Throws aside Christmas decorations, wrapping paper, and homework and gasps for air.
I LIVE!!!!!!!
Here's your new chapter.
Chapter 21
She blinked twice and sat up.
White fog drifted lazily around her, cloaking an invisible floor.
She stood up and looked around. There was nothing but white fog and matching whiteness in every direction, stretching into infinity.
She turned in a slow circle, straining to see anything other than pristine nothingness.
Nope, nada.
It suddenly occurred to her that the fog was very cold. She jammed her hands into her pockets and was shocked to find that she didn't have any.
She was stark naked.
Where the hell are my clothes? She thought frantically to herself, covering her exposed chest with her arms. Did that bastard rape me or something?
No, she felt fine. Just cold. And naked.
She wished she had her clothes.
Immediately the fog in front of her parted to reveal a smooth white and brown marble floor and a familiar set of clothes.
After a moment of hesitation, she bent and picked up the surprisingly warm garments. It was too cold to be overly suspicious of dry clothes.
Once she had taken the last article of clothing – her right boot – from the floor, the fog rushed to fill the empty bit of marble.
Even with the clothes on she was still cold. She hunched her shoulders and stuck her stiff hands into her pockets.
"Wish I had a jacket," she mumbled.
The tendrils of mist separated again and offered a plain black canvas coat with soft brown lining. She took it.
It was deliciously warm and felt wonderful on her bare arms as she slid it on.
It was also clean she noted with an approving sniff at the sleeve. It smelled of human laundry detergent – the good kind, not the cheap stuff – some kind of artificial human perfume – aftershave or soap, maybe – and someone's natural scent. Overall, an extremely satisfying piece of covering.
She slipped her hands into the pockets and shivered contentedly.
Okay.
Now that her being cold situation had been dealt with, she could focus on other things.
Like where the hell she was. Or what had happened.
She looked around again and tapped at the ground with her foot. Wherever she was wasn't in Human World – not with icy cold mist that could affect her fire apparition blood and hidden marble floors that accommodatingly spit up anything that one wished for.
Spirit World, perhaps?
Yes, this was exactly the kind of room that Koenma would have in his ridiculous castle.
"Hello?" she called.
"Hello?"
"Hello?"
"HELLO?"
"HELLO?"
The echoes of her shout rang throughout the whiteness, getting louder each time until it shook the room.
"Okay, okay," she muttered, hands clapped over her ears. "I get it. You don't like me yelling. Fine, now stop making so much noise."
The thunderous noise stopped.
She most definitely wasn't in Spirit World, Koenma and his overly nosey assistants would've been swooping in to see what had been making all the racket by now.
Was she dead?
She closed her eyes and reached within herself.
Her energy pulsed around her heart in the demon version of a heartbeat.
Nope, not dead.
Could she possibly…could she possibly in her own head?
"Alya?" she whispered. "Are you here?"
Nothing happened.
She sighed.
How did one know if they were in their own head?
Ah, the mirror!
The Self Mirror she had seen before when she had been unconscious…how many days ago had that been?
If she could call one up that would mean she was in her own head.
Which would mean her real body was laid out unconscious somewhere.
"Ummm," she began self-consciously. "Can I see my Self Mirror? I wish I could see it."
There was a sudden bubbling at her feet, as though the mist was boiling in midair, and the top of a gilded mirror arose from the mist.
She backed up as the Self Mirror continued to grow and the mist retreated to create a clean space of a marble floor. Finally, the she stood in a ten foot circle of mist-less floor alone with the mirror.
Well, that answered the question of where she was.
It also answered the question of what had happened to her.
She had been knocked unconscious and was thus stuck in her head until she regained consciousness.
She closed her eyes and tried to wake up.
She opened her eyes, hoping to see Rai and It duking it out.
No such luck.
She was still in her mind with the mirror.
"What are you doing?"
She turned back to the mirror to see a tiny version of herself no older than four or five with her hands clasped behind her back looking up at her older self curiously.
"Nothing. Why do you ask?"
"Just wanted to ask."
"Why?"
The little girl shrugged. "Who are you?"
She pushed her hands deeper into her pockets and shook her head. "No one important. Who are you?"
"My name is Niira."
"That's a good name. Strong and beautiful."
She jumped and spun around to see Alya come striding towards her and the mirror through the thick mist.
The younger version of herself looked from her to Alya, back, then back again. "Who are you?"
The spirit grinned. "I'm the Sky Dragon."
Little Niira eyed her dubiously. "You don't look like a dragon."
"Looks can be deceiving."
"That's what my dad's always saying," Niira complained. "Why can't things just be like they look?"
Alya shrugged and smiled gently. "Because life isn't so simple."
The apparition scowled darkly before asking, "Are you very strong?"
"A bit. I can hold my own."
"What about you?" the young girl turned sharp crimson eyes on her older self.
"I haven't lost yet."
There was an uncomfortable silence.
Suddenly, Niira's head snapped up and around, looking back into the indistinguishable backgrounds of the mirror behind her.
"My father is calling me," she explained. "Good bye."
And then she was gone into the vagueness of the mirror.
Alya smiled after her. "Quite a young lady, wouldn't you say?"
She wasn't interested in idle chit-chat. "What the hell is with you? First, you freak out and nearly split my head open after I nearly shake hands with a Grim Reaper, you don't speak to me even when I'm fighting perverted bastard twice my size and strength and now you're acting like nothing ever happened?!"
Alya looked rather stunned.
"Well?!"
"Child, I think you are getting hysterical."
Her voice went deadly cold and fierce. "This isn't hysteria. This is me severely pissed off."
Alya's face darkened. "Why should I tell you, who doesn't even know who she is, who I am?"
"That's usually what happens to people who have amnesia."
"People who take the trouble to make my acquaintance don't generally suffer from amnesia."
"Most people aren't me."
"And who are you? Are you the young woman everyone says you are? Will you really accept what everyone says to you?"
She felt like tearing a chunk of her hair out and it took a great deal of her control to keep herself from raising her voice. "I know who I am. I just don't remember my past."
"Is it not your past that makes you who are?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"A pertinent one. Who are you?"
"I'm me."
"Forgive me," Alya said coldly. "But I did not swear myself to a 'Me'."
"What the hell are you spouting?" Don't raise your voice, don't lose your calm.
"You may have accepted that the others know that you are Niira but you do not accept it yourself."
"Of course I-"
"Do you? At the core of your being do you call yourself Niira or are you simply yourself?"
She was no longer angry – just bemused. "There's a difference?"
"Of course there is. You are Niira. You have made that name mean something, not the other way around. Even if you change your name at your core you will always be Niira. Now, tell me, child. Who are you?"
"Niira. I'm Niira."
Alya smiled enigmatically. "That's right."
The mist around them bubbled and shot up into the air like geysers. In moments all she could see were walls of mist –
Now darkness –
Now images… flashes of faces that she could suddenly name, places she remembered going to, fights she had won… Her life.
Power surged through her veins.
Niira opened her eyes.
Okay. Stupid chapter. But now we're on to Niira kicking ass!
Review!!