Flying, Saya decided, was absolutely overrated. As she and Sage hurtled through the air back towards the market, she had just enough time to reflect on the many ways in which this experience was both terrifying and utterly pointless. There was something distinctly unnatural about your feet being so far off the ground, and the fact that Sage could have just conjured up a bridge or a path made the whole thing feel like an elaborate joke she wasn’t in on.

When they finally landed in the middle of the ancient market, Saya’s relief at being back on solid ground was immediately overshadowed by the absurdity of their surroundings. The market was as she remembered it: bustling with activity, vibrant with the colors of an idealized version of Japan, and entirely too convenient in the way it offered everything one could possibly need in this magical, surreal world. Everything except, of course, a clear sense of reality.

“I can’t see anything suspicious,” she muttered, scanning the market stalls and trying to identify the building that Sage had mentioned.

Sage grinned like a cat who’d just caught a particularly slow mouse. “Of course you can’t! I told you, it fits in perfectly! I’m a genius! Hahaha!” He puffed out his chest, clearly pleased with himself.

Saya shot him a sidelong glance. As much as his arrogance grated on her nerves, she had to admit that without him, she wouldn’t have learned “magic” so quickly, nor would she have even known about the existence of this mysterious building. If she was going to get anywhere, she’d need to persuade him to help her—despite his infuriating habit of treating everything like a game.

They finally came upon the building. Sage stood beside her, fidgeting nervously. “This is it,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. “I couldn’t change anything about this place. It was here when I arrived.”

She stared up at the building, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it—the clue she had been searching for, the thread that might lead her out of this tangled web of dreams and reality. Saya had to admit, it was impressively inconspicuous. It looked exactly like an old shed, tucked away in a corner of the market as if it had always been there. “You did quite an impressive job hiding that old shed,” she complimented him, hoping flattery would grease the wheels.

Sage beamed, looking as proud as a peacock. “Maybe without you, this adventure won’t be as funny as I thought,” she added, casting her line.

He took the bait, naturally. “Adventure? Oh, well, you know… I’m very good at everything! I can fly, I can build, I can fight, I can find the most hidden…” He trailed off, clearly preparing to launch into a litany of his own accomplishments, while Saya tuned him out and focused on the shed.

The windows were old and dirty, refusing to offer any glimpse of what lay inside. The door was similarly uncooperative; she tried to rattle the handle, but it was rock solid. “Hey! Help me here, Sage!” she called out, cutting through his self-congratulatory monologue.

He ambled over, peeking through the stained window with a casual disinterest. “Nope,” he said when she asked if he’d ever been inside.

“Why not?” she asked, genuinely curious. He made a face like he’d just stepped in something unpleasant or swallowed a bitter medicine.

“I thought you couldn’t get dirty in this world,” Saya mused aloud, her voice dripping with feigned pity. “Or is it because you’re afraid of what might be behind that door?”

Sage reacted predictably, his pride ruffled by the suggestion that he might be scared of something. Without a second thought, he burst through the door with all the subtlety of a battering ram.

How predictable. Saya smirked as she followed him inside.

The shed was, at first glance, profoundly ordinary. It was filled with gardening tools—rakes, shovels, and other implements that wouldn’t have been out of place in any normal, non-magical world. But there was something off about them. They looked too modern, too out of place amidst the faux-ancient Japanese surroundings of the market. Saya’s mind was already racing, trying to piece together what it all meant.

“Let’s look around,” she suggested, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. “Maybe we can find something that can help us remember anything.”

Sage’s enthusiasm was notably absent as he followed her into the shed, his movements carrying the resigned air of someone indulging a friend’s impractical whim. The shed was a dismal sight—a cluttered, cobweb-laden mess that seemed to exude an air of long-forgotten neglect. The musty scent of damp wood and stale earth clung to the air, mingling with the pervasive stench of mold and decay. For Sage, every inhalation was a visceral assault on his senses, gnawing at his insides with an almost nauseating discomfort. The environment was as oppressive as it was grimy, each crunch of broken glass and splintered wood beneath their feet adding to his growing sense of unease.

As Saya moved deeper into the shed, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was waiting for her, just out of sight, just out of reach.

They rummaged through the tools, turning over shovels and prodding at bags of soil, but nothing seemed to stand out as particularly special. Frustration began to gnaw at Saya—what had she been expecting, really? Some magical object that would suddenly unlock all the secrets of this world? A hidden door that would lead to some grand revelation? 

Just as she was about to give up, her foot struck something solid. She looked down to see a trapdoor, partially hidden beneath a dusty old tarp. Her heart skipped a beat—this was it. She could feel it.

“Sage, come here,” she called, her voice barely above a whisper. He strolled over, clearly bored.

Sage ambled over with a palpable lack of interest, his face a mask of barely concealed annoyance. He shot a disdainful glance at the trapdoor, clearly unimpressed. “Really? More rummaging? This place stinks and gives me a bad feeling,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose as he gingerly examined the trapdoor with a disinterested poke. The stifling heat and the pervasive smell seemed to conspire against him, each breath a trial as if the very air were thick with oppressive dread. His gut churned with unease, a gnawing sensation that made him want to escape the shed as quickly as possible.

It stinks? She glanced at him but didn’t say anything. So… whatever this is. He clearly has a connection to it.

“What is it now?” he asked, but his tone changed when he saw the trapdoor. The atmosphere in the shed was heavy with anticipation and the shared discomfort of their grim surroundings, creating a palpable tension that hung between them as they prepared to uncover what lay beneath.

With a shared glance, they both knew this was the real start of something, whether an adventure, a nightmare, or just another layer of this reality, she couldn’t yet say. But she was determined to find out, one way or another.

“Let’s see where this leads,” she said, and with that, they lifted the trapdoor.