15. Connection
Kimiko's shocked when her doppelganger brings her a hairbrush.
"I'm out of practise," she says. "Mind helping me out?"
"Um, sure. But aren't you going to tell me about -?"
"Later." She sits down with her back to Kimiko and undoes her pigtails. "Trust me, it'll keep. Right now I just feel like doing something … well, that I used to do all the time. I always loved doing makeovers on myself. I kind of forgot that in the last year, but now … well, I'm reclaiming bits of myself I thought I'd lost. Besides, too much studying turns your brain to jelly, right?"
"Um, okay." Kimiko rises to her knees and takes the brush, pulling it through the hair with long strokes. It's longer than her own, the ends split but the texture much better than when the other Kimiko first arrived in this world. It's not like brushing her own hair at all, even though it should feel that way. As she work the other Kimiko makes a noise in the back of her throat, like a cross between a murmur and a … purr? Weird "What exactly do you want me to do?"
"I don't know. What do you suggest?"
"You're leaving me to make the decision?" She has always been nitpicky about other people doing her hair. Even her mother's most expensive and exclusive hairdressers made her feel like ants were running all over her skull. She prefers doing it herself. Raimundo would call her a control freak – probably has, actually – but she doesn't care. Her hair is hers, and nobody else is getting their mitts on it.
The other Kimiko glances over her shoulder, one corner of her mouth turned up in a wry smile. "I think you know my tastes."
After brushing until the hair is shiny, Kimiko fetches her 'kitbag' of tools. At first she works alone, pulling at tufts and rearranging them, applying slides and pins, sweeping it back off her doppelganger's face and then brushing it forward again, but after a while the other Kimiko starts making suggestions. Kimiko smiles at the other girl's inability to let someone else take total control. This progresses to talk of snipping off the split ends, and a discussion of the best styles they've ever tried. Even though they share most of these styles, their preferences are different, which is a surprise even though it shouldn't be. Kimiko always loved the neon pink explosion of dreds she did last Summer, while her doppelganger favours anything short and dark. This probably stems from her battles with the Shade, although neither of them mentions this. She didn't want anything that could get in her way or be yanked on by an enemy. Kimiko remembers stories of ancient warriors whose necks were broken using their hair.
Eventually the conversation culminates in Kimiko fetching a bowl of hot water and washing her double's hair so they can have a proper go-around.
"Cut?" she says, grubbing around for a steel-tooth comb and finding a pair of scissors.
"Why not?" the other girl shrugs. "This is … fun. I'd forgotten how much fun this could be. How did I forget?"
"You kind of had other things on your mind."
"That's putting it mildly. But still, I can't believe I haven't done anything like this before now. You change your hair all the time, but I've never wanted to in all the time I've been here."
Kimiko smiles at her. "See? This proves you're getting back to normal. This is progress. You're healing. Next thing you know, you'll be begging me for a spare PDA and pretending to be me in online forums." She glances at the inert computer in the corner. "Speaking of which, I have to check my messages."
"Right now?"
She wants to say that she's waiting for more feedback from people about how to keep the doubles from disappearing without bad consequences. She wants to say that technically they've taken enough of a timeout and should get back to work, but somehow the look on her double's face makes her stop.
How much time does she have left? pipes up a little voice; the one that keeps knocking on the closed doors in Kimiko's brain and yelling doubts even though she tries to ignore them and stay positive. She's having fun. How many times has she actually had fun since she got here? How many times has she admitted it? Are you really going to shorten this for her when any second of happiness could be the last one?
That's the point, though. Any second she could disappear; that's why they have to get back to work.
All work and no play makes a condemned person a sucker.
The PDA suddenly seems like an invasion – an intruder, cruel and unwanted, like a huntsman waiting with a shotgun for a flock of ducks. If it delivers more bad news it'll spoil this unexpected little patch of normality in all the weirdness, despite how ridiculous styling her interdimensional double's hair might sound. This is what they've been fighting for. This is important in a way she finds hard to define; connecting with the other Kimiko about something other than magic and butt-kicking.
She feels a stab of defensiveness and turns her back on the PDA. "I guess it can wait." After a while she says, "How about a chignon?"
"I was thinking something more like Trevor Sorbie," the other Kimiko replies, naming a famously quirky salon whose models often emerge looking like poodles or works of modern art. She shakes her head incredulously. "I can't believe I even remember that name."
"You can't change who you are. No matter what happens, you'll always be Kimiko Tohomiko." Wow, does it feel weird saying that. Totally appropriate, but still, weird.
It takes a moment, but the other Kimiko smiles. "I'm really glad it was this world Dashi sent us to."
"Me too. I mean, if you had to be sent anywhere, I'm glad it was here and not, y'know, World of the Bug People or something. Which is why -" She raps her knuckles lightly against the other girl's scalp. "- we have to find a way of keeping you guys around. If nothing else, so Mommy can work on your marriagability and leave me alone."
"No way!"
"Yes way."
"That's cruel and unusual! I hate kimonos. I always get the obi wrong."
"I know."
When they're finished, Kimiko Two examines herself in the mirror. "Wow." She turns her head this way and that.
"Not too shabby, if I do say so myself." Kimiko bites her lip. "Listen, about those scrolls -"
"I'm going to go show this to Clay."
"Huh?" She's startled by the sudden way her double jumps to her feet, cutting her off. "Um, okay, I guess. But seriously, are you going to tell me -"
"When I get back. You tidy up. By the time you're done I'll be ready to explain everything."
"All right, I guess."
The other Kimiko pauses. "Thanks for this. I appreciate … I mean, I really had forgotten … how much I love stuff like this. I guess I'd forgotten how much fashion and hair and things are a part of me."
Kimiko understands. She's often pegged as the techno-geek Dragon; the uber-nerd who dreams in binary and can type so fast her fingers are a blur. She supposes she's always made more of her appearance because of that – to remind herself, if nobody else, that she won't be pigeonholed as 'just' a girl or 'just' a geek. "Hey, you're Kimiko Tohomiko."
"Yeah. That means a lot, coming from you."
"Self-endorsement. Or does this count as stroking my own ego?"
Her doppelganger grins. It's a welcome sight. "Thank you," she says sincerely, and then dashes off.
Kimiko is struck by the depth of that last thank-you. A shiver runs down her spine. Why does she suddenly feel like there's more going on than she knows? Unsettled, she packs her things away and picks up the bowl of sudsy water. When she stands, however, she remembers her PDA and puts the bowl down again so she can ping open her messages.
What she finds makes her breath catch in her throat.
She has been aware of Watchers since she became a Dragon and started exploring the more mysterious side of life. She has never actually met one, though. The temple archives often mention Slayers alongside all the other forces for good operating in the world – one girl per generation born to fight vampires, just like there is always one Xiaolin Dragon per element for each generation, or one Golem Master to make sure whatever golems still remain don't run amuck, or one Dragonsbane sworn to eliminate all evil dragons – something Dojo can be counted on to rage about if the Dragonsbane is mentioned in his earshot. Kimiko knows Watchers mostly by their reputation as stuffy, secretive old men and women who store knowledge the way a sponge stores water, and keep to themselves and their own task of helping each Slayer in her work.
Now, however, she thinks she might have to rescind that opinion. In her inbox is a message from a young woman who claims to be a close associate of the current Slayer, and who offers the expertise of herself and the Slayer's former Watcher. Both are interested in the predicament faced by the Dragons, and the woman writes that they've actually had experience with doppelgangers from other worlds before, and would be very eager to help out in any way they can. Kimiko reads the message with growing delight. The woman asks if they can all meet up somehow – either in America, England or China, depending on which is most convenient and fastest for them to reach based on the other Kimiko and Clay's deterioration. She finishes with an earnest plea to be allowed to help, and provides several phone numbers where she can be reached at various times of the day.
Kimiko's heart soars. This could be it. It's the most solid thing she's received from all the lines she's thrown out, and Watchers have a reputation for excellence in their work. If a Watcher is involved that opens up a whole new door for them, and perhaps the answer is behind it.
"Rai!" she shouts, still staring at the screen but already turning to run into the corridor. There's no way anyone will hear her from here, but she can't keep silent. She's too happy. Weird scrolls or no weird scrolls, she may have solved the problem. Her natural competitiveness inflates as well. "Omi! Clay! Uh, Clays! Kimiko, come back! I have something!"
She has to cross the courtyard to reach the kitchen. As she does so, she passes the door to the Shen Gong Wu Vault. There are noises coming from within. Thinking it might be the others, she dashes inside.
"Guys? Are you in here?"
She pauses at the head of the spiral staircase. Nobody answers, even though she can hear them moving around down there.
"Guys?"
"Aw, hell," mutters a familiar voice.
Kimiko frowns. She opens her mouth to call again, but hears movement behind her. Before she can turn around, someone pinches the back of her neck and warm pain radiates outward from the spot, encompassing her whole body with tingles. Her visions blurs, greys, and then fades out. She isn't even aware of hitting the floor.
When she comes to there's someone next to her, shaking her shoulders.
"Kimiko? Kimiko! C'mon, don't do this."
"Y'shouldn't shake an 'nconscious person," she mumbles. "Might have injuries … spin'l …"
"You're awake." Raimundo sinks back on his heels.
"Well spotted." She pulls herself upright, feeling herself for injuries, but she can move fine, even if her head feels like it's filled with soggy tealeaves and Tabasco sauce, which has trickled into her tear-ducts, making her eyes sting. "What happened?" Things drip back into her mind: crossing the courtyard, coming into the Wu vault, brushing the other Kimiko's hair, checking her messages –
The message!
Her PDA is still in her hand. Even though she was knocked out, her fingers remained tight around it. Her knuckles are white and each joint crunches as she unclenches. The PDA is in screensaver mode – a kitten with giant eyes that keeps winsomely trying to catch a butterfly.
"Rai, I got it!"
"Huh?" He's confused – distracted, too. He keeps glancing at the doorway as though he wants to run through it. "What?"
"I know how to save them! Or I have more than we did before. They've met doubles from alternate realities before – they can help us fix this!" She falters, the last things falling back into place in her mind. Her cheeks prickle with embarrassment. "Uh, why was I unconscious on the floor?"
"Kimiko," Raimundo sways sombrely, "they're gone."
Alarm detonates inside her. "What?"
"Kimiko Two and Clay Two. They're gone."
"What do you mean 'gone'?" Please no. Please don't let them have faded away already; not when this new shred of hope has come to light. Please don't let fate have been that cruel.
But somehow the truth is even worse than that. "They ran away, and we don't have any clue where they went."