Two Souls, One Story

Luna Awakens

When she opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling, in an unfamiliar bed, she didn't so much as blink. Just another stress-induced "I have 10 assignments due this week" dream. Last week, a giant crab blob chased her down an endless winding staircase.

Time to see what'll chase her this time around. Maybe she'll see a cell phone and trigger The Grudge. Her dreams were always elaborate and detailed, down to brands on random objects to the type of wood used on cabinets. Seeing Japanese-style architecture was a lovely change of pace.

She got out of bed. Odd. She could feel the tatami. See her feet.

'I only see my feet in chase scenes.' She thought to herself, not bothering to open her mouth. You don't talk in dreams. Your voice projects out of you. You hear nothing, your brain just tricks you into thinking you hear things.

At the same time, she felt that something was missing. Like she had forgotten something important. It’ll come back to her when she wakes up. It always does.

She walked out of the room and into a hallway, tatami swapping for wood. It was only halfway down did she notice another strange event. 

The camera was steady. Very rarely will her dreams be still and focused. Always blurring, always changing. No, this was smooth.

She reached the restroom without realizing that was where she went. Oh great, where's The Grudge's son? Toshio! Come out here you meowing lil’ freak so I can punt a bar of soap at your head!

Then she turned around and spotted a mirror. In it, she was face-to-face with pale blond hair, large eyes with minuscule blue irises, and… masculine everything.

Flat chest, sharp face, broader shoulders. 

A man.

Well, this was unpleasant.

He looked familiar, but she couldn't put a finger -why is his finger moving with hers?- to it. Well, whatever. Time to wake up, grab her piplup plushie and alter to a happier dream. Maybe one where she Christmas shops for her friends, she needs inspiration before the winter rush.

The girl closed her eyes, inhaling sharply, then opened her eyes.

The man stared at her with equally wide eyes.

…

 That was another first.

She tried again, and again. Then she reached up and pinched the most sensitive spot on her face, the skin between her nose and upper lip.

The man in the mirror made the same stupid face. She let go of her face.

"No…" Her voice was deep and the man's mouth moved too. Too deep. She looked at her hands with long, skinny, pale fingers. Blond hair swept down from the side and finally coated half of her vision. She looked at the mirror again. "No... No no no no!"

She was looking at Izuru Kira. Her favorite character in the Bleach franchise.

Her mind began to flash. Meeting her friend for the first time, the sweet taste of her drink, the cracking of her neck as she mimicked Aizen’s movements, the freaky bus driver with a dual voice and empty eyes. The rage that broiled within her when her friend went missing. The man’s words.

“You are dead.”

“No!” She dug her fingers into the short blond hair, pulling at it. It was a wig, it had to be a wig! She wasn’t dead and neither was her friend! This was a dream! It had to be an elaborate dream! 

There was no way she was in the Bleach world. There was no way she was Izuru Kira. 

“You won’t have a say in who you wake up as, but you’ll have your memories.”