It began with something small.
It always did.
"Mau, can you sew this?"
She looked up from where she sat on the bamboo steps, sunlight catching faint gold in her hair. A woman from the barrio held out a torn blouse—nothing complicated, just a ripped seam along the side.
Mau hesitated.
"I can try," she said softly.
That was her usual answer.
Safe.
Unassuming.
I can try.
The woman smiled, relieved. "Anything is fine. I just need it wearable."
Mau nodded and took the cloth, along with a needle and thread that were, frankly, doing their best but had seen better years.
She sat cross-legged, smoothing the fabric over her lap.
Her fingers stilled.
Just for a second.
Then—
They moved.
Not carefully.
Not hesitantly.
But with a quiet certainty that didn't match her voice.
The needle slipped through fabric in clean, precise motions. Not just repairing—but adjusting. Reinforcing. Reshaping.
Without thinking, she altered the cut slightly—subtle, almost invisible—but enough to improve the way it would fall on the body.
Her brows knitted faintly.
Why am I doing that?
She didn't stop.
Because her hands didn't hesitate.
They finished quickly.
Too quickly.
"Mau?" Lira called from the path, watching her. "You look like you're about to perform surgery on that blouse."
"…Maybe I am," Mau murmured.
When she handed it back, the woman blinked.
"This is… different."
Mau's shoulders tensed slightly. "Is it wrong?"
"No—no, it's better," the woman said, turning it over. "It looks… nicer."
Lira leaned over, squinting. "You upgraded it."
"I fixed it."
"You upgraded it."
Mau looked away, her voice soft. "It just… felt right."
That was the problem.
Things always felt right before she understood them.
—
Later that afternoon, Mau walked alone by the river.
It was her place when things felt… off.
The water moved steadily, indifferent to human confusion. It didn't ask questions. It didn't expect answers.
Mau crouched near the edge, staring at her reflection.
Still the same.
Same face.
Same quiet eyes.
Same small red mark beneath her ear.
But something—
Something didn't fit.
Like wearing clothes that looked right but felt wrong.
She dipped her fingers into the water, disturbing the image.
"Who are you?" she whispered again.
This time—
The question didn't feel soft.
It felt… urgent.
Behind her, footsteps crunched lightly on gravel.
Lira.
"Okay," she said, dropping beside Mau with exaggerated exhaustion. "You've been weird all day. And that's coming from me."
Mau gave a faint smile. "That's a concerning standard."
"I know, right?" Lira nudged her. "So what's going on?"
Mau hesitated.
Then shrugged lightly. "Nothing."
"Liar."
"Selective silence."
"That's worse."
Mau let out a quiet breath, eyes returning to the river.
"…Do you ever feel like you're in the wrong place?"
Lira frowned. "Like… I took a wrong turn in life?"
Mau nodded slightly.
"All the time," Lira said without hesitation. "But mine is usually because I make bad decisions."
Mau huffed a soft laugh.
But it faded quickly.
"I mean it," she said. "Not like a mistake. Like… I was never meant to be here at all."
Lira studied her.
Really studied her.
For once, she didn't joke.
"…Yeah," she said quietly. "Sometimes."
Mau looked at her.
Surprised.
"But I stay anyway," Lira added, shrugging. "Because this is what I know."
Mau's gaze drifted back to the water.
"…What if there's something else?"
Lira grinned suddenly. "Then I hope it has better food."
Mau laughed softly despite herself.
But the question didn't leave.
It settled deeper.
Like roots growing in silence.
—
That night, the forest felt… different.
Not dangerous.
Not yet.
But aware.
Watching.
Waiting.
Mau lay on her mat, eyes open long after the fire had died.
Her fingers brushed the red mark beneath her ear again.
It felt warm.
Not like skin.
Like memory.
And slowly—
Sleep found her.
But not gently.