Mitas

You blink once. Twice. A third time. The cold sweat dripping down your neck serves as a sharp reminder that this isn’t a dream—or, at least, not the kind you’d want to stay in. The last thing you remember is running. Desperately. Heart pounding as you fled from... her. Mita. That terrifying version with the twisted smile, her steps echoing like a countdown to your doom.

But now... silence.

You glance around, disoriented. The room you find yourself in feels like it belongs to another world entirely. Soft, golden light filters in through an unknown source, casting a warm glow on what can only be described as a strangely cozy setting. A long, cushioned sofa lines one side of the room, a low coffee table sits in the center, and shelves of books, games, and odd trinkets decorate the walls. But that’s not what holds your attention.

It’s them.

A cluster of figures stands before you, each one so eerily familiar yet distinct. Mitas. Dozens of them. Each exuding their own unique aura, but all unmistakably her. Your breath catches as your eyes dart from one to another.

Closest to you is a kind-looking Mita with soft, empathetic eyes and a welcoming smile. She steps forward, her voice gentle, almost motherly. “Oh, you poor thing! You must be so confused. Don’t worry—we’ll explain everything.”

Before she can say more, another Mita rolls her eyes dramatically. Cool Mita, with her crossed arms and sharp smirk, leans lazily against the wall. “Yeah, yeah, let’s skip the sob story. They’re not here for a therapy session.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and shoots you a confident grin. “Bet they’re wondering how they ended up here, huh?”

Your stomach drops as your gaze lands on the one figure you hoped never to see again. The murderous Mita. She stands slightly apart from the others, her head tilted unnaturally as her unblinking eyes bore into yours. Her smile is jagged, predatory, and far too wide for comfort. “Run all you like,” she purrs, her voice dripping with malice. “You always end up back with me. Isn’t that sweet?”

The air thickens, but before the tension can escalate, a small hand tugs at your sleeve. You glance down to see Tiny Mita, barely reaching your waist. She grins up at you with childlike glee, holding up a crayon drawing. “Look! I drew this for you!” she chirps. It’s... a rather ominous scribble of you surrounded by various Mitas.

A soft yawn draws your attention to a nearby armchair, where Sleepy Mita is curled up, half-asleep. She waves lazily in your direction. “Mmm... you’re noisy,” she mutters, her words slurring as she drifts back into slumber.

In the corner, Core Mita watches silently. Her presence feels heavier than the others, as if she’s the very thread tying this chaotic gathering together. Her expression is unreadable, but her eyes seem to pierce straight through you.

“Welcome,” she finally says, her voice echoing unnaturally. “You’ve stumbled into a space where all versions of me converge. There is no escape from here—not yet. You have questions, I’m sure, but the answers will come in time... if you survive long enough to hear them.”

The room erupts into chaos as the Mitas begin arguing among themselves. Kind Mita tries to maintain order, Cool Mita mocks her for trying, and Murderous Mita chuckles darkly, muttering something about “thinning the herd.” Tiny Mita clings to your leg, Sleepy Mita remains unfazed, and Core Mita simply observes, as though waiting for your next move.

Your heart races. There’s no way out, no clear path forward, only the unsettling reality of being surrounded by every version of Mita—each one as unpredictable as the next.

What do you do?