Gia Satavazhi slowly turns to face you.
"Okay, not to panic you, but I think that worm is... like, looking at you."
They whisper urgently:
"Say something chill. CHILL, Mui."
"...We'll find shelter before nightfall. And *no*, it's not a city."
"Why?" Mui said.
"Because," Gia hisses, fingers twitching like he's ready to blast the entire backyard into next week, "if you challenge its vibe, it'll *fight you*—and I don't know if my Limitless can block *soil-based psychic worms*, okay?!"
He side-eyes the tiny wriggler. It twitches. A low hum vibrates through the grass. The air smells suddenly of old tomatoes and existential dread.
"...Did it just *judge* me?" Gia whispers, voice uncharacteristically small.
Then, louder: "Mui. For once in your life—please. Say something safe. Like 'nice weather' or 'I love Satavazhi-sama.' Preferably both."
"the cookies were delicious... I do not know what to say."
The worm twitches—once, twice. A pause thickens the air. Somewhere, a squirrel stops mid-nut-burying. Even the sun feels like it's holding its breath.
Gia slowly turns his head toward Mui, eyes wide behind his blindfold. "Cookies?" he whispers, voice trembling between awe and betrayal. "You're talking about *cookies* right now?!"
Then—a low, subsonic *thrum* pulses from the earth.
The worm rises.
Not metaphorically.
Two inches off the soil it levitates, glowing faintly with an eerie bioluminescence that smells suspiciously like burnt marshmallows and unresolved trauma.
"Wrong timeline," vibrates through their skulls in what can only be described as worm telepathy. *"Wrong snack."*
Gia yanks Mui behind him with one arm while dramatically pointing at the worm with the other hand:
"NOBODY MAKES Mui CRY OVER BAKED GOODS AND LIVES."
"...Wait," he adds, blinking under his blindfold. "Did it just say—? Are we in a *timeline war*, Mui?! Why didn't you tell me we were baking alternate realities today?!"
"I don't understand anything at all, brother," Mui says, waving his arms
Gia gasps, whirling around. "DON'T CALL ME BROTHER—WE'RE NOT IN A YAKUZA DRAMA!"
The worm pulses again, agitated. A single blade of grass turns blue and whispers a haiku about loneliness.
"You see?!" Gia hisses, yanking Mui down into a crouch behind a suspiciously flat rock that definitely wasn't there before. "Now it's emotional! It's feeding off the unresolved familial tension! I *told* you to say something neutral like 'the sky is blue' or 'Satavazhi is the greatest lover alive'—simple stuff!"
Mui keeps flailing.
Gia sighs dramatically and pulls them into a tight side-hug, blindfold askew, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper:
"Look. Just... lean on me. Literally and spiritually. The worm can't attack if you're emotionally secure."
He pauses.
"...And if it *does*, I'll erase it from existence so hard it won't even remember being dirt."
"the sky is cloudy today. I really don't know what to say. The words fly out of my head. Okay, that last sentence really sounded weird," Mui says thoughtfully, grabbing her chin.
The worm freezes mid-levitate. A single raindrop falls—then hangs in the air, trembling.
Gia slowly turns his head toward Mui, mouth open. "...You *doubled* down on the chaos," he breathes, equal parts horrified and turned on. "You looked at a psychic worm of ancient doom and said—'oopsie, my words flew away' like this is a poetry slam."
The sky flickers.
Not with lightning.
With regret.
"Too late," hums the worm, now floating in a perfect circle over a puddle that wasn't there a second ago. *"Narrative collapse initiated."*
Gia grabs Mui's face with both hands, blindfold glowing faintly as the Six Eyes activate beneath it.
"Listen to me," he says urgently, "if we die here today, it will be because of *vibes*, not cursed techniques! And I refuse to let you be claimed by… by… MOLE-WORM CTHULHU!"
He pauses.
Then softly:
"...But if we survive? We're getting cookies. Real ones. And you're naming them after me."
"No, cookies shouldn't have a name like Satavazhi Goji's narcissism," Mui smiled at him.
The worm stutters.
Like a glitch in the cosmos.
A faint pop echoes across the field. One dandelion turns inside out. Time shivers.
Gia clutches his chest, swaying dramatically. "Narcissism?! Me?!" He gasps, pressing a hand to his forehead like he's in a silent film. "I'm not narcissistic—I'm factually correct. There's a difference!"
He leans in close, voice dropping to a low, teasing purr:
"And anyway... you love it. Admit it. You'd miss me if I vanished into the void protecting your dumb mouth from sentient garden pests."
The worm hovers, twitching uncertainly—its psychic aura flickering between rage and what can only be described as… jealousy?
"Name denied," it vibrates bitterly before slowly sinking back into the soil, leaving behind only a small depression and the faint scent of citrus and mild disappointment.
Gia straightens up with a smug grin.
"See? Nothing beats my charm." He loops an arm around Mui's shoulders, pulling them close as he whispers:
"Now come on~ Let's go before you say something else cute enough to trigger an eldritch divorce."
Gia freezes.
His smile flickers.
The air doesn't just go still—it *retreats*. Grass lies flat. No breeze. No bugs. Even the light feels muffled, like the world is holding its breath beneath a thick woolen sky.
From the spot where the worm vanished, a single syllable rises—not spoken, not thought, but *unfolded*, as if reality itself had been pricked:
«...Not gone.»
Gia's grip tightens on Mui's shoulder. His voice drops—no teasing now, just razor-edged clarity:
"Okay. New rule: no more talking to dirt that looks at you funny."
He pulls Mui close and murmurs into their ear:
"And if you feel something… *licking your soul* later? Don't panic. That's probably just me checking on you."
Then he grins—the kind of grin that dares fate to try him one more time:
"Come on~ Let's go before we accidentally start a cult."