Chapter One - Eight Months
1 - Eight Months
Her story began eight months earlier, with Reese and Yuri sitting in the same apartment, bingeing on soda, snack food, and a deadly cocktail of Japanese television (both animated and live-action), American and British science-fiction shows, and the occasional hilariously terrible Soul Calibur death-match. It was a tradition that had begun not terribly long after they met in eighth grade and realized they were both geekily kindred spirits. The particulars changed: what shows they watched, what snacks they consumed, but this was their so-called "girls' night out," and had been for years.
Eventually, between episodes of Doctor Who, Reese leaned back and sighed. "Not that I'm complaining, but I know something's up, chicka. So spill it."
Yuri scowled, reaching for the bag of chips that lay open between them. "So, you know how I've been having weird dreams again lately?"
"The ones where the phone rings and you answer it and it's some old lady saying, 'Your father's coming home,' and then you hear some chick scream and you're all alone in the house?" Reese asked. Yuri nodded.
"Yeah. Well, night before last, this old woman called. She didn't speak much English, but I figured out she was asking for Dad, and it turns out that Dad's sister, Shizuka, committed suicide and that old woman is the grandmother that disowned him, and now he and Mom are flying out to Japan to be with her."
Reese pursed her lips before saying judiciously, "That really sucks. But you don't know any of your dad's family, right? So that's not so bad, right?"
"You're so terrible," Yuri scolded, though she smirked a little. "But yeah, you're right. I didn't know the woman, and by all accounts my great grandmother is this crotchety old bag who's mean and spiteful. But that's not the weird part."
One of Reese's eyebrows (the pierced one, of course) crept up. "It gets better?"
"No, it gets worse. So, night before last, Dad gets a call from his evil grandmother saying that his sister committed suicide. He's torn up, but apparently he kind of saw it coming because she's been unstable for a while, right? But what I didn't know until last night was that Shizuka wasn't always like that." She took a deep breath before continuing, "Apparently, she had this guy she was madly in love with, and she got pregnant, but when the guy up and left her, she just lost her mind. Her grandmother wanted her to get rid of the baby, but that just made it worse. So Dad and Mom told her they'd take care of the kid because she couldn't do it. And that's why Dad got disowned."
"Whoa. Suckage." Reese looked at her for a moment before her brow furrowed. "But hang on, you're an only child, aren't you? Did the baby die before you were born or something?"
Yuri took another shaky breath. "Yes and no."
"Oh. Oh..." Understanding dawned on her friend's face, and she reached over and hugged her tightly. "I'm sorry, chicka. If you want to talk about it..."
"No, it's all right. Like I said, it's weird, but you're right, I never met the woman. Mom and Dad raised me, and even if Dad's genetically my uncle, he's really my Dad." Yuri shook her head and pulled away. "It's just weird, is all. Really."
Reese nodded and pushed the one lock of hair (currently a frenetic orange) behind her ear. "Well, I'm here for you, chicka."
"Thanks," Yuri said with a smile that almost reached her eyes. "So how about you? You liking it here? Is being a kept woman all it's cracked up to be?"
"It's nice to not be living with my mother, if that's what you mean," Reese said with a snort. "Lexi and Matt are good sports about the whole mess, too."
"I know they're good people," Yuri said, stressing the words to emphasize that she wasn't so much describing them as good as she was commenting that they were of a different breed than most people. "But I guess I'm a little worried about if you're being a good sport. I was there when Matt and Lexi started going out. I remember how miserable you were."
Her friend grimaced as though those particular memories had a singularly awful taste. "Like you said, it's just weird. I'm fine."
For a moment, Yuri felt as though something important were drifting by, that if she didn't snatch it, it would be gone. The moment flitted away, though, and they lapsed into something that might have been companionable silence before putting on an episode of Stargate and resuming their fannish binge.
*
By 2:40 am, they'd exhausted a good portion of their supply of media, Soul Calibur wasn't quite as hilarious, and the snacks had completely disappeared ("But why are the snacks gone?" Reese drawled, stumbling around the kitchen doing her very best drunken Jack Sparrow). As Yuri began gathering her belongings and shoving them into a messenger bag by the door, her friend said, "You're allowed to stay the night. Didn't you ride your bike or some silly shit like that?"
Yuri slipped on her sandals and pulled her bicycle helmet over her head. "Yeah, but it's not far, and I'd really just like to be home tonight, y'know?"
"I guess I can understand that one," Reese acknowledged. "I just don't like it when you wander out all alone. Take care of yourself, okay? And give me a call sometime, let me know how you're doing."
"I will," Yuri said, slinging her bag over one shoulder and stepping out into the cool August evening. She un-chained her bicycle from the balcony and walked it gently down the stairs toward Liberty Street. Once there, she slung a leg over the bike, seated herself, shifted her bag so it rested more comfortably, and began pedaling.
The apartment complex was lit well enough, but once she turned onto the Pegg Road, she had only her manually powered headlamp to guide her. The more she pedaled, the brighter it got, and when she hit her stride, it rendered the road a little less visible than the headlight on her car might. At the very least, it had always been enough to see her path and be seen by any traffic she might encounter at night.
She saw the truck's headlights as it pulled up behind her, but remained unworried; her clothing was light, her reflectors were clean, she'd done everything in her power to be visible short of wearing an orange safety vest. It occurred to her much later that she was riding in the dark on a Friday night, and despite last call having been an hour ago, the odds were entirely in favor of the driver being drunk.
For a moment, she felt like the bottom dropped out of her stomach as the truck came up too fast, drifting lazily into the pittance of a bicycle lane. Seconds stretched, the corner of the truck's rear bumper clipped her front tire and sent her careening through the air and toward the trees on the side of the road.
Visibility was nil, but Yuri could still vaguely make out the ground into which she was destined to crash. She had enough presence of mind to think, I'm glad I didn't forget my helmet, and then things went black.
*
She wasn't sure exactly what she'd expected from being dead, but she was sure that it wasn't exactly what she found herself experiencing. All around her was a black so dark and thick that it was so much more than the mere absence of light. It seemed to be a living, breathing, membranous thing, an undulating ocean, a vast expanse of arid claustrophobia, everything and nothing at once.
It came perilously close to making her head hurt.
"Do I even have a head to hurt now?" she mused aloud.
Yes. It is a very beautiful head. I am rather surprised to find such a thing here, let alone attached to a body. Yuri did not so much hear the voice as feel it: a warm tingle at the base of her skull. She turned in the direction she thought it had come from, though the black turned what should have been a whip-like motion into a slow, languorous rotation.
Facing her was what might have been a broken man, once, but such terms as "broken" and "man" were hardly applicable anymore. He was a memory of a man, distorted and twisted, with long hair the color of the surroundings and a smooth white face, nearly featureless and like porcelain. It had a few curves to it which described delicate, high cheekbones, a somewhat Roman nose, and a Cupid's bow mouth which was ever-so-slightly frowning. He was tall, and wispy, with long elegant limbs, though he was very clearly more slender than could possibly be healthy.
"What do you mean?" Yuri inquired, swallowing against the momentary flash of fear that coursed through her body. "I mean, why's it weird for someone to be here, and where is here?"
The man cocked his head to one side curiously, drifting slightly closer. It is bizarre because very few people know that this place, this membrane between planes, even exists, and of those few, even fewer can come here. He paused. Typically, only a Worldwalker could do such a thing. But this place is so vast, why did you choose to visit me?
Yuri blinked in confusion. "You mean I'm not dead?"
No... Should you be? The man's puzzlement was quite evident, despite his utter lack of facial expression.
"Yeah, probably," she said. "I got hit by a truck while I was riding my bike to home, and then everything went black. That's what dying would be like, I think."
The man continued to drift closer, his hair floating around his head as though he were under water. I do not believe you are dead. If you are dead, then I am also dead, and the Gods are too cruel to allow me that. He shrugged, a slight lift of his sharp shoulders. But, still... why did you choose to visit me?
"I-- I don't think I meant to," said Yuri. "I mean, everything just went black, like I said, and then you started speaking to me. It just sort of... happened." She paused, and a thought struck her. "If I'm not dead, does that mean I can go home? And if so, how do I manage it?"
A moment passed before the man extended a spindly arm and pointed off to the side. Go that way. From there, you should be able to find your way. At least, that is the way I always took before.
Yuri nodded and kicked her feet to propel herself in the direction he indicated. "Thanks, Mister...?"
Corwyn. My name is Corwyn. He sketched a vague sort of languid bow, though he never took his "eyes" off of the girl who propelled herself slowly away from him.
"Well, thanks, Mister Corwyn," Yuri said. "If we meet again, my name's Yuri."
She got the distinct impression that, if the man had a face under the white porcelain mask, he would be smirking sardonically. With any luck, we shall not meet again. Safe travels to you, Miss Yuri.
Before she could say anything in response, the black disappeared, and she found herself falling.
Her story began eight months earlier, with Reese and Yuri sitting in the same apartment, bingeing on soda, snack food, and a deadly cocktail of Japanese television (both animated and live-action), American and British science-fiction shows, and the occasional hilariously terrible Soul Calibur death-match. It was a tradition that had begun not terribly long after they met in eighth grade and realized they were both geekily kindred spirits. The particulars changed: what shows they watched, what snacks they consumed, but this was their so-called "girls' night out," and had been for years.
Eventually, between episodes of Doctor Who, Reese leaned back and sighed. "Not that I'm complaining, but I know something's up, chicka. So spill it."
Yuri scowled, reaching for the bag of chips that lay open between them. "So, you know how I've been having weird dreams again lately?"
"The ones where the phone rings and you answer it and it's some old lady saying, 'Your father's coming home,' and then you hear some chick scream and you're all alone in the house?" Reese asked. Yuri nodded.
"Yeah. Well, night before last, this old woman called. She didn't speak much English, but I figured out she was asking for Dad, and it turns out that Dad's sister, Shizuka, committed suicide and that old woman is the grandmother that disowned him, and now he and Mom are flying out to Japan to be with her."
Reese pursed her lips before saying judiciously, "That really sucks. But you don't know any of your dad's family, right? So that's not so bad, right?"
"You're so terrible," Yuri scolded, though she smirked a little. "But yeah, you're right. I didn't know the woman, and by all accounts my great grandmother is this crotchety old bag who's mean and spiteful. But that's not the weird part."
One of Reese's eyebrows (the pierced one, of course) crept up. "It gets better?"
"No, it gets worse. So, night before last, Dad gets a call from his evil grandmother saying that his sister committed suicide. He's torn up, but apparently he kind of saw it coming because she's been unstable for a while, right? But what I didn't know until last night was that Shizuka wasn't always like that." She took a deep breath before continuing, "Apparently, she had this guy she was madly in love with, and she got pregnant, but when the guy up and left her, she just lost her mind. Her grandmother wanted her to get rid of the baby, but that just made it worse. So Dad and Mom told her they'd take care of the kid because she couldn't do it. And that's why Dad got disowned."
"Whoa. Suckage." Reese looked at her for a moment before her brow furrowed. "But hang on, you're an only child, aren't you? Did the baby die before you were born or something?"
Yuri took another shaky breath. "Yes and no."
"Oh. Oh..." Understanding dawned on her friend's face, and she reached over and hugged her tightly. "I'm sorry, chicka. If you want to talk about it..."
"No, it's all right. Like I said, it's weird, but you're right, I never met the woman. Mom and Dad raised me, and even if Dad's genetically my uncle, he's really my Dad." Yuri shook her head and pulled away. "It's just weird, is all. Really."
Reese nodded and pushed the one lock of hair (currently a frenetic orange) behind her ear. "Well, I'm here for you, chicka."
"Thanks," Yuri said with a smile that almost reached her eyes. "So how about you? You liking it here? Is being a kept woman all it's cracked up to be?"
"It's nice to not be living with my mother, if that's what you mean," Reese said with a snort. "Lexi and Matt are good sports about the whole mess, too."
"I know they're good people," Yuri said, stressing the words to emphasize that she wasn't so much describing them as good as she was commenting that they were of a different breed than most people. "But I guess I'm a little worried about if you're being a good sport. I was there when Matt and Lexi started going out. I remember how miserable you were."
Her friend grimaced as though those particular memories had a singularly awful taste. "Like you said, it's just weird. I'm fine."
For a moment, Yuri felt as though something important were drifting by, that if she didn't snatch it, it would be gone. The moment flitted away, though, and they lapsed into something that might have been companionable silence before putting on an episode of Stargate and resuming their fannish binge.
*
By 2:40 am, they'd exhausted a good portion of their supply of media, Soul Calibur wasn't quite as hilarious, and the snacks had completely disappeared ("But why are the snacks gone?" Reese drawled, stumbling around the kitchen doing her very best drunken Jack Sparrow). As Yuri began gathering her belongings and shoving them into a messenger bag by the door, her friend said, "You're allowed to stay the night. Didn't you ride your bike or some silly shit like that?"
Yuri slipped on her sandals and pulled her bicycle helmet over her head. "Yeah, but it's not far, and I'd really just like to be home tonight, y'know?"
"I guess I can understand that one," Reese acknowledged. "I just don't like it when you wander out all alone. Take care of yourself, okay? And give me a call sometime, let me know how you're doing."
"I will," Yuri said, slinging her bag over one shoulder and stepping out into the cool August evening. She un-chained her bicycle from the balcony and walked it gently down the stairs toward Liberty Street. Once there, she slung a leg over the bike, seated herself, shifted her bag so it rested more comfortably, and began pedaling.
The apartment complex was lit well enough, but once she turned onto the Pegg Road, she had only her manually powered headlamp to guide her. The more she pedaled, the brighter it got, and when she hit her stride, it rendered the road a little less visible than the headlight on her car might. At the very least, it had always been enough to see her path and be seen by any traffic she might encounter at night.
She saw the truck's headlights as it pulled up behind her, but remained unworried; her clothing was light, her reflectors were clean, she'd done everything in her power to be visible short of wearing an orange safety vest. It occurred to her much later that she was riding in the dark on a Friday night, and despite last call having been an hour ago, the odds were entirely in favor of the driver being drunk.
For a moment, she felt like the bottom dropped out of her stomach as the truck came up too fast, drifting lazily into the pittance of a bicycle lane. Seconds stretched, the corner of the truck's rear bumper clipped her front tire and sent her careening through the air and toward the trees on the side of the road.
Visibility was nil, but Yuri could still vaguely make out the ground into which she was destined to crash. She had enough presence of mind to think, I'm glad I didn't forget my helmet, and then things went black.
*
She wasn't sure exactly what she'd expected from being dead, but she was sure that it wasn't exactly what she found herself experiencing. All around her was a black so dark and thick that it was so much more than the mere absence of light. It seemed to be a living, breathing, membranous thing, an undulating ocean, a vast expanse of arid claustrophobia, everything and nothing at once.
It came perilously close to making her head hurt.
"Do I even have a head to hurt now?" she mused aloud.
Yes. It is a very beautiful head. I am rather surprised to find such a thing here, let alone attached to a body. Yuri did not so much hear the voice as feel it: a warm tingle at the base of her skull. She turned in the direction she thought it had come from, though the black turned what should have been a whip-like motion into a slow, languorous rotation.
Facing her was what might have been a broken man, once, but such terms as "broken" and "man" were hardly applicable anymore. He was a memory of a man, distorted and twisted, with long hair the color of the surroundings and a smooth white face, nearly featureless and like porcelain. It had a few curves to it which described delicate, high cheekbones, a somewhat Roman nose, and a Cupid's bow mouth which was ever-so-slightly frowning. He was tall, and wispy, with long elegant limbs, though he was very clearly more slender than could possibly be healthy.
"What do you mean?" Yuri inquired, swallowing against the momentary flash of fear that coursed through her body. "I mean, why's it weird for someone to be here, and where is here?"
The man cocked his head to one side curiously, drifting slightly closer. It is bizarre because very few people know that this place, this membrane between planes, even exists, and of those few, even fewer can come here. He paused. Typically, only a Worldwalker could do such a thing. But this place is so vast, why did you choose to visit me?
Yuri blinked in confusion. "You mean I'm not dead?"
No... Should you be? The man's puzzlement was quite evident, despite his utter lack of facial expression.
"Yeah, probably," she said. "I got hit by a truck while I was riding my bike to home, and then everything went black. That's what dying would be like, I think."
The man continued to drift closer, his hair floating around his head as though he were under water. I do not believe you are dead. If you are dead, then I am also dead, and the Gods are too cruel to allow me that. He shrugged, a slight lift of his sharp shoulders. But, still... why did you choose to visit me?
"I-- I don't think I meant to," said Yuri. "I mean, everything just went black, like I said, and then you started speaking to me. It just sort of... happened." She paused, and a thought struck her. "If I'm not dead, does that mean I can go home? And if so, how do I manage it?"
A moment passed before the man extended a spindly arm and pointed off to the side. Go that way. From there, you should be able to find your way. At least, that is the way I always took before.
Yuri nodded and kicked her feet to propel herself in the direction he indicated. "Thanks, Mister...?"
Corwyn. My name is Corwyn. He sketched a vague sort of languid bow, though he never took his "eyes" off of the girl who propelled herself slowly away from him.
"Well, thanks, Mister Corwyn," Yuri said. "If we meet again, my name's Yuri."
She got the distinct impression that, if the man had a face under the white porcelain mask, he would be smirking sardonically. With any luck, we shall not meet again. Safe travels to you, Miss Yuri.
Before she could say anything in response, the black disappeared, and she found herself falling.