Interspecies Potion Solution Part 3 Chapter 8

It was one of those lazy, golden afternoons where the breeze felt just right and the sunlight dappled the grass in sleepy patches. Kirika was lounging under the shade of a wide tree, wings tucked close, eyes half-lidded. Somewhere nearby, cicadas buzzed their usual summer tune.

Then came Miia’s voice, loud and proud as ever.

“I’ve decided!” she declared, standing tall… well, coiled tall at the edge of the field, hands on her hips. “I want to fly with my Darling!”

Kirika blinked once. Then again. She tilted her head toward Miia with an expression that could only be described as ‘Did I hear that right?’

“…You want to what now?” she asked flatly.

Miia slithered closer, beaming. “Fly! You know, like the birds! In the sky! With the wind and the flapping and the romantic holding each other close! Papi once flew me around, remember? So if she could do it, you should be able to, too!”

Kirika sat upright, wings twitching slightly in disbelief. “Miia. You realize I’m not actually a cargo plane, right?”

“Come on!” Miia pleaded, leaning in with glittering eyes. “Your wings are huge! Strong! Sexy! Look at those muscles! You’re built like Papi, just with less… birdbrain!”

Kirika opened her beak to respond… then paused, realizing she didn’t quite know what to say. She was flattered, maybe a little impressed at the logic, too. But also deeply skeptical about how physics factored into any of this.

“You’re seriously suggesting I fly into the air, carrying a full-grown lamia, and actually take off?”

Miia leaned in even closer, now basically nose-to-nose. “Yes.”

Kirika groaned, covering her face with one wing. “Haaa… I don't have much of a choice, do I…? I know that look in your eyes, you’re not going to let this go.”

Miia’s tail gave an excited wiggle as she clapped her hands together, beaming like she’d just won a prize. “Yay~! I knew you’d see reason!”

Kirika muttered something under her breath about “questionable definitions of reason,” but eventually stood, shaking out her wings with a reluctant flourish.

“If we’re really doing this,” she said, eyeing Miia with one last shred of sanity, “then let’s do it at the park. Somewhere with grass. Lots of grass. If I drop you, I want to leave a snake-shaped dent in the soft ground, rather than a hard one.”

“Fair,” Miia nodded brightly. “A little more nature, a little less concrete deathtrap. I can get behind that.”

They had barely made it two steps before—

“Ahem.”

Mrs. Smith’s voice cut through the air like a sharpened clipboard corner. She was still leaning against the porch railing, sunglasses tilted just low enough to peer over the rim. Her smile was far too amused to be entirely innocent.

“Is there a reason my darling is planning to flee into the sky away from a concrete deathtrap?”

Miia froze. “Uh… it’s not what it looks like?”

“It’s exactly what it looks like,” Kirika said flatly. “She wants me to carry her into the sky like some sort of glorified pigeon Uber.”

Miia gasped. “Hey! You’re more like a majestic hawk Uber!”

Mrs. Smith raised an eyebrow, then looked directly at Kirika. “You were really going to try that?”

“I was almost asked politely,” Kirika muttered.

Mrs. Smith clicked her tongue. “Well… technically, you’re right. A harpy could carry someone like Miia in flight, assuming enough practice… and of course a complete disregard for common sense. I wouldn't recommend it, but it is indeed possible.”

She looked Miia up and down, one eyebrow twitching at the obvious physics mismatch. “Still. This is exactly the kind of reckless bonding activity that could land me fifteen pages of paperwork if either of you sprains a tail or pulls a wing.”

Miia looked like she was about to plead.

Mrs. Smith waved a hand. “Relax. I’m not saying no. It’s a heartfelt request, and that’s more than most paperwork is worth.”

Then she smirked and pulled out her phone.

“Buuut, if you’re gonna be doing impromptu aerial stunts, I’m sending backup. You two aren’t getting off that easy.”

She began dialing. “Let me make some calls real quick…”

Kirika glanced sidelong at Miia. “…This just went from weird to official, didn’t it?”

Miia beamed. “That means she’s supporting us!”

Kirika sighed. “That’s one way to interpret it…”

—

The sun was mellow in the sky, casting lazy golden rays across the grassy field of the park. A few clouds drifted overhead, a light breeze rustling the trees. Birds chirped. Children shouted in the distance.

And then, in the middle of the calm…

“So let me get this straight,” Zombina deadpanned, one hand on her hip and the other gesturing between Kirika and Miia like she was trying to connect two particularly stupid dots. “You, formerly horse-butt, now feather-butt, are gonna fly her, the ‘eight times the length of a human’ girl, through the sky. With zero training. Just for fun.”

Kirika spread her wings in a vaguely helpless shrug. “Yeah, that’s about right.”

Doppel-chan gave a lazy wave, already reclining on a nearby bench with her arms behind her head. “Works for me. Better than paperwork. Or another day cleaning bullet casings out of the firing range.”

Kirika tilted her head. “Still… why you two, though? I get why Mrs. Smith would send someone, but aren’t you a four-girl squad? What happened to Manako and Tio?”

Zombina gave a dramatic groan and rolled her eyes. “Official reason? Because I’m ‘good at midair rescue and fall cushioning’ and Doppel is ‘versatile for aerial mimicry support.’”

She paused, then grinned wickedly.

“Real reason? We’ve both been slacking off a bit lately and Smith’s trying to log our hours without us wrecking anything important.”

Kirika let out a sigh and crossed her arms… or, well, tried. Her wings folded over her chest in what she hoped passed for the same thing. “Yep. That sounds exactly like her.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Doppel added with a smile. “Turns out this gig’s not half bad. When you need a second harpy for a second pair of wings on deck, then I can become a second Kirika in five seconds flat. And if worst comes to pass and you need a dramatic rescue, then Zombina’s basically a sack of meat and reflexes. It’s a good setup.”

“Damn. Thanks for telling me what you really think about me Doppel-chan.” Zombina laughed. “Anything else you have to tell this sack of meat with reflexes?”

Miia stepped forward, proudly puffing out her chest. “All of that won’t be necessary! I trust my darling completely. She’ll carry me just fine, no rescues required!”

Kirika blinked, then chuckled softly. “Well, that’s… a lot of confidence. I’ll try to live up to it.”

Zombina scratched the back of her head with a lazy smirk. “That’s all fine and good, lovebirds. But safe is safe. Especially when one of you is a bird and the other’s a giant muscle noodle trying to go airborne.”

Doppel burst into giggles, trying and failing to hide them behind one hand.

Miia turned and struck a dramatic pose. “We are ready! To fly into the sky, hearts as one!”

Kirika raised an eyebrow. “You’re not gonna monologue the whole time, right?”

Miia shot her a wink. “Only if the wind makes it extra dramatic.”

Zombina snorted. “Oh boy. This is either gonna be amazing or end with Miia crashing into a duck pond. Can’t wait to find out which one it's gonna be.”

Kirika gave her a withering look, then turned her attention to the open stretch of park. She took a few steps away from the group, testing the breeze. The grass was cool beneath her talons, the wind gentle and steady. Perfect conditions, she guessed, if you ignored the fact that she was about to carry a full-grown lamia into the sky like a delivery package.

She jumped. Her wings flared wide.

A powerful beat, then another. Kirika rose smoothly into the air, circling once for momentum before drifting right above Miia.

“Okay,” she called down, flapping just hard enough to hover in place. “Now or never!”

Miia reached up eagerly, her arms stretched toward the sky. Kirika dipped her legs, locking her talons gently around Miia’s forearms as Miia’s hands gripped her ankles in turn.

The lift was slow. Gradual. Her wings ached almost instantly, but it was working. Little by little, Miia’s body lifted off the ground.

First a few meters of coil. Then half her tail. Finally only her tailtip was touching the ground. Then…

“Waaah~!” Miia squealed, her long tail dangling beneath her like a banner as they climbed higher and higher. Kirika grimaced. Miia’s sheer length meant she had to fly way up just to clear the entire noodle. Her head was ten meters above the ground, and that's a low estimate. 

Miia was heavy. Not unbearable. Just… extremely present. Like carrying the world’s most affectionate, full-body weighted blanket.

Kirika didn't dare say that out loud.

“Are you okay up there, Darling?” Miia called up, her voice bright.

“Define okay,” Kirika grunted, pumping her wings in steady rhythm. “But yeah. I’ve got you.”

Miia twisted slightly to look around, letting out a dreamy sigh. “It’s been a while since we’ve been alone like this. Not since you carried me on your centaur back that one time…”

Kirika smirked through clenched teeth. “Yeah. Little less horseback riding, little more aerial acrobatics this time.”

Miia giggled. “Do you like the view?”

Kirika was about to answer, but Miia's voice softened. “...I mean it. I never really said sorry. Not properly. The potion thing… that was all my fault. And I still feel kinda terrible about it.”

Kirika blinked, her rhythm faltering for just a moment. Then she adjusted.

“Miia…”

“And it’s dumb, I know,” Miia continued, voice tight. “But I’m still jealous. That the potion turned you into a harpy like Papi, or a centaur like Cerea. I was so sure you’d become a lamia like me. That was the whole point of it! I just… wanted something special with you too.”

Kirika was quiet for a few flaps.

Then: “Yeah. It sucks. And yeah, I hoped it’d wear off by now. I didn’t exactly sign up to grow feathers and lay eggs.”

Miia winced.

“But,” Kirika continued, voice gentler now, “we don’t get to pick the weird stuff that happens to us. And this thing… situation… It really helped me learn a lot about all sorts of extra species girls and their troubles, better than any book ever could. And it's not like it's all bad. All we can do is enjoy what we do have. And right now?”

She looked down at Miia, still suspended like a streamer on a parade float.

“I have a clingy, slightly insane snake-girl dangling from my legs while I soar over the park like a magical delivery drone.”

Miia gave her a watery laugh. “Do you at least still enjoy spending time with me?”

Kirika grinned. “If I didn’t, do you think I’d be flying over the park with you in my talons right now?”

“…Fair enough,” Miia said, wiping her eyes and smiling. “Fair enough.”

She looked up at Kirika, still dangling above like some awkward avian chariot. “By the way… when did you learn to fly like that? I mean, last I checked, you just kinda started flying one day without training. Even Zombina said it was weird.”

Kirika gave a sheepish chuckle. “Honestly? I think it’s got something to do with the way I transformed. I adjusted pretty quickly when I was a centaur too, remember? Just… clicked, somehow.”

She made a face, scrunching up like someone had just reminded her of an old cringy social media post. “Although, my first few attempts… went about as well as you’d expect.”

Miia giggled.

But then came… a sound.

WHOOSH.

It came out of nowhere. A gust of air, a blur of feathers and motion, something slammed hard into Kirika’s talons and Miia’s hands with shocking force, just narrowly missing Miia’s head.

“Wha—!?” Kirika yelped, wings flailing.

Their grip broke.

“D-Darling!?” Miia cried, plummeting.

Luckily, they hadn’t been too high anymore. Miia instinctively curled, letting her long tail coil beneath her like a spring-loaded mattress. She bounced once and ungracefully and painfully landed on her butt. 

“Ouuuuuh…” Miia groaned, rubbing her scaly butt, hurt, but safe.

Unfortunately, the landing had a casualty.

“MMFF—” came a strangled groan from beneath her.

Miia blinked, then immediately scrambled away. “Oh my gosh!! Zombina!?”

“...You’re welcome…” Zombina wheezed, her face buried half in the grass. She looked like someone had attempted to bury her under a sofa. “Y’know… I don't think this helps my case when Kuroko says that I don’t log enough injury reports…”

Miia winced. “I-I didn’t mean to! You were just there! Like a… a couch!”

“Yeah, yeah. I don't plan to log that one either,” Zombina muttered, still splayed flat. “I’m tough. The best military-grade furniture.”

That’s when Miia heard them.

“Miia! Are you okay!?”
“Miia! Is everything alright!?”

Two voices. The same voice. And then…

Thud. Thud.

Two Kirikas landed right in front of her, feathers ruffling, wings spread, identical down to the little annoyed curl in their brows. Same harpy legs. Same short, wind-tossed hair. Same intense expression of concern mixed with slight exasperation.

Miia’s mouth dropped open, then curled into annoyance. Until she finally said. “…Hey, Doppel. What are you doing?”

One Kirika turned toward the other, and then froze.

“Yeah, wait… why are you… me?!” the real Kirika demanded, feathers puffing slightly.

The second Kirika mirrored her expression perfectly and snapped back, “I could ask you the same thing!”

“That’s a problem,” Zombina said dryly, groaning as she sat up from the grass like a possessed corpse rising from the grave. Her limbs creaked. Her arm completely detached lay nearby. She picked it up casually and pulled out a sewing kit she always had on hand, sighing not from pain, but from the extra work she now has to do. “Doppel-chan told me she was bored… but I didn’t expect her to bust out the Doppelgänger Game.”

“Doppelgänger what now?” Miia asked, glancing between the two Kirikas.

“It’s her favorite party trick,” Zombina explained, scratching the back of her head. “She copies someone, perfectly, down to the nervous twitches. And then makes you guess who the real one is.”

Both Kirikas turned toward Miia with identical expressions of sheer horror.

They looked at each other.

They looked back at Miia.

Their matching faces contorted into synchronized, visual distress.

Miia sighed and crossed her arms. “Alright. Fine. I think I get it.”

The two Kirikas tensed.

Miia tapped a finger to her chin, then spoke carefully: “Hey, Kirika. Do me a favor and fly a little. Just like… two meters above the ground. Doesn’t need to be fancy.”

One Kirika instantly looked confident, nonchalantly nodding before crouching and flapping her wings. She kicked up into the air with ease, hovering steadily just above the height of Miia, being as graceful and calm as can be.

The other Kirika… was sweating.

She gulped, jumped, then flapped her wings with all the subtlety of someone trying to paddle out of a wave pool with pool noodles taped to their arms. Her lift-off was messy, her balance off-center, and the wind draft spun her mid-air like a struggling paper airplane. Technically flying, yes. But if you wanted elegance or confidence, you might want to start looking elsewhere.

Miia tilted her head, unimpressed.

“Okay,” she said with a sweet smile. “That’s enough. You can both come down now.”

Both landed. One with a clean, practiced flutter. The other stumbled and nearly fell over.

Miia slithered forward slowly, a dangerous aura radiating from her in waves. She stopped in front of the second Kirika, the clumsy one, grabbed her gently but firmly by the collar, and pulled her close, their noses nearly touching.

Miia narrowed her eyes, voice a low, deadly hiss.

“Mind explaining why you felt the need to ruin my moment with Darling, huh? Doppel?”

The fake Kirika, clearly outed, gave a sheepish, toothy grin. “Eheh… surprise?”

Miia’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Her tone dropped an octave. “Answer. The. Question. Or I swear I’ll tell Mrs. Smith you nearly killed both of us.”

That wiped the grin clean off Doppel’s face. “It was an accident, okay?!?” she blurted out, hands up in surrender. As she spoke, her form shimmered and rippled like heatwaves off pavement, collapsing back into her true appearance. With dark skin, white hair, and that smug, youthful face that somehow always looked like it was about to prank someone. Her outfit unraveled mid-shift, making Miia’s grip slip off as if she were holding onto a dissolving balloon.

Miia didn’t let that stop her, her glare could have turned glass to sand.

“So?” she pressed, venomously sweet. “Talk.”

Doppel sighed, shoulders slumping. “Look, I don’t get many chances to copy someone who can fly, alright? I thought it’d be a fun challenge. And to be perfectly honest, I’m… kinda terrible at it.”

“You don’t say,” Miia muttered through clenched teeth.

“She turned into Darling to try flying,” Zombina cut in flatly, arms crossed, watching this unfold like a tired school nurse at recess. “Told me she was going to do ‘a graceful loop’ or some crap, probably lost control mid-air, crash-tackled you, and then played the Doppelgänger Game in hopes she could stall long enough not to get yelled at.”

She flexed her arm, now fully reattached and stitched into place, her fingers wiggling as if she wanted to make sure she could feel them all. “That about right?”

Doppel grumbled something unintelligible under her breath, cheeks puffed. “...Right.”

Miia groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “You people are going to kill me before the potion wears off…”

“First time?” Kirika called down with a half-laugh, still floating lazily a few meters above.

Then she turned toward the sulking, slightly deflated shapeshifter. “Tell you what, Doppel. I could try teaching you how to fly. You clearly want to learn it and I might be able to help. But… do you mind changing into Papi for it? I’m gonna be honest, watching myself in front of me is a little bit unsettling.”

“Oh, you are far from the only one. I hear that a lot,” Doppel huffed. But with a flourish, her form shimmered and twisted, feathers bursting outward, limbs shrinking, and in one spinning motion, she became the spitting image of Papi. Wings, voice, silly grin and all.

“I am ready to leeeeaaaarn!” she chirped, flapping once and immediately veering sideways into a bush.

Miia let out a long, slow sigh… then shrugged. “Why not. Knock yourselves out.”

—

Later that evening…

Miia was in her room, humming softly, tail coiled in a circle as she polished a few loose scales. The moonlight streamed through the window, painting silver streaks across her vanity mirror.

A gentle knock echoed from the door.

“Hm? Who is it?” she called.

“It’s me,” came Kirika’s muffled voice.

Miia blinked, then smiled brightly. “Come in, darling~!”

Kirika stepped in, still looking a little tired from the day’s impromptu flying lessons. She hesitated for a second, then quietly sat down at the edge of Miia’s bed.

“What’s up?” Miia asked, turning toward her with curiosity. “Need something?”

Kirika gave a small smile. “I’ve just been thinking… You were right earlier. We really haven’t had a lot of time together lately. Not just because of the whole potion thing, but just… life. And then Doppel and Zombina kind of dive-bombed our moment, so I figured…” She trailed off with a shrug. “I figured I should at least give you the chance to say everything you wanted to say.”

For a second, Miia just stared at her. Then, like a geyser under pressure, her face flushed bright red, her smile exploded into full bloom, and she practically vibrated with joy.

“Ohhhh, my darling!!!” she squealed, launching herself across the room.

Kirika barely had time to react before Miia wrapped her massive tail around her like a python in love, squeezing her in a hug that could have bent steel.

“ACK-! Miia!! I meant emotionally, not crushingly-!!”

“You came to see meeee!” Miia beamed, nuzzling into her.

“L-Lack of—lungs! Can’t—feel—my—wings—”

—

Somewhere else in the house, Lala stood silently at the end of the hallway, staring into the distance.

The silence of the night was broken only by distant gasps and muffled shrieks from the snake room.

“…Hmph,” she murmured to herself, drawing her cloak tighter. “So much death energy in one evening. Such chaos… Such passion. I must intervene before the Princess accidentally reduces her beloved to fertilizer.”

And with a dramatic twirl of her scythe, Lala marched down the hallway.

It had been a strange day. A dangerous day.

Miia had nearly fallen from the sky.

Kirika had nearly been hugged into a pancake.

And Lala… Lala had a lot of messes to clean up that she would absolutely never speak of to anyone.

But in the end… everyone was okay.

And somewhere in the park, a very uncoordinated Doppel-Papi was still flapping sideways into every tree in sight, grinning all the while and learning first hand how bad the harpy nightvision really is.

To be continued…

—

More than one in the sky can only end in disaster.