Even on moving day, she had deadlines to meet, so she ordered in and got to work. Captions, product summaries, and vapid articles no-one would ever read, but they helped pay the bills, and she could mostly zone out while she plunked out what the contracts demanded. She lay back on the floor dramatically after pressing ‘send’ on the last assignment, sighing as she looked at the boxes that towered around her. Without sitting up she checked her phone for the zillionth time that day.

  Rosie:

  happy anniversary of me not charging you for nudes!

  Still no reply. She sighed again and decided to start her second job a little earlier for the distraction. She stripped, relishing the loss of each piece of clothing until she was naked. She glided to a box labeled Rosie Pink and opened it. It was filled with pastel pink lingerie, she chose her favourite for tonight, it had been a long day and she needed every little thing to carry her onward.

  She got her webcam set up and cleared the boxes away from the tiny snapshot of its view, causing a smaller stack to tumble over in the process, spilling their contents across the floor. She grumbled to no one as she hurriedly stuffed the boxes again just to get things out of the way, and froze when she realized she was holding an old poetry journal. One of the boxes had been filled with her old writings. She moved a little heavier as she repacked them away, and shoved them into a corner out of sight and out of mind. She refocused on the task at hand and draped a simple but elegant sheet down from the ceiling, just with temporary tacks for the night.

  She logged into her camsite and clicked ‘go live’. She felt lighter as the compliments began to wash over her, but it wasn’t enough, and her eyes kept flicking over to her phone sitting undisturbed next to her laptop. Was it too much? Not sentimental enough? Or too sentimental? She found herself thinking about the year before. He’d been a quiet viewer for months, but tipped after every show he attended, and she found herself wishing he would chat. When he finally did, she was not prepared. It had been a cozy show until a user appeared, lowhung69. The name alone was enough to make her cringe, but he didn’t stop there. He started getting pushy, comment after comment, all variations of “show more,” “be useful,” “don’t waste time.” She rolled her eyes and looked directly into the camera and said: “I did not give you leave to be a dick. You have become a fool, lowhung69.”

  She blocked him, ready to move on, not expecting anything more from chat, and finally, he posted:

  Higara86:

  “and not even pitiable.”

  She tended to weave Tolkien into her daily life, and was used to being ignored, or stared at in confusion. She was not used to being seen. She was not used to being recognized, heard, and validated, and with such simplicity. She broke her first rule for him that night, and messaged him without him tipping for it. “Your Gandalf quote made my night.”

  He’d replied. “I still owe you countless more.”

  They started to message almost everyday… until it was everyday, but he still never talked in chat or booked a private show with her, and he tended to shy away from chats if she veered towards sex. So one day she asked him outright; “are you ever going to book a private with me?”

  They arranged one and he was adorable, but she could tell he was terrified.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to force you into this, you know.” She said eventually.

  He blushed. “You didn’t… I’ve wanted to and I want…” He trailed off, then spoke looking down. “I’ve always been like this.” Her throat went tight. “I don't really know what’s wrong with me I just… I need to really know someone before I can be…”

  Rosie spoke before she thought. “Oh, you’re demi.”

  He looked up blinking. “What?”

  “Demisexual - sorry. It’s not bad, it’s just a type of orientation.” He was quiet and still for a long time, then slowly he brought a hand to his mouth, and she brought both of hers to her own. “Oh my gods…”

  He started crying, and Rosie had never wanted to hug someone more in her life. She was about to start apologizing when he spoke first. “Thank you…” He managed, and Rosie started crying too.

  When the timer ran out, she sent him a refund. No message. Just quietly returned the full cost.

  He declined it without comment.

  When they finally shared intimacy in earnest, Rosie didn’t need to pretend for him.

  A new message popped up, bringing Rosie back to the present, and her heart skipped a beat.

  Higara86:

  ??

  Just a simple rose emoji to let her know he was there. Before she could even exhale however the next comment came in sharp.

  How old are you? Does anyone actually want this old bag? Time to retire bitch

  She was used to it, but the timing of it made it sting. Still, a simple delete, block, and she moved on. She had bills to pay, and she had learned to let comments like that bounce off over time. Instead of letting it pull her down, she used it.

  “Well that wasn’t cute, was it, petals?” She wrapped her thin robe tight around her. “I need your tips to cheer me up.” She winked, and sure enough, they started rolling in. She purred and she slowly loosened her grip on the fabric and let the robe fall loose down her shoulders. More tips rolled in, some paired with requests, others with praise, and Rosie let her head roll back slowly as the requests became more and more salacious. She pulled her bralet down with a coy smile, letting a finger rest too long on her lips, the other on her bare breast. She let out a practiced moan as she arched her back for that perfect angle, and the tip chimes started doubling over themselves. She started to breathe heavy on purpose, slowly letting the hand at her mouth trail down, to her collar bone, her ribs… her belly… and glanced at her laptop screen to see she had reached her quota for the night. She smiled, a real smile, and pulled the robe back on dramatically. “That’s all for tonight, petals. If you want to see more check out my profile, and don’t forget to follow if you’re not already.” She didn’t even have to think as she rhymed off her socials and the rest of her sign off before logging off… and slumping. She felt dejected. Lonely. And just as she started to think about familiar bars and comforting touches from strangers, her phone buzzed.

  S???:

  Can we revisit the rule of me not being allowed to call out losers in chat, please?

  She smiled to herself and slumped again, this time with relief.

  Rosie:

  reviewed and denied! honestly it doesn’t bother me, but it does when u get upset

  S???:

  ??That makes me sad.

  Rosie:

  oh, im sorry!

  S???:

  ?? No! Not like that! Nvm. I’m sorry.

  She didn’t know what to say, but the speech bubble started up not soon after his last message. And stopped. Then started again… and stopped. She smiled again and typed.

  Rosie:

  Video?

  The ring on her laptop started almost instantly. He looked tired, exhausted, and completely, utterly huggable.

  “Hi.” He said dreamily.

  “Hi.” She replied softly.

  They stared at each other's pixel forms for a while before he spoke again.

  “Sorry for not messaging you back earlier.” He said gently.“Your message made me drop my phone in front of two very suspicious sisters, you know.” He teased.

  No need to keep catastrophizing about why he hadn’t messaged her back yet. “Well then mission accomplished!”

  He smiled. “Anyways, congratulations are in order…” He set off a party popper much to her surprise and delight, and goofily smiled at the camera as the confetti rained down on him. “Omedetō! No more basement apartment! Yatta ne!”

  She laughed hard enough that her head tilted back. “Oh my gosh, you’re such a dork.” But she was blushing.

  He laughed with her and the confetti settled. “How did it go today?”

  “Good!” She said brightly. “I think only one thing broke and it was one of my old idols.”

  He frowned. “Oh, that’s sad.”

  “Which one was it?”

  She reached off screen and produced a broken statue. “Nuada of the Silverarm!”

  “Now he’s Nuada of the One-Arm.”

  “That’s what happened actually! Anyways.” She put it back. “I’m not to bothered, I haven’t really had them out since the hospital.”

  “I know, I was hoping that might change.”

  “It’s not a good look when I tell people I believe in fairies, especially when I’m already crazy.”

  “Bara-chan.” He scolded, and she smiled before gasping in false offense.

  “Don’t use your dad voice on me, sir!”

  He blushed. “I’m sorry, it slipped out. But don’t call yourself crazy, please.”

  She turned away smiling. “How are the boys?” She asked suddenly to change the subject.

  “Good! I mean, Hiro’s good, and he makes it known when he’s not.” Then he got quiet and far off.

  “And Kenji?” She prodded gently,

  “I suppose he’s good. I… hope he’s good. He’s so quiet.” Suddenly he tensed and blushed. “You um, you don’t have to do that by the way.”

  “Do what, care about your life?”

  He winced. “Any good writing lately?” He asked after a shy hesitation.

  “Nah.” She lay down on her side and propped herself up on an elbow. “Just the same pay per word nonsense.”

  “I miss your poems.” He blurted. “I mean, I enjoy the ones you shared. So far.”

  She felt her skin flare and knew she was bright pink. She lay on her back to try and hide it. “Thanks.” It got quiet, and when she peeked at the screen he had a soft look on his face. She didn’t know where the courage came from, and she spoke before she could overthink it. “I could write one for you… for us… maybe.” She flicked her eyes to the camera. “If you want.”

  She looked back at the screen in time to see him inhale sharply. “I… yeah. Okay. It would make me happy.”

  She smiled. “Might take all night.”

  “My boys are at their aunts’.” He said, voice full. “I wanted to spend new years with you again, anyways.”

  She felt something blooming low in her stomach and giggled, feeling overwhelmed by his sincerity. “You’re so romantic without even realizing it, you know.”

  She worked on the poem on and off, setting the mood to make it feel more magical with tea and music.

  “Enya or Kalafina?” She asked him playfully.

  “Are those… people?” He asked with a meek smile.

  Her smile in return was mischievous. “Your niece would be so disappointed in you.” She teased. “Enya is a people, yes, we’ll go with that. Okay so, I love the syllable style of haikus but they’re too short for me.”

  “You could try a waka.”

  “Oh, what’s that, School?”

  He beamed. “A waka is a different form of traditional Japanese poetry. Older than haikus and more emotional most times. Kind of more a confession.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Well isn’t that just perfect.”

  Eventually the sun rose in Toronto, and Rosie read the poem out loud.

  “The last line might actually be eight syllables.”

  “English.” He rolled his eyes playfully.

  “My winter songbird

  I long for night to meet day

  With the Spear of Lu

  Pierce the blush stained sky between

  Lost mornings and cold evenings”

  The power went out the moment the last syllable left her lips. She was simply annoyed at first but when she picked up her phone it was dead, too. “What the…” she looked around and noticed it was everything in her apartment, even things that weren’t plugged in like her phone. Then she looked outside, and noticed all the power was still on across the street. She started to feel uneasy when her phone lit up. The colour was a pale purple, and the light pulled inwards, seeming to pool, then spin. Rosie dropped the phone instinctively and jumped away. It landed on the floor face down, the light grew and grew and suddenly dimmed. Then Rosie heard a muffled voice.

  “Oh my. Hello?” Rosie rolled her eyes at herself and what she guessed was just a spam call. She grabbed the phone and when she lifted it, a tiny, pixelated being plunked onto the floor where it had been, shaking her little head. “That’s a bit better!” She stretched, and when she did little wings popped out of her back, and she turned to admire them. “Oh! How cute! It’s been a while since I was summoned by a human, what a cool form!”

  “You just came out of my phone!?” Rosie was just eyes over some old boxes she had decided to use as defence.

  “I work with what I have- goodness just look at your eyes! They’re so big and beautiful! Oh, you’re going to break their hearts just by blinking!”

  Rosie emerged. “What are you talking about?”

  “What do you mean?” They stared each other down a moment before Pixiko went on in a tone that implied it was obvious. “You evoked your Siren powers from the Realms Between, so, here I am! Your familiar!” She stood with her chest puffed out, arms on her hips, but it faded quickly. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about do you.” Rosie shook her head. “Oh dear… how rare is magic these days?”

  “Magic?!” Rosie echoed.

  The sprites’ smile deepened. “Yes, dear, magic.” She took some littler steps forward as Rosie did the same, then she rose effortlessly on her wings and brought herself to Rosies’ eye level. “Here, instead of explaining, let me show you.” She drew a circle with her finger leaving a trail of what looked like pink kettle steam in its wake. The steam swirled and grew around a soft yellow light seemingly coming from nowhere until it was as large as a doorway…

  “Your realm awaits, Siren.”

  Rosie thought she might be losing her mind but it was too wondrous not to continue. She took a step into the light, and it enveloped her with warmth and a sensation like pop fizz all along her skin. Her three dollar lingerie from TEMU transformed into the softest fabric, seamless, as though made of petals. When the light dimmed and the mists receded, her apartment was gone. The floor beneath her was a pearlescent glass, translucent, and beneath it metallic mists pulsed with pinks and golds. Around her the world seemed endless, a sunrise sky expanding above her and pink petals drifting down from nowhere. Pixel affirmations hung in the air, seemingly distant but when she reached out to touch them the words rearranged into a new mantra. Pixiko reappeared beside her. “Welcome!” She announced. “To the Blush Realm.”

  Rosie exhaled. “It’s amazing.” She took the sprite in without fear. “And what do I call you?”

  “I'm Pixiko! Your familiar!”

  Rosie shook her head. “I don’t…” She laughed. “I still don’t understand.”

  “You recited an evocation, and honestly I’m surprised you turned out to be an amateur, your delivery was flawless!”

  “So… I’m… a Siren?”

  “Indeed! Your magic came from deep within your soul, and your first act was a summoning!”

  “You?”

  “No dear, the winter songbird, from your poem-”

  “Oh my gods!” Rosie panicked. “I was in the middle of a date… sort of. Can I check my phone in here?” She was already checking when Pixiko said ‘yes’. She had half a dozen texts from him asking if she was okay.

  Pixiko swooped in close, her voice full of mischief. “Want to bring him here?”

  Rosies’ face dropped. “What?!” Pixiko was already waving her finger like before. “No, wait!” But it was too late. A swirl of snow kicked up and when it receded… he was there. Messy brown hair, simple dark green cardigan over a simple white tshirt, and his eyes, his soft, caring, deep brown eyes… were darting around in panic.

  “Nani?! Kokowa?!” He exclaimed, chest rising and falling quickly and getting quicker.

  Rosie shot Pixiko a glare that caused her to wilt slightly before softening her face and lifting her arms towards him. “It’s okay! You’re safe!”

  He turned his head towards her slowly, bewildered. “Rosie?!”

  She couldn’t help but smile as she nodded slowly. “Yeah.” She took a timid step forward. “Yes.”

  For a fraction of a second a peace washed over his face, but it was fleeting, and the panic set back in. “Where are we? What’s going on?”

  “Would you believe me if I told you the poem cast a spell to meet you?”

  “Like an utamakura.”

  “Oh, obviously.” She agreed despite not knowing what that meant.

  “A place word, they’re common in wakas. Usually the place comes first but… it’s almost like you created this space around the word.”

  “Which one?”

  “I would guess ‘long’, or ‘longing’.”

  “Yeah.”

  He finally smiled at her, and she almost melted right there. He took his own step, and slowly, as if fighting a wind neither could see, he raised his arm towards her. Her breath caught and she lifted her own hand, and stepped forward until their fingers just barely brushed. When they did he let out a sound like a half-sob half-laugh, and pushed his fingers between hers. “Bara-chan…” He whispered, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from filling with tears.

  “I’m here.” She said. “I’m real.” They moved in slowly, as though still afraid, but finally like they couldn’t bear it anymore they closed the last distance with near desperation and held each other tight.

  “I can’t believe it.” He cried.

  She squeezed her eyes shut causing the tears to spill over, and she buried her face deep in his shoulder. “Souta…” She breathed, and he crumbled. It had been a long time… such a long time since anyone had said his name like that. With tenderness weaved into the sound. He closed his eyes and exhaled from so deep in his ribs, a breath he’d been holding since before he could remember. Their foreheads touched, and just as Rosie braced herself to kiss him, he froze.

  Souta shook his head incredulously. “How do we know this is real? Or safe? Or that I can get home?” The panic started to swim back in “I need to go home. My boys… Send me home, please. Can you even send me home?” He started to panic in Japanese, and Pixiko glided gently close with her hands up, tiny fingers splayed.

  “I can, I can! Just… breathe, dear!”

  He exhaled, then realized Rosie was holding his hands and looked at her apologetically. “Gomen- I’m sorry.” He said.

  She shook her head. “Don’t be. We’ll try and figure out what this is and… we’ll see.” They both smiled gently, and their foreheads just touched as snow and wind swept up and stole Souta away again.

  Rosies’ phone buzzed and she grabbed it.

  S???:

  I seem to know the date, where I live, my name and the names of my babies. So last thing to check; please tell me you remember… that.

  Rosies’ breath caught in her throat, and her fingers were trembling as typed out her confirmation. They arranged to meet on Saturday while his kids were with their aunt and cousin.

  Saturday. She hummed to herself as her own pink mists swirled around her until it was thick enough her view of the realm was obscured. She felt a sudden heaviness drop into her bones, but it was familiar, and when the mists receded, she was back in her apartment. It felt… distant, but fortunately, or unfortunately, Rosie knew the feeling well. She exhaled all her breath, all of it, until her own lungs felt like they’d been vacuum sealed before taking in fresh air, slow and steady through the nose and holding it for just long enough to feel the rush of it, then exhaled gently through tensionless lips, then lay down on the floor.

  The ceiling was waterstained and crooked, and real, and hers, and she loved it. She felt the floor beneath her, cold and real, and noticed her thoughts drifting to the box of idols she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of but neither to display and decided to bring them out where she good see them, here in her home… but not yet. For now, she continued to sink into her own body, into the creaky old floor, and let the rumble of the passing streetcar remind her of the ugly, beautiful things she had here, as well as the fantastical, unfathomable thing she had somewhere she couldn’t even name.

  Souta had never felt so heavy, or lethargic, or big, and he had always been big. He splashed his face with cold water, and it helped a bit, but mostly his mind was racing faster than ever before in his life. Magic… is real. Magic is tangible. Rosie is magic… Rosie. He was torn between the most amazing mystery in human history and the most wondrous thing he’d ever experienced. The smell of the realm, the feel of Rosies’ skin, the warmth of her expression, were all intertwined with existential dread about having being teleported to somewhere between reality and… Canada.

  He pulled every book he had that had anything to do with myth and folklore and read until Saki returned with Kenji and Hiro.

  He tried to act normal but knew he failed the moment he saw their faces.

  Kenji looked confused, Saki looked suspicious, and Hiro made it all worse.

  “You look goofy!” He said, and Souta blushed before smiling.

  “You’re the goofiest!” Souta replied, picking Hiro up.

  “Oh! Wait! My move, right?” Hiro wriggled out of Souta's arms and ran to their never ending game of go. “You didn't move- oh my gosh did I beat you? Is it happening?!”

  “Oh, no I just forgot.” Souta walked over and casually placed a pebble that cause Hiro to cry out in a dramatic show of defeat.

  “I will defeat you!”

  “I look forward to it!” Souta looked around then and saw Kenji had already placed his bag and was busy changing the Ofuda around the house. “Hi Kenji.” He turned and smiled, but it was forced. “I can help you with that in a bit, Kenji.”

  “It’s okay.” He replied without looking over.

  Souta sighed. “So, how was new yours for everyone?” He continued.

  “Good!” Saki said. “How much sugar did I let you have, Hiro?”

  “Oh, papa,” he looked at his father devilishly. “All the sugar.”

  Souta started like he was going to grab Hiro and he yelped and laughed before running off. Then he turned back to Saki. “Thanks for taking them.”

  “You’re welcome, by the way Emi was hoping she could come over on Saturday for help with her University applications.” She spoke while getting ready to leave, but stopped when she saw the panic on Souta’s face. “Oh, unless… you had plans?” Her expression was coy, and Souta swallowed nervously.

  “No, just… was planning on getting work done, that's all. But, yes, of course she can.”

  “Mmhm…” Saki hummed accusingly.She turned to leave, but before she did she called to him over her shoulder, “...goof.” She looked at him sideways and Souta knew he was done. “See you for lunch on Monday?” She called slyly.