Chapter 2.6
Baughn
Healing-type writer
- Location
- Dublin
Midori was tired.
It wasn't a physical sort of tired—not quite. More the sort of exhaustion that came from dealing with too many stressful things at once, from reporters, to her own children, to worrying what future those children would grow up into. Not physically tired, Midori thought, but existentially tired. She was thirty-four years old, and this had not been in the parent manual.
Her children were... psionic? That was Amu's word for it, and Midori had to admit it fit better than 'psychic'. There was a 'psychic' lady she'd sometimes seen on the TV and through work. A wonderful person, to be honest—a great entertainer, if a little silly—but 'psychics' were... well. Not real. Probably. Even if they were, they couldn't-
Create illusionary holes in the floor. Make themselves into a pair of twins, seemingly out of indecision. Lift cardboard boxes with their mind—lift the sofa with their mind—fly, transform like they were in an anime, kill demons.
Land themselves in 'magical-girl hospital'. A hidden government facility, for those that fought demons.
Watch, through their classmates' eyes, as more than a few of those classmates were killed by those very demons.
She'd started the day at home, worrying about Amu. Then, Amu's questionable friends; a revelation. Then, Ami's own revelation—and then Miki, of course, Midori's heart melting when she saw her little girl for the first time. And finally Utau, who Midori liked, and Amu certainly seemed to like a little too much.
"Mom?" Amu said, breaking her line of thought.
"Just wondering about how my day got so weird," Midori sighed, and reached out to pat her daughter's head. Amu blinked up at her. "What do you say we make a fresh start? Hello, Amu-chan. Nice to meet you. I'm your mother." She smiled. "We'll skip the awkward part and make our way straight to the hugs, I think."
Amu flushed. Midori reached out, grabbing the girl in a tight hug, and Amu returned it, leaning her head into Midori's shoulder.
"Um," said Amu, sounding flustered.
"The way this day is going, I'm sure you have another secret or two. Maybe Utau is secretly a superhero, or- well, I'd like to hope Ami isn't hiding a girlfriend as well." Midori snorted, not letting go. "You can't surprise me now. That's why I think we'll stop it here." She leaned down, kissing her daughter's forehead. Amu looked embarrassed. "You're not normal. Your little sister isn't normal. The world isn't normal. That's fine. We'll just keep rolling with the punches, and whatever you tell me today, I promise I won't hold it against you. We'll blame it on Pretty Cure. Or the government, whichever. Is that okay?"
Utau hid a smile. Amu blushed.
"I..." Her daughter looked conflicted. Midori gave her a minute, not letting go of the hug, and finally Amu nodded, looking up to meet her gaze. "Yeah. Yeah, it's okay."
"Good," Midori said. "Because the staircase looks like it leads to outer space. I need a hug."
Amu gave her a weak sort of chuckle, giving her a smile as her arms squeezed again, and Midori ruffled her daughter's hair again. She enjoyed doing that; it was a reminder that Amu was still young, for all that she was becoming a young woman. And Amu- well. Midori didn't pretend to understand psionics, but her daughter certainly felt a lot better after the hug. She didn't need mind-reading powers to know that.
Utau, beside them, smiled as well.
"I feel like I'm intruding," she commented.
"You're always welcome in the Hinamori household," Midori assured her. "Let's just make sure the dates are chaperoned."
Utau's blush was a thing of beauty. Amu, her daughter, sputtered, then froze.
"Uh," said Amu. "Utau isn't- she and I aren't- we're not-"
Midori snorted, releasing Amu and standing up straight. "I know, Amu-chan. Though-" Midori pretended to think. "Do you think she's pretty?"
"Mom," Amu objected. "Utau's amazing, but we're not- you can't just-" She glared at her mother, her expression frustrated. Midori met it calmly. Utau's emotions were... conflicted. She was worried, and a little bit happy, and Midori had to suppress the urge to ruffle her hair too.
"I wouldn't," Amu settled on, giving her mother a hard stare, which was cute but had no bite. "Even if she liked me back."
Midori looked at Utau, a small smile on her lips. Utau blushed and looked away, literally radiating embarrassment, and Midori- was pretty sure she'd done enough. Amusing as the interaction was, Utau was definitely Amu's type—and a good kid—and the girls had been through enough lately. Midori sighed.
"It's your life, Amu-chan," Midori said, reaching out to pat her daughter's shoulder. "Just don't get her pregnant."
"Mom!" Amu wailed, as Utau covered her mouth in an effort to avoid laughing. Midori didn't miss her daughter's tiny glance towards Utau, though. Nor the tiny, half-conscious smile.
"Now-" Midori said, looking back up the stairway that absolutely, certainly, most certainly didn't lead to outer space. It led upwards.
"Any thoughts?" she asked her daughter. "About this- sky tunnel."
Amu chewed at her lip.
"It's a mind-thing, maybe," the currently-brunette suggested. "Some kind of illusion... or dream, or... something like that?" Midori got the sense she was only half-looking with her eyes, peering forwards into- whatever it was. "There's people inside. One, at least. Yui and... Kana?" Amu peered up at Utau, who nodded. "Yui's both asleep and awake, I think," Amu summarised. "I- well, I think? She feels- far away, and she's dreaming, but still bumping into her surroundings. Sleepwalking, maybe?"
Utau nodded.
"Kana isn't," she declared. "I can't tell much about her, but she's deeply asleep. Not moving around."
Midori considered that, glancing between the two girls.
"So, let's say Yui's a dreamer and Kana isn't," Midori summarised. "If I understood Ami right. Anything else you can tell?"
Amu hesitated, staring upwards, and Midori let her think. The staircase was- she'd have called it normal, if she were only looking at the landing. If she tried to peer up, though, there was- mist, maybe? It looked misty, though also... not, she supposed. Certainly, it blocked her sight. It felt dream-like, in a way Midori couldn't quite describe, her perception of it warped in a way that made her head ache.
She didn't think it would be a good idea to touch it.
Amu and Utau did something Midori couldn't quite parse; maybe it was a thought, or a glance, or a conversation, or- she didn't know.
"We're- I should lead?" Utau suggested, a faint hint of something Midori recognised as doubt bleeding through despite her poker face. A week ago, she'd have thought she simply understood the girl that well. Now- well. Utau's telepathy had something to do with it.
Utau was brave, but she didn't feel confident. Amu would protect her, or she'd protect Amu; Midori suspected both girls thought the same thing. She smiled fondly at the couple.
Midori spent a cheerful second picturing pink-haired, purple-eyed grandchildren, then decided not to let on she was doing so.
"Then let's say Utau should lead," Midori said. "Your senses do seem sharper. Amu, keep a watchful eye out anyway. I don't think we're dealing with government agents or thugs here, do you?"
"I have no idea what's going on," her daughter admitted.
"Then stay alert," Midori repeated, putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "If something happens, do your best to keep yourselves safe. I'll do the same."
They nodded. Amu- Midori was confident Amu would do her best, and- well. Midori would do her best to not get in the way. As powerful as the children were, however, Midori didn't quite feel confident that would be enough. There was too much about the situation she didn't understand.
And Hinamori Midori really, really disliked not understanding, especially with family at stake.
"Let me take a moment to call Tsumugu," she said.
⁂
Their cellphones had stopped working five metres inside the house.
Mom stepped back into the entryway to make a call, let Dad know what they were doing, and that he should call JPs if they didn't call him back in half an hour. Amu hoped it wouldn't come to that—that would definitely be a sort of betrayal—but it was a good idea. If something did go wrong, Dad needed to know what to do.
Amu looked at the staircase going upwards and inwards
There was no mistaking it—and that was the strange part, wasn't it. This was, clearly, the same staircase it always had been. A circular spiral that wound its way up—the walls were the same green colour they had always been, and Amu could even pick out a faded little scratch she'd noticed last time. Wooden, just the way stairs were meant to be. It just... also went upwards in a weird and impossible way, stretching out and out and out until she lost track of where the top might be. She peered into the mist, trying to see the sky, and failed.
"This feels like a bad choice," Utau muttered.
Amu reached out to squeeze her hand, the blonde giving her a grateful sort of smile. It was, Amu thought. But Yui and Kana were trapped up there, and- she could tell, Utau wasn't reluctant. Not really.
Just... nervous?
It wasn't Utau's fault Amu understood her too well.
"Wait," said Mom, coming up from behind them. Amu blinked, looking back, as Mom handed Utau—and Amu, by extension—each a small flashlight. Amu flicked it on, peering into the mist. It didn't really help.
"Where'd you find these?" she asked.
"There's a stack in the hall table," Mom said. "I took a look around. Speaking of which, shouldn't we explore the bottom floor first?"
Utau considered this. Amu wasn't sure that was necessary. Kana was upstairs, right? ...and Yui, Yui was there too. She could... sort of feel it. It was weird and distant, and she was fairly sure the weirdness wasn't just her senses.
But-
She peered at Mom.
"We should," Utau decided, meeting Midori's gaze. "This could be dangerous. If there are any clues, I'd rather we find out before going upstairs."
Mom considered that, then gave the two of them a small nod.
She didn't feel the need, but- well, Mom had a point. They didn't know much, did they? Mom took the lead, checking through the rooms while Utau and Amu followed along. They started in the living room, which was where Amu had spent ninety-nine percent of her time here; Mom examined the bookshelves while Amu poked through Kana's video games.
Not much there.
They'd played Mario Party and Kirby: Triple Deluxe—Amu found herself blushing, remembering how Kana had dozed off against her afterwards. It had been... nice.
The bottom floor had the kitchen, Kana's room and Naomi's, and the laundry. So they checked Kana's next.
She'd spent time in Kana's bedroom too, which she thought about while Mom poked through it. It wasn't messy; it was a pretty modest room, not really personalised except for a few doo-dads, but it was pastel and bright; the window caught a lot of light. Utau and Mom poked through the girl's clothes, checked a small bookshelf, while Amu flopped down on Kana's bed.
Kana was-
Well. Amu knew the girl liked her. Amu was pretty sure she liked Kana. That was good enough, right? It didn't have to get weird, and Mom thankfully wasn't bringing it up with Utau right here.
...though Amu did have a pretty good guess that Mom wanted to. But still.
The way she liked Kana wasn't like a friend, not for any notion of friendship that she'd ever heard of, even with the other Guardians, but it wasn't romantic either. It just was. Kana was nice, Amu liked her, and she- it wasn't that she'd never thought about- but um. Being with Kana was comfortable, in a way she couldn't quite identify. When Kana wasn't there it often felt like something was missing—she'd start to turn towards her, to tell her a joke or point out some interesting tidbit, only to realise she wasn't around.
Having someone whose mind was just there and happy to push back against hers, who heard all the thoughts she couldn't fit in her words, was- something she'd never thought she'd needed until the day Kana wasn't there anymore, and Utau was close but still not the same, plus there was more… all sorts of things tangled up with the blonde that wasn't there with Kana, even with the- the murder. Kana was just… comfortable.
She took a mental breath.
Did that count as a crush? She didn't think it did. Not the way Amu understood it. Maybe more like they'd grown up together.
Anyways.
"Amu, have you seen this?" Mom interrupted.
Amu blinked, sitting up. Mom was holding up a drawing, an odd sort of expression on her face.
"...no?" she said, getting to her feet and walking over. Utau joined them. Mom handed her the picture—it looked a bit childlike, and a bit amateurish, and- oh.
The drawing was a stark contrast to the cheerful atmosphere of Kana's room. It depicted a shadowy figure, edges blurred and merging with a chaotic background of dark, swirling colours. The figure stood alone, outline sharp yet fragmented, as if pieced back together from shattered glass. In one hand, it held something resembling a knife, but the lines were smudged, making it seem like an extension of the figure itself, another fragment of the whole.
Around the figure, faint, almost ghostly images surfaced: faces with no discernible expressions, eyes closed or looking away. These images were interspersed with brighter spots of colour, forming strange, abstract patterns that almost resembled wings.
The longer Amu stared, the more she felt the image becoming uncomfortable. Like it was looking back at her.
She looked away first.
"N-no," she stammered. "What is that?"
Utau took it next, looking at it in silence.
"Give me a moment," she requested. "I've got a trick I want to try."
Mom raised an eyebrow, but Utau's expression was firm, and-
Amu felt- a presence, a sort of- something, spreading out. Utau? The Dumpty Key? A bit of both. Utau's power spread through the drawing like mist, probing its edges, then Amu felt a flash of something, her body tense-
Utau dropped the drawing, eyes wide, stumbling backwards, and Amu felt it. There was- pain? Something that made her head ache and her muscles sore, a sharp and painful sensation-
The drawing fell towards the floor, but Mom snatched it before it could.
"Utau?" Amu asked, hurrying to the blonde's side. She braced Utau just before the girl fell, helping her stand, and Utau's emotions were a mess of something Amu couldn't understand, and-
"I'm fine," Utau forced out, steadying herself. She didn't look fine. Amu squeezed her hand, and Utau took a deep breath and looked up at her. "That was unpleasant. What a nasty thing."
Mom looked between the pair of them, raising an eyebrow. Amu hesitated.
"Amu," Utau began, meeting her eyes. "Do you sense anything weird from the picture?"
"Uh," said Amu. "No." She stared at her friend, trying to make sense of her reaction. Then back at the picture. "Should I try?"
"No," said Utau, sharply, her emotions firm. Amu blinked, glancing back at her. "No," Utau repeated. "You don't need to see what I saw."
"See what?" Mom asked, glancing between the pair.
Utau drew in a breath.
"This will take a bit of explanation," she warned.
Mom gave her an expectant look. Utau hesitated, glancing at the picture.
⁂
Imagine postcognition. The ability to see what happened in the past to a thing, place or person. Got it?
"-well, it isn't like that," Utau said. She sat on Kana's bed, face still somewhat pale. "I can't see the past. Frankly, an hour ago I could barely see anything at all. The Dumpty Key is helping a lot, but- it's like trying to listen to music using the echo."
Mom frowned.
"I have trouble imagining it," she confessed. "I'd like you to walk me through again, if you can."
"I can see how things could have ended," Utau repeated. "Not every option; I'm not that good. I tried to reach back for Kana's drawing, but... it hurts. It's like..." She hesitated. "Imagine being killed by the doctor you think of as a father."
"Utau," Amu said.
"...that's what could have happened," Utau said, not meeting Amu's eyes. "One of the things that could have happened. There were a few other endings, but they were all-" She let out a ragged breath. "Bad."
Mom let that sink in.
"Then... how did the drawing end up there?" Mom asked. She looked a bit queasy.
"Something else happened," Utau answered, looking troubled. "Kana... or something. I can only see what didn't happen, what was likely to happen, not- I'm not sure what." She shook her head, frustrated. "I should be better at this."
"Utau," Amu said, voice quiet. She reached out to take her friend's hand, feeling Utau's gratitude as she turned that into a full hug.
⁂
Midori fingered the drawing in her hands. A possible past, a world that might have been.The drawing itself was bad enough.
"How old do you think Kana was at the time?" she asked. "When she drew this, I mean."
Utau sighed.
"Nine," she said. "Maybe a little older. Not much."
Midori stared at the drawing for a moment, doing the math. What she was about to say would sound… terrible. She didn't believe nine-year-olds could be bad people, but she still had to know.
"I don't want to be making too many assumptions," she said. "That would be foolish. But- based on your story... Kana's a good person, isn't she? Amu?"
Her daughter hesitated.
"I've met her only once," she continued, meeting Amu's eyes. "If that. She seemed nice enough at your birthday party, but I was hardly there. From the sounds of it she's a good girl, isn't she?" Right?
"Kana is," Amu agreed, quietly.
She considered that, looking back at the drawing, and tried not to tear it.
"I found that in her treasure box," she said, motioning towards the wardrobe. "There's another drawing on the bottom, and I think it might be worse. Utau-chan... are you up to looking at it?"
Utau tensed. Amu squeezed her shoulder.
"I- would rather not," Utau confessed. Midori nodded. "But," Utau finished, sighing. "Yes. For Kana's sake. And Amu's."
"You're a brave girl," Midori told her, smiling. "Amu is lucky to have a friend like you."
Amu flushed. Utau did too, glancing aside, and she got the sense she'd said just the right thing. Good.
Midori dug back into Kana's treasure box, dragging it out of the wardrobe. The top held an odd assortment of items: jewellery and hair clips, stickers and small figurines of cartoon characters. She didn't recognise all of them, but there was a Gekota. Huh. They'd been big in her youth... she hadn't thought anyone still sold those.
A teddy bear, a stuffed lion, a small photo album—Midori flipped through that, then put it down, and tossed the bear to Utau.
"Make anything of this?" she asked the blonde.
Utau caught it, looked it over, then closed her eyes again to do her thing. She took a moment, expression twisting a bit, and Amu squeezed her hand.
"It's Kana's," Utau concluded, giving her a quick smile. "She... loved it, then put it away when..." Utau sighed. "It's connected to the other picture, that's the only reason I'm getting anything at all. It was right afterwards. She didn't feel worthy of it. I'm not getting anything else."
"At nine," Midori said, quietly. She closed her eyes.
Amu took the bear from Utau and tucked it under Kana's blankets, looking at her. The look in her eyes-
"There's still the picture," she warned the girls. Amu nodded, and she dug it out. It was worse—she'd expected that, but seeing it made her grimace anyway. She'd seen drawings like this. Once, in an article on child abuse. It hadn't gained them any readers, she didn't think, but it had been… necessary.
Utau looked like she wanted to run.
"Amu," said Utau. "This..."
Kana had drawn a laboratory.
There were girls. Four of them lying down, one with no expression, the other three with their faces covered. There were three gravestones; no names on the stones, only numbers. Midori had a sinking feeling she knew what that meant. The fourth—the living one—had a name.
"Aoi," Amu read out, quietly.
There was a smaller, crying figure drawn in the corner, separated from the others by a wall. The room Kana had drawn herself in looked almost obnoxiously cheerful, all bright colours and sunshine, but then she'd drawn a pool of blood leaking under the door and a knife in her hand and-
Amu gulped, glancing back at her. Utau held Amu's hand tighter.
"Is that... Kana?" Amu asked. "When she was younger?"
It was a wholly rhetorical question.
"Utau?" Midori asked, quietly. "You don't need to do this. I don't think whatever you see will be good."
"It won't be," Utau admitted. "I'd rather not look. But... for Amu's sake..." She shook her head. "No, for Kana's. For Aoi's. I can't leave."
Midori didn't have anything to say to that. Utau closed her eyes, reaching for the drawing. Amu hugged the girl, and Midori wished she didn't have to. She wished the two girls hadn't gotten dragged into this, because they shouldn't need this sort of thing in their lives, but-
Utau shuddered, drawing in a breath.
"I think it's after. Two or three months," she reported, voice shaky. "Aoi died. Kana tried to save her, killed a person, then was shot—and died," Utau's voice hitched. "In one of the endings. There are more, but- they're not- I can't-" Utau shuddered again, taking a breath, and Midori didn't miss her glance back at the other drawing.
"In the less bad ones she ran. There were two." Utau opened her eyes, looking up. "She only got out in one, and a sniper killed her two days later. She was... ten. Probably." Utau sighed, then looked away. "Put this back in the box. Please," she added. "I can't- I need a second."
Midori took it, putting it back carefully. Utau looked miserable.
She... didn't know what to do. She wanted to hug the girl, but that felt presumptuous. Fortunately Amu was there, hugging Utau; Amu's own face was pale and Midori thought she might have seen the girl's eyes glow for a second there, but she'd already pulled Utau into a tight hug while Midori processed.
"The most likely endings, you said?" Midori asked. Utau nodded, leaning against Amu's embrace.
"More... probable, yes" the blonde corrected, quietly. "The histories that didn't happen. The ones that would have, except for-" Utau looked numb. "Something small."
"In some of them she kills people," she noted, feeling worried.
= = =
Yes, that does happen in some timelines.
Your dice luck is certainly there. Interrupt! Does Amu tell them?
[ ] Yes. Kana's killed people.
- This is probably the best possible situation to let them know, considering the mood.
- It's not going to improve the mood.
[ ] No. Keep quiet.
- She will successfully keep quiet.
It wasn't a physical sort of tired—not quite. More the sort of exhaustion that came from dealing with too many stressful things at once, from reporters, to her own children, to worrying what future those children would grow up into. Not physically tired, Midori thought, but existentially tired. She was thirty-four years old, and this had not been in the parent manual.
Her children were... psionic? That was Amu's word for it, and Midori had to admit it fit better than 'psychic'. There was a 'psychic' lady she'd sometimes seen on the TV and through work. A wonderful person, to be honest—a great entertainer, if a little silly—but 'psychics' were... well. Not real. Probably. Even if they were, they couldn't-
Create illusionary holes in the floor. Make themselves into a pair of twins, seemingly out of indecision. Lift cardboard boxes with their mind—lift the sofa with their mind—fly, transform like they were in an anime, kill demons.
Land themselves in 'magical-girl hospital'. A hidden government facility, for those that fought demons.
Watch, through their classmates' eyes, as more than a few of those classmates were killed by those very demons.
She'd started the day at home, worrying about Amu. Then, Amu's questionable friends; a revelation. Then, Ami's own revelation—and then Miki, of course, Midori's heart melting when she saw her little girl for the first time. And finally Utau, who Midori liked, and Amu certainly seemed to like a little too much.
"Mom?" Amu said, breaking her line of thought.
"Just wondering about how my day got so weird," Midori sighed, and reached out to pat her daughter's head. Amu blinked up at her. "What do you say we make a fresh start? Hello, Amu-chan. Nice to meet you. I'm your mother." She smiled. "We'll skip the awkward part and make our way straight to the hugs, I think."
Amu flushed. Midori reached out, grabbing the girl in a tight hug, and Amu returned it, leaning her head into Midori's shoulder.
"Um," said Amu, sounding flustered.
"The way this day is going, I'm sure you have another secret or two. Maybe Utau is secretly a superhero, or- well, I'd like to hope Ami isn't hiding a girlfriend as well." Midori snorted, not letting go. "You can't surprise me now. That's why I think we'll stop it here." She leaned down, kissing her daughter's forehead. Amu looked embarrassed. "You're not normal. Your little sister isn't normal. The world isn't normal. That's fine. We'll just keep rolling with the punches, and whatever you tell me today, I promise I won't hold it against you. We'll blame it on Pretty Cure. Or the government, whichever. Is that okay?"
Utau hid a smile. Amu blushed.
"I..." Her daughter looked conflicted. Midori gave her a minute, not letting go of the hug, and finally Amu nodded, looking up to meet her gaze. "Yeah. Yeah, it's okay."
"Good," Midori said. "Because the staircase looks like it leads to outer space. I need a hug."
Amu gave her a weak sort of chuckle, giving her a smile as her arms squeezed again, and Midori ruffled her daughter's hair again. She enjoyed doing that; it was a reminder that Amu was still young, for all that she was becoming a young woman. And Amu- well. Midori didn't pretend to understand psionics, but her daughter certainly felt a lot better after the hug. She didn't need mind-reading powers to know that.
Utau, beside them, smiled as well.
"I feel like I'm intruding," she commented.
"You're always welcome in the Hinamori household," Midori assured her. "Let's just make sure the dates are chaperoned."
Utau's blush was a thing of beauty. Amu, her daughter, sputtered, then froze.
"Uh," said Amu. "Utau isn't- she and I aren't- we're not-"
Midori snorted, releasing Amu and standing up straight. "I know, Amu-chan. Though-" Midori pretended to think. "Do you think she's pretty?"
"Mom," Amu objected. "Utau's amazing, but we're not- you can't just-" She glared at her mother, her expression frustrated. Midori met it calmly. Utau's emotions were... conflicted. She was worried, and a little bit happy, and Midori had to suppress the urge to ruffle her hair too.
"I wouldn't," Amu settled on, giving her mother a hard stare, which was cute but had no bite. "Even if she liked me back."
Midori looked at Utau, a small smile on her lips. Utau blushed and looked away, literally radiating embarrassment, and Midori- was pretty sure she'd done enough. Amusing as the interaction was, Utau was definitely Amu's type—and a good kid—and the girls had been through enough lately. Midori sighed.
"It's your life, Amu-chan," Midori said, reaching out to pat her daughter's shoulder. "Just don't get her pregnant."
"Mom!" Amu wailed, as Utau covered her mouth in an effort to avoid laughing. Midori didn't miss her daughter's tiny glance towards Utau, though. Nor the tiny, half-conscious smile.
"Now-" Midori said, looking back up the stairway that absolutely, certainly, most certainly didn't lead to outer space. It led upwards.
Amu chewed at her lip.
"It's a mind-thing, maybe," the currently-brunette suggested. "Some kind of illusion... or dream, or... something like that?" Midori got the sense she was only half-looking with her eyes, peering forwards into- whatever it was. "There's people inside. One, at least. Yui and... Kana?" Amu peered up at Utau, who nodded. "Yui's both asleep and awake, I think," Amu summarised. "I- well, I think? She feels- far away, and she's dreaming, but still bumping into her surroundings. Sleepwalking, maybe?"
Utau nodded.
"Kana isn't," she declared. "I can't tell much about her, but she's deeply asleep. Not moving around."
Midori considered that, glancing between the two girls.
"So, let's say Yui's a dreamer and Kana isn't," Midori summarised. "If I understood Ami right. Anything else you can tell?"
Amu hesitated, staring upwards, and Midori let her think. The staircase was- she'd have called it normal, if she were only looking at the landing. If she tried to peer up, though, there was- mist, maybe? It looked misty, though also... not, she supposed. Certainly, it blocked her sight. It felt dream-like, in a way Midori couldn't quite describe, her perception of it warped in a way that made her head ache.
She didn't think it would be a good idea to touch it.
Amu and Utau did something Midori couldn't quite parse; maybe it was a thought, or a glance, or a conversation, or- she didn't know.
"We're- I should lead?" Utau suggested, a faint hint of something Midori recognised as doubt bleeding through despite her poker face. A week ago, she'd have thought she simply understood the girl that well. Now- well. Utau's telepathy had something to do with it.
Utau was brave, but she didn't feel confident. Amu would protect her, or she'd protect Amu; Midori suspected both girls thought the same thing. She smiled fondly at the couple.
Midori spent a cheerful second picturing pink-haired, purple-eyed grandchildren, then decided not to let on she was doing so.
"Then let's say Utau should lead," Midori said. "Your senses do seem sharper. Amu, keep a watchful eye out anyway. I don't think we're dealing with government agents or thugs here, do you?"
"I have no idea what's going on," her daughter admitted.
"Then stay alert," Midori repeated, putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "If something happens, do your best to keep yourselves safe. I'll do the same."
They nodded. Amu- Midori was confident Amu would do her best, and- well. Midori would do her best to not get in the way. As powerful as the children were, however, Midori didn't quite feel confident that would be enough. There was too much about the situation she didn't understand.
And Hinamori Midori really, really disliked not understanding, especially with family at stake.
"Let me take a moment to call Tsumugu," she said.
⁂
Their cellphones had stopped working five metres inside the house.
Mom stepped back into the entryway to make a call, let Dad know what they were doing, and that he should call JPs if they didn't call him back in half an hour. Amu hoped it wouldn't come to that—that would definitely be a sort of betrayal—but it was a good idea. If something did go wrong, Dad needed to know what to do.
Amu looked at the staircase going upwards and inwards
There was no mistaking it—and that was the strange part, wasn't it. This was, clearly, the same staircase it always had been. A circular spiral that wound its way up—the walls were the same green colour they had always been, and Amu could even pick out a faded little scratch she'd noticed last time. Wooden, just the way stairs were meant to be. It just... also went upwards in a weird and impossible way, stretching out and out and out until she lost track of where the top might be. She peered into the mist, trying to see the sky, and failed.
"This feels like a bad choice," Utau muttered.
Amu reached out to squeeze her hand, the blonde giving her a grateful sort of smile. It was, Amu thought. But Yui and Kana were trapped up there, and- she could tell, Utau wasn't reluctant. Not really.
Just... nervous?
It wasn't Utau's fault Amu understood her too well.
"Wait," said Mom, coming up from behind them. Amu blinked, looking back, as Mom handed Utau—and Amu, by extension—each a small flashlight. Amu flicked it on, peering into the mist. It didn't really help.
"Where'd you find these?" she asked.
"There's a stack in the hall table," Mom said. "I took a look around. Speaking of which, shouldn't we explore the bottom floor first?"
Utau considered this. Amu wasn't sure that was necessary. Kana was upstairs, right? ...and Yui, Yui was there too. She could... sort of feel it. It was weird and distant, and she was fairly sure the weirdness wasn't just her senses.
But-
She peered at Mom.
"We should," Utau decided, meeting Midori's gaze. "This could be dangerous. If there are any clues, I'd rather we find out before going upstairs."
Mom considered that, then gave the two of them a small nod.
She didn't feel the need, but- well, Mom had a point. They didn't know much, did they? Mom took the lead, checking through the rooms while Utau and Amu followed along. They started in the living room, which was where Amu had spent ninety-nine percent of her time here; Mom examined the bookshelves while Amu poked through Kana's video games.
Not much there.
They'd played Mario Party and Kirby: Triple Deluxe—Amu found herself blushing, remembering how Kana had dozed off against her afterwards. It had been... nice.
The bottom floor had the kitchen, Kana's room and Naomi's, and the laundry. So they checked Kana's next.
She'd spent time in Kana's bedroom too, which she thought about while Mom poked through it. It wasn't messy; it was a pretty modest room, not really personalised except for a few doo-dads, but it was pastel and bright; the window caught a lot of light. Utau and Mom poked through the girl's clothes, checked a small bookshelf, while Amu flopped down on Kana's bed.
Kana was-
Well. Amu knew the girl liked her. Amu was pretty sure she liked Kana. That was good enough, right? It didn't have to get weird, and Mom thankfully wasn't bringing it up with Utau right here.
...though Amu did have a pretty good guess that Mom wanted to. But still.
The way she liked Kana wasn't like a friend, not for any notion of friendship that she'd ever heard of, even with the other Guardians, but it wasn't romantic either. It just was. Kana was nice, Amu liked her, and she- it wasn't that she'd never thought about- but um. Being with Kana was comfortable, in a way she couldn't quite identify. When Kana wasn't there it often felt like something was missing—she'd start to turn towards her, to tell her a joke or point out some interesting tidbit, only to realise she wasn't around.
Having someone whose mind was just there and happy to push back against hers, who heard all the thoughts she couldn't fit in her words, was- something she'd never thought she'd needed until the day Kana wasn't there anymore, and Utau was close but still not the same, plus there was more… all sorts of things tangled up with the blonde that wasn't there with Kana, even with the- the murder. Kana was just… comfortable.
She took a mental breath.
Did that count as a crush? She didn't think it did. Not the way Amu understood it. Maybe more like they'd grown up together.
Anyways.
"Amu, have you seen this?" Mom interrupted.
Amu blinked, sitting up. Mom was holding up a drawing, an odd sort of expression on her face.
"...no?" she said, getting to her feet and walking over. Utau joined them. Mom handed her the picture—it looked a bit childlike, and a bit amateurish, and- oh.
The drawing was a stark contrast to the cheerful atmosphere of Kana's room. It depicted a shadowy figure, edges blurred and merging with a chaotic background of dark, swirling colours. The figure stood alone, outline sharp yet fragmented, as if pieced back together from shattered glass. In one hand, it held something resembling a knife, but the lines were smudged, making it seem like an extension of the figure itself, another fragment of the whole.
Around the figure, faint, almost ghostly images surfaced: faces with no discernible expressions, eyes closed or looking away. These images were interspersed with brighter spots of colour, forming strange, abstract patterns that almost resembled wings.
The longer Amu stared, the more she felt the image becoming uncomfortable. Like it was looking back at her.
She looked away first.
"N-no," she stammered. "What is that?"
Utau took it next, looking at it in silence.
"Give me a moment," she requested. "I've got a trick I want to try."
Mom raised an eyebrow, but Utau's expression was firm, and-
Amu felt- a presence, a sort of- something, spreading out. Utau? The Dumpty Key? A bit of both. Utau's power spread through the drawing like mist, probing its edges, then Amu felt a flash of something, her body tense-
Utau dropped the drawing, eyes wide, stumbling backwards, and Amu felt it. There was- pain? Something that made her head ache and her muscles sore, a sharp and painful sensation-
The drawing fell towards the floor, but Mom snatched it before it could.
"Utau?" Amu asked, hurrying to the blonde's side. She braced Utau just before the girl fell, helping her stand, and Utau's emotions were a mess of something Amu couldn't understand, and-
"I'm fine," Utau forced out, steadying herself. She didn't look fine. Amu squeezed her hand, and Utau took a deep breath and looked up at her. "That was unpleasant. What a nasty thing."
Mom looked between the pair of them, raising an eyebrow. Amu hesitated.
"Amu," Utau began, meeting her eyes. "Do you sense anything weird from the picture?"
"Uh," said Amu. "No." She stared at her friend, trying to make sense of her reaction. Then back at the picture. "Should I try?"
"No," said Utau, sharply, her emotions firm. Amu blinked, glancing back at her. "No," Utau repeated. "You don't need to see what I saw."
"See what?" Mom asked, glancing between the pair.
Utau drew in a breath.
"This will take a bit of explanation," she warned.
Mom gave her an expectant look. Utau hesitated, glancing at the picture.
⁂
Imagine postcognition. The ability to see what happened in the past to a thing, place or person. Got it?
"-well, it isn't like that," Utau said. She sat on Kana's bed, face still somewhat pale. "I can't see the past. Frankly, an hour ago I could barely see anything at all. The Dumpty Key is helping a lot, but- it's like trying to listen to music using the echo."
Mom frowned.
"I have trouble imagining it," she confessed. "I'd like you to walk me through again, if you can."
"I can see how things could have ended," Utau repeated. "Not every option; I'm not that good. I tried to reach back for Kana's drawing, but... it hurts. It's like..." She hesitated. "Imagine being killed by the doctor you think of as a father."
"Utau," Amu said.
"...that's what could have happened," Utau said, not meeting Amu's eyes. "One of the things that could have happened. There were a few other endings, but they were all-" She let out a ragged breath. "Bad."
Mom let that sink in.
"Then... how did the drawing end up there?" Mom asked. She looked a bit queasy.
"Something else happened," Utau answered, looking troubled. "Kana... or something. I can only see what didn't happen, what was likely to happen, not- I'm not sure what." She shook her head, frustrated. "I should be better at this."
"Utau," Amu said, voice quiet. She reached out to take her friend's hand, feeling Utau's gratitude as she turned that into a full hug.
⁂
Midori fingered the drawing in her hands. A possible past, a world that might have been.The drawing itself was bad enough.
"How old do you think Kana was at the time?" she asked. "When she drew this, I mean."
Utau sighed.
"Nine," she said. "Maybe a little older. Not much."
Midori stared at the drawing for a moment, doing the math. What she was about to say would sound… terrible. She didn't believe nine-year-olds could be bad people, but she still had to know.
"I don't want to be making too many assumptions," she said. "That would be foolish. But- based on your story... Kana's a good person, isn't she? Amu?"
Her daughter hesitated.
"I've met her only once," she continued, meeting Amu's eyes. "If that. She seemed nice enough at your birthday party, but I was hardly there. From the sounds of it she's a good girl, isn't she?" Right?
"Kana is," Amu agreed, quietly.
She considered that, looking back at the drawing, and tried not to tear it.
"I found that in her treasure box," she said, motioning towards the wardrobe. "There's another drawing on the bottom, and I think it might be worse. Utau-chan... are you up to looking at it?"
Utau tensed. Amu squeezed her shoulder.
"I- would rather not," Utau confessed. Midori nodded. "But," Utau finished, sighing. "Yes. For Kana's sake. And Amu's."
"You're a brave girl," Midori told her, smiling. "Amu is lucky to have a friend like you."
Amu flushed. Utau did too, glancing aside, and she got the sense she'd said just the right thing. Good.
Midori dug back into Kana's treasure box, dragging it out of the wardrobe. The top held an odd assortment of items: jewellery and hair clips, stickers and small figurines of cartoon characters. She didn't recognise all of them, but there was a Gekota. Huh. They'd been big in her youth... she hadn't thought anyone still sold those.
A teddy bear, a stuffed lion, a small photo album—Midori flipped through that, then put it down, and tossed the bear to Utau.
"Make anything of this?" she asked the blonde.
Utau caught it, looked it over, then closed her eyes again to do her thing. She took a moment, expression twisting a bit, and Amu squeezed her hand.
"It's Kana's," Utau concluded, giving her a quick smile. "She... loved it, then put it away when..." Utau sighed. "It's connected to the other picture, that's the only reason I'm getting anything at all. It was right afterwards. She didn't feel worthy of it. I'm not getting anything else."
"At nine," Midori said, quietly. She closed her eyes.
Amu took the bear from Utau and tucked it under Kana's blankets, looking at her. The look in her eyes-
"There's still the picture," she warned the girls. Amu nodded, and she dug it out. It was worse—she'd expected that, but seeing it made her grimace anyway. She'd seen drawings like this. Once, in an article on child abuse. It hadn't gained them any readers, she didn't think, but it had been… necessary.
Utau looked like she wanted to run.
"Amu," said Utau. "This..."
Kana had drawn a laboratory.
There were girls. Four of them lying down, one with no expression, the other three with their faces covered. There were three gravestones; no names on the stones, only numbers. Midori had a sinking feeling she knew what that meant. The fourth—the living one—had a name.
"Aoi," Amu read out, quietly.
There was a smaller, crying figure drawn in the corner, separated from the others by a wall. The room Kana had drawn herself in looked almost obnoxiously cheerful, all bright colours and sunshine, but then she'd drawn a pool of blood leaking under the door and a knife in her hand and-
Amu gulped, glancing back at her. Utau held Amu's hand tighter.
"Is that... Kana?" Amu asked. "When she was younger?"
It was a wholly rhetorical question.
"Utau?" Midori asked, quietly. "You don't need to do this. I don't think whatever you see will be good."
"It won't be," Utau admitted. "I'd rather not look. But... for Amu's sake..." She shook her head. "No, for Kana's. For Aoi's. I can't leave."
Midori didn't have anything to say to that. Utau closed her eyes, reaching for the drawing. Amu hugged the girl, and Midori wished she didn't have to. She wished the two girls hadn't gotten dragged into this, because they shouldn't need this sort of thing in their lives, but-
Utau shuddered, drawing in a breath.
"I think it's after. Two or three months," she reported, voice shaky. "Aoi died. Kana tried to save her, killed a person, then was shot—and died," Utau's voice hitched. "In one of the endings. There are more, but- they're not- I can't-" Utau shuddered again, taking a breath, and Midori didn't miss her glance back at the other drawing.
"In the less bad ones she ran. There were two." Utau opened her eyes, looking up. "She only got out in one, and a sniper killed her two days later. She was... ten. Probably." Utau sighed, then looked away. "Put this back in the box. Please," she added. "I can't- I need a second."
Midori took it, putting it back carefully. Utau looked miserable.
She... didn't know what to do. She wanted to hug the girl, but that felt presumptuous. Fortunately Amu was there, hugging Utau; Amu's own face was pale and Midori thought she might have seen the girl's eyes glow for a second there, but she'd already pulled Utau into a tight hug while Midori processed.
"The most likely endings, you said?" Midori asked. Utau nodded, leaning against Amu's embrace.
"More... probable, yes" the blonde corrected, quietly. "The histories that didn't happen. The ones that would have, except for-" Utau looked numb. "Something small."
"In some of them she kills people," she noted, feeling worried.
= = =
Yes, that does happen in some timelines.
Your dice luck is certainly there. Interrupt! Does Amu tell them?
[ ] Yes. Kana's killed people.
- This is probably the best possible situation to let them know, considering the mood.
- It's not going to improve the mood.
[ ] No. Keep quiet.
- She will successfully keep quiet.
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