Anime Girls from Another World TG - Part 2

She was still on my mind though as I made my way back to campus housing. While there weren’t many dormitories, especially with the limited enrollment on campus, a number of regular houses around were owned by the college and used as rented housing. The house I rented with three other roommates was smaller than my uncle’s house where I’d been living before but it was still plenty of room for me.

I didn’t need to use my key because the front door was already unlocked. After tossing my stuff on my bed, I found Allison in the living room, sprawled out on the long couch against the wall, sleepily rubbing at his twitching nose.

When we first met over a year and a half ago when I moved in, I thought for sure he was the younger sister of the roommate I was expecting. Flawless, soft skin. Airy, brown eyebrows. Thick, rippling brunette hair which flowed past his shoulder. A white t-shirt with a fringe of watercolor tulips which gave a questionable swell at his chest. Bracelets of every color lined up on his right arm. A glittering necklace. Snug-fit denim pants with pale, pink hearts like cake icing at the cuffs. 

I would be lying if I didn’t admit that he looked adorable and triggered a confused sense of arousal in me when we first met. I even once admitted this reaction to Allison, who was quite delighted to hear it and gave me his breathiest imitation of a girl’s voice through his normal, crackly one.

After stretching, I settled onto one end of the long couch, leaving Allison plenty of space where he was cozy. One of his golden-flecked, green eyes flicked open and focused on me. I waved once and said, “Hey, Ally.” 

Crawling cat-like, he made his way next to me and laid his head against my side before he muttered a sleepy, “Hi, Sean. Good first day? Gonna be an anime girl soon?”

I leaned back a little with a sigh and offered, “Fair. I saw Lissa. Just one class with her this time. And not for a few weeks. I actually…literally…ran into an anime girl at the Fairplace shopping center.”

Both of Allison’s eyes popped open and he dug for more information. I described the anime girl in as much detail as I could offer. I recounted the incident. I tried to make myself sound a little cooler in dealing with her. And I worked my way back to the class lecture and Lissa’s fun with Quilla. 

Eventually, Allison released me from his head press, sat up, and stretched. He brushed lightly at his dense hair. Today, Allison wore tiny black socks, a pair of pale-pink pants which looked somewhere between jogging pants and pajamas, a v-neck black top, and a black rose-covered jacket with long sleeves. As always, his thick, naturally-bright lips looked like he’d just given them a coat of gloss. 

Leaning back against the couch, he rubbed at his eyes and began to talk about his day. He took special delight in the reactions of campus freshmen as they gave cautious double and triple takes at him before giving in to confusion. Plenty of theories were offered up by those same freshmen that he was transgendered, gay, somewhere in between, or other. Allison would always answer “other” with a coy smile. Most people just ignored him.

With a calm expression, Allison noted, “I’m fine with that. Better than wanting to punch and kick me every day till I’m spitting up blood.” I glanced downwards. There was so much I didn’t know about Allison. Some of it I wanted to ask. Most of it I figured he would tell me if he really felt like saying it. So, I just listened.    

His acting class sounded amazing and I could vividly imagine the moments Allison recounted. I smirked a little that he was already planning for a layered “girl disguised as a boy” role from a particular play I’d never heard of. He demonstrated a few bits he’d learned from his dance class in an open area of the room. The recount of math and other classes was passed over with tidbits about “earning stares”. He was still waiting for another instance like last term when he got asked out on a date by a male student and then a female one on the same first day of classes. Allison teased the actual details of the “double date” for weeks after that. 

Twirling his way out of the room, he soon returned with two sodas. I expected Clayton would get back soon with Malcolm probably wandering in much later into the evening. Allison had earlier offered to cook his favorite dish of sweet and sour stir fry for dinner. But we all knew Clayton would probably be dragging along a large pizza with him and Malcolm usually ate with family on Mondays. 

The kitchen was Allison’s sanctuary and, despite whatever general disorganization occurred around the rest of the house, no one ever messed up the kitchen. Allison made sure of that. Malcolm’s sanctuary was the spare room across from the bathroom. Although ‘work-in-progress’ was probably the better name.

While we weren’t allowed to alter the house under the rental terms, Malcolm got pretty close with his movie-watching and gaming setup in there. He promised to hide all the holes he’d made before we moved out. 

Clayton’s sanctuary (and workspace) was the garage, where he would often fall asleep between tinkering. For me, I considered my sanctuary to simply be my room, but I also enjoyed this spot on the long couch right next to the bookshelf I’d brought with me and filled with as many of my books as I could manage.

As I sipped my soda, Allison mentioned the backyard, which wasn’t really the most fitting term for the green-fuzz and fork-shaped little pine wedged between the patio and the back wall. He wanted to add a boxed herb garden. I figured Clayton would be able to recreate whatever pre-made thing from the gardening store across town. Allison had plenty of other ideas but I wasn’t sure that all of them would be doable. 

Our discussion drifted into a few rounds of the fighting game Malcolm had imported from Japan. I picked a swift, kick-focusing female character in a rippling dress (none of the names were translated but I called her Maemi because that sounded like what her name was when they announced her on the selection screen). Allison always picked a big, burly guy with shock-white hair piled high on his head, who we both called Boris. 

I kept Boris down for a few rounds but no amount of dodging could stop Allison’s skill with his body slams. Before long, Clayton staggered through the front door. Allison gave him a wide wave while still slamming my character into the ground with one hand. 

Clayton had on his usual blue, high-collared shirt with khaki pants. He scratched at his slight, dirty-blond hair which clung high on his forehead like fuzz then pushed his dipping, narrow glasses back on his nose as he asked, “Anything explode today?”

From anyone else, the question would’ve been strange but, from Clayton, it simply meant, “How is everything?” It began just a week after he’d moved in and the kitchen faucet burst. This was soon followed by one of Clayton’s power tools suddenly “exploding”, with little pieces lodged in the garage walls ever since. We never got a proper explanation from Clayton as to why it happened but I was fine with that. It left plenty to the imagination when I told the story to others.

I responded together with Allison, “Nothing today.” Our usual answer. Clayton gave a look halfway between relief and disappointment as he set his heavy bag against the wall and staggered into the living room. He widened his eyes and blinked a few times, as though the light in the room was somehow jarring.

He plopped onto one side of the long couch and peered at our paused game with a glance of surprise and a nod. Most people I’ve talked to aren’t sure what to make of Clayton and figure he’s either constantly-stoned, sleep-deprived, crazy, or some combination of those things. The only one I had any evidence for was sleep-deprived, due to the work he put into his garage projects. Allison scooted over to Clayton’s side and announced his “herb box” idea. 

Clayton listened with a bent, frozen expression like a stunned opossum that had just face-planted into a tree. When he was done explaining, Clayton began drafting on a scrap of paper lying next to the couch. Allison smiled at the crude sketch and Clayton said only, “Okay” before slumping back on the cushion to suddenly take a nap. 

A few seconds later, he bolted up and staggered over to his bag. He produced, as predicted, a pepperoni pizza. It was rolled up like a tortilla and glossed with nacho cheese. Walking towards the bathroom, he started chewing at one end. Allison hid a grin, scooted back over to me, and asked softly, “Cooking time?”

I prepped the veggies for the stir-fry as Allison cleaned out her wok. It was like helping my uncle cook back home. He was a professional chef (among many other things) but Allison had enthusiasm. Leaping at the ingredients, they danced over the stove. The smell of the sauce steamed in the air. Before long, two plates were set with a pot of leftovers for communal use. 

Eating slowly, it didn’t take long for Allison to notice, lean forward with his hand to his chin, and ask, “Something else on your mind?”

A lot of things really. But I didn’t want to say that, not over dinner. I took a breath. Aside from the faint footsteps of Clayton wandering around one end of the house and the pinging of the cooling coils on the stove, things were so quiet. Even all these months on, it always felt so unnerving for things to be still. I used to count the number of lines zig-zagging the ceiling and trace their patterns to fill time. It felt like I always had too much time for everything, except to be still. A remnant of before I lived with my uncle. 

I stirred my meal and just told him, “It’s the Kinrae imitation thing for class.”

Allison nodded and offered, “Meaning...you’re excited for it?”

Excited was too simple an emotion. I was everything, especially after seeing a Kinrae. The idea of being like that... A little shiver again. What I said in class was right. Only more so. It was just so hard to say without people getting weird, wrong notions about my intent.

And what was my intent? I wanted to be an anime girl. Why? I’d defer to Lissa’s words of “why the hell not?” I could come up with plenty of explanations, plenty of reasoning. But, ultimately, I wanted it for pure, irrational self-interest.

So, I wanted it for sexual reasons? I’d be lying if a sexual motivation wasn’t there. But it wasn’t my goal, just a perk. Allison gave a concerned look at my silence. I flashed a brief smile to reassure him.

Words came into my thoughts and I spoke them without vetting them, “I’m in love with the possibility. I’m in love with being an anime girl.” Reflecting on the words, I doubted them. I wondered if they were too big or not big enough. But they were the words I’d thought and felt and spoken at that moment, words true to me.

Allison gave a calm, soft expression in reply. I’d alluded to my words, I’d said them in numerous, different ways to Lissa and Allison. But those few words felt like the best words. I reserved the right to change my mind but I liked those words.

After a lull, Allison said, “Shame you aren’t receiving more than one of those things. We could really have some fun if we got everyone in the house to wear one.” He topped his words with a giggle as I couldn’t resist imagining that.

For Allison, it would be an easy imagining. He already had the attitude down. Her appearance would probably be much like it was now but with little touches, such as a new voice. Clayton’s image was a little tougher to envision. I’d seen his sister once or twice when she came around and she had really curly auburn hair and wore glasses like his. But she was a lot shorter. I liked the mental image of anime girl Clayton handling her power tools. Malcolm was even harder, so I just gave myself a random vision of an anime girl dressed professionally, like he once was for a job interview. Only I gave her a skirt and a confident flip of her long, dark hair as her wide, brown eyes peered out and she folded her arms. 

By the sly grin on his face, I figured Allison knew what I was thinking. Twirling his fork, he advised me on how he suspected he would look as an anime girl. Not all that different than how he looked now. 

“After all, isn’t all this adorable already?” He gestured to his soft, slight form and laughed. There was nothing to say to that. Well, I could remind myself and Allison that the devices came with a preset assortment of forms recorded from volunteers and modified through methods still poorly-understood. So it was unlikely any of us would find anime girl versions of ourselves in such a limited set. But it was food for the imagination. 

Then Allison’s eyes suddenly jerked open and he raised a finger, saying, “Oh! There was one thing I forgot. I had another dream like the one I told you about last week.”

I remembered. One of those dreams. The kinds of dreams many had been having since not long after the Kinrae first arrived. Although not many documented the dreams in the early months and cases were still under-reported. My first dream of that type was a year ago. The most vivid dream I’d ever had. I woke up like normal in this house. Allison was cooking breakfast. But he was a she and her boyfriend was around. In the dream, this seemed normal. I did my normal routine, I got ready for class, got through the first session, and was preparing for my lunch when I woke up back in my bed with a strange sense of disconnect.

What struck me most was the realistic passage of time. It felt like I had been up for several hours and walking around. It wasn’t compressed time or just a feeling of time which went away once I realized it didn't make sense. The whole thing felt logical. All the senses were real. There was no break in reality. There was no break in time. It just felt like a normal day but not in my world.

It took a while before the dreams became an item of serious study and speculation. Many immediately blamed the Kinrae, launching into long speculations that travels between their world and ours had somehow turned the "fabric" of our universe into “Swiss cheese”. But no amount of study had found any alteration in the nature or physics of the world. Others hoped it was a sign of some human transcendence. Still others wrote about their “living dreams” online. Some books were even published about alternate lives and how to train your mind to retain the most details.

I had three “worlds” I seemed to cycle through. Allison recognized four different ones. Clayton and Malcolm each claimed three as well. Allison’s dream last week was in what she called “girly” world. Only a few men around. Everyone in the house was female, Allison included. It was actually the only one of Allison’s series of dreams in which he was a girl. The few men Allison ran into looked more like he did here than usual. The other dreams were closer to our world. One of them Allison called “Evil Malcolm World” because the only difference he’d discovered so far was that Malcolm had a goatee in it (and the trees around campus were a little taller). The other two had some political differences in the world but events around us were largely the same to the point that Allison would get déjà vu about a phone call at the same time of day. 

For me, neither of my other two dream worlds had me significantly-altered. In one, my class load was focused on economics. It provided the perk of nearly taking an extra major while I slept but with plenty of added confusion. In the other, my uncle visited a lot more often and I’d heard my parents mentioned more than once. I only dreamed that world on rare occasions. I’d gotten used to them. Some weeks I had one of those dreams every day. Other times, I would go for several weeks without a single one. 

So far as the rest of the world, like with the Kinrae, it seemed to have become one of those things people were used to. Just ask someone, “Any special dreams lately?”

Allison’s dreams let me imagine what the other me his mind experienced was like. He always told me we were very similar in personality. We liked the same things and took many of the same classes. We used the same turns of phrase and had the same body language. Like twins separated across untouchable distances. I asked all about this other me, except for one thing. I never asked for her name. 

The answer I gave Allison was that I liked the touch of mystery. The full answer was I hoped I might chance upon her name without being told it. Like some perception or connection with that other world which would prove to me, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it was more than just a weird dream. Granted, plenty of researchers had shown there was something to it, but this was what I needed.

I stared at Allison and listened as she...he told about the newest dream. A normal day. 

“Clem had plans for a trip to the beach after the first week of classes were over. Sharon wanted to join in as well. You didn’t seem to want to go. There was something on your mind but, when I asked, you said it was nothing. But I could tell. So, I invited you to a meal out so we could talk. Conrad had work but we met up later for frisky time.” Allison snickered. I always confused Clem and Sharon but I reminded myself they were the alternates of Malcolm and Clayton respectively. And Conrad was girl Allison’s boyfriend, whom this Allison was still hoping he might run into eventually.

I listened to little details, like the features of other me’s face even though I knew them vividly by now. I visualized the lime dress she wore with long sleeves, stockings, and big, leather boots. I tried to look into her eyes.

It wasn’t that I envied her, although her family life seemed much more together than mine. But I wouldn’t mind a day as her, even if it was a dream where I’d always been her. I had no idea if Allison’s recount of his dream was accurate or not but he always gave enough negative details to balance the good ones. Like the dark rings around other me’s eyes due to several nights of insomnia. I’d slept well so far this week (without any dreams I could recall).

A lot of details were lavished by Allison on the composition and texture of the meals they ordered. There was even one entrée of note which he’d not found anywhere online, which left him with the question of whether it would be fair to steal the idea of something which only existed in another universe. He wouldn’t be the first. Plenty of patents had been filed of late for things which had been first seen in a special dream. 

Teasing at the last of the stir fry bits on his plate, Allison told me, “The other you said she really wanted to see a living anime girl. Some sort of thought just striking her. It kept her up trying to figure out all the details. The me there found it odd. No Kinrae in that world, so it was an odd idea. It even took her a while to understand what you meant. I remember really wanting to help her. But all I could do was buy her a bit of her favorite flavor of cake, red velvet.”

I didn’t like that kind of cake. Carrot cake for me. But I nodded slowly and stared at my empty plate. Pushing his plate aside, Allison offered, “But the meal finished with a smile because there was this guy who came over…”

Allison then recounted other me getting hit on by what seemed like a decent guy and eventually giving her number with some pleasant smiles. They were snippets I couldn’t quite imagine as real and yet they felt real enough. He spent a good while describing the guy, the lean stubble on his chin, the close-cropped brown hair, the full lips. Like the rest of the guys, he had plenty of feminine features, like the shape of his jaw and curve of his shoulders. He also sat, as Allison described, “with his legs crossed tightly enough to crush his balls." 

I had a random desire for a full glass of wine or maybe something harder. Technically, alcohol was forbidden in university-sanctioned housing (we could all legally-drink otherwise) but it was a rule often ignored, especially by Malcolm, who had a dresser drawer with countless bottles lining the bottom under his sweaters. Allison sometimes borrowed a little for cooking. If ever we were caught, we all resolved “for cooking purposes” would be the explanation. 

The dream winded down without a definitive ending. Other me was happy but still only considering a date. Some discussion of class stuff followed which was then interrupted by Allison’s alarm clock in the morning. I would have to wait for next time, if other Allison happened to ask the right questions. 

I helped Allison clean up. As I dried my hands, he put a hand on my shoulder and said decisively, “I know your anime girl experience will go well. And then you’ll have your own cute stories you’ll need to spill to me.” He winked and chuckled. I resisted a blush and just nodded back. 

It wasn’t long after that Malcolm finally made his way through the front door with his over-sized pack on his shoulders. He chuckled and cast a wave towards the kitchen before dropping it and stretching. Not long after that, we could hear him strumming idly at his guitar and wandering towards his room. 

I made my way towards my room as well, as Allison went back to his curled-up spot on the couch to watch some drama with a title I could never remember. My room had a couch of its own, an old one from my uncle’s rec room. It had once been white before a mottling of stains had first changed it to an off-white and now to more of a brownish-gray. Both ends of it sunk in and required flailing and crawling to get out of once you got in but it was still better than nothing. My bed was the same mattress I’d been using for years with a rudimentary, functional frame Clayton had cut and sanded for me during the first week.

I had my storage for the extra stuff from my uncle’s house and a decent organization of clothes. Then there was my past-new-but-not-quite-old-yet computer. And, not to forget, the anime stuff.

Not enough room for an impressive collection but I had an area devoted to a range of VHS tapes with works long out-of-print, DVDs from when I started, and newer media for what I was collecting now. Figures of all materials from vinyl to pewter (with a few beanie ones as well) guarded the top row. And the posters. 

Probably my biggest indulgence. A few wall scrolls but mostly paper and laminates. There were enough around I’d lost count. Many were from shows with action poses but I had some which were originals. A few I knew were live photos of Kinrae shopped onto digital backgrounds. A thriving industry of modeling, which a particular few Kinrae were a part of. It was suspected some were imitations depending on whether their hands appeared doctored or hidden. 

I plopped down on my bed and stared up at the posters on the ceiling. A blond with a big black ribbon in the back of her hair and wide, brown eyes wearing a school outfit, long black stockings, and an enigmatic smile. A redhead with glossy hair tied ornately with a naginata on her shoulder, a sword at her hip, and clad in a green kimono. A long, blue-haired one with a low-cut bodice and a golden rose on her shoulder. A girl with short, black hair and vividly-blue eyes wearing far less than appropriate to her warrior appearance, with tiny pants, tall boots, bracers, and a leather brassiere. A glossy-eyed woman with spiral curls in her green hair, long bangs over her face, a dark suit against a gray background, and a beckoning hand. And there were many more. I’d been collecting for some time.

The shiver returned when I told myself that, in the weeks to come, I would stand before the mirror and see a visage much like the ones looking down on me from above. I loved the possibility. I felt a sudden warmth on my cheeks. I shifted in bed.

I’d wondered about it before but I wondered again. What might an actual Kinrae think if she happened to stand in my room and see all I had? Would it be creepy? I hoped not. Malcolm laughed when I put the question to him once. He said he thought it would be like when his girlfriend would visit his room with all his pinup posters. It was normal, he claimed. Although, he admitted he would take down the hottest girls in the room and put up some prints of her when she came to visit. 

I sat up and walked over to the small mirror I had over the dresser. For now, still my own face with that scruffy fringe of hair that framed my cheeks. My hair was that same tarnished blond, dirty and rusted like some light-colored metal. It flopped all over, piling on top of itself in feathered bands over my ears like I’d just woken up. My eyes were dabbed in gray rings around their gray center (despite no lack of sleep). Dense, dark brows. I was never mistaken for a random actor or a singer in a band. Marks, which were the scarred reminders of healed acne, pocked what faint traces were left of my childhood freckles. 

Good things could be said about my nose, which even Allison envied from time to time. My lips also took after his with a subtle but crimson fullness. Turning from the mirror, I gazed at my computer and considered jotting something down. Perhaps a short poem about how the image in the mirror would change when I put the imitation device on. But it all seemed unfathomable. And I hadn’t been inspired to write since I lived with my uncle. Instead, I started up some random browser game with slightly Kinrae-inspired designs and a mystery plot. 

I eventually dipped into my reading for classes. I took a break in the living room to play cards with Allison as Malcolm sat in one corner tuning his guitar. Malcolm peered over and asked, “Is she kicking your butt again?”

Naturally, he meant Allison, who gave a confident smile. Since the first day he moved in, Malcolm always referred to Allison with female pronouns. I figured at first it was because the name threw him. Then I learned that the two of them had met before college. Malcolm just did it because he wanted to and Allison didn’t mind. Clayton would sometimes slip into the feminine pronoun about Allison when he was particularly groggy. Allison would correct him. But not Malcolm. 

Sometimes, Malcolm would even try to see how far he could push it. He’d make up things (particularly when other people were over) about how Allison liked to toss her bras all over, was working as a stripper, or was pregnant. He relished this around those who didn’t know Allison and then would watch when he showed up to smirk at Malcolm and introduce ‘herself’ to the visitor as they fidgeted about what to say or think. Personally, I figured they planned it together.

Apparently, I missed the biggest reaction from a friend of Clayton’s who entirely bought into Allison as a girl. I wasn’t present for all the events and I only got a playfully-vague version out of Allison which contradicted Malcolm’s even-wilder version. I liked to think the truth was crazier. Or, at least, I hoped it was.

After cards, I considered calling Lissa. Instead, I watched a few anime DVDs and picked through the last of my class reading before bedtime. Clayton finished up in the garage well before then and stared intently at some old horror film I didn't know. Allison sprawled out and seemed to be half-napping while watching. I passed on the film and headed to bed.

Picking out a dark-shaded poster on the ceiling, I imagined what that would be like as I drifted off to sleep. It wouldn’t be a special dream this time but it would be long, deep rest, which was really all I could ask for with an early class in the morning.