"Yeah, so…" Miki materialised a beret from thin air and tugged it down, slightly covering her eyes. Amu could sense she didn't like what she was going to say. She didn't look for what Miki was planning to say—she wouldn't do that, not now—but Miki's heart was a cauldron of ugly, cheerful-but-missing-foundations… self-deprecating? Angry? Worried? This was hard to read-
-plenty of emotions, none of which she liked-
"I was thinking I could go there instead of Amu," said Miki, while Amu felt her blood begin to freeze. The emotions coming off of Miki weren't… upset. All the conditions were there for it, Miki should have been screaming, but she wasn't. Instead, just that fake-cheerful- real cheerful, even though it shouldn't be-
Mom was catching on almost equally fast, and Mom didn't have the benefit of seeing it happen.
"Then you don't need to be so scared, Mom," said Miki. "I'm not exactly a real girl, and even if something happens, I keep all my important parts inside of Amu."
-Miki, whom Amu had long since stopped thinking of like a chara-
"Miki..." Mom's tone of voice was a warning, but underneath it- Amu was too shocked to talk. Mom, it seemed, had no such problems. She was also shocked, however. Shocked, angry, horrified—the cauldron of emotions brewing inside her was easier to read, and it wasn't within Amu's means at that moment to keep from listening in. Staying wholly out of her head took focus, focus which Miki had already obliterated.
-had Miki stopped thinking of herself as a chara?
Her ears were ringing.
"And it's not like anyone would be able to tell the difference," Miki added, looking herself over. She ran a hand through her hair under the edges of the beret, feeling her new features while, bizarrely, smiling. "This is weirdly like being in a chara transformation, only quieter. Like it's only me, instead of me and Ran and Dia and Su and you all together. I wonder..."
"Miki," their mother said. "If you're trying to make me feel better, this isn't it."
"You're worried about her," Miki shot back, "and I can't blame you. Amu's- well-"
That's not it. That wasn't it. Amu could feel Mom's growing horror, which Miki certainly couldn't. Miki wasn't much of an empath, nor any good at mind-reading in general, but she shouldn't have needed to be. Mom was worried about both of them. She loved both of them. That should have been obvious.
"-not good at this stuff," Miki finished, oblivious. "So send me instead."
"I'm better at it than you!" Amu shouted. She didn't mean to. She was just completely off balance.
"That's not the issue, and you know it," their mother shot back, her voice calm. "I'll leave aside that-" She looked between them, then shook her head. "One week ago I thought I had two daughters. Now I know I have three, and I want to keep them. That, Miki, includes you!"
Amu squeezed her eyes shut. Her ears were definitely ringing.
"You're not a replacement for Amu, nor would I want you to be. Amu is my daughter, and so are you. I love you both, and I won't pretend otherwise." Mom gave Miki a very gentle pat on the head, which turned into knuckles rubbing through the beret. Miki's eyes widened.
"Mooooom," she mumbled, not even attempting to move away.
"No, don't you mom me. Not until you've learned that you're not replaceable."
"But-"
"Do you think you're a burden, Miki? Is that it?"
"What?" Miki's eyes were wide.
"Because if so, then you should remember that we love having you. And we'll be happier with you here, not in danger. And if that's the problem, and you're just doing this for our sake, then please. Stop."
"But I'm not-"
"Then tell me why you want to put yourself in danger!" Mom's voice had risen. "I've had enough of this! I want a real explanation, or else neither of you is allowed out of the house until next year. And if Kana's in trouble, we can call the police. That's what they're there for."
"We can't."
"Why not?"
"It's-" Miki paused, then looked at Amu.
Amu shook her head, still not able to speak. Kana was a distant second in her mind right, a distant, almost unimportant thought. Mom was doing the right thing, but she didn't have the right idea. Miki didn't think she was a burden, Miki just thought—still thought—she'd go away. That her lifespan was limited, and-
"I'm not really a person," said Miki. She was talking slowly, and her voice was low and quiet, a little bitter, and not like her at all. "I wasn't always this, uh... talkative. I mean, I was always a bit, um. Outspoken, I guess? But..."
She couldn't listen to this.
"Miki." She didn't mean to. "Shut up."
"Amu..." Her mother's voice was soft.
"Shut up," she said, again. Her hands were clapped over her ears. It wasn't helping. "Miki. Shut up. You're wrong. Just- just shut up, okay?"
"I'm not," Miki mumbled, quiet enough that it sounded like she didn't consider the argument worth having.
She was, though. Amu wasn't sure how to get it through to her.
"I know what you're thinking," she said, voice rising, "Because I'm Ran and Su and Dia, too, not just Amu. I remember everything, the way you do. You- you're not a burden, or an illusion, or anything like that, Miki. And you're not going to go away, ever. So stop trying to- to- do stupid things. Like getting yourself shot at. That's- it's- dumb."
"It's not," Miki said.
"Yes it is!"
"You were planning to go alone."
"So?"
"So?" Miki looked at her, and the pain in her eyes was almost physical. "Amu, you're my... you're the most important person to me, ever. More important than any of us. How can you not understand that?" She looked up at Mom as well, eyes pleading. "If Amu dies, we all die. If it's me, then it's just… me."
"Nobody's dying!" Amu's voice broke. She grabbed Miki by the shoulders, wanting to shake her. "Stop- stop thinking like that! Because I'm- you're just as important, and- and-" She drew a deep breath. Mom seemed content to let them sort it out on their own, her expression pained, but that wouldn't last. Not with this sort of awfulness. "Mom's right. You're a person. So am I. Miki... do you remember when you were born?"
"Not really." Miki looked away. She was lying.
Amu remembered the egg. Remembered the first time she'd seen her. Miki running away, because she thought Amu didn't want her. She'd followed her, eventually. Amu had chased her… Amu had also told Ran to go away, and she remembered that from both sides.
"But you remember meeting me," she continued, ignoring the pang in her chest. "Don't you?"
Miki nodded.
"Do you remember how you felt, the day you were born? The first time you woke up? What was it like? Were you scared? Confused? Happy?"
Miki didn't answer.
"Because I'm also Ran, and Su, and I remember everything," Amu continued, her voice soft. "'I'm Miki. Amu-chan's 'wanted personality'. But it's unclear if I can go on by myself. I'm at the point of vanishing…'" Amu trailed off. That was something Miki had told them a long time ago, the first time they met. Even if Miki had forgotten, it wasn't the sort of thing Amu forgot easily.
She'd never treated her like an appendage... had she? That tiny, doll-like girl hiding in her eggshell. She'd been so timid and frightened. Miki had never been just a 'chara' to her.
She drew a deep breath.
"Miki," Amu repeated. "Please tell me. If we can't- if you're going to go away, tell me, so I can fix it. Because I didn't fight to get you back, just so you could vanish, okay?"
"But I'm not- Amu, why are you so upset by this?" Miki sounded genuinely puzzled. "If visiting Kana is safe, then why does it matter who does it? And if it's not…"
"Because I didn't get you back because I wanted my 'Shugoi Charas'," Amu retorted, her voice laced with a raw pain that belied her attempt at steadfastness. "I got you back because- because- I missed you. You're my sister. I don't want you to disappear, okay? Not ever. Not- not like that. I want you here, and- and..." She trailed off, burying her face in Miki's shoulder. It felt hot, and her nose was running.
"Amu-chan..."
"You're my best friend, Miki," she mumbled. "I'm counting Utau in that. You're the only one who's always believed in me, even when I was being dumb. You're the one who taught me how to draw, and- and-" Amu shook her head. "You can't- you can't think like that. You're not allowed. You can't. Because I'm- I'd cry forever. I can't- we can't lose you. Please don't make us lose you. Please."
"Amu-chan." Miki was trying to argue. She wouldn't let her.
"Shut up, Miki," she muttered. "Shut up and let me finish. Because you're not- you're not an appendage, or a replacement. You're you. Okay? And- and we're twins now. And you can't make decisions for me, okay? So you can't decide to go instead of me. Or to- to- just-"
"Amu-chan," Miki repeated, and Amu didn't have the words to fill the air with. "And Mom. Listen, please. I used to be a chara, and those are only people because their hosts are people. Amu treats me like a real girl, but... it's not the same. I don't need to eat, or drink, and- um." She gave them a nervous smile. "The whole point of… this-" Miki gestured at her body, twin to Amu's own, "-I was thinking, maybe I could pretend? To be a person. Just like the two of you."
Oh, bull.
Amu pulled back, her pulse quickening. She gripped the side of the table.
"That's not even remotely funny."
"But I'm not joking?" Miki said. She made to continue, then trailed off, eyes falling on the table. The corner was splintering under Amu's grip. There was a loud crack-
-which everyone there ignored, though Amu tried to at least relax her fingers. It wasn't easy.
"Miki," their mother sighed. "Honey, what are you talking about? You are a person."
"I'm really not," Miki muttered.
Amu grimaced, and if she wasn't worried she'd break her like the table, would have tried to shake some sense into her. Yes, maybe that had been true once, years ago. But not now.
"Yes, you are," she told Miki. "Just like Eru and Iru, or me, or Kukai. And- um. About what you said. If you could... pretend. To be a person." She hugged herself. "Don't say that. That's- That's not okay. Not when I'm right here."
"But-"
"No," Amu insisted.
"You know charas aren't people," Miki said, her voice plaintive.
"And you aren't a chara!" Amu snapped.
"But I-"
"Not anymore."
Miki opened her mouth, then closed it and looked away. Amu was aware that her mother was staring at her, and her cheeks went red, but she didn't look away from Miki.
"You're a person, okay?" Amu continued, her voice softer. "Just like the rest of us."
"You are, and you're also my daughter," their mother said, stepping in. "And I'm not going to let you run into some disaster of a situation because you think you're worth less, and definitely not as a decoy. Do you understand?"
"Yeah." Miki looked down, then up again. "But Amu's going to run in there and risk us anyway. I could do it instead of her."
"Miki," Amu complained.
"No," Mom said.
"But-"
"No," Amu said.
"Furthermore, no," Mom agreed. "Miki-chan. Please. I can't pretend to understand everything you've been through. It's not fair of me to claim I do, and I'm not going to, but I know a teenage girl when I see one. I know my daughter when I see her. You're a person, and I love you, and I won't treat you as anything less than human."
"I'm not really a human," Miki mumbled. "Not like the two of you."
Mom exhaled. Her face was painfully drawn. She found Amu's hand, giving it a squeeze before continuing.
"Then neither is Amu," she said. "Nor Utau. Nor the rest of your friends, as far as I can tell. I've never had children before, and I have to say- it's a challenge, especially knowing I can't understand what they've been through. But you know what?"
"What?" Miki asked, looking up.
"I don't need to." Mom's voice was gentle. "I love you both, and I'm happy with having you as daughters. Stop trying to categorise it as anything else." She smiled. "And if you ever try and pull a stunt like this again, you're grounded until graduation. No arguments."
"Sorry," Miki whispered.
"I know," Mom told her. She wrapped her arms around the girl and hugged her, holding her tight. "Just- don't do it again. Please. Because the thought of losing either of you... it's terrifying. And you don't need to prove anything."
"Okay," Miki mumbled, leaning into her.
"And the next time you feel like this, talk to us, all right?"
Miki's nod was slow, hesitant.
"I'll try."
"Good," Mom said. She drew a deep breath. "We'll go shopping for a bunk bed tomorrow morning, Miki, and some other important bits. Clothes, too—I know you can make your own, but let me do this. Now. Let's see if we can figure out a solution to this mess, before either of you run off on me and get in trouble."
She paused, arms still around Miki before turning her gaze on her oldest daughter.
"Amu?"
"Y-yes, Mom?"
"Why are you so insistent you're the only one who can help Kana? Why is it dangerous, and why not the police? No deflections, please."
= = =
Ah, publicity; there's really nothing like it. You needn't worry that Kana will be left high and dry, as Amu came by her personality honestly, but there's a number of different ways this could go. Instead of just answering Midori's question, let's have a general vote on how this should be approached.
[ ] Deflect
- You were literally asked not to.
- Contested Socialise roll. Amu will almost certainly fail.
[ ] Use an analogy
- Does this really count as not giving anything away?
- Roll wits to make a good one. This has no storyline effect.
[ ] Call in help. Mom will accept not knowing if you aren't the one to go. Probably.
- [ ] Who?
- This is more true if you ask for help from an adult, or better yet JPs.
- It's far less true if you put Utau or Tadase in harm's way.
- Potentially a contested roll of… Manipulate + Socialize.
[ ] Play the risk of death down. Realistically, checking Kana's house shouldn't be that risky, right?
- Would have been more believable earlier.
- Contested roll, specifics depend on subvote; Manipulate + Socialize by default.
[ ] Explain that you have a 'radar' ability, to check inside without actually entering. This is true, and if it's empty you won't have to enter, right?
- Prepare for another argument if there is a danger inside, because you aren't going to be able to leave it alone at that point.
- [ ] Get Miki on side by promising (telepathically) that you will let her scout invisibly if there's a need?
[ ] Write-in
Isn't it common sense that snitches get buried in ditches?