Chapter Text
Yumemizuki Mizuki – Clinical psychologist, was what was written proudly next to the Yumekui-Baku’s shoji door.
Mizuki had only moved to Nexus City a few months ago. When she settled in the Little Inazuma district on the eastern outskirts of the city, she had come with the plan to expand the Aisa Bathhouse, thinking it would be a major attraction in a mostly westernized city. And, to be fair, the hot spring did have its fair share of customers on a regular day; twice as many on weekends. But the biggest draw, to Mizuki’s surprise and somewhat alarm, was her therapy sessions. Every day, she was almost completely booked with sessions that stretched from sunrise to sunset, and some customers even booked sessions at midnight!
There are a lot of mentally messed-up people in this city, Mizuki thought wearily.
Today was Saturday, so Mizuki was expecting another packed day since most people were off from work. In preparation for the influx of guests, she prepared the favorite lavender incense sticks (“Great for relieving stress and good dreams!”) and laid out the Shikibuton on the tatami floor next to the pouf stool in case the guests wanted to lie down. She was in the middle of pouring some chamomile tea (“Best way for a good night’s sleep! Available at the gift shop!”) when the shoji door slid open, and one of the attendants peeked her head in.
“Yumemizuki-sama?” said the attendant with a rich Inazuma accent. “Your first client of the day has arrived.”
“Oh, good, send her in,” said Mizuki happily, setting down the teapot.
The attendant disappeared for a few moments, then the shoji door opened again, and Mizuki’s first guest stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. Mizuki had a wide eclectic of customers that she didn’t bat an eye when the Goddess of the Earth, Kiana Kaslana, took off her slippers by the entrance (Good manners!) and padded over to her.
“Hello, Mrs. Kaslana,” said Mizuki, bowing respectfully. “Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat.”
“Thanks,” said Kiana, bowing in return, before settling down on the pouf across from Mizuki.
“So, this is your first session, correct?” asked Mizuki kindly.
“Yup,” said Kiana, popping the ‘p’ sound. “Mei seems to think I have some ‘unresolved issues’.” She made quotation marks with her fingers. “And thinks I need a therapist. I personally think I’ve resolved most of my issues when I scorched that stupid puppet girl to ash with the power of the sun. But, you know, wives be wives.”
“Er, right,” mumbled Mizuki, not particularly following Kiana’s example. “Speaking as a professional nightmare eater, most people spend their entire lives without realizing that they carry some unresolved trauma, even if they themselves are happy and unbothered. But that’s what we’re here for: to find these hidden issues and bring them to the surface so that we may resolve them.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Kiana hummed, crossing her arms and tilting her head thoughtfully.
“Excellent!” said Mizuki brightly. She reached over to the floor table beside her to retrieve her pen and notepad, pen poised over the lined paper. “Why don’t we start something simple? What can you tell me about your childhood?”
“Well…,” Kiana mused. “I suppose it all started when I was born in a test tube.”
Mizuki blinked slowly, raised her head, and said, very cautiously, “…Huh?”
“So, Miss Klee,” Mizuki hummed, jotting down a note on her pad before addressing the little elfish girl across from her. She looked so sweet and innocent as she smiled and kicked her tiny legs to a song only she could hear. “Your guardian, Jean, says that you have an extended history of – let me check my notes.” She flipped through the pages. “’Making bombs and throwing them in every body of water you can find.’ Is that correct?”
“Uh-huh,” Klee nodded, unabashed.
“Why do you think that is?” asked Mizuki.
“Because it’s fun,” said Klee, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Right,” Mizuki mused, jotting down another note. “You know, clinical studies say that children often act out when they want attention. Though the arson is new. Do you think there might be some truth to that? Are you doing this for attention?”
“I don’t know,” said Klee, shrugging her shoulders. “I mean, yeah, my mom left me when I was a baby and never bothered to visit, even on my birthday. Aunt Jean and everyone else is always busy with work, so they don’t have time to play with me. And I may have a life-scarring, maybe even crippling, fear of abandonment. But I don’t think that has anything to do with me putting that bomb in the hot spring.”
“Well, Klee, the first thing is – wait, did you put a bomb in the hot spring?” Mizuki asked quickly.
“…No-o-o-o-o…,” Klee answered unconvincingly, averting her gaze.
The explosion and chorus of surprised shrieks in the distance said otherwise.
“So Mr…Blade, was it?” asked Mizuki slowly, glancing between her notes and the stone-faced man sitting across from her. She tried to pretend that she didn’t notice the copious amount of swords sticking out of his body. Or the noose around his neck. Or that he was currently drinking a gallon of rat poison. “Your friend, Miss Kafka, booked you this appointment because she’s worried about me.”
“Why would she be worried?” asked Blade dryly as he poured the scalding hot tea kettle on his face, burning himself.
“Well, it says here that you’ve been trying to kill yourself lately,” Mizuki answered, showing him the four complete pages of neatly scrawled notes.
“I’ve been trying to kill myself for centuries,” said Blade monotonously as he stabbed a burning piece of incense in his ear. “Ever since the day that man, Dan Feng, committed the atrocious sin of cursing me with immortality, I have been searching for a way to end my wretched existence. I even joined with the Destiny’s Slave in the hopes that he could finally liberate me from this horrid existence.”
“Yes, well, I’m sure we can discuss that in another session,” said Mizuki, already jotting down a date in her planner. “But still, the main reason Miss Kafka is concerned is that your suicidal acts have become more…public lately.”
“Meaning?”
“You traumatized a group of school children by jumping in front of their bus,” said Mizuki bluntly.
“Okay, I can see how that may look bad – “
“It is bad,” retorted Mizuki.
“So…if I just kill myself privately, that would be okay?” asked Blade.
“…Yeah, sure, let’s go with that,” said Mizuki, jotting down another note.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” Koleda Belabog complained for the hundredth time, sitting on the puof, arms crossed, and cheeks puffed out like a petulant child. Of course, Mizuki was wise enough not to say so out loud.
“Yes, you do,” said Mizuki calmly, jotting down another note. “Grace says that you’ve been avoiding the topic of your father.”
“Well, that’s none of her business!” Koleda snapped.
“She’s just someone who cares about you, Miss Belabog,” said Mizuki, raising her hands with a disarmed expression. “According to Miss Grace, every time the subject of your father is brought up, you typically try to change the topic or find some excuse to leave the room – “
“I’m the president of a company!” yelled Koleda. “I’m busy! I should be working right now, in fact – “
“Your co-workers have cleared your schedule for the whole day,” Mizuki interjected. Koleda gritted her teeth in annoyance. “Now, about your father – “
“There’s nothing to discuss!” Koleda snapped. “I found out the truth about what happened. Everyone knows that he wasn’t an embezzler, and his murderers have been brought to justice! Case closed! There’s nothing else to talk about!”
“How did you feel when you found out?” Mizuki continued uninterrupted.
“How did I feel?” Koleda parroted.
“Yes, how did you feel when you found out the truth?” said Mizuki. “You spent your childhood and part of your adult life thinking your father stole money from your company and abandoned you. But it turned out that he took the money to help your company and even sacrificed his own life to keep everyone safe for over a decade. Surely you must have some feelings about this.”
“Well…yeah, I mean, obviously I did,” Koleda started slowly. “I…well, I thought my dad up and left me. I thought maybe I did something wrong and he didn’t want me anymore. I spent years listening to everyone say how awful my dad was and how I was just like him. I had to fight tooth and nail to save his company from going under after our reputation took a massive hit. And – and then,” she sniffled slightly. “Then – then I found that recording my dad left. The – the one that proved he was – was innocent. That he was…was….”
“Killed?” Mizuki offered bluntly.
Koleda nodded weakly, blinking her eyes fast, sniffling harder.
“I – some part of me – me knew he – wouldn’t do all those - those bad things,” Koleda hiccupped, rubbing her eyes aggressively. “I – I was so happy to – to know that he – he wasn’t the – the bad guy. But – but he’s still… and–and I’ll never – never get to….”
Mizuki silently offered a box of tissues.
“How would you describe yourself, Miss uh…,” Mizuki asked slowly, looking between the three different names labeled on her client’s profile sheet.
“Just call me Durandal – everyone does,” said Durandal kindly. Out of all her clients, she seemed the most put together. Sitting up with proper posture, exuding both beauty and strength without trying. There was hardly a wisp of nightmarish energy that Mizuki could see. Not that there wasn’t any, but it was barely enough for a snack. “My wife calls me Master Durnadal despite my asking her not to, and my little sister loves to call me Dudu. Honestly, it’s up to you.”
“Durandal it is, then,” Mizuki nodded. “So, I believe it was your wife who suggested you come here?”
“Well, we were actually visiting the hot spring next door,” said Durandal, gesturing to the side. “But Rita thought it would be good for my mental health if I shared with someone other than family.”
“Your wife is very smart,” Mizuki complimented.
“She is a professional maid,” Durandal.
“Well, it doesn’t seem like you actually need therapy in my professional opinion,” said Mizuki. “But if there’s anything you’d like to share with me, you’re more than free to. Whatever happens in this room is completely confidential. No one will hear a peep. You have my promise as a licensed psychologist.”
“Thank you very much,” said Durandal, bowing politely.
“So, what would you like to talk about?” asked Mizuki, raising her pen and pad.
“Hmm…,” Durandal, touching her chin thoughtfully. “Well, there are a number of things we could talk about, I suppose. We could discuss how my mother's death when I was two left an impression on my psyche. Or how I nearly died when my father and I were escaping Schicksal. Or how the former Overseer, Otto, saved my life to fix the wound in my head, but also wiped out my memories. Or we could discuss how I dedicated my entire life to training to become the strongest Valkyrie in humanity. Or how I was manipulated by a man I spent my entire life trusting, only for him to betray everything I believed in. Or we can discuss how I discovered my true identity and suddenly found out I have a family I never knew. Or how my little sister ascended to godhood, and while I’m still trying to figure out the dynamics of what it means to be an older sibling.
“Honestly, it’s up to you,” she concluded with a polite smile.
Mizuki blinked slowly, silent. After an awkward pause, Mizuki reached over to the old-fashioned rotary phone, spun the number one, and waited two beats before someone answered on the other side.
“Hello, Murasaki?” she said. “Could you push all my appointments back an hour?”
“So Miss…Fu, was it?” Mizuki asked Kiana, who had moved to the futon and was lying on her back, hands folded on her belly, as she stared up at the wood ceiling tiles. “You say she…kidnapped you?”
“Yeah, right when I was in Sirin’s trippy memory/hallucination,” said Kiana, throwing her hands up exasperatedly. “She just…picked me up and dragged me to Schicksal HQ. The nerve of her! And I thought we bonded in Singapore. Granted, I don’t remember what happened in Singapore, but it’s the thought that counts!”
“So Miss Fu took you to Schicksal’s flying headquarters,” Mizuki hummed, jotting down a note. “What happened next?”
“Not really sure,” said Kiana, touching her lip thoughtfully. “Next time I woke up, I had killed Aunt Himiko.”
“So…you’re dead?” said Mizuki uncertainly, not knowing if it was proper protocol to bring up a sensitive topic.
“Yup,” said Murata Himiko matter-of-factly, flicking the floating halo above her head. She looked around and asked, “You got any wine?”
“So let me see if I am understanding this correctly,” Mizuki hummed, flipping through three pages of notes. “You think the world we live in is part of a spin-off series from a story called Honkai Impact Four-Ward, and you’re upset because it never got a proper conclusion.”
“Yes!” Senti exclaimed, jumping up and flailing her arms wildly. “There were so many unresolved plot points! What was the Round Table plotting? How does Vita come into all this? How come the other spin-off never went anywhere? Who the hell is Karin? How can Elysia just magically come back to life? Was Mobius just holding on to her blood sample for tens of thousands of years? What was the secret to Theresa’s pudding recipe? What happened to the Bronya-Seele-Sin Mal love triangle (square?) thing? I was emotionally invested in that plotline! I HAVE TO KNOW!” she screamed, picking Mizuki up by her collar and shaking the therapist erratically.
“Shion, get the sedatives!” Mizuki screamed.
“Osmanthus wine tastes the same as I remember,” Zhongli said reminiscently, “but where are those who share the memory?”
“…You literally just sat down,” Mizuki blinked, bewildered. “Who starts a conversation like that?”
“Oh, sorry,” Zhongli apologized, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “I’ve just been associated with that meme for so long, it’s basically my calling card.”
“I don’t follow modern brain rot,” said Mizuki bluntly.
“Right…,” said Zhongli awkwardly, sweatdropping.
“So, is there anything you want to share, Mr. Geo Archon?” Mizuki offered. “Maybe you would like to discuss the emotional effects of living thousands of years, remaining the same while everything and everyone around you grows old and dies? Or perhaps we could explore your difficulty in committing to a healthy relationship due to said longevity? Maybe get into a discussion about how it plays a role in your self-isolation and your unwillingness to interact with the modern world?”
“Actually…the owner, Mr. Susumu, said you had a…special drink tucked away somewhere,” said Zhongli, scratching his cheek. “And I was wondering….”
“Is it osmanthus wine?” asked Mizuki, giving him a dry look. The Geo Archon did not respond; only glanced awkwardly to the side. Mizuki sighed. “Recreation room. Behind the picture of koi fish. Second draw from the bottom.”
When she looked up, the door was open, and the Geo Archon was missing.
“So glad you finally decided to come in, Miss Firefly,” Mizuki greeted the silver-haired girl, who delicately took a seat on the pouf. “I believe Miss Kafka has been trying to convince you for some time now.”
“Convince being the operative word,” Firefly mumbled. “She said she’s take away my Stelle body pillow if I don’t come.”
“I…did not need to know that,” said Mizuki, sweatdropping. “Regardless, you’re here now, and that’s what matters. Now, I usually like to begin with my client telling me a little about themselves.”
“What would you like to know?” asked Firefly curiously.
“Anything, really?” said Mizuki, making a random gesture. “It could be something like your history, your relationships? Family? Interests? Anything you feel comfortable sharing. This is a safe space, and everything you say here is completely confidential.”
“Well…okay,” said Firefly, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose it all starts with me being born in a test tube.”
“So it’s a recurring theme,” Mizuki muttered, jotting down a note.
“What was that?”
“Nothing!” said Mizuki quickly. “Please continue.”
“Well, me and my…’sisters’ were genetically engineered soldiers created on Glamoth as part of the Iron Cavalry knights,” said Firefly, occasionally moving around in her seat to get more comfortable. “We were born with limited lifespans and were augmented to be combat-ready from birth to fight the – “
“Ah, sorry, hold on a second,” Mizuki grimaced. She swatted at a beetle that had flown through the open window and was hovering over her head. “Stupid bug. I swear, these things like to swarm the place – “
Firefly’s eyes were wide as dinner plates, but her pupils dilated to pinpricks, like she was experiencing Vietnam flashbacks. She stared at the harmless beetle, shellshocked. Mizuki raised her notebook to swing at the bug when Firefly suddenly burst into light. Mizuki let out a terrified squeak at the eight-foot knight standing in Firefly’s place. The iron soldier let out an earth-trembling howl, green flames bursting all around –
BOOM!!!
“Please come in, Miss Hoshimi,” Mizuki gestured to the fox-eared woman in a robe who stepped through the shoji door. “Please ignore the giant hole in the ceiling. One of my clients was…excited.”
“Okay…,” said Miyabi, who did, in fact, stare up at the giant circular hole in the ceiling minimally concealed by a few planks of wood.
“So, what brings you here today, miss?” Mizuki asked politely.
“Well, my girlfriend had coupons for the hot springs next door,” said Miyabi, who sat seiza-style on the poof. “She saw your clinic in the brochure and thought it would be good for me to resolve my childhood trauma.”
“Well, that’s what I’m here for,” said Mizuki, raising her pen and pad. “Feel free to share whatever you like. Take all the time you need…in the next hour.”
“All right,” said Miyabi, her expression growing serious. “But be warned: What I am about to tell you may frighten you, maybe even leave you terrified and disgusted.”
“There is no judgment in this room,” said Mizuki gently. “Whatever you have to say, I promise I will keep an open mind.”
“All right,” said Miyabi, taking a deep breath. “When I was a child…I was forced to kill my mother.”
“Okay,” said Mizuki, jotting a note down. Miyabi blinked and looked at her silently for a moment. “Go on.”
“I just told you I killed my mother,” said Miyabi, blinking again.
“I heard you,” Mizuki nodded.
“Shouldn’t you be alarmed, or at least concerned?” asked Miyabi, ears twitching in befuddlement.
“Oh, sweetie,” Mizuki chuckled. “Compared to my usual clientele, your tragic backstory is honestly the most normal one I’ve heard in months.”
“What kind of clients do you have…?” asked Miyabi, sounding somewhat concerned.
“That’s confidential,” said Mizuki lightly, jotting down another note. “So how did that make you feel?”
“So after I had a heart-to-heart with Aunt Himiko’s memory,” Kiana regaled Mizuki, the two of them sitting on the engawa outside, watching people walk around the garden, sipping a couple of vending machine sodas, “I saved my friends, turned into the Herrscher of Flamescion – which was seriously badass, by the way – and burned that puppet bitch to ash.”
“And this was after coming to terms that you are Sirin’s reincarnation and fighting the literal manifestation of her unresolved anger and hate,” Mizuki hummed. “So, what came next? I believe you said something about discovering that Durandal was the original Kiana and you two became sisters.”
“No, that happened later on,” said Kiana, taking another swig of soda. “But that was pretty weird itself. I mean, I knew for a long time that I was a clone, but everyone – Aunt Teriri included – thought the original Kiana had died. Imagine how surprised everyone was when we found out that she was actually Durandal, just without the memories.”
“Yes, I believe Durandal said something like that,” said Mizuki. “Not that I’m trying to breach my client’s confidentiality, but it seems like something that can be shared with you.”
“Yeah, she couldn’t remember who she was for the longest time,” Kiana grumbled. “All because of that asshole, Otto.”
“ – then I established a connection with the Imaginary Tree,” said Otto Apocalypse, smiling pleasantly as he entertained Mizuki with his (self-proclaimed) tragic tale, “creating an alternate timeline where Kallen wasn’t killed. And that was how I died.”
“But you’re alive,” Mizuki pointed out.
“It’s best not to think too hard about it,” Otto waved her off. “But back to my problem: don’t you think everyone is being completely unreasonable. I mean, I literally killed myself in a beautifully cinematic tragedy. Don’t you think that should be enough for everyone to forgive me?”
“Are…are you asking a serious question?” stammered Mizuki, mouth agape. “You conducted unethical experiments on people in your self-justified belief that their deaths were worth the price of creating a cure, which led Kallan to run away in the first place. You let loose a bunch of monsters trying to prevent her hanging, only to get her killed anyway. You extended your lifespan by five hundred years, inciting wars, experimenting on children, murdering people who considered you a friend, and trying to blow up a city. Not to mention what you did in Siberia, where you practically enabled the Herrscher of the Void’s ascension, leading to an orbital strike that murdered sixty percent of the world’s population. And what you did with the Kaslana family – cloning Kiana, erasing Durandal’s memories, enabling the Herrscher of the Void to come back and kill Murata Himiko, using them as your personal puppets, lying and betraying them. All of this for some insane desire to bring back a dead woman – who technically isn’t even the same woman now – that never loved you in the first place?”
“…well, when you say it like that, it sounds bad,” said Otto flippantly.
Five minutes later, the owner profusely apologized to Otto after Mizuki jumped him.
“You would think,” Furina shouted angrily, standing up straight (only coming to the same height as her sitting partner), “that someone who runs a quote-on-quote ‘orphanage’ would know how to wash the dishes!”
“One, my element is pyro, and yours is hydro, so I don’t know what you were expecting,” said Arclecchino, holding up one manicured finger before raising a second. “And two, I’m very busy with work.”
“And you think I’m not!” Furina snapped, stomping her foot. “I not only have to perform at the theater, but I’m also in charge of directing, the writing review, the costume review, the prop review, the peer review, and I have to review the reviews! Not to mention my work as an artistic consultant, shareholder for Chevalmarin Film Fantasyland, and my own brand of mineral water.”
“I’m still baffled by that last part, not going to lie,” Arclecchino admitted.
“What are you doing with your ‘secret club’ or whatever?” questioned Furina, pointing an accusing finger at her partner.
“That’s secret,” Arclecchino replied unhelpfully.
“She always does this!” Furina complained to Mizuki. “She’s always making excuses to run off on ‘secret business.’ Do you know the last time she was around to tuck the kids in?”
“The ‘kids’ are full-grown adults with their own careers,” Arclecchino countered. “And they’re not even your kids.”
That, obviously, was the wrong thing to say as Furina broke into another ten-minute tirade. Mizuki, who had been sitting with her head in her hand, groaned, “This is a therapy clinic! Couple’s counseling is two blocks down the street!”
“Continuing from our last session, Miss Fu,” said Mizuki as she pulled out another notepad, one labeled specifically for ‘Fu Hua’, which was almost completely filled. “You were talking about your seven disciples betraying you. Could you go into more detail about that?”
“Yes,” Fu Hua nodded as she lay back on the futon, slightly bewildered by the new hole in the ceiling. “Well, my seven disciples, whom I personally trained since childhood, got along well enough until I made the decision to end Jiang Wanru’s life.”
“And what led to that…extreme conclusion?” questioned Mizuki awkwardly.
“She had been infected by Honkai radiation,” Fu Hua answered bluntly. “During that period, we didn’t have treatments like Shariac blood or Longinus, so there was no way to save her. I made my stance clear that all who are infected with Honkai radiation should be put down before the infection grows worse or zombifies them. The other disciples shared a desire to protect Jiang Wanru, which I personally cannot fault them for, even if it was ultimately pointless. The exception was Su Mei, who had always hated me for killing her mother, who had also been corrupted. She was the one who orchestrated that assassination.”
“But you’re still alive,” said Fu Hua.
“Perks of semi-immortality,” said Fu Hua, shrugging. “I resurrected eventually, but the assassination damaged my power for the longest time. After that, I refused to train another Disciple for hundreds of years until I met Lixue.”
“I see,” Mizuki nodded, jotting down another note. “And if you had the opportunity to meet your disciples again, what would you say to them?”
“I think I would calmly sit them down,” said Fu Hua, “and explain to them that I had no ill intent with Jiang Wanru, and that I was only doing what I thought was best. It’s been hundreds of years since then, so I bear no grudge – “
Her words were cut off by a sharp knock on the shoji door, which slid open, and a blonde-haired boy poked his head in.
“Hey, doc!” Yanqing greeted cheerfully. “I know I’m early for our session, but I thought – WAAAH!”
Fu Hua lunged at him, a shadow over her bespectacled face, sword magically in hand.
“Glad to have you join me today, Miss Zhu Yuan,” Mizuki cordially greeted the dark-haired woman in the robe who entered through the shoji door.
“Thank you for having me,” said Zhu Yuan, bowing politely. Then her gaze diverted to the barely covered hole in the ceiling. “What happened to the roof?”
“Never mind that,” Mizuki waved her off quickly. She waited until Zhu Yuan was seated in the pouf across from her before continuing. “So, Miss Zhu Yuan, this is your first time in therapy, yes?”
“That’s correct,” Zhu Yuan nodded, smiling.
“So, what is your tragic backstory?” asked Mizuki, pen poised over her pad. “Don’t be afraid to share. Everything you say here is completely confidential.”
Zhu Yuan hummed, eyes roaming the ceiling thoughtfully, before she said, “I don’t really have a tragic backstory, to be honest.”
“You don’t?” questioned Mizuki, confused. “You don’t have some traumatic event from your childhood that shaped you into the person you are today.”
“Mmm, no, not really,” Zhu Yuan shook her head. “I had a normal childhood. Went to school, got good grades, did my chores, went to the police academy, and, well, became a police officer. That’s about it.”
“Okay…,” Mizuki said slowly. “On the topic of your parents. Any life-scarring deaths or abuse I should be aware of? Maybe a sense of abandonment or disinterest?”
“No, my parents were always kind to me,” said Zhu Yuan. “Sure, they could be a little strict, like ‘no TV after eight’ and ‘eat your vegetables’, but they always cared for me. They were very supportive when I came out as a lesbian, and they helped pay half my tuition in the police academy.”
“What about relationships?” Mizuki continued, now sounding desperate for something. “Coworkers you don’t get along with? Troubles with your girlfriend?”
“No, all my coworkers are great,” said Zhu Yuan, smiling. “Qingyi is cute and entertaining. Seth is always so kind and earnest to a fault. And Jane is always fun to have in the office, especially when she teases Seth. And as for girlfriends, Miyabi and I are actually visiting the hot springs for our one-year anniversary.”
“So…you have a normal, trouble-free life?” asked Mizuki, mouth hanging in disbelief.
“Well, the life of a police officer is hardly ‘trouble-free,’” Zhu Yuan frowned. “But, yeah, I don’t have anything to complain about.”
“Then why are you here?” Mizuki exclaimed impatiently.
“I got a coupon!” said Zhu Yuan brightly.
“…Get out,” said Mizuki monotonously, pointing to the door.
“ – and that’s how I became the goddess of the Earth and saved the world,” Kiana concluded, back on the pouf again. “So, whaddya think?”
“I think that would make for a great autobiography,” said Mizuki, jotting down another note.
“That’s what I keep telling Aunt Teriri!” said Kiana, throwing up her arms as if to say, ‘Finally, someone understands me!’ “Oh, and wait until I tell you the story of the shared New Year's dream, Rice Cake, and all the crazy things that happened on Mars.”
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to save that for another session,” said Mizuki, gesturing to the clock on the wall. “Our hour is up.”
“Okay,” said Kiana lightly. She stood up and stretched her arms above her head with a satisfied grunt. “Mei was right. Talking to someone else really is therapeutic.”
“That’s why it’s called ‘therapy’,” Mizuki joked, leading Kiana to the door. “So, shall we schedule another session for next month? How about the fifteenth?”
“Ooh, I think I’m supposed to be stopping an intergalactic invasion that day,” Kiana winced.
“Well, you have my number,” said Mizuki, opening the door for her. “Just call me when you want to schedule an appointment.”
“Sure thing, doc,” said Kiana. She reached into her pocket and dropped a handful of silver Denny coins in Mizuki’s hand. “See ya next time.”
“Take care, Kiana,” Mizuki waved her off.
With that, Kiana exited the room and shut the door behind her. After listening to her client's footsteps gradually fade away, Mizuki moved to the center of her office and removed one of the tatami mats, revealing a heavily fortified vault door. She turned the dial, inputting the code, and opened the heavy door with a grunt. Mizuki poked her head inside the vault – the vault being a hundred-foot pool nearly filled to the brim with millions and millions of Denny coins, which Mizuki added to with Kiana’s payment.
“I love this city,” Mizuki grinned before slamming the vault door shut.