It was with much trepidation Kimiko Freberg allowed her son to have his very first sleepover with Yūra's eldest daughter. As amicable as she may have been with the Kazakamis in spite of all their many... eccentricities, the child of theirs who Sun had taken to friendship with had not shown her the same courtesy.

  She didn't intend it as a slight against Yūra, who had been such a good friend to her these past five years, and had made her transition back to island life so much smoother; but, unfortunately, she often tended to downplay the worst of Mizuki's behavior, or make excuses for her - tendencies which Kimiko feared would only stunt Mizuki's emotional development. And she couldn't find it in her to hold any ill will towards the child, either; surely even with her mother's lackadaisical attitude, it wouldn't be too long before Mizuki learned not to strike others in her rages.

  So when there finally came a pensive tap-tap-tap on the door of her apartment that one Friday afternoon, it did not relieve Kimiko's nerves to find a pallid Mizune leaning against the adjacent wall, her hand laying limp on Mizuki's shoulder, her eyes lightless pools.

  "Good afternoon, Miss Freberg," Mizune said, her attention fixed on some uncertain point just over Kimiko's shoulder. "I brought... um, I brought..." she gestured to Mizuki, and gave both of her shoulders a little pat. "Brought her here for you. For the sleepover?"

  Kimiko forced a smile; knitted her eyebrows together. "Alola, Mizune... are you feeling alright? You look unwell. You could come in with us if you'd like, and take a little rest..."

  Mizuki looked up at her. A tiny triangle of pink tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth. "You got them? Got the straws?"

  Kimiko had come to learn the hard way Mizuki would not drink any beverage if she did not have a Rainbow Krazy Kurlicue bendy straw to suck it through. The last time she had come over to play at the Frebergs' apartment, she had not even deemed the delectable homemade chocolate milk Kimiko had prepared her acceptable enough for her to betray this personal rule.

  "Yes, we got your straws," Kimiko said, hoping her exasperation would not bleed through her curated cheerfulness. When she turned back to Mizune, expecting her to acknowledge her previous question, the girl met her with a sullen expression that said I will not answer you; not with the truth.

  It seemed the onset of her teenage years had incurred a markèd shift in Mizune's personality. She had grown taciturn, even unfriendly - two words Kimiko would never have dreamed of using to describe her even six months ago. Moments like these bred worry in her: were Yūra and Tenshiro giving her the support she needed at home? Of course, she was only on the outside looking in, but -

  - Mizuki furrowed her brow and began to tap her foot, derailing Kimiko's train of thought. She called Sun's name, and before she could elaborate further, he galloped into the living room, waving his arms about wildly. His eyes sparkled at the sight of his friend.

  "HI MIZUKI! NICE TO SEE YA! WE GOT THE STRAWS!!!"

  Sun, unfortunately, had yet to grasp the importance of using his 'inside voice'.

  "I know you got the straws," Mizuki said, and sashayed right past Kimiko into the apartment and up to his side. The two exchanged cordial nods, and headed into the kitchen to verify. Kimiko, struck with an irrepressible paranoia they would press their hands on the oven she had set to preheat dinner, issued Mizune a hasty goodbye (which the girl did not seem to notice) and dashed after them.

  The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. The children sucked their chocolate milk through their rainbow bendy straws, ate grease-slick slices of take-and-bake pizza, and watched cartoons in the living room; with the exception of Mizuki's offhand "she didn't stir it good enough", Kimiko heard no complaints.

  As she scrubbed clumps of melted cheese and speckles of dried marinara sauce off the dishes in the kitchen sink, she overheard Mizuki assert, "everyone knows Popplio's the strongest, idiot."

  "Well, I wouldn't ever wanna pick it," Sun said. "It's got, like, things on the sides of its head. Plus, it's girly."

  "What's wrong with being girly?!"

  "I didn't say anything was wrong with being girly! If you're a girl!"

  "But you said it in such a disgusterated tone... idiot!"

  "The only reason you like it at all's 'cause the strategy guides told you to. You won't even let me have a look at them anymore, 'cause you don't want anyone to know you're just copying everything you say from there."

  "That's because you never give them back, idiot!"

  "That's not fair. I did return it!"

  "Yeah - six whole months after I told you to!"

  Kimiko shook her head and allowed herself to smile.

  Then came bedtime. The two children were far more open to the prospect than she had expected them to be, and after she had helped Sun change into his pajamas and set Mizuki's sleeping bag up next to Sun's bed, finally, Kimiko could find it in her to tackle her piles of remote work. So many emails left to respond to... so many inquiries. While she was grateful she no longer worked night shifts at the hospital - oh, how put-upon she had once been - splitting her attention between a six-year-old boy and a full-time job was a lot to ask of her. She had feared - and still did - spending her life so devoted to the keeping of the health of others would lead her to an early grave.

  But it hadn't hurt so bad when she'd worked at the one in Kairis, in the mountains. She'd split away from them on account of a patient of hers, an emaciated white man with steely shale-colored eyes. They'd labeled him a drug-seeker, but she'd seen so many of those during her tenure there, and she concluded he had no such inclinations. Who did it help for them to pigeonhole the ailing in such a manner? But he got better, and the pain went away - until he birthed it in her anew.

  Every day, she thanked her lucky stars it was her who Sun took after.

  An hour later, the tasks were done, and Sun and Mizuki were not asleep. Their attempts at whispers slipped almost surreptitiously under the door and out into the hall.

  "I got it slammed in the door a couple a' weeks ago. Nene did it, but she said it was an accident. It started out red, then it turned purple, and now it's all puke green. Miki said it's gonna stay like that forever."

  "Ew, Mizuki! I don't wanna see that!!!"

  "Look at it. Come on. Look."

  "I am looking! I'm just saying I don't wannaaaa!"

  "It hurts to move it," Mizuki whimpered.

  "Then don't move it! Lemme do it!"

  Her interest piqued, Kimiko glided towards the door and held it ajar. On the opposite wall, a flashlight projected the shadow of Sun's hand, contorted into the shape of a Lycanroc's head. The two lay splayed out on the rug on their stomachs, intent on the silhouetted hand moving up and down like a sailboat over ocean waves. They might have stayed there forever, waiting, watching, amused with their own wonder, if she hadn't at last raised her voice.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  "Sun? Mizuki? Where did you get that flashlight?"

  The two jerked their heads around to peer at her in the dark, open-mouthed. The geometric shadows the flashlight drew across their facial features made them appear almost skeletal. Haunted.

  "From the living room," Sun answered, his voice thin with anticipatory shame. He brought his knees to his chest and fumbled for the flashlight; flicked it off. "In the drawers under the TV."

  "No, no, I told you, that's only for emergencies. You're going to drain the batteries, and we won't have it ready for when we really need it."

  "It was just hand puppets," Sun said, wringing his hands together. "Just shadows. 'Sides, we can always just change the batteries if it's really so important to you..."

  It wasn't that she wanted to spoil their fun. In fact, she couldn't find it in her to come take the flashlight from his hands, and if he hadn't been so receptive to her ushering, might have left it with them despite her lecturing. But, regardless, she kissed Sun on the forehead as she always did when tucking him in for bed to signal to him the incident was forgiven, and would be forgotten in due time.

  She stood outside against the door, reminding herself to relax; be mindful. To make herself cognizant of each inhale into exhale into inhale... slow, measured breaths. The kids' chatter revved up again... they never did quit, did they? They never quit, or let up... oh, to be a child again, with endless stamina... without the endless responsibilities. She pressed her hand to her forehead, mired in the stormcloud clumping around her brain - ah, the aspirin she'd taken before must have worn off. Before she knew it, she had returned to the kitchen, slipped another of the oblong red tablets down her throat, and suckled at a lukewarm glass of water to chase it.

  Once she made it to her bedroom, her muscles went slack, and she flopped down on her bed stomach-first. She lacked the strength to push herself onto her back... she couldn't imagine wanting to. Hau'oli's skyline jutted out into the cloudless night sky; office buildings and residential complexes alike studded with windows translucent or opaque. The absence of light soothed her and also made her feel small in its embrace.

  God, he had eyes like the devil.

  God, had any of this ever been worth it at all?

  The sort of question she'd never dare to ask, lest she receive a true answer. When she did at last slip free of the bindings of waking, she dreamed of those forbidden high peaks of Kairis and she dreamed of shadow puppets.

  Perhaps it was out of boredom or suicidality the creature the children called 'Nebby' found themself in Lillie's vessel, wandering the residential hall of the Children of Starlight's compound. At this hour, with her host body's energy so drained and her faculties inhibited, she found herself experiencing difficulties walking straight. Her slipshod gait almost sent her careening into a wall... into a door... sick with power and freedom, she gave into the urge to throw caution to the wind.

  She was standing with her back to one of the doors when it creaked open to reveal a stiff middle-aged woman, her fingers clamped around the door handle. With her vision adjusted to the absolute oblivion, 'Lillie' could make out the grit and grime of a sleepless night collected in the corners of her eyes, and the head of short, frazzled dark hair framing her face.

  "Oh... uh, huh..." - 'Lillie's eyes flicked back and forth - "so sorry, miss... so sorry, so sorry..."

  She put on a smile - her youth misspent at the Foundation had taught her this was what people did when they felt uncomfortable, or pressured to feel uncomfortable.

  "What's the matter with you?! Don't you know what time it is? If you don't get out of my doorway at once, I'll notify security!"

  What time was it - time - time - a construction of human - construction of society, of human - of her - of her - of her -

  'Lillie' slammed the door in the cultist's face, pivoted away, and took another wild step into the hallway. A malevolent, spiny cluster of thoughts pressing in on her - thoughts of her. Her, that black-venom word...

  These triggers didn't always dovetail into thoughts of her - but this was a dark night and a darker age. In waking, Lillie did not possess the wits to avoid these... 'people', whether it be the silver-tongued devil she had met in the cemetery or the silver-tongued devil who had sired the difficult girl. Of course it would be one who called himself a parent who would engage in such evil... one had to be quite a sadist to bring another into this world; or worse, more than one... and then to leave them to become dust... break them, mollify them, to one's will...

  the poor girl. But they did agree on one thing... the rot ate away at all civilization. Even if they did disagree on where exactly it originated... the fracture in morality, the fracture in sanity...

  she wandered in the hallway in circles, breathing in the feeling of having breath, of being; of having fingers to waggle and legs to skip with. If she wasn't afraid of awakening the others - more than she already had - she would have laughed or keened. She certainly had a litany of reasons to do either...

  a litany, that boy, her loss, her mother, her other mother, the both of whom bled together into a beastly black-venom mass of femininity.... her loss.

  She returned to Lillie's room and settled between the covers... the one became two, and the Cosmog found themselves quite soundly back within their own confining body. A new ache settled into them; whether it was physical or otherwise, they could not discern... on the mattress above them, they could hear Lillie's breath hitch as she became herself again as well... still exhausted. Grasping at the edge of her blanket as she fought her lethargy, fought for sleep... if the two had anything in common, it was how this savage world had run them both ragged... not an ounce of compassion for the little weak ones... not a morsel. Goodness cost nothing and nothing was too much for the wicked... nothing at all. Nothing at all.

  Sure, let them all play with their shadows for the time being. Let them hide away in the dark. They'd see what good it brought them.