Doomsday Call

Yumie’s laugh was beautiful, Braith decided.

It was the kind of fairy laugh that instantly lightened the mood - contagious, delicate, unmistakably hers. She laughed as he grinned, satisfied that he’d delivered the joke perfectly. The wall-mounted television - larger than the one above the bed - provided soft background noise, mingling with the patter of rain against the windows.

Mostly, though, Yumie talked. Or rather, asked questions.

She sat on his lap while he compared laptop specs online, determined now to buy one. If he was going to find work that let him stay with her, it would have to be remote. He was confident enough in his skills - sure he could learn whatever he needed.

But Yumie wanted attention.

So she got it.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself before speaking again.

“That’s funny,” she said warmly. “Thanks for telling me that.”

He smiled.

“Anytime.”

She was doing a good job of learning him - really learning him. He suspected she’d remember almost everything. Living in permanent darkness had sharpened her other senses… and her memory.

He wondered, briefly, how long it would take before he ran out of things to tell her.

She smiled again. “So if that was your childhood… what about your siblings?”

He blinked.

“I don’t have any.”

“Oh. Right,” she said quickly. “I knew that.”

Maybe her memory wasn’t quite as flawless as he’d thought.

He patted her head.

“Yeah. It’s just me.”

A bitter chuckle escaped him.

“I’m quite the disappointment.”

She tilted her head up toward him.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he said slowly, “I’m their only child. And I abandoned my future because I wanted to use magic.”

She leaned back into his chest.

“But you’ve accomplished a lot since then…”

He shrugged.

“I haven’t told them anything.”

“Why not?”

He sighed.

“Because as soon as they find out about us, they’ll ask about children. And about when I’m coming home. Knowing full well that I can’t.”

She shifted slightly.

“I don’t mind if they ask about children…”

“I know,” he said softly. “But I don’t know how they’ll react beyond that. Especially when they find out you’re technically… part of me.”

She smiled faintly.

“Isn’t that what marriage is? Becoming part of each other?”

He hesitated.

“I guess you could look at it that way.”

“I want to call them.”

He blinked.

“Why?”

“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “is it weirder to call and explain everything… or to someday show up on their doorstep with a fox-eared girl clinging to your arm and a baby in your hands?”

The image sent a spike of fear straight through his chest.

He exhaled.

“Okay. Let’s call-”

And then he noticed the television.

A documentary.

One he recognized immediately.

The empty bomb bay of an aircraft slid across the screen, framed against a deep blue sky - empty because the payload was already falling.

Braith’s breath caught.

He searched frantically for the remote.

On the bed.

Yumie was in the way.

There was no time.

He lurched to his feet, nearly shoving her aside as he moved, panic flooding his system - but she latched onto his arm.

“Hey! That hurt!”

Tears sprang to her eyes as he tried to pull free.

“Stop it! Stop it! You’re hurting me!”

He abandoned subtlety, lunging for the bed and dragging her with him. He was stronger. She lost her footing, slammed into his back, and they both crashed down as his fingers skimmed the remote.

Missed.

He scrambled up again as she cried.

“Stop… stop…”

Then he heard it.

The rolling, world-ending crash of a nuclear detonation.

Yumie’s cries cut off instantly.

Her grip loosened.

Braith sagged half onto the bed, half off, frozen.

Silence stretched.

Then she whispered, very quietly,

“What… was that?”

He didn’t want to answer.

“A nuclear bomb.”

His fingers found the remote and killed the screen - but it was too late.

Yumie lay curled on the floor, letting go of him for only the second time in her life.

“Oh no… oh no…”

He slid backward until his back hit the bed, breath shallow, chest tight.

No words were needed.

They both understood.

The sound - even a recording - had worked.

She now carried power beyond comprehension. The ability to erase cities. Nations.

No cooldown. No restraint except choice.

Minutes passed.

Her whispers continued, broken and stunned.

Finally, disoriented-

“Are… are you still there?”

He nodded uselessly. “I… am.”

She reached for his voice, found his leg, traced upward until her fingers closed around his arm. She pulled herself up beside him and collapsed into his open embrace.

Neither of them cried.

No words passed between them.

No movement, no reassurance - just a deep, silent hold.

They understood what they had become.

A moral landmine.

An unusable bargaining chip.

A tool.
An ace up the sleeve.

Exactly what the anti-purists - and the government - wanted.

And all they could do was cling to each other, the forgotten call echoing nowhere.

Outside, the rain continued to fall softly against the windows, utterly unaware of the doomsday waiting inside.