Shinrabansho: Myriad Souls

“Reiko-chan… I missed you.”

Aoi’s eyes widened, and she broke.

The sound that tore out of her didn’t feel new. It felt old, like something she’d been carrying for years without ever letting herself release it. She folded into me, her forehead pressing hard against mine, her shoulders shaking.

“Don’t say it like that,” she whispered, even as her hands clutched at me with desperate force, her fingers digging into my yukata as if she was afraid I might vanish halfway through the word.

I cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing over the wet tracks of her tears. Then I leaned in and kissed her, urgent and tender all at once, as if I could make the world hold still through sheer insistence.

Above us, the battle resumed in the sky. Mirror-light clashed with corrupted shadow. Foxfire arced between them like a third, burning star. Fireworks continued exploding in the air regardless of the time, bright, oblivious bursts of color blooming beneath gods and monsters alike.

And there I stood, trembling, holding my wife, knowing the dream was ending because I was being asked to choose.

We clung to each other, kissing and holding on through our tears.

“I never thought I would see you again, Reiko-chan,” I said hoarsely.

“Nor did I,” she answered. “But I was always with you, Susu. Every step of your journey since we defeated Mitsuhiko.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But I don’t want to let you go.”

“You must. We have no choice,” her voice was gentle and it didn’t waver. “Don’t you love Riko too… especially the small girl inside her as much as you love me?”

I turned my head, looking toward Riko and Yuna. They stood apart, caught in something like a waking trance, their expressions distant, as though their minds were aligning themselves, each making their own quiet reckoning with who they were.

“Riko doesn’t like what she sees in her mirror,” Aoi said softly. “She’s finally closer to what she always wanted to be because of this dream. More like her sister. That was denied to her by chance. By genetics. With a body that small, she overcompensated. She pushed herself into sports. She became strong, in her own way. But because of how she looks, she was always overlooked. Again and again.”

“Did she tell you all that?” I asked quietly.

Aoi let out a weak, humorless breath. “Did you think you could sleep with a woman without learning things about her?”

“No…” I wiped my eyes with the back of my yukata’s sleeve. “I’ve learned more about you these months than I ever thought I would. More than I knew growing up with you.”

“No,” she said firmly. “You always knew me better than anyone else, Susumu.”

Her gaze held mine, steady and unflinching.

“And you knew me better than anyone else too,” I said. “I was never worth all that much. Even when I fought, there was always something broken inside me. Something that ruined everything I reached for.”

“You were never worthless.” Reiko seized my face and forced me to look at her. Her expression was fierce, aching. “You were my cherished childhood friend. You still are. But you became more than that. My lover. My wife. When you confessed to me that day… I was terrified of how close I was to accepting you.”

She swallowed.

“I panicked. I got angry. Because I knew it wouldn’t end well. You had the wrong body. But your heart. Your soul. They were so beautiful. Just for that, I wanted to hold you. To kiss you.” Her voice cracked. “But instead…”

“You pushed me away,” I said softly, smiling through tears. “As hard as you could.” I gave a weak giggle.

“Yes.” She nodded. “It was the only thing I could do. I had to put distance between us somehow. I tried to forget how I felt about you. I never could. Every relationship after that was completely overshadowed by my feelings for you. Even Rui.”

I nodded slowly. “I remember what you told me back then. Now I understand that you were talking about us.”

“I wanted to be sure you understood,” she said. “I didn’t know if we would get a chance to speak like this with your memories intact, Susu. The dream might have ended without you ever knowing who I was.”

I took her hands and laced my fingers through hers, pulling her closer. “I would have known and cried. First for the first woman I loved deeply enough to go beyond infatuation with. My Aoi-chan. My wife. I would have wondered where you came from and why you felt so perfect and familiar. That violent streak in you is hard to miss.” I smiled faintly.

“I don’t know if I should be flattered that you’d remember me more for how I punch and crush phones than how I kiss,” Aoi said, her mouth twisting.

“I already knew how much you loved me,” I said. “I saw so many of your memories of us. You kept the best ones. Not many of the worst. That alone was proof. But I noticed I couldn’t see all of them.”

“I had to keep some things from you,” she said. “I couldn’t let you see everything that makes me who I am.”

“So you left me with the memories of sleeping with Mitsuhiko?” I said flatly, my expression becoming haunted. “You could have kept those memories to yourself.”

A beat passed between us.

“…Yes,” she said, deadpan. “Suffer with me.”

“And the memories of killing people. Stealing their faces.”

This time she didn’t joke. She nodded.

“Now you understand. I killed so many. Now you remember my sins. I accepted your love despite them… but I can’t accept—”

She tried to pull away.

I didn’t let her.

I yanked her back and kissed her, hard enough to steal the rest of her words from her. No explanation was needed. I didn’t condone what she had done, but that wasn’t the point.

When we finally broke apart, I rested my forehead against hers, nuzzling, and spoke the only words that mattered.

“You are my wife, Reiko. Just like I always dreamed of. Sharing an apartment with you. This last week was a dream come true. All of it. That’s what matters. You gave me a precious gift.” I sniffled.

She let out a small, broken giggle and wiped at her eyes.

“Don’t think this is all about you,” she said softly. “Didn’t it occur to you that I wanted this too? That I still do? Oh, kami.”

I nodded, my throat too tight to answer properly.

“You are my wife forever,” Reiko said, her voice steady despite the tears clinging to her lashes. “We are wed in our spirits. Literally. No ceremony could bind us more tightly than that.” She hesitated. “Can I ask you something, Susu?”

I nodded seriously. “Anything.”

“Are you the girl who grew up here, Sumire Shinohara? Are you Sumire Shinohara, the one Rui adopted? Are you Susumu?” Aoi asked softly. “Is the girl I fell so hard for still in there?”

I thought about it.

I moved through the memories slowly, carefully. I had a sense that I was all three at once.

Sumire, the figment who had become so important to us both. Her love of ribbons. Her dreams of becoming an idol. The first time she realized she was attracted to girls, with that steamy kiss on the school rooftop.

I remembered our trip to Shirasuna. Sharing futons. I remembered our date and how beautiful it had been, how it ended with us consummating our love in the karaoke room. I remembered when she pulled away from me and shattered me in a way I had no comparison for. The grueling three weeks of training under cold eyes, starved of affection.

I remembered the night Aoi climbed the wall outside my bedroom window while I was reading manga. How we patched things up. Sharing cookies and tea. Ending up in her lap. Kissing and making up for lost time.

And then I remembered the last week. Becoming Aoi’s wife through my own choices and resolve. Cooking cream stew for us. The first time I ever made love to someone while truly in control. And then losing control anyway, because I wanted to.

“Yes,” I said, smiling softly. “I will never forget her. She’s an important part of who I am now. She showed me how life can be if I embrace that part of myself.”

“I’m glad,” Aoi said quietly. “I’ll never forget her either.”

She kissed me this time, deeply and passionately.

At that moment, Yuna finally stirred.

She stepped away from her mirror as if stepping out from deep water, her expression soft and sorrowful, her lips trembling with a fragile smile. The mirror behind her fractured with a sharp, crystalline sound and collapsed into shards of light.

She looked at us for a long moment.

“Aoi-chan,” Yuna said quietly, “would you mind if I borrowed your wife for a moment?”

Aoi hesitated only briefly before nodding, stepping aside with her hands folded behind her back.

“She is yours too,” Aoi said. “I can’t hog her, especially when I won’t be alive much longer… so to speak.”

Yuna swallowed and nodded, her eyes shining. She turned to me and reached out, taking my hands just as I had taken Aoi’s earlier.

“Do you mind, Sumire-chan?”

I froze for a heartbeat, then shook my head.

This was Yuna… Ume.

Memories surfaced unbidden, the morning after Halloween, waking at Ume’s side. Her chest was pressed against my back, her arms wrapped around me with a quiet possessiveness she would never openly admit to. The way she’d changed out of my shirt, baring her body to me slowly after waking, teasing without ever acknowledging it openly, her small movements were intimate in their display of trust. The way she’d worn an apron for me, stepping into Reiko’s place without being asked, as if her intuition had known exactly what I needed.

Strange as she could be, she had stayed with me ever since I reclaimed my humanity, after my Cinderella deadline had passed. The irony of that still lingered… how I’d ended up the princess in the end.

“I love you, Sumire-chan,” Yuna said. “I’m speaking as Yuna right now, so please listen. These are a dying girl’s wishes.”

I winced.

I had only been thinking about Reiko, about Aoi, about losing her again. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about what it meant for Yuna, or Riko, or the others.

She closed her eyes.

“I had the courage to stand on stage,” she continued, “but I never had the courage to tell you how I felt outright. I tried to get your attention in subtle ways. Probably too subtle. I kept telling myself I would have some piece of you myself someday… but I knew…”

“You’re really dying?” I asked softly. “Won’t you become a part of Ume?”

“Yes,” she said. “But I am not entirely Ume. I have my own dreams. I wanted to be a doctor. And I wanted to spend my life with you, however I could.”

“I see…” My voice wavered. Tears blurred my vision as my fingers trembled in hers.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Yuna flinched.

Then I was suddenly pushed from behind.

My face pressed against hers, our lips brushing in startled contact, and before I could react, Yuna seized my mouth with hers, fierce and desperate. I didn’t pull away. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly as the kiss deepened, full of everything she hadn’t said in time.

For a moment, there was nothing else, no gods fighting the sky above us, no dream ending, just the weight of her hands and the truth of my feelings for her that she was finally allowed to claim.

As I kissed Yuna, a strange resistance tugged at me, as if something unseen was slowly pulling her away from me even while she leaned ever closer, pressing herself against me. Her weight shifted in my arms, getting lighter and thinning. I opened my eyes just in time to see it happening.

The moment when Yuna’s face broke apart into tears of light.

“I love you, Sumire.”

They streamed upward and outward, dissolving into shimmering fragments, and where she had been, Ume emerged, her arms still wrapped around me, holding me tightly as the last of Yuna’s form dispersed into drifting dream motes.

My chest seized, and a sob tore free before I could stop it. I clutched Ume to me desperately, my body shaking as the reality of what I’d just lost finally landed.

Ume’s eyes fluttered open. She pulled back just enough to look at me, breaking the kiss gently, her expression soft and unbearably sad. I hugged her tighter, pressing my face into her shoulder.

“Don’t forget her,” I cried. “Please… I won’t. I swear I won’t.”

“Yes,” Ume said, her voice trembling. “I won’t either.”

There was no time to recover.

Riko’s mirror shattered without warning.

The sound was sharp and final. Riko dropped to her knees as the fragments scattered across the ground, reaching for them with shaking hands as though she could somehow gather what had been lost. Tears streamed down her face as she wailed, raw and unguarded.

The shards faded even as she touched them, dissolving into pale dreamstuff that slipped through her fingers like mist.

Ume turned toward Riko, her expression shifting instantly—concern, urgency, and protective. She loosened her hold on me and gently pushed me at Riko.

“Go to her,” Ume said softly. “She’s more fragile than she lets on.”

She hesitated, then added with a small, brave smile, “Don’t forget to kiss her too.”

She winked at me, forcing her usual fangy grin into place, her cute fangs peeking out as tears still clung to her lashes. She shook her head once, sending her twin-tails swaying gently in the slow, unreal air currents of the dream world.

Even now, especially now, she was still looking out for everyone else. That was very much like her… and just like Yuna-chan.

I stumbled toward Riko as she shook, dropped to the ground with her, and pulled her against me before she could curl in on herself. My knees scraped against the ground, my balance barely held, but I didn’t care about being hurt. I cupped her face and forced her to look at me.

Tears streamed freely from both of our eyes. Her eyes were red, swollen, and furious with grief.

“You know…” I said hoarsely, my voice trembling despite myself, “that kiss after the play.” I swallowed. “It was amazing.”

I brushed my lips against hers—soft, tentative, a promise rather than a claim.

“W–was it?” she whispered against my lips, her voice cracking. “I was just trying to take something for myself when I knew that—”

I shook my head, pressing my forehead to hers. “No. Don’t say it. I love you too, Riko. Every bit as much as Aoi-chan. And Yuna-chan.” My chest ached as I said it. “I love you.”

Riko gasped.

Light motes began to rise from her cheeks.

“NOT YET—STAY!” I screamed, panic ripping through me, and I kissed her with everything I had.

She jolted, then clutched at me desperately, her arms locking around my shoulders as she sobbed into my mouth. I tangled my fingers in her hair and kissed her harder, deeper, refusing to let go. My tongue met hers, urgent and unfiltered, pouring everything I felt into the contact.

I love you.

Her grip tightened. We stayed that way, breathless and shaking, until the world seemed to hold its breath with us.

When I finally opened my eyes, she was still there.

Riko stared at me and really looked at me, with an unexpected softness, her anger stripped bare.

“…Thank you,” she whispered. “I won’t… I won’t go just like that. I refuse to.” She hesitated, then asked quietly, “But I know that I have to. Sumire-chan… would you do me a favor so I can?”

I shook my head mutely, fear lodged in my throat.

“It’s not hard,” she said quickly. “Touch me like you touched Aoi. Just a little. Let me feel that you want me.”

I gasped, heat flooding my face even through the tears. “B–but we’re in public…”

“You don’t have to go too far… but this is a dream world. Why should you care what they think?” she said, almost smiling. “At least let me feel your love.”

I nodded, my resolve shaking but firm. My fingers lifted to her cheek, tracing the wet path of her tears, then slid down to her chest and lingered there. I let my touch on her breasts linger through the fabric of her yukata, massaging her slowly, firm enough that she would feel it, my thumb pressing just enough against her nipples.

I kissed her again, softer this time, pressing close as my tongue caressed hers. One of my hands trailed down to her hip, holding her there as I nuzzled against her, kissing at her neck. It was what we both needed, I realized.

She shivered, yielding to the contact, her breathing unsteady.

I ran my hand over her hip and down to her legs under her yukata. My fingers danced slowly up her smooth skin and found a warm, damp spot down there. I stroked tenderly, using everything that I’d learned from Aoi-chan as I kissed her again, pressing against her.

She shuddered and whimpered softly into our kiss as our tongues brushed against each other.

When the kiss finally broke, she smiled at me, her face flushed—bright, relieved, her tears spilling freely.

Then she vanished.

Her body dissolved into a flurry of dream motes, rising like butterflies into the air.

And suddenly Rui was beneath me, smaller, her form lighter. She was smiling through her tears, her eyes shining, her face pink.

“You really did it! You’re not a noh nuts.” She giggled. Then her voice softened. “You know… she really loved you.”

She looked up at me, eyes bright through tears. “And I do too. Don’t you forget her, baka.”

“I won’t,” I promised, wiping away tears with a hand.

I helped her up and hugged her just as Ume and Aoi rushed over.

“It’s good to see you again, Rui-chan,” Aoi-chan said.

Rui stared at her for a heartbeat, disbelief flickering across her face, then she let out a sound that was half squeal, half sob and threw herself into Aoi’s arms. Aoi caught her without hesitation, lifting her easily and kissing her with fierce affection.

I watched, my breath hitching, as Ume slipped her hand into mine and squeezed gently. Her lips trembled between joy and sorrow.

“I missed you so much, Reiko!” Rui cried. “Even if your face is different, your voice is even a little different too—But I know it’s you!”

“Yes,” Reiko said softly. “I knew you too. I’m sorry I was so rough on you. You’d already had happy moments with me. Because I kept rejecting Susumu… I had to focus on her.”

“I don’t blame you for that,” Rui said. “Susumu really fell apart without you, you know?”

“I know,” Reiko replied. “But she’s been reforged into tougher stuff now.” Her gaze shifted to me, warm and certain of her words. “She won’t break so easily anymore. She’ll protect you properly now. Here’s your spiritual detective.”

I flushed. “I’m not that special…”

“You are,” Reiko said firmly. “You have far more control and awareness than I ever did. I summoned Noh Face from Mitsuhiko’s scroll without knowing what I was doing. Your Maneki-Neko Fist came purely from you. Creative and amazingly adaptive… so beautifully clever. Your consciousness power beat his.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It was our power. Without you I’d have failed—”

“Then we’re a dream team,” Reiko said with a soft laugh. “The perfect tag partners. If you ever falter, I’ll protect you with everything I have.”

“Yeah. I love you, my wife,” I said, pulling her into my arms and kissing her again, holding her and Rui as tightly as I could.

I felt them before I fully noticed them… a familiar presence, steady and warm, ones that I had felt all my life, cutting through the strange stillness that had begun to settle over us despite the clash in the sky. My family stood a little way back at first, as if they’d been unsure whether they were allowed to cross some invisible boundary. Dad’s hand rested protectively at Mom’s back. Haru hovered near them, his eyes wide, trying to take in everything at once.

They approached slowly, their footsteps careful, almost timid.

“What’s going on?” Dad asked, his voice low, not panicked but searching.

I swallowed and turned toward them. Reiko’s hand held mine firmly. I was grateful for her touch.

“A battle for our future,” I said, and my gaze lifted again despite myself.

High above us, the sky had become something else entirely. Foxfire streaked through the darkness like burning constellations. Mirrors fractured the air, catching fireworks mid-bloom and scattering them into impossible angles. Two kitsune goddesses clashed with the vast, distorted shape of Noh-Baku, whose presence made my skin crawl even from this distance. Every time his power surged, the air seemed to tighten around my chest.

Mom followed my gaze, her breath hitching. “What do you mean?”

“We’re all waking up soon,” I said softly. Saying it out loud made my lips tremble. “This wonderful world… this dream…” I shook my head, trying to steady myself. “Don’t you feel it? It’s all ending.”

There was a pause. Not of disbelief… a recognition of the truth.

Mom pressed a hand to her chest. Dad exhaled slowly, as if a fear he hadn’t understood that he was carrying had finally been identified. Haru’s expression tightened, his jaw working like he was trying very hard not to cry.

“So that’s what this is,” Dad murmured. “I wondered why everything felt… so strange. There’s a tension in the air like the world is coming apart.”

Reiko squeezed my hand, holding me in the moment. I turned fully toward them then, and something inside me settled into place—heavy, painful, and despite all the pain that filled my chest, it felt right.

“I need you to know something,” I said. My voice shook, but I didn’t stop. “You’re my real parents. I’ve known you for a lifetime, even if that time felt so short. I remember everything you taught me. Every meal we shared. Every recipe that mom taught me… Every argument we had,” I smiled at Haru and then our parents. “Every wonderful, ordinary day spent with you. It’s been indescribably… perfect.”

Tears blurred my vision. I bowed deeply, the way my body knew how to do even when my heart felt like it was breaking.

“I’m the daughter that you raised. Thank you so much for everything!”

The tears spilled freely now, splashing against the ground. I straightened just enough to look at them again, my chest aching.

“I love you all,” I whispered. “I’ll miss you too, Haru.”

Haru laughed weakly, scrubbing at his eyes with his yukata’s sleeve. “You’re not supposed to say it like that, Onee-chan!” he said, his voice cracking. “You make it sound like you’re going somewhere far from me.”

“I am,” I said gently. “But I’ll carry you with me. All of you. You were the family I always needed and wanted.”

He stepped forward suddenly and wrapped his arms around my waist, tight and fierce. “Then don’t forget me,” he muttered into my shoulder. “Even if you’re really waking up somewhere else or something. Even if everything changes.”

“I won’t,” I promised, holding him just as tightly. “Never, Haru.”

Mom joined us next, her arms warm and sure, like they had always been. Dad’s hand came down on my head, rough and familiar, his fingers trembling just a little.

I hugged them both, shaking.

“Wherever you’re going, make sure that you live well, Sumire,” he said quietly. “That’s all any parent can ask.”

Above us, the sky roared again, power colliding against power, the dream shuddering at its seams.

I pulled back at last, wiping my eyes, and turned once more toward the light and fire overhead. Reiko stood beside me, steady and resolute, her presence a promise rather than a goodbye.