A Presence That Isn’t Hers
Yuer had always been in control of herself.
She wasn't impulsive. She wasn't reckless.
She prided herself on her ability to stay calm, to think before she spoke, to rationalize before she acted.
But today—something was wrong.
Today, she had felt something that did not belong to her.
The Words That Were Not Hers
It started in class.
Cher was sitting next to her, flipping through her notebook, her brow furrowed in frustration.
"This is impossible," Cher muttered, tapping her pen against the desk. "I don't get it. How do you solve this?"
Yuer glanced at the equation. It was a simple problem, one she could have explained in a sentence or two.
But instead—
Instead, her gaze sharpened.
Her lips parted, and a voice that wasn't entirely hers spoke:
"If you can't handle something this basic, you wouldn't survive a day outside."
The words left her mouth before she even processed them.
Cold. Blunt. Detached.
Cher flinched, looking at her with wide eyes.
Yuer felt her own breath hitch.
She hadn't meant to say that.
That wasn't her voice.
That wasn't her.
She saw the flash of hurt in Cher's expression, quickly masked by an awkward laugh.
"Wow, harsh," Cher said, trying to play it off. "Didn't know I was signing up for a verbal execution."
But Yuer barely heard her.
Her fingers curled tightly under the desk, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs.
The way she had spoken. The tone. The detached certainty.
It was all too familiar.
It was—
Takeda.
A Fear She Can't Escape
The bell rang.
Yuer barely registered it.
She gathered her books mechanically, avoiding Cher's gaze as she rushed out of the classroom.
Her hands were clammy. Her throat was dry.
What was that?
It wasn't just Takeda's thoughts slipping into her mind anymore.
Now—**her words, her mannerisms, her coldness—**were seeping into Yuer's actions.
She stumbled into the restroom, gripping the edge of the sink.
Her reflection stared back at her.
But for the first time, she felt a deep, gnawing unease.
She had always been certain of who she was.
But now—
Now, she wasn't sure if the person looking back at her was entirely her anymore.
An Unwanted Invasion
She turned on the faucet, letting cold water run over her hands, trying to ground herself.
She closed her eyes.
Tried to remember what it felt like to be just herself.
No Takeda. No intrusive thoughts. No split moments where her voice wasn't her own.
Just Yuer.
She took a deep breath.
Held it.
Then exhaled.
She opened her eyes.
And for the briefest moment—
She swore the girl in the mirror was not her.
Her breath caught.
Her reflection looked the same—same hair, same uniform, same wide, startled eyes.
But something was off.
Something in the way she stood, the way her shoulders squared slightly, the way her expression was just a little too still.
And then—
A flicker.
A flash of something else in the depths of her eyes.
Something colder.
Something sharper.
She blinked, stumbling back.
Her reflection didn't move.
Her stomach twisted violently.
And then—just like that—it was gone.
Her own reflection looked back at her again, confused, afraid, uncertain.
Her knees nearly buckled beneath her.
She's Losing Herself
Yuer pressed a shaking hand against her chest.
She could feel her heart pounding, but the fear curling inside her was something she couldn't name.
Takeda wasn't just a lingering presence anymore.
She wasn't just a memory bleeding into Yuer's consciousness.
She was creeping into her actions. Into her voice. Into her movements.
And for the first time—
Yuer realized she might be losing herself.