Eriko sat on the couch, her gaze intense as she poured over the bold, sprawling visuals of *BLAME!* and the surreal landscapes of *Urm*. The lines between past, present, and future seemed to melt into a single thread of bleak, relentless destiny, the heavy omnistructures towering in an endless, indifferent sprawl. A deep melancholia settled over her, the kind that usually accompanied long nights reading Mallarmé or Baudelaire. She felt as if the crushing weight of time and space was sinking into her bones, whispering that the world was vast, bleak, and, above all, lonely.
Sammi, however, had other ideas.
“Alright, enough of that!” she said, snatching the manga from Eriko’s hands with a grin. Eriko looked up, a mix of surprise and reluctant amusement in her eyes.
“Hey!” Eriko protested, though a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I was reading that.”
“Oh, I know you were,” Sammi said, slipping onto the couch beside her. “But you've been brooding for days, and I’m not letting you get swallowed up by your own melancholic abyss! There’s only one solution for this.” She produced a collection of yuri manga from behind her back, spreading them out with a flourish. “Prepare yourself, my love, for the heartwarming beauty of *girl love*.”
Eriko’s eyebrow arched. “Sammi… these are adorable. I’m not sure they can compete with the omnistructure of a post-apocalyptic dystopia.”
“That’s where you’re wrong!” Sammi countered, laughing as she nudged one of the books into Eriko’s hands. “These stories—these relationships—they remind us that even in a world that seems vast and hopeless, there’s still connection, warmth, and hope. You don’t need to live in a dark symbolist dream forever, Eriko. Sometimes, a little slice of love and sweetness can be just as profound as any existential epic.”
Eriko opened the first manga, glancing at the soft, pastel cover, where two girls stood beneath a cherry blossom tree, exchanging shy glances. A faint blush rose on her cheeks, and she cleared her throat, her usual stoic facade faltering.
“They’re… surprisingly tender,” she murmured, brushing her fingers over the page. “It’s… almost refreshing, seeing characters so openly vulnerable. So… willing to love, despite everything.”
“That’s exactly it!” Sammi leaned closer, resting her head on Eriko’s shoulder. “Look, the world might be big and scary, but these stories remind us that small, beautiful things—like love—can make it all feel manageable. Yuri is like a soft, defiant light against all that darkness.”
Eriko let herself sink into Sammi’s warmth, her heart softening as she flipped through the pages. Her gaze lingered on the simple gestures between the characters—the shared looks, the gentle touches, the quiet understanding that bound them together. They weren’t towering monoliths or unfathomable futures; they were just two people who found solace in each other.
“I think I see what you mean,” Eriko admitted, her voice a little softer, her gaze a little brighter. “These stories… they’re like small sanctuaries, aren’t they?”
Sammi nodded, a gentle smile spreading across her face. “Exactly. Even in the bleakest future, there’s room for moments like these. It’s why we can face whatever comes.”
Eriko set down the manga, turning to Sammi with a look of genuine gratitude. “Thank you. For always bringing me back, even when I feel like I’m sinking.”
Sammi grinned, wrapping her arms around Eriko. “It’s my pleasure. Besides, what kind of hero would I be if I let my beloved fall into the dark depths of symbolist melancholia?”
They both laughed, and Eriko found herself feeling lighter, as if a veil of gray had lifted from her vision. She leaned into Sammi, savoring the warmth of her embrace, feeling the quiet, joyful simplicity of the moment. Perhaps the world was bleak, vast, and daunting—but here, with Sammi, she knew there would always be small sanctuaries, moments of connection, and love to hold onto.
And maybe, just maybe, that was all they needed to keep going.
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