Orochi sat back on the private booth's couch, dumbfounded. He had given up on watching Alesha's stream once she was turned into a sword, having made the very logical assumption that such would be her end. After all, as far as he knew, being turned into a sword was the same thing as dying -- the wizard Merlin had even said so. Had he given it a little more thought, though, he might have connected the dots and realized that if she had been truly deceased, her stream would have been terminated. He wasn't one to think critically like that, however, so it had gone over his head.
As such, he wasn't sure whether to feel frustrated, confused, or delighted about this particular turn of events. Not only had Alesha miraculously stumbled upon a method to recover her ability to think for herself, but she'd also happened to take a course of action that ended the Story early. Was she lucky or unlucky? He couldn't decide.
In the end, he found himself laughing. This was all so amusing!! Instead of meeting his mundane expectations for her, the participant Alesha had somehow managed to subvert every assumption he'd made and accomplish the near-impossible. Sure, it was because her wielder had chanced upon a variant Mind Flayer with an incredibly high-leveled unique skill practically designed to help with her situation, managed to loot it, and then gotten revenge against the person who'd betrayed and tortured her. Still, that didn't make it any less impressive. The ridiculously low probability of such things lining up just right for her at the proper times only contributed to his mirth.
It was like the thrill you'd get from finding that an old friend had managed to make a fortune as an entrepreneur despite having a hard time in college, or like coming back to a long-abandoned garden to find a perfectly ripe watermelon waiting for you to enjoy. He was just a stranger to her, an unknown observer, but ever since he'd taken an interest in her on Werewolf Island, he'd become invested in her fate. The sheer absurdity of how things had turned out this time gave him a satisfying thrill.
Flicking an ear, Orochi grinned, exposing pointed teeth. "Alright, Alesha, what fun things are you going to show me next?"
----
Cecilia Bingham, high school sophomore: a decidedly average person with below-average grades, half-decent looks and a cranky attitude.
"Yep, that's me," a girl with dirty blonde hair and dark grey eyes said, blowing a bubble with her gum at herself in the mirror. She had put the bare minimum amount of makeup on today (just some eyeliner) and was hoping her repeated mantra would be effective -- she needed to play it cool.
Her heart was still pounding from the events of the night before. Tha-thump, tha-thump, it went. Tha-thump, tha-thump.
She remembered a streak of light as she was out walking by herself, in a protest to her mother's nagging about her grades. It was a shooting star, she had thought, albeit an unusually large and fast one. She'd wished for the power to change her fate.
Then, a flare of agony where something had struck her chest. Unable to breathe and therefore unable to scream, she had clutched at her chest while curled up in a ball on the ground.
Had it been lucky that the weather was so deceptively nice? She'd thought it would be chilly, so she'd brought a jacket when she stormed out of the house. Then, finding it too warm for the sweater, she'd tied it up around her waist.
It was only thanks to this that she was able to conceal that she should have died that night.
When she'd woken up after passing out from the pain, she discovered that her wound had healed. Of course, she'd wondered if she'd imagined the whole thing; perhaps she'd somehow gotten high and hallucinated. After finding a partially burnt, blood-soaked, fist-sized hole in her shirt where the pain had been, she concluded it was something else. Something had definitely happened that night, though she wasn't sure exactly what.
From the living room, a male reporter's voice came through the television. "... cautioned to be wary of any unusual behavior in your friends or family. Please report any cases of unusual behavior to your local police so that these terrifying drugs can be traced and the criminals caught. On another note, Jenny, would you …"
Cecilia didn't know what the deal was with those drugs, but she sure as heck didn't want to be interrogated about ties to drug dealers she'd never met. That was why, despite being certain something was up, she promptly decided to deal with it herself.
It definitely wasn't about proving her independence or to spite her family.
At some point during school that day, though, her chest started to hurt again.
It was just a little at first. So subtle, so weak, that she could pretend it was just phantom pain from the night before. It made sense for such a thing to happen, right? It had been quite agonizing the night before. Now that things had calmed down, her body was just remembering something it had recently felt. She wasn't actually in pain anymore.
An hour or so after it began, however, it had already escalated to the point that she could no longer properly focus on her studies -- well, not that she was particularly studious to begin with. Usually, she'd be on her phone during lectures or drawing cartoon characters on her skin. That wasn't the case today, though; instead, her hand kept straying to clutch at her heart, subconsciously seeking to alleviate the pain.
What was she supposed to do?! Was she going to get caught and suspected of drug use just because she was in a little pain?!
[Hungry], she thought.
Hm? Was she hungry?
[Hungry. Need food.]
Thinking about it, she just couldn't understand why she'd thought she was hungry. Usually, she wouldn't even think about food except for at meal times. Why now? Her stomach wasn't that empty yet, and lunch wasn't for another half an hour. Couldn't it wait?
[No. Hungry. Food.]
What the heck?! Her face paled slightly as she suddenly realized that, although her thoughts usually didn't have any distinguishable "voice," these ones did. Androgynous, true, but unique and recognizable.
Were these thoughts even her own?!
[Hungry. Need food to pump heart. Not want die, you eat food now.]