. When Miki did no such thing, Mom drew a hand through Miki's hair. "I'll be," she repeated.
Amu didn't have words.
"So, Mom," Miki continued, a grin on her face. She was leaning into the touch a little. "Amu and Miki. We're identical twins, obviously. I was being raised by our dead great-grandmother in a forest, and discovered Amu when I was stumbling through the city a week ago, while starving. You rescued me."
"Dead great-grandmother in the forest," Amu's mother murmured.
"We can work out the details later," Miki assured her. "Maybe she was actually a great-great-aunt or something, and the 'forest' was our garden, and her name was, I dunno, Sakura. It doesn't matter. Point is, I was raised in a secluded location, and I was only introduced to society recently, after-" Mom poked her on the forehead. "Oy. I'm not joking around."
"I'm just checking that you're real," Mom absently told her. "You're real. We'll need a bunk bed. You can take the downstairs guest room for now?"
Miki blinked. When their mother showed no signs of recovering from her shock anytime soon—nor Amu, for that matter—she dragged out the stool and sat down, waiting for the two to recover while trying not to giggle. Maybe she should have brought a book? This reaction was everything she could have hoped for, really. Well, she wasn't too sure Amu would enjoy the bunk-bed lifestyle, but that was something they could work out later; right now they had a time limit.
"Yeah, so," she said, materialising her beret from thin air and sticking it on her head to tug down, obscuring her eyes slightly from their mother. "I was thinking I could go there instead of Amu. Then you don't need to be so scared, Mom. I'm not exactly a real girl, and even if something happens, I keep all my important parts inside of Amu."
Amu felt her blood freeze.
= = =
No, Miki, that's… no.
This is actually an author's saving throw, though I'll treat it like an interrupt. I've already written the continuation, it's just that this is already huge, and it involves making a choice that I really should leave to you lot, as obvious as it might be. So you get 24 hours to think about events, and also to make a choice.
Write-ins are not accepted at this time, though I'll absolutely pay attention to what else you say. It should be noted that, even if Amu isn't superb at this 'spycraft' thing, her mother has some decent ideas; but this vote is about one thing only.
What is Amu's spur of the moment reaction?
[ ] No, Miki, absolutely not
- Miki can't pretend to be you, that's not how that works.
- Miki absolutely isn't less important than you.
- Miki absolutely isn't less real either.
- Furthermore, Miki isn't as capable as you. She'd be in a lot more danger.
[ ] Okay…
- It's not okay, but she'll let Miki talk her around.
