Lumi knew Gossamer Wood.
Aki knew that because the Wood clearly knew Lumi.
Branches lifted for her.
Flowers turned toward her.
Paths opened just before her feet touched the ground.
Aki received none of these courtesies.
A root caught their boot.
They fell face-first into moss.
“This feels biased!”
Lumi’s voice floated back.
“You entered yesterday.”
“So?”
“I was born here.”
“That is exactly the sort of unfair advantage I object to!”
Aki pushed upright.
No Lumi.
They scanned the trees.
A glitter of pollen drifted right.
Aki ran right.
The trail ended at a pond.
Aki stopped at the water’s edge.
Lumi was nowhere.
The pond reflected the trees.
Aki.
Two tails.
And Lumi sitting on Aki’s head.
Aki froze.
Slowly, they looked up.
Nothing.
They looked at the reflection.
Lumi waved.
Aki jumped backward.
The reflected Lumi remained sitting on reflected Aki.
“What is that?”
The real Lumi’s voice came from behind them.
“A reflection.”
Aki spun.
She hovered beside a tree.
“That is not my reflection.”
“It contains you.”
“It contains you on me.”
“Yes.”
“You are not on me.”
“No.”
“Then why—”
The pond rippled.
The reflection changed.
Now Aki stood alone wearing nine tails.
The reflected Aki was taller.
Older.
Perfectly composed.
A Guardian robe flowed around them.
Behind the image stood crowds bowing.
Aki’s anger vanished.
Lumi watched their face.
“What did you do?”
“I did not do that.”
The reflected Guardian-Aki raised one hand.
The entire reflected forest bent.
Aki stepped closer to the pond.
“Nine tails.”
Lumi landed on a stone.
“You seem pleased.”
“Observant.”
“It was not difficult.”
Aki crouched.
The reflected version smiled.
No laundry.
No broken tiles.
No muddy ceremonial robes.
No uncertainty.
They looked exactly like the drawings in Aki’s room.
Aki whispered:
“That is what I’m supposed to—”
The image cracked.
Black lines spread across the pond.
The reflected crowds vanished.
Guardian-Aki turned toward them.
Its smile remained.
Behind it, the forest became rows of silver court markers.
Every path identical.
Every flower closed.
The reflection raised one finger to its lips.
Aki recoiled.
The pond became ordinary water again.
They stared.
“What was that?”
Lumi’s expression had lost its amusement.
“The prism is leaking.”
Aki turned.
“What?”
Lumi looked at the case in her arms.
Hairline light escaped around the lid.
Several colors.
Turquoise.
Gold.
Violet.
And a thin gray line between them.
“The prism should not be doing this.”
Aki stepped closer.
“Then put it down.”
“No.”
“You just said it is malfunctioning.”
“I said it is leaking.”
“That is not better.”
“It is more precise.”
Another flash burst from the case.
The pond rippled.
This time Lumi appeared in the reflection.
She stood inside a field of glowing flowers.
Hundreds of fairies surrounded her.
They sang.
Lumi stared.
Aki looked between her and the water.
“You?”
Lumi did not answer.
In the reflection, one fairy vanished.
The singing continued.
Then another vanished.
The fairies beside the empty space kept singing as if no one had been there.
Lumi’s hands tightened around the case.
The image shattered.
Aki looked at her.
“What was that?”
“Nothing useful.”
“That did not look like nothing.”
“I did not say it was nothing.”
“You said—”
“I said it was not useful.”
“To whom?”
Lumi flew away.