Chapter 3: Izumi-chan Dreams of Touchscreen

I knew it! I just knew something was up with my mirror!

I stared at her, eyes wide, mouth agape, mind racing—and it came crashing down.

No doubt about it, she was in my mirror and was also just about as frozen as I was.

This is happening Keizo, you're not imagining things.

She's real.

This is real.

What are you even supposed to say in a situation like this?

Nothing dumb.

Yeah let's go with that.

“Please don’t tell me you’re a ghost! I promise to go to bed at a reasonable hour instead of grinding away at speedruns!”

I cowered.

A beat passed.

She stared at me blankly.

“I can assure you, I’m no spectre,” her voice muffled slightly. “And if I may, what is a speedrun?”

“…You’re kidding.”

I took a cautious step closer to the mirror.

“No—wait. Back up. We’re skipping past like five consecutive cutscenes here! What the hell are you doing in my house?!”

Her breath hitched. Eyes flicked down.

“I… My…”

She tripped over her words.

Then she tried again.

"Listen, I do not wish to hurt you, I promise. I'm not supposed to be—"

"Hey, it’s okay… I think I believe you," I said cautiously. "But that raises an even bigger question. What are you?"

She hesitated, then knocked on the mirror, almost rhythmically.

"I'm human. Like you. I believe." She scanned around her, nervously. "But I'm also… trapped."

"You're telling me you're stuck… like, inside my mirror?"

"Yes."

“And also human?”

“Yes…”

“Right.”

"Your world looks somewhat like mine, although very strange. I've seen things in your room that are …impossible to me." Izumi says, pointing behind me.

I turned slightly, looked over my shoulder.

“You mean… that?” I pointed.

She nodded solemnly.

“You’re telling me a blowdryer is the peak of technological sorcery in your world?”

“That contraption has no wires. No aether signature. How does it breathe wind without mana?” she asked, dead serious.

I turned back toward her slowly.

“I genuinely don’t know how to answer that… Bluetooth? wireless charging?”

“What’s a Bluetooth charge? Does your world run on these charges?”

“Forget I said anything...” I rubbed at the back of my neck.

I took a good look at her.

Her pale skin.

Her clothes looked like she got isekai’d straight from a JRPG no one’s translated yet.

“You’re… definitely not from anywhere around here.”

She suddenly ducked slightly, covering her face.

“Please don’t stare…”

“Right, sorry—just trying to, uh, verify your claim. Not that I’m checking you out. Or—god, this is getting worse the more I talk.”

A lull dropped between us.

“Look,” I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck, “given how absurd this whole thing already is, maybe we try and make it even a smidge less weird.”

“…Sure,” she said softly.

“I’m Keizo Tezuka. Eighteen. Senior at Matsuyama High. I like math, boss rushes, and forgetting to water my plants.”

She tilted her head, again.

“Izumi Hanei. Seventeen. From a place called Magnaria.”

I felt that there was something she wasn’t saying—but I didn’t wanna push further.

Not yet at least.

“Well… thanks for introducing yourself, Izumi.”

She smiled faintly. “Sorry for the scare.”

“Can’t say I expected a girl in my mirror today.”

“I didn’t expect anyone quite like you either, Keizo.”

We sat there a moment—me on the cold floor, her just… floating in a pane of glass—breathing like neither of us knew how anymore.

“…If you’re stuck and I’m here,” I said slowly, “might as well talk, right? Everyone’s got a story. What’s yours?”

She stared at me…

Actually she kinda stared through me… Weird.

“Banished,” she said.

I blinked.

“Like… socially or magically?”

“Both.”

“…Damn.”

“I was an easy scapegoat. The king, the church—they all wanted a public display. To make me into an example. I was too powerful. Too strange. So, they sent me away.”

I scratched the back of my neck. “Okay, but what did you do?”

She hesitated. “I practiced spellwork. Theurgic magic. Advanced sigilcrafting. That sort of thing.”

My eyes widened. “Wait. You mean actual magic?”

“Would you like me to show you?” she offered cautiously.

“I mean, yeah sure! But also, please don’t set my house on fire.”

She chuckled once. “I’ll try not to.”

She extended her arms wide.

And then—

A spark. A brief flare. Then—

Boom.

The light collapsed in on itself like a reverse firecracker then boomed outward, and she pinged off out of frame in a second.

“Crap! Was that supposed to happen?!” I called out to her. “Are you okay?!”

She popped back into view, pouting. “I’m fine. But yes… It appears I’ve been significantly debuffed. There’s a barrier here. I can feel it.”

I exhaled. “That was… actually kind of sick.”

“I have no ailments.”

I blinked.

“I meant, like… cool? Amazing?”

“You mean fascinating?”

“Super fascinating! I mean, no… sorry that looked like it hurt. I meant the lights and the flares—”

“You sound like every kid I’ve ever shown magic to,” she giggled, then frowned again.

“But it’s all gone now. Or… caged, at least. My hands feel hot, mild spellburn most likely.”

“I don’t think you’re powerless,” I said. “Just suppressed. Whoever exiled you probably locked you down here.”

“My father warned me…” she said, quietly. “He told me to be careful with my gift. I don’t think he meant this, though.”

“What’d they think you were going to do?”

“I don’t know. Burn the kingdom down? All I ever wanted was to learn and be helpful to my village. But once people think you’re dangerous…”

She trailed off.

Then her breath caught.

“…I don’t have anyone left. I don’t know what to do now.”

The words hit hard.

I wasn’t sure why I did it, but I reached out and pressed my palm against the glass.

“Hey. You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

She blinked, eyes suddenly wet.

“That… means more than you know.”

“You’ve got me. I’m not going anywhere.”

A beat.

“Meeting you changed everything,” she whispered.

“It sure did,” I smiled. “And I barely understand half of what’s happening.”

She pressed her hand to the same spot.

Glass to glass.

The mirror shimmered faintly, just once—like it was acknowledging us.

A thread had been tied.

One that couldn’t be undone.

⊹˚₊‧──────────────‧₊˚⊹ ⟡ ✧ a temporal jump ✧ ⟡ ⊹˚₊‧──────────────‧₊˚⊹

There we were, two idiots still talking across a mirror that shouldn’t be a conduit for interdimensional conversation.

And yet.

Izumi had her chin propped up on her hands like a typical daydreamer, glowing faintly in the clinical white shimmer of her magical prison.

“So,” she said, all curiosity and candlelight, “If I may, what would you consider to be the best thing in your world?”

God she’s so adorably formal.

I blinked. “Like... Japan?”

She nodded. “Or your home. Or that thing you keep calling... FamilyMart?”

I snorted. “Okay, FamilyMart is definitely not the best thing. It’s just the most convenient. Like oxygen, or a good excuse as to why I’m always staying up so late.”

I rubbed the back of my neck in thought.

Something actually meaningful floated up for once.

“But shrines, maybe. You’d like those. They’re old. Peaceful. Kinda like the sacred places you talked about in Magnaria. Just with less summoning circles and more drunk salarymen wishing for good fortunes.”

Her eyes lit up like the moon. “You’re serious?”

“Hold up. I’ll show you.”

I dug my phone out of my pocket and hoisted it like it was Excalibur. “Behold: technology.”

She leaned closer.

“That tiny slate? It looks cursed and void of colour.”

“It’s a smartphone,” I said proudly. “It’s like a magic box that talks. You can look at pictures, watch cat videos, order noodles, play games... all that.”

Izumi blinked. “I became confused somewhere between ‘cat’ and ‘noodles,’ but please do continue.”

I flipped open my gallery. The glow from the screen cast light across the room—and her.

“This one’s near my house,” I said, showing her a photo of a shrine nestled between office buildings and old trees.

“I've been going there since I was a kid. Looks like the past stubbornly refusing to leave.”

She leaned so far in she conked her head off the glass.

“Ow.”

“You good?” I asked her, rubbing the glass where her head was like it did anything.

Spoiler: It didn’t.

“I’m fine…”

Izumi’s breath caught. “That shrine… it looks like it remembers. Long after the people forget.”

I paused. “You always talk like that?”

“Talk like what?”

“All poetic and stuff.”

She flushed. Not subtly. I didn’t say anything about it. She didn’t say anything about me not saying anything about it. That was our entire thing.

“Show me more,” she whispered, both hands pressed gently to the glass.

So I did.

“That’s my school,” I said, flipping to a shot of our fortress of standardized despair.

Gleaming architecture.

Our class? Not gleaming.

Izumi gasped. “It looks like a palace built for Gods.”

“…It’s a prison with a vending machine and shoe cubbies. There’s a difference.”

She smiled wistfully. “My school was built from an old castle. We still have archways and a courtyard where the archery club shoots targets. And once, a teacher.”

“…I suddenly feel undereducated."

We laughed. She kept asking questions, like she was trying to inhale my world one picture at a time.

“So,” she said, “what do people ride here? We have horse carriages, but they’re bumpy and the horses always poop mid-ceremony.”

I flipped to a sleek silver bullet train.

A real aerodynamic menace.

“This bad boy? Tokyo in a few hours. No horses. No poop.”

She gawked through the mirror like I’d just handed her a prophecy. “It looks like something that could travel between dimensions.”

“Honestly, I’m just impressed when it’s on time.”

We kept going. Skylines. A video of the ocean. A cursed clip of a cat demolishing a bowl of milk.

Izumi cracked up, holding her sides. “That cat has no shame!”

“None at all.”

Another lull. It was comfortable this time.

She grew quiet.

“Your world is incredible,” she murmured. “Strange. Complicated. Beautiful.”

I shrugged. “It’s just home, y’know?”

“I envy that.”

I looked up.

She was still smiling, but her eyes had gone soft. Like something was echoing inside them.

“You miss yours, huh?” I asked.

She nodded. “Every time I see something new over here, I think of something I left behind.”

I pressed my hand to the mirror. “I wish I could pull you through. Or at least throw you some snacks.”

She laughed.

Quietly.

It cracked something in me.

“You’re kind,” she said. “You could’ve called me mad. Or shattered this mirror and thought nothing more of it.”

“In this economy?” I scoffed. “Mirrors are expensive.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you stayed.”

So was I.

We stood like that—her side glowing faintly, mine messy with snack wrappers and other random items I’d brought in to show her—until she said, almost offhandedly:

“Hey, Keizo… have you ever thought about learning magic?”

I blinked. “Didn’t you literally eat floor dust yesterday trying to cast something?”

“…Rude.”

“You launched yourself backwards like a pinball. There was a sound effect. A ‘thud,’ specifically.”

She puffed up like an offended mochi.

“That was a high-level sigilwarp. Totally different from this. Also: how dare you remember that so vividly!?”

“I have trauma.”

“Well I happen to have dignity.”

We glared. We grinned.

“This’ll be fun,” she said. “You’re untrained. Untuned. Nothing might happen. But still…”

I raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying I’m probably gonna fail. And you’re excited about that?”

“Welcome to magicka, apprentice.”

I sighed. “If I blow up, you’re getting sued from the afterlife.”

She beamed. “Deal. Now—sit up. Straight back. Eyes closed. Breathe.”

I obeyed. Badly. My shoulders felt like bricks tied to stress.

“…You’re picturing me falling on my butt again, aren’t you?”

“Especially your butt.”

She turned beet red.

“Keizo! Focus.”

She placed her hand on the mirror. I mirrored her. Our fingers lined up. I didn’t think. I just kinda went for it.

“Okay. Repeat after me,” she said softly, suddenly serious.

“Droplets come forth…”

“…Rain down ever so gently…”

“Aquasphere!”

Nothing happened.

“I feel like a massive chuunibyou, right about now.” I cringed, my eyes still closed.

“I don’t know what that means, Keizo.”

I peeked one eye open. “My point is, I knew it was too good to be true, I’m only good at playing the wizard in video games, but actually becoming the wizard? Impossible.”

“Again,” she said.

We chanted. Again. And again.

She’s adorably persistent.

The more we did it though, something started to stir. Not in the air. Not exactly. More like... inside me.

Or maybe it was the way she looked at me.

Or maybe the mirror itself—the way it reacted, just faintly, like it had ears.

Then—

SPLASH.

A full-on high-pressure orb of water shot out of my hands and detonated above me.

“GAHH—!”

I stood there, soaked. Hair dripping. Shirt glued to my body.

“I specifically recall the words ‘rain down’ and ‘gently’” I sputtered.

She kept laughing—but her eyes stayed on me.

And then they changed; they went soft.

“…Wait,” I muttered. “Did I actually do magic just now!?” I exclaimed.

Her laughter slowed. Stopped. Her whole face softened.

“…You did,” she whispered. “That wasn’t me. That was you!”

I looked down at my soaked hands. Water pooled around me. My fingers were still buzzing.

“There’s no way I just did that! It can’t be…”

A pause.

“You skipped… several critically important steps,” she murmured.

But she wasn’t teasing me anymore.

“Maybe…” she said slowly, brows drawing in. “Maybe it wasn’t just the incantation. Maybe... the mirror tethered us. Through... emotion? That can’t be right…”

I blinked. “You mean like Wi-Fi but for magic?”

She shook her head, still watching me too closely. “No. Keizo, Your magic flowed through me and then to you. Directly.”

I tilted my head. “So… you’re saying this is your fault and I got splash-attacked because your energy is just that contagious?”

But she didn’t laugh.

“I—I don’t know,” she said, a little breathlessly. “That… shouldn’t happen. Not this fast. Not with someone untuned. It usually takes… training. Years. Emotional calibration. Mutual trust. A desire to…” Her voice faltered.

I blinked. “To what?”

She blinked rapidly. Her face flushed pink. “Never mind. I was… babbling. Clearly.”

But something in her posture had shifted.

She wasn’t just reacting to the magic anymore.

She was reacting to me.

This was different though. Tense. Soft. Charged.

All of that rolled up into a riceball of magical chaos.

“…Well,” I said, trying to derail the cosmic tension with dumb sarcasm, “thanks for the waterboarding. Very ceremonial.”

Her eyes snapped back to mine. A grateful distraction.

She smirked. “My pleasure.” Then, more quietly: “You wear the ‘drenched and magical’ look far too well. I’m starting to worry.”

My cheeks burned. I pretended they didn’t. She noticed. She also pretended not to.

Izumi shifted, suddenly flustered. She pulled back from the mirror, hand retreating from mine a little too quickly.

“I—um—I should go rest,” she said, voice too high and too fast. “Magical tutoring is—well—exhausting work. For a girl like me. Obviously. Yes.”

“Right,” I said, trying not to smirk. “Wouldn’t want you to accidentally soulbond with someone or anything.”

She choked on air.

“G-goodnight, Keizo.”

She vanished from the mirror’s glow in a puff of awkward retreat.

I was left dripping, half-magical, and feeling like I’d just accidentally gotten engaged by doing a spell wrong.

And somehow?

I didn’t hate it.