Ch. 49 | New Beginning 7 : Bloom

The heat has spread everywhere now, pulsing through my chest and limbs with every beat of my heart. For one exhilarating second, I almost forget that I’m standing in the middle of a practice room surrounded by people, because however intense it feels, all I can think about is that I did it.

I actually did it.

Then the weight of everyone’s attention hits me all at once, and the excitement gives way to a much more immediate problem.

“What am I supposed to do now?” I ask, opening my eyes and looking helplessly toward Maya.

Her expression has sharpened with interest. “Don’t think about the transformation itself. You’ve already managed to bring the feeling out, so try moving it somewhere. Pick a part of your body and guide the heat toward it.”

That is still annoyingly vague advice, but hey, at least it gives me something to work with, and it’s not like I have any better ideas.

I close my eyes again.

The heat has settled somewhat since that first violent flare, but it is still coursing through me, rising and falling in sync with my heartbeat. I choose my right arm because it seems as good a place as any and try to force everything toward my shoulder.

Nothing happens.

I concentrate harder.

Still nothing.

Before long, I become painfully aware that I must look like I’m trying to shit out a kidney rather than transform while everyone else watches in complete silence. That definitely makes it considerably harder to focus. I hear Marcus shifting behind me, and a second later there is a muffled grunt that strongly suggests someone has just elbowed him in the side. I keep my eyes shut. Whatever is happening back there, I really don’t need to know.

I relax and loosen my shoulders. I could feel the heat flowing through my body more freely now.

It continues to pulse through my chest, and for several seconds I simply follow the rhythm of it without trying to interfere. Then something changes. At first, the movement is so slight that I think I imagined it, but a moment later a thin trail of warmth begins creeping toward my shoulder. My first instinct is to grab hold of the sensation and forcefully push it out across my insides before it can disappear, yet I stop myself. That was exactly what I had been doing before, and it had gotten me nowhere. So this time, I leave it alone and simply follow the warmth as it moves.

It travels through my shoulder and down my upper arm, slow at first, then steadily faster as though it has found a path it recognizes. Pressure begins gathering beneath my skin. My elbow tingles, followed by my wrist, and finally my fingertips.

When I open my eyes, I immediately notice that there is something wrong with my right hand. It has grown noticeably larger, and as I watch, my forearm slowly lengthens another inch.

There is nothing clean about it. Black armor-like material forces its way up from beneath my skin, splitting the flesh of my hand open as it emerges. Blood runs between the forming plates while the bones underneath crack and pull apart, dragging muscle and tendon with them as my fingers lengthen. My sleeve lasts only a second longer. The fabric stretches tight around my swelling forearm before the seams give way, tearing open as another ridge of black material punches through from underneath. Strangely, it didn’t hurt at all, or it did, but for some reason I couldn’t feel a thing.

Fuck. I am going to need new clothes. Again. And I just got the new jacket. I actually liked it a lot, so it really stung to see it getting destroyed like this, but it had to be done. I also realized that I was going to have to request the administration or whoever is in charge of logistics here to provide me with multiple sets of clothes.

Marcus shifts closer at the edge of my vision, but I barely register him. My attention is fixed on my arm and the pressure creeping beneath the armor as my arm continues to change. It hasn’t stopped.

Fuck. This can’t be good.

I flex my fingers experimentally. They obey without hesitation, almost too naturally, as though this oversized, black-plated limb has always belonged to me. I can feel every joint, every twitch of muscle beneath the armor, despite that, I wasn’t too sure that I could keep it up for long were I to simply let the transformation keep going.

“Can you stop there?” Maya asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I look at her, trying my best to keep the terror off my face. “I don’t know.”

I barely get the words out before something inside me lurches.

The heat that had been lingering in my arm suddenly tears back toward my chest, gathering beneath my sternum so violently that I double over. For an instant it feels as though everything has been compressed into a single burning point inside me.

Then it bursts.

My spine jerks upward so violently that the breath is knocked from my lungs as the transformation continues to unfold through the rest of my body. My shoulders wrench wider beneath my jacket, seams straining as black growth punches through torn flesh and spreads across my ribs. My legs lengthen so quickly that I lose my balance and have to stagger forward to keep from falling.

The sudden change in height throws off my sense of the room completely. Maya seems to drop lower in front of me as the floor recedes beneath my feet, while the ceiling feels closer with every inch my body stretches upward.

Bone cracks somewhere deep in my back and I feel every inch of it.

My torso pulls longer as dark plates force their way through my stomach and chest, slick with blood before they overlap and seal together. Muscle tears and reforms under them. My arms grow heavier, my hands larger, and with each heartbeat, another violent shift runs through me, and I lose a little more sense of my own body. Before long, it feels less like I’m moving myself and more like I’m trapped somewhere inside another creature, barely steering it from within. The sensation is horribly familiar, too close to what it felt like when Yashiro took hold of me. Only this time, there is no one else to blame. I can feel what little control I have slipping away by the second.

I draw in a deep breath and try to calm myself, but it does absolutely nothing. My body keeps growing, inch by inch, until the transformation finally stops on its own. The following silence was deafening; you could hear a pin drop, well, if anyone were to drop one. For once, even Marcus seems to have nothing to add.

I freeze, barely daring to move in case my body decides that was somehow an invitation to start growing again. The last thing I needed right now was to go out of control in the middle of a miracle in security forces HQ.

I glance down and see my squadmates staring at me wide-eyed, not one of them saying a word. Marcus meets my gaze and shifts uncomfortably. He mumbles something about giant monsters and gets elbowed by Maya in the side. Ah, the good old Maya, always coming to the rescue. I never even considered the possibility of having another friend other than Violet, not that I ever wanted one, but Maya was seriously starting to grow on me so much that I honestly wouldn't be too opposed to the possibility.

Oba clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Well, that explains the third officer appointment. Now we just have to figure out what to do with her.” He glances at me. “I suppose this is the part where you tell us that you don’t know how to turn back, right ?“

I don’t know if monsters could blush, but if they did, my face would have been beat red as I mumbled out:

“Right.“

Everyone exchanges a round of looks.

"That's certainly something, isn't it?" Narun says as he jokingly elbows Marcus. “A real charmer, that one, has been here for an hour and already has every single person in the room staring daggers at her."

Normally, I’d have something clever to say to that. Instead, my mind goes completely blank, leaving me to stand there in silence like a giant idiot.

“So…” I say sheepishly, lifting my hand in front of my face and slowly flexing the fingers. Watching those long, black-armored things obey me is unsettling enough, especially when I can barely feel them. What really gets me, though, is the delay. It lasts no more than a fraction of a second, but every movement comes just late enough to make me wonder whether I’m truly the one in control.

“Anybody have any idea how to turn it off ?”

Everyone exchanges a round of looks again, this time looking less certain than before. Oh, fuck. That is not the reaction I wanted to see.