For the second time in less than an hour, I found myself falling on the ground in a strange place. This time, Nameless wasn’t even polite enough to drop me on my butt. Instead I landed belly down on a patch of scraggly grass. A groan rose up beside me, and I turned my head to see Franchesca in a similar position. “Itai,” she muttered, pushing herself up. I did the same, brushing myself off.

Wait.

Where were my jeans?

I shot upright, patting myself down. It was real. I was wearing a dress. And not even a very nice dress. A simple, muddy green color made from homespun wool, it was cut like something you would see on an unnamed peasant extra in a period drama. Franchesca was rising up next to me, clearly noticing the same thing. She sucked in a breath and yanked once at the dust-blue fabric. “Seriously? Seriously?! Nameless you asshole, that dress cost me 7,000 yen!” She glanced at my feet, visible under the half raised hem of my dress and yanked up hers as well. Her pretty blue eyes bulged and she glared at the sky. “Forget the dress, those pumps were 15,000! Give me back my money you bastard! Yarô! Kutabare!” She slipped into a flurry of Japanese cursing.

I wasn’t screaming at the sky, but I was pretty pissed off. Did he even know how much a pair of Harley-Davidson combat boots cost? Or the leather jacket? My jeans were new and my T-shirt was a Litograph. He just poofed more than five hundred dollars out of existence. My fist clenched and I reached down and snatched off one of my thin brown leather slippers. I hurled it with all my strength against a tree. I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath. Then another. I walked slowly toward the tree and retrieved my shoe. I stood back up slowly, stiffly. And then I launched the stupid thing again. Give me back my boots goddamnit!

I had just put the shoe back on, again attempting deep breaths, when I heard a male laugh inches from my ear. I spun around, but no one was there. I looked around suspiciously, but the only person I could see was Franchesca, shrieking Japanese expletives at the top of her lungs.

“Throwing your shoes isn’t going to get you anywhere love.” Nameless’s voice came again and again I whipped around looking for him.

“Where the hell are you?” I spat, not seeing him.

A huff of laughter. “Looking for me won’t help either. I’m talking to you in your head, not your ear. The human mind just isn’t sure how else to process it. Now why don’t you get lovely Miss Yamada to stop screaming so I can give you two a bit of advice, hmm?”