Archive of Our Own

There were many unpleasant ways to die - and even more when it came to being lost. Imaizumi and Naruko would argue about what was the worse fate, in the middle of lunch break, and Onoda often had to excuse herself to have any chance of finishing her food. No matter how used she became to magic, she didn't have the comfort those two had in it - nor the talent in dealing with anything she faced.

"Strangled to death by magic vines," she muttered, trying not to trip over what she couldn't see on the forest floor. Just how she'd fallen so far off the main road, she didn't know. "Devoured whole to digest in a monster's stomach for eternity," she jumped at a crack, just her own feet across branches. Onoda was used to concrete and steel, was supposed to be smart enough not to bike on unfamiliar hills. "Having your life sucked away by the fauna," she stopped and leaned against a tree, sinking down in despair. Maybe she should have taken the train. "Being eaten alive by birds," she choked out at the first sign of bird song.

As it went on, she came to a pause in her morbid thoughts.

Birds were all around - feathers sparkling like sapphire in the thin rays of light that cut through the thick forest overhead. Onoda pushed herself off the ground, the tree behind her allowing enough purchase to stand, despite the way the bark cut into his hands. If there were birds, and only if, she knew, for all the strange things that could exist in the world, maybe there was a clearing. If there was a clearing, there could be water - or fruit - or the slightest phone signal - or at the very least, enough space to throw up some spell of mayday that someone at the edge could see. If nothing else, she thought, forcing her feet over the vines that still slithered along her path with unpleasant intention, it would be nice to see the sky again.  The trees gave way to blinding sun.  It shouldn't have been so bright, but her eyes had still become so unfamiliar with light.  She went stumbling forward, sneezing as she kicked up pollen.

"Gracious."

She startled at that gentle voice, trying to find her own, to ask, the hope that she'd actually made it out making her heart leap from her chest just as she tripped, and -

"How did you get lost so deep in here?"

Her vision faded back, however slight, however slow, as the dreamy words sank into her skin. The someone had caught her - though they were only two wide eyes and dark hair edged like bluejay feathers with light shining down from above.

Onoda's mind was blank. "I don't know," she finally said, faint, distant, and honest.

Her savior nodded. "I see ..." Their eyes flashed down, remarkably bright for how the shadows set across the rest of their face, looking for something, until they set her upright again.

Now, she could see that it truly was a clearing.  No water, no house, but there were flowers, bright and plentiful and dancing to the call of a wind that did not touch her own skin. Her mouth watered, faintly, at the sight of a bush filled with berries, but it was rude to rush over to them without addressing whoever she had met.

"Did you lose your blade?" Their question made her jolt to attention.

"Why would I have a sword?" she answered, half-horrified at the query. "I mean, most people don't have swords, but even if I did, I wouldn't know what -"

They interrupted her. "So it's magic protecting you, then?"

Onoda took a deep breath to calm herself. "Well I ... actually was just planning on using my phone to call someone after I lost track of my bike."

"Really?" Their lilting voice cut through the fog in her head. "That's a strange kind of magic."

She nodded vigorously, happy to go along with anything that removed the sense of lonely fear that had taken her. Yet she had no idea what to do when it came to strangers, particularly so when neck-deep in magic she had no hope of understanding. In the space they left, she filled it with the only thing she knew to do. "I'm Sakamichi! Ono-"

"Sakamichi?" Even her interruption was taken by their interruption. "Sakamichi," again, and they went on, almost too soft to hear, "What was it again?"

"Excuse me?" The words trailed off in her mouth when they walked away. They were a striking sight - though she tried to walk over to catch their attention again, they near floated over the flowers, birds landing along their shoulders, at their hair, pulling at the fingers that lingered over their lips. The birds flitted away at her approach, but the stranger was lost in thought. "Just ... I was curious! What's your name?"

They paused as though caught on invisible strings, to stare at her with large eyes. "That's dangerous, you know." Onoda fidgeted in sheepish confusion and they lost their fixedly wide gaze as they laughed. "You don't just give away your name around here."

"O-oh."

They strolled back over to her, the white fabric of their clothes flowing in the same manner the flowers danced. "Do you want it anyway?" At that, she realized they had a face - though they'd always had a face - they should have had one, she thought, confused at her own awareness. They looked akin to a princess, from a story book, in this moment, birds floating - no, they had to be flying around them. "If you really wanted it, then I would gladly give it."

"Oh, no, no! If it's dangerous, I wouldn't want you to." She backed away. "I don't want anyone to get hurt just for the sake of my convenience!"

They tilted their head. "Is that so?" The words came out sharper than the breath before. In the moment she took to blink, they were a knight, imposing and - they were taller than her, she realized, but they'd always been taller. Perhaps there was a sword hiding somewhere within the billowing skirts, from how they spoke. "There must be something you want."

"No, not really, I just ..." Onoda laughed, too cognizant of how her voice cracked as she tried to answer, "I just need food."

"You need," repeated as hardly a whisper that hardly crossed their lips. Their eyes drifted to the same bush she'd first noticed, until they nodded, skirts falling flat and harmless. "You're welcome to, if that's what you need."

She stood in place, as there had to be more, but they half faded in the long shadows cast by the trees. It was a genuine offer, so Onoda bowed. "Thank you!" Politeness was all she had to offer them, mysterious as they were. It was her own fear that warped the forest into something more, world spinning with her wobbling steps. It was easy to mistake so much - it was understandable to be so unsure when so sure she would die. "I guess there's a lot I'd like to know, but it's really no problem," and when she said that, her laugh was more genuine. They likely needed someone here as much as she had, in the moments before. "Are you lost in here too?"

"Oh no," they answered. "Not at all. I'm exactly where I want to be."

Onoda held up a berry to the light and it sparkled like a gem. "Really? You must travel through here a lot!" The juice didn't stick to her hands or soak into her bag as she collected them. "If you would like, I could go with you for a bit. Traveling alone is kind of scary." The words were out of her mouth before she realized how selfish it could sound.

"Is it that bad?" Everything here was questions and curiosity, but none of theirs felt like it was for her. "I don't think so." Looking to their face to check - she couldn't. "I'm not going anywhere you would." She so wanted to believe they were being kind to her, regardless of oddity.

"That's amazing, then," she said, heart beating in her ears over her own embarrassment. "But I guess that fits you!" Sugar spun around her tongue and she spoke in nervous excitement, meaningless junk to fill the distance. "You look like you could be a warrior straight out an anime, or a princess who was woken up with a kiss!"

All she could hear was her own pulse - at least she was sure she was alive.

"Which would you prefer?"

The ground shifted beneath her feet - or maybe it was her own clumsiness, making her slip. Jerking back her head to look at them, they were staring with large intent eyes. She did the same, so often, excited and interested in so many people she'd had the chance to meet - but that question worried her. "What do you ..." The words died in her mouth, as she tried to find herself. Finally, she realized. "I think I should be asking you that, though."

A bird squawked. Their posture lost in genuine shock, they looked human for the first time, confusion warping their face - and she realized they were as young as her. "What?"

"I just ..." She swallowed hard, turning back fully to them, sitting in as polite a posture as she'd always practiced. "If you're not a knight or a princess for sure ... maybe you're both?" That was ridiculous to say, but she was too lost in her own thoughts for anything better. It was strange, how much she missed. "I mean, if you're neither, that's okay too." They were tall and soft-faced and young and deep within a forest and her heart wouldn't stop racing with worry. "But ... it shouldn't be me who insists you're a particular person, right?" She smiled, nervous, more foolish by the moment. "I can't explain myself very well, but I just ... you're the first friendly face I've met here!" No one should have to be out alone - not her - not anyone like her. But she couldn't say what she truly meant. "I would hate to call you someone you don't want to be." She never knew the right words, so she went with what little she had regardless, "That would be so thoughtless..." Onoda trailed off, staring at the ground. Concern burned at her fingertips and she wanted to ask why they were here - concern for someone she didn't know or understand - maybe that was rude. She shot upright. "Maybe I'm just being silly!"

Before, she'd assumed they hadn't noticed her words. She realized they had been smiling, so subtly, the entire time she had seen them - up to this moment, as they looked at her in growing discontent, the slightest frown on their face. She hadn't noticed that maybe the line had been far closer than what she was used to avoiding.

She needed to apologize.  She was so bad with words.  Her tongue felt frozen in her mouth.

Forever passed, in the silent clearing, even the flowers standing stone-still, until they opened their mouth. "You're too honest."

At that, she felt her voice return. "I-I'm so sorry, I'll leave." She jolted from the ground, but they raised a hand - and she tripped, spilling most of the berries and crushing everything that remained in her hands.

"Follow the birds," and so soft, "Take care. Sakamichi."

When she stood up again, they were gone.

The sun wasn't so bright anymore - the flowers seemed much less populous than before, when she had been blinded by light - and the berry juice that stuck to her hands made her skin burn and inflame.  But the few birds that remained waited for her as she walked - until she reached daylight, and familiar signs and streets - until she passed out.

"I met ... someone in that forest," she told everyone who asked her questions. How many times she did in a dream, she couldn't be sure, skin fluttering into feathers and eyes she couldn't make meet her own. "They were so nice but I couldn't ask their name." Sleep wore its way through her, as she tried to explain, again. "They said it's bad to give it away." She was sure - they were the reason she found her way out. But no matter how many times she asked in her dreams, she didn't know why they wouldn't leave.

Between flowers and trees and wind she watched through a distant window, eventually, she heard a clatter and bickering yowl - one she'd know anywhere - one enough to make her turn her eyes away and back into wakefulness. She blinked, and even through the blurry edges of her vision, she could see Imaizumi and Naruko hissing at each other. She looked up to where her glasses should be, instead finding cloth hanging down like a curtain from the ceiling. Her gaze drifted, slowly gathering the off-white walls, and the scent of alcohol and cotton, all muted by cool moonlight.

"Um," she started to sit up but her hands slipped - through aching pressure, she realized they were wrapped in bandages. Her quiet interjection made them both spin around as well as if she would have yelled. "What's going on?"

"You're the only one who knows the answer to that question," Imaizumi answered, followed by a sharp smack, and a much quieter grunt.

"Hey, she's the one whose been asleep, hotshot." Naruko hopped closer, toothy grin wide enough to be clear even to her. "We noticed they didn't find your glasses, so we," to which Imaizumi quietly snorted, "Decided to smuggle in a new pair for ya!"

Imaizumi walked around the other side of the bed, and leaned down to whisper, "His bright idea was the equivalent of a telescoping monocle, though."

"Hey! Don't say that to me when Mx. Perm shoved their hands into our business! It's called a compromise and that's a part of being an adult, got it? If I'd gone along with them, we woulda been stuck with those cheap star-frame lenses." Naruko swung a hand emphatically to match his whispered hiss, as Imaizumi helped Onoda with the new glasses. "Least I didn't try to ask the shop about magic shades." She looked up, nudging the frames properly onto her face, as Imaizumi froze. Naruko cackled. "Looking for something to impress a certain someone, aren'cha?"

"That has nothing to do with this," Imaizumi answered at an octave too high for the quiet room, to get two quick hushes in return. They slipped a hand over their mouth, but Onoda could still see the small twitching smile hiding there "The end of this story is that I had to be the one to buy a proper pair after Naruko's genius response," they explained. "We meant to get it before you woke up, but I can see we were too late."

"But this way we did get to be the first to," and he was so cheery, but his voice crackled with his wavering smile, "To see ya wake up for real!" He slapped a hand against her shoulder, but slowly slipped his arm around her until he'd pulled her into a tight hug. "It's real good to see you awake," he said, muffled into her gown.

Onoda froze in surprise, at the tears that began to edge at her eyes, and the ones that soaked against her shoulder. "Over-emotional fool," she heard, faintly, but Imaizumi's hand twitched just over her own, until they laced their fingers between her own. She squeezed their hand - she wrapped her other arm around Naruko.

"Was I asleep for that long?" Her tentative voice broke the silence.

The responding stillness felt as familiar as stone flowers.  Her fingers burned even within the cool bandages.  It was Imaizumi's hoarse voice that pulled her back to the hospital room. "It's been a week."

Naruko's grip around her tightened.

"Oh." That made about as much sense as the forest had. "I'm sorry." There was nothing more she could say, the memory still lingering over her. She stopped.

"Don't apologize!" Naruko was quicker that time, upright, red eyes clear despite the soft darkness of the room. "That's not your fault, got it? All that matters is that you're back, here."

Despite her best attempts, her own smile wavered. Something thumped against his head, and the two of them looked back to Imaizumi, hands crossed and forced under their arms. "I'm afraid not." They kept their stoic expression, though Onoda still saw how they chewed their lip in their pause. "She said as much. Names." She felt a cold sweat, at that. "You met someone who didn't inform you of their name. I understand that. But knowing you ..." They avoided her gaze, as she tried to meet their eyes, looking anywhere but at her as they asked, "Did you mention your name?"

"She couldn't have!" Naruko shot up and slammed his hands against the bed. "Even a kid would know that-"

They locked eyes, and he stopped short as she looked away. No words could change this. Only sheepishness stood against the despair crowding her gut.

"Onoda, you wouldn't," he said, "Because you're Onoda," and he mimed something. His hand shot up over his mouth, and again, and again, until spit came out, and he yelled, "Onoda S-!"

If there was any time to apologize, she thought, it was probably now. Now, when she'd already used the chance, now when she had lost anything that could be said, now, as her friends were realizing what a fool she was, now, where she was slumped and wishing she hadn't awoken to this - to them. It would have been better to have never spoken at all.

"Who's yelling in here?" An unfamiliar voice, and all three of them jolted to stare up at a nurse like three wild animals lost in their own shock.

It was Naruko who pulled something out of his pocket first - bright red and self-made - a crack of light filled the room to blinding intensity, one she never remembered to expect.

Yet as she waited for her vision to return, there was one whisper at her ear. "I swear we'll figure this out." Imaizumi's soft footsteps followed Naruko's cacophony as the two ran and were gone.

Darkness grew back, along with her sight, till she could see the nurse pausing at her window. He cursed before turning to Onoda. He waved, weary. "I'm supposed to be be attending to you while you're out but it seems that you're up already!" With an irritated murmur, he said, "And entertaining guests." He walked as though the roots spinning up and across the floor couldn't touch him. "Listen, you'll be out of here before you know it, no need to plot to get out." She tried to speak, mention, but the words refused to come out. "We've got great physicians, for both illness and magical problems. I get that your friends are worried, but them breaking in here to visit you is bound to cause all three of your problems. Give them a piece of my mind if they show up again, alright?"

There was so much she could say, but her voice betrayed her. All she had left was a silent nod. He accepted it gracefully and left, strange words echoing in her ears as she found herself drifting into sleep again.

People get lost in here all the time. No one leaves. Birds sang alongside rustling leaves overhead, even half-awake outside the dream they came from. I was thinking. Maybe you could.

Her anxious silence went on, as with the chill that set into her every time a doctor began to pronounce her name. Yet, every time, they would shake their heads, and go on - even when she could have sworn she saw a bird peeking out of their mouths - she couldn't tell them as much. Whether it was worse that they had glazed over it again without question, in comparison to realizing, she couldn't be sure. In that space without answers, she went from hospital to home, under close watch, watching the burns on her hands peel and fade.

The only boon of having lost her name was that even as the memory slipped away with healing and time, the space where something was meant to be - and the space where something shouldn't be - kept bringing her back. The halls of a house became mazes to lose herself in, until she was near grounded to the boundaries of her room. Without a tongue, there was something she had to make up for, with eyes and touch. Onoda didn't consider herself particularly observant, not the least to say intelligent, but the situation demanded more.

"You can't speak at all?" So she noted that Imaizumi was softer when Naruko wasn't there, floating outside her window in familiar moonlight. They went on, without her response - they didn't need it. "I read into cases like these, but most of them are so old there's little to no documentation." Their nails tapped against the sill, the soft thump of wood - or maybe it was still plastic - it changed too quickly when she glanced away. "Most internet databases insist that anything that could take a name stays far away from humans, nowadays." They snorted, a flash of contempt coloring their face. Naruko had already told them both that would be useless. "Has there been anything else?"

Onoda looked at her notebook, leaves and feathers sticking out, the remains of each time she opened to write down what she remembered of the dreams. She shook her head.

The tapping stopped. There was a look they'd give her, when she held back in nervous smiling, equal parts tired and concerned - but they didn't push. "Alright. There is something I found. They still had what you arrived at the hospital with." In front of her, they placed - burnt flowers.  She could see through the petals that remained, shimmering like water through the other side. Tantalizing murmurs floated through her head. Her fingers edged closer, reflected as a portal she could reach through, until Imaizumi put up a hand. "It's still potent." At that, it was her bag, charred into near ruin. "I had to go through Kanzaki to find it. The doctors said it had nothing to do with your lost voice, but I needed to check." When they lifted it, she caught a waft of - not smoke - earth and sweetness. A cold shake took her, too obvious to hide. "I thought so. Apparently, it was a fruit that did this. You're lucky you didn't eat any, or you would have ended up like this bag." Her nails dug into her knees. "Is that related to your name?"

I'm not going anywhere you would. She nodded. Need. It was hard to breathe. You're too honest. Vines curled around her legs.

"Curious." A breeze came, spinning around her. "Did it try to give this to you?" Imaizumi's hair remained messy and untouched. "It seems like something that couldn't be satiated at merely taking your name. It wanted your life, on top of that."

Take care.

Onoda slammed her hands down and stared at Imaizumi, as resolutely, as loudly as she could.

There was a space there.

They stared back at her, but they couldn't read her mind like people they both admired, but they still knew. They both knew, her, at the end of the day.

"You think it's more than that, then?" They were quiet. "Your first concern should be yourself."

She grabbed her notebook - tried to write, even as her words melted into the paper, until it had all turned into webbing and thin fibers along quills, and she gestured, and she knew - she knew there was so much wrong with her here, but there was more than the space where her name was not. Imaizumi looked on with growing horror - and here, she realized, of course, they hadn't known just how bad this had become - but she'd lost the words to show it - or maybe that was the only way she knew to express it, right now.

"I don't ..." They lost their own words - they were young, too. All of them were. Onoda wrapped her arms around them, until they weakly lifted their hands to her back and whispered, "I don't know what to do." They had their grip on the words, at least - even if they couldn't change the situation, as long as they had some way to communicate -

That was all she'd needed.

Onoda pulled back, hopping as she grabbed Imaizumi's hands, as they stared in as much confusion as before - and she pointed - out the window, down the long slope of her house, far out. They followed her gesture, from there, to her bag, and their hair seemed to rise in shock.

"You can't mean you intend to return? To that forest?" Their voice was edged with shards of anger and fear, the tight manner they spoke fraying at the edges. "You almost died. I doubt anything there will allow you out again."

She shook her head and grinned as wide as she could manage, bright and hopeful and sure. Naruko would fight her within an inch of his life to stop her from going - at least, not alone, but no one could go in with her. It was a space she'd been in - a space she had lost - one that was her right, however thinly.  She could decide that.  She chose to decide that.

Imaizumi, though - "You understand the dangers?" They were so aware of terrible potentials and pain, enough that they had been frozen still in fear. They had been a lost child once, themself. "If so," and yet, "I'm sure nothing I can do would stop you." There was no one as sure of her schemes as they were. "You'll be prepared this time, at least, with my help." They gave her a rare smile.

Making friends created so many more gaps in her devotion. Perhaps that was why it was possible for her to find herself falling down strange paths now. Yet, the more hands she knew were waiting for her, the more the confidence of returning burned in her chest. She opened her cell phone and dialed a number, before handing it to them - they froze.

"No," they said, but the phone was already ringing, and she could hear Naruko's excited shout of her name through the speaker from that distance - laughter evident in her steps as Imaizumi turned away to deal with the fallout of his disappointment at the caller.

Onoda knew she wasn't a brave person, but she had her strengths - evident in two people who she trusted above all else. They both had the right to know. They both had the right to help. No matter how slight a hand either of them could offer, it meant the world to have anything at all.

Chiba wasn't a magical center like Tokyo had grown into over the years, so it was still a simple matter for the trio to bike out of the peninsula and towards the greater divide. Onoda barely remembered the day she'd been lost, now - in the back of her mind, she knew there was a good reason her mother warned her to always take the trains. Being lost was no simple matter, but she didn't get lost. She had one goal, every time she went out, and the roads didn't betray her devotion - usually.

The road to Akihabara was lined with rails and cars, street lamps that flickered blue with magic in the day time, accompanied by song and rhythm. Here, fireflies flickered up, betraying the sense of any ground in the night. Even if she could have sung, there was no music to fit that she could have made. The path to this forest was one-way.

"Do you remember the route?" Imaizumi biked next to her, gray concrete rising up beneath their tires.

"That's not how it works!" Her bike bounced down into road and back up again at Naruko's voice. "She's got a place to get. All we've got is that we wanna stick with her." His jersey burned brighter under the stars, on this route. "Onoda can get anywhere she wants," as much of a compliment as he could give, making her face burn, "But me an' you? Well, nothing could trick me off her trail, but you've got a real challenge, don't ya, hotshot?"

"I doubt it's so simple as that. Even magic has its loopholes."  Their voice was back to chilled assuredness, but their shoulder pressed against hers warmly.  "However, in this case, I can say the only thing you need to be concerned for is yourself, Naruko."

What was once Kanagawa hadn't been so fortunate - though Onoda wasn't sure of the history behind it. Most of the theory Imaizumi spouted flew over her head, and Naruko's lengthy tales were entertaining, but made much less sense than even the most thinly taped together fantasy anime. He too often forgot the story he was on, skipping from place to place, always landing back on Osaka. That was its own part of all the magic around it.

But that was supposedly along the border of where she had been found, no matter how impossible it should have been for her to bike there at the speed she had, much less now - as strange fauna began to block out high-rising moonlight. Stars choked the sky until they had to sparkle along the ground to have any space to be, and she realized she wasn't sure where the path had gone.

"Onoda," crackling at her ear, that was Naruko's whisper, "I think you're gonna be there soon."

She clung to her bike, even stepping off, uneven ground more precarious under cycling shoes. That was dew, on the ground, not stars, she thought, again, though it was the darkness ahead that drew her eye. There weren't any birds at this hour. There wasn't anything, but her heart beating slower and slower, until gravel popping along the ground made her swing back.

"Why did you," Imaizumi panted, paused, scrubbed the back of his hand at his nose, "How did you race off so quickly."

Naruko laughed, or he moved his mouth to, space around drowning it out. "You never seen that before? Pretty amazing, isn't it!" His hand slapped down over Onoda's, phasing through to her BMC's handles, under her palm now. "Can't say I've ever seen anyone flicker through that fast though." He didn't point out the hands, yet his brow crinkled - the sharp cut of his grin setting shadows over his eyes. "We're gonna have to wait here. Hopefully that's close enough to get the place to lose its grip, once you get whatever you're lookin' for."

Whatever that is, in how he grit his teeth, are you sure you have to go, in how he tried to squeeze her hand, and she hoped, as well, even though he couldn't hold her. Not unless she took his hand.

Onoda let go of her bike.

"You'd better get your name back, Onoda!" A single step and she was already bounding over the ground, moths tickling her skin as she raced past, the distance much shorter when she moved, "I really miss it," whispers she wasn't sure were spoken, already gone before she had a chance to wonder.

Whatever the forest may have been, whatever it led people away from, whatever it may have protected, it was a different place in the night. Her memory wavered over her eyes, and with beckoning daylight absolutely out of her reach, it was a much more terrifying place to be. At night, though - she couldn't see anything, but nothing could see her, either. The trees curled out of her way, and she brushed her hand over the bark as she walked on, quiet thanks left in the indents of age-old magic. She didn't understand it, but she did have manners and sense enough to know that anything deserves a bit of gratitude.

"I guess I couldn't do anything."

She picked up the pace, tripping over her own feet - except for the branch she swung into mid-fall. Breath left her, but she was up again, hardly a scratch to what was left of her name, feet carried on air and the frozen muted sound that surrounded her as moss.

"The forest gets what it wants."

A cul-de-sac here, trees twisted into knots and arrows that echoed behind her eyes like desperate voices, to turn, this wasn't quite right, but almost. She could get to where she was going, so Onoda scraped her feet against the ground and listened, one of the only real talents she had. The vines around her tangled and grabbed her arms, and she looked up, to a flash of white that was already gone. Her cleats slid down the tree at first, in bright gold wounds, but the foliage kept pulling, until she could leverage herself against a branch, look to where that had gone, because if her goal wouldn't stop running, she could never reach it.

"So it goes."

When Onoda fell out of the tree, she was in a brook, weathered stones below cushioning her fall, until she could stand up on them as firm ground again. She was used to scratches, slamming into the ground off her bike, getting back up and going every time, but it had never been as easy as this. Feet skipping over water, she was running downstream, following flashing lights that flickered from the river to reflect off boughs overhead. Every path led somewhere.

That voice didn't sound again, though she strained her ears to listen, as much as the forest itself did to let her, but they were somewhere. They weren't trying to get anywhere, but the trees thickened till any gap was hardly a finger's width across, till she was sidestepping down a hall, the smallest twigs slashing across her cheeks, leaving scratches behind on the new lenses, till there was something like light at the end of a path and her heart slammed hard enough in her chest to make her forget her aching legs, till she reached the end, and found herself sliding down a steep slope. Onoda slapped her hands up to her glasses, struggling to keep them from flying off. If she'd had a voice, it would have been a struggle not to scream, but the only sound the entire way down was the rush of water, impatient and desperate to reach the end in time.

She saw them first. Before she saw the end of the route, dropping her glasses into what she'd assumed was solid ground only moments before crashing through the surface of disturbingly still water. Onoda struggled to tread water, indecision splitting through her head, unable to pick between her glasses or land first, or to pretend she wasn't there at all, because they'd be running again, because she'd failed in the chance the forest had given her.

But there was a splash, as she sank, stars billowing down through the water faster than her, until she realized she was floating up, and broke the surface again. Onoda's fingers dug into grass, sinking into mud, out, and she was rolling down the bank. She came to a stop, even if her head didn't. Between coughs, she felt as though water had even mixed with her blood, but every other breath was the attempt to laugh, with the last dredges of adrenaline and relief. Grass and flowers wavered around her arms, comforting. With open eyes, she found it was a clearing, sky stretching out above her. Beautiful smudges of stars decorated it. For what she could make out, there wasn't a single configuration she recognized.

"There's no moon here," so very quiet in her ears.

Given more energy - given a more normal place - Onoda would have shot up in surprise. As she was, she could hardly tilt her head far enough to look back to the pond, and the person who stood before it. They stared up as well, face out of sight, and she looked down to where she could see their hands, twisting a pair of glasses between their fingers - shaking? With her vision, she couldn't be sure.

"It's very pretty," they murmured, and she pushed herself off the ground, sneezing at the pollen that floated up with her. She'd forgotten that was possible, before. Life in the forest only existed at its own convenience. When her eyes opened again, they were looking at her - or around her. "But some people get disappointed about that."

Onoda opened her mouth, approval on her lips, reassurance in her eyes, yet still no sound. Her shoulders slumped, huffing in defeat.

"Hahah," as though laughter was a word to be spoken. They stared down at her glasses, but she couldn't tell much more without. Every movement they made was air, the only details or proof they were there in light-flecked dust that melted invisible into star shine with vision like this. "You're interesting, aren't you? I'm not sure I've met anyone who responded like that before."

Maybe she hadn't ruined the chance she'd been given - though she would have tried again and again until she got one right, in the first place. They didn't move, so she took the first step - and they stepped back, foot splashing into the pool matching her own responding pause.

"I suppose you want these," they said, every word more to themself than her. "All of this."

Grass between her toes as she walked, though she'd had shoes at some point, they matched her steps, smaller and smaller. They went on with their head tilted down, every step closer to them like wading through water. Onoda stopped, hip deep, in the middle of a mirror of stars. She held out a hand, but she couldn't find theirs - so she pressed her other hand against her neck, at the bridge of her nose. They didn't give her anything but frames pressed into her palm with uneasy care.

There was a crack. Onoda remembered, these were new - standing there, time frozen with someone who wouldn't look at her, there were reasons to leave. She had to apologize to someone, and she needed a voice to do that, staring at her stranger as the fissure floated across her vision. Between lenses, there were two people ghosting over one another, in front of her. One whose fabric spanned across the pond, blanking out the stars with inky darkness. Another who stood drenched, much smaller with water dripping from their hair, down their face. Without light to blind her, without birds to distract her, with only the cool flickering currents reflecting over skin, their previously luminous eyes were a mess of broken vessels and muddy yellow.

Normally, Onoda would be too self-aware to look so close. Staring at strangers, she'd flash into embarrassment, too focused on her own behavior to notice - but with the slow realization that she'd walked over the pond just to close the gap, it was a little hard to care about herself, here. Water seeping up through her legs into her chest, her head was far out of reach, floating away in curiosity and concern. They were shivering or - fidgeting?

"People always like it at first, but that never lasts." She stood firm, staring at them, fighting herself as much as she could. "It was a waste," they said, tapping fingers over the surface of the water, not a ripple responding to them. "To come back."

She mouthed her own words.

"Maybe," they weren't looking at her, there wasn't a sound to hear, but they still responded. "Though I didn't let you go. I was giving you a chance." The water's light seemed to spread and flicker farther, surface unmoving. "That kind of thing won't come around again."

She had so much to ask, but it wasn't what she came for.

"A request." Their words didn't come as a question - nothing about them came as asking for anything from her. "I think it would be hard to ask for anything in a situation like yours."

If that was the case, it didn't make sense that they could answer her simplest thoughts.

"There's a difference," and she shouldn't have been able to hear that, "It's not a matter of voice." As frozen the air stood, Onoda couldn't stand there waiting. "You could. If you wanted." Tracking their gaze was difficult, when what they said wasn't enough. "You can't escape, after all."

Leaving wasn't something that stuck in her memory, but the forest yawned open and around them, there was another path, glimmering warmer to draw her in. There was a way out - there had to be a way out of anywhere. There were a hundred, a thousand stories, about just that, and she had faith enough in those to power a city and anchor her to any safe haven. It was simple, to her, to walk step by step along the earth until she was where she'd been asked to go.

"You think so?" A flash of danger, in one lens, colder than water. The light below seemed to respond to how they smiled, blue shapes flickering along till she could see the pained slant of their eyes, even in shadow. "You're here because the forest wanted you to return," a breath, "Saka-," and they closed their mouth, "It always gets what it wants."

There was a chance waiting, and she put out a hand to reach them, she thought - there was nothing there, and her hand was right where it had always been.

"There doesn't need to be a reason why." They didn't answer the other question that matched that, because it wasn't only the forest here - there was another will behind this, but they skimmed over themself and her interest, and said, "People get trapped in here all the time. It's only natural."

Dreams again, but they spoke as though that was new and absolutely true. But she didn't feel trapped. The forest didn't bring her here to throw her away - there were any of a hundred chances to kill her or trick her down into darkness, not to bring her in front of another something, not another person. It had helped her, toward everything she was chasing, and only one thing had rejected that. Her hands shook, rising through the water, too much noise for a single motion. It was important to be polite, not to cause waves, not to push people into anything they didn't want to do. Terrifying as it was, she moved to point, the need to know barely weighing out her own reservations.

The water wasn't reflections along their skin, not as much as another window through, not as much as their skin wearing thin until she could see the currents beneath. "What do you," and their voice muted until they sorted themself, to a voice she remembered, familiar words. "I'm exactly where I," they had said this before.  They stopped.

"Where you want to be," didn't sound like her voice - but that came from her, borrowed echo as it was. They'd already answered before, in their own way, in a way she didn't understand, using words that betrayed and opposed any truth. Maybe it was like ink turning to web at her fingers. The strangest thing, when locked away in magic, was for the answer to be so simple.

Something shifted.  It didn't look like they moved, but their eyes were on her.  Silence responded, till they shut their mouth, both of them uncomfortably aware that she was standing right there.  No one could go without speaking forever.

The voice she remembered from them had been - gentle, lyrical, sharp.  Now, it was hoarse. "Right." She jolted up. Splashing overwhelmed their voice, and it took so many more steps, deeper and deeper, until she was pushing through thick fabric rather than water. "Right, Sakamichi."

Her name came along with breathing, and Onoda gasped for a moment, shocked at how unfamiliar the working of her lungs went, the way her teeth chattered so loudly in her head, the absolute constant noise that went on inside, but she did know, always, one thing. "Thank," a cough, and their hand was in hers, loose as their fingers held, "Thank you! I-I had so much I wanted to say, but -"

"Of course," they said, short, their hand already slipped out of hers. Her train of thought was lost by the time they went on, "No need for gratitude."

"I really do want to ... it's okay, I understand!" She pulled her hands up together, rather than continuing to put one out to them, again. She couldn't force them to accept anything and she wouldn't. "It's stressful having to accept so much from a stranger, sometimes people thank me when I hold open the door and I don't know what to say to them to, um," she clamped her mouth shut. A fool as ever, "I'm sorry, now I'm saying a bunch of useless things," that, or perhaps absurd, too normal for how magic clung to her skin with desperate demand, "I wanted to actually ask you something!"

"There's not much to ask. You have your name. ...Apparently the forest will let you out. You have everything you need." That came with a smile, but they tilted their head away, drifting, and she could still lose here, even when she'd convinced them to acknowledge her. "I can't say no to a query, though."

She could ask why, but that formality came with a darker chill. "You're right!" For all within of words that she overlooked from others, "I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner," maybe they missed as much as her, "You've answered so much, I don't think I could think of another question." The lake vibrated around her, tensing at her attempt to laugh, warning her. Maybe they'd see through the lie, just as much as the concern that so often made her lose her voice, and her words came out in a yelp. "But there's something I wanted to ask for!"

The water edged back down her skin, calming itself as much as her. In how it drew away, her blood felt like her own again, burning at her ears as she waited for them to actually hear what she said, wait for them to look at her. It was supposed to be the most terrifying thing in the world, she remembered, for how much she built it to be, but it wasn't. "What do you need?" they asked.

"N-nothing, actually." Any old story would remind her that she should have learned her lesson before. There was nothing she should accept from someone like this. "I just wanted something, from you." She wasn't supposed to be so selfish as to want anything from others at all. But she grew up attached to fantastical dreams and cartoons her peers had long passed off as childish and silly, because everyone knew how dangerous magic was - everyone just knew, when she didn't understand at all. But she did know to do one thing, when it came to people, "Would it be alright if I asked for your name?"

They stared.

"I know it's dangerous ... you told me." She'd thought over a million times how foolish it was to so easily give them her own, but they had said it with such care before - so cautious - so curious. "It's selfish of me to ask for that when I know that, but I," and it was hard to breathe, even with how sand pulsed under her feet in excited encouragement, "I can't do anything for you unless I know more about you." She would never be smart enough to read between all the lines. Oblivious and foolish and so often wrong, closing her mouth rather than asking when she didn't have a clue, there was a point at which she couldn't keep avoiding asking others for more.

They stared.

"Please?" Maybe the words didn't come out at all. But if there was a reason at the other side, if she could help through having spoken at all, she didn't want to cling to that silence any longer. So louder, "Please!" With a deep breath, Onoda jut out her chest, even with the embarrassed flush that spread across her face, and said, "Hello! My name is Onoda Sakamichi! My parents named me after the slope's path," though she still began to lose her voice and posture, as she went on, "Because they thought it ... would make me strong, too."

And they stared. "Oh," echoed more through mud, more as the soft drip of water from their clothes ripping the water like their hands wouldn't, "I see. Slopes." They dragged themself out of the water and she struggled to keep up, trying to listen, "Of course. That's why," they did have longer legs, even with how fabric weighed them down. They were talking to themself here, too sure for her to hang onto, and she tripped over the bank as the two of them hit the shore, falling over herself into a heap. They were going to get away again, now, and she readjusted her glasses in a panicked frenzy, until the muddy hem of a dress floated over her arm. "I don't want your name."

It was difficult to find their face again, sky and trees and dark blue above all spinning together into the same form, so she clung to their skirts, what little she could do in her own confusion, her own loss. "But you accepted it before," as a response, like a child, trying to hang onto every question burning in her hands.

"I never wanted anything," just another rejection.

"You helped me," she said, so quiet, and that to her said they did want something. She knew every answer to every question she could ask here, "You could have let me die, and," it hurt to admit, "You almost did. But you didn't!" She pulled herself upright, not by their skirts, but on her own strength. She didn't understand that, not completely, but they stopped her before it was too late. "I think that ... if you hadn't led me out, I would have died, anyway."

"Who knows," they murmured. "You would know better than me, now." They sunk down beside her at that, what little warmth had returned setting to ice. "The forest doesn't let people leave."  It wasn't supposed to, they said, without needing to tell her.

"I remember!" Their disbelieving tilt reminded her that had been something of a dream, just another thing she'd made up, but it had sounded like them. "Um, people get lost in here all the time ... no one leaves," she took a breath to match their dawning realization, "And I thought you said ... you thought maybe I could. And I did!" Ignoring the magic that followed her out, "K-kind of."

That earned her a slight laugh, until they put a hand over their mouth, looking at her from behind that mask. "So, not at all."

"I can leave again! I know it!" She popped forward, glasses jostling along her nose, "And you can come with me!"

"No," muffled behind tightening fingers.

"The forest helped me find you. I think it wants you to come, too!" The crack in the lenses kept getting worse and she needed to apologize - she remembered Naruko, Imaizumi, both there on the outside, clung their names as tight as she could - as safely as she held her own between herself and her stranger, here. "I can help you if -"

"No," they interrupted, hand coming down for a thin-lipped smile. "You said as much before."

Where they wanted to be, their voice still raw in her throat, but, "You said you didn't want anything." Their smile widened, shaking, shaking eyes, they shook their head. It was rude to assume, but she went on, "I'm sorry, but it doesn't seem like you ... enjoy being here, that much ... I can't make you accept anything from me. I don't want you to. I never have ..."

"Is that why you ..." There was a curious tone, but they stopped, and rephrased, "That's why you asked what I was."

She nodded. "I was worried. And ... I still am. You seem really young, like me." She trailed off, knowing exactly what she meant, but they wouldn't. She couldn't be sure they knew, unless she said, "Really alone, like me." Onoda closed her eyes. "I thought you needed someone like I did." So much of this happened because she was weak, projecting weakness, but maybe it wasn't so bad. Being wrong was better than overlooking the truth.

"You're too," a pause and a clack of teeth together, "There's no point in repeating myself."

"It's okay!" She didn't want to open her eyes just yet, there had to be something better to open them to, if she went on like this. "I don't mind, I'm really forgetful. Please!" Though she knew exactly what they meant, here. She was too honest. People never stopped reminding her.

They didn't say it again. Instead, "Sakamichi reminds me of something." So she opened her eyes, to see them matching how she sat, careful and formal, hands pressed to their knees, staring down instead. "So I did what I did." There was redness edging around their fingertips, not just the strange colorless tone their skin took to match the night. "And then I ran. I thought that the forest was finally going to ... let me go." Their voice dropped so low and she leaned close to hear. "One way or another." No one could leave alive.  She almost lost her balance, leaning to where she could see their face, and how they stared at their hands as if willing them to burst into flame. "Are you," one shaking hand lifted like a claw, "You are," hovering over her own, "You're real." As flat as it sounded, they didn't sound sure.

Onoda took their hand, biting her tongue when they flinched, and dropped their shoulders. "I'm quite real!" She took care not to squeeze as she wrapped her fingers around theirs.  They had never been a phantom here just to trap her, kill her. "Just like you."

They could have refused her again, but maybe the time for that had run out. The silence that fell with her words was less intimidating than anything before. Two people, sitting in grass, crickets bouncing around her legs, watching their face twitch at moths that batted against their skin. It was the furthest thing from magic, yet the closest she'd ever managed on her own.

"Sakamichi and Sangaku." The silence clung around them, unbreakable, fitting to their words with a comforting ease.

"Hm?" She hardly noticed her own voice.

"Another question?" She startled, apologies already falling from her mouth, but they smiled till their face flushed, laughter filling the air around them. "It's okay. ...Your name reminded me, back then." There was a wheeze behind how they laughed, as though they wanted to shatter the quiet, almost masking the tears rolling down their face. "I have one, too."