She was aware - far too aware of the the thudding of her heart as it beat in her chest. It pounded within her ears in fortissimo, until all she could hear was the nervous beat of her own heart and the screaming of the Shadows that surrounded Bakura, eager and hungry, always there, always wanting more, waiting to devour, even when none commanded it.
He was solid beneath her fingers, solid, and far too real for her own comfort. Inch by inch, she raised her head to stare at him, wondering what she would find in his eyes. Miho had never understood how some had managed to read another’s feelings, another’s mood from their body language, from their faces. She thought though, that now, perhaps, she understood.
She moved not, a deer frozen in the head lights as his eyes stared into hers, not blinking, and intense. Perhaps, reality had frozen, and all that left was the two of them and the Shadows. ‘Could he feel them?’ She wondered to herself, because she, who should, by all rights, be unaware of such beings, was so intensely in tune to their existence.
His words startled her out of the reverie she had fallen into. She moved her arm away from his, her eyes not leaving his face. Her hyper-awareness of the Shadows had faded, and their voices a faint piano within her mind.
“I suppose, that you would know of him. The God of Darkness that is,” she began, unbidden. Her voice was light, dreamy, and lost. “Miho… Miho isn’t from here. She’s from another dimension. Timeline.” She snorted. “What does it even matter? The God of Darkness destroyed Miho’s home. And somehow, here she is, alive and mostly well.” Her lips curled into a smile, insincere and unhappy. She laughed suddenly. “It’s debatable.”
“So she has to wonder… How did this happen? Why is Miho here when her friends aren’t?” She reached up to brush against her own face with the pads of her fingers, completely unguarded. “Is any of this real?”
She shook her head. “Miho has to believe that this is real. Perhaps she is operating under an illogical assumption, but much of Miho’s last few years of life has been like this. Magic and monsters. Who would’ve thought?” It was a rhetorical question, delivered in a whimsical tone of voice, but there was no mistaking the bitterness that lay beneath the pleasant façade.
