Kaley's first outing into the real world was a disaster waiting to happen. Naturally, it happened.
It began with a walk.
Her mother—dressed like someone trying very hard to look casual and not "paranoid about raising a baby-shaped singularity"—held Kaley's hand as they wandered through the quiet part of the local park.
No crowds. No noise. Just geese, wind, and an unreasonable amount of breadcrumbs.
Kaley squinted at a squirrel.
The squirrel squinted back.
The squirrel blinked first.
"That's right. Fear me."
Her mother chuckled softly. "Try not to pick a fight with the wildlife today, sweetheart."
Kaley turned her head up, grinning like she had absolutely no intention of doing any such thing.
Her mother offered her a juice pouch with one hand while subtly nudging away a small flock of pigeons with the other.
"You know," her mother murmured, kneeling to adjust Kaley's hoodie, "this is supposed to be the part of childhood where you chase butterflies, not accidentally reverse gravity."
Kaley slurped the juice pouch with extreme innocence.
"I have never broken Newton's laws on purpose."
They made their way down the path, Kaley swinging their joined hands with exaggerated, deliberate rhythm. Left, right, left—like she was trying to match the timing of some ancient march she vaguely remembered from a dream.
Her mother glanced at her sidelong. "You're humming again."
Kaley blinked. "Am not."
"You're vibrating."
Kaley stopped swinging her arms. "Am not."
"You are. In the key of dissonant Void."
Kaley looked down at herself.
She was vibrating. Just a little.
"…Oops."
Her mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose like someone who had emotionally prepared for this very moment.
"Alright, Kaley. No channeling interdimensional runes while we're around civilians. Remember what I said."
Kaley recited it dutifully. "No glyphs. No glowing. No floating. No phasing. No strange languages that taste like static."
"Good girl." Her mom gave her a kiss on the forehead and stood.
Kaley tried very hard to focus on not glitching through reality in public.
She almost succeeded.
On the other side of the park, balanced atop the curved arch of an old slide, another girl watched.
She looked about Kaley's age—somewhere between two and three—but held herself with the stillness of someone who had learned to hide long before she'd learned to speak.
Tattered clothes. Bare feet. Dirt-smudged cheeks. And those eyes—too wide, too gold, too hungry.
Himiko Toga.
She didn't know why she stopped moving. She never did.
But today felt... different.
There was a sound. A pressure. Something soft and sharp all at once. Like a wire humming in her chest.
And then—
She saw her.
The girl on the path. Her age. Her size.
But glowing.
Not bright. Not burning. Just…
Different.
Like the sun had forgotten a piece of itself and left it behind.
Toga's breath caught. Her fingernails curled around the edge of the slide.
Kaley didn't see her.
Not at first.
But she slowed.
She looked up.
And for one heartbeat—their eyes met.
Golden to golden.
Toga's heart fluttered. Kaley blinked.
Then smiled.
Crooked. Curious. Real.
And for the first time in her short, jagged life, Himiko Toga felt something she didn't have a name for.
Not love.
Not curiosity.
Something between.
And she wanted more.
Kaley's mother tugged her gently forward, never noticing the girl on the slide.
But Kaley did.
She looked back one more time.
Her mother noticed the pause. "What is it?"
Kaley didn't answer right away. Just stared into the trees.
"…Someone's watching."
Her mom crouched, resting both hands on Kaley's shoulders. "Is it danger?"
Kaley shook her head.
"No. Just important."
Her mom frowned faintly. But nodded. "Alright. Let's keep walking."
The glyphs in Kaley's mind shimmered.
Blood. Mirror. Hunger. Spark.
Kaley blinked.
"Oh no," she thought. "She's going to be important."
She didn't know how.
But the Void did.
And somewhere deep inside Himiko's bones—
Something began to hum.