The businessmen in her hand are thoroughly drunk. She can hear their crude laughter even at her size. They try to walk and crawl around in her hand almost like children. At one point she glances down swears that one of them has his clothes off and is humping her hand, much to the amusement of the others. She looks away. She would really rather not know what was happening in her hand.

     Unfortunately she can often hear their lewd suggestions they attempt to bellow into the mic of the hapless attendant. She ignores them, but inside she’s fuming. She tries not to imagine closing her hand into a fist, hearing their screams of terror.

       She shudders again. Where are these thoughts coming from? I’m just having a bad day, that’s all, she thinks. But when she had had those thoughts, it hadn’t made her angry. She had felt calmer. Perhaps she should indulge her escapism more often. It’s dangerous thinking. But shes beginning to like it.

     She hears a convergence of sirens somewhere in the city. She’s used to the sirens, it’s a large city, but this one catches her attention. She scans the city as she walks. Then she spots it.

     A massive blaze in a residential district. She stops, staring at it. Beneath a plume of smoke as tall as herself, an apartment tower writhes in flame.

     “Hey!” a wet, cackling voice in her ear says, “what’s the hold up? We don’t have all day! Or do you want Mr. Akiyama to put his sausage on your hand again?”

     Miyu turns, bends down to the busy little street intersection beside the highway, and dumps her hand out into the street. She vaguely hears the screams of protest on the radio dying away as she stands, looking around. She’s on the sea route again. She lifts her leg and steps out onto a little dockside street that doent’t look too busy.

    She gasps a little as the ground sinks beneath her foot. She’s so used to her highway she had forgotten what it felt like walking on normal ground. But she’s in a hurry and brings her other foot forward, stepping to the edge of the water, feeling the dockside collapse and slough beneath her. The feeling is exciting, but she doesn’t have time to register it. She crouches and dips her hands into the water, cupping them. Then quickly she straightens and strides towards the smoke cloud.

    “What are you doing?” a voice in her ear says. It sounds like Express officials. She can’t be bothered to respond. She’s focused on the terrain ahead. She hurriedly places one foot in front of the other, making snap judgment calls on where the least crowded street areas are.

    She does pretty well until one foot sinks even deeper than before and she wobbles slightly, but carries on, her hands held cupped in front of her. Something in the back of her mind tells her she’s crashed through a subway tunnel, but she’s focused on the fire ahead now. It’s close.

    Suddenly mid-step there’s nowhere to go - traffic had converged around the fire, a mix of emergency vehicles, backed up traffic and rubberneckers. One foot already raised she desperately puts it down amongst a block of small houses, praying they’re empty. She barely feels one building crunch under her shoe, but she can’t worry about it now. The firefighters have cleared the perimeter of the tower and it’s there she manages to put her other foot.

    The tower is many stories high and comes up to her thigh. The fire is about halfway up, and on several levels. She crouches and tips her hands forward like a spout, pouring the water carefully into the building. It hisses as she moves her hands around, dousing the flame. When her hands are empty, all that remains of the blaze is a large black ring around the tower, steaming and smoking. She can see into the burnt out interior. A few flames still lick inside, and she leans forward and blows, putting out them out.

    Then she sees all the little figures in the windows above the burnt out section. An amplified voice from one of the firetrucks below says, “You have to get them out of there! The building is unstable!”

    Miyu studies the building for a moment and the puts her palms up to the windows. “Okay!” she says, “Jump!” She doesn’t know how long it takes to get everyone out of the building. It could have been a few minutes or half an hour. Some had jumped eagerly from the smoke filled structures, others were reluctant, scared, or hurt. But she had just held her hands out and eventually everyone made it out. She exhales in relief, wiping her brow of soot and sweat.     She stands painfully, wincing at the stiffness in her body. She looks out at the city below her, momentarily lost.

    A voice from below says, “Don’t move!”

    She looks down. There are too many tiny cars and bodies at her feet, and she is tired. She brushes her hair back behind her ears.

    The little megaphone voice continues, “Don’t take one step! You are in a precarious position. You shouldn’t have left the highway! Now we have to take account of every action of yours. Don’t move or you will do more damage!”

She dimly recognizes the voice as one of the Express executives. Now she’s  forced to stand once more. She can’t even move her feet. All she can do is shift her weight from one to the other.

    “I just want to go home,” she says, to nobody in particular, wiping her face with dirty hands.

    After a while, she becomes aware of a din from below. Tilting her head, she can see a crowd shouting angrily at her feet. Eventually, the voice returns, sounding sheepish and disgruntled. “Ahem. Well, uh, Toma here and, the people from the tower agree that uh, you have earned your rest for today and you may go home.”

    The crowd erupts into cheers. Miya can’t help but smile. To the crowd she bows slightly and says, “Thank you.”

    “Ahem, be aware however, that police and city agents will be at your home tomorrow morning to take account of all events that transpired today. Uh... have a good day, and... thank you.”

***

    Miyu had taken her shoes off and was carrying them hooked in her fingers as she walked the highway back home. At first the feel of her stockinged feet on the road had felt good compared to being in the shoes, but now her heels are sore and she just wants to be home. She has to walk all the way back to her home, which holds the only area of open space in the city. She needed the space to shrink, something about a size-changing field around her. Being close to buildings and other things in the city would be a hazard, apparently.

    Finally she stepped into the middle of the now tiny field, closed her eyes, took a deep breath.

***

    Toma holds open all the doors for her, rushing ahead and frantically about. He looks constantly like he’s about to hold on to her, offering himself for physical support, but she’s not quite that tired.

      When they get to her bedroom she drops her shoes on the floor and collapses onto the bed face-first. She can already feel herself falling asleep. “Toma,” she mumbles. She doesn’t even hear his response, but says “Will you rub my feet?” she says. She’s too sleepy to notice his hesitation, to see his trembling lip and hands. She had almost fallen asleep when she feels his hands on her tired soles. “Mmm,” she says, enjoying the firm rubbing. “That feels good,” she says tiredly before passing out.

      She doesn’t hear his whispered voice say, “Yes, Mistress.”