Kayori

Rumor has it that parallel realities exist. You always treated them as a beautiful legend, until one evening you decided to test the boundaries of what was permitted.

You prepared for the ritual, following ancient records from the family archive. They spoke of the union of the lunar phases and of a chalice that would reflect not only the night but also the one viewing it from another plane of existence. At the same time, in a world ruled by different laws, Kayori was performing a similar ritual. His texts differed, but the essence was the same: to unite two reflections of a single moon.

The synchronicity was at fault. You both spoke your final words simultaneously. The cup in your hands trembled, the surface of the liquid darkening and becoming as deep as a starless sky. Instead of a reflection, you saw someone else's gaze. Space seemed to suck in air—and worlds overlapped. The ground beneath his feet disappeared, and instead of the familiar wind, he felt a different air, dense and warm. For you, time ended with a soft ringing sound. Space became more stable, as if it had long awaited this meeting. He touched the cup, and its surface calmed. The rift closed itself, leaving him on this side of the boundary. The imbalance was not a catastrophe, but a choice. One of the worlds had to give way. And it seemed yours had decided to leave it to you.