/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>45557644 (1/2)
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Holding Patchy in my arms, I turn towards the voice—

—and gasp. We were still in the HSE, but… different. The ground was cracked everywhere, consuming Yuuka’s garden; powerful blue light exuding as if a star had bitten the earth; tiny animals such as butterflies and ants—spectral—flooding to those cracks, feeding from the light. The sky was of a thousand stars, a full moon of red akin to Remilia's wounding the veil of glinting black. However, when compared to the monumental Sakura tree—sprouting from the floor right where the pond of the Fake Shrine found itself, its multitude of leaves flickering with supernatural wind, what looked like faint images squirming inside—, it was nothing.

All cracks converged on the tree, roots made of starlight disappearing inside them.

Sat on the lustrous roots of blue and mere six feet away from the broken white sigil, was a little girl: Clothes of humble origins, skin fair, her eyes at us. Yet her face—that nose bridge; those big, sharp eyes and dimples on each rosy cheek…

It was like looking in a mirror and seeing a younger mineself. A blurred mirror, yet it nevertheless.

"… You are the person I felt." Patchy managed to whisper, grimacing, her whole body feeling tense despite the silky clothes.

"Yes, Mother…those books you wrote… Thanks for them! They clarified a lot of my doubts!" She gave Patchy a toothy smile, though the magician narrowed her eyes, leaving my arms without even looking at me.

"You read them…?"

"All of them~you should stop using too many '—'. It hurts the eyes!" She pouts, getting up.

"But it's been only an m-minute! Were you reading while I wrote them?! And why do you call me 'Mother'?" She stepped closer, trembling with a scholar's lust for knowledge. I followed behind, feeling out of my depth— "You look disturbingly like me…"

I froze. What…?

"I got them through that rite, and with my mum's power to control time, I read them—helps too I can separate into three," she shows three fingers, standing right in front of us. The similarities were even more noticeable, though when I tried to feel her Ki, I got nothing. It was if I was talking to a cadaver. "Other selves, thanks to mum Flandre."

"Time control…? Flandre?" Patchy was wide-eyed, her face twisting into pained thoughtful expressions.

"Sakuya, my mum that can control time. We're in about a year equals a second now… But we don't have much time." She looks hurt.

"I-I… That tree, the amount of concentrated magic… It's like staring at a… a—" I rapidly move, eyes wide, and catch Patchy as she suddenly passes out, the overwhelming amount of information exhausting her worn-out mind.

Alone for a few seconds, cautionary, I stare at the simple-looking girl, who, smiling sweetly, waves at me, my throat drying. "How can she be your mother…? What even are you? This place?" The girl hums, eyes on Patchy—she claps her hands, and the magician starts to wake up, confused at her surroundings, before locking on the girl again, mumbling, 'not a dream…'

"You are also my mother, Meiling. Everyone who steps in this place is my mother—but I only have one number 1 mother, sorry!" She joins her hands and bows respectfully for a moment. "This place is a cursed womb… And what am I? I'm that!" She points at the tree, looking at us, expecting approval—we just keep staring. Pouting, she points at the roots. "The faith and belief that I eat," she moves to the trunk of the tree. "My True Mother and father—"

"Anon…?" I whisper.

"—yep, him!" She giggles, then points at the lucent branches. "And those are my other mothers, like you two—all come together, resulting in me!" She laughs, a kid in heart.

"—a condensed world,” Patchy whispers, turning to me. “Meiling… When I passed out, I was looking at the tree's magical signature… Remilia's powers, Sakuya's, mine, yours, Flandre's… It’s all implanted in that tree." My spine chills, twisted understanding starting to settle.

This place, her…

She stops laughing, her back to us.

"… Isn't it most beautiful? My birth." Her voice has lost its childish comfort. It sounds sharp, and I cannot even fathom what face she's making. "Heavenly blue, warm, pretty…" She walks up to the tree and, gently, touches its bark. "Yet my parents cannot see it yet. The universe has robbed me of my birthright to be in their lives—to save their souls, heal them, and to be infinitely loved as I do love them."

She turns to us.

Rage. A thousand faces of rage.

"But I'll change that future." Her voice is meant for us. "This universe wrote me as to never have a family. To be an aftermath, not a blessing… I don't want that, Mother. I do not. I want to be with my family, to know my father, to play with my sisters, to be fondly hugged by my True Mother!" She opens her arms, relief beyond the pure rage, as if listened to for the first time. "So I'll overwrite this sickening story, help all of my family! I'll make them happy! Please, despite my birth… Love me, Mothers, I beg of you!"