That Time I Got Isekai’d Again and Befriended a Slime

Gah!"

Mary shot up with a shout, bedsheets tumbling down around her waist. She scrambled from her bed, hair askew and eyes wild. One of her blankets tangled around her legs, sending her to the hardwood floor with a loud crash!

"Mary?!" A masculine voice called from outside the room. Several heart pounding seconds trickled past, as muffled footsteps rushed towards her door. Mary paid them no mind, too busy fighting for her life against her blanket.

The door slammed open, the sound of an oddly familiar gait storming over to her.

"Mary! Mary, are you alright?" The person, a man, knelt at her side. "I heard your shout; what happened?"

Mary finally managed to push herself back into a kneeling position, trying to ignore how the wooden floorboards had tasted and how crammed her nose felt after her face's impromptu make out session with the floor.

"Ugh, yes." She looked up, "I'm-"

Her eyes widened.

"Are you sure?"

An achingly familiar face stared back at her, concern and care mixing in equal parts. One of his eyes was closed, a scar running vertically across it. The other was a warm caramel brown, the specific shade of which she hadn't seen in years. Not since-

"F-father?"

The man tilted his head, his brow furrowing.

"Yes? Yes, Mary, it's me. Are you sure you're alright? Do we need to visit a doctor?"

"I- no. Father, you're…" Mary couldn't believe her eyes. It didn't feel real. "You're… wait, your eye. What…"

"My eye?" Anson touched his scar, "Ah, I'm sorry. I forgot my eyepatch in my rush over. I know it makes you sad to see."

"You, but… you're- what, what's going on. I don't-" Mary bent over, her forehead nearly resting against the floor. Tears pooled the corner of her eyes, "How is this- is this real? No. No, where is… huh…?"

She trailed off. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

Anson gently gripped her hands, pulling her up slightly so that they could look each other in the eyes.

"Where's who? Mary, what are you talking about?" He leaned in, letting go with one hand and bringing it up to rest against her forehead.

"Where's… I don't… I don't know. What was I…?" Mary's cheeks were wet with tears, and she had no idea why. "I can't remember. There was someone else- you were dead? But, you're right here. And- monsters? A city… magic…"

For some reason, it felt like she had finally woken up. It was a dream. It had all been a dream.

And now, it was all fading away. She blinked, wiping at her face.

"I… had a bad dream."

That's right. She remembered now.

She was Mary Sue. 20 years old, living with her parents in Os City of the Legadonia Entente Alliance. Her favorite fruit was apples, and she had recently gotten over a hatred of mangoes. Her favorite color was an odd shade of teal-blue that almost seemed to glow from certain angles.

Just last week, she and her parents had gone to see a showing of Dracula. Yesterday, she stubbed her toe and had fallen, scratching her across her left shoulder. Her best friend was meeting with her today at one of their favorite cafés.

"I forgot myself for a moment. I'm sorry."

"That sounds closer to a nightmare than just a bad dream." Anson pulled back, sighing. "I'm glad you're alright. Do you think you can rest more? I know it can be hard to sleep after such a… well, I understand."

Mary slowly shook her head. Her nerves were wound up too tight; sleep wouldn't be coming back to her anytime soon.

"Alright. I suppose I won't be able to either, so let's make the most of it." Anson huffed, "You know, your mother is still asleep somehow; sleeps like a log, that woman, though perhaps it's the old soldier in me waking up at the slightest noise. Here, I'll make some coffee. Compose yourself a little, my daughter, then come down for a cup. It would do us both good, I think."

"I- yes." Mary nodded shakily, "Thank you, Father."

"You're my little girl." Anson chuckled, patting her on the head. "Even if you shot up like a sprout and have passed 2 decades, you'll always be that to me. Of course, I'll take care of you before anything. That's my job as your father, isn't it?"

"Right…"

For some reason, that sentence struck a chord. But it was gone in an instant, and she thought of it no further.

-=-

One coffee had turned into two, and then four. Soon, it was time for breakfast. Her mother did not come down. Anson explained that she was feeling slightly under the weather and didn't want either of them to catch anything.

Before long, it was time for Mary to leave.

"I'm off now."

"Are you sure you're alright to go?" Anson frowned, crossing his arms. "You were so shaken up this morning. Tanner is a good lad. I'm sure he'll understand if you wish to cancel."

"I told you, I'm fine."

Mary rolled her eyes good naturedly, pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. She adjusted the strap on her leather satchel, the movement rustling her warm maroon turtleneck and black and maroon striped scarf. She reached down, brushing some lint off her black knee-length skirt.

"Tanner would understand, but I don't want to cancel at the last minute again. He seemed so put out last time, I couldn't do that to him a second time."

"Yes, as understanding as that boy is, he's awfully attached huh?" Anson said, scratching his chin, "Well, that's not a bad thing. He'd certainly make for a loyal husband, if you ever decide to stop playing around with his heart."

"Father!"

"What?" Anson chuckled. "You know, I'd almost say that boy is head over heels for you. And I know for a fact he's better than most of the rabble, given that he was under my command for a short time before the war's end. He'd be good for you too."

"As if." Mary huffed, spinning on her heel and starting to walk away, "We're just friends, good companions at most."

"Yes, that's what I told my own parents when I was courting your mother. 'We're just friends' I would proclaim, hay needles still sticking out of my hair." He sighed wistfully, "Things never change, do they?"

"Gross." Mary shot an annoyed look over her shoulder, "I'd never even think of Tanner in such a light-"

"Right, right." Anson waved a hand, "You're still young, a happy 2 decades and counting with plenty of life left. You don't have to say it again; I was only joking."

"Thank you-"

"Besides, Tanner's a man."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Anson raised an eyebrow.

Something flashed across the back of her mind, a spark of familiarity that disappeared before she could pay it any attention.

"Thank you, Father." Mary turned, not deigning him with any further responses. Her cheeks burned as she sped walked away. "I'll be going now."

Anson's belly laugh chased her, even after she was well out of earshot.

Mary slowed down her walk after a few minutes, the suburban areas of her family's home fading into the bustling buildings, sidewalks, and city blocks of Os City.

She sighed a bit, adjusting her scarf as a particularly chilly breeze caught along her neck. Her hair, which reached just past her shoulders and was probably due for a touch up, ruffled and blew about, a few strands smacking her across the face.

Mary frowned, annoyed. Internally, she lamented at her own hurry. If she'd taken more time, she could have done up some sort of ponytail or a braid. But it was too late now.

Instead of complaining – externally, at least. Internally, she would complain all she liked – Mary merely ignored it. Her and Tanner would be meeting inside a café, anyway, and it wouldn't be a problem there.

Will I be on time?

Mary pulled a pocket watch from her satchel, the gold-colored metal and size of the device striking an odd chord in the back of her mind. She ignored it.

Huh. I should be early, for once. Yay, Mary.

Not that Tanner wouldn't understand if she was late. He was reasonable like that and understood that things happened. That's what made him such a good friend.

Mary nodded to herself after a moment, putting her pocket watch away. Her hair swished behind her, the tail end of her scarf coming loose at the same time. Mary grabbed at it, tucking it back into the folds of the rest of her scarf.

As she did so, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Mary looked up.

Oh. It's just my…

She blinked.

…reflection?

It was her, and yet it wasn't. The Mary that stared back at her, from the window of the random storefront she'd stopped near, shared her basic traits. That much was true. That is to say, they had the same facial features, they were the same height, and their hair colors were the same.

However, the similarities ended there.

This Mary, this odd unmatching reflection of hers, had short, somewhat spiked and messy – and even choppy, at points, good lord who did this reflection's hairstyling? Not that it looked bad, per se. It actually looked pretty cool, and weirdly familiar – hair, nearly buzzed along the lower back of her head, with twin braids framing her face.

Her clothes were… odd, to say the least. She almost looked like a ronin from one of those novels her mother liked to read, with a short white cloak covering black clothes, and a green sword sitting sheathed at her waist through a white belt. Also, she had white boots.

Wouldn't those get stained really easily?

Her eyes were different, also. They were… brighter, in the literal sense of the word, the green of her irises much more glow-y. Emotionally, however, they seemed a lot heavier. It was odd. There wasn't really a great way to describe it. There were also slight bags under her eyes, emphasizing the heavier look, and her hands were calloused and rough, with a scar in the shape of a rough starburst in the center of her right palm.

Mary glanced at her own hands. Delicate, smooth. Unburdened by labor, or war-

War?

She looked back up, noticing then that her odd-looking reflection was banging wordlessly against the glass with one hand, the other still pressed flat against the surface. Her reflection yelled something, her expression frantic and angry.

Mary tilted her head, glancing around quickly before stepping closer.

"Are you me?" Mary whispered to the not-herself, leaning in. She lifted a hand of her own, placing it along the same spot her reflection was touching.

A jolt shot through her. That same chord from before sung in her soul.

Her brow furrowed, and the reflections actions grew more agitated, her yelling more pronounced yet still silent to the real Mary's ears.

…Was she the real Mary?

The Mary that wasn't a reflection blinked, shaking her head and focusing on her counterpart's lips.

Wake. Dream. Serk? Berserk? No, that's not it. She squinted. Wake up… Serk-says? No, Zerk-says? Okay, so it's "Wake up. This"… then something else. Then "dream", for sure. Then, Zerk-sees?

Her reflection dropped their head, visibly sighing, before straightening back up with a look of determination. This time, she only said one word.

"Tanya"?

Mary's eyes widened. The sparks in the back of her mind blazed, and suddenly, she remembered.

Wake up. This is a dream. Xerxes. Tanya. A dream. I'm dreaming right now? Yes, obviously I'm dreaming!

As she remembered, her appearance shifted. Green sparks of energy flickered around her eyes, a wash of green flames engulfing her. The world around her bled and shifted; it was like she'd been colorblind until just now, the world's rainbow pouring back into her senses.

I'm in Xerxes! Xerxes, with Tanya! We're on a mission! I need to wake up!!

The fire slowly burnt out, green energy smoldering away as her dream appearance finally matched that of her real self.

Her reflection was just that. A reflection.

Mary sighed, comforted by the familiar weight of her katana and the warmth of her boots and pants. The cold breeze tickled the back of her neck, no longer held back by long hair or a scarf.

It was liberating.

She looked back at the window. This time when she moved, the reflection mirrored the action the way reflections typically did. It was her now, as it should have been from the start.

Mary remembered. She was Mary Sue. 20 years old, and a resident of Tempest.

Now, it was time to wake up.

-=-

It quickly became apparent that Mary did not know how to wake up.

Usually, when you reach the status of "lucid dreaming", you could control your dream. Or at the very least, you would wake up immediately.

Neither of those occurred, much to her chagrin.

Mary was still stuck in this odd dream world of hers.

So, this is Os City?

Mary ran through the streets tirelessly, her enhanced physical abilities thankfully having returned with her awareness of her situation. Or perhaps it was this dream world that allowed her exhaustion to never come.

She didn't really care.

It was odd. This place. Or maybe it wasn't. The citizens and passerby of the bustling city block she was on didn't spare her a glance. She even knocked one of them over on purpose, and they merely cursed at their own shoes like they'd tripped themselves.

Okay yeah, it was pretty odd.

It's surprisingly detailed. I've only been here once, that was when I wasn't even ten. Is my mind just… I don't know, filling in the gaps?

Mary leapt onto the roof of a bakery, jumping and darting across it and its neighbors.

A statue caught her eye, of one of the Council of Ten's members that she couldn't bother to remember the name of. The style and position in particular made her pause, nearly stumbling and falling down the slanted tiles of a barbershop's roof. She caught herself right before the edge, observing the statue for a second before continuing on.

Yep, definitely filling in the gaps. I'm pretty sure Os City wouldn't have statues in the exact same style and make as the ones in Moskva.

Mary reached the end of the block, leaping off and landing with a roll along the cobblestone road. She popped up from her roll, landing on her feet and looking around for another area to search.

This is a dream. I should be able to wake up somehow. Still, why here? Os City is an weird choice. Wouldn't the Unified States make more sense?

Her boots pounded on the cobblestone pavement.

Well, maybe not. Mother always wanted to live here, since this is her hometown and all. And, well, if Father hadn't-

Mary froze, skidding to a halt with a shower of loose stone kicking up in her wake.

Father. Father's here. He's alive in this dream. Would-

"Hey, Mary!!"

Mary blinked, looking over in the direction of the voice. Then, she did a double take.

"Mary, you never showed up to Zolka!" The man ran up to her, stopping and hunching over to catch his breath. After a few seconds of exaggerated breathing, he straightened, fixing her with an annoyed glare.

A shockingly familiar annoyed glare.

"You could have at least come by and-" The man, who looked exactly like one Tanya von Degurechaff, except skinnier, slightly taller, and male, did a double take of his own at her appearance. "What are you wearing? Shit Mary, is that a sword? Where did you even get that?!"

What the fuck. Mary could only stare, mouth open slightly in shock. What the fuck. This is… this is so wrong.

For some reason, Mary couldn't help but think that she much preferred the appearance of the real Tanya, way more than that of this male fake her dream world had for some reason conjured up. Her eyes drifted to his relatively thin forearms, bare thanks to the rolled-up sleeves of his white button up.

She found herself oddly disappointed. Mary had no idea why that was.

Tanya had scars. Tanya was tanner and more toned than this twink, power clear just from the lines of her body and the air about her. Her hands were rougher, and filled to the brim with magic that could be felt thrumming just under the skin.

Even without Magic Sense active, as long as the other woman was close, she could feel it.

Mary blinked.

…Why was that what she focused on?

She shook herself internally.

"Don't worry about it."

"How can I not worry? Mary, what's going on? Your hair is shorter too, and your hands, and I just…" He placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's all so much. Does Anson know about this?"

Mary froze.

Anson. Right, her father. That's what'd she had been thinking about.

She'd woken up at a house. She had woken up in this dream, in that place, where everything had been different. In that place, where her family had never been torn apart by a vengeful deity and world war.

Where everything she would have wished for once upon a time was true.

"Don't touch me. You're not Tanya, nor my friend." Mary brushed Tanner's hand away.

"What? Mary, we've been friends for-"

"Didn't you hear me? You aren't Tanya. You're just some poor mockery this weird dream decided to create. I bet she'd hate you." Mary turned. She knew where she had to go. "I've never known a 'Tanner' in either of my lives. You aren't real. Goodbye."

If only that were the end of it.

"Oh really?" Warmth fell across her back, two much more familiar arms rounding her waist and linking in front. A warm hand pressed against her shoulder, the scar cutting just under the knuckles unmistakable to Mary, "I'm not Tanya? Are you sure?"

Mary chanced a glance to her right, reeling back slightly as a face that was unmistakably Tanya's sat just centimeters away from her own.

"H-how-" Crimson splashed across her cheeks.

"You already know, don't you? This is a dream." Dream Tanya leaned in slightly, her lips brushing against the hollow of Mary's ear. "If I'm just some mockery, then why does this feel so good, huh?"

Tanya's breath was hot against Mary's skin, her face tingling and heating up rapidly as her blush spread even further.

"Come on. Don't act so shy. You can stay here, you know? This dream is nice, isn't it?" Dream Tanya's hand rubbed her shoulder in calm, soothing circles. "Stay. It's everything you've wanted, in both lives."

"I-"

"Come on. Just say yes."

"No!" Before Dream Tanya could try to persuade her further, Mary shoved her away, her face burning hotter than it ever had before.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Mary unsheathed her sword, holding it up threateningly to the other's throat. "But the real Tanya would never act like- like whatever it is you're doing! You aren't real!"

"Am I not?" Dream Tanya held up her hands. "I suppose so. This is a dream. In other words, this landscape is shaped by your subconscious. You get it? This is all you." She sighed. "Well, if you really want to get out of here so much, you should have figured out already how to do it. Unless I'm overestimating you, Sue?"

"That sounds a little more like the real Tanya." Mary muttered. She sheathed her sword. "Er- Degurechaff I mean. And yeah. I know where to go, at least. I'm sure I can figure it out from there."

"That's good enough." Dream Tanya shrugged. Her outline slowly blurred, her voice becoming harder to make out as she faded from view. "Go on now, Sue. Meet your father. And remember, this is only a dream. That's all it is."

Mary watched her disappear, before walking off. Her pace slowly picked up, from a stroll to a fast walk, to a jog and then to a sprint.

She bolted down the streets, wind rushing past as she approached the confrontation she hadn't expected to occur. At least, not until she died again.

-=-