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An old building sat nestled into the quiet street that appeared to be abandoned. Seeking respite, the young woman fled inside. Her two-toned hair unfurled out behind her into the wind. Her mind was racing to catch up with her feet. This was the first moment of freedom she had gotten in weeks. Not that long ago she had been lost in the desert, with no direction in mind and no memory of who she was. The only thing she had on her was a dirty, crumpled train ticket to a station that didn't seem to exist. After examining it, she couldn't manage to remember how she had obtained it or what she was doing in the middle of the desert in the first place. She only knew she had better keep moving, lest she die of starvation. However, fate wasn't on her side, as she was abruptly taken captive by a group of human traffickers, who sought to take advantage of her ability. She had only managed to escape through sheer luck at a moment when no one was watching. That led her to where she was now, running through the streets to find somewhere she could stow away at. In the short amount of time her memory could recall, she just seemed to keep running into people out to use her. She could only hope that her luck would eventually turn.
Once she was safely inside the building, she collapsed against the nearest wall to catch her breath. It piqued her interest that the place was in awfully good shape for being so secluded, although it had its fair share of dust. Perhaps it would be worth it to scope the place out. Once she steeled her nerves enough, she proceeded further inside. The walls were covered in ornate stained glass windows that seemed much too fancy for a place like this. Old, dusty books sat in hastily arranged stacks all around the room. For a moment, she pondered if there was anything in those books that could help jog her hazy memory.
Quietly, the sound of slow, careful footsteps approached from behind her. A sharp chill shot through her spine. She sped around, backing away further from the mysterious individual at the same time. Her inquiry as to their identity caught in her throat as she met the person's eyes. It appeared to be a woman similar in age to her, although seemingly sicklier than herself. She wore a small, smug smile, with dark, purple eyes that she could've sworn were looking right through her. Her face was framed by messy, black hair that came down to her shoulders. Her clothes were a stark white, with a large, fur-lined coat draped over her shoulders. The woman's appearance was unlike anything she'd been accustomed to, but that wasn't the main thing that caught her attention. Rather, the aura that permeated from the woman left her uneasy and on edge. Even though she had never met this woman before, it was like her thoughts were already known and on display to her. She began to break out in a cold sweat as she took another step back. She attempted to brace herself for whatever the woman could possibly want from her.
"Hello. My name is Fyodor. And yours is?"
She let out a shaky breath. "I-...I don't know. I can't remember anything about myself, or where I came from."
Fyodor momentarily put on a slightly sorrowful face, but it didn't come off as entirely genuine to her. "Well, that is unfortunate," Fyodor met her gaze, with something in her eyes that she couldn't quite pin down. "Don't you wish for a home?"
The young woman's eyes widened. Yes, she did. There wasn't anything more she could ask for. Up until now, all she had experienced was being shifted around from place to place, with little to no say in the matter. It was either wandering in the scorching desert or sitting huddled in an abandoned warehouse with a gun to her head. There had never been a place she could retreat to to just let herself breathe. Even though her greater internal logic told her to stay away from this "Fyodor", calm as she was, she couldn't let go of the hope that maybe this mysterious woman could give her what she was seeking.
Somewhere to call home.
Sometime later, Fyodor led her down a long winding hallway, in a building much nicer than where they had previously encountered each other. Fyodor explained to her, albeit briefly, that in exchange for her assistance with plans that Fyodor and others were engaged in, she would be provided with what she desired. She wasn't particularly excited to be backed into a corner once again for her ability, but she had a greater fear of the consequences that could come from her refusal.
They shortly arrived in a small office that was full of an assortment of computer monitors. That didn't do much to soothe her nervous mind. Fyodor turned to her, leaning against a desk.
"I'll waste no time getting to the details. I'm part of an organization called the Decay of Angel. We are preparing to cleanse this word under the hand of god. I believe you would be quite helpful to our cause. Our tactics would be less than peaceful, but you would surely be rewarded for your contribution." Fyodor stopped, looking to her for a response.
Her head was spinning with the implications of Fyodor's words. The description she had given of this "Decay of Angel" was quite vague, but she doubted it was anything good, and the thought of "less than peaceful tactics" made her mouth run dry. But even as she considered all that had been explained to her, she couldn't help but be inclined to agree. After all, what other choice did she have? Being thrust back out into the streets wouldn't be much better, not to even mention the possibility of what Fyodor could have in mind for her if she refused. But she got the feeling that Fyodor had little doubt about her accepting the proposal. She had nothing to lose, but all that she wanted to gain. There really wasn't any other option she could've chosen. She straightened up, not quite confident enough to meet Fyodor's gaze.
"Aright. I'll do it."
Fyodor's smile widened. "Excellent."
To little surprise, the aid that she was enlisted for by the Decay of Angel required the use of her ability. Anyone she had ever encountered had been eager to utilize her for their own desires due to its nature. Her ability allowed her to acquire the info from someone which she sought most, but in exchange, they would receive the same from her as well. The gamble could be large, but the allure of gaining such knowledge usually proved large to pass up. She ached to get away from being made to activate the power she had unwillingly been given. In her current predicament, however, she likely wouldn't be given a choice.
Equally to her displeasure, the plans that were to take place with her assistance were nothing short of terrorism. She hardly even understood what they were trying to accomplish, what with Fyodor's talk of the ridding of ability users and following the lord's will. It only served to confuse her more. But reservations aside, she was obligated to continue upholding her end of the deal. For Fyodor had given her something much more precious in exchange for her help.
Thousand of miles into the sky resided a massive, breathtaking structure known as the Sky Casino. It was unthinkable to her that such a place could exist, especially at such an altitude, but here it was before her, grander than anything she could've pictured, and with an elaborate history behind it. This was thanks to a mysterious, all-too-powerful entity called the page that was in the Decay of Angel's possession. It had been ripped from an unknown book that was thought to be residing somewhere in the city of Yokohama. Anything that was written within the book's pages would be actualized in the real world. The potential of that kind of power made her heart race. So even though the casino hadn't even been around for a year, in the minds of the public it had a formidable reputation that truly proceeded itself.
And it was all hers.
Per Fyodor's assurance that she could provide her with a home, she had been made the manager of the Sky Casino. She would spend her days residing in the casino, using its patrons to carry out the Decay of Angel's will. Operating the casino and managing its affairs would all be up to her. It gave her a sense of fulfillment that she had never thought possible before. For once in her life, there was something that she could devote her whole being to. Something to give her true purpose, since the casino relied upon her for its continued success. She was even tolerant of all the work that she had to undertake in management. It took her mind off of all of the many things that gnawed at her, aside from the times it began to overwhelm her. Just thinking of the casino brought a peaceful smile to her face. She struggled to comprehend ending up in a position like this only months after waking up in the middle of nowhere. She wasn't even completely sure that she deserved it.
But she would give it her all to make sure it didn't slip away.
Over the past months, the manager had come become fairly adjusted to her role in the Decay of Angel. Though she didn't exactly agree with the mission they were trying to fulfill, they had given her something to devote herself to, the casino, and for that she was grateful. They didn't qualify as friends, but she became able to tolerate them, even if their meetings usually ended in headaches. She was at least fairly confident that she could count on them to have her back, even if not in a particularly dignified method.
With the casino under her care, and allies(?) she could rely on, she felt that she had finally achieved something like a normal existence. Or well, as normal as someone like her would be able to get.
Business had been slow at the casino the last couple of days, so the manager was able to get some much-needed relaxation. The previous night, as it had been for weeks, was restless, as she had set herself to work memorizing the many guests that filled the halls of her casino. She was lucky to get four or five hours of sleep, if at all. By the time morning came it was all she could do to pull herself out of bed.
Exhaustion still looming over her, she proceeded into the bathroom. She would have to get herself at least somewhat ready for the work ahead of her. As she turned, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. It caused her to stop. She turned herself fully in front of the mirror and took in her (admittedly unkempt) appearance. Her two-toned hair came down to her shoulders in a choppy manner. Nikolai had remarked to her about the odd way her hair was cut, but she had never bothered to fix it. She thought it suited her.
Her hair wasn't the main thing that caught her attention, though. Her eyes wandered down to her body. She took note of the appearance of her breasts, and the curve of her waist. Despite having no memory of being a young girl, she now stood here with the body of a grown woman. She knew bodies like hers were appreciated, but she had never quite felt that way about it. In truth, she kept getting the feeling that something was...wrong. The feeling lingered in her head all the time, whether she was getting ready to head to her office or settling into her bed at night. An uncomfortable, nagging feeling that there was something she was missing. The problem was, she couldn't pin down what it was that was giving her this feeling. There was always the everpresent problem of her lack of a name, but that didn't explain why she felt so odd at the sight of her own body. She sighed and turned away from the mirror. There would be time to think about it later, but for now, she had important work to attend to. Clad in her typical attire, she made her way out of her room and down to her office.
At her office, she took a seat at her desk and looked over her paperwork. This kind of arduous work somehow put her at ease. As strenuous as it may be running a high-end facility such as this one, she couldn't picture a job more suited for her. The pleasure her clients experienced made all her mental labor feel worth it.
Out of the blue, a security worker came into her office. His face didn't show any great emotion, but the twitch of his brow indicated something was troubling him. The manager rose from her seat and walked over to him.
"What's the matter?"
The worker straightened himself and shifted his feet. "Two patrons are getting into a heated altercation downstairs. A couple of older men. One of them is refusing to settle down unless he can speak to a manager."
The manager cursed internally, taking care not to show her frustration on her face. She needed to remain calm and collected in the face of problems such as these, even if they aren't very big.
"Alright, I'll take care of it."
After a moments time, she arrived at the first floor of the casino. High ceilings supported silver chandeliers, and the soft red carpeting padded under feet. It was quite a lavish place for her to be taking care of. Not that she was complaining, of course.
Her eyes were drawn to the two men who stood in the center of the room. They appeared well-groomed, dressed in formal attire, the kind of men who would frequent a place such as this. They paused in the middle of their impassioned argument when they noticed her walking towards them. She stopped in front of the two, trying hard to fake her confidence.
"So, what seems-"
"Ah, finally, a manager!" The shorter of the two was exclaiming to her animatedly. "And a fine-looking gentleman at that! Maybe you can talk some sense into this ol' liar!" He directed an angry look to the other man who was doing much the same.
The man's words made her pause. How had he mistaken her for a man? Sure, she didn't have the most feminine of appearances, but most people were able to identify her as female. She had never been so confidently mistaken for another gender. But, that wasn't exactly what made her stop. No, it was how it had made her feel. Hearing herself being addressed in such a way, gave the faintest fluttering in her stomach. A slight flush came to her ears. She should be upset about this, shouldn't she? So then why did it make her feel good?
"A liar?! Where do you get off accusing people of such things?!" The taller man's face had a deep red tone. He turned to the manager. "Help me out here, Im being cheated out of a game!"
The manager shook her head slightly to snap herself out of her thoughts. She would have to think about the man's comment later. Her priority should be solving the two men's problem. She cleared her throat to call both of their attention.
"First of all, I can't really fix your problem if you're both talking over each other and me" The men appeared slightly embarrassed at her words. She continued, "Secondly, I'm actually not a man, I'm a woman." Something about those words felt funny, but she swallowed it down and tried to ignore it.
"Really?" The shorter man pulled a small pair of glasses out of his pocket and put them on. "Ah, that's more like it. I always forget about these damned things. My mistake!" He smiled apologetically.
She smiled in turn. "It's quite alright. Let's discuss the issue at hand, shall we?"
It didn't take very long for the matter to be resolved. Both men agreed to the terms she had proposed and left for their rooms peacefully. Even though she remained confident in their presence, the possible confrontation had made her quite nervous. Most things do.
Luckily for her, there wasn't much time to be nervous. With as many patrons as the casino had, there was always bound to be something that she could occupy her time with. When she eventually finished all of her work for the day, the sun was beginning to set, and the lobby was being filled with the usual nighttime crowd. The manager did one final check of her office, making sure everything was in a tidy manner. Assured that everything was fine, she left to head back to her room. Quietly shutting the door, she gazed thoughtfully at the ornate casino halls. Sometimes she wondered if she deserved to be in charge of a place such as this. A small voice in the back of her head wanted to tell her that maybe she did.
She retreated to her room with a stifled yawn, stepping into her bathroom to change into more appropriate clothes. She propped herself in front of the mirror and again, it made her stop. It was as if all she could do was stare into her reflection. She had been experiencing all sorts of strange feelings today. Feelings she wasn't familiar with. She had never been very good at handling things she wasn't used to. She thought that if she put all those feelings away and ignored them, they would eventually fade away. That they would stop bothering her. But they didn't. Her body still felt off. The nagging feelings still pulled at her mind. They had been for a long time. She knew deep down that if she didn't stop and confront what was bothering her, it would eat away at her until there was nothing left. Big feelings always had that posed that kind of risk to her.
Still standing in front of her mirror, her eyes drifted down to her chest. She didn't have particularly large breasts by any margin, but they were still noticeable. At that moment, a bizarre idea popped into her head. She quickly grabbed a sports bra and a thin towel out of a nearby laundry basket. The sports bra was too small for her, having been purchased on a whim when she had finally acquired a modest sum of money. She was now glad that she hadn't thrown it out.
Carefully, she pulled the bra over her head and straightened it out over her chest. She then took the towel and wrapped it snugly around the bra. It wasn't exactly very comfortable, but nothing she couldn't deal with. Hesitantly, she looked back up at the mirror.
It was like she had somehow forgotten how to breathe. The garments wrapped around her chest obscured anything underneath. She looked like a blank canvas. Slowly, she raised her trembling hands up to her chest. She ran them across, acclimating to the new sensation. It felt odd and scary.
It felt good.
In her head, she thought back to earlier that day. When that patron had mistaken her for a man. At that moment, she had corrected him. She had asserted herself as a woman. But the scene continued to play over and over in her mind. She couldn't stop thinking about it. That voice in the back of her head offered a possible answer as to why.
Maybe that man hadn't really been mistaken. Oh. Thoughts began to flood into her head all at once.
...Oh.
Hot tears began to spill out from his eyes. He crumpled onto the floor in a heap. His small, quiet hiccups turned into desperate sobs. His hands instinctively grabbed and pulled at his hair.
It was beginning to make sense. It was all making sense. In fact, he wasn't sure how it hadn't occurred to him sooner. Those words...he, him, his...they made him feel good. Those words didn't leave a funny taste in his mouth. They didn't leave him aching for something more. Something that wasn't being a woman. Being Female. Those just didn't feel right. In truth, he didn't think they ever had.
Calling himself a man seemed like it made him feel right. It made him feel good and whole. He was so accustomed to feeling incomplete, that when something gave him a sense of being opposite, he wanted to protect it and hold onto it with everything in him. Like his casino. Like..this.
Eventually, his cries subsided, and he coaxed his hands away from his now-tousled hair. He wasn't quite sure whether it had been ten minutes or ten hours. It didn't make much of a difference anyway. He lifted himself up from the floor and changed into loose-fitting pajamas. It was only when he hit his bed that he realized how tired he was. His eyes instantly fluttered shut. His face took on an exhausted smile.
Being male didn't seem so bad.
It had been two months since the last time he had seen the other members of the Decay of Angel. It wasn't like they were entirely dependent on each other; each member had plenty of their own business to take care of. But they usually still tried to meet up with one another on a regular basis.
He was now glad that they took so much time between meetings.
A lot had managed to change in his life in two months. He wasn't particularly proud of realizing his true gender by breaking down sobbing in his bathroom, but he supposed it could've been worse. Since that day, he had developed a stronger sense of confidence than he had had before. His mind would still race behind closed doors. He would still thread his hands through his hair when he was upset. These things would probably never change. But he no longer tripped over his words so much. He didn't let unsavory patrons send him completely astray. It was a work in progress, but he was beginning to grasp his own self-worth. The thought of it made him smile.
Transitioning had surely helped to steel his resolve in the face of others. He had been fully transparent with the casino staff, patrons, and anyone who cared to ask him about the change. Some were bothered by the new development. He lost a small share of business, but the majority of people were quite understanding of the situation. Those who still weren't feigned to say anything out of fear of getting on the casino's bad side.
His connections as head of the casino had been able to get him in contact with a private doctor nearby, who was able to provide him with hormone replacement medication. He had gotten to know several transgender people who worked at the casino, so he was somewhat familiar with the process. He'd been having the treatment done for two months, and he was already fairly different from how he used to be.
His voice was the most noticeable change. It was deeper, more like him. His face had lost some of its softness and gained a bit of sharper edge. His body had also begun to lose some of its curves, developing a fuller, more bulky look. He was quite happy with the changes he was receiving. They had made him feel complete.
His hair, however, was decidedly unchanged. In fact, it was only continuing to get longer. Some people had asked him why he didn't choose to cut his hair or change its style. Truthfully, he didn't want to. He had always found comfort in his hair. It was soft and light and shielded him like a blanket. His hands always found their way into his hair, raking or pulling or grabbing. It calmed him down when his mind was going faster than he could cope with. He needed his hair. He liked it.
All things considered, his transition was going quite successfully. There was only one problem still plaguing him. He would have to inform the Decay of Angel of his new changes. He didn't think they would go as far as to do something to him; he was likely too valuable of an asset for that. No, the trouble was that he had no idea what they would do. Trying to predict the actions of someone like Fyodor or Nikolai gave him a headache. It was borderline impossible. Fyodor's mind was on a higher, darker plane than his, but the way she would speak with an all-knowing smile to him never failed to send chills down his spine. On the other hand, Nikola was such an eccentric character that he didn't know quite what to make of him. He was always loud and excited, going on about plans and metaphors that gave him whiplash. He had long since given up on trying to understand what the clown was telling him.
He was swiftly snapped out of his thoughts by a small beeping sound. Upon checking, it was a message. Fyodor and Nikolai would be arriving at the casino later that afternoon to discuss their next steps. He leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. He had never been very good with confrontation, but it seemed like the world wasn't going to let him avoid it.
As night was falling, the three made their way down the hall to the manager's office. Fyodor's eyes scanned the area.
"It seems you are doing a good job taking care of this place." She smiled eerily as she spoke.
The manager looked back at her nervously. "Yes, I think I am. I'm enjoying it."
Fyodor simply continued to smile, averting her gaze.
When they arrived at his office, he stopped walking. His eyes were shifting from place to place. The two individuals behind him stopped in turn.
Nikolai was the first to pipe up. "You're looking awfully nervous, so why don't you tell us what's up?" There was a sparkle in his eye like he already had an idea of what he was going to tell him. Fyodor lightly nodded in agreement.
The manager looked at the two and sighed. He shifted to fully face them. His hands softly tugged at the ends of his hair.
"Im transgender, so...I'm not a woman anymore. I'm a man." He couldn't bring himself to look at their faces. He just focused on the sound of his breathing.
After a moment, Nikolai chirped. "Well, that's nice! You didn't need to worry about something like that." His voice had its trademark playful tone, but he had a feeling the clown was being serious.
He turned his eyes to Fyodor. The woman had her eyes closed with a small smile.
"That's good for you. I see no problem with it." Fyodor met his gaze, with a questioning look. "Were you not aware that I am the same?"
His eyes widened in surprise, mouth slightly ajar. "So you-?"
Fyodor slightly giggled. "Not in the same way as you. I used to be male."
Ah. In hindsight, that made sense. He did notice upon meeting Fyodor that her voice wasn't super feminine, but he hadn't thought anything of it at the time. Looking over, Nikolai was unfazed, likely already aware of this knowledge. Now knowing this himself as well gave him a wave of relief that allowed him to relax. Even if he hadn't been told this, there hadn't been any logical reason for them to be upset at him, but he couldn't let go of the possibility.
Nikolai raised a curious finger. "Ah, does that mean you finally have a name?"
The question caught him off guard for a moment, but his surprise faded into a shy smile.
"Call me Sigma."