Days passed, and Kyuu’s speech improved faster than anyone expected—though “anyone” mostly meant Yura, who now operated in a permanent state of tired amazement and reluctant pride. She’d wake up to Kyuu sitting perfectly still, mumbling words to herself like she was chewing on them. “Chair,” “book,” “water,” “again.”
By the end of the first week, Kyuu could string together full thoughts. Mostly small things, “Orby’s sleepy” or “Yura too loud” or “Food not good” but the structure was there. Mizue seemed satisfied.
Which made what came next a little surprising.
Instead of another speaking lesson, Mizue had Kyuu sit at the center of the room alone, a wide open space cleared around her. Orby floated nearby. Yura sat off to the side with a notebook, half-asleep doing her homework.
Mizue stood in front of Kyuu, staff in hand but resting it like a cane. Her tone was different today. Less teasing. More… curious.
“All right,” she said. “No more vocabulary. I want to talk about you now.”
Kyuu blinked. “Me?”
“You. Orby. Where you come from. What you are. For now, lets start with what you remember.”
Kyuu looked down, then up, then at Orby. “I… wake up. Then walk. Picked up. Eat. Here.”
Mizue tilted her head. “That’s it?”
Kyuu nodded slowly. “No more.”
Mizue crouched in front of her, eyes sharp. “Do you remember being made?”
Kyuu frowned. “Just… wake up?”
Mizue tapped her fingers together. “And Orby. What do you know about it?”
Kyuu turned to look. Orby wobbled gently in the air.
“Orby follows. If I…” She paused, trying to find the word. “Point. And want. Orby eats.”
“Eats?”
Kyuu nodded. “Takes thing. Makes it go inside.”
Kyuu gestured with her hands like a toddler.
Mizue turned to her desk and, with a simple gesture, levitated a ceramic bowl from the clutter. She suspended it midair and floated it a few feet in front of Kyuu, letting it come to rest gently on the floor.
She stepped back and folded her arms.
“Okay,” she said. “Show me what happens. Like you said—point, and want. This time, try to see what it feels like.”
Kyuu raised a hand. Her finger extended toward the bowl.
Orby reacted instantly.
In less than a blink, it ripped through the air like a projectile, shifting mid-flight, expanding like a predator opening its mouth ready to consume.
Before the bowl could even reflect the glow of its surface, Orby slammed into it.
With a single, fluid motion, it wrapped around the bowl, enclosed it completely in a gelatinous grip, and then—
Folded inward.
Its surface compressed and collapsed over itself, swallowing the bowl in one seamless gulp.
A loud, wet shllrp echoed through the room.
The bowl was gone. No fragments. No struggle. Just… devoured.
Mizue’s eyes narrowed—her smile gone, replaced by analytical focus.
Even Yura jumped up in her seat, staring wide-eyed. “W-what was that?! It just—it just ate it!”
“Too clean,” Mizue muttered, more to herself. “Too fast.”
She turned back to Kyuu. “Did you feel it?”
Kyuu nodded slowly, rubbing her temples. “Same. Feel… full. Like… thing go in. Not learn, but… is inside.”
Mizue crouched slightly, keeping eye contact. “Like a memory?”
Kyuu frowned. “No. Not memory. Not mine. Orby’s. But… I feel.”
Mizue stood, brushing dust from her coat.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s try something else.”
Kyuu blinked.
“I want you to do it again,” Mizue said. “But this time—don’t point. Don’t pick a thing. Just… remember that feeling. Recreate it. Focus on recreating that feeling when Orby eats.”
Kyuu hesitated, then closed her eyes.
Her breathing slowed. Her fingers curled slightly.
She thought of the pull. The stretch in her head. The distant fullness—not hers, but near hers. She thought about Orby’s movement, about how it wrapped and crushed and swallowed.
The air around her trembled.
Orby twitched. Once. Twice. Before violently exploding.
A massive bloom of slime exploded into the air, radiating outward in all directions.
Dozens of tendrils whipped through the air, slick and lashing toward Yura, Mizue, the bookshelves, the ceiling, even the walls and floor.
It hovered in midair, ready to consume everything.
Yura screamed.
“WHAT IS IT DOING—PLEASE STOP STOP STOP!”
Mizue’s expression darkened.
Her fingers moved with a snap so heavy it threatened to break sound itself.
A dense barrier was created, forming a tight seal around the entire mass of slime.
The writhing ooze slammed into the barrier with a loud WHMPH, recoiling, stretching, smashing against the containment.
Mizue’s arms were extended now—visibly straining, her fingers twitching to hold the construct in place.
Kyuu remained frozen, eyes still closed, fists clenched.
Mizue marched across the floor, picked up a leather-bound book without looking—
—and smacked Kyuu on the head.
Kyuu flinched in pain. “Ow…!” Tears forming in her eyes.
Instantly, the mass inside the barrier snapped inward, collapsing into a single orb again with a loud flllop, its body rippling and unsteady.
Kyuu looked up at Mizue with wide teary eyes.
Before she could speak again—bonk.
Another light smack to the head.
“Ow…”
Orby flared hot pink and floated upward, vibrating with clear frustration. It tried to escape but remained trapped in its box.
Without a word, Mizue lifted one hand and began compressing the barrier, slowly, deliberately.
Orby was crushed inwards, squished like a stress ball, unable to wobble in protest.
Mizue turned, totally casual now.
“Class dismissed.”
