KamiKowa: That Time I Got Transmigrated With A Broken Goddess

Naomi's whetstone scraped rhythmically against the edge of her dagger, the sound cutting through the awkward silence that had fallen over their first night's camp. She kept her focus on the blade, though her eyes occasionally flicked upward to survey the scene around the pitiful fire Margaret had managed to build.

The five of them had made decent progress on their first day—covering maybe twenty miles before the early winter sunset forced them to make camp in this small clearing. Now they sat in a loose circle, each absorbed in their own activities while carefully avoiding meaningful conversation.

Margaret stirred a pot of stew hanging over the flames, her movements overly enthusiastic as she added pinches of dried herbs from her pouch. "This should be ready soon! I found some winterroot to add flavor." Her voice was bright, brittle, like ice about to crack. No one responded.

Across the fire, Xavier cleaned his new daggers with methodical precision, his black hair falling forward to hide his expression. Calypso sat beside him—not touching, but close enough to make her position clear—while examining a map of the Westlands territories.

And then there was Ashley, sitting slightly apart from the others. The golden fractures on her skin pulsed softly in the gathering darkness, casting eerie shadows across her face. She hadn't spoken a word since they'd made camp.

"So," Naomi said, breaking the silence as she tested her blade's edge with her thumb, "are we going to talk about it, or just keep pretending everything's normal?"

Margaret's spoon clattered against the pot. "The stew needs more salt."

"That's not what I meant."

Xavier looked up, his blue eyes reflecting the firelight. "Maybe now isn't the best time."

"When is, then?" Naomi slid the dagger back into its sheath with a sharp click. "After we've spent two weeks avoiding the obvious?"

Calypso folded the map with deliberate care. "What exactly is 'the obvious,' Naomi?"

The edge in Calypso's voice made the temperature around them seem to drop another ten degrees. Naomi met her gaze without flinching.

"The obvious is that the four of us are trapped in a bizarre love... square? Pentagon? I'm not even sure what shape to call it." She gestured toward Ashley. "And every emotion that you two feel, she experiences. That seems like something worth discussing before we go to bed tonight."

Margaret cleared her throat. "Speaking of which, I've set up three tents. I thought—"

"I'll share with Xavier," Calypso interrupted, her tone leaving no room for discussion.

Naomi let out a bark of laughter. "Will you, now?"

"Is that a problem?"

"Not for me." Naomi leaned back, balancing on the log she was using as a seat. "But I've been sharing his bed for weeks. Continuity is important for morale, don't you think?"

Xavier pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sitting right here."

"Yes, you are." Naomi smiled sweetly at him. "Any preferences, Thornslayer?"

"Don't drag me into this."

"You're already in it, darling."

Margaret abandoned the stew pot and stood up, brushing snow from her pants. "Maybe we should draw lots? Or take turns?"

"Take turns?" Calypso's voice dripped with disdain. "He's not a library book to be checked out."

"No, he's a man who's been sleeping with both of you," Margaret muttered, then immediately covered her mouth. "I'm sorry, that was—"

"Accurate," Naomi finished for her.

Xavier finally spoke up. "This conversation is ridiculous. We're on a mission to save Nolan, not sort out... whatever this is."

"Oh, so now you have nothing to say?" Naomi cocked her head. "You didn't seem so indecisive in Vykengard."

"That was before—" He stopped abruptly, glancing at Calypso.

"Before what?" Naomi pressed.

"Before they slept together," Ashley said, her voice flat and emotionless. Everyone turned to look at her. She hadn't moved, but the golden fractures on her skin were glowing brighter, pulsing in an erratic pattern. "Before I felt everything they did."

The campfire crackled in the sudden silence.

"Ashley," Xavier began, but she cut him off.

"Your bickering is disrupting my connection to her." Ashley touched the fractures on her forearm, which were beginning to emit a high-pitched sound, almost beyond hearing range. "It's giving me a headache."

She stood up abruptly. "I'll walk it off. The cold helps."

Without another word, Ashley walked away from the fire, into the darkness of the surrounding forest. Her glowing fractures were visible for several moments, like a retreating star, before disappearing among the trees.

"Well," Margaret said quietly, "that went well."

Xavier sighed and got to his feet. "I should go after her."

"No." Calypso caught his wrist. "She needs space. And you'll only make it worse."

"She's right," Naomi admitted grudgingly. "Ashley's... not the same anymore. She doesn't process emotions like before."

Xavier sank back down onto his log, looking defeated. "How did we get here?"

Naomi snorted. "You really want me to answer that?"

Margaret returned to the stew pot, stirring with renewed vigor. "The food's ready, at least. We should eat while it's hot."

They ate in uncomfortable silence, the only sounds the clink of spoons against bowls and the occasional snap of burning wood. The stew was bland despite Margaret's herbs, but Naomi suspected none of them were truly tasting it anyway.

As they finished eating, Calypso stood up and faced Xavier. "I'm going to check on Ashley. When I return, we need to sort this out like adults."

"Good luck with that," Naomi murmured.

Calypso ignored her and walked in the direction Ashley had gone, her wine-red hair catching the moonlight before she too disappeared into the darkness.

Xavier stared into the flames. "This is my fault."

"Don't flatter yourself." Naomi set her bowl aside. "It takes more than one person to create this level of mess."

Margaret began gathering the empty bowls. "It's nobody's fault. We're all just... trying to survive in impossible circumstances."

"Some more pleasurably than others," Naomi said with a pointed look at Xavier.

He met her gaze. "What do you want from me, Naomi?"