My Normal Life Now Has An Apology and A Confession

“Stop! Fucking stop! Stupid!” Tama kicked the wall. “Room! You better listen to me before I blow you up like I did with the gnat!”

“Nacht!”

“I thought you weren’t speaking to me!”

“That was before you turned out to be so incompetent you pushed Lavi to flood the room if it meant teaching you something!”

“Shut up! She’s stupid, I didn’t ask for this!”

The water sloshed, up to Tama’s ankles as she paced back and forth. Even if she stripped (which she’d rather die than do) she wouldn’t have enough stuff on her person to clog even half the pipes pouring water into this training room. The dojo setting flickered out, imitating an open ocean. Which, in all honesty, did nothing to quell the rising panic.

Tama kicked the wall again. Nothing happened. The dial stayed locked in place, waiting for the room to fill with water before allowing anyone to switch settings. “Hey, Sarine, do something!”

“Help yourself.”

“You’ll drown too, idiot!”

“And then Ohzora’ll come and drag us out. I don’t need to be the one to fix this. Might I remind you you’ve been screaming at me for the past week to fuck off and leave you alone?” Sarine crossed her arms and turned away. “So I’m doing it. You three figure out your destiny, I’m done.”

“You—you dragged me into this.” Tama pointed at Sarine. “So you’re responsible, too!”

“Not anymore.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh!”

“Can you just shut up and pretend I don’t exist?”

“Not when the rooms flooding!? Just do some magic and teleport us out of here!”

Sarine said nothing. Tama groaned and punched the wall. For a second, she thought the water shifted away from her, and stumbled back…until she remembered each tiny movement in the water meant ripples. There was no way she could figure out what she effected based on flimsy signs like that.

“Auuuuugh!” Tama screamed, punching the wall again and again until her knuckles bruised—and even then she kept going. Each spark of anger cultivated into a bonfire, yet none lit with the passion needed to activate a spell.

No shake. No pushback. Just silence. Tama caught Chiho peaking in the window before she pulled back, the water lapping at Tama’s knees.

“Shit, shit—” Tama tripped, the heaviness of the water dragging her down, before she regained her balance and narrowly avoided a fall into the waves. And were those goldfish? ‘Was someone throwing fish in here?’ Tama wondered, before the owner of the death trap answered her question and released a carp.

Then, a piranha. Tama backed towards the wall.

“Hey, guiding faerie! Guide me already!”

“…”

Tama buried her head in her hands. “I’m—I’m sorry, okay, so get over it!”

…

…

Crap.

She wasn’t actually sorry. Tama couldn’t give Sarine an apology she’d accept because the little faerie saw right through her. A pit opened in her stomach, but no amount of pooling dread gnawing through her guts manifested anything close to the spell she managed that night.

Sarine looked at the ceiling.

This whole time, it’d been her fault. Tama loved her life. She had nothing to apologize for. It’d all been Sarine—she ruined it, she stuck her nose into weird situations and dragged Tama behind her like some doll, some piece of trash to pretty up and make herself feel better.

Something bit Tama’s ankle, and she screamed, kicking the piranha off of her. Lucky day, though, because the next creature bore a shark’s fin, swimming in steady circles at the edges of the growing pool. It touched Tama’s shoulders.

She shivered and slumped against the wall.

If the sea creatures didn’t snack on her first, then maybe Chiho would rescue her. She’d realize Tama wasn’t cut out for this and let her go home.

“…Why don’t you just leave?” Tama said. “What’s keeping you here? Duty? Screw that. Go be happy. You’re not stuck here.”

…

…

Tama snorted. “Figures.”

She closed her eyes. The lapping water echoed, and in some faint corner of her memory, another hand held hers. One a tad larger, yet much softer.

Mrs. Kimura—‘mother’. Other people called their parents mom or dad or even more cutesy titles, but Tama refereed to her parents with the formality they wanted. With all the traveling they did, they might as well have been strangers. They looked over her head, signed contracts, hired nannies and disappeared. The longest she’d been with them was a summer, before she started middle school.

They went to an aquarium. Tama pressed her hand against the glass, right as a shark swam past. Her mother smiled and yanked her along, breaking the momentary connection—they could only spend so much time on leisure, after all.

After—

“I’m sorry.”

Tama opened her eyes. Sarine fluttered in front of her, expression unreadable. Around them the glimmer of a protective barrier kept marine life at bay.

“…You were right,” Sarine said, looking down, wings beating faster. “The whole time, I’ve just been dragging you around. Treating you like some thing to throw work at hoping you’ll be who I want you to be. I guess…back in the Faerie World, that was how they trained us. I never figured out how to actually get along with people—just about magic, dangerous entities, history.”

“But…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s not your fault. That’s never been your fault. And I’m sorry. Do whatever you want.”

Sarine held a hand out. “I’m getting us out of here.”

The quiet cold building in Tama’s damp socks crawled up her spine; she shivered. Blinked a few times to see if she fell asleep and drowned in the waters. If Chiho had lied about rescuing her, after all.

But nothing was a dream.

Nothing was so simple.

Tama let out a shaky breath, and before Sarine breathed a word, she captured the little faerie in her hands. The barrier dissipated.

“Hey! Listen, I get it, you’re pissed, but you’re gonna get eaten, so don’t be—”

“Shut up.”

Tama opened her hands, peering down at a bright red Sarine. She took a deep breath—was she really gonna do this?—before the one thing she’d been afraid to admit slipped out.

“I’ve never had anyone I cared about, either. Not until this.”

And with those words, a warmth spread in Tama’s heart. Something thudded, and she doubled over just as Sarine lit up like the sun.

In a flash, the room changed. Because of a simple wish—a simple intent, and a gesture of affection.