Morai lied in bed for a long time, staring up at the ceiling. She felt as though her soul had been taken away from her. She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye to the two people she was the closest to.
"I didn't spend as much time with Light Morai in the end," she whispered to herself. "I'm the reason she's gone, yet she took her fate with nothing but kind words and a smile."
Light filled the room and a few silhouettes appeared in the doorway. Morai didn't make an effort to see who it was or even to get up at all.
"Morai?" a guard called. The prisoner didn't respond. He walked up to her bedside and looked at her, nudging her with his baton.
"Kid? You sick or something?"
"In a way," Morai replied.
"Well, everyone knows you're sick in the head, but what's the matter with you now?"
"I don't know."
"You should see the doctor, then," he said.
"Sure," Morai simply replied.
The prisoner rose from the bed and cleaned herself up before being blindfolded and escorted to the doctor's lab. Morai didn't make any witty remarks or try to fight in any way, which made everyone around her suspicious.
"Good morning, Morai," she heard the doctor's voice eventually say. They must've arrived at the lab.
"Good morning," she said flatly.
"Is something wrong?" he asked. They had been left alone, and he had demanded that Morai be completely free from handcuffs or blindfolds. She simply sat down, resting her head on her hand without saying a word.
"Are you unwell?" he asked again, checking her vital signs.
"I...don't know," she said with a hint of frustration in her voice. "I don't know what's happened to me. I just...don't feel like myself. I don't feel like anything at all, really."
"I see," the doctor replied. "Did something happen?"
It took a long moment for Morai to answer. It was easy to see that something in her had changed.
"I suppose so," she finally said. "It's a bit difficult to explain."
"Take your time. We really do have all the time in the world."
Morai paused for a long moment again, closing her eyes and heaving a heavy sigh. She took one of her old journals and handed it to the doctor, beginning her explanation as he flipped through it.
"A long time ago while I was training my psychic abilities in Galar, I ended up in a place called the Dream Realm, where I met two versions of myself. One of them represented the good in my soul while the other represented the evil, and they made up different parts of my psyche. I called them Light and Shadow Morai. Before she took the serum, Morai—"
"Wait a moment, if you will," the doctor interrupted. "You've just referred to yourself in three different ways. I understand Light and Shadow Morai are in your dreams, but you also just referred to yourself in the real world as a different person. Do you think that the you before you took the serum and the you after are two different people?"
"Yes, and it's true," Moria said. "Let me finish and I'll explain."
The doctor nodded her on.
"Past Morai, as I call her now, was very close to Light Morai in nature and appearance and she hated Shadow Morai. As a result, she couldn't use Shadow Morai's specific psychic abilities, and Shadow Morai herself was weakened. I'm the opposite case. I was nearly identical to Shadow Morai, so much so that I threw the entire Realm of Dreams too far out of balance. When I returned there in my dreams last night, both Light and Shadow Morai's physical forms had been cast into stone, and my past self stood in their place. I witnessed their passing. They were the only friends I had, and the only ones who understood me. We were all connected by our shared soul, yet now those pieces of my soul are gone."
It took the doctor a while to respond, as he was excitedly flipping through pages, comparing Morai's old drawings of the Shadow Morai from her dreams to her current appearance.
"Oh my," he said. "I wish I would've seen this sooner! It's...amazing! Your dreams and the real world influence each other!"
When the weight and meaning of Morai's last words set in, the man paused.
"I'm sorry, Morai," he said with a frown, lowering her journal. "You've lost two people very close to you. As for why you feel this way, it sounds like you're grieving, which is a completely normal response."
"There's a chance that I can get them back," Morai said. "According to my old self, I have to balance my soul back out enough so that the both of them can live comfortably."
That sounds like what we've been trying to do this entire time! the doctor thought. How interesting!
"I see," he said. "May I keep this journal for the time being?"
Morai gave a nod as if she didn't care what happened to it. The doctor offered his condolences and well wishes as well as his willingness to help in whatever Morai needed. She gave her thanks and was escorted out by guards. As she was led blindly down the hall, she heard the notes of a piano. The trainer stopped in her tracks, causing whoever was behind her to bump into her.
"Is that a piano, or am I hearing things?" she asked.
"It's a piano," someone replied. "It came with the place, and we just left it."
"Who's playing it?"
"The boss."
"I didn't think of Arthur as the musical type," Morai said.
"He only plays for Mrs. Sheridan. It sounds like he's coming up with something new for her."
"I see."
Had Morai really attacked his wife? It seemed like so long ago in her mind. Everything seemed so strange and surreal. She went back to her room, but stopped at the door.
"Someone shoot me," she instructed. She didn't hear anyone answer.
"I have a good reason," she said. "I haven't caused any trouble. Do me this favor."
"Well, that's the problem," someone said. "We've got no reason to—"
Morai turned and lunged at what she thought was the source of the voice, but she missed. It was obvious she was faking an attack, but a real attack wouldn't have landed anyway.
"What's the idea?" another guard said.
"I need to sleep again," Morai simply replied.
"I guess it wouldn't hurt."
The prisoner heard the drawing of a gun.
"You ready?"
Morai nodded. She felt a sharp pain in her leg and it wasn't long before she was unconscious. When she opened her eyes, she was standing in the garden's center. The statues of Light and Shadow Morai were still there, much to her disappointment.
"There are easier ways to get here," her past self said. Morai groaned.
"I was hoping it had all been a nightmare," she said, looking from one frozen counterpart to the other. "I didn't even say goodbye."
"That doesn't make their passing any less meaningful," Past Morai said. "They don't have to be gone forever, but I think it's important that we pay our respects in the meantime."
Morai looked at her old self with a sort of resentment, but she agreed. They both swept the stone courtyard, and Past Morai gathered a bucket and rag to clean the sour blood that stained it. Morai stopped her.
"Those are important," she said. "They're memorials of battles fought. It's all that's left of the two of them."
"There are plenty of things they left behind," Dream Morai said with a frown. "Their own blood doesn't have to be one of those things. Much of this was blood spilled in needless violence, not honorable battles. This was meant to be the place where peace was made, where they agreed not to fight. Wouldn't it be better remembered that way?"
Morai hesitantly agreed and they got to work on restoring the stone to its previous reflective state.
"You know, you got Shadow Morai to do something I never expected her to do," Past Morai said. "She admitted love, which is something I didn't even think she was capable of. If she could do it, you can."
"We shared that love because we shared a love of violence and bloodshed," Morai said with a frown. "She wouldn't have told you the same thing."
Once they were done, the two Morais held a small ceremony. For Shadow Morai, Morai weaved two armbands from thin rope and included fabric from both of their clothes. She tied it around her stone counterpart's right arm, while Past Morai tied the other around the left. It was an old tradition from the art that both Shadow Morai and the current Morai favored.
"Come home from whatever war you're fighting now," Morai said.
Such a tradition did not exist in the art that Light Morai and now Past Morai favored, but they still payed respects to their friend and sister. Past Morai placed a crown of her favorite flowers on the statue's head and put her own shawl around its stone shoulders. Two hanging glass lanterns were erected, one by each statue. Just like the roses that had bloomed before, the lantern by Light Morai's side was white while Shadow Morai's was black. Morai and her past self agreed that they would always burn, representing the two spirits that remained in spite of Light and Shadow Morai's absence.
Lastly, the pair returned Light and Shadow Morai's masks to their respective owners. Light Morai had left hers on the ground and Shadow Morai's had fallen from her side in her struggle against the dark fog. Every version of Morai had clips on their belt for carrying masks, and thankfully these clips had been preserved in stone, allowing each mask to be secured back to the belt of its wearer.
"I think that's enough for today," Past Morai said. "You should awaken and face the real world. Please don't reject the memories and opportunities for kindness that you're faced with. That's the first step to regaining balance."
Morai groaned.
"Being kind is not who I am. I'm perfectly polite when I'd like to be, and that's as far as my kindness should go."
Past Morai shook her head, looking to the statue of Light Morai and wishing that she could offer guidance. She was Light Morai's replacement of sorts, after all. She had to act as the counterbalance to Morai's extreme evil and try to steer her back towards good, even if just a little.
"If you remain the way you are, they never have a chance at returning," she said with a frown. "Is one kind act a day too much to ask?"
"A day?! In a prison with people who hate me?" Morai asked, as if the request was completely outlandish and impossible.
"Choosing not to be violent is more than enough," her past counterpart calmly answered.
"That's even worse!" Morai exclaimed. After she woke up and parted from the Dream Realm, her past self slumped to the ground by Light Morai's statue and heaved a deep sigh.
"You were so good at this!" she exclaimed to the smiling marble figure beside her. "Morai's short stay here every couple of days is difficult enough. I don't know how you lived with Shadow Morai in the same garden all day. Morai's just so...evil! She's who I was afraid of becoming, and now I have to watch her wreak havoc in my name. Every time I see her her hands are stained with blood."
Past Morai looked at her stone counterpart a while and sighed again, leaning her head against Light Morai's cold shoulder.
"You accepted the worst fate with grace and a smile. It would be a dishonor to you if I didn't do the same," she said.
As the current Morai felt particularly close to Shadow Morai, Past Morai felt close to her Light counterpart. She closed her eyes and was transported to an older memory. The trainer watched from the sidelines as her and Light Morai engaged in some friendly grappling sparring. Morai froze and looked around.
"Did you hear that?" she asked. "I thought I heard something rustling in the grass."
"I didn't hear anything," Light Morai answered. "Shadow Morai is off training."
Morai blushed in embarrassment.
"It's not that I'm afraid of her," she said. "She's just...hard to deal with. Hard to see and know that she's a part of my soul and psyche. She's so brutal and unhinged."
"I understand," Light Morai said with a smile. "I live with her here. She isn't all violence and bloodshed. She has qualities that make her just as important as I, but she doesn't show them very often. You have to earn her trust and respect."
The real Morai woke up and groaned.
"Kindness?" she whispered to herself. "One kind act a day? That's not who I am!"
"Are you sure?" a voice asked. It was Maria's. Morai shot up from her bed. She was both surprised and disappointed to find that she had woken up in the same hospital room she often found herself in.
"I didn't do anything this time!" she snarled.
"I know," Maria said. "But there are rules in place so that you can be watched while you're unconscious, and Arthur insisted that everyone follow them. I talked him down from tying you up this time."
Morai realized that she could move around but not see, and she had a suspicion that Maria had left her blindfold on purpose.
"Why did you want to sleep again?" Maria asked.
"To dream again," Morai answered. She tried to take her blindfold off, but once again it had been tied too tight and knotted in such a way that even her claws couldn't undo it.
"You must have nice dreams, then."
"No," Morai said. "They've turned into nightmares. But even nightmares where I am alone and free are better than this."
"I can hear you mumbling things in your sleep," Maria said. "Are you really alone?"
Morai tensed up. The thought of her being watched while she was defenseless and unaware made her angry.
"Is watching me sleep a favorite pastime of yours or something?" she growled, getting up from the side of the bed that Maria was on. If Morai's guess was right, she had trapped her in the corner, and that was why she could sense a small increase in her fear.
"Someone has to check on you while you're unconscious, and I just try to keep you company," Maria answered, backing away. "Aren't you hungry? You haven't eaten since I saw you last and that was nearly a day ago. I don't even think you've seen the dining hall since you've been here."
"Oh, I see," Morai said. "It's been a whopping one day since I last attacked anyone and now I can eat in the dining hall? I feel honored."
"Two days," Maria countered. "And maybe we can keep that streak going."
Morai chuckled at the thought and it hurt her ribs. She had forgotten about the injuries she had sustained in the real world. Now that she thought about it, her muscles were stiff and sore, and various aches and pains were spread across her body.
My fight with Arthur was a disgrace, she thought. I want another shot.
The prisoner stretched her arms out in front of her. Her wrists were handcuffed, but she made do. Maria took Morai's hand and she jerked it away.
"What's the idea?" she said.
"Are you going to try and make it to the door yourself?" Maria asked. "It's dark in here and I can barely see."
"Oh...I suppose not," Morai sighed. Maria took her hand again and led her out of the room.
"Hold it!" someone commanded. "Where do you think you're going?"
"The dining hall," Maria answered.
"Not without two of us, you're not!"
Maria sighed and continued to lead Morai along. She had a soft grip, barely hanging onto Morai's wrapped hand. The prisoner wasn't used to such a considerate touch. The guards escorting them along, whoever they were, had likely gotten into brutal fights with her on several occasions. She had never given them a reason to be gentle. Morai had never given Maria a reason to be such a way either, but she still was.
Morai heard the creaking sound of a large door swinging open, giving way to a wave of even colder air. She figured that the dining hall was very large because of such a temperature and the way things seemed to echo throughout the room.
"This is where we part ways again, Morai," Maria said, letting go of the trainer's hand. Morai tried to grab it back, but grabbed blindly at air. Her blindfold was taken off, and the last thing she saw was the closing of the large wooden door and a glimpse of blonde hair swinging through the diminishing gap.
"Wait!" she yelled, running to grab the door and swing it wide open so that she could see the mystery woman she had been talking to. Two pairs of hands wrapped around her arms, dragging her backward before she could accomplish her task.
"Fiddlesticks!" she cursed as the guards unlocked her handcuffs. "What is it with her?"
The prisoner was sat down at a large and impossibly long wooden table. A few guards and nurses whom Morai had never seen before were scattered along the other end. She looked at them with an evil smile, licking her teeth and causing them to scoot even further down.
"Oh, Morai, please," the doctor said, setting his own breakfast tray down across the table with a half-joking sigh. "I can't be the only medical personnel around here! Leave me some help, I beg of you."
Someone came and set a bowl of oatmeal down in front of Morai. It was actually quite appetizing, with various toppings and an iced water to wash it all down. It was close to what she would've eaten if she were free. She was famished and began to shovel food into her mouth a little too quickly.
"You seem in better spirits today," the doctor said. Morai shrugged, unable to speak.
"We held proper ceremonies this time. Wherever my old friends have gone off to, I suppose they're doing well," she finally said after swallowing her mouthful of oats. "I do miss fighting."
"Maybe I could do something about that if you weren't trying to maul everyone that looks at you sideways," the man said with a frown. "I probably shouldn't have brought my cane this time, lest you take it and try to start a one-sided fencing match with your friends over there."
"No one looks at me at all," Morai countered, mixing peanut butter in with the last bites of her oatmeal. "And hide your cane."
"You give them plenty of reason not to," the doctor said. "It's as simple as this. If I lower my eyes to yours, will you hypnotize me?"
Morai looked around for a moment and sighed.
"No," she finally said.
"Do I have your word?"
"Yes," Morai insisted with a hint of annoyance to her voice. The man across from her lowered his deep brown eyes to hers.
"See, it's that simple, really," he said with a slight smile as sipped his tea. "It all depends on trust. Give people a reason to trust you, and they'll look you in the eyes. Isn't it nice?"
"...It is, actually," Morai replied, staring into his eyes.
"Have you forgotten how to look people in the eyes?" he asked with a chuckle. Morai caught herself and looked away for a moment.
"I'm too good at it, actually. At this point the other person is usually under my control and I don't have to follow the etiquette. My staring red eyes are the last image seared into their brain before they wake up in a place they don't know, suffering the consequences of things they've done without their knowledge."
The doctor looked at the prisoner a long moment, then laughed.
"Well, you've certainly forgotten table manners when it comes to discussing such things! It's too early for that kind of talk," he chuckled. Morai looked up to the ceiling and saw that it was raised in the highest and most elegant arch she had ever seen.
If I made it up there to the rafters, I could hide and maybe escape, she thought. Her gaze lowered to the small group of women laughing and sending small remarks back and forth with the guards.
"I got this one from a one-on-one fight," she heard one of the guards say proudly in the distance, putting his boot up onto the table bench and leaning onto his leg. He was pointing at a nasty cut across the nose that Morai had given him. "My sorry partner over there was taken out, and I had to defend him."
Liar...Morai thought. The more I quench it, the more that thirst is getting harder and harder to resist, she thought longingly. Her sharp claws gripped the table. It's already been too long. The doctor is sitting right across from me, but I've got his trust, apparently, and it would be foolish to attack one of the only people in the building who doesn't want me dead. I can't forget Arthur's threat, either...but I don't know how long I can—
"Morai!" the doctor said with a raised voice. It was clear from his tone that he had been trying to get her attention for several attempts. "Is something wrong?"
Morai considered her now seemingly dire situation and her shoulders slumped. She swallowed the saliva that had accumulated in her mouth and leaned forward.
"I can only go so long before my taste for a certain thing becoming unbearable," she whispered. "But I live under a tyrant's threats, and I'll soon walk myself into their fruition if I don't come by some of that sweet substance soon."
The man chuckled at her attempt at secrecy.
"It's not exactly a secret that you have a taste for blood," he said. "How about giving it two more days?"
"Two?" Morai gasped. Her desperation looked almost pitiful. "How about one?"
"Thirty-six hours," the doctor countered. "Thirty-six hours of well-mannered behavior and I can help you." Morai shook her head and hung it in defeat.
"Fine," she sighed, leaning back and putting her head in her hands. The man got up and patted her on the shoulder. She had to admit that she liked being free and out of that dark hospital room, but she would take her thrilling moments of violence and blood over this any day.
First Past Morai tells me to be kind every day, and now I have to go thirty-six more hours before I can do something about this terrible feeling, she thought. I can't let them think they're succeeding, or they'll start to take advantage of my weakness.
