Saya stepped out of the dim, cushion-filled room into the blinding brightness of the outside world. The transition was so abrupt it was like walking from a cozy, candle-lit library straight into the middle of a beach at noon. The kind of beach where the sun shines with such intensity that even the seagulls wear sunglasses. She squinted against the onslaught of daylight, her mind grappling with the sheer, unyielding cheerfulness of it all. It was as if the sun had decided to permanently crank up the brightness dial to eleven, erasing any hint of shadow or nuance. While the perpetual sunshine spared her from the drudgery of darkness, it also trapped her in a world that felt more like an overly enthusiastic postcard than a place of substance—cheerful and flat, with no room for clouds, let alone the tumult of a storm.

Sage followed in her wake, his footsteps making no more sound than a whisper on the lush, velvety grass. His face bore an endearing look of deep concern, his eyebrows drawn together and his mouth pulled into a slight grimace, as if he had just sampled a particularly unpleasant flavor. It was evident that Saya’s recent behavior had thrown him into a state of anxious bewilderment. Whether it was the oppressive, stuffy atmosphere of the room or her newfound fixation on deciphering reality that troubled him was uncertain, but it was clear that he was struggling to come to terms with both.

"I think you’re just desperate," Sage said, the words hanging in the air like a half-hearted attempt at intervention. "I mean, I said I’d help you, and I will, but... maybe you just need to take a deep breath. It’s been two years for me, but you’re still new to this world. Maybe a walk will clear your head."

Saya shot him a look so piercing it could have withered a garden of daisies in an instant. She had been hoping for more than just a stroll and a spot of fresh air. Sure, the daylight might have been invigorating to her weary body—she felt she could sprint a marathon with ease—but her mind was entangled in a mire of doubt and exhaustion. The dream—or vision, or whatever it was—had rattled her to her very core. Yet Sage seemed to regard it with the casual indifference of someone dismissing a case of mild indigestion.

"I’m fine," she insisted, though her voice wavered, betraying her internal struggle. "You can stay behind if you like, but I need to figure this out. I have to discern what’s real and what’s just… all this." She gestured dismissively at the overly vivid surroundings, as if the entire landscape was merely a theatrical set for a play in which she had not been cast.

They found themselves standing before a grand shrine, its towering roof arching imposingly against a sky thick with clouds that seemed to weigh heavy with forgotten sorrows. The shrine’s presence was nothing short of awe-inspiring, a majestic relic that commanded reverence, but to Saya, it felt like a fragment of a dream someone else had once lived. Its grandeur was lost on her, overshadowed by her own sense of displacement. The structure loomed, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly, mirroring the frustrations etched into Sage’s face. For a brief moment, he appeared almost as imposing as the shrine itself, his frustration palpable in the tight lines of his jaw and the sharpness of his gaze. 

"But I just found out I’m not alone here," he said, his voice tinged with something between desperation and annoyance. "You can't just leave. Who’s going to help you with the magic? You can’t even do a simple transformation without ending everything upside down!"

Is he still cranky about his owls?

The thought flitted through her mind as she sighed deeply, the sound heavy with a weariness that felt far beyond the reach of mere rest. She understood Sage’s frustration, even sympathized with it to some extent. But she couldn't allow it to deter her. “Listen, Sage, I know it’s hard to believe. You’ve been here for a long time—this is your life now. But I really believe that this is just a dream, and I’m the one who needs to wake up.”

His eyes widened, a mix of disbelief and something more poignant—perhaps hurt, though it was hard to pinpoint. “No! I don’t believe that! Do you want to leave because you don’t like Japan? I can change it to something else. How about a nice medieval castle? Or a tropical island?”

Saya’s brow furrowed as she processed his words, her frustration giving way to something more like curiosity. “Sage, why exactly Japan?”

Her question seemed to strike a chord with him, as if it were a sign that she was beginning to grasp something fundamental. A small, almost imperceptible smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Well,” he began, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I didn’t have a choice. I had to fit into the existing building. So I started with the market and then it looked kind of Japanese, so I ada—”

“Wait,” she interrupted, her heart skipping a beat. “Are you telling me there’s a building you couldn’t change?”

Sage stood frozen, his once-confident demeanor faltering like a magician’s trick gone awry. He opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again, struggling to find the right words. “Yeah. But I built more buildings that looked like that to—”

“Where is that building?” Saya interrupted again, her pulse quickening with a mix of excitement and dread. She had to know. If there was something in this world that Sage couldn’t alter, then maybe, just maybe, it held the key to understanding what this place really was.

Sage’s gaze locked onto hers, his initial defiance melting into a sulky pout. “You’re rude…” he grumbled, though there was no real bitterness in his tone. With a resigned flick of his wrist, the air around them rippled and shimmered. Saya braced herself, her stomach lurching as reality twisted and warped, reshaping itself into something new.

She thought she was accustomed to these sudden shifts, but it seemed the human body never truly adapts to being flung through space with the casual indifference of a sock tossed in a dryer. The world around them shifted with a disorienting blur, and Saya tried to steady herself against the disorienting spin, her mind racing to keep up with the rapid changes.

“Oh no! Not the flying again!” Saya panicked, her voice tinged with sheer dread as she braced herself for the familiar disorienting ride. She loathed these sudden aerial spins, a bitter memory from the first time Sage had flipped her through the air. At that moment, her stomach had lurched so violently it felt like her insides were trying to escape through her throat. She had clung desperately to the illusion of solid ground, preferring the reassuring solidity of earth beneath her feet over the unsettling void of freefall.

Now, as the world around her dissolved into a chaotic swirl of colors and light, her heart pounded furiously. The once-stable surroundings—a serene landscape of lush greenery and imposing shrine—vanished, replaced by a dizzying stream that spun her senses into disarray. She had barely enough time to wonder where or when she would land next, her mind racing to anchor itself amidst the relentless whirl.