My Momo-onee?

“Momo-onee,” Kasumi sobbed, burying her face into the girl’s chest. Thunder continued to roar in the sky beyond, and raindrops beat down on the tree, but they held no candle to Kasumi’s outcry. Years’ worth of fear and panic poured out in minutes. When she finally regained her composure enough to open her eyes, she was surprised by the face she looked up at, or rather, by the lack of a face. The girl strained her neck to look straight up at the sky in a deliberate attempt to hide her face.

“Well, I’m not sure what your plan is, but I sure hope you’ve come up with something,” said a hovering samurai in a spiritual voice Kasumi couldn’t hear.

“Don’t say that, we’re still brainstorming,” the girl said, voice hushed and curt.

“Seems you’re out of time,” said the samurai.

“What do you—?”

“Momo-onee?” Kasumi asked, stirring the girl from her spiritual conversation, hidden from Kasumi.

“Hmm?” the girl asked, peeking down at Kasumi before turning back to the samurai. “Why didn’t you tell me she stopped crying?” she hissed in a harsh whisper. She cleared her throat before finally turning fully to Kasumi. “Ahem… So, are you all right?” she asked, in an obviously deepened voice.

“Um… I guess,” Kasumi said, the deep voice catching her so off guard that it jump-started her critical thinking.

“That’s good to hear,” the girl said, breaking eye contact to look around.

“What’s the plan?” the samurai asked, still hidden from Kasumi’s senses.

“Working on it,” the girl hissed, spotting and walking toward the bench.

“Better come up with something fast,” the samurai urged. “The more long-term memories are stored, the harder it’ll be to make it seem like a dream.”

“I know. Now shut up.” She set Kasumi down upon reaching the bench, mind still scrambling for a plan.

Kasumi, for her part, was just as confused, unsure what to make of this girl and her reactions. At first she had thought the girl was Momo-onee from the game, come to save her somehow, but the more she looked, the more differences piled up. While this girl had bright blue eyes and used a bow like Momo-onee, their distinctly Eastern versus Western influences and styles couldn’t have been more different. Yet something about how the girl had reacted so viscerally to being called Momo-onee made Kasumi unsure. This girl had clearly heard the name before; if not, the name would’ve confused her instead of startling her.

Kasumi began scouring her mind for anything useful from the mystery games she’d ever played and decided to go on the offensive.

“You are Momo-onee, right?” Kasumi asked, her eyes fixed to note any hint from the girl’s body language. She noticed the girl’s shoulders tense and her ears twitch, a telltale sign that Kasumi’s questions were getting to her.

What Kasumi’s deductions could never have told her was that she wasn’t the only one probing the girl.

“Oh my, she’s certainly direct,” the samurai commented, teasing his charge. “I can’t wait to see how you get out of this one without lying.”

The girl’s eyes snapped to her guardian, giving him a look fiercer than the one she’d given the demon she’d fought mere moments before.

“You are! Aren’t you?” Kasumi declared, drawing the girl’s attention back to her. Out of time, the girl gave up on thinking, relying entirely on the Spirit to provide her with the words she needed.

“You have said so,” the girl said.

“But am I right?” Kasumi pressed.

“Who’s to say?” the girl countered.

“If not you, then who else?”

“Perhaps my creator?”

“You mean the studio?”

“Studio?” the girl asked, more confused now than when she’d started.

The pair stared at each other for a moment, neither sure what to say. By this point, Kasumi was convinced she knew this girl somehow. The girl had stopped deepening her voice during the rapid-fire exchange. Kasumi could tell she’d heard the voice before, but matching it to a face was a fool’s errand, since she hardly ever looked at people’s faces.

The girl, for her part, felt she was in a deeper hole than she actually was. She could tell her answering-questions-with-more-questions plan had only made Kasumi more curious and thus harder to fool. Finally, the question about the studio caught her off guard. Neither was sure what to say, so they waited for the other to speak first.

In the end, a third voice broke the tie.

“Quest completed,” Momo-onee’s voice called, alerting both girls to Kasumi’s phone still lying on the ground.

“Oh, my phone,” Kasumi said, jumping to her feet and collecting her phone and wallet that had fallen during the altercation.

The girl watched her, noting the nickname plastered at the top of the character screen.

“Oh, Momo-onee is the character’s name,” the girl said, as if cracking a major case.

“Wait, you didn’t know about the game character?” Kasumi asked, connecting a few dots herself.

“Uhh,” the girl mumbled, realizing her mistake.

“If you didn’t know about the game, then you have to be another Momo.” Kasumi stood directly in front of the girl, placing a hand under her own chin to give herself an air of superiority.

“That might not be my name,” the girl tried to argue, unconsciously taking a step back.

“If it were, then you wouldn’t have acted so shocked when I said it, like if someone shouted ‘Wayne’ around Batman.”

“Who’s that?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Kasumi demanded, closing the distance between them. She straightened her posture and puffed out her chest, squeezing every ounce of advantage she could to make the girl submit. “So with all that in mind, I know exactly who you are.”

“Ah,” the girl yipped, forced back onto the bench by Kasumi’s crowding and invasion of her personal space. With her back against the bench, she had nowhere else to retreat as Kasumi brought her face so close the girl could feel Kasumi’s breath on her cheek.

“Just admit it,” Kasumi demanded.

The girl scanned Kasumi’s blank face. After years of impersonal observation and isolation, she’d developed keen abilities to recognize facial expressions, but those same years had also stripped her own face’s ability to make them. Her face was an unreadable stone, even as she lied through her teeth. Kasumi was no match for that blank wall and, ironically, the girl was no match for Kasumi’s persistence; she sighed in resignation.

“Fine,” she said, reaching behind her head and untying her mask. The thin leather strips fell, and she released the half mask, exposing her face.

Kasumi’s own face twisted. Before her sat Momo Hattori, the one who’d invited her to today’s outing, who’d prayed for her bullies, and whose name had escaped Kasumi despite hearing it numerous times.

“What was your name again?” Kasumi muttered under her breath, prompting a burst of laughter from the samurai she couldn’t see.

“So she really was bluffing!” he cackled, rolling around in the air.

It took every ounce of self-control Momo had to remain still. Despite his overblown reaction, his words had given her all the tools necessary to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Her eyes wobbled as her mind went into overdrive, trying to think of a better explanation than her first thought of being honest.

“You don’t remember my name, do you?” Momo asked, beginning her gambit.