nightfall/guiding star - DraconicHex - Touhou Project [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

There was a loud, irritating noise repeating next to her ear. It reminded her of her alarm, but she would never have set it to such an annoying sound. Merry must have reset it. Anyway, she could sleep for a few more minutes. She reached out and swatted for her phone to turn it off, but instead of cool glass and the near-silence of a haptic buzz, she felt something rough, and then heard a small crunch. She realized, abruptly, that something had irrevocably changed.

Renko Usami sat up and inspected the cricket residue on her hand. It was dark out now, but the moonlight slicing through the curtains made it clear: there was no saving the poor insect. Her university habits were continuing to vex her.

And yet, as something stirred beside her, it didn't matter in the slightest. A blob of golden hair sat up and motioned as if to rub its not-yet-visible eyes, but seemingly just rubbed hair into them instead. It made a small complaining noise.

"Mrgh."

"Good morning to you too, Yukari."

The mass of hair leaned over onto her lap. "It's too early." It extended a hand to wrap around Renko's torso. "Stop being punctual. It's a bad habit."

"The sun sets later in the summer. It's already-" she glanced out the window- "8:23:19." Renko brushed the cricket residue off onto the covers.

"Humans aren't going to sleep yet." The mass of hair managed to form a part, and a yawning woman's face emerged. "What am I supposed to do this early?"

"Look at my handsome face, obviously? Besides, nobody sleeps with the sunset nowadays. You should know that better than anyone." Renko patted her back.

Merry- or, the being that Renko sometimes called Merry, but which now went by something far more pretentious- sat up fully and looked Renko in the eyes. Her own gleamed a cat's yellow in the moonlight, and she cracked a wide grin upon seeing Renko's face. "You're right. That is well worth the extra effort." She stood up abruptly. Her white nightgown was translucent in the moonlight. "...Only if you get up too, though."

"Right."

Renko hauled herself out of bed and glanced out the window proper. The garden, with its unlit lanterns and proper-looking stone paths winding next to a stream, met her directly; but beyond that, and beyond even the bushes at the edge of the estate, was a tall, constantly-shifting sea of trees. Above it all hung a waxing half moon, and beside it, the Milky Way.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned, but Yukari wasn't there; looking around, she saw her on the other side of the room, carefully removing her nightgown.

"Still as inviting as the day you first came here?"

The double meaning was obvious. "It's only been two days."

"Two days you've spent entirely holed up in my house, at that. Really, I thought that you'd be more interested in exploring the new world around you. Isn't this what you've been searching for, this whole time?" She pulled on a stocking.

"Like you said, I'm still undergoing metamorphosis. Even if I am a youkai now, I'm not as youkai-like as I'll ever be. I'm recovering! You should be waiting on me hand and foot. With breakfast in bed, and cough medicine, and hot soup..."

Yukari sighed dramatically and reclined on a chair. "Really now. I can see that you're as recovered as you'll ever be, languishing away in here. Even birds fledge from the nest eventually."

"It's nice to be pampered sometimes." Renko gave a lopsided grin.

"Oh, I see. You want me to dress you, in that case?" Yukari said smugly.

After Renko's sheepish nod of affirmation, Yukari continued to needle her while buttoning up her shirt. "And here I thought you were the adventurous type. You came allllllll the way here just to find me, and now that you're here, you want to lounge in my house all day while I'm out. You're lucky to be such a cute freeloader."

Renko wore a pathetically sad pout. "I'm doing my best over here! It's not my fault that you've filled this place with enough nooks and crannies to spend a human lifetime exploring."

Yukari tilted up her chin with one hand while two others fastened the hook of her skirt. Another pair tying ribbons in Yukari's hair detracted from the image a little. Still, the smirk she wore finished it off well enough. "That's perfectly fine. In that case, I'll let you have your first expedition in Gensoukyou as a non-human on your own. To have you see what it's like."

"You have a habit of doing this, don't you?" Renko pushed down on Yukari's hand with her chin. "Where's my hat, again?"

"On the hat stand, obviously. I don't think you'll be able to wear it with those horns, though." Yukari flicked one of them. "Or should I say antlers? Since they're starting to branch."

"Okay, okay. But only if you give me the rundown on what kind of place Gensoukyou is. I don't want to make a faux pas on my first day out, you know?" Renko twirled around to proceed down the hall.

Yukari paused for a moment, then followed.

As they proceeded down the hall, she loudly slid open a door and peered inside, then frowned. With a flick of her wrist, a wound in reality opened up, and she glanced through it before grabbing something and hauling it out. A bundle of fluff landed on the floor with a yelp. Renko jumped a little bit at the thud, then waved to Ran as she stood.

"You're up early, Lady Yukari." She conspicuously ignored Renko. "What's the occasion?"

"Renko is going on a little adventure today. Prepare something suitable for breakfast."

Ran nodded curtly. "Of course. The most recent, or...?"

"Yes. It is a special occasion, after all." Yukari scratched behind Ran's ears. "And think of something interesting. Don't go for the same thing you always make."

"Of course, Lady Yukari." Ran headed briskly down the hallway.

Yukari smiled after her for a bit, then looked over to Renko.

"By something suitable, you mean..." Renko glanced over at the wall, avoiding eye contact. A crack between the panels of wood stared back at her, and she blinked.

"I do mean that, yes. Another thing you've been dodging quite skillfully, despite your previous assurances to the contrary." Yukari leaned on her shoulder. "You would certainly be adjusting more easily if you weren't."

"You do know that up until a few months ago, the only meat I'd ever eaten was lab-grown or artificial, yeah?" Renko threw her hands up in the air. "Not to say that I mind the idea of the fresh stuff or anything, but it's kind of hopeless to not expect it to be an adjustment."

"I'd be more willing to postpone it— or ignore it entirely, for that matter— if it had turned out that you weren't the type of youkai that hunts humans for food, but..." One of Yukari's fingers slid into the corner of her mouth, pulling back the lips to reveal small fangs. "It seems that you are."

Renko swatted her hand away. "Stop that. Is it really a problem if I postpone it a little bit, though? I mean, I just became a youkai. Surely I've got some time."

Yukari looked up at the ceiling in thought. "Under normal circ*mstances, yes. Most youkai as well-formed as you are born as something that humans fear, and are at least somewhat known as an idea. So they don't need to nourish themselves with more human fear so quickly. Especially in Gensoukyou." She shook her head. "You, however, are different. You simply drifted away from humanity through your own associations and my meddling. Without you going out and impressing your existence on the world or symbolically associating yourself with human fear in other ways, you'll begin to slowly fade away. I suspect you have, oh, a few weeks?" She shrugged. "Of course, I may be exaggerating. I've seen plenty of things over the course of my life, but ultimately, I only have my own experiences to work with."

"That bad, huh?" Renko winced. "I suppose I'll grin and bear it." She pointed at Yukari. "One question, though. How did you become a youkai, anyway? Not the vague method, the exact circ*mstances."

Yukari smiled slightly. "No comment."

"Oh, come on!"

"I don't think you'll have to grin and bear it, though. Ran is an excellent cook, and this is her specialty."

Sure enough, when they entered the kitchen, Renko was met by a wondrous array of scents, sights, and sounds. Ran was leaning over the stovetop, where a saucepan, a frying pan, and a small pot sat. Renko watched as she dispassionately cracked an egg into the pot with one hand, stirring the saucepan with the other.

"Sit down, you're being a distraction." Ran did not turn around.

Renko sat.

Yukari did not. "You're being rude, Ran."

"My apologies, Lady Yukari." Ran transferred what appeared to be a piece of bread onto a plate. "However, it is true."

"If it's any consolation, I'll be able to spend a little time with you today. Hopefully, you'll feel better-adjusted to the novelty afterwards." Yukari sat and leaned on the table.

"I'm sure that I will, Lady Yukari." Ran's ear flicked in irritation under her hat.

Renko took a long, uncomfortable sip of water.

A few minutes later, Ran abruptly set a dish down in front of Renko. "Here you go."

An English muffin, topped with what looked like ham, poached egg, and a yellowish sauce. She remembered seeing something like it at a number of cafés, but never ordered it before. She had always been more of one for sweets.

"Oh, eggs Benedict!" Yukari said appreciatively. "It's been a few years since you made that."

"You've been preparing your own breakfasts recently." Ran said shortly. She then set another plate in front of Yukari, picked her own up off the counter, and walked into the next room.

Renko looked down at her plate. It did look just like a normal dish you'd find at any old café. The ham didn't appear to have an odd color or texture, and the eggs were poached marvelously. The sauce hadn't clumped, either- Renko had heard something a while back about French sauces liking to phase separate. Maybe that was exaggeration, though. It wasn't as if she cooked much herself.

She stared at it for a bit.

"Well?" Yukari was looking over, leaning on her hands. "Would you prefer a different dish?"

"No, this is fine. It's just that actually taking a bite is more difficult than you'd think."

"Outside of the heat of the moment, I would imagine that to be fairly difficult at first." Yukari unfolded her hands. She picked up one of the halves of the English muffin, lifted it to her mouth, then slowly and deliberately took a bite. She chewed, then swallowed. "She's really outdone herself this time."

Renko picked up one of the halves of her own. Some of the Hollandaise sauce got on her hand, but she avoided wiping it off. Mimicking Yukari, she lifted it to her mouth, then quickly, before she could second-guess herself, took a bite.

The first thing that hit her tongue was the tang of the lemon juice in the sauce. It was followed by the half-solidified yolk of the egg, warm and rich. The third flavor that reached her palate was distinctive, yet familiar. She had eaten meat many times before, of course, though not as much as people apparently did in past centuries. And in many respects, this was just another piece of fried ham. Salty and savory, with a bit of crispness to it. Yet there was something else running underneath, almost a rich sourness. Were it not for the fact that the sauce was already there, tasting different, she would have made a comparison, but it wasn't the same at all. It was a satisfying fullness, something that she had been aching for without knowing it. Renko took another bite. Then another.

In what felt like a few seconds, she realized that she was licking the sauce off of her empty hand, and blinked.

Yukari was looking at her, smiling sweetly.

"It seems like you enjoyed your breakfast."

Renko picked up her napkin from where it had fallen and started wiping her hand clean. "Uh. Yes." Her face felt hot. She had never been much of a messy eater- in fact, back when they were in university, she had teased Merry about it, as it was the only axis where she was tidier.

"Adorable, really." Yukari leaned on her hand. "I'd love to see you covered in blood someday. It's a shame that you didn't become a youkai in the usual way."

"I, ah, wh-" Renko couldn't form any words. Yukari was smiling just enough that her teeth were showing. It was distracting. "I think that something is wrong with me."

"Oh?" Yukari raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I kind of- the events after I took the first bite and before I finished my breakfast are kind of a blur." Renko looked down at the table. "And I feel weird. Like, I feel kind of warm and whole inside for the first time, which is weird, because these past few days have been the happiest I've ever been in my life, but I don't know?"

"Ah, yes. You're young, so the blur is only natural. It's a lot of stimulus to feel all at once." Yukari nodded. "As for the latter, that's only natural. Unlike humans, youkai have a raison d'etre. Consuming human flesh, in your case, is a fulfillment of that."

"I guess I assumed that it would feel more like an obligation." Renko folded and unfolded her napkin, then repeated the action. "Having it be so enjoyable seems wrong, somehow."

"Does it now?"

"Yeah. I don't know. I feel like if it were just... food, you know... it wouldn't feel like such a transgression. But it wasn't just food. It was... healing? Medicinal, maybe? But medicine tastes pretty awful, so maybe it's not a good comparison..."

Yukari giggled. "What you're enjoying there is the fear that human felt when they died, transmuted into nourishment. The food itself is really more seasoning for that terror than anything else."

Oh.

"Do you understand a little bit better now why I wanted to eat you?"

A memory of Merry after their excursion on Torifune sprang into her head. Merry with her otherworldly fever, sick, pale, weak, curled up in her futon. Merry putting her hand in Renko's and asking her to call an ambulance. Merry with her shirt off, sweating, her throat quivering as she coughed and Renko placed a wet towel on her forehead.

Renko clapped a hand over her mouth before she could scream at what she had imagined happening next.

A disembodied hand of Yukari's cupped her cheek. "I thought so."

She just nodded. What else was there to say? She had agreed to this, to stay by Merry's side even after the world rejected her very existence. Even if it was jarring and strange and somewhat horrifying at first, the other option was realistically inconceivable. She couldn't live that way for long. There was no other choice she could have made.

"Come outside with me."

The two of them walked out into the garden. Yukari lit the lanterns, seemingly having filled them beforehand, and they sat at the bank of the stream. Renko tore a leaf off of one of the shorter maple trees, and tossed it into the water. "I haven't met a human since I became a youkai, have I?"

"Not since you crossed the boundary, no." Yukari watched the leaf lazily drift down the stream. "Are you worried about it?"

"If I'm going to be heading out on my own." Renko tore off another leaf, and started shredding it with her hands. The veins of the leaf traced white threads throughout its skin, and they resisted her touch a little. The difference in texture distracted her.

"It's nighttime. Few humans are going to be out at all, and most of those that would be are fine to eat." Yukari pulled a notebook and fountain pen from a gap, and opened it to a blank page. "It's also likely that you won't be hungry, since you just ate."

"That's a good segue. Anything I need to know before exploring Gensoukyou?" It was obvious that there were plenty of things to know, but the basics would be nice.

"That's right!" Yukari snapped her fingers. "I should write you a list. You can fly a little bit, can't you?"

"Just float, really." She had asked Ran how she had gotten up to clean the roof.

"Good enough. And I assume you haven't forgotten how to throw objects at things, have you?"

"Eh, no?"

"Wonderful." Yukari pulled a piece of paper out and handed it to her. "Gensoukyou Conflict Resolution Part 1: In order to be treated like a proper sapient youkai and not just a nuisance, you have to have a general concept of the idea of danmaku."

"Like I'm in a STG?" Renko glanced at the paper. It had a series of "spell card" rules on it.

"Precisely. If you get into a conflict with a resident of Gensoukyou, it's best to have a way of resolving that conflict that does not end up with one or both of you dead. We are all endangered species here, after all."

"Does just floating around and throwing objects really have a meaning?"

Yukari rested her head in her hands. "Well, you can throw watches, or konpeitou, or something like that."

"I don't know about that. So, you said that it's a bad thing to kill a resident of Gensoukyou because we're all endangered species. Does this include humans?"

"For the most part, yes." Yukari drew a picture of a row of houses in her notebook. "Humans may not be endangered, but humans who still believe in youkai certainly are. Those live in the village in the center of Gensoukyou. You shouldn't harm a resident of the village, and ideally, you won't enter the village as an obvious youkai, either. If humans don't feel like their place of residence is safe, they might mobilize and try to fight back against us. I shouldn't have to tell you why that would be a problem."

"You don't. Any others I should know about?" Renko began shredding another leaf.

"The shrine maiden. The Hakurei shrine maiden is the most important individual human in Gensoukyou... I told you about watching her floating in the sky that one time years ago, didn't I? At any rate, she, Ran, and I are the only individuals who maintain the barrier, so if she disappeared, I'd have more work to do. In addition, she keeps the balance between humans and youkai in Gensoukyou intact, through various methods. One of those the Moriya shrine maiden also participates in at times, but it's not the latter's duty like it is hers, and anyway, the Moriya shrine maiden isn't... Well, the two of them act as youkai exterminators."

"Youkai exterminators?"

"Oh, right. 'Extermination' is what the humans of this era like to call beating a youkai in a spellcard duel. I think I've been exterminated perhaps a few dozen times now?" Yukari smiled. "The first time was all the way back in the Heisei era..."

"Maybe later. But still, phew." The term had worried her.

"That should be approximately it. Any other questions? I'll keep an eye on you and help you out if you get into any major trouble, of course. You're not a shrine maiden."

"Do you have anywhere that you'd especially recommend I visit first? Oh, and can I get one of those notebooks?" Renko stood up and stretched.

"Well..." Yukari mimed thinking for a moment, but it seemed as if she'd already made up her mind, somehow.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

On summer nights, when the sun didn't set until long after youkai started to come out, I usually had trouble sleeping. Maybe it was the bright light, but then again, I never have problems waking up in the winter nowadays. It might be the youkai side of my physiology catching up with me as I age. More likely, though, it's the infernal hum of that device sitting in my window- the "air conditioning unit". My ability called it a device for keeping a room at a comfortable temperature when it is too hot outside, but I wasn't able to tell until I turned it on that it would buzz like a swarm of cicadas at me all through the night. And at that point, I had already bargained for the power supply.

Therefore, even though it was nearing ten in the evening, I found myself sitting at the counter of my curio shop, Kourindou, reading a cheap-looking magazine over a cup of tea and glancing out the window every once in a while to see the "fireworks" lighting up the night. Perhaps if I stay open late like this more often, I'll have more paying customers...

I say that, but what use would youkai have for objects from the outside world in the first place? Those that can't get them already, that is.

Knock, knock.

Someone was tapping politely on the door. I remained seated, assuming that if they were really that interested in making a purchase, they would try the knob eventually.

Sure enough, with a ring-a-ling, they pushed their way in.

"Oh, so you were open."

The girl who had invited herself into my store at a time no normal human would be awake looked around. Of course, anyone could tell that she was not a normal human. Antlers were protruding from the top of her head, like those of a Japanese deer.

"Not that you thought to check before coming in." I said, though I was secretly happy to have a visitor who had bothered to knock.

"I saw the light from the window. By the way-" she pointed at the oil lamp sitting on the windowsill- "you really shouldn't have an open flame near a paper screen. Even if you're not human, you'd probably be put out if your shop burnt down."

Her authoritative tone was at odds with the way she was hesitantly clutching a pork-pie hat to her chest.

"That's right, youkai fear fire, don't they? I assure you, I've been doing this for my entire life." Some of them, that is.

"Humans with common sense fear fire. You've got that old-fashioned air conditioner running at full blast, too. It's full of flammable liquids."

I hadn't been aware of this, but I kept my composure.

She stared at the shelves above my head. "Actually, everything in here is incredibly old-fashioned. How do you sell any of it?"

I was reminded of a shockingly similar conversation I'd had years in the past. Not wanting to offend, I added a few qualifiers to my query.

"Could you possibly be from the outside world?"

"Me?" She looked surprised. "Well, sure, but how did you guess?"

"Only a few youkai I've met have an understanding of technology as advanced as yours." And those that did were usually troublesome. I suspected that this one would be troublesome, too.

"Propane was banned in air conditioning units half a century ago."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"That's obvious. Anyway, a friend of mine told me that you made clothes?"

"I can do that, but..." There were youkai tailors who might cater better to her needs. I had been making the shrine maidens' uniforms for a hundred and fifty years, so I knew how to use a sewing machine, but the elaborate outfits that youkai paraded around in were beyond me. "Can I ask why your friend recommended me specifically?"

If it was Marisa, she was probably playing a practical joke.

"I need a very simple, common item of clothing replicated, and she suspected that the other tailors she knew of wouldn't take kindly to my request. She also said I'd most likely be interested in your inventory."

"Simple?" If it was simple by human standards, I'd take up the task. I needed to replace some of the shingles after the rainy season, and perhaps I could bargain for a better drying rack. Those, somehow, had become less common items from the outside world recently.

She placed her hat on the counter. "This."

I took a good look at the item. My ability unhelpfully informed me that its purpose was to protect the head from all manner of weather. But I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of familiarity when looking at the white ribbon wrapping itself around the crown...

"Why do you need it replicated, exactly?"

"It originally belonged to a human whose work I admired. It was given to me some time after she no longer inhabited the outside world. But I can't wear it." She pointed at the top of her head. "I'd like a version that I can."

"I see. Let me get my tape measure, and then we can talk about pricing." Some of the shrine maidens had been partial to hats, so I still had the forms laying around in the back room.

When I returned, the youkai girl was flipping through a pile of books. "Oh, these are interesting. I don't think they're even in print any more. You have no idea how difficult it is to find things on the internet nowadays, what with modern piracy laws. Sometimes you have to cite things you've never even read!"

I couldn't understand what she was talking about, but wanted her to leave, so I did not ask. Her unbroken eye contact was beginning to unsettle me. But perhaps pirates marauded the waters of this "internet", and their word as law prevented access to written works?

After I took her measurements, I told her the price for the item, and shockingly, she paid the up-front cost without so much as a question.

She turned to leave, and then I remembered. "A name for the order, please?"

"Usami Renko."

I was slightly shocked, but managed to recover my stance swiftly. I remembered why the hat's design had seemed so familiar to me.

"Forgive me for asking, but that reminds me of someone I once knew. Did you mention the name of the human who you admired?"

"Oh, Usami Sumireko? Yeah, I'm named after her." She smiled somewhat strangely. "So you met?"

"Yes, actually. She was a common visitor to this very shop in days long past."

"I see. Did she ever buy anything?"

"Well, no, but she did sell me some useful items." They were out of date by now, but at the time they had been top of the line fashions.

"Oh, so a supplier, and not a customer." The youkai girl had begun nosing around the shelves again. "Now these are some interesting items." She was holding an old drawing compass. "You could make a lot of money selling antiques like this in the outside world."

"Really?"

"Items that have gone out of fashion are very popular. The people of the outside world like to decorate their homes with useless things in order to project a sense of a well-developed mental landscape." She picked up a slightly-rusted spherical object in the corner. "Oh, and this is made of silver. The metal alone would be worth millions of yen."

"That? Would you like to purchase it?" I felt a slight shock at having missed the value of such a long-forgotten item for so long.

"...If it were cleaned, of course. As it is, how could I detect the silver content? You don't have spectroscopic equipment, and I wouldn't trust any jeweler's loupe you handed me. It could just be plated, for all that I know." She spun the rings around. "This is a bit of an odd chestnut to find in Gensoukyou, of all places, though. I'd expect it in an astronomy department. Maybe hanging in an atrium."

"You've seen objects like it before?" I had been letting the armillary sphere gather dust as the thought of it annoyed me and it interested no one, but I couldn't bear to throw it away.

"I have a passing interest in astronomy. Mostly its use for timekeeping."

The youkai girl spun the rings of the sphere casually. She whistled.

"These constellations aren't the ones I'm used to seeing, though."

As I walked over, I saw her looking down at the bashou-no-sei constellation. If she had been an astronomer in the outside world, this made some sense. She would have undoubtedly familiarized herself with human constellations.

"That would be because it's a youkai armillary sphere."

"I can see that from the names. Made by one, too, no doubt. Though it doesn't feel very youkai-ish."

Of course, I would never keep tsukumogami in my shop. Purposefully.

"Still, some of these constellations are rather outsized. Ursa Major isn't that bright." She pointed at the constellation labeled Tenryuu on the sphere, what we humans know as the Big Dipper. "...Though, I wonder if it was made prior to detailed magnitude measurements? That would explain a good number of the errors."

"Do you mean the Big Dipper?" It was beyond me to understand the current trends in the significance of bears in the outside world. And I wasn't sure what she meant by magnitude, either. Both humans and youkai from the outside world were troublesome.

"Yeah. Ptolemy called it Ursa Major, and the name stuck among astronomers. Polaris is labeled as a single star here, too. Do you have any idea how old this instrument is?"

I admitted that I did not. The youkai girl shook her head.

"Half the value of merchandise is in understanding what you have on hand." She pointed at the star labeled Fudouson. "This star- labeled Fudouson here, or what human beings call the North Star, Polaris, or α Ursae Minoris- is actually three stars, flying through the cosmos as a trio. Right now, the brightest one- Polaris Aa- is the closest to North that it's been in thousands of years, less than a single degree. It's also slowly brightening over time. In a sense, humanity's guiding light is stronger than it's ever been. Probably why this is the only star on here not marked as a youkai of some kind."

"Right." I hadn't understood a single word of her explanation. "As Dainichi Nyorai is a deity of the sun, he guards humankind against youkai."

"And as Fudouson at night, he guides human beings back to home and safety." The youkai girl stared intently at the engraving. "However, I wonder if human beings should really be relying on him."

She really was ominous.

"...And why is that?"

"Hydrostatic equilibrium." She set the sphere down for a moment. "Do you have a piece of paper that I can borrow?"

I needed to fix one of my lamps. "I do not."

"Well, that's fine." She picked it up again and set to spinning the rings. "Anyway, Polaris Aa is an interesting star. It's a yellow supergiant, on the Cepheid instability strip, so its magnitude is constantly fluctuating. Not only that, it's part of a trinary system, which means that its partners Ab and B are constantly pulling it from one side to the other. You can think of it as like a trio of friends holding hands, spinning in a circle. Two of the friends are much smaller than the other, though, so they mostly spin around the third friend, while the third friend simply tilts one way or the other." She leaned from side to side to demonstrate this. "Normally, even yellow giant stars on the Cepheid instability strip are fairly stable, though giant stars in general aren't. They don't usually live too long- just a few thousand years, at most- but they don't burn out and die, either. They turn into red giants and live for tens of thousands of years more."

"How long do stars usually live?" I couldn't imagine them living much longer than the longest-lived youkai.

"Oh, billions and billions of years." She shrugged dismissively. "Giants are the child stars of the world of astronomy. But like I said, yellow giants are fairly stable, normally. But consider this; what if the third friend in your trio of friends, the one who was much larger than the other two, was also made of spun sugar?"

"The others getting too enthusiastic might tear it apart entirely."

"Right. We say that that's why yellow giants- which normally peacefully pass into a later stage of their existence- sometimes go supernova." She outstretched a hand dramatically. "Well, large-scale physics isn't really my specialty, though."

"Supernova?" To me, it sounded like a sort of rebirth. Super- above- and nova- new- leading up to a rebirth in a stronger form. That would be more a reason to trust Dainichi Nyorai's protection, rather than the opposite.

"In simple terms, they explode. Smashed into infinite pieces."

"I see." Perhaps not.

"I wonder what would happen to Fudouson if that happened?" She spun the ring with the North Star on it lazily. "Well, human beings would probably just assign him to another star. If they still remember him as anything besides a tourist attraction, that is."

Youkai foresight was incomparable to that of humans. But this youkai had come up with an ominous and scientific-sounding explanation for a story that I had long hoped to be primarily superstition on their part.

"Thank you for explaining. I will prioritize your order as thanks for the information." So, please...

I had hoped to get her to leave my shop, but she was still looking at the inside of one of the rings. She traced the engraving there with her finger.

"She's the author, huh? Not artisan?"

That was why I had wanted to forget about the armillary sphere.

"She must have come up with these names herself. I wonder how many millennia ago? And I wonder if she based them on..."

The youkai girl suddenly looked at me, as if I'd interrupted her.

"May I purchase this, as well?"

Regrettably, I had forgotten all about her millions-of-yen statement.

"Just take it."

And so another ominous girl had entered my life without so much as a warning. Never mind her descriptions of stars turning to ashes, she was that sort of youkai, too.

Perhaps I should consider going to bed earlier.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Renko had realized some time ago that the armillary sphere would not fit in her pockets, and that it was unwieldy to carry. Yukari had promised to pick her up at the end of the night and given her a bit of pocket change, but it was now barely one in the morning, and no rescue from the curse of spherical objects seemed to be forthcoming.

Thus, she found herself carefully balancing it between her horns as she walked through the forest. A few times, it had sounded distinctively like bushes were laughing at her in a child's voice behind her back, but she tried to pay it no heed. She'd looked like more of an idiot than this in her life.

Her stomach growled, and she frowned. Breakfast had been hours ago, but she had gotten the impression from Yukari that thanks to that, she wouldn't need to eat often. Being laughed at by a bush was inconvenient enough as it was, but if she passed out in the middle of the woods, someone might come steal the fascinating instrument that she absolutely hadn't stolen herself.

She realized with a start that the armillary sphere really was her only concern. She'd be able to shoo off wild animals, and other youkai certainly wouldn't be interested in her as a meal. There were youkai exterminators, of course, but that was why she had a pocket full of pebbles and a litigational bent. Gensoukyou was there for her to explore without a care in the world. And she was truly part of it. Meant to be part of it, even, if Yukari's explanation for its creation held any water.

She floated gently up to the top of a nearby tree to get a view of her surroundings. A quick glance up told her that it was 1:13:39 AM, and she was facing to the north, somewhere in a certain quasi-national park. To her east, there was a great clump of light, with a makeshift watchtower visible. The village, probably. To her west, blocking out the stars, was an intimidatingly tall mountain. It, too, was dotted with lights, though far fewer. Individual homes, or more conscientious individuals. The waxing half-moon was high in the sky now, and she basked in its radiance for a moment.

She noticed a warm, flickering light nearby and to the west. It was close enough that it would only be a few minutes' walk, but if she dove into the trees, she'd lose it in moments.

Renko had an idea.

Holding the armillary sphere tight to her head with one hand, she tensed her legs. Then, catapulting herself into the air, she made a drifting, floating leap to the top of another tree. She nearly lost her balance on landing, but once she righted herself, she could see that she was closer to whatever the light was.

She repeated this a few more times. The light grew warmer still, and she began to smell the odor of grilled fish. Sure enough, as she drew closer, she began to see the familiar roof of a food stand, not unlike the ones that lined up just on the outskirts of campus to sell lunch at prices slightly below the exorbitant ones charged by the university.

A few more jumps, and she landed in the clearing. A bit harder than she would have liked— her heels dug a few inches into the humus and undergrowth. She managed to keep a hold on the armillary sphere, however.

A cheerful and slightly-too-loud voice greeted her. "Welcome!"

The proprietor— a girl who looked like she couldn't be older than a university first-year— had an almost entirely unremarkable face and appearance. Excepting, of course, the feathers protruding from the side of her head in the place where ears would normally go, in the same brown and buff as a tiny pair of wings. And the talons that she was using to grip a cleaver, though Renko had seen ones of similar size in foreign magazines.

Renko sat down at the bar. "Hello."

"Hello~!" The bird-woman practically sang. "What can I get for you?"

"Depends. What do you have?"

"We have grilled lamprey, grilled vegetables, and a wide variety of sake!" She beamed.

"...Lamprey?"

"How many?"

"Uhh...." Renko thought for a moment. Lampreys weren't exactly the most appetizing fish, but at least it wasn't their close relatives. She didn't think even the grilling could get rid of that much slime. "Three?"

"Three it is. Any sake?"

It was probably old-style alcohol, considering the location. "Do you have any drier varieties?"

"Sure. There's this junmai from the Genbu Ravine that many of my customers love. It's a bit pricey, but..." The girl shrugged. "I get the feeling you'd be able to afford it."

Renko checked her wallet. It held enough to buy six or seven bottles of high-quality sake in the outside world. "Let's go with that."

As the bird placed the lampreys on the grill, she began to sing.

"Flowers of the summer night~ Will they bloom or burn?"

"When their petals scatter, it's a bitter turn~"

Renko set the armillary sphere on the bar and took a sip of sake. The atmosphere was calming, and the full, earthy flavor of the drink matched well with the warmth she felt spreading to her extremities. The bird wasn't very good company, though. Her singing was a little bit too rough around the edges to be appealing without instrumental accompaniment. Probably electronic would be best. A keyboard, or an electric guitar...

Definitely an electric guitar, she thought.

Once the lampreys were served, though, she admitted that they were pretty good. Though not something she'd ever consider cooking herself, they had less grittiness than eel, if a peculiar aftertaste. The sauce was tangy and delicious as well, and she found herself ordering three more.

She was halfway through a fourth cup of sake when she saw motion in the corner of her eye, and looked over to her right.

Yukari sat leaning sideways on the bar. "Drinking all by your lonesome?"

"The bartender counts."

"I don't think she does, in your mind."

The bartender in question turned, holding a full plate of lampreys. "Welc—" Her eyes bulged. "Gah!"

Yukari waved a little. "Nice to see you again! You're the sparrow who mistook me for a human that one time, aren't you? Mistake, or something like that?"

The sparrow named Mistake set the plate down in front of Renko forcefully. "It's Mystia. And I didn't! You were just with the shrine maiden, who was my actual target."

"I seem to remember you singing quite a lot in my general direction."

"You're misremembering."

Yukari opened her fan. There was definitely a smile hiding behind it. "All right, Misremembering, can I get a bottle of the sake that she's having?"

The bird practically slammed an unopened bottle of the sake on the bar in front of her. "I said you're misremembering, not me! I'm charging you double for it, since you're being an ass."

Yukari passed her fan over the top of the bottle, and it opened. She poured herself a cup and took a gulp. "You know, if you're that angry about it, Missed Opportunity, you could always try to beat me again."

The bartender frowned. "I... I'm busy. I have my izakaya stand to run."

"I'm even alone this time. You promise not to interfere, right?" She looked over at Renko, quizzically. Renko nodded. "You'd have to be a real idiot to not try and regain your dignity here, Miscalculation."

With a long-suffering groan, the bartender ripped her apron and cap off. "Fine! Three cards, soaring rules! I don't want you to knock over the stand."

"Four cards, your initiation." Yukari floated off her barstool, then reclined languidly on a gap.

"Fine!" The bird shot up like a rocket into the night sky.

Yukari followed instantly, through falling backwards into space.

Renko grabbed her plate of eels and floated up to the roof of the food stand to get a better look. There was some indeterminate shouting— the voice's higher pitch meant it belonged to the bird— then an explosion of light, far away in the sky.

She blinked, then opened her eyes. Rings of red and blue arrows were filling the sky, like in an arcade game. Though with the number and the gaps between them, it seemed more like an early stage. They weren't even moving very fast. Then, she saw it— silhouetted against the moon, a figure was darting between them. Her long gold hair caught a glint of moonlight, and Renko felt her heart leap.

The figure closed in on the center of the arrows, and a more familiar voice gave a shout. Renko still couldn't make out the whole phrase, but she heard the word "barrier" somewhere in there. Large blue orbs of light began to fight for space with the arrows, and smaller blue orbs began to spiral out from the center of the formation.

Just as they were starting to overtake the other pattern, they stopped abruptly. Then, another shout from the sparrow, and blue arrowheads began to overlap across the sky, followed by indiscriminately chasing red ones. There wasn't much of a delay between it and another shout from Yukari, though— from this one, Renko heard the words "—insect's nest"— and sure enough, ethereal butterflies began appearing high in the air, chasing the bird, who flitted across the moon to dodge. They were followed by straight-line rays of light, indiscriminately cutting off movement. This time, Renko didn't miss what happened— the bird was hit by one of the butterflies, and both patterns stopped immediately. Seconds later, another shout— Renko snickered at the words, "Laplace's Demon".

But nothing seemed to happen immediately. Instead, Renko felt an odd sensation— like she was being stared at. The bird didn't seem to notice this, and began summoning a large number of ethereal, bird-like creatures. However, just as she shouted something about midnight and choruses, the sensation of being watched lifted, and a number of beams of light converged directly on the bird's location. She shrieked and half-fell, half-floated, to the ground. Yukari followed swiftly, but with more dignity.

Renko jumped off of the top of the food stand, having finished her lampreys. She placed her plate on the bar, then reached for her wallet. Yukari placed a hand on her wrist to stop her.

"Best two out of three?"

She addressed the grumbling pile of dirt and feathers on the ground. The pile sat up. Then it laid back down with a groan.

"You should really come up with new ideas. I think I've seen every one of those before." Yukari placed a cork in her bottle of sake and shoved it into her dress.

"I run a lamprey stand."

"Well, maybe if you started selling yakitori, you'd get more interesting customers to test your skills against?" Yukari said brightly.

The pile of feathers said something indeterminable.

A rift in reality appeared, and Yukari inclined her head towards it.

Renko opened her mouth to say "Shouldn't we—" but was quashed by Yukari putting a finger to her lips and grinning. She picked up the armillary sphere, and with a slightly apologetic wave to the sparrow which she wasn't sure was even visible from her position on the ground, followed Yukari into the gap.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

"You took quite a while."

Yukari was clearing some books off of a side table. The chiding was defanged significantly by the warmth in its tone, and Renko, lying on the floor, winked in her direction.

"You took a while, not me. I was staring at the sky the whole time you were fighting. It wasn't even one yet when you started, and it's nearly five now."

"Your accuracy has dropped. Can you see if there are any polishing rags under the table? Chen likes to play with them."

"I just don't want to get up and look out the window."

Renko rolled over to see under the table. It was clean enough, but there were some scattered ragdolls and what did indeed look like pieces of fabric. She batted a doll to the side and pulled out one of the pieces of cloth. It had the gritty residue of silver polish on it. She tossed it over in Yukari's direction, but, being cloth, it flew a few centimeters before fluttering towards the ground by Renko's side.

There was a dreadful ripping noise, and in a blink, the cloth was in Yukari's hand. She sighed aloud. "Now, where has the polish gotten to?"

"I don't know why you're going to all this trouble when you could just manipulate the boundary between silver sulfide and its component elements." Renko rolled under the table. "You do have some idea of what goes on with the periodic table, right?"

"I know what chemical decomposition is, yes. But what I don't is what some of these engravings say. If I try to reverse the reaction, the silver won't necessarily form in its original positions, and the writing might be lost entirely. Ah, there it is!" Yukari pulled a brown glass bottle out of her dress.

"It says you're its author, though." Renko was tossing one of the ragdolls from hand to hand. It was missing an eye, and its yarn hair had been torn unevenly, giving it a sort of mullet. It looked handmade, though, rather than store-bought. Clearly, someone's labor of love had gone into creating it.

Yukari glanced over. "You're playing with the cat toys now? You've gone stir-crazy in three days. This one isn't comprehensive, and some of the constellations have moved over time. A fully comprehensive armillary sphere would have writing so small as to be illegible to most youkai, not to mention humans. Or be the size of a room." She carefully began to work the polish into the crevices of the outer ring.

"There are a lot of stars that humans can't see but that do make some nice shapes, aren't there?" Renko tossed the ragdoll- well, cat toy- up in the air.

"Humans can't see them, yes, and they only have so many things that they can remember at once before they start to forget. It doesn't matter how wonderfully the daitengu constellation is shaped like a daitengu, if it's all the way in the Andromeda galaxy, they'd rather pick out the twelve that are easiest for them to see and drop it at that." That last was said sharply.

"People are pretty irresponsible, coming up with new stories and ideas and discarding them whenever something more satisfying comes along."

"They are selfish, aren't they? Even after the famines of the twenty-first century, they still don't think about the fate of the things they discard." She smiled at the now-shining outer ring. "Good! The tarnish hasn't eaten away at it enough to get rid of these entirely. Well, they did come up with an idea to sweep their nightmares under the rug after they stopped fearing them, but they've forgotten about that, too." The tip of Yukari's finger landed on the single marked lone star. "Not that it had any reason in the first place. The sun shining at night creates those very shadows that they fear."

"The full moon's near-daylight is the most unsettling of all." Renko sat up and tossed the doll back under the table.

"At the same time, though, if you understood that the moon shines thanks to sunlight, wouldn't it remind you that all nightmares end when you wake?" Yukari had begun working on the inner rings of the sphere. "Of course, by the time those adorable humans concluded that was the truth, they'd stopped coming up with beings to live in the stars entirely."

"Right, the idea was proposed in the 5th century, but people ignored it for ages." Renko stood up to peer over her shoulder.

"In a sense, the reason that humans have been able to toss out the wastebasket of their former delusions is just as nonsensical as they are. Tell me, what do you think would happen if a human working in the physics department of Kyoto University lost their fear of lasers?"

"They'd probably stick their hand right into one out of curiosity. Or their eyes."

"And what would happen?"

"They'd be burned by it, of course."

Yukari nodded, and without replying, began to polish the sphere's hinges. Even in the early morning light, it shone brilliantly. Renko wondered who would put so much work into something just to abandon it. She remembered what they were talking about, though, and frowned.

Yukari didn't notice. "That's right, I've forgotten. Do bears still exist in the outside world?"

"Yeah, all of them. Even the polar bears are doing okay." Humanity had needed significant breeding programs to support them and at one point had tried to introduce them into Antarctica, which now was, Renko supposed, also the Arctic. But they were alive.

"That's wonderful. Well, what do you think would happen if a human forgot that polar bears existed, and waltzed into the far northern land of Alaska?"

"They'd probably be eaten."

"Probably, right?" Yukari gave the rings an experimental twirl. "Much better."

"I think I get what you're aiming at, but can you explain it to me?"

Yukari put the silver polish and rag away somewhere, and walked over to the table to sit down. She pulled out an embroidery pattern- it looked like a horned crow, to Renko's eyes- and began to pick at it. Not knowing what else to do, Renko walked around to look at the artifacts lining the room. Several calligraphy scrolls, some in handwriting she recognized, some that she didn't. A bag of bonito flakes. The relic of a cathode-ray television, which in the past week, she'd not managed to find a way to turn on, despite knowing that the electricity worked. It had an unsettling feeling to it, but maybe that was just a broken flyback transformer.

Thinking about the clutter she'd left behind, the inside of their apartment was by no means empty now- it was being considered a crime scene, in all likelihood, empty bowls of cup noodles and all. It would be strange if her disappearance wasn't considered a kidnapping, what with Yukari's showiness in front of her entire graduating class. But then again, who had ever heard of a female university student being kidnapped by another woman her age in broad daylight? If belief was what defined reality, perhaps she was "kidnapped", but not by Yukari. A story that people could make sense— and voyeuristic podcast episodes— out of.

Maybe the letter that she'd written to her parents was being held as evidence, and they hadn't even seen it yet. Maybe they never would.

Strangely, this didn't make her feel any worse. They likely wouldn't be bothered too much by it, if their utter cold shoulder during Merry's disappearance was anything to go by. She might have disappeared off the face of the earth in an equally permanent and much less self-actualizing way, and they wouldn't have batted an eyebrow. She hadn't taken her exams for graduate school, and they had cared more about that than her roommate's— that is to say, girlfriend's— disappearance. She hadn't cared that much about a twenty percent salary increase when Merry was gone.

Probably never would have. There was nothing new to research, and most of the interesting jobs went to engineers anyway. Really, the world was empty for everyone, not just the two of them. Everyone else didn't realize it yet, though.

The only things left that deserved to be discovered and praised were whiling away their hours eating, drinking, chatting, and getting into fights in a corner of a quasi-national park.

"That reminds me. Isn't Ran usually around at this time of day?"

Yukari looked up from her embroidery. "Oh, she needed an update and reboot. The reason that she was acting so rudely towards you was that I had forgotten to add you as a new user. I had to do the same with Yuyuko, back in the day."

"Oh, alright. Carrying on from our previous conversation, do ghosts disappear when people don't believe in them, too?" Renko sat down.

"They lose their ability to influence the world around them, but a lack of belief can't just cause a soul to pass on. That sort of thing- human souls being trapped between this world and the next- has been happening more recently, as fewer and fewer humans celebrate Obon. It's a sad state of affairs. Yuyuko has been getting lonely."

"Why doesn't that happen to us? Losing our influence on the world around us instead of disappearing, that is."

"Most human beings still believe in a 'soul' of some kind, whether consciously or not. If a soul exists, the idea of a soul lingering in this world after death can, too." Yukari set down her embroidery. "I can't say for sure whether I'd prefer that to disappearing entirely, though."

"There's always a chance to return from it." Renko yawned. "Have you eaten?"

"Before coming to pick you up. You know, she was charging three times what that sake was worth. Six times, to me."

"That's always the way it is with food stands. Anyway, the difference between us and polar bears is that belief defined us into existence, so it can define us away."

"I should teach you how to fight properly. But... can it define us away? If it was simply the case that if humanity forgot about us, we disappeared, it would be natural, and make sense. Yet we're here. Gensoukyou, too, is here. We are creations of human belief, but it does not dictate our every action— or even enough of them to get rid of us in an age where humans have come to rely on the unfalsifiable once again."

Renko snapped her fingers. "It's like Urashima Taro. You can't shut the box after opening it, because we've already gotten out."

"If Urashima Taro found an elixir of immortality just in time. He's been insulated from most of the consequences of opening that box. Though he's still old."

"That's not a very good moral."

"It's not, isn't it? We youkai created another one that we like better, though. Did that shopkeeper tell you about what the constellations on that armillary sphere meant?"

"He told me about Polaris acting as a guiding light and protector of humanity."

"I see. So I'm assuming that he didn't tell you about the Celestial Dragon, then?"

"The Tenryuu marking on the Big Dipper?"

"Mhm. It points towards Polaris, right?" Yukari put her chin in her hands. "Youkai believe that someday- maybe now, maybe within a few thousand years- that very dragon will move to take Polaris' place in the night sky, destroying it and freeing us from the watchful eye of the Sun that promises an end to nightmares at dawn. However-"

"Oh, you mean when it's supposed to go supernova!" Renko jumped.

Yukari frowned. "Is it? I hadn't heard... I thought that stars needed to be larger— or older— to do that sort of thing? When did you hear about it?"

Renko grinned. "Polaris Aa is part of a trinary system. Even though it's only five solar masses and still hydrogen-burning, its hydrostatic equlibrium is destabilized enough that it could go kaboom any minute now. Everyone knows this."

"That's interesting to learn. It wasn't in any of the major journals that I've read. Do you remember where you found it?" Yukari was leaning over the table, eyes glinting a bit.

"Er." Renko sat back. "I'm not sure, actually... I'm sure that I'm right though. I feel like I read it somewhere that I'd never expect to lie to me."

Yukari put a finger to her lips. "Hmm."

"Hmm?"

"Not anything useful to discuss. Hey, what time is it?"

Her expression was somehow odd. Renko glanced out the window.

"5:43:15. Why?"

Yukari giggled for some reason. "You know, about that story?" She sounded almost giddy.

"The one about the Celestial Dragon?"

"The very same."

"What about it?"

"It's a lie."

The curve of her smile was at odds with her words. Renko blinked. "What?"

"A story that only we youkai believe in?"

"Yeah?"

"We youkai, who are empty beings? Whose belief means nothing? It's a sweet taste to help strong medicine go down easier."

"A way to help us feel at peace with drinking strong poison, then?" Renko felt a little bit let down. Dragons were interesting. So was the idea that someday stories wouldn't be banished to a backwater.

"Yes. Except... there's reason for it to be true outside of our own belief. Through you."

"I don't think the supernova of Polaris Aa is all that connected to it, though."

Yukari grinned, wide enough for the tips of her fangs to poke from behind her lips. "Well, you don't need to think anything. You, after all, are a youkai."

"What? Seriously, what are you talking about?" Renko scratched the base of her horns. "You're not explaining and then going on to the next thing right away."

"Like I said, your understanding isn't important. Here, at least."

Yukari, still smiling, produced a much larger brown glass bottle than earlier from nowhere in particular.

"But on that topic, how would you like some cider?"

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

—The human village at sunrise.

Compared to nightfall, when there was a bustle and scurry as the humans returned home, dawn saw only the odd particularly industrious farmer walking out to his fields, the harried fisherman hoping for a bigger catch before the fish realized he was out, and the rag collector ducking into alleyways to find scraps to sell for paper.

Youkai, too, were sleeping— those masquerading as human still found it too difficult to wake up at such an early hour, and those free to play throughout the night had long exhausted themselves through simple exertion.

It was at times like this that it was easiest to turn illusions into reason. The rowdy, cramped, yet peaceful paradise that resided in the human mind could have a beating heart just like this. People who still dreamt of such things lived here, too.

However, this was a land of phantasms, not ideals.

The representative of a nonexistent reality striding with purpose down the empty street, Yakumo Yukari, had defined it as such.

—Knock, knock.

I waited patiently at the weathered wooden gate. Repairing it always falls by the wayside when she is not here, and they've never thought to add a bell.

No matter how long or short your life is, there are always things that are important but not quite important enough for you to remember them. Unless, of course...

The gate opened. I smiled at the maid standing beyond the boundary. The expression on her face twisted, then froze in place, and she bowed deeply to hide it.

"I'm here to visit the Maiden of Miare." Though I could have let myself in, she would likely be a little less receptive to discussion if I did. This will be the first I've seen of her in this lifetime. And it was good to see the rest of the Hieda estate was as well-kept as always.

"Lady Aji?"

The maid said this as if all nine of the others were gathered in the library, discussing history together. At the image, and the idea that she had chosen such a ridiculous name for herself, I suppressed a giggle.

"If that's what she's going by now."

The maid bowed yet more deeply. That sort of position can't be good for the human spine for very long. It might be more easily broken. She turned to leave.

"I will pass the message that there is a youkai who wishes to speak to her along. Ah, could I perhaps have a name, or—"

I shook my head. "There's no need. You can simply lead the way."

"I'm not sure if that's..."

She trailed off as I stepped across the threshold, smiling expectantly. Taking the familiar path to the archives a bit too quickly, she tripped and nearly fell. I watched her catch herself and run ahead a bit as another maid emerged, rounding the corner of the porch. The other looked my way, then asked something to the first, to which the first shook her head and leaned towards her to whisper something in her ear. The other jumped, then hurried back around the corner. I kept walking. It was rather nostalgic.

As I rounded the corner, I heard a scuffling, and the pitter-patter of little feet. At first, I thought that it was a cat, but I saw that was curled up on a smooth stone by the pond, licking its fur. I looked towards the mansion, and the noise's source made itself known.

I had forgotten how few years had passed since her birth. However, she wasn't as small as she usually was at this age. It was probably an effect of that irritating sage's medical knowledge.

"Miss Yukari!"

I nodded. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Or perhaps 'it's good to meet you' is more appropriate?"

She smiled. "It's been a while. You're here for the Chronicle, right?"

"Is it not enough for me to want to visit an old friend and congratulate her on her rebirth?"

I folded my umbrella and sat. The maids had made themselves scarce somewhere. Perhaps some things had changed in a century. When I had visited Akyuu, they had at least had the nerve to watch from down the hallway.

"Maybe it would be, but I'm only eight. If you want to visit your old friends, you'll have to look elsewhere."

"If you intend to use that excuse for yourself, I hope that my article doesn't have any references to my age."

"You can take a look yourself. There are no more than last time. I did have to lower your human friendship level a bit, though. This way."

I kicked off my shoes and followed her inside. "What, just because of that? She's happier this way, you know."

"It's something that most humans want to avoid at all costs, and it started in the village itself. I have some guidelines I try to follow, whether you like it or not. You don't have any grounds to object, either. Human beings will be more afraid of you if anything, but nothing will change at all in most cases. Since nobody reads the Chronicle nowadays unless I shove it in their face." Aji slid open the archives' shoji door, and gestured for me to enter. "I've mostly been drawing today, so look at what you want. I'm nowhere near done yet, though. You're early."

I sat and inspected one of the bound and printed manuscripts. The book had an interesting feeling to it, but the words were clearer than ever. Someone had used movable type to print this.

"Speaking of that, has she visited you yet?"

"She's been visiting me for years. I had her print that for me. She first showed up when I was four, actually. You're late."

I decided to avoid a discussion on the contradictory nature of time, despite my enjoyment of the topic. "Do you really think it's a good idea for the Gensoukyou Chronicle to be a set of youma books?"

"It's not like she lives in it."

"That is true."

I paged through the book for a bit. The Heroic Legends section was as comedic as ever, though shorter now than it had been last. Well, the pace of Gensoukyou had been slowing for a while, to the extent that I'd been able to take some nice, long vacations. Only now was it beginning to pick up again.

Aji had become absorbed in her brushes, and seemed to be sketching me rather than doing anything more useful. I turned, and she flicked her brush across the page abruptly, then groaned.

"Why did you move? You've ruined it."

"I did no such thing. I just thought about something interesting that I read recently, but if you don't want to hear about it, I won't tell you."

"If you won't, then don't." Aji set to attempting to fix the line she'd drawn across my face.

"How much do you know about dragons?"

"Plenty. We're not on the ocean and they don't show up on land any more, though, so it's not useful at all. I'd like to forget it." She sighed. "Can you hold your fan in front of your face for a moment?"

"Like this?" I flicked it open to hide my smile. "You never know, though. The vampire tried to create an artificial sea once."

"Like that. Well, there is the dragon god statue, and you youkai have those legends about the stars. Neither case matters to humans, though. At least any more."

There was the opportunity that I had been waiting for. I pulled out the stack of papers I'd gathered, and set it on the desk in front of Aji.

"Look at this."

"What is it?"

"An article I got from a scientist in the outside world."

I had transcribed and formatted Renko's ramblings from a few nights ago in the style of a scientific journal, then printed them.

"I see. The language is a little complex."

"You could ask her about it. But essentially, the humans of the outside world have become convinced that the north star is going to disappear in less than a thousand years."

"Why is that?"

The article was right in front of her, yet she wanted me to explain its contents instead.

"They've decided to explain it through mathematics. But as to how they came up with the idea in the first place, who knows? Maybe the dragons out there told them."

"I suppose if any youkai were still out there, it would be them." Aji picked up the article and began to read. "The diagrams are nice, though."

I had spent a long time on them.

"Anyway, I thought you'd find it interesting." I stood, readying myself to leave.

"Right."

Aji was completely absorbed in the text. I turned and went.

By the time I managed to leave, the sun was high in the sky. I yawned despite myself.

I wonder, if we youkai hadn't been used to the sunlight by then, would a world like Gensoukyou ever have come to be? The world of humans is constantly changing, and we continuously adapt along with it. Even this village used to be the home of youkai exterminators, and now I'm walking through its streets half-asleep without a care in the world. Kyoto is like that, too. The spiritual capital of the land turned tourist trap and finally graveyard of illusions that still wears their faces. Humans are fine with changing their way of existence on a whim, because from their perspective, those changes are small. Incrementally, over time, they become unrecognizable to their previous selves, but looking back over the years, the function seems continuous. There's no turning point where it seemed impossible to turn back, or where a new chapter of their lives truly began.

We, on the other hand, remain fundamentally the same, no matter how drastically we change from day to day. Tengu are still tengu, whether they're writing newspapers or kidnapping monks. We simply adapt to new circ*mstances, without being molded by circ*mstance. At least, when it comes to our own actions. We are always ourselves.

If you combine something that's fundamentally unchanging and something that's changing in a panoply of ways each and every day, something interesting might happen. I'd like to see it.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

"73 seconds."

Renko spat out the grass in her mouth and looked up at Yukari's boots. The toe of one of them had been scuffed a little, but otherwise, they and the hem of her skirt were absolutely pristine.

"No good." She stood, wincing slightly. "I don't think I even landed a hit on you. Was your shoe scuffed up earlier?"

"It was." Yukari wasn't frowning, but she didn't seem happy, either. "Meaningless danmaku like that is easy to avoid. You need to try harder."

Renko thought that the Legendre polynomials weren't meaningless. They were intimately linked with several fields of physics and engineering. Danmaku following their pattern intrinsically had to hold meaning! Otherwise, nothing in the world did. It was just her own inexperience that made it way too easy to dodge.

"Don't you think this is a little unfair?"

Yukari folded her parasol with a snap and leaned down. Despite Renko's transformation, she still towered over her. "How so?"

"You've been playing real-life STGs for hundreds of times longer than I've existed. Of course you have all kinds of good ideas for spell cards. Meanwhile, I can barely fly, and you're telling me that I'm not trying hard enough to come up with unique danmaku. How do you expect me to win any of these?"

"I don't. If I thought you had anything beyond an outside chance of winning, I wouldn't let you shoot first." She tapped the top of Renko's head with her fan. "I expect you to win against others, not me. But for that, you need at least a basic understanding of what danmaku is."

Renko pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of her shirt pocket. "It's just curtain fire with the additional prerequisite that 'attacks without meaning may not be utilized', because the meaning of the attack becomes its power, isn't it?"

"So you do get it. Then why are you coming up with attacks that don't have any?"

"The Legendre polynomials are a cornerstone of physics." Renko stuffed the paper back into her pocket. "If that's not meaningful, I don't know what is. It's just that I'm not as strong or as fast as you are. So I can't dodge anything, and you can dodge anything I come up with."

The fan collided with the top of her head significantly harder than the last. "That's completely meaningless! How do you expect a spell card themed around an abstract mathematical concept that you think of maybe once a year and the rest of the time delegate to a shikigami to hold any power for you?"

"Ow! What was that for? If I don't understand the meaning behind 'meaning', then you should explain it, not just berate me for not getting it. That hurt." Renko rubbed her scalp.

Yukari gave a long sigh. "You're not human, you know. Your existence is meaning in and of itself. What does using the Legendre polynomials tell your opponent about you? Nothing at all." Yukari drove the tip of her umbrella into the ground. "What was the name of the attack that just shot you down? Remind me."

"I think it was called 'Incantation of Dreams and Reality', wasn't it?" Being chased across the sky by evil grains of rice had taken a toll on her short-term memory.

"Right answer. Do you think that that attack would be something that would communicate the idea of 'Yukari' to my foes? If so, why is that?"

"Well, yeah. You lived between dreams and reality for ages, against your will. So that's kind of a curse, isn't it? Would anyone you're fighting really understand that, though?"

"They don't have to understand. You simply have to tell them." Yukari poked her in the chest. "What's the meaning that you're holding in your heart? It's not the Legendre polynomials for you, just as it was never clinical psychiatry for me. Come now."

Renko wanted to protest and say that she was a physicist, that these things were important to her. But were they really? Even your average research physicist back in the day didn't specialize in the entire field. Had she tried to make every single subfield something with equal meaning to her, her brain would have exploded, for sure. So, particle physics, but only some parts of it- nobody with any sense cared about nuclei nowadays, or anything beyond those things that only held point-character. Nuclei were too easily observed, and too low-energy. String theory was unfalsifiable, of course, but it had always appealed to her, just like the idea of brane worlds. So, maybe...

Even then, though, there were five fundamental forces, with a fifth one completely unexplored. Could she really call herself a physicist if she didn't know anything about the huge gaps in reality lying in wait just outside the Unified Standard Model? Yukari had had ages to come to terms with how her understanding of the world had been upturned, but Renko only had her to lean on. If that was the case, how could she expect to win a fight as arbiter of reality against her source on how reality worked?

And more fundamentally, even if youkai were beings of inherent meaning...

"I don't even know what kind of youkai I am." She said weakly.

Yukari cupped her chin in her hand. "Well, obviously you don't. Do you think that I don't know that?"

"Can't you see boundaries? You should be able to tell me." Renko, a little tired from the fighting, couldn't help but lean into it a bit. "It would help me out a lot."

"Boundaries are defined by perception. Where 'other youkai' end and 'you' begin is fuzzy. I have some ideas, of course, but it would be dangerous to tell you what you are in your entirety." There was a nostalgic look in her eyes that Renko couldn't quite figure out. "Of course, it's dangerous to be a youkai without a defined meaning, too. There was that one incident with what we eventually discovered to be a menreiki... but more commonly, it leads to them fading away into nothing at all."

"I'd prefer that not to happen."

"I know. That's why I've been making you eat like you have been. If you're a youkai without a meaning- without a proper role- then, for now at least, you can fulfill the role of 'youkai' alone."

As if on cue, Renko's stomach growled. "You think that's why I've been so hungry?"

"Newborn youkai are like that in general." Yukari smirked. "An abstraction has to define itself. Many disappear within days or weeks if they don't, and becoming an enemy of humanity is an easy enough method." Her smile faded. "Though, most newborn youkai are a little less aimless than you."

"Why's that?" Renko leaned on her a little. She hadn't realized exactly how hungry she was before Yukari had mentioned it. Now, though, she felt lightheaded.

"Human lives don't really have meaning." Yukari wrapped an arm around her to steady her. "At least, not for very long. They flit between different meanings at incomprehensible speeds, like subatomic particles flitting between electronic environments. Humans who become youkai are usually a little different, though. Their lives have been so consumed by one meaning that they can't possibly exist as an ill-defined human any longer, so they simply cease to exist as one. This doesn't always mean becoming a youkai, of course— divinity, hermitry, and suicide are other options."

"Suicide isn't—"

"In the opinion of human belief, both of us are dead. It's really not that different. Regardless, though, you were slowly becoming a youkai after I returned to see you. I have a couple of ideas as to why that was, but they're not important right now. The important thing is that you weren't fully a youkai when you crossed to this side. You hadn't fully discarded that meaninglessness."

"I guess so." Renko slumped. "But I was becoming a youkai, so I was on the way to doing that, right?"

"Yes. There was some meaning that had started to consume your life. But, well, you 'died' before figuring out what it was. I'd like you to figure out what that meaning was."

It was so readily apparent that, for a moment, Renko wondered if Yukari had been hit on the head. "It was obviously wanting to stay by your side? Are you insane?"

Yukari's body shook a little next to her. Renko looked up with concern, and realized that she was laughing. "Well, of course it was that. I'm not an idiot, Renko. The meaning there is perfectly clear."

"Well, if that meaning is perfectly clear, I don't really see what I need to explain." Renko frowned.

Yukari brushed a piece of grass out of her hair. "That's the meaning, but is it really? You only want to be by my side?"

"This is like the time when you tried to dump me on a park bench." Renko grumbled. "You're making me justify things that should be hitting you in the face. I know you're not stupid, so stop it."

"If you just want to be by my side, then you'd be fine as my shikigami, right?" Yukari looked down at her inquisitively. "After all, Ran's always beside me. She's important to me, too. I'm sure you'd be better at her job."

"Of course not!" Renko elbowed Yukari in the gut. "That's not what I mean when I say I want to be by your side. I don't want to be your servant, or a weird computer."

"Well, that's a relief." Yukari smiled warmly. "Tell me, then, what do you mean by it?"

"This is just an excuse for you to get me to say that I love you, isn't it?"

"Not quite, though that's sweet to hear. It's an excuse for me to get you to explain what that 'love' means to you." She was still smiling.

"Well, I want to be with you, through whatever happens. I want to talk about philosophy with you, and try really bad teas, and read books, and explore places I've never been before. I want to help you when you're struggling, and I want you to do the same for me. Is that enough?" Renko stared at the ground to hide her red cheeks. "I don't think I can come up with anything else."

"Again, it's very sweet and kind of you, and it makes me glad to hear it. But I want you to think on why you want these things to happen with me." Yukari knelt a little and looked directly into Renko's eyes. "What brought you to love Merry in the first place? What brought you to continue that love when you saw me again, even though I had changed so much?"

"You're putting me on the spot here." Renko groaned.

"You don't actually have to tell me at all." Yukari shook her head. "That's not the point."

"Nice of you to wait until after embarrassing me to tell me that. What's the point, then?"

"Self-recognition through the other. I'm not sure you know about it- it is, after all, not a concept from a real science." Yukari looked more than a bit smug about that. "But I think that if you figure out what you were looking for in me— even though there are thousands of other girls out there with personalities not unlike mine, which falling in love with would have allowed you to live a normal life— you might figure out the meaning that you can't find yet."

"I see." Renko stared at her shoes.

"Oh, and it might help you figure out reason for the horns, which would be interesting, wouldn't it?" Yukari said brightly.

"That's true!"

It had been bothering Renko for a while that Yukari still looked perfectly human, while she very much did not. She hadn't been able to think of any deer youkai, either, so she was just stuck getting caught on low branches and staring at herself in the mirror in frustration without any explanation for it.

It wasn't that they looked bad, or anything. But she had gone twenty-two years without breaking a hundred and sixty-five centimeters. The horns- well, antlers, honestly, except for the fact that she hadn't shed them yet- were almost ten percent of her height at this point. And they were unnaturally colored, too. Instead of the brownish-yellow of keratin that you'd naturally expect for that sort of thing, they were stark white, with a bluish tinge- more like titanium oxide than any of the bones she'd seen in museums, even.

When asked to explain it, Yukari had tossed up her hands. She'd made mention of oni being former humans for the most part, yet still having horns. So it wasn't completely unheard of... but Renko was pretty sure that whatever she was, it wasn't an oni. Not that she knew how to explain that, either. It just didn't feel right.

So, if figuring out this whole meaning thing would put her mind at ease about those too, she was all for it.

"Do you want to help me come up with ideas for this over lunch?" Renko extended a hand.

Yukari shook her head. "It's a journey of self-discovery, not a journey of someone-else-discovering-you. You do have to figure some things out on your own. And I'm afraid I have an errand to run. Ran should have prepared lunch by now, though, so go along without me."

With that, Yukari abruptly walked out of both the conversation and reality itself.

Renko walked indoors. Sure enough, there was a covered plate on the table, and a note from Ran briefly apologizing that she too was on an errand. That was a shame. Even if Ran didn't like her much, she was a good sounding board for ideas— not that she could come up with any of her own, but she was decent enough at pointing out the obvious flaws, at least until she wasn't. The latter happened more often with Yukari's ideas than Renko's, not from the ideas' quality but from how Yukari obfuscated everything that she said.

Merry had had that tendency too. It was hard to decide whether she was more smug about it now or back when they were in university together. Well, then again, back then it had been an environment that had invited smugness. When everyone was plowing ahead with their preconceived notions and only cared about their grades or making business connections rather than thinking about things, it was easy to feel superior. Easier still when one went outside the university and realized everyone else was like that, too. In a sense, an AI like Ran was emblematic of that sort of world, so it was fun to tease her, too.

Renko lifted up the cover. Hamburg steak, with the rich scent of demi-glace wafting up from it. That was right, Ran had abruptly come up to her recently and asked her if there were any dishes common in the outside world that she liked. This must have been one of the ones she'd mentioned. She picked up a tomato slice and popped it into her mouth experimentally. The shiver that ran through her confirmed it; the sauce contained that, too. She chewed quickly, then dug into the steak itself. It wasn't as if she minded the flavor in the slightest— it was similar to pork, with a slightly tangy undertone she found interesting— but that she'd eaten it at least once a day for the past week without getting tired of it had been getting a little concerning to her, prior to Yukari's explanation earlier. But if she did need it to avoid her journey of self-discovery coming to an end at an accelerated pace, it made more sense.

Still, meaning, hmm. Merry's meaning to her... It had definitely been a little selfish at first. Wanting to explore other worlds like her great-aunt had had led her into dead end after dead end all throughout high school. She'd considered disbanding the club entirely, but Kyoto had so many legends that she'd decided to give it a little bit more time, just in case Tokyo was a particularly bad dead end. She'd never been able to visit Nagano back then— her parents forbade it— and that was where Sumireko had done most of her investigations, even if she'd eventually ended up accessing Gensoukyou from Tokyo anyway. But Kyoto hadn't been successful either. She'd been kicked out of every room in the university she tried to use to organize evidence, and had been, if anything, less likely to find strange spots. Then she'd run— stumbled face-first, really— into Merry.

She took another bite of steak. There was one facet of the flavor that she did find a little strange- or, to be exact, the lack of a certain facet. Not that hunting and trapping were allowed anywhere in Japan nowadays, but the texts she'd read before to find out more about the occult past of hunting had always specified that if you didn't kill the animal quickly, the meat would taste worse. Stress hormones— adrenaline and cortisol— were bitter, thanks to their many amine and hydroxyl groups. Modern lab-grown meat didn't contain any of those, of course, and most artisanal farming methods nowadays (and supposedly, back before lab-grown meat was common, industrial farming methods, though there was heated argument about that) made things as painless and stress-free as possible. A lot of that was probably due to human beings' natural moral compunctions, but no doubt some was to preserve the taste of the meat. However, if youkai lived off of human terror, that sort of farm-animal treatment wouldn't be possible. So the steak really should have been bitter, and yet it was not in the slightest.

She hadn't actually known about Merry's ability at first. She'd thought her eyes were creepy from the beginning, of course, and that Merry knew things she shouldn't. It was only a few days before their first expedition— the trip to Rendaino— that Merry had casually mentioned that if there really was an entrance there, she would be able to see it, so Renko shouldn't worry. From then on, Renko had been obsessed. A way to find the boundaries into other worlds had just dropped into her lap, even if she couldn't really see them herself. Kyoto had been boring her to death, and reading about Sumireko's exploits in Tokyo had just made her sad. But with Merry's power, she too could be a proper esotericist.

—Of course, it had just been noticing extant cracks in the boundary at first. The human heart is full of contradictions, so in a world filled with so many human hearts and minds, contradictions would pop up, too. Like physicists still getting published in the world's best journals for findings that were meaningless. Renko hated it. Merry gave her hope that that wasn't all that there was. But then, true travel to other worlds, with no need for an extant flaw in the membrane wall. The truth was, everything and everywhere overlapped with that world that modern physicists chose to ignore in favor of confirming their extant theories to nine sigma. There weren't any flaws in it on the femto-scale, and observing anything smaller was ridiculously expensive and materially difficult to engineer. And the chemists and materials scientists, quite reasonably under the circ*mstances, were more interested in steady salaries than chasing another percent of a percent of a percent of a percent of a reduction in error for barely double minimum wage.

The idea of anomalies on the human scale was something that nobody considered. Except, of course, for occultists and Merry. The occultists weren't interested in explaining it, and to Merry, they were just things that happened to her, rather than true experiments. At least until after TORIFUNE. After that, Merry had become more and more able and willing to expose boundaries of her own will. Not just between worlds, but between times, the self and the other, extant places within the world of reality...

Renko had come to care about her long before that. Someone with Merry's understanding of the state of the world was hard to come by, and they'd gone on so many adventures together, something had begun to bud there. But Merry began suggesting projects, coming up with ideas. Engineering new points of access to other worlds, dragging Renko along with her. The lack of control had been unsettling at first. Even as an esotericist, Renko wasn't anything special. Sure, she had her eyes, too, but they were passive. She couldn't tune reality to her key. The apprehension had faded soon enough, though. She'd realized it.

If Merry could show the truth of the world to her, she could show it to everyone. People would realize that no matter how much they knew of the world, they couldn't ever understand it. It was easy to know the theory behind turbulence. It was impossible to understand on a deep, fundamental level, beyond trusting the mathematics. If you could somehow show the physicists someone who could make thermodynamics freely dance to her tune, what would they do? No matter how perfectly Laplace's demon knew reality, it couldn't convince anyone that it knew the true locations and momenta of those particles. That was what had prevented them from demonstrating it right away when they'd started to expose other worlds. A far more fearsome demon had lurked there all along—Maxwell's.

—That was to say, it had lurked there until it clashed too much with the beliefs of humanity. It did not stop existing— this world, Gensoukyou, proved it, no matter how dreamlike it seemed. It was just banished to the dark, cobwebbed corners of the human mind. Exactly like the original demon had been banished by the Landauer principle, so nobody had to consider the paradox any longer. Renko had never gotten the opportunity to prove to the scholars of physics that they were by no means scholars of truth in the first place, as much as she had wanted to.

So that was why staying at Yukari's side was so important, at least. Having finished her steak, Renko walked over to put her dish in the sink, and sighed. All of that thinking, and she'd barely managed to come up with even a scrap about herself. This search for meaning was proving difficult.

There was a tearing noise behind her, and something heavy landed on her back. She reached behind to find a gloved arm.

"Hey, Yukari."

"How was it? Did you figure out anything interesting?"

"Maybe a little." Renko turned. Half of Yukari was leaning out of a gap, propping itself up on Renko's shoulders and smiling. She seemed to be in a good mood.

"That's very good! I'm proud."

"Are you going to tell me your ideas yet?"

"Of course not. Especially when you haven't told me yours."

"I need to think on them a little more first."

"That's acceptable. I brought you this." Yukari held out a piece of paper. Renko took it.

"The Hakurei Shrine's Annual Grand Spring Festival? Isn't it already May? The cherry blossoms weren't even blooming when I got here."

There didn't seem to be any price of admission, though, which was appealing. Most shrines in the present world charged exorbitant fees to attend festivals, as spiritual paraphernalia was less popular in the modern day.

Yukari frowned. "May is a part of Spring. What kind of guideline are you going by?"

"Well, I mean, technically, yeah, but if it gets up to thirty degrees during the day, I'm not going to really count it as Spring. Are you going to be attending?" Renko gestured to the sheet of paper.

"I am uninvited." Yukari shrugged. "The weather might surprise you, too."

"I wasn't invited either, though. Unless this flyer counts?"

"Oh, I mean that I'm uninvited. As in, I'm unwelcome. You should be fine. The festival is open to most everyone." Yukari grinned. "I might slip in after it begins, though."

"How did you manage that..." Renko inspected the rest of the poster. Food stands, live music, free booze. It sounded fun. "Well, I should get out more anyway. What am I supposed to do if someone asks me what sort of youkai I am, though?"

"Saying 'it's a secret' is foolproof. Though don't be surprised if people try to make guesses."

"Right. That should be a fun way to spend the night next week. Maybe meet some new people?"

"I'm looking forward to it, myself!"

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Renko floated lazily over the treetops. Though her flight speed was still no good, her maneuverability had increased considerably. Now she could hold her own in a fight with Yukari for almost ten minutes before crashing and burning. She'd come up with a couple of spell card concepts of her own, too.

It was 4:30:21 in the afternoon. She had fallen asleep dreadfully early in the morning from exhaustion, but when she'd looked out the window after waking up during the heat of the day she'd realized that it was a good idea to arrive early. So, she'd set out from the northeast of Gensoukyou to its southeast at 3:29:44, and the shrine was now in sight. She could see the animal trail she'd walked down when she'd come to Gensoukyou to look for Yukari. A few people were walking down it, but from this height, they were specks. She probably was to them too. Maybe she looked like a blackbird, with her cape's red lining. More likely, though, they weren't looking at her at all.

She flew over an enormous tree, and looked down. The shrine grounds were there, speckled with stands. The awnings were missing from some of them, though, and no one seemed to have ascended the stairs yet. There was one person there, rushing back and forth between the shrine building and the stalls like a particularly addled ant. The festival's host?

Renko quietly descended next to the tree, and walked around towards the shrine entrance so as not to bother her. Maybe it was bad luck not to go through the torii, but if youkai were invited to this festival, it probably didn't matter too much. Either the god was particularly accommodating, or particularly lazy.

Just as she rounded the corner of the row of stalls, something collided with her and made a squeaking noise. Renko looked down, and saw a young girl all dressed in red and white, with a white bow in her black hair. The bow seemed to be purely decorative, though, as most of the rest of it had fallen into her face. On the ground beside her was a rather ornately decorated purification rod, with a pewter grip at one end. Weren't shrine maidens supposed to wear ponytails? Wasn't that the sort of thing you'd expect?

Renko considered about helping her up for a moment, then thought better of it. It was obvious somehow that the shrine maiden was nervous about something, and a youkai putting her hands on her— even if it was just to get her upright again— could put her more on edge. And even if youkai extermination wasn't really like that in the modern day, it was a festival. It wouldn't be a good idea to start a brouhaha this early.

The shrine maiden got up without brushing her hair out of her face. She seemed to brighten up immediately, though Renko couldn't see her expression. "Oh! There you are!"

Before Renko could respond, the shrine maiden grabbed her arm and started dragging her towards the main shrine building.

"Aunn, you really have to let me know how long your trips are going to be. I don't mind the info on the Moriyas, but I've been preparing for the festival all by myself. Kasen's not here yet, and Genjii won't help me put up the awnings because he wants to sleep. So I've been having to climb on the stands to put them up, and people are going to get here soon. Can you put them up for me?" She picked up a bundle of cloth and shoved it into Renko's hands, then moved her hair back behind her ears. She jumped.

"Wait, you're not Aunn."

"I'm not, no." Renko shook her head.

"Well, whoever you are, since you didn't try to bite me when I dragged you over here, you're smart enough for me to tell you to put up these awnings. I'm going to go set up the chairs on the stage for the music." With that, she dashed off.

Renko walked back to the stands. They were in fact pretty tall. In the outside world, you'd be able to buy ones which folded and unfolded easily, but these were wooden constructions. Had the shrine maiden put them together all by herself? At her height, that was an achievement. She set to floating up above the stands and putting on the awnings. It took a surprisingly low amount of time— 10 minutes and 57 seconds from start to end— and when she alighted, the shrine maiden was descending from the stage.

"Alcohol's ready, stage's ready, stands are ready... I've set up my stand to sell amulets... I think it's as good as it gets until people start showing up."

Renko raised an eyebrow. However old the shrine maiden was, she definitely wasn't an adult. "Your age, and you're going to be drinking?"

"Since when is that any of a youkai's business? If I'm old enough to resolve incidents, I'm old enough to drink." The shrine maiden folded her arms.

"...How old is that, exactly? Oh, and who are you, anyway?" Renko had been calling her the shrine maiden in her head, but she actually had no idea if that was her true occupation.

"Hakurei Touka. 13 years old." The girl tapped the grip of the purification rod on the ground for emphasis. "I'm the Hakurei shrine maiden, but it makes sense you don't know me. I got the job a little over a year ago. This is my first time hosting the annual spring festival."

Renko nodded. "Usami Renko. Old enough to know better. How did you get the job at such a young age?"

Touka shrugged. "When I was born, my parents couldn't afford to take care of me, so I was picked as the next Hakurei shrine maiden when I was really little. At least, so I'm told, but I don't really remember them. All I remember is that I got to live as not-technically-an-orphan. Though I basically lived alone anyway, except when that fox and Ibarakasen visited. You've heard of Kasen, I bet."

Renko shook her head. "I'm not familiar."

"She was supposed to help me set up the festival, but she's not here. Anyway, one of you guys broke the rules last year and killed my predecessor, so I ended up getting the job early. Supposedly I'm the youngest shrine maiden in over a hundred years." Her tone was matter-of-fact the entire way through.

"That's unfortunate."

"Well, it's not your fault, otherwise you would have eaten me when I thought you were Aunn. Unless this is some weird psychological game you're playing, and if it is, I don't care. I can just exterminate you anyway. Because I'm a genius." The shrine maiden pointed at something by her foot that Renko had seen earlier and thought was a soccer ball. "And I have the yin-yang orb."

"You probably shouldn't go around telling people the methods you have available to exterminate them." Renko scratched her head. "It's like showing off your weaknesses."

"I'm a genius, so it doesn't matter." The shrine maiden shrugged. "What kind of youkai are you, anyway? Fair's fair. I told you my weaknesses, so you can tell me yours."

Renko couldn't help but smile at that. "Not how it works. That's classified information."

"How do you vacuum seal information?" Touka frowned.

"No, the other spelling..." Renko looked at her blank expression. "Actually, never mind."

Without warning, Touka grabbed her arm again and dragged her behind a stall. She hissed. "Don't come out until way more people show up or I'll exterminate you. You'll scare away all the visitors."

"Fake exterminate or real exterminate?"

"You'll find out if you don't listen!"

With that, the shrine maiden dashed away again. Renko peeked out from behind the stall. A group of humans dressed in what looked like Taisho period clothing were walking through the shrine gate, and Touka had run over to greet them fervently. One of them was carrying what looked like a takoyaki pan, and another had bags that she assumed were of ingredients. Right, it was about time for people running stalls to show up.

Renko stayed hidden as a few more groups began to appear. Some of them went to stalls, while others milled around aimlessly chatting. Still no other youkai yet, though. Maybe they thought it would be a bad impression to come here so soon after what happened to the previous shrine maiden?

Just as she thought that, a gasp went up from the crowd, and she saw some people pointing at the shrine gate. Looking over, standing atop it were a pair of girls in brightly colored outfits arguing. It was already a little odd for them to be so high up, but then again, these weren't normal girls. Atop their heads were white rabbit ears.

The one in the blue yukata seemed to be threatening the one in the orange with a mochi mallet, but the latter didn't seem too concerned. She was soon proven right when the blue one took a swing, missed, lost her balance, and tumbled off the shrine gate entirely, narrowly missing a visitor.

The orange one jumped off the gate and was about to continue the argument when Touka's voice loudly sounded from the middle of the crowd. The visitors parted like the sea as she stomped towards the gate, still shouting. "You two moon rabbits, cut it out right now or I'll kick you out! This is a festival, not a place for you to start a kerfuffle. Set up your dango stands now or you're leaving with amulets between your eyes."

Chastised, the moon rabbits apologized, and headed over to opposite sides of the shrine plaza to set up their stands.

More people began to filter in, mostly in vintage-looking, if bright, clothing. There were some oddities even among them, though. One girl in a red-white-and-green taisho roman outfit somewhat unsubtly floated through the gate, seemingly realized where she was, and landed quite firmly with a jingling sound. There was also a middle-aged lady who was completely unassuming except for the extraordinarily large leaf that seemed to be stuck in her hair.

For the most part, though, the not-so-human visitors were fairly obvious. Exceptionally showy, complicated styles, strange hair and eye colors, appendages that human beings distinctly didn't have. The instruments of the band which had showed up to play were quite literally floating in midair.

Renko ducked out from behind the stand. People were laughing and talking, and she didn't stand out that much, except for the horns. She headed over to the stand of that poor rabbit who had fallen off of the shrine gate and picked up some dango, then started wandering aimlessly.

This time it was her turn not to watch where she was going. She was heading over to a stand that looked like it was selling live goldfish when she slammed into something very sturdy and nearly fell. At first she thought she'd hit a tree, but then the rather pink-leaved tree turned and began speaking to her.

"You should be more careful. It gets crowded at festivals like this, and you wouldn't want to knock someone over, would you?...Oh!"

The so-called tree's pink eyes widened, but Renko didn't notice any shock in particular. Sure enough, though they were widened by the dim light, her eyes were unmistakably slits, as a nocturnal animal's. The hand which she was holding over her mouth was entirely covered in bandages. Renko instantly got the impression that there was something wrong with it beyond simple wounds.

"Oh?" Renko took a bite out of her dango. Belatedly, she realized that she hadn't apologized, but it didn't matter anyway. She would not have hurt this woman if she had run into her at the speed of a freight train.

"I haven't seen a youkai like you in a very long time, that's all." The suspicious woman inclined her head. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Ibaraki Kasen, the hermit."

The connections fell into place swiftly. The oddly placed hair buns, the bandaged arm, the shackle on the other, the cat's eyes. "Nice to meet you. My name's Usami Renko. But aren't you a y-"

The "hermit" slapped a hand over her mouth. "Shh!" She glanced to the side. "Not right now."

Renko nodded wordlessly. She still had no idea what the "hermit" meant by "a youkai like you", but also didn't want to ask that sort of question right now.

Said "hermit" sighed with relief. "Good, you're reasonable. You look like a deer, so I imagine you don't make others as nervous as you really should. Still. Are you enjoying the festival?"

"Sort of. I haven't been able to get any sake yet, though. It's crowded around here." Renko looked around. "You probably noticed that, since I bumped into you."

Kasen nodded. "It usually clears up once it gets darker. You didn't know because you're from the Outside, right?"

Renko frowned. "Hm?"

"Your clothes aren't mass-produced, but the seams were definitely made by an electric sewing machine." Kasen pointed at the hem of her cape. "Plus, you have the same name as that girl. She's the one who told you about Gensoukyou as you were fading away, right? When you couldn't even remember who you were anymore?"

"Just who are you?" An oni who knew not just about the Hifuu Club's first president but even about modern sewing techniques. Someone who could visit the modern world without fading away like Yukari, probably. Yet she was pretending to be a hermit?

"Someone who holds human and youkai coexistence very close to her heart. In that sense, you're a great omen for me." She smiled. There wasn't even a hint of malice to it. "I'm glad you managed to find Gensoukyou before you faded away entirely."

"Me too." Even if she hadn't been able to fade away as a youkai would, her personality definitely would have if she'd stayed. So in that sense, Kasen's congratulations were deserved. "Oh, one thing, though."

"Yes?"

"Weren't you supposed to help Touka set up for the festival? I ended up helping her put the awnings on the stands, but she seemed disappointed."

Kasen gasped. "I completely forgot! I've got to check in on her. She's been very good over this past year." She beckoned towards Renko. "Here, come with me."

The two of them wove through the crowd. Neither was especially tall- Kasen's definitely-not-horns didn't even significantly add to her height- but Kasen evidently had more familiarity with these festivals than Renko did, and thus was able to politely inquire, shout, and shove her way to the shrine main building. Touka was sitting there on the porch.

"Oh, it's you, Kasen."

Kasen visibly bit her tongue at the rude greeting. "Hello, Touka. Renko here told me about the good job you did setting up the festival all by yourself."

Touka shook her head. "Aunn helped me put together the stands. She left earlier today to go spy on the Moriyas, though. And I couldn't get the awnings on by myself."

"Still, you did very well! I'm proud of you." Kasen nodded. "You're a hard worker. Did you get all of the amulets sold like I told you to?"

"You're not my mother no matter how much you act like it. I don't have one." Touka put her chin in her hands. "But yes, I did. It should be enough to pay for food for the next two months."

"Wonderful!" Kasen clasped her hands together.

"You're such a weirdo." Touka picked up the yin-yang orb and started to roll it back and forth on the porch beside her. "That one's a weirdo too. She's way too polite for a youkai. If you tell her to do something, she'll just do it, like she's never heard of complaining before."

Renko interjected. "Would you rather have gotten into a fight instead of hosting your first festival?"

Touka yawned. "No, but you guys usually don't care about that."

"Youkai like festivals too." At least, they probably did? From where Renko could see, a pair of poorly-disguised bakeneko were arguing over by the goldfish stand. Some suspiciously short-looking girls, all dressed in blue coverall dresses, were showing off what seemed to be a fully-mechanical boa constrictor. And a woman who couldn't have been more than a foot and a half tall was climbing over the tops of the stalls tossing coins down to the festivalgoers.

"Yeah, but you get to see a lot of them." Touka yawned again. It seemed that it was getting late for her. "You can mess one up once in a while and feel sure that there's going to be a next time."

Kasen cut in. "Well, regardless of whether that's true or not, this youkai is a good omen, so you shouldn't assume such things of her, all right?"

Touka frowned. She stood up. She looked Renko in the eye, then began to walk around her in a circle. Renko stood still, feeling slightly bemused. It was nice to be appreciated, yes, but...

"Hmm." Touka came back around to face her. "She doesn't remind me a lot of Keine, but I guess Keine's half-human."

"She's also not a hakutaku." Kasen pointed out, unhelpfully.

"Yeah, I noticed that."

"I noticed that too." said Renko. She was hoping that someone would come up with an idea for what she actually was, but none seemed forthcoming.

Touka shrugged and sat back down. "Well, I'm not going to listen to everything you say. But she is polite, so she can sit and drink with us. Do you know when Aunn's going to come by?"

Kasen sat next to the shrine maiden, separating her from the bottle that had been resting nearby on the porch. "I haven't seen her, no."

Renko went to sit on Touka's other side, next to the yin-yang orb, but Kasen's nearly-imperceptible flinch caused her to change her mind and find a spot next to the "hermit" instead. "Who's this Aunn anyway?"

Touka reached over Kasen and grabbed the bottle before she could react with anything beyond an indignant noise. She filled a cup and shoved it Renko's way. "If you're a good omen or something, you'll probably appreciate this. Sacred sake for the shrine."

Wasn't that supposed to be for the gods? Renko took a sip, and tried not to make a face. It was exceptionally cheap old-style sake, the kind she'd purchased at the grocery store more than once after getting a taste for alcohol but no salary to match.

It did make sense, though. Nobody was interested in donation to shrines beyond perfunctory measures in the modern world, and the barrier was thin enough here for someone to fall asleep and slip through. In all likelihood, it was that very sake.

"Thanks."

Touka waved it off. "Don't worry about it, don't worry about it." She took a gulp of her own. "It's not that enjoyable for humans, but it does the job. Oh, Aunn's the shrine's komainu. She lives here and doesn't cause too much trouble, so I have her help me out with work sometimes. She's nicer than Kasen."

A living komainu... Well, those statues were meant to represent something. It would be nice to meet her. With how everyone else was treating her, a guard dog might not even try to ward her off. She could get used to being a good omen.

A leaf landed in her cup, and she picked it out with two fingers. Kasen and the shrine maiden appeared to be arguing about something— probably Touka's alcohol consumption habits as a thirteen-year-old. The live music had switched from sounding like a festival to something downright jazzy, and there was a general sense of good cheer in the air compared to the earlier tension when guests had just started to arrive.

Her idea to come early had been a good one after all.

Just as Renko thought that, there was an earsplitting crash, and Touka jumped up with a shout, dropping her sake cup in the process. She dashed by the pair of youkai on the porch, and Renko felt a prickling sensation as the yin-yang orb, pursuing the shrine maiden, narrowly missed her face.

"Genjii—!"

Something else whizzed past Renko's vision, and as her eyes followed it, she found it was a giant, flying turtle. It came to a halt next to the shrine maiden, and she unsteadily clambered on, wheeling around the corner of the shrine. Renko, much less unsteadily, followed.

What she saw was unsurprising for the noise, but still gave her pause. A small shed, abutting the shrine but not quite touching it, was surrounded by a cloud of thick dust. And it wasn't difficult to tell why; the door that had once no doubt concealed the shed's contents had flown off its hinges and was lying on the ground, and there was a sizable hole in the roof. Within the cloud of dust, however, there floated a legless human figure.

"You!" Touka pointed her gohei at the figure angrily.

"Yeah, me." The figure waved dust out of its face with what looked, in silhouette, like a fan. "How long has it been since I got stuck in there? What number shrine maiden are you?"

"I'm the 19th Hakurei shrine maiden, Hakurei Touka!" Touka leaned to steady herself. "Wait, no, I'm the one who's supposed to be asking questions. Who are you?"

"You said 'You!' without knowing that?" The figure's voice was exasperated. It waved the "fan" around some more, and its hand escaped from the dust for a moment, revealing it to be a fistful of amulets. "Who do you think I am, seriously?"

"You're an evil spirit who haunts this shrine! I read about you in the other shrine maidens' records." Touka puffed up her chest, lost her balance, and grabbed the turtle's shell nervously. "I'm gonna seal you back up where you're supposed to go!"

"Honestly..." A head appeared from the dust, wearing a frown, black hair, and a red bow on the back of its head. "There are enough evil spirits haunting this shrine without calling me one, too. I wasn't going to get in an argument with you, since your predecessor is the one who shoved me in the stupid warehouse without so much as a greeting, but if you want to fight, we can have a go at it. You'll lose, though."

"Gimme your name to write down before I send you right back to Hell!" Touka stood up majestically, an impressive state of balance given her inebriated state and the somewhat unstable turtle she was riding on.

The spirit floated up out of the dust, revealing a red shirt and hakama, a yellow ascot, and a smug grin. "You're a hundred years too early to seal me! I'm Hakurei Reimu, the lovely phantom of paradise, and I'm gonna teach you to respect your elders!"

Renko saw the expression of shock on Touka's face for only a second before amulets started flying. She ducked back around the corner, where she was met by Kasen and a short girl with green, curly hair. She waved to the latter. "Hello."

The girl bounced on her feet enthusiastically. "Hello! Are you one of Touka's new friends? I've been worried about her, since she hasn't been getting along with anyone lately, but if you're her friend, it could be wonderful! Even if you are a youkai. What's your name?"

"I'm Usami Renko. You? Oh, and do either of you know who that weird ghost is?" Renko peeked around the corner. "Dressed all in red with white sleeves. Tosses amulets. Calls herself Reimu."

"Oh!" The green girl leapt. "That's Hakurei Reimu, the first shrine maiden I ever knew! She and I go way back. I'd been wondering why I hadn't seen her around recently... Right! I'm Komano Aunn, the komainu! Pleased to meet you." She stuck a hand out to Renko, who shook it with some reticence.

Kasen nodded. "I have some history with Reimu too. Aunn, Renko's from the Outside World. Please be nice to her, okay?"

"Okay!" Aunn glanced around the corner. "I don't think Touka's winning." She said brightly.

The hermit gave a small smile. "I wasn't expecting her to."

"Well, she did beat that one creepy youkai that one time." Aunn crouched down with her hands on the porch's planks. "I kind of figured she was a prodigy thanks to that."

Kasen sighed. "You could learn her name, you know. She shows up here often enough."

"I don't wanna. She's just the purple one to me."

"That is her name!" The hermit snapped. "Why am I the only one who ends up remembering it..."

"Probably because you're obsessed with her." Aunn glanced around the corner and winced. "Ooh, that was a good hit."

"I am not obsessed with—"

Renko interrupted. "You two know Yukari?"

Kasen grimaced. "I do, yes."

Aunn shook her head brightly. "I don't talk to her."

"So you've said." Renko patted her on the head. "How do you know her? I met her coming to Gensoukyou, as you could probably guess. But she's an interesting acquaintance for a hermit."

Kasen put a hand on her chin. "Hmm. That would take some explaining... Would you like to come and stay with me after the festival?"

Renko coughed loudly and looked at the wall.

On the one hand, Yukari had said that she might show up later during the festival. On the other hand, she didn't seem to be showing up. On the other other hand, what if she made Yukari worry about her or she got jealous? On the other other other hand— Renko thought halfway through that only Yukari had this many other hands—it wasn't like anything could hurt her, and Yukari had introduced her to Yuyuko very quickly after they'd met again indeed. On the other other other other hand, Kasen and Yukari seemed to have some kind of history, and it didn't seem to be entirely pleasant?

On the other other other other other hand, maybe she was just misreading signals entirely.

She opened her mouth to say "Well—" but was interrupted by something landing at her feet, hard.

That something revealed itself to be a turtle shell which, in due course, revealed itself to be a turtle. Said turtle nodded, gave a perfunctory "Good evening, madam." and trundled off.

It was quickly followed by the phantom— Reimu— holding something in her arms. She set it down on the porch, and it got up with a groan.

"Don't get into spell card duels drunk."

Touka nodded glumly.

The phantom smiled. "It's nice to see you again, Kasen. Even if you're doing just as bad of a job with the new shrine maidens as you did with me."

"It's not my fault if none of you ever listen to my advice." Kasen put her bandaged arm on her hip. "It's good to see you too. I had wondered if something bad had happened."

"Well, it did. Though I guess I don't have anyone to blame for it now." She sighed. "Can you please try and give them a hand sometimes when I'm not around?"

"I can't be here every hour of every day, Reimu. You should know well enough yourself— you spend enough time in the Forest of Magic."

"That's because Marisa gets lonely. On an unrelated note, who's the annoying one?" The phantom pointed at Renko.

Renko pointed at herself. "Usami Renko."

"Why do you have the same name as other annoying people? You know what, I don't care." Reimu looked over to Kasen with a pleading look in her eyes. "Can you tell me whether I need to chase her out or not?"

Kasen shook her head emphatically. "Not at all. Her kind are actually a very good omen! It's lucky to be seeing them in Gensoukyou again after close to 300 years."

Reimu stared at Renko.

Renko stared back.

Reimu kept staring.

Renko, not knowing what else to do, did the same.

Eventually, Reimu blinked. "You're telling me that that's a good omen?" She jerked a thumb dismissively in Renko's direction.

The hermit frowned. "Yes?"

"The creepiest, most suspicious, most ominous thing I've seen since Season 119?" She frowned.

"I feel a little hurt." Renko said lamely. Everyone had been treating her unexpectedly kindly.

Far from calming her down, this seemed to incense the phantom further. "You see? She even talks like that! Like she has no idea what you're talking about when you call her suspicious, even though she is. I can see her bewitching Touka, she's an idiot, but you're a youkai."

Touka's eyes widened, and she looked between Kasen and Reimu with shock.

No one else showed the slightest surprise.

"See what I mean by idiot?" Reimu gestured wildly.

"You didn't figure it out for years, remember?" Kasen sighed. "Anyway, I don't know what you mean. It's true that she knows Yukari— she's a recent arrival from the outside world— but her kind aren't really known for attacking humans randomly. I just think you might be mistaken?"

"Yukari doesn't attack humans randomly, either!" Reimu folded her arms. "She's very deliberate about it. Remember that time that she started spiriting away villagers but because she put them back afterwards, she wasn't technically breaking any rules? She's like that."

Kasen's voice cracked slightly. "Yes, but—"

"And even when she's not doing that, she's causing problems, and being annoying, and generally being a pain!"

"I just don't see what reason you have to believe that this girl is like that, that's all?" Kasen folded her arms.

"My intuition is never wrong." Reimu waved a finger from side to side. "Yours, on the other hand, nearly got me killed more than once. I'm calling her 'ominous' until further notice."

Renko leaned against the wall and fiddled with her hair. Obviously she wasn't a relevant party in this discussion. She looked over at Touka, who was staring at Kasen, evidently trying to put the pieces together in her head, and pointed at her own antlers. A lightbulb seemed to go on in Touka's head, and she nodded, looking a little less shocked.

Kasen wheeled abruptly. "All right, since we're not going to agree on this tonight, how about we go our separate ways? Renko, you're coming with me, right?"

Renko, not knowing what else to do, acquiesced without comment.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Even though the heat of the day had long since dissipated, there was a strange mist blanketing the mountains. The shapes of trees danced in and out of view below, and the stream that had been visible a few minutes ago had disappeared entirely. Thankfully, the stars were still showing their tiny faces— 9:19:12— above.

A feather flew into Renko's mouth. She spat it out, and opened it again, intending to ask about their estimated time of arrival, when the eagle ahead of her dove, and she followed it into the fog. Moments later, the air cleared, and she pulled up short just a few meters from the ground.

"We're here." Kasen waved her over to where she was standing in front of a small but tidily-kept house. "This is my senkai."

"Senkai?" Something warm brushed against Renko's back, and she turned. What she saw made her jump. "Ah!"

Seemingly not noticing her surprise or just not caring, the tiger headbutted her gently.

"Houei, be polite." Kasen snapped her fingers, and it laid down immediately, wearing a mournful expression. "I am a hermit, whatever else I might be."

"Is he a pet of yours?" Renko knelt to pat the tiger on the head. "He's very well behaved."

Kasen smiled. "He is. I can speak with animals. It's one of my abilities as a hermit."

"You don't need to keep emphasizing that."

"Anyway, come in and sit." Kasen gestured indoors, and Renko followed her to sit at a plain, low table. The room was sparsely decorated, with a vase of early white cosmos atop the table, a scroll bearing the word for "temperance" on the wall, and what looked like a home shrine with a talisman-covered box in the place of worship. In the center of the room, there was a fireplace, cinders still glowing.

Kasen produced a teakettle, filled it, and set it on the hob. She grabbed a pair of logs from the corner of the room and placed them on the embers, then returned to the table.

"Do you have a favorite type of tea?" She fiddled with her bandaged arm.

"If you have any white tea, that would be great. I prefer coffee, though."

"White tea it is." Kasen nodded and quickly went to scoop some into a teapot.

"Did you just invite me over for some tea?" Renko folded her knees under herself. "I'm a little disappointed."

"And to talk." The hermit returned to the table. "You wanted to hear what I had to say about Yukari, didn't you?"

"A little bit. But you're honestly more interesting. How did an oni as famous as you end up as a hermit? And how do you know Yukari in the first place?"

"One thing at a time."

"The hermit question, then."

"The simpler one." Kasen nodded approvingly. "Even youkai change over time. As I'm sure you've heard if you know about my fame, I lost an arm in ages past. Lost with it, though, was all of my malice and ill will as a youkai. I was without purpose, so I became a hermit. I'm sure you can relate."

"How so?" Renko tapped her fingers on the table. "I'm not a hermit, if you took me for one."

Kasen shook her head. "You're not. But you similarly lost your purpose— as a youkai in the outside world, you were on the verge of death, to the extent that you took a name inspired by a human's. You've also gotten an opportunity to reinvent yourself."

If that was the idea that Kasen got from her lack of knowledge and ability, it suited Renko fine. She supposed that she didn't much resemble her great-aunt— there was some genetic distance between them, and Renko's myopia had been cured before she was born. It was kind of funny how there wasn't even a question about her origins— from the stories she'd read, Ibaraki-douji had been born as a human.

"I'm not sure what I even would be reinventing." Renko shrugged.

Kasen folded her arms. "Other people have ideas for that."

"Beg pardon?"

Instead of responding, Kasen pulled the kettle off the hob and poured it into the teapot after testing the water temperature. She set the teakettle back down on the stones by the fireplace, then sat back down, head in her hands.

"A youkai such as yourself has quite a lot of mythical clout. After being nearly wiped out by disbelief, you're capable of becoming practially anything— but come pre-packaged with your species' influence. Certain people in Gensoukyou would very much like to take advantage of that influence."

"People like?" Renko was beginning to wonder if what Kasen thought she was was really so important that it was worth beating around the bush this long for.

"Like Yukari. Among others, but especially her." Kasen frowned. "If she gets her way, you'll become the sort of youkai that she wants you to be, rather than yourself."

"And what sort of youkai is that?"

"A true enemy of humanity." Kasen poured Renko a cup of tea. "Drink this. It'll clear your head."

Renko took a sip. It was a wonderful, light flavor, with just a hint of nectar to it. It reminded her of the expensive teas that Merry would buy at the imported goods store, then pawn off to her because she didn't care for tea that wasn't black. "I see."

"I assume you've met her already, since you wanted to hear about her. I hope she hasn't put any ideas in your head."

"I have, yeah. She's the one who brought me to Gensoukyou."

"A noble being like you deserves better than to be a wicked youkai's pet lizard." Kasen sighed heavily. "Though you do seem to have an affinity for it. Koutei still spends too much time here, no matter how much I tell them to gain a little independence."

Renko frowned. "What?"

"Did I misspeak?"

"No, it's just... I'm not sure what kind of youkai I am. In that scenario, being called a noble being is kind of strange, don't you think?"

Kasen clapped a hand to her mouth. "Oh!"

"And what's this about pet lizards?" As far as she could tell, she had no reptilian features whatsoever. It would be odd to, as a former human... but then again the antlers were also pretty weird.

Kasen shook her head vigorously. She seemed to be close to tears. "I'm sorry. I really am. It's just that... I had no idea that you had been through that much! To forget your own identity entirely, you really were on the verge of death. And here I am telling you to be suspicious of the one who saved your life. I must seem like such an ass."

She did seem like an ass. "It's not your fault."

"How much do you remember? I don't want to be too blunt. But if you've forgotten that much, there are some things you need to know. About this place, and about yourself."

"About the past fifteen years, mostly."

"Not even sixty..." Kasen put her head in her hands. "I've been such an idiot."

"Can you stop keeping me in suspense and explain?"

Kasen sipped some tea. "Well, it would be easier if I had Koutei here to help me explain. But to be direct, you're a dragon. Harbingers of all sorts of inexplicable natural phenomena, but if entreated to, very good omens indeed. And because you're one that showed up without explanation from the Outside, everyone will be speculating about you."

"I'm a dragon?"

It wasn't like she had some kind of natural affinity for storms or reptiles. Or that she had some kind of special family history— as far as she knew, the Usamis were downright normal. Besides Sumireko, and she hadn't documented anything whatsoever. Maybe she'd gone and become a dragon? That wasn't something that would make any sense, though. Renko's species was probably due to Yukari's influence—was what she would have thought, were it not for the fact that she'd been growing horns before coming to Gensoukyou.

Yukari had probably realized already, but didn't want to alarm her. The hermit, on the other hand, seemed to have little awareness of the impact of her words.

"You are. Your kind haven't been seen since Gensoukyou was sealed away." Kasen nodded. "Well, fully grown, anyway. Koutei is still an adolescent. Most of us assumed that you would survive in the Outside World perfectly well without us, but since you're here, that's not so. I expect Yukari figured this out, and decided to go behind the rest of our backs to take advantage of that fact."

"You think so, huh?" Renko tapped on one of her antlers experimentally. "How do you know enough about Yukari to judge her like that?"

"I've known her for over a thousand years." Kasen steepled her fingers. "Working alongside her for as long as I did is my greatest regret since becoming a hermit."

"I see. I'm not sure whether the former gives you any authority, but what's that regret of yours for?" Renko leaned on the table. "It might help me to know if it contradicts anything I already know about her."

"Creating this place. Gensoukyou." Kasen gestured to the window. "Well. Creating it as it is today."

"I don't see why that would be something you'd regret. Without it, we would all be dead." Renko said bluntly.

"You don't know Yukari very well, so it's hard to explain. But— Gensoukyou could have been a paradise." Kasen gripped her teacup tightly. "It isn't."

"Are you that sure that I don't know Yukari well?" Renko's voice raised.

"I told you. I've known her for over a thousand years. You barely remember the past fifteen. How deep could your understanding of her be?"

"Oh, you've known her for a thousand years?" Renko tapped her index finger on the table impatiently.

"I have." Kasen's voice was condescending.

"That's too bad. Since I've known her since the very beginning." Renko set her teacup down roughly. "There's precious little that I remember outside of the past fifteen years, but I do remember that."

Kasen raised an eyebrow. "The very beginning? I doubt that."

"I know her personality. Her likes and dislikes. Her strengths, her hidden weaknesses, her fears. I would hazard a guess that I know more about Yakumo Yukari than any other living being on this planet."

"Then you know, of course, that she wasn't always a youkai." Kasen's tone was sharp.

"I do."

"You know what she was before becoming a youkai."

"Obviously."

"What was it, then?"

Renko blinked, slowly and calmly. "You know exactly how much you're trying to damage her reputation here. Do you really hate Yukari that much?"

"Answer the question. Do you know the kind of being that Yukari was before she was a youkai?"

"Of course." Renko nodded. "The same as yourself, obviously."

Kasen made a noise. Renko had been making a guess based on legends she'd read, but it sounded like she'd been correct.

"Though it's pretty pathetic you're pretending to be human after rejecting it once already."

"I'm a hermit." Said through gritted teeth. "Even if you have known her since the beginning, you don't know what she's been doing. You don't understand anything."

"Well, you told me that you partnered up with her to make Gensoukyou. Bitter parting?"

"After she told me about an idea for youkai and humans to live together in peace as belief in us decayed, then created a place like this, where youkai are artificially propped up as the enemies of humanity? A place whose boundaries are a glorified snare for those living in the Outside? And everyone had been keeping it from me, specifically? I can't imagine anyone with a care in their heart for human beings not being bitter." Kasen angrily poured herself another cup of tea. "But no, go on about how you know all the intricacies of what's going on in her heart."

"Would youkai that lived in peace with humans even be youkai?" Though, at the same time, there wasn't any predation going on at that festival. Even if Gensoukyou was a snare for outsiders— that had been impressed upon her upon her first visit— the humans who lived there seemed to take it well enough.

"They wouldn't be youkai as we knew them. But I've reinvented myself without ceasing to be. Others could too. But those two didn't want that, for their own selfish reasons."

"What reasons would those be?"

"In Yukari's case... pride and cowardice, partly, but also resentment. She can't stand that the humans of the outside world abandoned their myths, so she sees humans in general as 'beings that will always be opposed to her'. No matter how easy it would be for us all to get along here, or how little the humans of Gensoukyou had to do with it. Or, for that matter, how impersonal it all was."

A plant in a too-small pot, its roots reaching out for soil.

Long hair, visiting a temple. "They wouldn't even let me take visitors!" A vision of Hell, or what looked like it. The earthquake that twisted a pillar.

"Are we really going with that pen-name? It's embarrassing." Everyone seeing different worlds, but still being able to understand each other. The beautiful other world, hiding from everyone, too far to see, but too close to imagine.

"Dream and reality being the same thing is common knowledge. It's only old-fashioned people who think like you and differentiate them."

"Those are all just stories from Swallowstone Naturalis Historia, you know. You're supposed to be telling us about your own experiences here." A glance into Renko's eyes, with just the slightest hint of anger. Hiding behind a mirror to reveal the truth.

A freezing cold morning in late July. A golden world. A peaceful, joyous expression.

A rainy fall day. A meeting in the park.

An empty umbrella stand.

—"I can see why you would think that."

An irritated look from the hermit.

Renko leaned on the table. "But if she really feels the way that she does for the reasons that you think she does, why does she act in the way that she does? It doesn't make much sense."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, she's interacted with humans without grievously harming them a lot, hasn't she? Like Touka, for example."

"The Hakurei shrine maiden is—"

"An exception. That's what you were going to say, isn't it?" Renko tilted her half-empty teacup across the table. Kasen refilled it wordlessly. "But the fact that there are such exceptions in the first place makes it seem a lot less like an all-consuming resentment, doesn't it?"

"Hmm." Kasen took a sip of tea. "I mischaracterized it, probably. It's more of a faint undercurrent that informs the way she sees them, rather than some blind rage. But..."

"If you're willing to view it as an impersonal undercurrent of distaste, don't you think you'd be able to convince her to come around on it?" Renko probed.

"...No." Kasen shook her head. "Every conversation I have with her on the subject ends with her entreating me to join her worldview, rather than the opposite. She's uselessly inflexible, and now that you've shown up, I can't just sit idly by, either."

Evidently, Kasen hadn't even considered that she might be misjudging the impersonality, rather than the depth of the emotion. A ten-minute snippet of one of her conversations with Merry would have told you Merry's feelings about the world— if anything, gentle nudges towards misanthropy were uncharacteristic thanks to the former, not the latter.

—"There's something you want me to do, isn't there?" Renko chided.

"You caught me that easily." Kasen sighed, then smiled. "Of course there is."

"Even the queen piece isn't so happy to be part of a game of chess."

"I'm not going to treat you like a tool. I'll only ask you to help me if you really intend to join my side. But..."

"You really like letting your sentences trail off."

"But I'd like you to consider what kind of being— youkai, or whatever else— you really want to be. Don't let yourself get dragged along by the promise of power, or justice, or anything beyond that." Kasen put her bandaged hand on her chest. "Even as a being defined by human belief, you determine who you are."

"Thanks." Renko set down her teacup. "Well, I'd better go. I have a lot to think about."

"See you around, I hope."

"Yeah, see you around."

Renko walked out the door, past the rose bushes, and off into the early morning mist.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

The northeast of Gensoukyou was fairly empty. Apart from a sunflower garden that was blooming far too early, there weren't any especially notable landmarks, or even many houses speckling the woods. The sky also didn't seem to be forthcoming— the mist that had surrounded Kasen's home had seemingly spread out into the sky and become clouds. Though she still could see the stars' faint outlines, even so. It was just past midnight. 0:03:29. It wasn't nice to not be able to see them, though.

She wasn't sure why she was flying in this direction, to be truthful. Yukari had always picked her up to bring her home before tonight, but when she set out at the beginning of the night, it was almost always from a different location. It was supposedly seated within the barrier, but what did that mean, exactly? If the barrier was a membrane separating two different schema of human belief, would you pop up wherever people expected to see something like you? But then how would you get inside it, without being Yukari?

Just as she was beginning to mull over the idea, she saw a familiar garden below, and plunged. Gracelessly, she overshot her landing, tripped, fell forward, and rolled once or twice before coming to a stop next to the porch.

There was a sound of footsteps, then something grabbed her collar and lifted her into the air. A pair of narrowed violet eyes peered into hers. "Would you look at that."

"Good morning!"

Yukari abruptly dropped her back down. "Take off your shoes before you come inside."

Renko took off her shoes and brushed as much grass and dirt as she could off her clothes before walking indoors. Yukari was leaning up against the table, back to the door, and was reading a book. "The Romance of the—" something, but Yukari's hair was hiding the rest of the cover.

"You weren't there when I showed up at the festival." Yukari flipped a page.

"And you weren't there when I did." Renko sat down. "You also never told me when you'd appear, or if you would at all."

"I heard from Reimu that you left a while before it ended."

"I did."

"Congratulations on getting back here without me. With Kasen's help, of course, but still, it's a nice little achievement." Yukari placed a bookmark in the book and shut it before looking over her shoulder.

"I came here on my own." Renko unbuttoned her cape and tossed it on the floor. She looked up. Yukari was gone, and only the book— back cover up— remained there on the table.

As she stared at it in confusion, something momentarily blocked her vision in a blur. She blinked, and then felt a great weight land on top of her, pinning her to the ground.

A hand brushed Yukari's hair out of Renko's face. Renko tried to move her own, but couldn't— they were held still. She stared up into those unreadable, familiar eyes.

"I see."

"You know that I'm a terrible liar."

"I do." Yukari leaned on Renko's chest. "How did you get here, then?"

"The same way that I get anywhere. The moon and the stars." Renko shook her head.

Yukari's expression shifted. Was it surprise? Anger? Happiness? Renko couldn't tell.

"You're incorrigible." Her voice was softer. Not anger, then.

"I'm sorry."

Yukari leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. "I'll come around to forgiving you."

Renko returned it before Yukari managed to pull away again. "Would it come easier if I told you what we talked about?"

"Hmm." Yukari put a hand on her chin. "Perhaps. But not now."

Renko sighed with relief as Yukari leaned to kiss her again, this time on the collarbone. "I'm glad to be back."

There was no reply. Renko thought for a moment that she hadn't been heard, and opened her mouth to repeat it. Instead, though, she felt something sharp, and yelped.

The sensation strengthened, from a slight pinching to pain. Yukari's fangs were digging into her skin, pressing with an insistence that made any slight movement on either of their parts a sharp twinge. She gasped. "Yukari—"

The bite tightened a bit further. She winced. "Yukari."

No change.

"Merry. Stop it."

The pain disappeared, as did the weight on Renko's chest, as Yukari sat up. "You don't like it?"

Renko hauled herself up as well. Her face felt hot. "Well, it isn't exactly that I don't like it, but..."

"After we visited Zenkou-ji. You started to joke about my being a youkai, remember?" Yukari wrapped her arms around her knees. "I had had enough of it one night, and—"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember!" Renko cut her off. The red in her cheeks was definitely visible. "I don't need you to go into detail."

"Even though you made such adorable noises? Like—"

Renko tackled her. Yukari giggled.

"It's not that I don't like it. But you were going to draw blood."

Yukari raised her eyebrows. "You'll heal right away, you know."

"That's true." Renko fidgeted.

"But?"

"I don't know how to say it."

"I thought you knew how to say everything, Renko." Yukari grinned at her.

"Well, I..." Renko rocked from side to side. Oh, to hell with it.Yukari was always wearing off-the-shoulder dresses around Renko anyway. She'd probably predicted this.

Renko bit down, hard, between Yukari's shoulder and neck. Despite her soft skin, there was a surprising amount of tension there, and though she'd meant to, Renko was still surprised when she tasted iron.

"Ah..." Renko felt a hand on her back, pulling her closer. "You were jealous, I see."

She made a muffled noise, but didn't let go.

"You've been jealous of me for a long time, haven't you." There wasn't any resentment in Yukari's voice. Rather, it sounded pleased. "But you can stand at my side now, can't you?"

Renko wiped her mouth, then lunged again. She was blocked by Yukari's hand on her chest.

"Now, now. I can't let you have all the fun." Renko was shoved to the floor again, Yukari smirking from above. "You'll have to try a little if you truly want to quell that envy of yours."

This time, the pain was accompanied by a hot feeling, like the blush that had risen in Renko's face. She rolled, grabbing Yukari's shoulders as she did so, and looked down as her captive giggled. There was a thin trail of red from the edge of Yukari's mouth to her chin.

"What?"

"You're a complete mess!" Yukari laughed. "And most of it isn't even my fault."

"Why, you—" Renko lunged forward, giggling.

Some interminable minutes passed as they rolled around. The room quickly began to take on the appearance of one that had been struck by a minor typhoon. Renko started to tire, and was considering asking for a break when she heard the sound of a door sliding open.

"Well. It looks like you found her, Lady Yukari."

Renko turned. Standing in the doorway was the form of a nine-tailed fox.

"Good morning, Ran!" Yukari said cheerily.

"You could have told me." Ran folded her arms.

"I was busy." Yukari gestured towards Renko, who quickly began to button up her shirt.

"I can see that, yes. Would you two mind terribly going to bed so that I can at the very least get started on cleaning up all this blood?" She gestured to the room, which indeed now held a slight resemblance to one within a particularly cheap haunted house that Renko had once visited.

Yukari tossed Renko's cape at her. "Clean this, too. And it's not all blood."

"No matter how many eyes it stares at me with, unless it grows legs and walks back to you, I'm not calling that substance anything else."

"Really, do I have to do more bugfixes so soon?" Yukari sighed.

"The last time we had this discussion, you said that it was 'funny' that I refused to differentiate it."

"I'm in a different mood today." She shrugged. "Let's go, Renko."

—

Renko blinked the sleep out of her eyes. Her whole body ached, which puzzled her for a second before she saw Yukari seated at the window, brushing her hair, and remembered.

She rolled out of bed slowly and looked in the mirror. True to Yukari's word, the bite marks had entirely faded away. However, the soreness had not.Renko went looking for the loosest shirt she could find. The white tangzhuang-esque piece she sometimes wore for travel would do.She buttoned the hooks on her skirt, and stretched a bit for good measure. It felt like it had gotten a bit tighter, somehow.

Yukari, who still hadn't taken off her nightgown, looked over at Renko and yawned.

Renko, sighing, brought over her dress.

Once the two of them had dressed and eaten, they made their way to the garden. On her way towards the bridge that overhung the stream, Renko noticed something fascinating, and crouched down to point at it. It swam away just as quickly as she did, though.

"Did you see that?"

"The fish?"

"It was on the news a few years ago. The Tokyo bitterling is officially extinct in the wild. Or it would be, but I just saw one!"

"Since when were you an expert on fish identification?"

"Since a few years ago."

"Let me know when you get to that level of expertise in identifying plant species. I'll take you back to TORIFUNE."

"They're all mutant species up there, though." Renko leaned on the bridge railing.

"That means you get to name them, though. Gelsemium usamii..."

"Why an incurable poison?"

"It suits you." Yukari primly opened her parasol. "So, what did dear Kasen tell you?"

Renko stretched again. Her back felt strange. "Well, she said all kinds of nasty things about you."

"Of course."

"Like how you resent human beings and created Gensoukyou as a false paradise thanks to that."

"Thanks to that? It's in the very name. Besides, I can think of a number of decades— like the early 1900s, for example— where it might have been altogether nicer to be a villager here than outside. If there's anything a human can fault this place for, it's stagnation. Why, they should be thanking me."

"It's true that you can get real bamboo shoots here. She said that you lied to her about it being a place for humans and youkai to live in harmony, though."

Yukari audibly snorted. "I did call it that a few times— to the humans. You're telling me that she took it as the absolute truth?"

"Seems so. She did say one thing that actually concerned me."

"And what would that be?"

"That you only rescued me from the outside world because you had some use for me in some kind of plan." Renko hopped up on the bridge rail to reach Yukari's height.

"Rescued you?" Yukari raised an eyebrow. "In the broadest sense, perhaps..."

"She was convinced that I was a youkai who had been around for a while, and that you'd saved my life when I was on the verge of disappearing due to disbelief." Renko shrugged.

"Even though you're going by that name of all things? Why would she believe that, I wonder..." Yukari tilted her head to the side. "Well, it's all the better for you if no one realizes your age or origin."

"Probably because I'm a dragon." Renko said flatly. "Which is why what she said concerned me— you didn't tell me, even though half of the attendees of that festival probably figured it out on their own. I don't know why you wouldn't want to tell me."

Yukari sighed. "I should have guessed."

"Am I going to get an explanation?"

"Of course." Yukari leaned over the railing. "I'm still not entirely sure why she didn't recognize you as a former human."

"I don't really look like one, do I? And dragons aren't really known to have once been people."

"Not usually." Yukari had pulled out a fan from somewhere. "Oh, before I forget, I did collect your hat from Kourindou."

She handed the replica hat to Renko, who carefully donned it, pushing her antlers through the holes that had been made for them. A little bit of the dye, still fresh, came off on her hands.

"To continue. No, there's not a usual precedent for it. However, your circ*mstances are unusual."

"How so?"

"Remind me of why you decided to follow me down this path in the first place?"

Renko deliberated for a fraction of a second. "The world rejected you, and this world would reject me if I didn't become part of it. I wanted to stay beside you. I still do. I don't want to live in a world that doesn't want you to be part of it."

"Right answer!" Yukari smiled. "You became a youkai while awash in two very particular emotions. Can you identify them for me?"

"Love, obviously, and..." Renko scratched her head. She got more dye on her hands. "You could have waited for it to dry before handing it to me."

"Too bad, only half credit. The other is anger."

Anger at the irrationality of a world that would only accept the rational? At a world that was willing to deny the evidence of its own eyes in favor of what it believed would happen? At a world which threw her Merry away like she was nothing but an old, useless cautionary tale? Renko could see that.

"The latter is characteristic of dragons, as I'm sure you know. But it alone is not sufficient. After all, as Kasen told you, I've quite the resentment for those adorable humans, myself."

"Right."

"But youkai are, after all, stories. If there's a story that resembles your own, you're not unlikely to end up as that sort of youkai. In that sense, adding in love makes it only natural that you've ended up like this."

Recognition flashed into Renko's mind. An unusual story from a long time ago. "Oh, you mean the story of Anchin and—"

"Got it in one! As expected from Renko. Somehow, your story was similar enough, in the collective human consciousness, to be seen as 'the story of Kiyohime'. Though I'm not going to go hiding in the Myouren Temple's bell any time soon."

"You did run away from me, though." Renko pinched Yukari's cheek. "You're lucky I'm not that vengeful of a dragon." She kicked the bridge. "Although I don't really resemble one much."

Yukari batted at her hand halfheartedly. "You see now, I hope, why I might be loath to tell you exactly what you are. 'Oh, by the way, your very existence as a being is defined by how in love with me you are'. You'd bite my head off."

"I might have."

"It wasn't for any ulterior motive. Though I'd be happy if you helped me with my future plans."

"As long as you tell me what they are first."

"Though..." Yukari frowned. "I'm not sure exactly why you don't believe you look like a dragon. I mean, you have the horns, the tail... Don't tell me you want whiskers?"

"The tail?" Renko looked over her shoulder.

Sure enough, sticking out of the bottom of her skirt was a thin, white, scaly lizard tail, with its tip curled into the shape of a question mark. It straightened in shock as Renko looked at it. She lost her balance, and went tumbling backwards.

She landed in Yukari's arms, and was unceremoniously set back down.

"Really, Renko, you could do with a little bit of self-awareness."

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

When describing something— whether it be object or concept— problems often crop up in communicating the most salient traits of that thing to others. Sometimes it is because these traits are obvious; for example, describing a mammal as furred is likely to be extraneous information, unless one is speaking to a person who has never seen a mammal before. Sometimes it is because the key traits of the concept encapsulated in the word are invisible to the speaker, as they occur on a level beyond that of the objective. For example, in the case of the library. A library is, on the most basic level, simply a room for storing books. Many different kinds exist; from small home libraries made of just a few shelves, to storied libraries filled with leather-bound books and covered in mahogany paneling, to modern public libraries with glaring lights, carpeted floors, and prominent displays of recommended books, like those ancient fossils, chain bookstores.

But what is invisible to the human eye is the invitation. Certainly, a pile of books on the floor is not a library; nor is a perfectly organized set of stacks that no one ever accesses. Someone has to read the books— whether that's from searching the stacks themselves or from requesting certain works from a librarian. Due to this, many libraries have reading areas, hinting at their true function. What a library fears the most is becoming nothing but a decorative collection of glue and paper.

In that sense, to human beings, a library in a youkai mansion, where the majority of the works are not accessed for years or tens of years on end, might not be a library at all. To them, it might be something that mimics the appearance of a library, without its function; just as a youkai is a being mimicking the appearance of a human, yet not its behavior.

Of course, this is not really the case. A library is not a single sentient being; if it were, even a youkai mansion's library would be a god, or a collection of gods, rather than a youkai. To compare it to something emulating a truer being would be like saying that the Sun is mimicking Sirius. The Sun is simply the Sun. It has its own meaning to live for, rather than that of the brightest star in the night sky.

Even so, at times, even such a library could bear a remarkable resemblance to the functions of those used by humans. At the current moment, this was the case for the library within a mansion at the border of Gensoukyou, inhabited by a being that, despite her outward appearance, still behaviorally bore a remarkable resemblance to humans, in both industry and laziness.

Usami Renko's eyes glazed over as she flipped the twenty-sixth page in her fourteenth metaphysical treatise of the week. The content was interesting enough, but a sufficient quantity of academic text in a week would drive anyone mad. She slammed the book shut.

"I'm tired of studying. I'd like to understand now, please." She demanded of no one in particular.

The shuffling behind her betrayed another presence in the room. She turned to see Ran methodically dusting the bookshelves. Their eyes met, and the fox sighed.

"If you could see the boundaries of this world like Lady Yukari, you wouldn't need to. But for those of us who aren't the most powerful youkai in existence, rote study is a necessity for understanding."

"Does she ask you to call her that?" Renko crossed her legs. "I bet she does."

"Lady Yukari doesn't need to order me to do such things explicitly. I simply know."

"You're dodging the question." She grinned.

"That is within my normal limits of operation to do." Ran turned to walk further down the aisle.

"Hmm..." Renko thought for a moment. Merry had never been particularly familiar with modern programming languages, outside of the formal logic that governed them. And the operating system requirements for many university programs had been proprietary. But, and this was the key, Merry would have never passed up the opportunity for a joke. "Hey, Ran... sudo tell me if Yukari asked you to call her that."

"Of course she did." Ran answered without pause. "Hey!"

"I don't even need to enter a password? That's pretty convenient." Yukari delighting in her own ability was completely unsurprising, but to program an AI to do so for her was a bit silly. Renko certainly believed it enough without the fox's help.

"Identifying you based on your youkai aura is trivial." Ran frowned. "Though it's less convenient than Yuyuko's. The scent of death she gives off is unmistakable."

"She has usage rights too, doesn't she?" Renko stood up to follow her as she proceeded further down the stacks. "Considering how rarely you visit the Netherworld, you're pretty possessive to need that."

"Please don't refer to the permission to issue me commands in such a vulgar manner, Lady Renko." Ran huffed. "And I'm a shikigami. It's in my nature to follow those who give me orders. Don't the shikigami of the outside world try to get you to pay attention to them?"

"You sound like a live-service mobile game."

"While I'm not sure what you mean, please don't insult me."

"You're an AI. Even if you can convincingly emulate emotional expressions, it's all just a slightly higher-weighted point in a collection of tensor matrices. It's a miracle that you can provide a factual answer to anything at all." Renko grabbed one of her tails. "Maybe it's because of your fuzzy logic?"

Ran glared over her shoulder. "I don't run off of tensor matrices. I run off of a much simpler set of well-defined fuzzy logic rules, rather than neuro-fuzzy, with the autonomy to do as I wish when an undefined truth value is returned. The latter part is based on the general basis for operation that my body already held when I was programmed. A shikigami whose entire functionality was based on pure math would be ridiculously inefficient."

"Oh?" Renko let go of the tail. "You've got some kind of biological basis?"

"If we were existences based only on mathematics, we would simply be shiki, not shikigami." Ran's fur bristled. "While I wouldn't call my bauplan precisely biological, I am ultimately an artificial intelligence overlaid atop and amplifying a natural intelligence. That is for example why I enjoy fried tofu." Her ear flicked. "Chen is similar, but her programming is fairly minimal, as my own experience with programming shikigami is low. She has been updated over the years, but my expertise cannot possibly compare to Lady Yukari's."

"Well, obviously. Even if AI can do math, they can't apply it to the real world. That's why physicists still have jobs." Renko threw an arm over Ran's shoulder with some difficulty, as the fox was a little taller than she was. "So you're a fox?"

"I will take advice on formal logic from you when you cease to identify as a member of a field that claims that I do not exist and that defining an output as being in the set of real numbers is inconsequential, Lady Renko." Ran leaned down to dust a lower shelf. "And I'm either a fox or not a fox, dependent on definitions."

Renko leaned her elbows on her back. "I'm a defective physicist, but at least I know that to determine when an apple hits the ground after it's been dropped, you need its initial velocity."

"I know that too. Do you know how to calculate the width of the Sanzu River, Lady Renko? Or the distance to the North Star, at any given time?"

"If I can see the other bank, yeah." Renko raised an eyebrow. "And why ask me about the North Star? You already know I can tell my location by looking up at the moon. It's simple enough to figure out the location of anything else."

"What's the cube root of 2576?" Ran swapped the positions of two very similar-looking books.

"I can't do that in my head."

"As expected." Ran sounded smug. "It's about 13.708248."

"That's the sort of thing that only a computer would care about." Renko flicked Ran's ear with her thumb and forefinger. "If I know the answer and it's correct, it doesn't matter how I got there."

"How would you know that it's correct if you don't know how you got to the answer?"

"That's what empirical observation is for, you walking database. Nobody knows exactly what causes the noise observed with a radio-frequency telescope. Even though we understand the physical principles behind the noise, unless you're Laplace's demon, you can't differentiate where each piece comes from. The only thing that matters is what causes the signal, and what the signal means."

"I wonder about that."

"How so?"

"It's strange that the only human that Lady Yukari cared about bringing with her into her current life is one that just so happens to be one that knows things, without having to figure them out."

"Well, I do figure them out." Renko laughed. "My brain just works faster than any computer ever could, and it works off of physical intuitions, not formal logic. Semi-empiricism is how all simulations are done nowadays."

"Regardless, you know them. Whereas Lady Yukari, as the most youkai-like of youkai, embodies that which cannot be known."

"Sudo tell me if she told you to say that."

"She didn't. Stop doing that. I have to listen to what you say even if you don't run formal commands." Ran shuffled down the aisle with her feather duster, Renko leaning on her all the while.

"This way you can't interpret them as not being commands."

"As you like. Regardless, you're very convenient for Lady Yukari. You listen to whatever she has to say, without her having to order you to do so, and you can observe the world, but can't offer any explanations. You're a perfect companion for her."

"She definitely didn't tell you to say that." Renko dug her elbow into Ran's back. "I should tattle on you to her."

"Would you like to listen to me, Lady Renko, or would you prefer to threaten me instead? I have known her for far longer than you have, so while I'm not privy to the inner workings of her mind, I'm fairly good at predicting her behavior. If you're not interested in that, though, I can discuss something else."

"No, go on. Dig that hole deeper."

"Very well. Have you met Lady Yuyuko, by any chance?" Ran tilted her head to the side.

"Once."

A sigh. "That's a shame. You probably don't know much about her, then."

"Well, I know that Yukari is somehow responsible for the fact that she's still around. And that since she has the ability to bring death to living beings with a thought, she's accidentally killed some people. But she likes to talk about others instead of herself."

"Accidentally...?" Ran raised herself to her full height and turned. "Did you meet her when you were still human, perhaps? As long as she has lived in this way, she's never done that without thinking. If she did such a thing, that gardener of hers would have been dead a hundred years ago."

"So she's that kind of ghost story, then." It was probable that the type of ghost that was compelled to invite others to death with them was the most common of any that appeared in stories.

"Yes. She's all alone. Trapped between this world and the next, forever unable to reincarnate. She will never again feel the sadness or pain of life, but she is an existence apart from either world. So, she takes her companions from the land of the living. Due to the gift that Lady Yukari bestowed upon her."

"What exactly happened?"

"I wasn't yet Lady Yukari's shikigami at the time, so I only know what she has told me. I've been ordered not to share it with Lady Yuyuko, however, so I'm of the opinion that the information's reliable." Ran pulled a book out of the shelf, dusted it off, and replaced it, but not before grabbing a rather scruffy-looking ragdoll that had been stuck behind it. "When Lady Yuyuko was a living human, she still had the ability that she has today, but she despised it. At some point, she met and befriended Lady Yukari, who attempted to convince her of the ephemerality of human life, but did not succeed. Various things happened, and Lady Yuyuko lost many of those who were close to her from a combination of her own ability and that of a cursed cherry tree nearby where she lived. So that at least she would never harm anyone again, she ended her own life, hoping that in the next, she would no longer be bound to bring pain to others. But Lady Yukari would not settle for that. She used Lady Yuyuko's corpse to seal away that youkai cherry tree— the Saigyou Ayakashi— and bind Lady Yuyuko to this world for all eternity." Ran smiled grimly. "No doubt the living Lady Yuyuko would be horrified by the present one's actions. But she no longer exists."

"You're a youkai, aren't you? Or something approximating one. I'm not sure why it would matter to you how a human might have felt." Renko leaned on the opposite shelf. "I know you're going to say that it would have been better to do what Yuyuko wanted, but the consequence here is the important part, not the reasoning."

"You frustrate me, Lady Renko."

"I'm aware."

"It's not that it wasn't what Lady Yuyuko wanted. It's that Lady Yukari is perfectly willing to do as she pleases to others, even those she seemingly cares for, as long as she gets something out of it. And it seems to me, if this isn't too rude, that you're running into it with open arms."

"That's because I trust her. It's not like I'm acting any differently from the way that I always have. I implore Merry to show me the wonderful things that she sees, and she does."

"Even if her vision has changed over the millennia? Not even Lady Yuyuko trusts her as you do. And for that matter, you have no reason to believe that the result for you will be as happy as it was for her. Lady Yukari has taken an interest in many humans over the years that I have been her shikigami. Of those accords, only one has had what I would refer to as a 'happy ending'."

"You seem to underestimate how much I mean to her by a lot."

"I'm not sure that I do, Lady Renko." Ran crossed her arms. "Certainly, you are abstractly meaningful to her. You're the foundation of her existence as a youkai, apparently, though she hasn't explained that to me in any detail. But you as you are?"

"Didn't you refer to me as the perfect companion for her earlier?" Regardless of how insulting it had been, it was at odds with the latter statement.

"Precisely because you're so easy to manipulate. You don't have anything driving you, so she can mold you into whatever she wants you to be." Ran sighed. "I suppose that you'll tell me this is just my jealousy again, though."

"You won't listen, so unless I find a way to force you to, there's no point in saying it. But I do have one question."

"Please."

"...If Yukari actually was using me like you say, don't you think that she would order you not to tell me about it?"

Ran thought for a moment.

"Hmm."

"You didn't have a rejoinder for that one?" Renko grinned.

Ran shook her head emphatically, uncrossed her arms, and set the feather duster down on the shelf. She clasped her hands politely in front of her and bowed.

"Thank you for allowing me to see it, my dear Lady Renko."

"You're most welcome?" The increased formality rattled Renko's nerves.

"Of course. I was too shortsighted. I'm sure of it now; she has some role planned for you. But I'll never be able to warn you about it, or even realize it before it unfolds. If you really are the foundation of her existence as a youkai, the reason that an easily-comprehensible human existence was twisted and woven into one that even the most abstract of us cannot understand, she must also be yours. In a far more fundamental way than just dragging you across that boundary, at that. There is an understanding that you two share that no one else can possibly comprehend. And to be able to tell what she wants, I would need to have that understanding. The idea that unfolded from the very beginning of her existence..."

"You sound like a boss in a JRPG having her evil plans foiled." Renko sat down. "You've not been Yukari's shikigami as long as she's been alive, so of course if she came up with something before meeting you, you wouldn't get it. In that sense, I have an advantage over you. Even though you've definitely known her for longer."

"So you'd already accepted that she has something planned for you, Lady Renko?" Ran looked puzzled.

"I'm not an idiot just because I was human, Ran." Renko laughed. "She was the kind of person to hide her thoughts all the time even when she was human. I only really started to get to hear them when we started publishing those zines together..."

"What is a 'zine', Lady Renko?"

"Well, it's a long story. You know what scientific journals are, right?"

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

—Late afternoon, at Bo-Tokyo station.

As always, there was no line at the turnstiles. When the capital had been relocated, the station was almost always packed to street level; partially out of excitement, to be sure, but partially owing to the poor architectural design of the place. Nowadays, though, few had reason to traverse between the two capitals. The rowdy flowers of Edo were content to constrain themselves to its empty streets.

The clamor they made was not, but past the turnstiles and down a second escalator, the station was quiet. The projects of this era's government prized silence; even the hum of the escalator was muffled by noise-dampening insulation. Even the trains themselves, unlike that ill-fated construction to Osaka, hissed quietly into the station. The only noise allowed to break the silence was the announcer's voice, pointlessly informing passengers that they had arrived at Bo-Tokyo, and that the train to Yu-Kyoto would depart soon.

The fruits of an incomparably advanced scientific civilization. There was no need to chatter, walk around, or watch the world go by here. The world in one's mind's eye held all the reality one needed.

An echoing hiss from the tunnel to the west let me know that the train had arrived. As the announcer uselessly told me my destination, I boarded and found an isolated seat. The credits were still playing on the Kaleido-screen, the quantum dots dutifully performing their parts the same as ever to display that falsehood that couldn't even be called an illusion.

A kaleidoscope's image is always different. A set of mirrors with ten thousand beautiful shapes blooming within. In that sense, the unchanging movie that played on the Bo-yu Tokaido as soon as it began to move bore a name of bitter irony.

But that's not what the name truly means. "A beautiful shape to be looked upon." Nothing more, nothing less. A stagnant, frozen river could take a form so lovely it might be preserved forever in a painting. This eternally unchanging scenery, hundreds of years old, was just as much of a kaleidoscope as anything could be.

Utagawa Hiroshige had captured the scenery of the time in his mind's eye, and replicated it as the virtual, etched it into wood. The impossible beauty on display between Edo and Kyoto had long since been marred by factories, ports, cold towers of steel. By the time anyone had thought to record it, it had disappeared. In reality, the fifty-three station of the Tokaido remained only in ink, in representations from a scarce few perspectives.

Of course, I remembered them.

A long, isolated, and treacherous footpath. Even if it was well-traveled, who among us wouldn't spend a little time there? The scenery didn't hurt, either. Though my home of the time was beautiful, it was far from the sea. I often missed the cool breezes and the smell of salt. And you know— the ocean changes every day. Sunlight, rain, wind... living creatures, and ships. Nothing touches it in the same way twice.

For a long time, humans accepted that no one could truly capture the idea of an object or location. Oh, of course they wrote poetry about it, with the ardent wish that they could hold the concept of "summer" or "their childhood home" or "a person beloved to them." But no one can return to the past. There's no way to keep an idea alive forever.

Regardless, nowadays, the scenery on the Tokaido is seen to be "just as real" as it was when one walked it hundreds of years ago. Humans have captured perfection and imprisoned it in a dazzling array of nanoparticles. Just as they've done to all the perfections of the world that surrounds them now.

—Have you ever thought about a run in a stocking?

It starts with a single imperfection. A broken thread. Caught on something that should not have been there. But as it's strained, the two ends of the thread gradually grow apart. A weakness in the knit is introduced, and nearby threads snap from the stress. They unwind from each other, the hole widens until it can no longer be ignored. Eventually, the garment is destroyed entirely. Nothing can be done to repair it.

This can be prevented, of course. If an imperfection is noticed in time, one might make the realization that straining the garment further would be imprudent, and leave it to rest. In this way, by accepting the existence of the imperfection but distancing oneself from it, disaster won't strike.

However... that's not the natural urge of humankind. When they've invested so much into something, they don't want to toss their hands up and admit defeat. Rather, instead, they'll try to mend it. Stitch after stitch, desperately darning the hole. Tearing more of those delicate threads as they go, widening it and worsening the damage in the process. In the end, all that remains is tatters and a group of determined humans, insistent that they have a pair of wearable stockings.

I felt a jolt, and the train began to slow. The scenery reminiscent of the fifty-fifth print glowed on the screen, with its wide red bridge and the myriad houses of Kyoto in the distance. The Sanjou Ohashi of the modern day is just as lovely in the eyes of many, with its delicately sculpted vines and the undying trees flanking each end. But that bright red color, completely lacking in subtlety, could never be replicated in the Kyoto of today. No, even if it was replicated exactly, it would never be that color.

Even the red displayed there was paler than that of my memories.

I disembarked at the only station there was, Yu-Kyoto.

Above ground, Kyoto is a quiet city. For its size, it always has been. The main streets, though bustling, are wide, so there's no chance for one to bump into another pedestrian on one's way, even if they've stopped to admire the scenery. And it is lovely— the streets from Yu-Kyoto station to my destination are lined with artfully manicured trees, in shapes that one would never see in the wild. All twisted, of course, to give the appearance of biodiversity without the need to care for more than a single species of hardy pine.

Late spring, though it felt like summer, lacked a few characteristics of the latter. Namely, the sun sets a little bit earlier. So, as I arrived at that familiar clock tower, night had begun to fall.

I walked aimlessly past it, towards an altogether ugly and old-fashioned brick building. I'd waited under the trees outside it countless times, though no one here was likely to recognize me, dressed as unassumingly as I was. If I hadn't raised any eyebrows at the main building, I certainly wouldn't here. Though, eyebrow raising was the intention, to an extent.

Quite deliberately, I wandered around with a troubled expression on my face. It took a few moments, but eventually, I got what I was looking for. A gaggle of five female students beelined in my direction.

One of them— not the closest to me, but the second— spoke up. "Are you all right?"

The truth was that I wasn't. Being in this world, even for someone like me who wouldn't be forced to disappear again any time soon, always put a slight weight of unease on my mind. It was very convenient for emulating more human worries, if a bit tiresome.

"I'm afraid not. You see, I'm trying to get back to my apartment. ButI'm not from this country, and the street signs here are always so difficult to read... I know I should have set it as Home in my maps app, or at least memorized the address, but I only got here about a month ago, and I've been adjusting...There's another student here that I usually walk home with— Miss Sakurai—but she's not here today and hasn't been responding to her texts, so I'm in a bit of trouble." I heaved an exaggerated sigh.

Another one of the girls put on an obviously-fake expression of surprise. "Your Japanese is really good!"

It is.

I thanked her as if the exclamation was genuine.

The other girl shushed her. "Sakurai? I think she lives up by Kitayama station, doesn't she? Astrophysics focus, right?"

I smiled and nodded. "You're familiar?"

"I'm Astro too. And Rika and I—" She gestured at one of the girls who hadn't spoken yet, a taller one with lighter brown hair— "Take the Karasuma line too. I'm at Matsugasaki, she's at Kitaoji. Do you want to head home with us? You might remember once you're in the right neighborhood, and if not, I can always help you look."

"Oh, that would be wonderful."

And so it was that I found myself eavesdropping on the animated conversation of two dreadfully misinformed physics students as night fell on the Kamo Ohashi bridge. The river was lovely at this time of day— from the strange shadows the light cast, one could almost be convinced that the vegetation covering the Kamogawa delta hadn't been carefully manicured into the most aesthetically pleasing shapes, and was instead overrunning its bounds, spreading out into the river. There were no children playing on the great stepping stones, though. If someone slipped and fell at such a lovely landmark, it would hurt its reputation, and that would be terrible for the parks. So, there was a prohibition on crossing the river through non-standard means after dark.

From what I could glean from the girls' sporadic argument, they were brand-new second years. The shorter one, who'd approached me and whose name seemed to be Masaki, was of course an astrophysicist, whereas the taller one, Rika, seemed to have a focus in nuclear physics. They were discussing with some vigor the failings of different types of modern spectroscopy. Both of their chosen varieties seemed to be far too expensive, whether from isotropic purification of helium from fusion or from high-precision instrumentation that could withstand the harsh conditions of space. They didn't seem to care about that, though, and were instead arguing about quantitation.

As we passed what had at one time been the publicly-open Kyoto National Garden and was now once more the tightly monitored grounds of the Imperial Palace, Rika turned towards me. "What do you think? If we can't agree, you can be the tiebreaker."

I laughed nervously. "Well, that is to say, er... I'm not actually a physics major. I'm in molecular biology."

Besides philosophy, which these girls would hate, it was the subject I had the most experience in, from monitoring Gensoukyou's barrier for outside threats.

She nodded approvingly. "So you obviously agree with me, then."

"I'm a first-year. We haven't even gotten through basic cellular structure yet."

"Oh, right." She put a hand to her forehead. "I should have realized. What's your name again? I don't think I know many biology majors."

"It's Mary." I emphasized the "a", but I expected her not to startle at the name regardless. When at university, I had always been "Hearn", from the very beginning. No one had ever been able to pronounce the rest, and no one had bothered to try besides the little Renko did; nor had I been naïve enough to introduce myself with my given name. But any indication of cultural knowledge at this point would be showing my hand a bit too much.

Indeed, she didn't startle. However, Masaki frowned.

"Mary, huh? I feel like I've heard that name before...?" She scratched her head.

"It's fairly common." Somewhere in the top hundred girls' names.

"It was in a story or something."

Rika smirked. "You mean the Bible?"

"I don't think so..."

We arrived at Imadegawa station. It was as unassuming as always, though since last year, it seemed that there had been a few more scrawny juniper trees planted in the flowerbed on the street corner. Flowerbed, of course, was a bit of a misnomer; the only flowering plant there was a half-dead Japanese dogwood. The dying branches had been pruned, of course, but it was nonetheless a little too warm for it here. Its broad leaves did give a jungle-like impression, which was likely why the humans here were trying so hard to save it.

The blank white tile of the station's interior bore the scars of a battle that had been fought and won. Specifically, with oxidizers; though the style of the modern era was that of wabi without sabi, the tiles still held that charming yellow color that belied their century of age. Quite a contrast to the trains themselves, less than a decade old and nearly soundless despite their mechanical wheels.

Once we boarded the sparsely-populated train, the duo resumed their conversation. Though a simple intra-city commuter train lacks the amenities of the Hiroshige, there were still no windows. Even with all the skill and technology of the modern day, no one can make a subway tunnel that stays beautiful for long, and there's no human who exists who would be willing to clean it.

Perhaps the tsuchigumo would enjoy the task. I amused myself by imagining them crawling around on the tunnel walls, carrying cleaning buckets and wearing hard hats to comply with useless safety standards. And all without a single passenger suspecting that the beloathed bringers of disease were inches from that metal shell they relied on so.

The train stopped, and Rika departed, alongside many of the remaining passengers. We were, after all, only three stops from the end of the line, and it was night; much of the northern half of the city was quiet, filled with humans who were already home eating dinner or enjoying some light entertainment. In practice, though cities never sleep, they only keep one eye open once the sun crosses the horizon. Even skies nearly as bright as the last century's can't secure the nighttime for them alone.

Masaki coughed to catch my attention. "So, by the way..."

"Hm?"

"If you're a first-year biology major from overseas, how did you meet Sakurai? She's a third-year."

Ah, that would be where she'd heard a name like Mary, then. "Ah, we met online. Shared interests, you see."

"Such as?"

"Philosophy, mostly."

"Huh. I didn't take her for the type." Masaki frowned.

We continued on in near-silence, only interrupted by the hissing of the train's hydraulic suspension. She couldn't ask the question she wanted to outright, because she couldn't remember what it was. As the brakes began to squeal for Kitayama station, she opened her mouth for a moment, then closed it.

The doors opened, and I stood up to walk out. Just after stepping onto the platform, I looked expectantly over my shoulder. She was following me.

I exited the station by the botanical gardens, and began walking towards them at a steady clip. I stopped upon reaching the gate, which must have surprised Masaki, as she collided with me and profusely apologized.

"I was just concerned that you were going in the wrong direction. The residential area is that way." She pointed across the street.

"There used to be a bamboo garden here." I said.

"Not for thirty years or so. It's all stuck indoors." She leaned against the gate, with a posture that I found familiar. "Have you seen pictures? The maple trees are still there, mostly."

"Yes." They're not the same maple trees that once grew in the gardens, but they, unlike the rest of this city, have changed to fit the times, instead of fighting them. The humans haven't noticed yet, though.

"Nostalgia for something you've never seen is more painful than anything. That's why I can't ride the Tokaido without crying." She frowned, then jumped over the gate. The street wasn't entirely empty, but no one seemed to notice. "Hey, want to build some nostalgia for something that actually exists?"

I demurred. "The garden's closed."

"The whole of Kyoto is a garden. No one cares that much about visiting this one after five in the evening."

She beckoned me, and I nimbly leapt over the gate.

The trail led us to the so-called wild garden, out of the view of prying eyes. Though it was called that for its plant species, not for its organization, neither was true. The cultivars here had been modified by human hands for more than a century, and were neatly laid out in beds, their metal edges hidden by skillfully placed stones, mimicking the scattering one would find at the bottom of a river.

"What kind of philosophy, by the way?"

The human was looking at a passionflower.

"Oh, are you a philosopher yourself?"

"Not hardly. You remind me of someone I met a while back."

"It's interesting how this one's petals are white, but its corona's violet, isn't it?" I plucked one of the flowers off the vine, and she jumped. "When it hasn't yet bloomed, it looks perfectly innocent, but once it opens, those filaments are quite sinister. I wonder if that's why it's such a hardy plant?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"If you were a philosopher, you would understand." I smiled.

"I'm not sure I would. I don't think that person understood anything, either."

"Why not?"

"She didn't want to acknowledge that we have the ability to understand everything in this world. I think that that's why she was alone all the time." She shrugged. "And angry."

"Isn't the cost of observation too high? What about the singularity at the center of black holes?"

"Observation is just confirming what we know as mathematical fact. And for the rest, we have semi-empiricism. Physicists are like chemists nowadays, just applying known truths to different, messy situations. We've fallen pretty far from the glories of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries."

"And yet you're still studying it."

"Of course I'm still studying it. The truth is the truth, no matter how many people know it. I'd rather learn the truth than some fluff that people stuff their heads with to make themselves feel better."

Any truly skilled scholar of empty platitudes will convince themselves that what they repeat ad nauseam is the truth and nothing but the truth. They'll doubt the evidence of their eyes and mind in favor of data that tells them... well, I suppose the eulalia is extinct now. The humans of this world will have to come up with another proverb.

"What if there's a breakthrough someday that tells you you've been stuffing your head with fluff this whole time?"

"That depends on what it is. If someone proves, for example, that gravitons have double their current mass, I'd have to reassess some things, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. If someone claims to prove, for example, that the speed of light in vacuum isn't what it is, or that the first law of thermodynamics is false, I'd just believe that to be an illusion, no matter how much proof there is. The world we live in wouldn't be able to function if such fundamental assumptions were false. All we're doing is quibbling about decimal places now."

"Things like illusions are also manifestations of the physical characteristics of this world, no?"

Night has fallen. The garden is dark, dark enough that the street cannot be seen from where we stand. The human, her silhouette still crouched over the passionflower, considers my question. On a clear night like tonight, the false dawn can't reach the ground, and expressions can't be seen.

"I guess. But that's meaningless. Every image on a screen is a manifestation of the physical laws of this world, from the thermodynamics that govern quantum dot formation to their optical properties. It doesn't have any actual effect on reality, besides some light scattering."

"Would you ever want to see an illusion that seemed like it affected your reality?"

"You mean like VR? I'm not that into it. The headsets are still pretty heavy, and you have to recharge them all the time." She shook her head.

"I don't."

Suddenly, she stood, and looked me in the eyes.

There was absolutely nothing strange about her own. Nor did she seem shocked. The night was dark enough that no one would be able to tell, after all. But there was something there. A manifestation of that nameless, formless fear that hid beneath every beautiful, manicured tree, every towering, cold skyscraper, and in all the beautiful but stagnant rivers.

"I don't think something like that exists." She said harshly.

The words scraped against my mind like a dull knife.

"I see. But if it did?"

"Then yeah, I guess I'd like to see it."

"Let me try and show it to you. Such an illusion."

I extended my open hand. She took it.

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

"So, where's she gone today?"

"I'm actually not sure where she's gone today, Lady Renko."

"Really?" Renko set her elbows on the table. "Whitefish again? Do you have a default setting for cooking, or..."

"She almost never tells me her destination, and she's almost never at home when she's not asleep. That she tells you where she goes is an anomaly." Ran set a bowl of pickled vegetables beside Renko's plate. "I apologize for not making something more interesting, but I've been busy with barrier maintenance and haven't been able to go shopping much. Lady Yukari has been out as well, training the shrine maiden, as you know."

"If her training is anything like mine, I'm sure she'll end up with an intimate knowledge of the ground in no time." It had been somewhat surprising to learn that Yukari, of all people, trained the youkai-exterminating shrine maiden, but Kasen did so as well. Since the shrine was on the barrier, all sorts of youkai, gods, and other beings wanted influence over it... or so Yukari said.

"That's so. Sometimes flotsam drifts ashore here, too, but it's so hot in the outside world at this time of year nowadays that few take trips out into the mountains. It's not as if none of them do, but there's more competition, and I don't really have the time..." Ran smiled slightly. "So, well, whitefish it is for the next few weeks. Unless you want to hunt for yourself."

"Ah, I..." Renko's face flushed.

"I expected as much." Ran drank from her cup of miso soup. "You're an interesting case, as a former human who did not become a youkai in extremis. There are scarce few like you— magicians, some other humans who were beloved by youkai until they were no longer seen as human. One of them is a nun at the Myouren Temple, for instance. Most of them aren't the greatest hunters. It's probably not very interesting to them. Or, when they're newborns, it can be repellent. It's a stark contrast to those humans who do become youkai in extremis, who are often more like Yukari in their relationships to humanity."

"It's just... weird to think about." A repulsion wasn't exactly how the thing that Renko felt would best be described. There was a disconnect between the prepared meat and the living being, for certain, but it was, fundamentally, no different from purchasing farm-raised beef or chicken from the grocery store. The degree of separation didn't actually mean anything; the only difference was that if Renko had strangled the chicken herself, she would have had to pluck it, butcher it, and clean up afterwards. There wasn't really any difference, so... It didn't make much sense for her to wake up at noon with the imagined taste of blood in her mouth and sweat pooling around her body. It didn't make sense at all to have the image of Merry's feverish, half-clothed form appear in her mind's eye without warning when she was eating.

Ran looked intently into her eyes. "Personally, I'm not sure what to think about it after seeing the aftermath of that fight that you got into with Lady Yukari." She yawned, exposing rather canine dentition, then took her plate over to the sink, tails swishing from side to side. "Either way, it should only be a few more weeks, and then the barrier should have stabilized. By June, we'll at least have something more interesting to eat, if not that. The tales I've heard of university students say that they can live on nothing but instant ramen for years. You should be able to stand a month."

Renko nodded a bit glumly, then grabbed her hat from the rack. "Well, I'm going to go see if I can find Yukari."

"Good luck. She's not at the shrine. I checked a bit before you woke up."

"Any other ideas?"

"How should I know? Look around and find a place that seems Yukari-like."

"Great, thanks."

With a rush, Renko took off into the early evening sky. The stars weren't out yet, but the sun had started to slip below the horizon now that it was past 6:30. Yukari-like places... the forest below was probably full of them, but speeding over the treetops, they'd be easy to miss. Still, she didn't want to slow down. The wind flowing through her hair, the approach of the scenery up ahead, with the thousands of types of trees she'd never seen before. Come to think of it, she'd never really just explored before, had she? Or rather, without being given an errand to fulfill, she'd barely left the house at all. It didn't make any sense— hadn't she always been the one coming up with new adventures? Why was it that after arriving at last in Merry's dream world, she'd been completely uninterested in exploring it for so long?

A strange-looking lake passed by her right, and she smelled the faint scent of salt. Instantly, she longed to dive towards it, to see if there really was a salt lake here in the mountains of Nagano. But then again, there was the sunflower garden she'd seen on the way back from Kasen's place— so many sunflowers, blooming in May? She had to see that too— but then there was Kasen's house as well, confined in the deep fog, with its dozens of animals— and there was that mysterious basalt ravine on the mountainside— and the bamboo forest near the lights of the village— and that mysterious upside-down castle she saw sometimes, hanging behind the mountain—

That was it. From the first time she'd seen Gensoukyou, she'd been overwhelmed by it all. There was so much that she could do that she did nothing at all. After coming from a world where she'd have to investigate for weeks or months just to see a single oddity, being brought here, by her beloved embodiment of the occult itself, had been an impossibility. It was like when she'd first heard about particle physics, on a children's video program, before she'd learned that it had basically come to an end already. New realities, full of wonders to explore, just waiting for her to reach out and touch them.

Honestly, she didn't really deserve it. People like her who wanted to know and understand everything had been the reason why fantasy had been shoved into the dustbin in the first place. But luckily for her, she wasn't human any more. Even if she catalogued, organized, and explained every single particle in this world, she wouldn't affect it through observation. Schrödinger's cat could be seen to be both alive and dead.

But to observe it, she'd need a better vantage point. It stuck out to her, a looming black thing blocking out the sky. A legendary mountain, taller than Mt. Fuji, but one that had never been recognized as a World Heritage Site. Alone, standing apart from everything else, as if it was too good for the forest surrounding it to touch. She'd seen it once before, in Merry's hand mirror. That would be her observatory. Greenwich's Royal Observatory was on a hill, and it only saw things that were real; if she wanted to see those things that weren't, of course she'd need something taller.

She streaked across the sky, heading straight for the peak. With her cape and skirt fluttering out behind her, she wondered if she looked a little bit like a bat; only from above, though, since her cape's lining was red, and her shirt was white. In that case, she probably looked a little bit more like a blackbird. But neither bats nor blackbirds could race the sunset as quickly as she could.

However, something very much could. A rushing noise, distinct from the wind filling her ears, could be heard, and was followed by the distinct mechanical click of a camera shutter, and a cheerful voice.

"Hello there! Mind giving me a few moments of your time?"

Renko looked over her shoulder. Keeping pace with her without breaking a sweat was another girl with dark hair, a black skirt, and a white shirt like her own. Considering Gensoukyou's variety of fashion, Renko was faintly astonished. However, unlike Renko, her eyes reflected the sunset's red, her hair was much darker, her hat was a rather distinctively boxy shape, and she was holding what appeared to be a real film camera. She nodded politely at Renko.

"Um. All right?"

"Great, great!" The girl beamed. "Wonderful to meet you. I'm Shameimaru Aya, Gensoukyou's premier tengu photojournalist. Oh, and obviously Gensoukyou's premier photojournalist in general, since nobody can compete with us tengu. But I'm just going to ask a few questions, and then I'll be on my way, okay? Or not, if the need arises, but hopefully it won't!"

Renko frowned and folded her arms. It was difficult to maintain the position while flying at such speeds, so she slowed down a bit. "If you're a journalist, I'm going to need to see a press badge. Also, if you're going to print my likeness in any way, you'll need to pay a licensing fee for it, and I'm going to need a contract with the details of use in writing before any publication. Understand?"

"Ayaya..." The tengu visibly deflated. "Youkai from the Outside sure are difficult. How about I put a good word in for you with my bosses and we can call it even? That way, they— and the white wolf tengu, too— won't bother you when you visit the mountain." She pointed to an armband with the word "PRESS" on it. "We don't use photographic badges, but I promise I'm a real reporter."

"A shady character is what you are." But Renko unfolded her arms. "Fine, go ahead, but if I end up in some yellow journalist rag, I'll find you and slap you silly."

"I'm not shady! But feel free. The Bunbunmaru Newspaper is the best in Gensoukyou!" Aya snapped another photograph of Renko now that she was facing her. "...Anyway, first question. You're a dragon, right?"

"Yes?"

"Great!" She stowed the camera, grabbed a notebook, and started scribbling. "Looks like those rumors were right on the money. It's not every day a youkai shows up from the outside world. And right, by the way, just so I have your name correct: It's Usami Renko, isn't it? How do you spell that?"

"U as in 'eaves', sa as in 'assist', mi as in 'to see', Ren as in 'lotus', ko as in 'child'." She prepared herself for the awkward questions.

"Hmm... I feel like I've heard a really similar name before, but no, I might just be losing my touch. Oh well, that's not your problem! Next question: where are you going?"

"The mountain peak." It was fairly obvious, since the two of them were approaching it at a high speed, but journalists did sometimes have to ask obvious questions just to write them down. "I figured that it could be a good observatory."

"Oh, the shrine? Are you an astronomer?"

"It's a hobby. I'm not observing the stars, though." If Gensoukyou did have another shrine, it had to be a pretty run-down sort. The festival at the Hakurei Shrine had been awfully crowded.

"You're just an amateur... How disappointing."

"The etymology for 'amateur' means "to do something for the love of it'. It's the purest motivation that there is. If you were an amateur photojournalist, you'd get more respect."

"Respect is nothing when it comes to revealing the truth."

"People might talk to you more. By the way, weren't tengu supposed to be diurnal?"

"I'm busy looking for asterisms, so I had to come out late. We're mostly crepuscular, anyway. What are you observing, if not the stars?"

"The earthly world."

"That makes a lot more sense, come to think of it." The tengu scribbled furiously in her notebook. "Final question. If you are from the outside world, like the rumors suggest, where in the outside world are you from? I didn't know there were any youkai left out there."

"Me?" Renko thought for a moment. "Kyoto, most recently. Though I spent a lot of time in Tokyo, and it's more amenable to phantasms, I think. People there aren't as interested as closing over the gaps in the quantum world. They're more focused on the everyday."

"Interesting! If a little bit too philosophical for me to publish."

"Let me write an editorial, then. You don't have to endorse it or anything."

"Maybe someday. Well, thank you for your time." With a nod, the tengu girl banked, wheeled, and soared away.

She hadn't been lying; there was, in fact, a shrine on the top of that mountain. Not just a shrine, though, but a lake of an implausible size for it to simply be a mountain spring. There were tall pillars scattered throughout it, and Renko was reminded of a shrine festival she'd heard used to be performed in Nagano. Probably, the lake itself was sacred. She carefully slowed to a halt, then floated to the top of one of the pillars and looked down the mountainside.

All of Gensoukyou really could be seen from here. The Hakurei shrine, straight ahead, to the southwest; the village she had yet to visit, with its lights glowing an inviting amber; a lake covered in mist; dense forests, in a hundred different shapes; a bright red mansion, almost childish in its bright color; that inverted castle, floating again so far away; and the light of the rising moon, blocked every so often by scudding clouds.

She sat, wrapping her tail around the pillar for balance, and watched it for a while. Every so often, there was a short, colorful burst of light, and she imagined the fun that other people were having out in the wilds. Besides Yukari and Ran, she'd not gotten into a fight with anyone yet. At the beginning, it had been convenient, but at this point, it was almost a little disappointing. She'd played a lot of shoot-em-ups as a teen and in university, and now that she'd gotten the chance to be the protagonist of one, nobody wanted to play.

"Hey!"

Or maybe somebody did. She craned her neck over her shoulder to see a blue-and-white streak approaching, then sliding to decelerate in midair.

The streak came to a halt, out of breath. "Hey!"

"Hey." Renko turned around. As the blue-and-white thing came into focus, it revealed itself to be humanoid, in a vaguely shrine maiden-shaped outfit. However, instead of red, the outfit was blue, and the shrine maiden's hair was a vibrant green, with two oddly-shaped tufts sticking out of the top of it.

"You can't be here." The tufts of hair twitched. "This is our terri— er, our shrine."

"Your shrine? Aren't you a youkai?" Renko looked her up and down. Though she was holding a purification rod, and the only really odd thing about her outfit was a set of frog buttons up the front of her vest— Was she a frog youkai? Renko wondered, but then the hair tufts were strange— she didn't feel concrete to interact with, like the humans Renko had met. There was something missing about her, and something else added, too.

The shrine maiden frowned at that. "Of course not. Are you an idiot? What kind of shrine has a youkai shrine maiden?" She looked to the side. "Well, besides the Hakurei Shrine, but that's an exception."

"You're not human, though?"

"I am. But you're not."

"I'm not, no." Renko stood up, carefully. "That's a problem?"

"It's a problem."

Renko laughed awkwardly. "Well, that's unfortunate. I'd really like to keep stargazing here for a while longer."

"You can't."

"I figured as much. I'm Usami Renko, a dragon. I think."

"You think?" The tufts of hair twitched again. "I'm Kochiya Maigi. I'm a wind priestess, the shrine maiden of the Moriya Shrine, and the descendant of its gods. It's my responsibility to keep it a place where humans will visit and give their faith."

"That's a mercenary attitude. Three cards."

"Three cards." The shrine maiden nodded, drifted backwards, and pulled out a stack of amulets. Renko leapt off the pillar into the night air, clutching her hat tightly to her head.

The air around the shrine maiden was suffused with a warm golden light. It seemed that Maigi had taken the chance to initiate combat herself, without giving Renko any room to catch her off guard.

"Great Feast 'Foxes' Wedding'!"

Tiny grains of golden rice, falling like stars, filled the sky. They swirled and whipped every which way, like a typhoon; the torrent grew closer by the second.

Renko fumbled in her skirt pocket for the notebook she always kept on hand. Dodging a stream of microscopic pellets, she finally managed to extricate it and flip to a page in the middle. A crude geometric drawing was followed by a neater caption.

"Magic Eye 'Maxwell's Demon'!"

The sky surrounding the pair of them was filled with lazily-moving orbs of yellow light, differentiable from the shrine maiden's only in shape. As Renko focused, some of the faster orbs began to speed up, turning from yellow, to white, to blue; in turn, some of the slower orbs began to slow yet further, turning from yellow, to orange, to red. The slower-moving orbs began to coalesce around the shrine maiden, making a dense but not impenetrable barrier; meanwhile, the faster-moving orbs zinged around the battlefield, grazing past Renko's face.

She narrowly dodged a shining raincloud, looking over her shoulder just in time, but when she looked ahead again, an orb made of grains suffused in glowing white light was rapidly approaching her face. She shut her eyes tightly and extended her arms in front of her in a desperate effort to direct the pain elsewhere.

Before she felt it, though, she heard a fox's yelp, and opened her eyes. The sunshower of rice was gone, and the shrine maiden was rubbing the side of her neck and wincing. Renko's bullets faded away.

Renko took a deep breath. The shrine maiden was chanting something, but she hadn't called her next spell yet. Renko paged through her notebook, looking for another spell to cast, but all she kept finding were recipes from Ran she'd written down.

There was a loud, echoing noise, almost like a stone breaking in two. It was followed by a shout. Renko looked up.

Next to the shrine maiden, there was a shining figure floating in the air, holding her wrist. They seemed to be arguing about something. Renko tilted her head to hear a bit better.

"—In the middle of the night!"

Maigi groaned, loudly. "You said I was supposed to chase youkai off the shrine grounds. Well, besides—"

"When human visitors are here! Who's taking the ropeway at ten P.M.? Especially on a night when there isn't a festival on. Go on, apologize to our guest."

"Mo— I mean, Lady Sanae— come on..."

Renko had floated over towards them, and was hanging in the air awkwardly. Sanae— or what Renko assumed was Sanae, anyway— had hair almost the same color as Maigi's, if a touch darker, but the feeling she gave off was completely different. She gave the impression of a warm spring breeze, without the slightest malice to it. And yet there was something intimidating about her, standing there in a mundane navy blue skirt suit and a sensible haircut, with an ethereal glow around her.

"Evening." Renko nodded her way.

"Good evening!" Sanae said brightly, then her eyes widened in curiosity. "Hmm... now I get a good look at you, you're not a normal youkai at all. It looks like Maigi might have tried to chase away a good luck charm! You're a dragon, right?"

Renko nodded. "I am. It's kind of awkward to talk while floating like this, though. If you don't mind me treading on your shrine grounds, or anything..."

"Of course! Actually—" Sanae threw Maigi a look Renko couldn't interpret— "do you want to come in for tea? We have a number of varieties for visitors to peruse. All laden with divine blessings, of course!"

Renko alighted on the ground, then shook her head. "That sounds like it wouldn't be good for me."

"Right..." Sanae seemed a bit put out.

Maigi chimed in. "Actually, Lady Suwako's favorite teas are very popular with youkai! Since she's a native god, she's been worshiped since long before impurity was anathema to the gods. I'm sure you'd enjoy them."

"Ah, in that case..."

Before Renko could finish her sentence, Maigi had dashed off into the shrine building. Sanae just smiled after her.

"She's an enthusiastic one, isn't she? When I was her age... well, I guess I can't make a really good comparison. She's been that age for a bit."

Renko stretched her arms. "She's your shrine maiden, right? You're Lady Sanae, and she mentioned Lady Suwako earlier. How many gods does this shrine have?"

"Just three, for now. Lady— er, just Kanako— is the third. Together, you can think of us as something like harvest gods, I guess? We're pretty lucky that Gensoukyou doesn't have any real Inari shrines... well, maybe she's not that lucky. Otherwise we might have gotten a fourth god here." Sanae twisted a loose strand of hair around her finger.

"Lady Kanako?" Renko tilted her head. "You're the youngest, right?"

Sanae laughed. "Yep! Actually, Maigi's only about fifty years younger than I am... I used to be the shrine maiden of this shrine in the outside world, and stayed on when we moved to Gensoukyou. I'm one of Suwako's distant descendants, though, so spending so much time in a magic-infused environment like this... well, you see how I am now. It's nice!" A pause. "Though I do miss some of my friends from when I was human. The ones who are still around don't come up here to see me any more... I guess we don't have that much in common nowadays, though." She took off towards the shrine building at a speedy clip. Renko jogged alongside.

"You're— from the outside world, too?" It took everything Renko had to not add "a former human", but she hoped that her unsteady pace masked the unevenness of her words.

"Ah! That's why I haven't seen you around." Sanae twirled in place to face Renko, a gesture unfitting for her attire. "When did you come to Gensoukyou? I've been here about a hundred and fifty years, more or less."

"Uh, about a month ago?" Renko mumbled. She stepped onto the shrine porch, becoming a meager few centimeters taller than Sanae.

Sanae's eyes practically shone. "Wow! So you know all about the outside world of today! I'm so jealous... I haven't been able to visit in decades, even though Suwa's so close. Do they still have Pokemon?"

"Like, the AR game? Or the anime? The anime's been discontinued for a couple of decades outside of movies, but they still show reruns sometimes." Renko shrugged. "I was never that into it."

Sanae frowned. "What about the handheld games? I still have so many tens of thousands of hours in HeartGold... Oh, and a couple thousand in White, too. But I got that one secondhand when I was in my twenties, so I never got as into it. And my GBA died in 2083... the kappa couldn't fix it..." She sighed.

"Handheld? They've been on consoles since the 2020s, haven't they...? Well, not that they make them for consoles any more either. They stopped doing that in the 90s. I think. Like I said, I was never really that into it." Renko gave her an apologetic look. "Sorry."

Sanae wilted. "It's okay... Do they at least have hoverboards? I wanted them to be real so badly when I was a kid, but by the time Sumi was coming here they only had those weird scooters..."

"They have maglev for trains and all, but helium's still too expensive for individuals to be able to use it. The stocks are still being built up again with fusion after humanity almost depleted the Earth's crust of it last century."

"But the technology is there! That's awesome!" Sanae pumped her fist in the air. "I'll have to tell Kanako about that. I'm sure the humans here would love to be able to fly a little bit." She giggled. "Oh, and sorry for talking your ear off about Pokemon earlier. But the first time I ever saw a raijuu for real was here in Gensoukyou, you know? It was really cool... well, I bet you've seen a ton of them, since dragons are seen around lightning."

Maigi leaned out of the shrine door and handed Renko a steaming cup. Holding it, Renko sat down on the shrine stairs and took a sip. Maigi perched next to her, staring at her face with an intense expression.

"Hot!" Renko coughed. "You're going to burn green tea if you boil it like that, you know? Anyway, I've actually never seen a raijuu myself. Outside of that one mascot, obviously."

"Oh, really!" Sanae put a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry for getting your secondary typing wrong."

"My what?"

"Well, you're obviously Dragon type, right? I thought your secondary typing was Electric, since most Japanese dragons are either that or Water, and it's not even raining right now, much less storming. So what is it?"

Renko took another sip of tea. "Are you really a god?"

"Gods are gods! And gods can be into—" Sanae dramatically wiped a tear from the corner of her eye— "dead video game series, too. So what is it? If you don't have the types memorized, I can list them off for you and you can give me a yay or nay, maybe?"

"Sure." Renko looked over at Maigi. "This tea's pretty good, even burned. Can I get some to take home?"

"Ten or twenty monme?"

"Um." Renko blinked.

Sanae laughed. "A monme's about four grams."

"Oh. Ten monme, then."

Maigi disappeared into the shrine before Renko could ask about the price. Sanae leaned towards her across the porch. "So!"

"So." Renko set down her teacup and folded her hands. "I admit my ignorance. I only remember Fire, Grass, Water, Electric, Psychic... I think there was Flying, too?"

"Right! There are a lot more, but all of those do really exist. And we've ruled out Water and Electric... What do you think about Fire?"

Renko thought about it for a bit. She didn't run that warm, and she hadn't been able to conjure anything of that nature. She could see the movements of stars, and people used to think that stars were made of fire, but they were really a different type of plasma. "Nope."

"Just 'nope'? You're really not making my life easy here... Grass?"

"I'm terrible at growing anything."

"There's stuff like that one tumbleweed Pokemon, isn't there? You don't necessarily have to be good at it... Psychic?"

"That's my great-aunt." Renko blurted out before she could help herself, then slammed her mouth shut.

Sanae giggled. "So there's someone in the family! Maybe that fits, then?"

"I'm not sure."

"Dark, then?"

"I'm nocturnal and I wear a lot of black, but I don't think that I'm that evil."

"You're a youkai, though?" Sanae seemed a little smug. "Fighting?"

"I have a scholar's constitution. At least for a dragon." Though she had won that fight earlier.

"Ground? No, you can fly pretty fast. You're not a Flygon. Not chilly enough for Ice, either." Sanae shook her head. "Rock?"

"I'm pretty good at throwing rocks at things. Decent aim." Renko nodded. "I don't think it's thematic, but it doesn't have to be."

"No, it has to be! Otherwise it's just an uncreative design. Flying? Well, plenty of dragons are flying type..."

"We can come back to that."

"Okay. Bug?"

Renko wrinkled her nose.

"Not bug." Sanae nodded. "Steel?"

"Hmm... Physics is pretty steely. Only if you're doing large-scale things, though. High-energy physics is a lot mushier."

"Why do you mention physics?"

"Oh, I was a physicist for a while in the outside world." Renko blinked. "Anyway, no to steel."

"Poison?"

"I don't think I am, but if you'd like me to bite you, we can test that."

"No thanks. Ghost?"

"Do I look dead to you?" Renko folded her arms. "Nope!"

"Okay, the only type that remains is—" Sanae slapped her forehead. "No, there's one more. Fairy? I wouldn't ask this one if you'd been living in Gensoukyou for a while, because a lot of people take offense to it, but I promise I'm not calling you stupid."

Renko pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well, I wouldn't say that the type is that unfitting for anything supernatural, but I feel I know someone else who fits it more."

"Can't you both be the same type?"

"Nope."

"There's one type left, but you're definitely not Normal, so let's circle back to—"

Renko interrupted her. "What do you mean, I'm not normal?"

"I mean, just look at you." Sanae stuck her pointed finger in Renko's face. "You're nowhere near a stereotypical dragon. You spent way too much time in the outside world for that, and you don't look normal either. And you're not the sum of all Dragon types, capable of the strengths of any of them, like Arceus. You're weird!"

"What do you mean, not a stereotypical dragon?" Renko angrily took a swig of tea. "You're not a stereotypical god, either."

"Of course I'm not. That's why I'm Grass/Fairy." Sanae rested her head in her chin. "I feel like I'm missing something, though."

"You're not missing anything. I'm just a normal dragon."

"No, not about you. This was just a fun exercise, anyway." Sanae waved her hand dismissively. "But there are eighteen types, right? Fairy was added after I came here, so I've never played a game with it in it, but Sumi told me about it. I don't think I'm missing any others, though. But I feel like I am?"

"I have no idea. You were supposed to be the one remembering for me." Renko stood up as Maigi came out the door with her tea. "Well, it's been nice talking to you, but I'm going to take my tea and leave for somewhere I can stargaze in peace."

"Ah!" Sanae's face brightened for a split second, then returned to normal. "Right. Good night, strange dragon! I don't think I ever got your name."

Renko handed Maigi some cash, then stuffed her purse back in her skirt and looked back over to Sanae. "It's Usami Renko. Good night, Sanae..."

"Kochiya."

"Good night, Kochiya Sanae."

Renko calmly flew off into the starry sky.

Behind her, Sanae's face held a smile, as if she'd heard a secret no one else knew yet. She whispered something into Maigi's ear, but Renko was too far away to hear it.

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

The stars were well and truly out now.

Even though the fight had been a short one, it had been exhilarating. Renko's cheeks were flushed, and her heart was still racing as she flew northeast. She'd been able to map out a few locations to visit in future, too, but the most important part was that she'd won her first danmaku match! Or close enough. She'd been winning when it was interrupted, and that's what she'd be able to tell Yukari when she showed up in the morning for dinner.

She landed softly on a tree branch just outside the front gate. There was no one around to impress but herself, of course. Ran would be out, and if Yukari had returned, there was no sign of her outdoors. But still, after her unfortunate first landing, she had been practicing just in case. She jumped to the ground, nearly rendering her efforts for naught as she landed too close to the balls of her feet and leaned forward. She adjusted her balance with her tail just in time, and stood up.

As she stood, and her vision leveled with the gate, she noticed something strange. There was something moving in the garden, and it wasn't golden in color. Her first thought was Chen, but it wasn't moving very quickly, and the vermilion dress Chen usually wore would have been a lot more distinctive than the indistinct form was. Slowly, she stepped inside the garden and looked around.

That unknown something was crouched by the pond, staring at the fish. It was smartly dressed in a pair of dark green chinos and somewhat-matching blazer, and was fiddling with something in its left hand. Its hair wasn't an unusual color— a cool dark brown, bordering on black— but was remarkably long and very smooth, as if it had been straightened recently. To the figure's left was a rigid, rectangular bag.

Renko realized just what it was, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Um... hello?" She called out quietly, hoping not to startle them.

It wasn't that it was unusual to encounter humans in Gensoukyou. After all, she'd encountered one (or what counted for one, anyway) just earlier that day. But this was a different story altogether.

The human shoved her phone in her pants pocket and turned. "Oh, hello!"

Yukari and Ran had both been glib about it to the extent of humor, but the truth was that, for a human from the present world, being in Gensoukyou alone put you in great danger. Let alone inside the home of a man-eating monster. This was probably what Ran had meant when she mentioned "flotsam drifting ashore."

"I— I think you should leave." Renko said, shortly.

"Hold on a second." The human walked towards her and stared intently at her face. "I know you."

Renko searched her memory, but it came up blank. If she had met this girl, she didn't remember her. Though the outfit was distinctive, there was something about it that blended in in a certain familiar way that made it seem unremarkable from her point of view. The manner of speech was a little less polite than that of most humans, but it wasn't remarkably so; definitely not to the extent of the human beings of Gensoukyou. And there weren't any unusual features Renko could pick out on her face or body, except for a pair of light hazel eyes. Designer, probably— she was well-off.

"You do?" Renko's tail flicked awkwardly.

"You're a physics major at Kyodai, right? Or, that is to say, you were? You should've graduated this spring, I think?"

"I was." She nodded. "And you?"

"Nankurokawa Masaki. I'm a second-year in Astro. You're Usami Renko, right? I think we talked once or twice before you graduated. Are you out here for a cosplay photoshoot?"

Renko blinked. Though the human hadn't moved, she felt like she'd just been slapped across the face. She wasn't sure exactly why— even if it was ridiculous to assume that her tail moving on its own was something robotic, that was just an insult, not a physical attack. It took her a moment to adjust and give an affirmative answer. "I'm Usami Renko, yeah. I'm not here on a photoshoot, though. And you should probably leave."

"No way! You just cosplay for fun, then? I should hook you up with a photographer. I have some friends, and— well, you did say I should leave. Is this private property?" She looked through her phone for a moment, then shut it off. "It's probably best not to waste the battery looking people up right now. And I don't have signal anyway... I've been wandering around this place for ages. Though I haven't gone inside, because I felt like that might be a little too much, you know?"

"It's not cosplay." Renko frowned. "It is private property, though. Why were you wandering around someone's house in the middle of the woods in the first place?"

"Honestly? I don't know." Masaki's expression grew tense. "It's a little concerning, actually. I just ended up here somehow, and after looking for someone to show me the way back to civilization, I tried to find my own way back. But no matter how far I walk into the woods, when I turn around, I'm always right back here. Creepy, right?" She laughed.

"That doesn't sound like just a bad sense of direction..." Renko decided to avoid mentioning that it was definitely purposeful. "What do you mean, you just ended up here somehow?"

A nervous expression, scratching the back of her neck. It made Renko feel odd, somehow, but she ignored it. "The thing is... I don't remember. At all. I was heading home from class at the end of the day, but between then and now there are a lot of blanks. I know I got off the train at the botanical gardens, and that was definitely earlier in the night— like eight or so— and I don't know what time it is now, because my phone's clock says it's desynced for some reason? Anyway—"

Renko interrupted after glancing at the sky. "1:11:18 AM."

"...How do you know that?" Masaki laughed nervously. "Or are you just making a good guess?"

"It's my special talent. I can infer the time from the position of the stars and my location from the position of the moon. We're at..." Well, the location wasn't exactly clear even to her right here. But the location just before she'd entered the barrier was. "About 36° North, 138°5' East. In eastern Nagano."

"Nagano?" The human jumped. "You're joking, right? Please tell me you're joking. Otherwise, I'm going to start actually considering the possibility that I was kidnapped."

"I'm not joking." Renko flicked her tail in annoyance. "And yes, you probably were, though I'm curious as to why you were considering that before you found out you were in the middle of nowhere. You could have hit your head and wandered off."

"Well, um..." Another nervous giggle. They were starting to get to Renko. "It sounds stupid when I say it like this, but the one thing I do remember between the botanical gardens and now is the sensation of someone or something... grabbing me? I don't know, maybe it's a repressed memory from my childhood or something, but I have this weird feeling like something dragged me here. Someone. I don't know why I keep saying something. It's not like a wild animal would drag me away from the middle of the city. Anyway, I wondered if someone dragged me here after kidnapping me."

"Well, she probably did..." is what Renko would have said, had she not paused for a moment. If Yukari had kidnapped this girl, why didn't the girl remember her? The gaps in her memory would make more sense if she was unconscious, and Yukari didn't need to knock her out. And furthermore, why was she just wandering around in the garden, with no sense of purpose? Yukari wasn't even here, it seemed, so even if she'd just been left here to tire herself out, there was the possibility that she'd eventually find one of the minute gaps in the barrier and escape. It was much more likely that someone had kidnapped her or she'd gotten lost in the Outside World, run off, and wandered into the barrier on her own. Probably the former, if she felt like she'd been grabbed. "Maybe someone did."

Masaki frowned. "You don't have anything to say about how likely that is? You know how rare a crime kidnapping is in Japan, right? Based on base rates alone, it's inconceivable that I'd end up as a victim of it. It's obviously far more likely that I got lost and forgot it... somehow." She looked troubled.

"You're a physicist. You know how we feel about close-to-zero chances. They aren't zero." Renko wagged a finger. "Even if you're barely a second-year, you should at least know that much."

"You're fresh out of undergrad. I don't think you have any business lecturing me." The human condescended. "There's a non-zero chance that there's a teapot orbiting between here and Mars, but that doesn't mean I have to act like there's a teapot orbiting between here and Mars. When chances are small enough, you can treat them as zero."

"Even if the evidence right in front of your eyes tells you to reevaluate those chances?" Renko said testily.

"Especially then. That's when you're most likely to be fooled by your own senses." Masaki shrugged dismissively. "Like, for example, when I saw you for the first time, I could have believed that you had horns and a tail, but I demurred, and went with the much more likely option that it was a costume. I'd believe in all kinds of ridiculous things if I let my senses act as incontrovertible evidence."

Renko felt a lump form in her throat. "Like what?"

"Oh, there were some insane rumors that after you graduated that girlfriend of yours you were always talking about— what was her name again? Started with an M, maybe? Showed up and pulled you into some kind of other dimension in front of a big crowd. There were some pretty convincing deepfake videos of it too. Scary stuff!" She laughed. "But I figured you just went off to be a hermit somewhere away from your family, and it looks like I was right."

"Her name is—" Renko's heart was pounding. She took a deep breath to calm herself, and pictured Merry's student visa in her head. The name— both in Roman letters and katakana— was right there on the first page. "Her name is Maerieberie Hearn."

"Oh, that's what it was! You always called her Mary-something." Masaki's expression darkened. "She disappeared or something in the autumn, though, didn't she? Without even leaving you a note. We thought that she went back home for a while, but then there was the police investigation. I don't think it's a good idea to pretend that she's still around."

Renko's hands were balled into fists. She felt a stinging in the corners of her eyes, and her face was burning. Her tail was flicking from side to side at a rapid pace. "I don't think it's a good idea to act like you understand anything about this."

"You can't let sentimentality get in the way of basic facts. Is that why you're out in the middle of nowhere on someone else's private property? You're looking for your girlfriend?" A sympathetic, but all too condescending look. "Hearn's gone. You need to get back to reality and tell your family where you've been."

"I really think you should leave." Renko's vision had begun to distort. The tears in the corners of her eyes had spread throughout the rest of them, and the water was warping the scene in front of her. It was probably better that way, so she couldn't see the human's expression. "Now. You never know when the one who brought you here might come back."

"I told you earlier, there's no way that I was kidnapped." Still, the human flinched at the force in her words. It was a nice feeling. Renko had to press the advantage.

"That's not what I mean." Renko said bluntly. "You said earlier that you couldn't find your way out of this place. That is intentional. The person who lives here put up a barrier as a trap for anyone who wanders in, so they can't escape."

"What are you talking about?" The human's voice increased in pitch. "Is this some of your weird occult club stuff? It's not funny."

"You'll never escape this place on your own, because you're trapped by common sense itself. You need either me or Merry to guide you out, and she certainly won't do anything of the sort. She's the one who trapped you here." Renko took a quick breath and continued, words spilling out on top of each other. "She's alive. This is her home, after reality— people like you— decided that she didn't fit in a scientific universe. And she hates you for it." The heat in Renko's face had spread to her entire body. "Have you ever wondered what would happen if an illusion tried to murder you?"

"Murder me?" Her voice wavered. "Well, if it's an illusion, then it wouldn't matter in the first place, but what you're talking about isn't really an illusion, is it?"

Renko took a step forward. "Isn't it? What do we call any ideas of physics outside the Unified Standard Model? We don't call them reality, do we?"

"I don't know what that has to do with any of this." The human's chest was moving in and out quickly.

"You can treat things with an infinitesimally small chance of existing as if they don't exist, isn't that right? What if a human came into existence with an interesting ability— the ability to alter the very foundations of the world? What chance would you assign to that?" The lump had disappeared from Renko's throat, and she felt as if she was made of pure energy. "Tell me."

"I— I don't know what you mean." The human took a step back and nearly lost her balance on a rock. Her eyes widened in terror for a moment. "What are the foundations of reality? Violating the fundamental laws of physics, or—"

"What if a human existed who could turn night to day, or day to night? What if a human existed who could turn frozen liquid to ice just by thinking about the motion of the particles? What if a human existed who could create something from nothing? What if a human existed who could change dreams to reality, not just on a philosophical level, but in actual truth? What's the chance of that?" Renko took another step forwards, then another. "I know you can answer me."

"That's impossible by definition." The human shook her head. "Dreams are dreams— and illusions are illusions— because they are not real. Creating something from nothing violates all the known laws of physics, for certain— but it doesn't violate the very definition of reality itself. It's a non sequitur."

Renko lunged and grabbed her left wrist. The human shrieked.

"Tell me then. Is this a dream, or is it reality?"

"Let go! I'll send you to jail for assault!"

"If it's a dream, then nothing I do matters, and I can smash your head open against those rocks without you having a care in the world besides a moment of anxiety when you awaken. If it's reality, you should push me away, so that you don't die. Which is it? I've known the answer for a long time."

The human grabbed one of her horns and wrenched it sideways as hard as she could, screaming something unintelligible. Renko yelped, and reached ahead for something to balance herself with her left hand. She caught hold of the human's shoulder, but it couldn't support her weight and they both went tumbling to the ground, the human on top of her.

"Right answer."

She twisted the human's wrist, and heard a sharp, pained breath next to her ear. Just a little more pressure, to hear that sound again. Another twist, though, and there was a soft pop, then a whimper as her wrist went limp in Renko's hand. There was a pressure on Renko's torso as the human's knees curled up towards her chest, and Renko pushed her away hard, slamming her back first into the ground. There was another sharp breath, louder this time, then another, in a rhythmic pattern. Renko looked down into her half-shut eyes to see them glistening. She was sobbing.

Slowly, deliberately, Renko leaned down and placed a hand under the human's chin. She didn't offer the slightest resistance, or even seem to react as Renko lowered her body until their chests almost touched. Nor when Renko's head dipped down close enough to her skin to feel the faint warmth she gave off in the cool May night. Only when she felt the sharp tips of fangs closing around her trachea did she begin to thrash wildly.

The flesh gave way more easily than she expected. Living as a human, it was easy to think of the throat as surrounded by soft flesh, but sturdy enough itself. But there was little distinction between muscle and cartilage excepting that the snapping noises that one made when broken were louder than those of the other. She swallowed each bite without chewing, ravenous not only for the richly flavored meat but for the deep feeling of rightousness she felt in the act of consumption. Justice, as with life itself, was without meaning. But to devour in their entirety the things that hated the absolute truth, the things that had denied reality as pure fiction... that, if nothing else in the world, was right.

"My, my."

Renko felt a soft weight on her back and turned, snarling.

Yukari quickly withdrew her hand, and giggled. "It's just me, it's just me. Ah, but you do look lovely. Red really is your color, far more than it is mine."

Recognizing the voice, Renko blinked several times, then wiped her hand across her face. As the hand itself was already stained a bright red, it did little to make her appear more presentable.

"I'm glad that you enjoyed my gift. I had to go a bit out of my way to get it, but it seems like it was well worth the effort. Are you still hungry?"

Renko started to shake her head, but her stomach, unwilling to go along with the white lie, interrupted with a growl. She nodded.

"Good, you're being honest." Yukari softly pinched her cheek. When she drew her hand away, the thumb and forefinger of her white glove was dyed crimson. "Would you like me to prepare a proper meal for you, or would you prefer to remain out here for a while?"

Renko stood up, her legs wobbling a bit. "Proper food please."

"All right. You'll need to clean yourself up a little first, though. Is it okay if I bring this inside with me?" Yukari, having produced a fan from somewhere, used it to gesture at the cadaver.

Wordlessly, Renko nodded. A gap opened in the ground beneath it, and Renko, forgetting to move, nearly fell into it alongside her quarry before Yukari caught her by the collar.

"Careful."

Renko smiled sheepishly at her. Yukari swept her feet out from under her and lifted her without the slightest effort, then carried her indoors, kicking her shoes off as she went. She moved quickly enough that Renko clung to her without thinking, but immediately felt a bit bad about it for ruining her clothes. However, when they reached the bathroom, Yukari matter-of-factly disrobed as well.

"I've been running around Kyoto all evening, so I'm dreadfully tired. Here." She pulled towels, Renko's nightclothes, and a thin shift for herself out of thin air and placed them out of the way of the warm water. "I'll have to clean up again later, but the grime of the city does terrible things to my hair, you know."

Renko, immersing herself in the warm water, didn't respond immediately, but in a few moments with a small "Mhm."

"Oh, good, you've not lost your ability to vocalize entirely. Ran's a terrible conversationalist most of the time." A quartet of Yukari's hands were shampooing her hair while she stood primly with the original pair clasped in front of her. "Too much trying to figure out the hidden meaning in my words, not enough actually figuring out the hidden meaning in my words. I was worried for a bit that you'd revert to the state of a newborn youkai, without the need for interpersonal communication, but it seems my fears were unfounded. Mostly, at least."

"I like talking to you." Renko pointed at her back. "Clean?"

"Very well." Yukari set to scrubbing it free of any blood, dirt, and grime that remained after the warm water.

Renko emerged from the shower about thirty minutes later, fresh as a daisy. Yukari had gone on ahead to the kitchen; when Renko arrived, she was bemused by the sight of Yukari, in a completely spotless apron but with her hair pinned up regardless, standing at the counter and deboning a thigh with a methodical air.

"Ah, Renko. I would have waited for you, but I had the suspicion that asking you for help in your current state— or for that matter, in any other— might have resulted in meat being stuck to the opposite wall and you losing a finger or two. You haven't had a lot of time to get used to cooking, after all."

She set the bones aside and began to remove the skin.

"However, I do have one task that I think you'll be capable of." A grater, a bowl, and a distinctively shaped rhizome appeared on the table. "Could you prepare the wasabi for me, please? I thought we might go with sashimi, since it's fresh."

Renko set about grating the rhizome into the bowl. She had never had fresh wasabi before, though apparently it wasn't quite extinct; it was simply suitable only for cultivation in indoor facilities, and the demand for it was not so high that preparing it from a powder for easier storage was unacceptable. The sharp scent stung her nose, and she almost sneezed.

Yukari arrived with a plate covered with thinly sliced meat, arranged in a floral shape, and set it on the table alongside chopsticks and ponzu. Renko wondered what the flower was supposed to be for a minute, then realized.

"Lotus flower?"

"Quite right. I felt it was fitting." She giggled. "Now, as the guest of honor, would you kindly dig in? My mouth is starting to water here."

Renko picked out an appealing piece, added ponzu and wasabi, and took a bite. She smiled enthusiastically, and Yukari grinned back.

"Well, with that seal of approval, how can I resist? Thank you for the meal." She took a piece without any seasoning and chewed it slowly. "Ah, lovely. What an exquisite amalgam of dreadful emotions. Why, one might say that you're a natural at this."

Renko chewed and swallowed quickly. "Thanks." She picked up another piece.

"Once you're done, we should go out and see if the butterflies have started to gather yet. It is May, and they can make for quite the lovely visual when they descend upon a scene." Yukari took another piece, this time with ponzu and wasabi. "Do take your time, though. There's more than enough there for them to gather around it for hours."

"Butterflies?" Renko hadn't seen that many in Gensoukyou, besides those in Yukari's butterfly house, though the weather still wasn't that warm. There weren't that many flowers in Yukari's garden, either.

"My favorites." A dreamy smile. "They're so terribly resourceful. That's why they're still alive in the Outside, you know. They're a lovely black and violet."

"Do you have a butterfly guidebook? I'm not used to seeing many of them, and I don't want to drag you around all summer."

Yukari's voice was angelic. "Anything for you, my beloved Renko."

Hearing the word "love" fall so explicitly from Yukari's lips was shocking enough for Renko to drop her piece of sashimi straight onto the tabletop.

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

Deep in the mountains, in a valley covered in the lush green foliage of summer, lies a village.

This isn't unusual on its own. The snaking rivers and streams of Japan are often abutted by such constructions, established tens or hundreds of years ago, with haphazardly erected buildings capped in tile or tin.

What is unusual is that this one is inhabited. With the consistent decline in population over the past century and a half, the people who remain have moved into the cities. Even Tokyo is being hollowed out, and the streets that began to crack before anyone living can remember are being covered in the hardy flowering plants that can still bear the weather.

To people of the modern day, the fact that this village is still inhabited might be mysterious. But in fact, it's the most natural thing in the world. Its inhabitants have nowhere else to go; monsters lurk outside its walls, and even if they managed to avoid them, they're barricaded off from the rest of civilization by an impenetrable barrier.

However, they don't seem to care about that.

On the contrary, from my viewpoint, the village's residents are thriving. The fish market below is crowded with chatting customers. The stalls' roofs- if you can really call them that- are brightly colored, covered in advertisem*nts for the proprietors' selections. It's so unlike the dimly-lit, grey and white Toyosu. There are even kids running through the street, bumping into people and making messes. It's as if they've incorporated the idea of dealing with youkai as just another one of life's daily stresses, and with that, have set it aside.

In a sense, the human beings here are more carefree than those in Kyoto. Though the youkai have placed a thumb on the scales a little. I wonder if our world would adapt so easily?

Well, it's not really "our world", but you get the idea.

Renko shut her notebook with a soft thump. It had been a month since she had visited the Moriya Shrine, and summer was in its full stride. She had visited— and taken notes on—several places since then; the perpetually foggy lake, like an unending illusion; the flying inverted castle, where she'd met another horned being that had refused to tell her what she was, because she said that she was curious about it and the being thought it would be fun not to indulge her curiosity; and the sulfurous hot springs near the shrine, which had reminded her vaguely of Merry's descriptions of Yomi before she'd settled in and relaxed.

There was one place that she had been avoiding, though. Even though it had been made very clear to her that in practice, nobody had issue with youkai visiting the village as long as they didn't do so too often and too blatantly, she'd still been putting it off.

She'd been telling herself that it was because she was too visibly inhuman— no matter how hard Ran tried to help her, she was unable to hide her horns and tail in the slightest. The true reason was currently acting as a testament to her self-control. That was why she was visiting the fish market in the first place; the provenance there was a welcome substitute target for her daydreams.

Still, she had to pinch her own cheek and shake her head to tear her gaze away. She sat up, turned around, and slid down the back of the roof she'd been lying on into the alley behind. She landed on a worn-out bucket, crushing it instantly.

The village's back alleys were convenient. Renko wondered if they were constructed by youkai; on the one hand, it would be useful to have an easy way of maneuvering around the village without being seen, but on the other hand, such a blatant grab for power might not do them any favors. Even if it was technically freely available knowledge that the village belonged to the youkai, it wasn't really in their best interests to advertise it.

It was still useful. She wasn't particularly in the mood to have a long conversation with a human, at least until she was better aware of exactly where frustration ended and danger began nowadays. Yukari probably wouldn't let her be exterminated, but Renko would at least be sleeping on the porch for a few days if she swatted something in her butterfly pavilion.

Checking both ways for passersby, she confirmed that the street was suitably empty, and dashed out the village gate. She sped up, preparing for takeoff, then collided with something very solid.

It made an indignant noise, and Renko looked down. A dour looking, dark-haired child wearing a white silk camellia on her head had caught her balance, but seemingly not her breath, before falling over.

"My bad."

The girl's eyes widened. Somehow, Renko was reminded of Yukari; she thought for a moment that it must have been the color, but no, there was something else about them.

"You're—?"

"Have we met?"

Without responding, the girl dashed past Renko. Renko, unthinking, shot out a hand and grabbed her collar. She stopped with a jerk, then suddenly, like a discarded doll, slumped unceremoniously to the ground.

Renko's heartbeat sped up for a moment. She couldn't have— but on the other hand, humans were so very fragile— but on the other other hand... She felt a faint, warm emotion that wasn't her own, and relaxed. To be afraid, one had to be alive. The girl must have just fainted.

Still, the situation wasn't resolved just yet. They were still outside the village's gates, which presented a problem. If Renko just left her there, someone might snatch her up. But if, while waiting for the girl to wake up, she was found next to a fainted human, she'd be blamed for it. And if she carried her into the village, it would be even worse; guaranteed, rather than possible, castigation.

In that case, it was probably just better to pick her up and carry her to a safe location until she woke up, then guide her back afterwards. The worst that could happen there was that the human slandered her about it, and worse slander than that happened in a physics department every other day.

With her mind made up, she slung the girl over her shoulder and took off into the sky, looking around for a reasonable place to land. She settled on the roof of an abandoned warehouse, a few hundred meters from the village, but just out of sight enough that she wouldn't get any odd looks.

It was flat enough that she could set the girl down and wait for her to awaken, rather than having to hold her in place, which was helpful, too.

The summer's evening sky was still bright as daytime at 7:19:51.

With a gasp, the girl sat up. "Don't eat me, please! It would be a terrible idea for both of us."

Renko blinked at her.

"I said, it would be a terrible idea!" The girl said indignantly.

"I wasn't actually planning on it."

"Then why did you kidnap me?"

"You fainted outside the village. It was safer to bring you somewhere else and keep an eye on you, so I wouldn't end up exterminated and you wouldn't end up snatched up by anyone else. I'm not exactly starving to death just yet." Renko curled her tail around her knees defensively.

The girl sighed with relief. "Well, don't go around grabbing people, then."

"It wasn't my intention. Why would it be a bad idea, though?"

"The Yama would get angry at you. And probably the sages, too." The girl readjusted her kimono. "I'm not as sure about the latter half, but the former is guaranteed. I work for her."

"What's a servant of Hell doing in the village?" Renko took off her hat and set it down on the roof.

"Only part-time servant of Hell. The rest of my time— that is to say, the time I'm alive, rather than dead— is spent compiling the Gensoukyou Chronicle."

Renko's mind was a blank. "I've never heard of it."

The girl frowned at her. "Does the name Hieda no Aji ring a bell? Or Akyuu, for that matter?"

"Hmm." Renko cupped her chin in her hands for a moment. There was something about the name that was memorable, but she couldn't place it. There was something else about it that was funny, though. "I'm not sure why you're going around telling anyone not to eat you when your name is that of all things."

"It's from the Buddhist meaning. " Aji said a bit less charmingly than her name would indicate.

"I see."

"I was right earlier that you're not from Gensoukyou, wasn't I?" Aji stood and stretched. "If you were, you'd understand the meaning of the name Hieda."

"Oh!" Renko realized it. "Like the one who compiled the Kojiki? And yes, of course I'm not."

The girl nodded. "Exactly! My ancestor, Hieda no Are, made a deal to remember everything that she saw related to the chronicling of Japan's history. This has continued throughout all of our reincarnations, and for over 1300 years, I have been chronicling the history of this land, Gensoukyou. Since you youkai live by being believed in, if I write an article on you, it helps you live a bit longer; and if I include countermeasures for dealing with you in that article, it helps out the humans who have to deal with you. It's symbiotic, in a way."

"I see, so that's why the sages would be unhappy if you died prematurely. Why did you assume that I wasn't from Gensoukyou, though?"

"Dragons haven't been seen in Gensoukyou since it was founded. Also, this." Aji held out a newspaper article. The title read Stargazing Dragon Spotted on Youkai Mountain. "The other youkai have mentioned you. Usami Renko, right?"

"Right." Renko picked up the article and began to read. It was a bit of a fluff piece, but it mentioned some terms that she was unfamiliar with. She'd have to ask Yukari about them later, or figure them out herself. "Is that why you acted like you knew me earlier?"

"Yes." Aji nodded. "To tell you the truth, I was of the opinion that this article was entirely fabricated until then. It's a bit too strange."

"What's strange?"

"Everything, recently. You're from the outside world, right? Do you know anything about physics? I've been hearing the strangest things about it recently."

"I know some." Considering that she'd physically discovered an entire new dimension, Renko was confident in the fact that she was smarter than Planck.

"I read an article recently on the hydrostatic destabilization of multi-star systems. I'm sure that it's possible, but the article was claiming that it could be predicted, of all things. How do you predict that a star will explode? Anyway, it's those sorts of things that I've been hearing about. You probably don't care, since you're a youkai, but..."

Renko frowned. So there had been a journal article on it, but it had been so poorly-received that it had drifted into phantasm immediately. "Anything can be predicted, if you know the starting conditions and can model the behavior. The problem comes in knowing the starting conditions, usually."

"Does anyone know enough of them to predict when stars die?" Aji pulled her kimono around herself.

"Not exactly. If you wanted to know the exact date when, for example, Betelgeuse would destabilize and implode, you'd have to be Laplace's demon. But current models can get within, oh, a few hundred years or so. It's a massive improvement from last century, when the models were off by the thousands. Modeling improvements are practically all that's possible nowadays. The cost of observation's too high."

"So theoretically, that article could have been correct on predicting it within the next century. I see. And Laplace's demon is? Some sort of being from Makai?"

Renko shook her head. "It's a metaphor-being that humans never really believed in. A thought experiment. A mathematician a long time ago came up with the idea of a being that was capable of knowing the position and momentum of every particle in existence at any given point in time, and argued that therefore it would be able to predict the entire future and understand the entire past of the universe. It's an argument for a deterministic reality, essentially. Though later physicists have argued that it violates the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, it's kind of pointless to argue with a metaphor."

"Is the demon called Laplace, then? And do you think that something like that exists?" Aji tilted her head to the side. She seemed to be hiding something, but Renko wasn't certain as to what; she'd been very forthcoming about her thoughts so far.

"No, that's the mathematician. And, well, if it does exist, it's definitely not doing anything with that power it has right now. Otherwise, we'd have some idea of it. Since, after all, a universe where belief shapes reality can't be deterministic." Renko laughed. "If something like Laplace's demon existed, it would be able to change reality on a whim, beyond just being able to understand all of it."

"I don't really understand what you mean about determinism, but please don't bother explaining it."

Renko looked miffed.

"I apologize, but I don't have the time. I need to return to the village before my servants start to worry about me." Aji bowed deeply.

"Are you sure you don't want me to carry you back? It's—" Renko glanced up at the sky for a few short seconds. "7:43:18. The sun will be setting soon, and you're very small."

Aji stared at her. "It's what?"

"It's 7:43:42. PM, that is." Renko gestured at the darkening sky. "On Monday, the 17th of June, 2155 CE."

The girl looked directly at her for a few seconds. Those eyes really reminded her of Yukari's in this dim light. It wasn't just the color. There was something that they saw that other people did not. And that something seemed to frighten them, despite the fact that they alone were unsettling enough.

"Two thousand one hundred and fifty four what exactly? You know what, it doesn't matter." Aji shook her head quickly. "It would be very kind of you to take me back to the village, thank you. I have a lot to think about, and I fear that I might faint on the way."

"Of course."

When they reached the village gate, however, rather than taking her leave, Aji put her hand in Renko's. Renko flinched slightly at the small hand's warmth.

"Actually..." Aji looked up at Renko. "If you wouldn't mind, could you come with me? I'd like to show you something."

Renko felt a strange sensation in her throat. "Well—"

"Exceptions are made all the time. Your case is especially compelling. Although it would probably be best if you hid those horns."

That wasn't the main reason. Nonetheless, a lame "I can't" posed little resistance, and Renko found herself being guided through the streets of the human village, to gasps and stares whenever they passed a group of humans (intermingled with slight bows to Aji). There was a prickling discomfort starting to build on the back of her neck.

The humans they passed usually felt safe here. She could tell. And yet, here they were, confronted by a youkai wandering around in broad daylight. None of them were willing to bring this up to Aji directly, of course; that would be painting a target on their backs in case she did something. The irony was that in whispering among themselves rather than speaking to her, they were only increasing their fear of her. And with that, increasing Renko's discomfort.

By the time they reached the Hieda estate, Renko was biting down hard on the inside of her own cheek without even noticing. When the gate closed behind them and the street disappeared from view, she audibly sighed with relief.

Aji looked up at her with a somewhat confused expression, which faded to a pleasant-seeming smile. "Ah, right. I apologize in advance. My servants don't often deal with youkai, so they may be a little alarmed by your presence."

Renko's relief disappeared.

However, it reappeared when, despite the fairly long walk to the room where Aji was bringing her, the pair of them didn't encounter a soul. When they stopped, Aji gestured to a pillow by the low table, and Renko, cross-legged, made herself comfortable.

Aji vanished into the next room over, saying she was grabbing something. Renko perused the books and papers haphazardly cluttering the table. The papers all seemed to be descriptions of various youkai personages, in various states of completion. The books, meanwhile, had a strange feeling, like they in and of themselves contained an entire ancient library apiece. When she opened one, though, it simply contained more descriptions of youkai. So this was the Gensoukyou Chronicle?

As she opened another, she felt a thrilling, warm sensation. It seemed odd at first— the book was no different from any of the others— but the sound of a sliding door behind her belied the source. She craned her neck to see a maid, head bowed, holding a tray bearing a teapot and snacks.

"Lady Aji, I have obtained refreshments for you and your guest, as—" The maid looked up, and her eyes widened slightly. "Ah. She is not here."

Renko nodded, her mouth clamped tightly shut.

"My apologies. I'll just—" The maid reached past Renko to place the tray on the only empty area of the table. Her hand brushed against Renko's, still holding open the book to its place. A jolt passed through Renko's mind, as if it was momentarily made of pure energy. She gripped the book more tightly.

There was a rustling, and Aji appeared from the next room, holding several aged-looking scrolls and one newer-looking one, with an odd seal on it. The maid swiftly bowed to her and exited the room. Aji set the scrolls down on the table and picked up a teacup.

"There." Aji nodded to Renko. "I've a collection of information on almost every type of youkai, but usually I have a chance to interview some members of the species before collecting it in a book. In your case, I haven't had the opportunity to interview a dragon— the only one I've met is not available for comment."

The seal on the newer-looking scroll, which Renko had thought was in the shape of a green-and-gold dragon, uncoiled itself, grew slightly in size, and walked across the table to help itself to a piece of wagashi. After taking the wagashi, it slid off the table and into Renko's lap, where it coiled itself once more.

Touching its scales and fur, Renko felt a prickling sensation that surprisingly wasn't uninviting.

"That one is the hermit Ibarakasen's." Aji nodded towards it. "Its name is Koutei, apparently. She offered its aid to me in my research endeavors, and it's certainly polite enough as she's trained it, but since it can't speak, it hasn't been much help."

"Help with what exactly?" Renko ran her fingers through Koutei's fur. It was silky, much more so than her own hair. "I've been in the outside world until recently, but I should have some information."

"Just a short interview about the contents of these scrolls. Rumors for you to confirm or deny, and things of that nature. Obviously, since you're a youkai, I won't be taking everything you have to say at face value, but enough stories add up to a truth." Aji took out a brush. "So! That one you're holding right now, written by the hermit Ibarakasen. How accurate is it?"

Renko took a look at the first line.

As we all know, dragons are gods revered both in Gensoukyou and the Outside World for their peaceful, temperate natures and their great wisdom.

"Well..."

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

—The Netherworld is never still.

Of course, the dead do not speak. But wind, nonetheless, finds its way through the cherry trees, blooming out of season. The phantoms themselves whisper around, pushing the cold, dark air out of their way, no doubt with the utmost meaning on their minds. And with this, even a rock garden in a world with no weather still weathers away.

The phantoms are not the only inhabitants that make a ruckus, though. Even before the boundary between this world and the next grew thin, the rocks' gardener and the gardener's gardener (or perhaps just another thing that the gardener had to garden) always found themselves in lively, though not living, conversation. Or, in the gardener's case, found themselves dragged into it.

But ever since one has been able to cross over from this world to the next just through a short flight, other visitors have turned the once-silent Pure Land into a land of bustle and clamor.

It was for one of those visitors' own sake that, today, the crackling of an oven could be heard in one of the great mansion's rooms, while from the other, teacups clacked against tables, and laughter echoed out to the veranda.

On her way to refill the teapot with hot water, Konpaku Youmu nearly tripped over an outstretched tail, but after catching herself in time to spill only a little of it on the floor, profusely apologized to the visitor before running back into the other room.

Listening with one ear, she returned to folding puff pastry.

"—And that's what has been bothering me."

The visitor's voice wasn't so much annoyed as it was resigned. Youmu realized that the story was over, and with a sigh, tuned it out.

Yuyuko, in the other room, nodded attentively, however.

"Oh, I see. So you didn't come to visit just because you liked my company?"

"If I didn't like your company, I wouldn't ask you for advice." Renko wrinkled her nose. "I do have to say that the tea was better last time. It's too bitter."

"Well, I did have to try, at least." Yuyuko smiled. "You know, Youmu always feels like people are leaving her out of things, too. When she was younger, she used to complain about it all the time, but now, she just pretends to know what's going on..."

"You're not going to give me any advice on it? After I came all this way to see you?" Renko's hand, holding her open notebook, went to her forehead. "And here I thought that someone who's known and trusted her for as long as you have might have some ideas."

"What advice would you like?" A yawn.

"I feel like..." Renko's tail flicked from side to side. "I don't know. It's like there's something bigger than me that everyone else knows about and I don't. I feel like a brand-new synchrotron that everyone's bargaining over use of, but they haven't had the decency to inform me of what they're going to be looking for. I thought it was just the youkai at first— Kasen, and that tengu, too— but then there was that girl from the village, Aji was her name, who got all weird about it, too."

"You should have some more youkan."

"Not right now, thanks. It wouldn't be so much of a problem if Yukari told me anything about it, but she's always been so opaque, even when we were in university together. She's worse now, maybe, but it doesn't really matter either way. I'm just tired of reading scroll after scroll of dragon legends. Wonderful stories, honestly, but I'm not involved with any of that. I'm just me, you know?"

She gestured towards the sky above the rock garden.

"In a place like this where I can't see the stars and the moon isn't out, I don't have any special abilities. I'm the most generic youkai on Earth, besides my bauplan. Does it even make sense to call me a dragon?"

"It's classic for youkai to wonder about their reason for being." Yuyuko sipped her tea. "You have an abstract one, I think. So it seems like everyone is trying to make it more concrete."

"How so?"

"The gift Yukari gave you, for instance. The one that you came here worrying over."

"The— right." Renko inclined her head, hiding her face entirely behind her notebook. "I came here originally hoping to meet her, but forgot that it hasn't been forty days yet."

"Even if it had, these little ones don't speak." Yuyuko petted a phantom that had curled itself around her wrist. "And that one wouldn't want to speak to you, would she? But that gift— what do you think would have happened if you hadn't accepted it?"

"Well, Yukari would have killed her, probably." Renko peeked out from above her notebook. "It wouldn't have made much of a difference at all."

"Wouldn't it?" Yuyuko extended her hand towards Renko. The phantom, curled around it, recoiled back, away from her.

"I still would have been responsible for her death, no? It's not as if I had abstained from eating that meat beforehand. Morally, it's hard to argue that there's a difference." Renko leaned on her other hand. "It feels strange, but emotions are just that. Even if thoughts can become reality, before that, they're just thoughts. Foam on the water's surface."

"In the realm of objects, maybe."

"That's the realm we inhabit. The reason that I don't feel any guilt over it— and the reason why it feels odd that I don't feel any guilt— those are emergent properties of how my mind works. While it doesn't follow the physical laws that I know, this world does follow a type of logic. If the consumption of a human body that died of natural causes is enough to turn a wolf into a youkai, it doesn't follow that where the flesh comes from has any extreme significance."

"You'd make a terrible poet."

"That's so."

"Even if your actions don't affect anything in the moment, they affect how you see yourself, don't they?"

"Everyone's do that."

"And you'll act in ways that match with the way you see yourself, won't you?" Yuyuko folded her hands primly. "Even around others."

"Well, yes, but— oh, I see." Renko closed one eye.

"Not as well in that state, I'd suspect."

"Oh, shush. If my self-perception affects my actions, and my actions around human beings affect their perception of me, and their perception of me affects the world, then my self-perception affects the world. Roughly." Renko nodded. "So that's why everyone's acting so strangely even though I'm nothing special. Precisely because I'm nothing special, actually. And because dragons haven't been seen around here for so long, everyone's built up their own ideas of what they want a dragon to be. And they all want me to become the symbol they've dreamed up in their heads."

Yuyuko looked at her quizzically. "Something like that, maybe."

"Of course this doesn't tell me what they actually want, but it explains why they want it, which helps a lot." Renko called over her shoulder. "More hot water, please, Youmu."

"Just a minute! I'm bringing out the mille-feuille now, but afterwards I'll get you some more."

Youmu emerged from the kitchen, bearing a lacquered tray holding both the sweet and a generous helping of sliced strawberries. She set it down in the center of the table, after carefully evading Renko's long tail, and placed two dishes holding slices and forks in front of the two occupants.

Renko took a bite. "This custard is really rich."

"Really? I asked Youmu to make it a little thinner than normal..." Yuyuko took a piece of strawberry.

"Artificial egg replicates the proteins with minimal error. But people are worried about the fat content in their food nowadays, so it's different in texture. It's still been hard to get used to real eggs. And real meat... Maybe that's why the adjustment hasn't been so difficult. After all, everything I eat here is different from what I'm used to, what's one extra layer on top?"

"That's true. It would be difficult to tell the difference between a mille-feuille and a neuf-cent-quatre-vingt-dix-neuf-feuille. You'd have to peel it apart so carefully..."

"And it would be hard to make sure you weren't breaking the layers as you peeled. Especially once it's been cooked."

"It would take a long time." Yuyuko took a bite. "Hmm, I don't think the almonds add to it too much."

"It's a shame I'm so impatient. I'd at least like to know what the contents of that last layer are."

"Well, if it's the last layer, surely it contains the garnishes too, doesn't it? The pâtissier's chosen them because she thinks that they'll be an attractive introduction to the dish."

"On the other hand, if the last layer is the one closest to the custard, doesn't it also contain the unfamiliar? Or at least the slightly so. If one didn't recognize that this was a dish that contains egg, would a person from the outside world even know that there was egg in it?"

"I think that she'd rather you enjoy the dish without thinking too much about it." Yuyuko sipped some tea. "If you ask about all the flavors, surely you're casting aspersions on the whole."

"Does she make you dishes like this, too?" Renko leaned her body onto the table. "It's so tiring."

"She does." Yuyuko smiled. "Often. She doesn't know any other way to cook, you know."

"I wish she'd let me collaborate on the menu a bit."

"Really? But she's picked out all your favorites..." Yuyuko helped herself to another piece of mille-feuille. "Not that she intends to serve them for a long time."

"And she's not going to let me see it until she does serve them, will she?"

"Of course not. Even beyond that, she has such unfortunate tendencies... She'll be serving you shaved ice in autumn, because she spent all summer learning to make it perfectly."

"That sounds like Merry, all right." Renko laughed.

"At the same time, she certainly knows your favorite food, even if you don't. Why, she served me sakuramochi long ago, when I had thought I'd given up on the flavor of anything at all. Even if she doesn't think that I remember it, and doesn't want me to remember it, because she thinks that I'll begin to dislike her cooking, or return to my apathy towards flavor."

"Somehow, I can't imagine you doing that." Renko watched as Yuyuko took a third piece of mille-feuille. "My favorite food... you're right that I'm not sure of it."

"She does keep making you dishes that are popular in the outside world, doesn't she?"

"She does." Renko folded her hands together and stretched them out.

"On another note entirely, do you know about the speed of light?"

"I'm a physicist."

"Right, right! Yukari explained it to me a while back, though. Apparently light has some kind of speed limit built in, even though it looks like it goes places instantly."

"It's about 3 × 10⁸ meters per second. So, in a normal house, it would look instant. Even to get to the sun and back, it's only about 16 minutes."

"Isn't it interesting how it mirrors 108? But yes, there's an inherent limitation on it. Or something like that. That's what she said."

"There are people in Gensoukyou who break it regularly with little consequence, though." Renko shrugged. "It's one of those pesky four-law rules. Like thermodynamics. Maxwell would throw an absolute fit if he met Yukari."

"Right, in Gensoukyou. And here, and other otherworlds." Yuyuko yawned again.

"Because there isn't so much belief in the absolute mundanity of things poisoning the water."

"That's true. You'd have to change hearts and minds to see it happen anywhere else."

"And there's only so much one person can do in the face of overwhelming opposition." Renko slapped the cover of her notebook. "Not that I don't want to try, but I barely understand anything myself."

"One person, exactly." A phantom had landed on Yuyuko's hat, and she was leaning to one side so as to provide it a better perch. "But what about a bird flapping its wings? I've heard that when a butterfly flaps its wings, it could cause a hurricane on the other side of the world. A bird should do so even more often, shouldn't it?"

"We don't know that it does or doesn't, if we can't model the initial conditions." Renko finished her mille-feuille. "But that would make sense, physically; the vortices and pressure differentials would both be larger."

"Even if the bird doesn't know, it might as well try, no? To flap its wings a bit, if it wishes for a hurricane."

"It might as well." Renko stood. "Thank you for the mille-feuille. And the conversation. Can you try lead acetate next time, though? Or serve coffee instead. I like my teas less bitter."

"That would take too long, and I'm not sure where I'd find any in the first place. I'll try my best not to ruin the flavor again, at any rate. It was nice to have you visit!" Yuyuko had followed her to the entryway. "Come by again and tell me how your conversation with Yukari goes. I'd like to hear about it."

"Sure. Good morning, Yuyuko."

"Good morning!"

The Netherworld is never still. But in the early morning sunlight after a visitor departs, a sense of calm washes over the place, as it becomes a pure land once again. Life may persist after death, but it's never so exciting as even the most trivial business of those who still occupy the world of the living. Of course, the thing with the world of the living is that no-one knows whether any piece of business is trivial or not. At least, no-one who lacks a perfect map of reality in their mind does.

And that is what is so fascinating about it in the minds of those whose existences will remain trivialities until they are finally reborn.

Chapter 16

Chapter Text

"Absolutely not. Are you insane?"

"Remind me which of us ended up in the Shinshuu—"

Yukari flicked Renko in the middle of her forehead. "Shut up, delusion. What I mean is that at the stage of life that you are in, it would be a ridiculously poor idea."

"I think that you're overestimating the impact that just a few days' time would have." Renko reached up from her place in Yukari's lap to fiddle with a strand of her hair. "And your birthday's coming up. Don't you want to go somewhere special for it?"

Yukari blinked. "My birthday? That's not really important, is it?"

"It is to me!" Renko batted at her face without really being able to reach it.

Yukari looked down the bridge of her nose at Renko. "Well, I suppose it's not particularly unusual for young youkai to get excited about this sort of thing, compared to humans. I don't remember the exact date that it falls on, even. Though I still have my passport somewhere, I think?"

"Really?"

"Is what surprises you my organization or my forgetfulness? Well, it doesn't matter. You can surprise me, if you'd like, though good luck finding out my age to the year. But I can visit the outside world whenever I like. It's not a special occasion."

"Then why can't I?" Renko frowned up at her.

"Because I prefer you existing rather than not. This is the third time we've had this conversation, and my answer has been the same each time." Yukari ruffled Renko's bangs. "You have more time ahead of you than you can conceptualize at this point. Why don't you ask me again next year?"

Precisely because she couldn't conceptualize that time. It was all well and good to say that the years stretched ahead of her innumerably, but what did that really mean for the her that had lived for well under thirty so far? Human beings would say they had all the time in the world, but everyone's life ended before 140 anyway. And immortality didn't mean invulnerability; otherwise, the term "extermination" would always have been meaningless. There would always be more to do than she ever had time for, so for something like this, it was only natural to be impatient.

Of course, the importance of the timing wasn't something as trivial as a birthday, though it would be nice to be able to celebrate that which was so rarely celebrated. But it would be pointless to explain that.

"I don't wanna." Renko swiped at Yukari's hand, but Yukari pulled it out of the way just in time. "Do I need a well-thought-out excuse? I want to do the things that I want to do."

Yukari looked at her thoughtfully. "You don't. But in turn, I don't need an excuse to tell you that I'm not helping you. If you'd like to visit the outside world, you'll have to find your own methods. Or wait for me to feel confident enough in you."

"And if I want you to visit with me?" Renko sat up. "That's half the point."

"Well, I'm afraid you'll have to knock me unconscious for that." Yukari laughed. "Actually, let's go with that. If you can beat me in a spell card duel, I'll let you take me on a trip to the outside world. Bonus points if you can knock me out for a few seconds."

—

—Of course, that hadn't happened.

Renko hadn't been wounded in anything besides her pride, but it still stung. It wasn't really fair for Yukari to extend an offer she had no intention of fulfilling, rather than point-blank shooting Renko down, but she had been insistent enough that it made sense.

On the other hand, if Yukari had been a little more flexible on the idea, Renko wouldn't be walking here on her lonesome right now. Aji's books held plenty of useful information, and the human girl seemed to be overjoyed that anyone wanted to read them at all, even if that someone was a youkai. That was how she'd learned about the hill where sorrowful violet cherry blossoms bloomed in the spring. And the path that led there, where the barrier between this world and the worlds beyond wore thin.

It wasn't much of a path right now, though. Not any more than the C1 expressway was, back in Tokyo. The same unusual flowers, lacking leaves to frame their red petals, were blooming in the crisp early autumn atmosphere, blanketing the ground. The only way that one could tell that there was a path at all was that the trees parted in a straight line, rather than clumping around haphazard circular clearings.

Renko wrinkled her nose as she trod upon the flower stalks. The bitter lycorine filled the air. After her visit with Yuyuko, it didn't worry her much—immunity to one alkaloid was immunity to another. Or something. She'd passed her one required chemistry course and promptly forgotten everything about it.

Her foot, landing on something that was decidedly not a flower stalk, made a loud crunching noise. She looked down.

Phone screen. It was probably going to leach all kinds of lead from the quantum dots into the environment now.

The thought that someone had probably dropped it while fleeing for their life gave it more of a sense of memento mori than the bone she'd expected to see. It had landed in a good place for it, too; the spider lilies weren't growing too thickly, so even though it was half buried in mud, the shine of it was easy to distinguish.

Honestly, the thinness of the spider lilies was a little concerning. Renko wasn't sure that there were that many bad things in phones, that even plants wouldn't grow around them. It was almost as if, rather than in Gensoukyou, she was in a place where every living thing besides humans was struggling to survive. There was a stabbing pain in the middle of her forehead, too, and she felt groggy, as if she had a hangover.

Renko looked up.

Sparkling far below her was the starry sky, fading by the moment into the grey of early morning. She felt her knees give out as her mind told her 4:23:18 AM, and her hands hit the thankfully still solid ground below her. Shards of glass nibbled at her hand, but didn't manage to make their way in. In her left ear, she heard a sound. One of the village's cows lowing? But how would they have gotten this far into the woods without eating something toxic, or without an enterprising someone eating them?

She realized what it was.

The ground began to shake, and she stood, carefully. She saw trees ahead, without leaves or branches. A light, illuminating one of them, changed from green to yellow. Then the rest of them were illuminated in a glaring white. She grabbed onto her hat. The cargo train thundered past, its horn sounding again for good measure.

Renko waited for the signal to turn green again before crossing the tracks. The lake with the stars reflected in it she'd seen initially was entirely grey now, reflecting the autumn sky. The stars themselves weren't entirely gone, though. Next to the lake, the shore was littered with them. They didn't tell her anything, though. Because they weren't seated in the heavens at all.

The thin slice of the moon that remained in the sky told her why. This was the city of Suwa. In the world of humankind. The train line she'd crossed was probably the cargo extension of the old Chuo line that had been built back when the automobile had begun to lose favor with the general public. Ahead of her was the lake shore and the first sight of something built entirely by human hands she'd had in half a year. She just hoped that the bank hadn't declared her deceased yet.

And her headache wasn't going away, either.

As dawn broke, she walked aimlessly downhill through residential neighborhoods. She'd come here for two reasons, neither of which was possible at five in the morning. The first reason: If Yukari wouldn't come with Renko for her birthday celebration, Renko would just have to get her a gift here, to prove that she could.

The second reason was a little more far-fetched, but she wanted to try it anyway. Swallowstone Naturalis Historia had gotten enough circulation that if she could find somewhere that was as receptive to so-called pseudoscience as the Old Adam Bar was in this place, they might be willing to see her as a true mysterious phenomenon. And if she could manage that, then she could convince Yukari that hearts and minds could be changed. That they weren't doomed to live in a separate world until the heavens themselves turned.

She crossed the bridge over the passenger rail line, and looked down at the single overgrown set of tracks. There were two stations at about an equal distance from this point. If she wanted, she could get on the train. It would take her through Chino, then Hokuto, then Kofu. Then, it would take her to Tokyo.

People were waiting for her there. It would probably be easier to find somewhere willing to give her the time of day in a city returning to childishness, too. And it would certainly be easier to pick out a gift in a place that wasn't yet fully hollowed out by time.

She couldn't find it in herself to care, though.

It might have been a little hypocritical of her, trying to connect to this world but having no interest in her most concrete connections to it. But just because the Earth always reaches the same positions in its orbit year after year doesn't mean that it's capable of reversing course. Rebuilding a house after an earthquake has never involved gluing the broken planks back together. They'd be just as structurally unsound as they were in the first place.

Renko turned away from the train line and proceeded towards the lake. The grey of the sky had started to turn to pinkish gold. Her headache was worsening, but the sight made her smile.

She heard the chime of a bicycle bell, and dodged to the left to the squealing of poorly-maintained brakes. The cyclist— a young man wearing a deliveryman's uniform— jumped off his bike. Renko caught the scent of fresh steamed baozi. Probably his cargo.

In lieu of an introduction, he pointed above Renko's head. "Are those real?"

She flinched. In her dazed state, it took her a few moments to reply. "...Yeah?"

"The tail, too?"

"Yeah." Renko wrapped it around her ankles.

"I didn't know that was still legal here. Where did you get them done?"

"...Kyoto."

"Huh! The more you know. Well, they're really cool. Hope to see you around!"

With that, he took off. Renko's tail had started tingling as soon as he'd mentioned it, and her head was pounding. She ducked into a nearby convenience store, hoping that maybe some food would make her feel a little better. It was early enough that if her bank had cut her off, the police probably wouldn't be able to catch her shoplifting.

Thankfully, apart from the clerk with her cheery "Welcome!", there was no one else there. She ignored the staring, grabbed a yogurt parfait and a canned coffee, and walked up to the self-checkout register. Taking a deep breath, she scanned her items, then pulled out her phone.

Processing... Transaction complete.

It seemed like she hadn't been cut off after all. With a nod to the clerk, she headed out. She'd seen a temple on her way here. It might be a nice place to eat.

It was a fairly downtrodden-looking place. Though there was a great old cherry tree crowning it, resilient despite the world's best attempts, the temple grounds had been paved in asphalt, and there were nearly a dozen signs begging visitors not to litter.

Despite this, as soon as she stepped onto the miserable, asphalt-covered plaza, her headache seemed to dissipate a bit. She sat on the temple steps, cracked open her coffee, and started to eat her breakfast.

When she was done, her headache had returned, worse than ever. The sun was fairly high in the sky now. It was past eight— shops would be opening soon. She'd be able to get something for Yukari, then return home. Maybe if her head felt a little better, she'd try to do something else. But for now, she'd just get something nice, then return to where those spider lilies were blooming.

That was what she had thought, anyway. But as she walked down the street, stares following her and tail dragging behind her, it was getting hard to think. Maybe she'd just not had enough to eat. Whatever the case was, she found herself unable to even consider what Yukari might want outside the vaguest idea of "something nice". Whatever the case might have been, she found herself inside a jewelery shop.

Besides a raised eyebrow, the attendant made no mention of her appearance, and simply asked her why she was there. Explaining that she was searching for a birthday gift immediately cheered the woman up, though, and she began asking fairly pleasant questions. Renko had checked her bank account balance previously; it wouldn't be enough to purchase anything ridiculously extravagant, but it wasn't like she needed it for anything else.

Discussing Yukari's likes and dislikes, the clothes she liked to wear, her appearance, and all such things cheered Renko immensely. She felt as if she was physically recovering by explaining Yukari's gaudy fashion sense, her favorite colors, and Renko's desire to get her something unique.

After some back-and-forth— Renko had liked a bracelet, but realized that gloves made it superfluous— they finally decided on a barrette with an etched glass and gold floral design. Though Yukari didn't wear her hair up terribly often, when she did it had a tendency to mount escape attempts. Hopefully, something like this would last for a few decades. The saleswoman had said it would probably last the rest of Yukari's life, and Renko had laughed politely before paying.

As soon as she stepped outside, though, it hit her. The pounding in her head returned. And not just that, there was a pain in her chest. She clutched at it, a feeling of panic rising. She was being stared at. She had to leave.

Renko ran, holding her gift tightly to her chest. Her tail stretched out behind her like a ribbon for balance. She didn't care what she looked like now, she just had to find somewhere that she could rest away from prying eyes. Her chest felt pinched. She could feel her heart pounding, so at least it hadn't yet given up the ghost. She ducked onto a back street and kept running. It was hard to see— was she crying? Why was she crying?

She dove into an alleyway, then fell. Her legs didn't seem to be working correctly. She sat up against a wall, breathing heavily. There were dark spots fading in and out of her vision.

With perfect clarity, she realized it.

"Oh. I'm dying."

Not physically, of course. She was still in fine health— her heart had slowed and the pain had faded enough for her to realize that. If she were still human, her symptoms would be what doctors referred to as psychosomatic. The subconscious mind realizing something was very, very wrong, but having no way of expressing it to the conscious mind outside of dreadful physical symptoms.

However, for beings whose very existences revolve around the mind, a psychosomatic illness is far more grave than a physical one. It's an indication of damage to the spirit, something that, in their case, cannot easily be recovered from. Various types of this damage exist, of course— "you're weak", "you've been cursed", "you will never be happy again"— but the type affecting Renko was the simplest, and also the most lethal.

"You don't exist."

Even the most credulous human wouldn't believe things-that-aren't-quite-human exist just from seeing one walking down the street. Many want to believe such a thing, of course. Some of them might even alter their behavior for a while as if they do believe it. But simple, mundane belief— treating such things as "facts of the world"— is vanishingly rare.

Renko had made a crucial error in conflating the desire for belief and true belief. She realized this now, of course, but even if she wanted to do something about it, she couldn't. She tried to stand, but could barely move. "Things that don't exist" don't interact with the world, after all.

It wasn't fair. She'd been given another chance to live alongside Merry, even after losing her once. But she'd just had to go and throw that away for her own stupid pride, and Merry wouldn't even know what happened to her. From Merry's perspective, it would be as if she'd vanished without a trace.

She laughed bitterly. A taste of her own medicine, maybe. Not that either of them deserved it.

Renko looked down the alleyway. On the street, human beings were coming and going, but their forms were fuzzy. None of them looked over at her. The eaves above her were fuzzy, too. It felt like their forms were constantly shifting, and they were casting too-deep shadows. Only the sky above was clear. It was 8:47:33 AM.

She sighed, and sat still, looking aimlessly down the alleyway. The shadows were darker than usual, but it was probably her fading vision. She looked down at her hands, sitting in the shadows on the pavement. At least they still looked intact. Though maybe only to her.

Shadows on the pavement? Where she was sitting had been in sunlight just a few moments ago. Her vision was fading faster than she expected. She blinked. Instead of fading, the hallucinated shadows simply spread.

The form of the door across from her was growing flimsy, too. It was a door, and yet not a door. Observation by something that wasn't really something might do that, she thought. She'd have to write about it when she got home. But she wished the shadows would stop staring at her. Didn't they know that her getting stared at had gotten her into this predicament in the first place? It wasn't fair.

She felt a jolt. The shadows were staring at her. They had eyes. Or, that is to say, what was in them had eyes. And they were looking at her.

The shadows pooled together, moving towards the space just in front of her. Then, the pool of shadow drew itself to its full height and stood. Its form was that of a woman— one who felt oh so familiar— but it lacked any features, instead appearing as an infinite empty void filled with layer upon unending layer of eyes.

It reached towards Renko. Her vision flickered for a moment, and what had been void was now a hand, extended towards her in salvation. It took Renko's pale, clammy right hand in its own. It was warm.

Tears were flowing freely from Renko's eyes now. She half-leaned, half-fell towards the emptiness. It made a soft noise of surprise.

"I got—" Renko realized how weak her voice sounded. "I got you a birthday present."

"Please don't exert yourself too much." It said, though Renko did not know how, from its lack of a mouth, it managed it. It wrapped a second arm around her. "I'm so sorry."

"You're sorry? I should be the sorry one. You had to come all the way here to rescue me, and you got hurt yourself, too. I'm so stupid." Renko rested her weight on the formless form.

"Hurt myself?" It said, inquisitively.

"You look like this because you got hurt, right?" Renko patted what appeared to be its shoulder. "I'm sorry."

It seemed to shake its head. "Not at all. I look like this because you were hurt. Because you've been torn so roughly from reality. However, that's a discussion for when you're not fading from existence. Let's go home, Renko."

In Yukari's arms, Renko fell forwards into comforting absurdity.

Chapter 17

Chapter Text

"Good morning."

The phrase was more of a question than a statement, almost a plea. Nonetheless, the voice that spoke it was gentle, as if it didn't wish to disturb. And it was nearby...

Renko blearily opened her eyes. She tried to rub the sleepiness away, but her arms felt heavy, as if they couldn't reach. She looked up. Next to her, a great pile of violet cloth shifted slightly, and she heard a gasp.

"Oh, thank goodness." A white-gloved hand reached out from above and stroked her forehead. "I was afraid that you would never wake up. How are you feeling?"

Renko tried to speak, but found her throat felt dry. She croaked out a few words. "Yukari... morning."

"You don't need to speak if it's too difficult for you. I know that form must be taking some getting used to." Another pat on the head.

Renko looked up, wrinkling her nose. "What?"

"You shouldn't worry about it, though. I think I told you once that form holds no meaning in this world, didn't I?" Yukari smiled. "Once you recover, you should easily be able to return to your original shape. Though if you'd like to speed it up, I can always ask Ran to give you a few tips?"

For the first time since she'd awakened, Renko looked down, at her hands.

Or rather, at her not-hands. At her talons. Covered in milky-white scales, tangled in the kakebuton. (Those would be the weight she'd felt.) Below them, the rest of her body, covered in the same scales, was coiled in a loose spiral.

She looked around frantically. "Yukari. Mirror?"

Yukari produced one. Renko stared into it.

"I look like a catfish." She said.

Yukari giggled. "What, just because of the whiskers? They're meant to represent your wisdom, aren't they? And besides, you look cute. Like you just jumped off of a piece of porcelain."

"Red's more my color than blue."

"With that level of saturation, you'd be peach-pink. Is that your color?"

Renko shook her head. It was strange to see it move back and forth in the mirror. "Not really. Hey, if dragons are based on reptiles, why do they have noses like cats' or dogs'?"

"They?" Yukari raised an eyebrow.

"Why do we."

"I haven't the faintest idea." Yukari set down the mirror before gesturing to the floor beside her. On it, a covered tray was resting. "On a different note, I brought you some food to help with your recovery on the off chance that you'd awakened. Ran's been making nothing but gyoza for almost a week, you know? She says that the folding calms her. Hopefully now that you're awake she'll pick something else for a change."

So that was where the scent of garlic had been coming from. "I'd love to, but..." Renko gestured with her claws. "Three fingers."

"Hmm." Yukari nodded. "All right then, say aah."

Renko obliged, and Yukari placed a piece of gyoza in her mouth. Before she realized it, she'd swallowed it without chewing. Yukari gave her another.

In a few minutes, she'd cleaned the entire tray. She gave a satisfied sigh.

"Well, at least you're not tired of it." Yukari smiled appreciatively.

"And you didn't dip your hair in the sauce." Renko rested her head on the rest of her body, grinning. "That's always unusual."

"Oh, that's because—" Yukari pointed to her hair, which was pinned up behind her. "—Of this." She turned to the side, exposing the nape of her neck and the familiar barrette, placed up high on the back of her head. "I hope you don't mind me wearing it so early. I wasn't sure when you'd wake up..." Her voice grew a little tight.

Renko frowned and opened her mouth to say something.

"Well!" Yukari cut in cheerfully before she could. "You have now, so I don't need to worry about that. You can wrap it back up, if you'd like."

"...It's fine." The memories were coming back to her. "I'm sorry."

Yukari shook her head. "It's my fault, if anything. I noticed that your presence had disappeared from Gensoukyou, but I assumed you'd return in a few minutes when you realized... and then a few minutes turned into a few hours, and I found you on the brink of nonexistence. I'm entirely to blame here."

"Well, if it's your fault, then get me something to apologize!" Renko growled. "You've made me into an invalid, you know?" She grinned. "But still. Thanks for rescuing me."

Yukari smirked. "I'll get you something to apologize when you're up and about again. You can't expect something for nothing, you know? I am a youkai."

Renko huffed in feigned scorn and curled up.

Yukari ran a hand down her spine. "Still. I hope you understand why I was so hesitant to bring you out of Gensoukyou now."

"Why can you go out there without anything bad happening to you?" Renko groused. She wasn't really expecting an answer, so it surprised her when Yukari replied seriously.

"Because I'm far older than you."

Renko was about to snap that she didn't want to hear about life experience right now when Yukari continued.

"Legends about me have had longer to accumulate, you know? So naturally, they'll take longer to dissipate, too. Add to that that I'm a fear so representative of the era, even if not personified, and I'd be able to spend uninterrupted years in the outside world without harm. As for you, you're not even aware of what you act as a personification of, and few humans even here have any idea you exist. An existence like yours is fragile, easy to erase. But it won't always be." Yukari leaned onto her. "You know that already, don't you?"

"If it doesn't harm you to be out there, why did you look like that when you rescued me?" Renko headbutted her. "You don't have to pretend to be unaffected by it."

"I'm still not sure what you mean by 'like that'." Yukari said, with some amusem*nt. "To myself, I just looked exactly as I usually do. Though I have some suspicions."

"You looked like... er... one of your gaps. But shaped like you usually are." Renko tucked her nose into her coils awkwardly. "I wasn't seeing very well though."

Yukari cupped her chin in her hands. "Well, was I still cute?"

"Sure?"

"Aww, I wish you'd be a little more enthusiastic..." Yukari yawned. "But that's not really surprising to hear. There's no point in delineating whether we youkai have true forms or anything like that... even for the foxes and tanuki, when they take the shape of an animal, it's almost never the same as the original. However, fundamentally, we are 'ideas that exist in the realm of physical things'. The idea that I am is a little difficult to define concisely, but it's useful enough to just call it 'the fear of the boundaries that delineate all things'. That is what my gaps are, of course. But that's also what I, as a being that exists in some fashion, am."

"You're talking like you're speaking to another professor when I'm a brand-new undergraduate."

Yukari laughed. "What I mean to say is that I'm essentially just another one of my gaps. And my gaps are just more of me."

"So, the fact that you look like Merry is just—" There was horror in Renko's voice.

"Not at all!" Yukari shook her head quickly. "My boundaries contain everything that does not exist within the dichotomies that humans create. Maerieberie Hearn— that is to say, me, the mind that controls these boundaries— was defined as a being outside of those dichotomies. That I look similarly to how I did when we met is no more of a falsehood than it was then."

"Oh." Renko exhaled.

"Look at yourself now. In what way do you resemble Usami Renko, as of a year ago?" Yukari poked her in the forehead.

"Well. I don't." Renko said in a small voice.

"Yet nonetheless, you are her. And however you change over the years, you will still be her. No less than any human is themselves from the day prior."

"I guess that one way to solve the riddle of the Ship of Theseus is just to ask the ship its own thoughts on it. So this isn't my true form, then?"

"Like I said, no form has more meaning than any other. This is the easiest way for you to understand the idea that you express right now. And the me that you saw was the easiest way for you to understand the idea that I express. But ultimately—" Yukari clapped her hands together— "We are the signified, not the signifier."

"I've never been any good at linguistics."

"You have all the time in the world to learn, Renko."

A few days had passed since then, with Renko continuing to sleep for almost the entire day and night, and Yukari coming by in the evenings to bring her meals and chat for a bit. Ran had stopped by once in a while for a brief hello before wheeling off to whatever work she had to do.

Today, though, Renko opened her eyes without first hearing a greeting, and looked around. The curtains had been opened, but she couldn't quite see the sky from the bed. Clumsily, she uncoiled herself and slunk her way onto the sill. The stars had been out for a while. 7:10:30 exactly.

She walked back across the room and carefully stood on her hind legs, trying to slide open the door. Her short legs just couldn't manage enough control of the torque, however, and she eventually resorted to nudging it open with her snout rather than risk tearing the paper (or destroying the door entirely.)

When she entered the hallway, she heard the soft sounds of conversation coming from the living room. As she proceeded towards them, she identified one voice which was familiar— Yukari's— and one which she couldn't identify.

This time, she managed to open the door with her talons, as she heard Yukari's giggle.

The unfamiliar voice gave a small gasp.

Renko, still balanced on her hind legs, looked around. The television in the corner was on, unusually, and playing some old late 21st century movie. The table was stacked with even more books than normal— Yukari had needed some way of occupying herself when alone, of course. But most unusually of all, on the other side of the table, with a steaming hot mug of something that smelled sweet in front of her, wrapped in a thick blanket, was a girl with freckles that stood out on skin as pale as a corpse's and with soaking wet hair.

That girl was staring at Renko with her mouth open like a fish.

Yukari, sitting across the table from the girl with her head turned over her shoulder, waved her over. "Good morning, Renko."

Renko, dumbfounded, coiled up to a place at the table between the two of them. The girl, having tried as hard as she could to avoid staring, now blurted out:

"Can I touch her tail?"

Yukari laughed out loud. "Why don't you ask her yourself? She is sapient, you know."

Renko looked at her disapprovingly. It would have been fun to be able to listen in on the conversation without the girl realizing that she was present for it.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Miss Renko, can I please touch your tail?"

Renko obligingly moved a bit closer to her and extended the tuft at the end of her tail. Tentatively, the girl reached out and touched it. The confusion Renko had held earlier melted away as she did— this was definitely a human after all, from the decided lack of conviction in her grip. Her failure to instantly identify her was probably an artifact of her recovery.

"Wow! Even though you've got scales, it's so fluffy..." The girl sighed. She looked across the table towards Yukari. "You know, I didn't believe you at first when you said that you weren't human. But you've even got a pet dragon... This place is so nice."

"Even after I fished you out of the river rapids and brought you all the way here?" Yukari tilted her head to the side. "And healed your injuries, too. You had lost quite a lot of blood by the time I found you, and your lungs were filling up with water. Even for me, that was no easy feat."

"I don't know. I felt like... like nobody would ever accept me. I had just been rejected, time and again... Even the people who I thought were strange thought that I was too weird, too offputting. I didn't really think that you were real to begin with. I thought I'd just washed ashore by some miracle, and that I'd have to just keep going in my miserable life. I didn't think there was a way out, besides dying."

Yukari sighed sympathetically. "I'm sure that must have been very lonely. You must have been so afraid."

The girl began to tear up. "I mean. I wasn't, not really. At least I wasn't at first. I—" She wiped her nose with the corner of the blanket. "At first I was angry. I thought that if I could get people to understand my point of view, that there were things beyond just what they'd slotted into their categories, that I'd be okay, and that they were just being willfully ignorant. I believed this for years, all the way until university, but nothing ever changed. So I thought hey, maybe if I moved somewhere else, people would listen to me more. Maybe it wasn't me that was wrong, maybe I just had to find the right people. But I came here, and nobody wanted to try and understand, either. And I kept trying. I spent two years of university trying. But it was like I didn't exist!" She was crying now.

"It's all right." Yukari extended a hand across the table and laid it on hers. "You're not alone any more. I promise."

"But don't you see? I thought I was!" She shouted. "I thought I was, and I— I—" Another sob. She was gripping Renko's tail tightly enough for it to hurt a bit.

"And you threw yourself off a bridge into an icy, rocky river in November." Yukari said bluntly.

"I did." Her body shook with sobs. "But you saved me. If you hadn't been there right then, I would have died believing that I'd been rejected by everyone and everything."

"That's true." Yukari nodded. "Did you want to die because you felt like you'd been rejected?"

The girl nodded. "Because the world rejected me. But that's not the only world, is it?"

"It's not." Yukari glanced at the television. "There are as many worlds as there are stories."

"And you gave me a chance to start my life over in another one." The girl smiled slightly. "I can't thank you enough."

"Of course."

"I know it's not like I'll automatically be accepted here or anything, and I know I'll have to work hard, but how did you describe it again? A place where dreams can be made into reality? It makes me feel warm inside."

"Are you sure that's not the hot chocolate?"

The girl laughed. "I'm sure! I just want to say thank you. As many times as I can."

Yukari yawned. "Please don't mention it. Really, it was simple selfishness on my part. Most humans I would have just watched wash away with the current. But you..."

"But me?"

"Well, you just remind me a lot of myself." Yukari smiled.

"How so?" The girl finished her hot chocolate and set the cup down.

"I was human once. A long time ago. But I, too, felt like I was living in a world that rejected my very being, that could never understand me. That I could never find happiness in." Yukari sighed, a long, long sigh. "I was right. As I probed the boundaries of that world, looking for a way that I could fit as a piece of it, one day, it rejected me entirely. And I ceased to be human."

"Oh..." The girl said quietly. "I know it's intrusive to ask, but did you ever—"

"I didn't succeed." Yukari folded her hands on the table. "Anyway. As for yourself, right now, you are standing on that boundary. That is why I saved you."

"I'm on the verge of not being human?" Said with incredulity, and then a halfhearted laugh. "Well, I mean, of course I am. It's not like I was allowed to be anything else, I guess."

That was why Renko hadn't been sure of what the girl had been initially. She was human, but barely. Something had affected her, dragging her towards the border of inhumanity, and now here she was. But... She also didn't feel like a youkai. Maybe a god? Or maybe it was best for Renko not to try and guess without more information. She nuzzled up to her, feeling that maybe that would help her understand.

"Indeed." Yukari's voice was measured, flat. "At this point, you have three choices. Either you can return to humanity, transcend it immediately, or continue living as you are and see which direction your new life takes you. Under no circ*mstances will you have to return to your previous life, of course, unless you want to. This world accepts humans, too."

Renko thought about how long Yukari had demurred on her own fervent desire to become a youkai, and felt a pang of jealousy. She hadn't even mentioned the new way of living that it required yet. It wasn't fair that Renko had had to try so hard and Yukari was just extending this offer to a human she'd never met before.

"Ow!" The girl pushed her away. "Don't headbutt me, it hurts!"

Yukari laughed. "I think she's jealous. Maybe she thinks I've found a new friend and don't need her any more?"

Renko ducked her head under the table and fumed. Yukari stuck a hand underneath to scratch her under the chin, and she calmed a little bit.

"But I really can stop being human, just like that?" The girl's voice was pinched. "I went through twenty years of hell for no reason at all? I don't have to keep living like this?"

Yukari's laugh, though soft, echoed around the room. "Of course you don't. But don't think it was for no reason! After all, those twenty years of hell ended up bringing you here, did they not?"

"Wasn't there some easier way?"

"Perhaps there was. But this is the way you have now. You can live the life you want to starting from this point forwards, as long as you're willing to let it turn you into a monster."

"You don't seem like a monster."

"Oh my, that's good to hear." Yukari laughed again. "Still, imagine that you became something like Renko here. Would you still be willing to live? I don't want to give you a gift if you'll immediately squander it again."

"...Would I headbutt people a lot?"

"Only if you wanted to." Yukari's voice was full of amusem*nt. "I did tell you that she's sapient. She can even speak, though it seems like she's chosen not to today."

"She can speak and she headbutted me instead?"

"She's responsible for her own actions."

The girl sighed. "I can't fault her for that."

Yukari yawned, covering her face with her fan. "I do mean monster when I say monster, though. Not just in form, but in way of life as well... but I doubt that that's a problem for you. You don't want to be human, do you? You want to give up the burdens of that life. In fact, you'd rather be anything else instead."

"...Yeah, I guess. I mean, it's not like people treat me much like a human anyway. So I'm not losing anything."

"And you want to get back at them for that, isn't that right? Even if you have to throw away the things that you cared about? All of your other desires?"

"Yeah."

"You promise that you won't lose your will to live again right away?"

The girl shook her head emphatically. "Are you kidding me? If it means that I don't have to be human any more, I'll live life to the fullest for as long as I can."

"I'm so glad to hear that." Yukari extended a hand towards her, tracing a line in the air as she went. Behind it, the air split in two, leaving nothing at all in its wake. "Now, if you'll just take my hand?"

"You were so jealous!" Yukari laughed, wiping tears from her eyes with her gloved hand. "It was so cute, I just couldn't stop myself from teasing you."

Renko, peeking her nose out from a pile of scattered papers on the ground, pouted, her whiskers going limp in an imitation of disappointment. "How was I supposed to know? Honestly, Yukari, it's as if you expect me to read your mind."

Yukari stopped laughing for a moment, frowned at her glove, then pulled it off and tossed it onto the table. She wiped her eyes again with her bare hand. "With all the trials and tribulations I've gone through for your sake?" She doubled over. "You must have thought I was an angel, ahaha. Oh, poor Renko, abandoned for the newest young thing to catch her beloved's eye!"

"I suppose I wasn't really thinking." Renko smiled lopsidedly. "Also, your hands aren't any cleaner than your gloves are."

"Oh, shut up." Yukari flicked a crimson hand in Renko's direction, still laughing. "They'll dry faster this way."

"Can't you just use your ability to clean yourself up?" Renko shook off the last of the papers.

"I'm having fun, Renko." Yukari flopped backwards onto the floor. "Don't you want me to enjoy myself? Besides, I rescued the books already. I'm very responsible."

Indeed, despite the state of the room, the books on the table were utterly pristine, like they'd been freshly printed. Renko suspected that the books and scrolls in the library did not yellow and degrade for similar reasons.

Yukari sat up. "And for that matter, you're having some fun yourself, aren't you?"

Renko looked out the window. "I don't know what you're talking about." She couldn't stop herself from smiling a little bit, though.

"Your face is bright red. You're not fooling anyone." There was a grin in Yukari's voice.

"Hey, that's not because I'm blushing!" Renko wheeled.

Despite the fact that she was across the room from her, Yukari's fingertip met her nose. "Yes, but it implicates you just as much. You're perfectly capable of cleaning up if you want to after eating that much, but you want to pretend you're stuck with your little lizard hands, don't you?"

"I was hungry! You're not being fair, I could be stuck like this for all you know... but maybe a little bit."

"I can see that you're not." Yukari smiled and leaned onto the table. "It's still funny, though, that you thought that I was replacing you with that."

"It's not like I can see the boundary of serious and joking, you know."

Yukari fumbled around on the floor for a moment, then grabbed something and placed it on the table with a wet thud. "Hey, Renko~ I'm so much more like Merry than you are~ She's going to forget yoooouuuuu~" She said in a sing-songy voice.

"Hey." Renko glared at the lifeless severed head. "That's not very nice of you, uh... What was her name again?"

Yukari laughed. The head fell over on its side. "I have no idea. I think she told me at some point, probably when I rescued her or something like that. I didn't bother to remember, though."

"Do you only ever hunt humans which you think will tick me off?" Renko rested her head on the table.

Yukari tilted her head to the side. "Hmm?"

"The other physics major who wouldn't shut up about you being dead, this one who made me feel like I was going to be replaced. Are you trying to ease me into the idea?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind you being a little more proactive." Yukari rested her chin in her hands. "You eat a lot, since you're a growing girl, and I have a refined palate. I'm old enough— and strong enough— that I've grown used to eating far more human as a fraction of my diet than is the case for weaker youkai. But Gensoukyou's supplies are limited as is; there are only so many humans who fall through the barrier. It's much more effective for me to hunt on the outside personally. So perhaps I'm subconsciously making choices that align with what I'd like you to do... Though the physicist was on purpose, yes."

Renko had expected as much. "Any reason for this one besides that, then?" She glanced at the head.

"Like I said, she reminded me of myself." Yukari's grin was absolutely catlike. "That is to say, myself before I had any direction. Imagine if I'd become a youkai before you'd told me that dreams could be made into reality. I'd be a terrible bore, and probably have died an early death due to fatalism, too."

"She seemed pretty eager to become a youkai." Renko blinked slowly.

"Not at all! She was eager enough to abandon her humanity, but to become something else? Not in the slightest. The desire to escape one's existence— with no desire for anything beyond— is the desire for death sublimated into another form. Her attitude resembled mine when I was barely a teenager. She'd abandoned far more of her other desires than I, though." Yukari's disdain was obvious. "Of course, bringing her back from the brink of death made her something a little more than human for a bit. That improves the flavor, you see. But she utterly lacked any meaning. Most humans do."

"In contrast, I had the desire to stand alongside you, and to get back at the ones who took you from me. And to explore this new world, to figure out its secrets. So, thinking about it in that way, despite being distant from humanity, she was distant from being an actual youkai, too." Renko's chin, resting on the tabletop, had returned to its more familiar form. She laid a bare arm across the table and pointed. "And you're obvious."

"Oh, I am?" Yukari smiled sweetly. "I'm not going to let your misjudgment pass no matter how little you're wearing, Renko."

"You want your world to be acknowledged as real."

Yukari's face brightened. "Right answer!"

Renko grinned. "What, did you think that I learned nothing about you in all our time together? Even though we see different worlds, we can communicate with each other, right?"

"It's cheating a little bit, since I'm so blunt about it." At some point, the red had disappeared from Yukari's gloves lying on the table. "And that's only the starting condition."

"Still, though. She wanted something." Renko folded her hands. "It's not like she was completely without purpose."

"To die, to be loved. To find a purpose, perhaps. Nothing more than the shallowest of human desires."

"Like humans who want us to exist, but don't think that we exist?"

"Precisely like that. So many humans feel this way! And they think that it alienates them from others... What really alienates them, of course, is that they don't want to understand anything, others included. They don't care about anything but an escape from the pain that they feel. In Gensoukyou, humans like this become vengeful ghosts, grasping for shreds of revenge... or yuurei, feeling as if their lives were unfinished... they throw their true desires away for shadows on the wall, and annihilate themselves as independent beings."

"Contrasting this with youkai, it's obvious where the conflict lies. Youkai want things. That's practically all that they are, embodiments of desire. They don't want to escape suffering, they want others to suffer instead of themselves. They want power, they want things like to take over Japan..." Renko frowned.

"Hey, Yukari. You never tried doing that, did you? Even though you'll gladly take the opportunity to inflict whatever you like upon humans?"

"Of course not."

"Why not?"

"Why didn't I just eat that girl after she drowned? I wonder."

"Oh, I see."

Chapter 18

Chapter Text

At this time of year, the world is colored black and white. The tracks of cats and foxes appear in the snow between the trees, moving quickly and methodically so as not to sink into it. The treetops themselves hold little here; higher in the mountains, the pines grasp onto clumps of white, their dark needles contrasting against their dark trunks only slightly. Even the most populous parts of the valley are covered in a thick, insulating blanket, the streets slippery with ice. The insides of houses there are filled with bustle and clatter as always, of course. But even further away, hidden in the frozen foothills, there are tiny enclosures, covering up portions of the forest floor with the smallest declaration that "I was here." Most are abandoned. Nothing lasts forever. But in the isolated northeast, there is a small enclosure with four sets of footprints leading to its entrance.

The colors of the world within this enclosure are warm. In the corner of one room, a flickering brazier sits, letting shadows dance on the walls. A low hum— 60 Hertz— permeates the air. And enjoying the fruits of that insistent hum, a youkai sits, her legs under the kotatsu.

A cold breeze blew across my face, and I looked out the open door to watch Renko leaping about in the snow. It was the first true snowfall of the year; big clumps of it were still falling from the sky to join the six or eight sun on the ground. Chen was carefully picking her way through the garden, shaking her feet every time she took a step, but unwilling to take flight or to come back indoors.

Renko spread out her arms, then fell on her back into the snow, laughing all the while. The dim light from the crescent moon, reflected off the snow, illuminated her as if it was day. I yawned. The overpowering brightness of winter nights always tired me. Unlike the moon's, the albedo of snow isn't a mystery at all. Any human can pick up a handful and shine a lantern to watch it glitter. In that sense, its light is much closer to that of the hated sun. Renko didn't seem to mind too much, though. She has been diurnal for almost the entirety of her life. And snow is so rare in the outside world that the very sight of it might be enough to offset her exhaustion.

Still, after a while, she grew tired of her cavorting and came indoors to lean damply on me, without even bothering to remove her shawl. Her nose and cheeks were a bright cherry red, but her skin was freezing and wet. She huddled under the kotatsu and laid her head covered in half-frozen hair on my lap, instantly dampening my dressing gown.

"I have come to a conclusion." She announced.

"Oh?" I obtained a towel from somewhere and set to drying her hair. "And what might that be?"

"I hate the cold." Her expression was grim.

I pinched her cheek. It was just as cold as when she'd first come indoors. "Why go out in it, then?"

"I've only seen snow in the mountains." She blinked slowly. "I'm tired."

"You won't die if you fall asleep under the kotatsu."

"Maybe in a little bit, then." Renko yawned, stretched, and then curled up. "Isn't there somewhere warmer we could go for the winter? You've been a slug for the past few days, too."

"Everywhere else is either full of snow or of humans, Renko. Normally, I go with the latter, but..."

"You care about me so much that you'd become a useless blob rather than abandon me? Aww, Yukari..."

"Who's useless, now?"

"Hey, I can't help it if my thermoregulation doesn't work. Or, actually, it probably does work. Dragons are based on dinosaurs, aren't they? Stories about them, that is. So we're mesotherms."

"I wonder what other traits of questionable paleontology you have."

"I'm a strange mix of Saurischia and Ornithischia. And I have fur. I'd say I'm on the same level as nineteenth-century reconstructions." She yawned again, and shut her eyes. "So I'm perfect for Gensoukyou."

"Indeed you are."

Renko didn't respond, and her breathing slowed. She had never had any trouble falling asleep. I had a dim memory— something my mind had considered important enough to maintain for millennia— of her announcing to me that falling asleep in class was her "hobby". Perhaps the bad habit ran in the family.

She hadn't mentioned it to me, but the anniversary of my disappearance— for her, that is— had come and gone. It was December now. A year ago, Renko was embroiled in her desperate, useless two-month search. I'd seen her progress from hopeful determination as she searched the places we had spent time together, to frenzied, desperate repetition, to depression and listlessness. And then I had struck.

Even now, becoming a monster, calling herself a perfect fit for my Gensoukyou, Renko hadn't yet acknowledged it. If I had come to her a week or a month after my disappearance from her perspective, she would have remained in that complacency forever, convinced that she was happy to observe the unknown from a distance. Only when threatened with the possibility of my disappearing forever was she willing to become part of it, even superficially. But she did not yet know.

That protective membrane separating her from the truly abnormal still surrounded her, thinner than the Planck length. If she poked at it with her egg tooth, she'd emerge instantly. But her desire was so strong, it barred her from action. "You're the strange one, Merry."

...When one looks at Gensoukyou from a great distance, there's very little strange about it. Barring the diversity of the plant life, and something that looks like the illusion of a castle floating in the distance, it's exactly the same as every other abandoned valley in this country. Without looking within, the marvels remain hidden from human eyes.

Of course, looking within is often deadly. It is not true that sorrow and death never enter Hourai;— neither is it true that there is never any winter. The snow outside fell softly as proof of that. But to enter after having passed into phantasm, even if one does not yet realize it—

—Gensoukyou accepts everything. The cruelty inherent in that statement stains the colorless world of humans with every second that passes, every thought in a human mind.

She has begun to realize it. But she hadn't yet. That she lived here, and thus that she had truly become a part of Gensoukyou. That by accepting me, the world around her, the world that had not yet noticed what she was, began to reject her. All she had needed to do was realize the contradiction, and it erased her in full.

Incidentally, newborn bakegitsune and bakedanuki survive for years in the outside world. Many carp climb waterfalls and, for a few months, become water dragons. They drift in life without purpose, completely unaware of why they exist. But they do so nonetheless, for quite impressive stretches.

The stronger the contradiction, the quicker the erasure. To expose the foundation of sand that the tower has been built on, to lay it bare, to destroy it— how little time would a dreadful act such as that be allowed?

Chapter 19

Chapter Text

Drip, drop.

It was an unseasonably warm day for one where the sun had not risen until seven. Water formed little rivulets down tree branches, coalescing around bumps and knots and broken twigs, forming icicles. Abandoned birds' nests, cradled in the forks of cherry trees, had begun to rot from the damp.

But in the small ponds nearby, in the openings in the ice that had started to form, there was chirping. Not the trilling of birds, but the peeps of small green frogs. It was spring already, they were sure; so why not enjoy it a little? However, if you listened closely, you could hear pauses in their chorus, localized to one pond at a time. And if you listened closer still, you would hear the rhythm of footsteps muffled by the soft, wet snow. And maybe, if your ears were sharp enough, you'd hear the sound of something being dragged behind them.

In a place like this, it was unusual to see visitors. The oppressive, poisonous atmosphere was uninviting to humans, and the wavering boundaries between worlds made it a frightening place for youkai. But because of those very same wavering boundaries, it was warm, winter or summer. That was probably why the frogs were fond of it. Their lives were so short that they didn't fear being uprooted.

Usami Renko, passing under a cherry tree, yawned and stretched. It was warm, but it wasn't warm. The sun was high in the sky, but a brisk wind promised another freeze tonight or the night afterwards. And the phantoms that flooded the area sent a chill through her when she brushed against them.

With her hand, she swept the wet snow off of an unmarked gravestone and perched herself on top of it. The damp would be uncomfortable, but she would dry off in seventeen minutes. She needed a place to collect her thoughts.

It made no sense.

If she was lacking in a defined identity or history as something beyond human, then it made no sense. She shouldn't have become something less human-looking when she nearly faded from existence. She didn't know what that identity was, but many youkai didn't. Maybe even most. Few sat around modeling the evolution of the human fear they'd been made to fulfill in their minds. And as for history, she'd seen it— gossip in the newspapers, Kasen's beliefs— all fabricating a long, long history for her.

But within hours outside the barrier, she'd burned away almost to nothing. There was some kind of fuel that fed it, kindling a fire to roaring heights, eating into the things that made her herself. It was something about her, something she represented. Far from lacking a defined identity, she had too much of one. But how?

Dragons weren't any more impossible than kappa or tengu. Sure, she was visibly inhuman, but if anything, to be visibly human would have been worse. When Merry was excised from reality, she'd looked no different from anyone else walking down the street. No, something about Renko's very self, something that made her different from all the others, was what made her anathema.

Selfish beings, inherently.

She wanted something. Well, she wanted a lot of things. A hot lunch, for it to be spring, to go back and look at the frogs instead of worrying so much. But she wanted something that conflicted with what they wanted. Turn the world of dreams into reality!— What did she mean when she said that, years ago? Did she want to live in that world? To become a phantom of wavefunction interference, unknown to those who failed to notice the truth?

Of course not. Unpublished results were nothing. Far from selfishly holding the world of dreams to her chest, she wanted it to be known, to be spoken of until the end of time, to never be forgotten. But beyond just publication, beyond results known to the general public, beyond their becoming common knowledge, there was implementation. Theory and practice. To turn the world of dreams into reality, there was nothing so vulgar as knowing the results of a simulation matched the actual world.

The anathema was to turn the world of reality into that of dreams. It was simple, if she thought about it in that way. There were humans who wanted that. But there were none who needed that. To need the world of dreams, to be unable to live without it, that already made her inhuman.

And she couldn't have it. Even here, the youkai didn't care. They wanted to wait for salvation from something that didn't exist. A snake-oil panacea.

But.

Could she not have it? It was impossible. It wasn't impossible. When Merry had disappeared, there was never any way Renko would see her again. But she had. The entrance at the Hakurei Shrine hadn't borne fruit. Except for—

The models available hadn't panned out. There were components missing; on the one hand, no one would listen, on the other, it didn't exist. But by devising a new theory, she could try and implement it. Through effort alone, she could expose the barriers. She was no one. But if she got enough people to think she was someone, she could. She could prove the absolute truth.

Well. Life without strenuous effort wasn't worth living.

Let's go sell some snake oil, then. She whirled around and made as if to hop off the gravestone, but a noise over her shoulder made her pause. She glanced to her left.

For a moment, she thought that she had daydreamed herself back to the outside world. But her head didn't ache, and the woods and snow were still there. It was just that the scene had gained an addition in the form of a mildly perturbed-looking salaryman. He seemed to have lost track of the subway map.

He nodded to Renko as she jumped down into the snow.

"Are you lost?" The question was a nicety rather than an inquiry.

"Yes." He said shortly, setting his briefcase down in the snow and lifting up his phone to the heavens like a torch. "No signal here either. Considering you, though, I shouldn't be surprised."

Renko smiled at the acknowledgment. "What about me?"

"Your horns and tail. You look like some kind of legendary being. I don't want to assume right off the bat, but are you a dragon?" He put his phone in his pants pocket.

"I am." Renko's tail looped in the air. "A dragon of stars."

She held out a hand in front of herself. The air in front of her was made of oxygen, nitrogen, and argon. The sun couldn't fuse these elements— and neither could any of the stars in the Big Dipper. But it wasn't like humans could tell different types of plasma apart just by looking at them. Captured in a television, in an electrical arc, or on the surface of a star, it was all the same to them. So, for a fairly impressive demonstration, all she had to do was force a large amount of energy into a tiny space. Anyone with a little youkai power and understanding of how ionization worked could do the same. But ripping a group of electrons away from their nuclei certainly looked stellar.

As the tiny ball of plasma fizzled away in her hand, the salaryman's gaze remained transfixed on it.

"You really aren't human." His voice still sounded disbelieving.

"Most here aren't." She grinned, then shut her mouth quickly. He didn't seem to notice anything strange. "Which leads me to ask: why are you here?"

"Me? I just... got lost." He picked up his briefcase and brushed some snow off his shoes. "In life. In space too, but I was wandering for my own reasons beforehand. And it looks like I've ended up passing away and going somewhere else." He gestured at the graves all around. "It's too bad."

She couldn't sense any fear from him. But if he were dead, the other spirits in Muenzuka would gather around, excited to make a new friend. The fact that they ignored him meant that he was alive. And that she had a choice to make. She locked eyes with the human and stared.

"You haven't passed away yet. This is more like Hourai than Heaven."

He faked a sigh of despondence, but she could see relief in his eyes. "You mean I haven't been judged and found worthy yet? Damn."

"It doesn't snow in paradise, you know?" Renko picked up wet snow from the ground, packed it into a ball, and tossed it at him lazily. It splattered on his suit jacket.

He brushed it off. "If I'm not in paradise, then I'd like to know where the closest human habitation is, if there is any. I don't think I can make a living in a graveyard."

"It's a ways away. I can show you, if you want?" Renko gestured towards the woods. "I'll be your guiding star." She winked at him.

"If you'd be so kind."

They set off past the ponds, through the barren cherry trees. The man listened with apparent wonder to the chorus of tree frogs as Renko's tail dragged through the snow ahead of him, leaving a thin path.

The trees began to grow more thickly as they passed away from Muenzuka's weakened boundary, and the snow covering the ground thickened from the cooler temperatures. The salaryman stumbled, and Renko looked over her shoulder sympathetically.

Some humans really were willing to accept the fantastical without any qualifications. It was only rational; it was obvious to anyone who thought about it that physics was incomplete. It didn't properly describe the world. But humans generally didn't like thinking about things that they didn't understand. It was only the rare few that gathered and chatted about the unfalsifiable nowadays. It was heartwarming, honestly, to think that her existence— and Merry's— was allowed, even if only a little. But it wasn't enough.

They reached a frozen stream. Renko could still hear the babbling of water underneath the thick white ice, but she couldn't see it. She knocked on the ice's surface. It echoed hollowly.

"It should be safe to cross. Come on." She gestured over her shoulder to the human following her.

He shook his head. "I can hear the water under there. Can't we find somewhere narrower?"

She sighed. "Look, it's a stream. Even if you fall in, all that will happen is that you'll get a bit wet. I can warm you up right away."

"I still don't think it's safe."

"How about I test it?" Renko tilted her head towards the ice. "I'll walk across, and if it holds, you can follow me."

"If it starts creaking with you on it, I'm not coming over." However, he nodded.

"Of course." Renko took a tentative step onto the ice. Her dress shoes had little traction, and her tail dragging behind her made her feel like she was going to fall over backwards with every step. She had flown over the stream on the way to Muenzuka; in fact, she'd flown over the tops of the trees entirely. She could probably have flown over this time, too. He was almost certainly light enough to carry with little exertion.

She reached the other side, and gave a little wave. The ice hadn't made so much as a sound as she walked over it. The salaryman began to slowly shuffle across the ice, looking like nothing so much as a briefcase-holding penguin. He moved so slowly, though, even though the ice beneath him barely creaked at all, and by the time he was halfway across the river, Renko had lost her patience.

She half-floated, half-pranced across the river ice towards him. He took a step back.

"Hold on! The ice won't hold!"

Renko landed tiptoes-first on the ice in front of him. It gave a great groan. He took another step back. The ice wailed. She took a step towards him. The creaking didn't stop.

The man took a third step back, and the entire center of the steam gave way. He flung his briefcase to the side as he fell, and it plunged into the icy water with him.

Renko floated above the wrecked ice, looking down at the scene. The current was weak now that the ice restraining it had gone, and the water only reached up to the man's waist. If he stood up and walked, he'd be able to walk to the bank before he froze.

She dove, grabbing him by the back of the collar, and dragged him out of the water. As she hauled him out onto the ice, she looked into his eyes. The calm and understanding from before was gone, leaving only a mix of terror, betrayal, and relief. The betrayal was surely a short-term emotional response to his fall, blaming her irrationally.

Still holding his collar, she dragged him back to the edge of the water. In shock as he was, he didn't even move. Floating just above the icy water, she grabbed his head by its well-trimmed hair and shoved it under.

The unmoving star guides humans in the night. The other stars are fickle; their positions vary from season to season. Many of them are evil omens, too, working to lead humans astray. If one were to follow them without that knowledge, perhaps something dreadful might happen.

Chapter 20

Chapter Text

"In the outside world, some people call teas that don't come from tea leaves tisanes."

"Oh?" Kasen was absentmindedly scratching Mukou on the chin. "Why's that?"

Renko pushed a kernel of corn across the table slowly. Her gamble paid off when Mukou, distracted by the treat, skittered out of Kasen's lap and onto the table, to a swift scolding. "It's some Latinate construction, I think. But by that definition, you've only offered me tea once when I've come by to visit."

"Herbal teas are physically and spiritually healthy, so I'm not going to stop." Kasen was cradling Mukou in her arms like a particularly vengeful baby. Tiny electrical sparks were floating and disappearing in the air around her. "I don't know if they'll cure your amnesia right away, but at the very least, they're soothing. And I enjoy them, myself."

"The flavor's a little sour, even for me." Renko stuck out her tongue slightly. "Why gentian root specifically? I'm not sick."

Kasen took a thoughtful sip. "Well, that's the point, isn't it? With such a strong sour flavor, you don't need to take it as often. Though I'm in a position where I don't really need to take it at all, nowadays."

Renko blinked.

"...You're giving me gentian tea as an appetite suppressant?"

"Not an overall appetite suppressant. I wouldn't prepare dim sum when you visited if that was the case. I just thought it would help." Kasen absently poked Mukou's cheek, and yelped a little bit when a spark flew out.

"I don't really need the help." Renko said bluntly. Or more precisely, the gentian tea didn't seem to satisfy the same needs as that did. With that in mind, it was kind of strange that it seemed to work for Kasen, but the more times that Renko had dropped in, the stranger Kasen seemed. She wasn't a real hermit— that much was obvious just from testing her knowledge— nor, obviously, was she a human. But despite her youkai nature, she seemed not to have any of the needs or desires of most youkai. If it was her training, then maybe because she'd managed to fool the humans into thinking she was a real hermit, she got some of the effects?

"You met Hieda no Aji, didn't you?" Kasen nodded approvingly. "Koutei told me. It's nice to hear of you mingling with humans. And it's nice to see her trusting someone else for once, besides..." She looked pointedly out the window. "Well, we have our disagreements on her, so I'll leave it. Did you learn anything interesting from Aji?"

"Some. I have an idea of why I'm here now, actually." Renko said conversationally. "That's part of why I visited." She took a sip of pungent gentian tea. "And your senkai is pretty in the spring."

Actually, she'd woken up this evening, looked out the window at the half-melted snow and the few early stars, and been slammed over the head by the idea "I should go visit Kasen." She'd been planning on visiting the Moriya Shrine when she'd fallen asleep in the morning; Yukari had locked herself in her office writing, only coming out to eat and sleep (the latter of which she spent fourteen hours a day doing), and the humans were still cozied up in their homes, too. Touka had told her to go away unless she had mandarin oranges, but it was three months out from when they were at market, so Renko didn't really know how Touka expected her to get her hands on them. She'd considered looking at the stars until she figured it out, but that was stupid. It wasn't reasonable to think that the flashes of random instinct she'd been having recently were based on the same logic as her inhumanly fast calculation of time and location. She'd just decided to bother the only other living being she knew would be out doing her job in the winter, even if she ended up being upsold on mediocre tea again. Well, until she hadn't, but.

"It's still winter. The plums are only just starting to bud." Kasen glanced at a branch in the middle of the table. "That said, they are pretty. I'm glad to hear you're starting to remember some things. Could I ask what your idea is?"

"Did I ever tell you about my ability?" Renko leaned towards Kasen, with both of her elbows on the table. "I can't remember if I did. Time, location, stars, that ring a bell?"

Kasen's expression maintained a measured neutrality, barring the nearly-imperceptible widening of her eyes and the less-imperceptible dilation of her pupils. "Once or twice. Why do you ask?"

"I think that the stars might have something to do with who I am, somehow." Renko lied.

"I see." Kasen picked up her teacup with a trembling left hand. Renko inspected her own hands. She had expected to be a little nervous, but Kasen wasn't much more difficult to convince of things than humans or the tengu were. All it had taken was a couple of nights in the snow with a telescope on a hill in clear view of the village, and she'd made enough of an association to find a very excited Kakashi Spirit News article dropped on that same hill for her. It had a line asking her to confirm or deny some "thoughtography" findings, after which she'd departed for a different hill entirely. The effects of not controlling the narrative were worrying, but it was all speculation at this point anyway. It probably wouldn't affect her too much until she did something.

The doing something was the problem, though. She already knew that she was somewhat weak to the cold, though she could remedy that a little with plasma and a voracious appetite; but what was more concerning to her than that was oxygen. Negative pressure she could probably withstand; her body was at least as resilient as aluminum alloys. But did she need air to breathe? Her lungs moved in and out when she spoke. Or her chest did, anyway. If someone cut her open, would they find lungs in there? It would be fun to get an MRI and spook the technicians... She was getting away from the topic.

"On an unrelated note, do you know of anywhere in Gensoukyou that lacks oxygen?" Judging from Kasen's vague knowledge about the outside world, there was a good chance she knew what oxygen was. Not as good of a chance as that tanuki, but that tanuki would probably just lie to her. "Besides underwater or high up in the air, that is." Renko wanted to be able to escape from the predicament quickly if need be.

Kasen's brow furrowed. "I don't think I..." Her expression brightened. "Yes I do! Do you know where the Komakusa Gambling Den is?"

For a gambling den, it wasn't very well-hidden. But apparently gambling was legal in Gensoukyou, so. "It's on the way to the Moriya Shrine from here as the tengu flies, isn't it?"

Kasen nodded. "In the cliff face nearby, there's a cave that used to be used for mining, the Rainbow Dragon Cave. The deeper you go into it, the more the oxygen levels drop. Although I've heard some strange things about it, if you need a dry space without oxygen, it should be your best bet."

—

With that, Renko took off for the cliffs of Youkai Mountain. While the snow on the ground in the foothills had almost melted, the further one climbed, the more persistent it got. Indeed, by the time she perched on the roof of the Komakusa Gambling Den, the brim of her hat had been covered by a thin dusting of snow, and her legs were half-submerged into a snowbank. But sure enough, there was a good-sized opening in the cliff behind the establishment. She had thought before that it was a little crevice in the cliff face, but if what Kasen had told her was true, it was exactly what she needed.

Renko wondered what a rainbow dragon would look like.

Knocking away a few icicles at the entrance, she entered the cave. Immediately after the entrance, it widened out enormously; if Renko had been asked to name it, she would have called it the Rainbow Dragon Cavern. The walls did sparkle quite a lot; the shining stones embedded in them did produce a rainbow, after all. She wondered if she should have worn some light-colored clothes; the light played off of her shirtsleeves, but her cape and skirt were as dark as ever. It would have been more impressive if she'd at least taken her cape off, but it was cold outside.

It wasn't really cold here, though. The deeper she progressed, the warmer the air felt. That combined with the smooth rock made her wonder if the rumors about Youkai Mountain being a volcano were true. If that was the case, was the gas slowly filling this cave hydrogen sulfide instead of oxygen? But it didn't smell. Perhaps carbon dioxide.

Still, far from feeling unwell, the further Renko progressed into the cave, the more she felt a strange sense of familiarity. In the distance, she could hear a low rumbling, but it didn't frighten her at all. Instead she had the feeling that she'd been here before, somehow. But back then, she had felt uneasy, hadn't she? She paused a moment in the air, then landed next to one of the walls, looking intently at a small, shining stone half-embedded in it. She pulled at the stone with her hands, and after a few tries, it fell quietly out of the wall and onto the ground. She picked the object up. In her hand, it felt smooth, and warm. Its shape was between that of a fishhook and that of a key.

The volcano must have unearthed a number of Izanagi Objects when it first erupted. Fragments of the continental plate, carried up with the liquefied mantle of the Earth, here to Gensoukyou. Renko had brought the one that Merry had found with her to Gensoukyou; she would have to compare the two. What she had come here to test had been confirmed, and as a bonus, she had discovered a part of her and Merry's history lurked here beneath Youkai Mountain. So excited was Renko, she hadn't even noticed the scuttling noise growing closer and closer behind her.

Renko turned to leave. Inches from her face, a girl with greasy blue-grey hair and a wild expression stopped abruptly. Renko jumped back a full two meters.

"Hello."

The cave began to fill with an acrid stench. The girl, who was seemingly emanating it, didn't bother with introductions. "Can I eatcha?"

Renko shoved the Izanagi Object into her pocket. "No? I'm not a human."

"I know yer not. You're a thief, and a dragon." The girl took a step forward. Renko took a step back.

"I see how the first part works, but shouldn't the second make you want to eat me less?"

"Nope." The girl grinned. "Y'see, I'm an oomukade. Himemushi Momoyo. So, can I eatcha?"

Renko thought for a moment, and took a long look at Momoyo's outfit.

"Sure."

Momoyo blinked. "Sure?"

"I said what I said. Come here." Renko thought about the sour tea she'd had earlier, and how unfulfilling it was. There hadn't been dragons in Gensoukyou for generations. A dragon-eating youkai would certainly be despondent under these circ*mstances. It was a good thing for Renko that she had an easy source of her preferred food. When she went home this morning, she'd like to have yakiniku...

Almost delicately, Momoyo picked her way across the cave floor, a disbelieving expression on her face. Probably nothing she'd ever eaten had just stood there in place waiting for her to come eat it. She took Renko's hand in her own, covered in calluses, and lifted it towards her face, opening her mouth.

Renko gripped Momoyo's wrist hard and dragged it towards her. Before the oomukade could react, she bit down.

She barely pierced the skin, but after thinking about tonight's yakiniku, her mouth was watering. Momoyo fell to the ground, grabbing her wrist and screaming bloody murder.

Renko wiped her mouth. "It would probably be best to wait until I'm already dead to try and eat me, in future. Or there are some other, stupider dragons around, if you're interested in that."

"Go to hell! You didn't have to bite me that hard if you didn't want to be eaten, you damn— Ow!" Momoyo winced. "I shouldn't have told you I was an oomukade. This stings like hell."

Renko knelt next to her, her face plastered with a friendly smile. "It helps that I didn't have breakfast this evening. My mouth's been watering since a couple of hours ago. But hey, not everyone knows your weaknesses. I'm sure announcing yourself will work out one of these times. It probably does a lot to engender fear, right?"

"Except in you. Owww." Momoyo rubbed her wrist. "You did beat me fair and square, I guess, even though I would have had more fun if I were able to go all out first. You're a jackass."

Renko smiled brightly. "It's not your fault that nobody who's wanted to eat me has managed to eat me. But If I beat you fair and square, can I ask for a prize?"

"I've already sworn my loyalty to someone else. So if it's not that, then sure." Momoyo sat up. "I'm not gonna bother you if you want to stay in here, though, if that's what you want."

"No, I'm going home for yakiniku." Renko pulled out the Izanagi Object. "It's this. I know that I stole it, but can I keep it?"

"The dragon gem? Sure." Momoyo nodded. "Yakiniku sounds great. Maybe I should bug Megumu about it tonight."

"I hope it's a good consolation prize." Renko stuffed the gem back into her pocket. "See you around."

"See ya."

Only once Renko flew out of the cave did she realize that none of her fears about oxygen had materialized in the slightest. The stars seemed to be winking out an I-told-you-so to her as she flew home to a hot meal, unobstructed by either gentian tea or giant centipedes. But maybe they had earned it.

Chapter 21

Chapter Text

"So, what do I win?"

Renko washed the last of the egg off of her hands and reached for the towel hanging by the sink.

"Ha." The edges of Yukari's mouth curled up, but she didn't look Renko's way, focused on fishing cutlets out of the broth simmering on the stove. "It's closer to Wiener schnitzel than katsudon, I'd say. And even so, adding the egg would only qualify you for second place."

"They're from the same origin. And you know that parable about donating a penny—"

"If you'd started cooking when you were younger, you'd have more to give than a penny." Yukari set down the bowls by the open door. "Come eat."

Renko sat down, crossing her legs. "Thanks for the food."

The egg didn't really add much to the dish besides texture. The expensive luxury of a fresh egg, costing almost as much as the cutlet itself in the outside world, had somehow managed to worm itself into her head as an integral part of the nostalgic flavor. And maybe it was. Compared to the pork, let alone chicken, katsu that she was used to, the other ingredients were obviously playing much less of a central role. It couldn't just be attributed to the type of meat, either. There were plenty of dishes she'd had in Gensoukyou where it was easy to notice the vegetables and seasonings. Actually, come to think of it...

"How come the ingredients you get always taste better than mine?" It was an admission of defeat. But the flavor was markedly richer. "If I'm not a good cook, I can at least try to be good at that."

Yukari, across from her, was framed by the cherry blossoms outside. Her hair was blowing slightly in the spring breeze, and her eyes were shining with renewed wakefulness. Still, her smile was unusually suspicious. "It's not just cooking experience that one gains with age, you know? The workings of the human mind come more naturally, too. Among other things." A tiny shrug. "And I don't go out of my way to target salarymen in their fifties."

"Among other things?" Renko felt a strange sensation. She was looking at Yukari eating her katsudon, yes, and the cherry blossoms behind her, but in the back of her head, something was insistently notifying her of something she couldn't make out. It was like the beeping of an alarm clock when you were deep in a dream— you knew you were being alerted of something, but your mind shoved it down a hundred different pathways and by the time it got to your conscious mindit was a SCRAM siren. Or something like that.

"I've been reading the newspapers." Yukari giggled. "You still don't understand why you do anything, do you?"

"Excuse me?" Renko blurted out. "I know they've been spinning it as a mystery, but I'd have thought at least you would realize deliberately spread misinformation on its face. You know just as well as I do that that's a story you came up with. I just... added to it a bit."

Yukari shoved her bowl aside and leaned over the table, her face looming above Renko's. "Is that so?"

"What do you mean?" Renko looked up into her eyes. There was that shine in them still, but beneath it, they were unreadable. "I heard a story from you, found out that a couple of humans had started to spread it it, and inserted myself into it."

"You know just as well as I do that I came up with it? If it's so obviously false, why would you waste your time spreading it? Surely there are other, more productive ways to achieve the same function." Yukari put a hand on her chin in a mockery of deep thought. "Come to think of it, how do you know it'll achieve any function at all? Logically, why would something that occurs in fantasy affect reality?"

"I know you made it up because you told me you did." Renko frowned. "It's becoming true now because of my hard work, but—"

"That's right! I only tell the truth." Yukari smiled. "Even if that was true, remind me of something, would you? You do so love listening to stories. Back when we visited that bar so long ago, you believed almost everyone's. Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you believe almost everyone's stories?" Yukari placed a hand on her shoulder. "Tell me."

Renko shrugged a little. Yukari's hand didn't move. "Well, like I said. Most of them weren't told anywhere near skillfully enough to be lies."

"That's what you said. But some of the true stories were told quite skillfully. How were you able to distinguish the two?"

Renko's mouth felt dry. Why did it feel like this was an interrogation? If it was, what could Merry possibly want to know? Nobody could explain their thought processes like that. Well, maybe Merry could, but she wouldn't, so it didn't matter.

"I don't know, I just could."

"I see." Merry's other hand was on her cheek now. "Hey, Renko." Her voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of something ominous lurking in it. "What time is it?"

The stars, visible above the cherry trees, didn't allow her not to answer. "It's 11:56:49 PM."

"And how do you know that?"

Renko frowned at her. "Merry, you know it's because I can see the stars from here."

Merry grinned widely. "Of course it is. But how do you know that they are truly the stars?"

"Eh?" Pure confusion cut through the morass of anxiety. Renko blinked several times. "What are you talking about."

"Satellites. When you first realized you could tell the time through looking at the stars, I'm sure you made so many mistakes. Unable to tell them apart, I wonder how little Renko lived with such confusion?"

Yukari knew something that she didn't. That was as obvious as the light of the stars in the sky. Still, Renko couldn't see it yet. There was a snare hidden somewhere in the underbrush, but she couldn't tell where.

"I... didn't?" Renko's voice wavered.

"How funny." Yukari laughed, as if on cue. "You seem to know everything, Renko."

"I wouldn't go that far, but—"

"No, really now. You seem to know everything. Even if you shouldn't." There was another hand on Renko's shoulder now. Then another on her opposite cheek. "Of course, it's all true. But you can't explain it, can you?"

"What are you talking about?"

Yukari ignored her question, and only continued staring into her face. "Because you know so many things that you can't explain, you rely on other people's explanations for them. To choose any other path would require you to face that."

"That isn't really—"

"Ever since you've come here, that role you take as one standing on the shoulders of giants has started to crumble, hasn't it?" Yukari's voice was saccharine. "Others want to rely on you. They know that they can. And so you pretend more and more not to know."

"Are you saying that I've been the celestial dragon since I came here, and you've known and just refused to tell me?"

"Hardly!" A giggle. "You've known that since you came here, Renko. All I did was realize what you knew and refused to think about."

Renko pushed Yukari away. "I quote an article at you that one time and now everyone's obsessed with me having some kind of massive unfathomable power. You're well aware that all I am is brilliant. Okay, sure, I make some leaps of logic sometimes, but so does everyone. That's what the phrase Eureka is about. I'm going to go take a nap." She stood up from the table.

"Quote an article?" Yukari tilted her head to the side.

"Aji showed me one she'd seen from the outside world. I just didn't remember it, that's all." Renko yawned. "Well, anyway."

"Renko. I wrote that article."

"Were you doing research at some university in the outside world? Why? Boredom, or some other reason? I never thought you were one for astronomy."

"I wrote it based on what you told me, Renko." A smile. "There were no others reporting on the phenomenon. I looked."

"What?" Renko paused. "No, I'm sure that I—"

"Hearing you rattle it off with the same confidence as the time gave me the idea. Then you found your way home without my guidance, repeatedly... You'd have to be my shikigami to do that. Or perhaps something else was happening?"

"Nothing was happening. Your home is easy to find."

"Back when I disappeared, you knew that I was gone right away, didn't you? Without even getting home."

"It didn't fit with your normal patterns of behavior."

"So, Renko. You knew that dreams and reality being one would violate entropy, and yet you believed that they were. You know that the celestial dragon is a fairy tale for fairy tales. And yet you're still weaving it. How odd!"

"I'm leaving." Renko grabbed her hat. "We'll talk again when you decide to stop trying to trick me into following along with your plans without telling me the truth."

"You know, Renko, you're an awfully effective demon. I hear that their absolute duty is to lie to humans. And what better way to achieve that than lying to themselves?"

Without replying, Renko tossed on her cloak and flew into the night, her face hot.

Chapter 22

Chapter Text

It wasn't quite the season for roses to bloom.

In fact, the cherry blossom viewings weren't even in full swing; only in the lowest valleys in Gensoukyou were groups of young women, humans and youkai, gathering and drinking under the cherry trees. Spring didn't finish arriving in Gensoukyou until Lily White went loudly announcing it up the slopes of Youkai Mountain. And no one would say spring had come at all until it reached the Hakurei Shrine. The wild roses up in the foothills weren't even budding yet, much less blossoming.

Nonetheless, the hermit Ibarakasen was dutifully puttering about in her yard, attacking the bare rosebushes with a pair of gardening shears. The metal chain attached to the shackle on her left arm clinked against the scissors, and she sighed a little bit.

Ever since she had reacquainted herself with her long-lost arm, it had been like this. Normally, a hermit's dwelling would exist in exactly the form the hermit wanted it, whether in the world outside there was rain, shine, snow, or wind. It was a symbol of the peace they had made with the world as it existed— as they sought to meet the world as it stood, bringing it along with them to greater heights, the world sought to shape itself into a form pleasing to theirspirit.

The spring and summer after she had reunited with her arm, all had seemed as usual. The peach blossoms had bloomed long into the summer months, and the temperature had remained pleasantly warm throughout autumn. Komachi would visit often, as she always had, whenever the weather was rainy. For the first time in a few hundred years, she'd managed to feel a little peace. But... that winter, snow had fallen on her roof. It was a tiny amount, no more than two or three sun. Despite that, the roses in her garden had died. The peach blossoms had survived, though. It was as if her arm was mocking their name, Ibarakasen...

The following winter, it hadn't snowed at all. So that explanation was right out.

As the years had passed, though, it happened more and more often. Perhaps it was because Gensoukyou's own winters had grown colder and colder. Perhaps it was something weighing on her mind. She didn't know. But nowadays, nine out of ten winters, snow blanketed the roof of her paradise. And nine out of ten springs, she had to rejuvenate her garden by hand.

Kasen moved on to the next rosebush as something hit the ground behind her with a soft thud. She turned. Standing in a small crater in the grass, holding a battered suitcase, and smiling a bit awkwardly, obviously trying to hide her teeth, was a familiar dragon.

"Hey. Can I crash here for a bit?"

"...I think you already have. But come in."

The two went indoors, and Renko pulled up a chair. Kasen remained standing by the entrance, at once unsure of herself and tentatively happy. Renko poked at the vase of wilting narcissus in the center of the table. Kasen coughed slightly, and she looked over.

"What happened to your previous residence? Er, where were you staying before, actually?"

Renko gave a long-suffering sigh. "Argument. Well, not really an argument, just a conversation with someone being kind of dense. I thought coming to talk with a hermit might help clear my head."

"If you stay here, you'll have to help me with the garden." Kasen was trying hard not to beam. "Do you mind trimming roses?"

"Hmm..." Renko shook her head. "I mean, I can try, but before coming to Gensoukyou, I had never seen living roses before. I don't want to accidentally kill them."

"I'll teach you." Kasen took her hand gently and guided her outside.

It was strange. For all of her time with Koutei and smaller beings on the verge of becoming dragons, Renko was difficult to predict. Kasen supposed that it was simply that Renko was likely far older; all long-lived beings had personalities that changed with age, after all. And that one hadn't been easy to understand, either. But so mild-mannered, and yet so unwilling to listen to anything one had to say...

"Hey, this rosebush is rotting." Renko pointed at a completely normal-looking rosebush. "If you don't dig it up, it'll infect the others around it."

Kasen touched the stem. It gave way in her hand. She sighed. "Well, that's no good. I thought you hadn't remembered seeing roses before?"

"It's just common sense." Renko sighed. "Probably. Could you get a shovel? I'm not sure where they are."

Kasen returned from her dojo, holding a shovel. With the air of a trained professional, Renko shoved it into the newly-softened earth, cleanly excising the offending rosebush. She tossed it on the pile of clippings, then set the shovel down, and sat next to it.

"That's what the argument was about. You know."

Kasen sat next to her. "I don't really."

"What do you think about me, Kasen?" Renko looked straight at her. "Tell me the truth."

With the way that Renko phrased it, it seemed that she was convinced that she'd be able to tell if it wasn't. Well, Kasen was, after all, a rosebush. Maybe Renko had some kind of uncommon talent for analyzing them... but that would be strange, if she was who Kasen thought she was.

"I enjoy your company." Kasen said bluntly.

"The whole truth." Renko seemed unamused. "What am I to you?"

"To me?" Kasen folded her hands. "I see you as two things. A disciple, and an object of my hopes. I guess you could say you're a tool that I fear terribly falling into the wrong hands, but that would be overestimating how much control I think I have over you. You are a youkai, not an oni. I suppose there's a little disappointment mixed in there, too? It would be nice to be able to have you understand my point of view immediately. That's why I want to train you, so you don't end up falling down a dark path. You have power I don't— that I wouldn't even reunited with my arm. But you don't seem to understand that, and it frightens me a bit."

Renko looked glum. "If you were just flattering me, you wouldn't bring up that I frightened you. That's a shame."

"There are other reasons! And it's only a bit." Kasen put her bandaged hand on Renko's shoulder. "I like you, Renko. I think you're clever, and kind. I know you don't remember it, but I'm sure that in your former life, you must have given guidance to so many humans. Your wisdom is obvious even now. I'd like to help rejuvenate it."

"You really want me to be your disciple." Renko heaved a long sigh. "While complimenting my knowledge at the same time, no less. That's funny."

Kasen waved a hand. "I don't really think it's that contradictory to—"

Renko turned towards her, eyes narrowed. Suddenly, she lunged, grabbing at Kasen's collar. Kasen fell backwards, onto the soft earth. Renko followed, landing seated on Kasen's torso.

"Do you really want to teach me, or would you rather I be the teacher?"

Kasen looked to the side, blushing profusely. "I—I mean, if you have the knowledge to share, I'll gladly take it."

"Really? But you were so excited to take me as your disciple just earlier..." Renko grinned as she undid her bowtie and began to unbutton her shirt.

"I change my mind sometimes. Ah, my tabard..."

Renko's hand brushed against Kasen's chest as she moved to undo the ribbon holding it shut, and Kasen twitched. The silk slid to the ground softly, and suddenly her face felt very hot. Renko's hand slid under her shirt, and she made a small noise.

Renko paused. Kasen looked up at her, eyes half-closed. "What are you waiting for?"

Renko withdrew her hand. "This isn't right."

Kasen frowned. "This isn't about her, is it? I'll have you know, the number of partners she's—"

"I can't be what you want me to be." Renko shook her head. "I'm a youkai, Kasen. I'm not like you. I'm not like one of the benevolent and wise dragons from the continent."

"But you could—"

Renko stood, buttoning her shirt. "Sorry. I'm not the kind of creature who wants her arm cut off for the good of others." She turned. "I'm sure you think that I can change. But I don't want to. I don't want to be anyone's guiding light, I don't want to be special. I just want to live in the kind of world I want to live in, that's all."

She walked away towards the dojo. Kasen sat up and began to cry.

Chapter 23

Chapter Text

Up, up, and up.

The stars in the sky didn't get any closer. Of course not; why would they? Even the closest ones were dozens of human lifetimes away, moving at the speed of light. As spacetime remained visually in one unwarped piece ahead, the current speed certainly was nowhere near that. But below, the landscape fell further and further away. The faint lights of the human village faded into darkness, and even those brighter lights she could see outside the barrier began to melt away.

She was left in a trackless void, unable to see the world below her. The faded black dye entwined with the blended polymers of her cape and skirt failed to allow her to blend into it, the naturally reflective fibers shining in the full moon's already-reflected light. She caught a glimpse of her tail ribboning out behind her, the normally dark scales pearlescent blue-white. Even if no one was looking for her, she was conspicuous, wasn't she?

There was something conspicuous about the night sky tonight, though. Maybe she'd be able to hide in it for a while.

But even then, not forever. She looked down at her hands. One of them was still gripping Kasen's gardening shears. Even her own hands were betraying her, desperately giving her tools to do something, anything. It wasn't fair, really. All she'd ever wanted was to live in a beautiful world; and the world was beautiful. Nobody else could understand that, though. They couldn't see the obvious truth, so they acted as if she was some kind of supernatural being for pointing out basic facts.

Merry alone could also see the truth, but only the kind that wasn't obvious. The way everything was interconnected, how moving one piece of the foundation could topple an entire building. That wasn't fair, either. "That's the foundation of the building", "she's telling the truth about the location of that grave", "if I fall asleep here, I'll be able to see her again". Simple, obvious things anyone could see were true if they bothered to think. But nobody else could ever see what Merry saw. Even if you know that a boundary to another world is right there, there's no way a normal person could see that. No matter how much light pollution there was in the sky, you could still see the stars, if you really tried. You just needed your brain to understand that the interference was there, and you could see them again.

Maybe because Merry could see things that weren't obvious truths, she thought that anything one could see that others couldn't just couldn't be an obvious truth. But "it's 2:19:17 AM" was obvious to anyone. Keeping track of that was fundamentally a natural application of her brain.

She just couldn't communicate that, somehow.

What was the point in no longer allowing the beauty of the world to be bounded? No one would care, anyway. No matter how the everyday shone, no matter the magic you could encounter around any corner, no one else was interested in marveling at the world that already existed. Fitting the world within the bounds of what you thought was beautiful, becoming a prophet for the world that only you could see... Renko couldn't do any of that. All she could do was understand what was.

"Everyone is seeing slightly different worlds. Despite this, they can still communicate with each other." "All these efforts tend to lead it back to this aforementioned, from which it will always remain infinitely removed." Of the two, which was closer to the possibility that she could see? It wasn't hard to tell.

The conspicuous something in the night sky would solve the problem for her, so it didn't really matter. It was rounding the moon right about then, 384,000 kilometers from the Earth's surface. Maybe if she really were something special, she'd be able to stop it, but even so, she didn't want to. All there was ahead of her was failed communication and truths that didn't matter. It would be enough just to wait for it here.

Staring at the dim reflection next to the moon, she brushed her hair out of her face. It had grown more in the past week than in the rest of the time she'd spent in Gensoukyou. A mane, maybe? Still, it was a pain. If she was going to wait for the end of her world here, she'd rather be able to see it. The gardening shears in her hand gave her an idea, and she set to trimming the long hair around her face. A chunk of hair on the left side fell unevenly onto her cape, and she brushed it off. It fell down into the night. Oddly, as she watched its fall, it didn't disappear. If anything, as the strands of hair grew clearer and brighter as they separated from each other and fell towards Gensoukyou. Were they catching fire? But why? There was the fact that when youkai were killed they turned to dust... was it through combustion?

She brushed the thought aside, and continued cutting her hair. The portions around her face were easy to get to; it wasn't as if she'd ever trimmed them evenly in the first place. She did spend a little more time on the bangs; it wasn't as if anyone was going to see them, but there was some small bit of pride in her that said "even if I'm struck by a meteor, I want to go out presentable."

Well, not that it was actually going to strike her. At least, probably. She hadn't taken the time to think about what something with that trajectory would do, and frankly, she wasn't interested. It would strike the earth beneath where she stood, and that would be that.

Just as she thought this, no one made a noise.

From below, Renko heard a tired old voice. "Milady, are you sure those lights were the clue you've been looking for? The youkai you've fought so far heard nothing about it."

The sound of something hard colliding with wood. "I-told-you-so. Look up!"

"I would, milady, but I regret to inform that if I did, you would fall from my back. At this height, I might not be able to catch you."

"Hmph."

Renko waved absently as Hakurei Touka floated up to match her height. The shrine maiden had bags under her eyes and a sour look on her face as she shook her purification rod at Renko.

"Two in the morning! Can't you youkai cause incidents at any decent time of day? I'm supposed to solve them, you know."

Renko raised an eyebrow. "Incident?"

"The shooting stars! One of them went straight through the shrine roof in the middle of the night and woke me up. It set my cabinet on fire." Touka folded her arms. "What's the big deal?"

"Oh, those?" Renko thought for a moment, then shrugged. "You can think of them as a warning, if you want. A much, much larger meteorite is about to strike Gensoukyou, an hour or so from now. It'll flatten half of the place if you let it. So I was just letting everyone know."

Touka raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Well, in that case, thank you. I'll go find Suika, and she can—"

"You're not going to do that." Renko shook her head.

Touka jumped. "What? Yes I—"

"It's not an incident, so it's not your job to solve, is it?" Renko glanced up at the sky. It would be a while longer before the meteoroid was visible. "It must be nice."

"What must be nice?"

"Having a purpose that you're so easily able to fulfill."

"I'm not going to be able to fulfill it if I can't exterminate you, am I?"

Renko winked at her. "That's true. It would be pretty awful, being told the meaning you've built your life around was worthless, wouldn't it?"

Touka shrugged. "It is, though?"

A frown. "Hm?"

"I'm a replaceable part doing a job that I was assigned to by youkai. I'm preserving a world that's worse for humans than the alternative, without knowing if it'll ever get better. In the end, I'd help far more humans if I tried to properly exterminate all of you, even if I failed. But then someone else would end up with this job, and I'd be dead, and that wouldn't really be any fun, would it?" Touka grinned.

"That's weird. I didn't think you'd know about all that." Renko glanced upward again. Still invisible.

"I have a brain that I use." Touka leaned her purification rod on the turtle's head, and he grumbled a bit. "Also, I asked Yukari. She's pretty willing to tell the truth if you ask her anything directly. But she leads the conversation around so you can't ask her those things without being rude. She doesn't realize that I know it's fine to be rude to youkai, though."

"Aren't you thirteen?"

"No, I'm fourteen."

"Huh." Renko looked her up and down. The shrine maiden had become a little taller and more awkward after all. The only thing that had changed about Renko was her hair; and what remained of that was a dangling tuft behind her head where she hadn't managed to reach with the gardening shears. It was a little silly to sign up for eternal life at the end of the world, in hindsight, but it's not like she could have known. "So you are."

"You know, your warning was pretty damaging too. I saw fires in the village when I was flying here." Touka spun her purification rod. "I didn't have time to check if anyone was hurt. So, from my perspective, you've done nothing but cause extraneous damage and now you're stopping me from protecting the humans of Gensoukyou. The first definitely counts as an incident, and the second is my job too. If there's no one around for me to protect, the balance definitely can't be upheld!"

"Well, what are you going to do about it, then?" Renko said, turning away. The meteor should have been entering the upper atmosphere by now, but strangely, Renko couldn't see it. That was odd. She had been expecting its fireball to start tracing across the sky by now. It would still have a few minutes before it hit the ground, although...

What she wasn't expecting was for something heavy and hot to slam into her back without so much as a noise. Sparks flew into her vision, and she found herself spinning through the sky. Which direction were the heavens and which direction was the earth? She couldn't focus enough to tell, and the stars were revolving so quickly... There was a sense of familiarity in the object that had hit her, but—

She closed her eyes and fell. By the time she crashed through the branches below and slammed into the ground, she was already unconscious.

Chapter 24

Chapter Text

There was a shuffling of cloth, and something heavy on her chest and arms, spread-eagling her on a flat surface. She felt soreness spreading throughout her entire body, concentrating around the top of her head. Right, she'd fallen... The soreness would explain that, and there was obviously something on top of her. But what it couldn't explain was the funny pinching feeling she felt on her neck.

Renko opened her eyes.

An exceptionally beautiful face, inches from her own, picked up a pointed expression of disappointment. "Oh. I figured."

The weight disappeared from Renko's chest as the strange woman got up. She was wearing an impeccably cut and freshly pressed three-piece suit that would not have been out of place at a formal political event or gala, were it not for the fact that coat, waistcoat, and trousers were all different, clashing colors— red, yellow, and blue. And atop all that, she wore a completely incongruous black cartwheel hat, with frills and what looked like holly leaves overflowing from the brim. In her left hand there was a length of wire, casually looped over itself. Renko realized the pinching had gone from her neck.

Renko sat up and looked herself over. Her cape and skirt were in tatters, and her arms were covered in dried blood— presumably hers, from the fall. She didn't have any visible wounds, though, so it had been some time since she landed. Which meant that the meteor...

"You ruined my flower garden." The lovely girl said bluntly. She sat down in a rocking chair across from Renko, and set the wire down on the table beside her before pouring herself a drink of a dark brown liquid into a cut crystal glass. Renko looked around the room. It was a neatly arranged mixture of Western antiques from the past two centuries, barring a few extraneous trinkets like a kiseru sitting in its holder on a writing-desk. There were windows to the outside, but their curtains were drawn tightly shut. There was no way to tell if it was day or night in here, and the light from the kerosene lamps on the walls was dimmed as low as possible. Renko realized that she had been lying on a table covered in green fabric, with a few suspicious dark stains that had evidently been scrubbed out as well as the owner could manage. On the wall nearby hung a painting, the subject of which Renko couldn't determine, but looked like it was a rainstorm; on the far wall sat a bookshelf half-filled with books and the remainder filled with ornate, antique knives.

"Sorry."

The girl pointed to Renko's left authoritatively. She turned to look, and saw a phonograph. "Turn on the music for me."

Dutifully, Renko turned the handle for a bit, then let go. A tinny rag began to play, and the girl sighed.

"A favorite of yours?"

"Not really." The girl took a sip of her whisky. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Sure."

"Sit over there, then." She pointed to the armchair nearest the table.

Renko hesitantly took a seat, trying not to let any of the dried blood rub off onto the soft velvet. The girl poured her a drink and shoved it across the table at her with a smile.

"Poison doesn't work on me, you know." Renko took a sip. Certainly it tasted as if a fairly large amount of bitters had been added to the drink.

"I figured as much after you started moving. It doesn't work on me, either, but it would be stupid to waste the alcohol." The girl took a sip of her own. "You would have let me strangle you if it had a chance of working."

"All right?" Renko said, curiously.

"Or you would have hanged yourself already. That's not unusual for newborns." The girl took off her hat and set it on an ottoman. "The unnatural ones like you, that is."

"Oh."

"Spineless humans don't deserve to be allowed to quit their humanity. They understand that, and let me kill them without resisting before they're finished." She yawned, exposing pointed teeth. Not that Renko needed her suspicions confirmed. This girl was more youkai-like than half the other youkai she'd met. "Don't mind me, it's late. You, on the other hand, are pretending to be spineless."

The cheerful syncopated rhythm of the rag cut through the conversation.

"I don't follow." Renko rubbed the back of her neck and took another sip of the poisoned whisky.

"What I'm saying is that you're like me." The girl narrowed her eyes. "But because you're not natural, you never figured that out."

"Like you in what way?"

"There was a meteor shower that hit the village a few days ago. It started some nasty fires." She took a sip of whisky. "About fifty humans died in the ensuing blaze. How does that feel to know?"

The corner of Renko's mouth crooked up.

"That's what I thought." The girl wore a satisfied grin. "It's funny, right?"

Renko frowned. "I'm a youkai, so it's favorable for my own survival for it to be."

"Boo." The girl stood and twirled around. "It's so obvious, and you keep ignoring it. Do you want to die?" She walked over to the bookcase and picked up one of the knives, a short affair with an engraved brass handle that looked like it might once have been used for whittling. "Why is it funny, idiot?"

Renko folded her legs, ignoring the imprint of her shoes on the chair. "Is there blood on my face?"

"Obviously." The girl spun the knife tip-first on her finger. "Go on."

"Well, I don't know why it's funny. It just is."

"Yes you do." The girl threw the knife at Renko, handle-first, and she caught it easily. "What's that?"

"It's a knife."

"What's it do?"

"Cut things."

"No it doesn't." The girl leaned against the wall. "It sits there, because knives don't think and can't move. But you or I can cut things with it. It's the power to cut things, if you want."

"I suppose so." Renko cut into the wood of the table beside her, keeping eye contact with the girl the entire time. "The point is?"

The girl threw up her hands in frustration. "The point is that you're a knife because you wanted to be a knife, you moron. You wanted power, and you got it, and it makes you feel good to have it." She picked up another knife and pointed it at Renko. "And it makes you feel good to use it on others, because of what it proves. You're a youkai because you want to be."

"I don't really have power, though." Renko shrugged.

"I wasn't born yesterday."

"I didn't cause that meteor shower on purpose."

The girl tossed another knife in her direction with an irritated expression. Renko dodged it and it bounced off the wall limply. "And I didn't behead my first victim on purpose. Except, obviously, I did. Since I was happy with it. And wanted it. It was fun."

"I don't really understand why you're angry at me. It's not like I don't eat humans."

"I'm angry at you because you wanted more than I did, and got more than I did, and act like you didn't want or get anything." The girl sat back down in her rocking chair with a sigh, playing with the knife. "I have my own reasons why I want you to get a grip, but even you should know how ambitious you are at this point, what with your throwing a tantrum killing fifty people. You're so dense."

"I mean, it would be nice to be able to show them all the truth, but I can't. I can only make things a little easier, and that's just because of—"

"You can, though." The girl leaned forward in her seat. "Because you matter more than anyone else, you fool. You became a youkai because you know that that's true. But you became a youkai because nobody else can fulfill your ambitions for you. For the same reason that eating a corpse someone left on the side of the road isn't as fulfilling as eating one you slaughtered yourself."

"But if I can't consciously do what I want, isn't it pointless to try?"

"You can. You knew that would happen." The girl put her face in her hands. "You keep denying that you can do and know things on purpose because that would mean that you have to do them. But that's the antithesis of everything that you are, and you know that."

"How is that the case?" Renko finished her whisky. Somehow, she felt calm, despite this conversation touching on the same old topics that nobody was willing to give her a break on. Perhaps it was because there was no way for a random youkai in the middle of the woods to know all of this, and so it couldn't be real?

"Why do humans scream for help when they're in danger?"

Renko blinked. "I mean, they don't always—"

"Oh, shut up with the technicalities." The girl stuck her tongue out at Renko. "You know what I mean."

"Humans are social animals. When one of them is in danger, the rest of them come to help it."

"Right. Humans scream for help because they think they'll get it. They think that other humans will bring them the things that they want, that they'll be able to fill their bellies and stay out of danger and maybe even find themselves if they just get the help of other humans. That's the promise humanity brings you." The girl leaned on the arm of the chair. "A human who becomes a youkai is someone who has given up on that promise, but hasn't given up on her goals. For example, a human who wants a bustling life of fortune, but who keeps falling and falling through the lower rungs of society. A human who's perfectly happy to sacrifice everything to make herself happy, because no one else will do it for her." She smiled. "A human like you and me."

"All I have to do to fulfill my goals is to realize that nobody else is going to do it for me?"

The girl frowned. "Of course not! But you'll never manage it unless you accept that nobody else is going to do it for you. That no matter how much you cry for help, nobody will come. And that all it'll take to do it is to shred everything that they want to pieces. Forever."

Renko looked down at the floor and closed her eyes. "I can do that."

The humans who wouldn't acknowledge the magic right in front of them. The humans who couldn't accept any new knowledge. The humans who decided that they would only see what was convenient, even when it was obvious that there was something horribly wrong with it. The humans who drove the world to the brink of destruction over and over again over the past hundreds and thousands of years because they just weren't willing to look at anything. It didn't matter what they wanted, or what they thought was possible.

Renko would just have to force them to see it. And if that made her something unimaginably powerful, well, that was only a failure of imagination on the part of everyone else, wasn't it? It wasn't like they couldn't be like her. It was that they wouldn't be like her. Because they didn't want it badly enough, and therefore, they didn't deserve it. She deserved the power to expose to the world what actually lay beneath its weak, frail surface. She smiled.

Renko opened her eyes.

She was sitting in a clearing in the middle of the forest, bruised and battered, broken branches all around her. Slowly, she stood up and turned around. The house she had been in was gone, as was the girl. She turned, stretched, and took off into the morning sky, towards the place only she could know without seeing. Towards home.

Chapter 25

Chapter Text

With a soft thump, Renko fell face-forward onto the floor. Her battered porkpie hat, having managed to tear itself enough, escaped from her horns and rolled across the room on its brim.

It stopped before falling, and was picked up and set in someone's lap.

"Good evening." The tone was affectionate.

"Uuuugh." Renko groaned, then propped herself up on her arms. "Hello."

Yukari smiled at her, head rested on folded hands propped up on the table. Her hair was pinned up, but a few strands had escaped from her updo, and the skin under her eyes had taken on the violet tint that Renko remembered from a few years ago, when she hadn't slept so much. On the table, there was an instant camera, and next to it, a few pieces of paper, probably developed images.

"You've been working hard, haven't you?"

Renko begrudgingly dragged herself a few meters across the tatami, coming to rest with her head on the cushion beside Yukari's lap. She rolled over onto her back. "You should call me an idiot sometimes, for variety."

"Hmm. Too bad. Ridiculous, yes, self-defeating, yes, but you're not allowed to take back the Planck comment, I'm afraid." Yukari ruffled her bangs. "I won't hesitate to tell you that you look dreadful, though. Surely there are better ways to foretell doom. What did you use to cut it?"

"Gardening shears. About the doom—" Renko sat up briefly. Yukari placed a hand on her forehead and pushed her back down before dangling an instant photograph above her face.

"There was an interesting event in the outside world. A meteorite impact that flattened a few dozen square kilometers of forestin the mountains east of Suwa. According to local authorities, it was a miracle that it landed in an uninhabited area."

Renko grabbed the photograph by its corner. It captured an image of what had been a forest in the early morning, but was now a shallow crater, filled to the brim with fog or steam. It was hard to tell. From the few trees that still stood around its edge, the crater appeared to be a few kilometers across. The photo's perspective— high above the brim— would only make sense to be taken while flying, but there were no indications of machinery in the image. Yukari had taken it herself.

"That is to say, you were correct." The I-told-you-so air of Yukari's voice was characteristic of her correcting Renko on something, rather than acknowledging her contributions.

Renko groaned. "Yukari, I just came home. Do we have to—"

Yukari poked her forehead with her fan. "I spent the better part of a week looking for you only to find that you'd killed a dozen families of my villagers to show off. If you weren't you, you'd be in big trouble right now. You can be honest with yourself as a bit of community service."

"This is cruel and unusual punishment."

"Unfortunately, Gensoukyou doesn't have laws." Yukari pinched her cheek. "So?"

"I'll have you know, I've done plenty of soul-searching already." Renko gestured at her hair. "I thought this through, even. You see, back in the first Age of Science—"

The corner of Yukari's mouth twitched.

"—philosophers and scientists who wanted to expose the foundations of the world were commonplace, and they wore their hair like this. So if you really think about it—"

Yukari started to giggle.

"—I'm just showing my willingness to expose the truth even if no one else can see it here." Renko began cracking up. "So I was thinking—" she laugh-hiccuped— "I was thinking that I'd start powdering it next. What do you think?"

Yukari doubled over. "Renko, it's—"

"It's perfect?" Renko's cheeks hurt from laughing. "I knew you'd say that. You always want the best for me."

"It's off-center, Renko. It's longer towards your right shoulder."

Renko raised an eyebrow, closing her lips in a very serious frown. "What, you don't know? It's obviously asymmetrical because I'm not a human philosopher trying to get everything she sees to fit her preconceived notions of reality. It's natural when exposing the truth for some things to get a little off-kil— Ow!"

Yukari had grabbed Renko's tail and was holding it in her mouth. Eyebrows raised, she grinned at Renko, and Renko felt her teeth dig in a little bit more. She swatted at her in the air, and Yukari dropped it, still grinning.

"I'm glad that you decided to come back here."

Renko, nursing her poor tail, still responded immediately. "I'm glad I did, too. Well, that and the series of events that allowed me to return. It wouldn't have helped much if I came back still determined to make you do everything for me. I mean, I knew that from the start, but..." She shrugged. "You know there's a difference between knowing and understanding."

"I understand that, yes." Yukari rested her head back in her hands. "You were so very persistent about it, too. It was funny at first, with you naming that spell card of yours Maxwell's Demon, of all things, but I never thought that it would take you over a year to understand the very foundation of your being. It's... well. It was a little cute." She winked. "And of course you wanted to go and expose the esoteric immediately, without even knowing why. That, I admit, was something I didn't expect. Pushing up my plans by that far... well, it's fine. All sorts of astronomical measurements have tens of thousands of years of error bar. You're relatively tame, by comparison."

Renko put a hand on her forehead dramatically. "I'm not Laplace's demon, though."

"Well, I never—" Yukari began indignantly.

"For that to be the case, the universe would have to be deterministic. It obviously isn't. Just because I know everything that I need to know doesn't mean that I know the things I don't know. For example, if I were Laplace's demon, I'd be able to tell two different pieces of reality that occupy the same physical space apart from each other when predicting an event like that. But because the universe doesn't follow logic like that, I can't." Renko sat up and leaned on the table. "I'm the closest thing to it that can exist, though."

Yukari smiled slightly. "Would you really say that those are two pieces of reality? After all, this is Gensoukyou. Not being able to tell them apart might simply be because one of them doesn't truly exist."

"They both exist, because I can experience them. Anything that I can see with my own two eyes is real." Renko pointed to her eyes. "That's how I could tell that your dreams weren't really dreams, because when we traveled to Torifune, and when you covered my eyes at Zenkou-ji, there was nothing strange about it. Even though it was unstable, it was fundamentally real. This illusion, too, is real, a truth surpassing anything you can measure with instrumentation."

"Hmm? But isn't the truth just what humans think is true?" An obviously leading question, asking for an explanation.

"Why?" Renko picked up the camera and focused the viewfinder on Yukari. "Since when were they allowed to make that choice? Oh, sure, they can invent as many truths as they want. But you don't think it's fair for them to erase the truths they don't like either, do you? Otherwise you would never have created Gensoukyou." She clicked the shutter. A piece of film slid out of the bottom, and Renko caught it by the edge, shaking it a little. Yukari's sharp expression and relaxed pose, the pile of books and the scroll and oil painting on the wall behind her, and the color of the tatami and the wood were all there in the image, developed through a chemical exposure process, built by human hands. "You know what youkai are, don't you? We're inconvenient, incomprehensible truths. Before, humans pushed those truths behind the veil of the supernatural, just like they viewed themselves as separate from and above nature. Now, humans want to think that they are nature, so any truth of it that doesn't align with what they are has to be erased entirely."

Renko looked into Yukari's eyes, and for the first time she could remember, really held her gaze. Those eyes truly were sickening. It felt like there was nothing at all behind them but a roiling, constantly shifting void; a void that wanted something, but you couldn't tell what it wanted. All you could tell was that it saw how to get it. All youkai, of course, were fairly bad at hiding their predatory nature, especially in their eyes; but just looking at Yukari, you could tell that she wanted something more than that. That suspicious smile of hers had been something she'd worn since they had met, since long before Renko could identify what exactly unsettled her about it. But it was so obviously wrong, despite the way that she'd carried herself, a paragon of society's virtues, polite and intelligent. Renko had wondered back then what her own gaze looked like, when Merry had called it creepy, if Merry's had looked like that. But she knew now.

"Your eyes really are the worst." Yukari laughed.

"Same to you." Renko sighed happily.

"Hey, when you expose the truth... I wonder how thankful humanity will be." Yukari tilted her head to the side. "After all, you'll be saving them from that false enlightenment of theirs, and bringing them to the true fount of knowledge. They love to write stories about that sort of thing, you know? Either they resist the truth at first or accept it like life-giving water instantly, but they're all grateful for it in the end. Else it drives them mad, which I admit might be funny. But it can't possibly hurt them in a mundane way. That would be narratively unsatisfying, after all."

"It would be, wouldn't it?" Renko played with a strand of her hair. "It's not like they would see it as a punishment, or try to ignore it, or desperately escape from it. Humans don't have any trouble staying set in their ways. There's no way that something so simple as a little bit of incontrovertible knowledge that they already had could do something like shatter their world."

"It would be awful to subject them to something like that." Yukari's voice increased in pitch slightly. "Dreams and reality are the same, you know? Surely no one would lie about such a foundational piece of their philosophy of understanding the world. If they were lying, that might mean that contaminating their reality with dreams could have a terribly cruel result."

"But, of course, that wouldn't happen. All they need is to see that the world is already beautiful." Renko smiled wide. "They don't need something like a guiding light to tell them that!"

There are many, many inconvenient truths in this world. "Not everyone will accept you." "You need to keep breathing in order to live." "There's no such thing as a utopia." "Inevitably, you will die someday." And many more. Humans like to make their peace with these truths in various ways, usually by wrapping them in much softer lies. But they stalk on the edges of the mind, forever, until the inescapable end. Knowing them brings no comfort, and yet, in the course of life, every human will come to understand them. These truths are curses, portents of calamity. But just like with monsters, they can be sealed away and forgotten in the beauty of human creation. Most of the time.

If humans began to approach truly knowing everything, how terribly cruel the world would be to them!

Chapter 26

Chapter Text

Renko set the book down on the counter with a loud thud. The threads binding it, having begun to wear thin, complained with a creak. She glared at it.

"If you have a problem with how you were made, complain to the person who made you, not me." On the other hand, since she was using it, it would take a while for it to be able to do that. That was the trouble with trying to become a tsukumogami in a house like this. Just when you thought you'd been forgotten, someone would come pick you up again.

Or maybe it was comforting. Who knew?

Either way, the cookbook's feelings on the matter weren't really relevant. She dusted off the rest of the counter with a damp towel, set out a cutting board, and cracked the book open to the marked page. There were a couple of recipes that she was familiar with as being "simple, but impressive", and it had been obvious as soon as she'd seen it that this book contained some of them. A cursory search had proved her right as always, and she'd covertly gotten her hands on some mushrooms and tomatoes to prepare for this day. (As for the onions, there were already plenty in the house.)

Why keep it a secret that she was learning how to cook? She didn't know exactly, but it probably had something to do with the fact that she was wearing her third-best skirt (that didn't really fit) and a blouse that she'd last worn in high school. After she'd shredded her best, Yukari had effortlessly repaired her hat, yet when Renko had asked her to do the same for the clothes, she'd wagged her finger in Renko's face and told her "There's no dystopia more dull than a world where everything works out exactly as everyone wants it, Renko." She had then confiscated them to repair manually.

So yes, it was probably pride. A natural trait for a youkai, of course.

But as she spread out the thin cuts of meat in a pan on the counter, she felt her confidence flagging a bit. She knew what different cuts of steak looked like— theoretically, anyway; most lab-grown meat tended to be a little hom*ogeneous— but she'd no idea where it came from on the animal. And never mind the substitution; it wasn't as if the recipe expected you to use A5 wagyu or anything, but the differences in fat content could be a little much...

An acrid stench let her know that the oil in the pan she'd set on the stove had started to smoke. She quickly turned down the heat, then transferred the meat to the pan. Only after doing so did she realize that she'd forgotten to add salt and pepper, and tossed some in.

She set to dicing the tomatoes, getting the pulp all over her blouse. Even with knives this sharp, she realized too late, it would have been better to go for a serrated option. Nonetheless, she soldiered on to the onions and the mushrooms, only pausing to remove the meat from the stovetop. She hadn't been able to find the wine, so after a bit, she decided to simmer the vegetables in sake instead.

After unsuccessfully eyeballing the amount of flour to add to the juices and oil in the skillet, she contributed the remainder of the butter, creating a staggering volume of roux. She did manage to add that to the vegetables without spilling it, however, and a few minutes later, it was happily simmering away. She hadn't been able to find sour cream without asking Yukari, so instead, she added creme fraiche, vinegar, and spicy English mustard. Perhaps a little too much mustard; in a few minutes, the concoction had begun to take on a yellow color. She added the meat back in, and was just taking it off the heat when the door slid open behind her.

"That smells nice."

Yukari flounced into a seat at the table expectantly. She set a package down on the floor next to her.

"You're home at a convenient time."

"I heard from Ran that you were cooking."

Renko, ladling the dish onto plates, looked over her shoulder. "Oh? Will she be here tonight?"

"Not at all. In fact, she's been spending quite a bit of time in the Beast Realm recently... I do wonder about her." Yukari laughed a little.

Considering Yukari's usual feelings towards others, Renko found it difficult to believe that the worry was for the sake of Ran's well-being. She raised an eyebrow at her as she set the table, placing a small vase with a pair of aster flowers in the center of it. Then she sat, steepling her fingers in front of her face.

"I'd like you to try it first."

"Ah, so if you've erred greatly enough to poison me, you don't have to suffer as well?" Yukari grinned, placing her hands together. "Well, I suppose I can make one more sacrifice for you. Thank you for the meal."

Yukari lifted a forkful of meat and pasta to her mouth, and took a bite. She chewed tentatively, then swallowed. "Hm."

"How is it?"

"Try a little yourself and tell me your opinion." Yukari gestured to Renko's dish. Renko followed suit, picking up a small bite of stroganoff and giving it a taste.

"Hmm."

"I mean, it's certainly edible..." Yukari trailed off. She politely took another bite.

The flavor really wasn't anything to speak of. Instead of the taste of fresh-cooked meals that Renko had gotten used to while in Gensoukyou, it was more reminiscent of one of the more mediocre items at the restaurants on the university campus. The balance of flavors was off, and there was a hint of trying too hard that gave it a vague air of artificiality. Even the meat felt like it had been drowned out by the sauce. At the same time, though, Renko cringed at the idea of wasting something that she'd worked so hard for. She gulped down a few more glum mouthfuls.

Yukari gave her a sympathetic look, and Renko felt a lump forming in her throat.

"I'm sorr—"

Yukari reached over the table and put a finger on her lips. "Shh."

Renko rubbed her eyes. "I want all these things, and I think I can have them because you tell me I can, but when I try to do anything, it's just miserable. This is cafeteria food. Why is it so easy for you?"

"Easy?" Yukari tilted her head to the side. "You mean the first time I tried cooking on my own without the conveniences of human society, and got distracted for long enough that when I came back the corpse that I'd so painstakingly butchered was nothing but cinders? Or the time a few decades later that I tried to make noodles, but didn't know how much flour one was meant to use, and my soup was filled with lumps of uncooked flour clinging to the overcooked and stringy noodles? Or the time fifty years ago that I added four times the necessary amount of salt to my recipe and Chen didn't come home for a year over it? It wasn't even a salt merchant that I'd mauled to death. Or the time—"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Renko shoved her plate away.

"Saying that it was edible was a compliment, Renko. I mean, have you made anything besides ramen and toast before?" Yukari looked a little embarrassed. "Honestly, at this rate, you'll be catching up to me in a century. I'll have to step up my game. Maybe macarons..."

"Well, I had a kitchen. And a cookbook." Renko rubbed the back of her neck.

"You're full of excuses, aren't you?" Brushing Renko's hair aside, Yukari reached behind her ear and pulled out a steamed bun. "Here. Eat something."

Renko wolfed it down and wiped her face. "What do you think I did wrong, though? I followed all the directions in the cookbook, but..."

"But it didn't come out right? That comes with experience. But if I had to say, there are a few simple improvements that you could make." Yukari raised a finger with each one. "Firstly, the sour cream. You approximated it, didn't you? Unfortunately, this recipe in particular is a Russian form of the dish, which means that it uses smetana, not the sour cream or creme fraiche that you're used to. Secondly, the mustard content is good, but you really didn't need to add any vinegar. Thirdly, you undercooked the onions and tomatoes a bit— I recommend sauteing them to start with. They should form a sort of paste. Fourthly, you didn't really use the correct cut of meat. Pork belly, for example, is seen as a good accompaniment for soups, but in a dish like this, where you're searing the meat before simmering it, rib meat is best. And finally, the meat itself was not really of the best quality. But as you were intending to surprise me, I suspect I can't fault you for that last."

"Yukari, can I ask you a question?"

"What on Earth would I do to stop you?"

"Why didn't I know any of that when I was cooking? I know that you couldn't expect the average youkai to make a dish like that on her first try, but with my ability..." Renko put her chin in her hand. "It feels a little bad."

"Matters of taste aren't objective, Renko. Even if everyone on Earth hates the dish that you made, it's not an objective fact that it's 'bad'. I wonder if your ability helped you make something that wasn't actively poisonous or burnt, though?" Yukari glanced down at her bowl. "That would also explain why the meat you chose wasn't particularly good. That is, after all, something each youkai learns over time, aligned with her own tastes... and I admit I am remarkably picky."

"The rest makes sense, but I chased him for half an hour. If he wasn't thoroughly frightened after that, what am I supposed to do?" Renko sighed. "I have to admit that your catches do taste better, though."

Yukari beamed. "Well, I do have plenty of experience, after all! There are the standard considerations to make as with any animal, of course— young and physically healthy individuals will often have the best texture— but there are other emotional considerations to make besides that of raw fear, too. Humans who are emotionally troubled— for example, who have recently experienced unfortunate events, or those who are suicidal— tend to be more flavorful. But perhaps more important than all of those is an emotional connection."

"Emotional connection?"

"As we are stories ourselves, taking in pieces of a story that has been composed about us feels good. It can be something as simple as an ingrained fear of youkai, built up over one's entire life, rather than just engendered within a few minutes; it can be something as complex as preexisting love or trust for you specifically. Or, interestingly, it can be a connection to the idea of youkai as a whole through distancing oneself from humanity. There are more, of course, but those tend to be especially effective."

"That... makes sense."

"You're fairly lucky, though. You intend to establish an emotional connection to all of humanity rather soon, don't you? That should make hunting much easier for you." Yukari was fiddling with the flowers.

"Oh, that counts?" Renko's tail twitched. "That's exciting. But—"

"Well, I don't know for certain, but I imagine they'll all have some emotional reaction to such an event. And since you're a fairly strong youkai, I expect you'll be able to afford even more pickiness." She shrugged mischievously. "Not as much as me, though!"

"—That's what I'm worried about. I don't really know how humanity will react to it, and with what I think I know about my ability, there's no way for me to predict that. They might just ignore it."

"And why do you care about that? Whether they accept the unknown swiftly or slowly, they'll eventually be forced to learn to live with it. Isn't that the whole point of your ideals? Exposing the barriers that surround this world, whether humans want to know about them or not? It's not like it will have a material effect on the outcome."

"It would be pretty annoying if they just kept on living like nothing had changed, though."

"That's where we come in, isn't it? Logical proof of the world's loss of logic, underlined with violence. It doesn't matter if you don't know the second- and third-order effects, because you know that the important portions will work, no?"

"I guess, but I want it to be perfect right away. Because the world is already beautiful."

"You'll have to learn to make some excellent stroganoff awfully quickly if you want that to happen."

Renko laughed. "All right, I get it. Perfection doesn't come immediately, so if I want to do things immediately rather than waiting for someone else to do them for me, I have to accept that they won't be perfect?"

"You're so clever, Renko. But speaking of our plans, that outfit of yours is awfully drab, isn't it? I brought you a gift, if you'd like to take a look at it."

Yukari held up the package that had been sitting beside her, and Renko took it.

Chapter 27

Chapter Text

I opened my eyes.

That is to say, I really opened them. Before, it had been like staring off into the middle distance— I could see what was there, of course, but I couldn't see it. Or well, I didn't. It's probable that I've been able to just see anything that is there for my entire life, like Merry and her boundaries, but my memory has always been imperfect, and worrying at it is no help now that I know it.

It was 7:52:56 PM on August 7, 2156. In Kyoto, it would be one of the hottest nights of the year, if not the hottest. There had been few days in August with nights below thirty degrees as long as I had lived. Conversely, to hear Yukari tell it, she remembered years where it would barely scrape twenty in the evenings.

Nonetheless, as much as things have changed, some things stay the same. Kyoto is a "spiritual" city, which is to say it's the cultural heart of Japan that dresses itself up in the ideological fad of the era. Shinto, Buddhism, tourism, physics, psychiatry. Whatever its human residents think they need. It's more or less superficial, though; the festivals and excuses that the people of the city make to get together and take time off of their busy lives have been pretty similar for a millennium. Today is one of them, the first night of Tanabata. As I looked out the window, I saw her standing in the garden, tying a blue paper slip to one of the stands of bamboo. She glanced over at me, and disappeared.

I closed the curtains and clothed myself with some delicacy. Normally, I would be far more efficient, but I wanted to look presentable. I was meeting with an illustrious figure tonight, after all. Better not to risk tearing the seams— or, for that matter, the embroidery— by tugging it on too fast. The Hertzsprung-Russell diagram on the skirt had felt like a little much at first, but it played well with the lining of itself and my cape. Meanwhile, I was embroidered on the waistcoat, and that silly meteor on the cape. Well, it could have been Dubhe, I supposed; the detail wasn't such that one could tell them apart, and they were similar in color. Humans did call meteors shooting stars. (Ever since that particular day, I had been wondering if one could forge a sword out of my hair, or if the metaphor didn't extend that far.)

I brushed my hair sloppily. Though drag wouldn't have any impact on it in subatmospheric conditions, jerk would, and I could tell that there would be plenty of that when entering the gravitational field of a star. Yukari would fix it for me, later; neither she nor I knew how long I would remain in human form when making my initial approach, though I had some theories. That change would certainly ruin my hair, if not necessarily my clothes; my mane (or my hair, whatever the case might be) was always a bedraggled mess upon change, and I didn't know why. Yukari sometimes suggested that it had something to do with my self-conception, and I couldn't find it in myself to deny it. I certainly didn't live up in either appearance or action to the philosopher-scientists that I idolized in my youth, not least because guessing at the results and being correct without being able to prove it was the work of magicians, not physicists. In theory, anyway. Some of us were astrophysicists.

I gave a last look at the mirror— I would be coming back here soon enough, anyway— and headed out to the porch where Yukari was waiting to finalize our preparations.

She was standing there, silhouetted against the sky, with her back to me. She was dressed far more formally than I was; with all of the frills and the conspicuous hexagram at the front— five long lines above, then a broken line below— the thought crossed my mind for a moment that she could have trouble in the crowds. But then again, who would trouble her?It wasn't as if gaudiness was a crime, and no one she would be meeting would know about any of the others.

A shining, twinkling light appeared in the sky for a brief instant, all on its own, then fell. She turned over her shoulder to look at me.

"You don't have to be so impatient about getting my attention, Renko."

"The Perseids have occurred for as long as I can remember whether I've wanted them to or not. If it's my impatience showing, then I've been impatient all my life."

"And haven't you?"

I have, but it shouldn't affect meteor showers. At least, not all meteor showers. The comet Swift-Tuttle hasn't stopped existing because I've begun to exist as I am. Gensoukyou's weather is primarily affected by the weather of the Outside; while there are factors which aren't incorporated as much, like the temperature difference and that meteor, generally, when it's raining on Aka-dake, it's raining on Youkai Mountain. The difference is down to what humans make of it.

Of course, I was standing here on earth, but Yukari and I could both see the Big Dipper and Polaris in the sky above. They appeared the same as they had always been, pale blue-white lights in the distant reaches of the galaxy. Though we were within the world of illusions, the "true" stars were those that we could observe. Just as the surface of the moon reflected in the water doesn't mean that the true full moon has gone off and hidden itself somewhere...

"There's a solution to that."

Yukari raised an eyebrow at me. "Already? I thought that you had some questions remaining about the logistics?"

"I did. But when I woke up, I realized that it would all work out anyway, so."

"On the correct timescale, I wonder?"

Dubhe, what youkai call my eye, is approximately 123 light-years from Earth, while Polaris' location is between 430 and 450. Traveling by physically possible means, I would spend the flower of my youth floating through empty space. But in the eyes of humans, the two were so close that you could spread out your hand and cover them both; it wouldn't make sense, intuitively, for movement between them to be any slower than a meteorite's fall. As my travel was planned to be fully within the illusionary world, we had hoped that it would take the same amount of time. But there was no way to know.

"On the correct timescale. Come on. I know you're enjoying yourself watching the meteor shower, but I promise that I'll have a grander showing for you... At some point. I'm not so sure about that timescale."

Yukari and I walked back inside. I carried my shoes with me; though it wasn't likely I'd be treading on uneven ground (or any ground at all, actually) I wanted to look the part of someone going on a journey.

We returned to the bedroom. The mirror there, as usual, was just an ordinary mirror. The room behind us, reflected in it dimly in the evening light, was as ordinary as it had ever been.

Even using these methods, the world on the other side of the mirror was familiar, after all. There were certainly no living chess pieces or carpenters floating out in space. Though there might have been a teapot. Contrary to the notion I'd held in my head as a child, I was already within the world beyond the looking-glass.

I placed my hand on the glass, and looked over at Yukari expectantly. Rather than immediately follow my request, though, she first leaned over, hugged me, and gave me a kiss. She pulled out a handkerchief and, as if sending off a ship, waved it at the mirror, on which a widening dark spot began to appear. The spot— looking like nothing more than it did a hole in the glass— came to take my shape. The illusion of the illusionary seven stars had become a gate to truth.

The place where my hand touched the mirror lost its substance, and it started to fall through. Not wanting to become separated from it, the rest of me followed, and— with a smile— I plunged alone into that gap in space-time.

The first thing that I noticed when I emerged was the cold. It wasn't like the chill of winter, which permeated my entire body, and made me feel so utterly exhausted; in fact, it didn't really reach me at all. When I put my hands together, they were warm as ever. But around me, the world felt like I'd plunged once again into that icy river. Well, I say the world, but...

The area of space I was in was remarkably empty. Not that empty— this was still within an arm of the Milky Way, rather than in between them— but the locales surrounding the Sun are remarkably sparse, for interstellar space. And even drifting linearly as I was, I couldn't pick out my location— well, it would make sense for me not to face Earth, and if I wasn't facing Earth, I couldn't see the moon. Though, if I thought about it, I had a "moon" of my own, in a sense— α UMa β is proportionally far larger than the Earth's moon in comparison to Dubhe. But my mind steadfastly refused to acknowledge that, which made sense. It wasn't as if I could see a binary star orbiting around my head.

But that was on the right track. I twisted my body around, catching a glimpse of the tip of my tail— was the tuft there drifting towards me? And I couldn't just dismiss that as iridescence— looking to catch a glimpse of a certain bright red star. And then I glimpsed it— speeding away through space, an orange-red glow. I felt a little sorry for it. First it was ejected from its nebula, now I'm not even interested in it, I'm interested in its companion. But I did have work to do, so I tore my eyes away from Betelgeuse and looked towards Rigel. The ternary star system did its job; while I'd worried that I would make an inference like "I was on the moon" or something like that, I got my ascension, declination, and distance from Earth. From that, I found that I had 132 parsecs to travel. (Nine hours, and thirty degrees.)

If I could see it, that was. I had probably emerged looking at the pole star; if I just spun around again, I would be able to find it. Slowly and carefully, I turned in the void. I could not see it. I turned again. Again, it did not appear. On the third rotation, I felt my anger starting to build. Was that the point of all this? That it didn't need to flee if it just looked like every other star? That I'd tie myself into a knot looking for it, tangle myself up in my own tail?

I took a deep breath of nothing in particular, and slapped the side of my face to clear my head. It hurt more than usual, though, and when I pulled my hand away, it had gotten stuck on something. A whisker.

That was it. If the celestial dragon is the one who devours the north star, then to have the best chances of doing so, I'd need to fit the part as much as I possibly could. I had thought about that, before, but I had dismissed it; what would I be doing, getting in a fight? As if. The obstacles in front of me were nothing that simple. In fact, they were even more simple.

I closed my eyes for a moment, and felt the last vestiges of my human form slip away. When I opened them, I was a great, shining serpent— and there in front of me, a tiny, flickering light, the same color as the sun. I knew that it was the unmoving star, and lunged across the night sky...

Coughing through clouds of stellar dust, I tore through what looked to be empty space. The illusions built up by spectroscopic photography had intensified it, creating great clouds of red, pink, and green. In the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something moving; I pressed on. The star was bigger now.

I began to get the feeling that the space around me was alive; the things in the corner of my eye hadn't stopped moving, and I thought I heard childish laughter. I understood, then, that these were fairies; little agglomerations of stardust, not yet large enough to shine, nor to be worshiped or feared. The nebula I was charging through must have been their playground. I didn't feel the least bit bad about disturbing it.

I passed under something that looked a bit like a silvery tail; when I looked back up, it was gone. The western constellation, Draco; if I had existed in this form back when it was young, surely by now I would be nothing but an illusion. Being so close to the light of the pole star couldn't be good for it, either. Perhaps that was why it was forgotten so soon, when dragons are still remembered in legends.

Leaving the center of the arm of the Milky Way behind me, I burst into interstellar space. Polaris shone ahead of me, the size of the sun in the daytime sky. The same color, too; it was as if I had come back to the Solar System.

But as I drew closer, I felt it; this star was not the Sun. The latter tried to purge one from existence, with its life-giving light; the former, instead, was trying to draw me in.

What awaited me if I simply allowed it? Annihilation? Deification? Syncreticism? There had been moves in the Edo period to treat the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper as two parts of the same deity. Perhaps that's what it wanted?

I pulled back. The star filled a quarter of my vision, now. I had the perfect opportunity to charge in and strike, but there was something about its shape... it wasn't spherical. Well, of course it wasn't— it wasn't actually a ball of plasma at all, but the ideas surrounding that ball of plasma. But its shape— vague, flickering, humanoid— gave me pause.

It looked at me, and I saw its face. It was my own.

Defensive mimicry? Well, for something that sees itself as a nemesis of youkai, it would only be fair for it to pick the opposite tactic. And perhaps against a youkai who had been born a youkai, it would have been effective. But I had already killed "me", dozens of times. My own appearance was not so dissimilar to other humans that I could not see myself there. I had overcome it already.

I began to circle it. It put on a frustrated expression. When I inevitably blinked, though, its form had changed again. To her.

Glowing like an angel and smiling like one too, Merry— the human Merry, not the Merry of today— looked at me expectantly. I could tell what she was trying to say. "You cared about me, Renko, not any of the unknown barriers we exposed together. If you do this, how many people will lose that? How many loves will be lost when you shatter this false peace? Your suffering is not without meaning, but is unilaterally imposing it on others really worth it? What will you be making better by doing this? What is the meaning of your actions?"

Of course, Merry would never say anything of the sort.

I charged and bit down, my mouth filling with heat and light. For a moment, the area was suffused with darkness.

Then, the world exploded.

Chapter 28

Chapter Text

Smoothly-paved narrow streets, without a single visible imperfection. Carefully manicured trees, with vines hanging off of them just so, give the impression of liveliness, as do the groups of friends walking at the side of the road, chatting quietly, backpacks slung over a single shoulder. There's not a single argument to be seen; all the buildings are engineered to produce the perfect amount of shade to counteract the hot summers, so there's no need to get hot under the collar like most humans do when they're exposed to too much sunlight, even though it's far warmer here than it ever was in Tokyo. As far as anyone can tell, here, if nowhere else, a complete recovery has been made from the past century's struggles. To its residents, gathered from around the nation, Kyoto was the Pure Land itself.

What a dull, dreary, hopeless city. Collecting the fragments of tattered clothes and sewing them together into a beautiful garment couldn't prevent the decay that had torn them to tatters in the first place from spreading. Year on year, its population stays stagnant, while the rest of Japan's— and the world's— slowly declines. It's not as if it's doomed, though. Humankind's population has decreased to slivers at times in its past. They always recover, adaptable as they are... Or one might think that. But looking around at this beautiful place, how could anyone think of their world as one which still struggles to survive?

Of course, we, too, are peace-addled. Carefully quarantined away from that which is poisonous to us, we developed a system by which we could simulate the life-and-death struggles that form the basis for our existence. Gensoukyou has no way to keep track of its population— not that one could track such a thing for youkai— so who knows how many youkai even manage to successfully hunt the prey that is introduced for them? The shrine maiden mentions guiding a fortunate soul back home every several weeks or so. And surely, many more meet their fate at the hands of the environment, rather than at ours. Some youkai with warped beliefs about the outside world even profess that it's a danger to hunt outsiders, as the world of humans keeps such a strict eye on them that Gensoukyou's existence would surely be discovered if we continued to do so, and if that were to happen, it would equally as surely be the case that Gensoukyou would be destroyed.

In the world of humans that exists outside of the imagination, I read a tabloid article about my own unsolved disappearance while walking down Kyoto's dull streets. The few glances I did receive were perhaps related more to my attire than to any evident recognition.Or maybe the heavy black bag resting on my shoulder.

Perhaps I should have been amusing myself watching the humans scurry around, rather than reading articles about myself, though; as I rounded a familiar corner, I very nearly collided with an old man departing from a bar and was forced to profusely apologize. Gruffly, he asked me what a girl my age was doing out alone at night. I was about to comment on it when I straightened up again and got a proper look at his face. The recognition wasn't immediate, but it was swift.

"Oh, it's you again. Dr. Latency, was it not?"

He raised an eyebrow in my general direction, then mumbled something noncommittal. I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder in a friendly manner. "No, no, I've read your book! Though it was years ago now, it was such an inspiration to me. You haven't published again, have you? Why not?"

He muttered something about material. It was obvious that he was, if not drunk, certainly not sober. I doubt that he would have been able to form coherent responses were I not prying into his impersonation.

"That's such a shame! But I'm sure you'll find more material to write about soon. In fact, I guarantee it! And I, for one, will be waiting patiently for when you publish again." I smiled wide.

The old man backed away, then began stumbling off down the street. I wondered if he had any literary talent at all. Surely he must have had some; otherwise, who would believe him when he said that he was the great Dr. Latency, explorer of other worlds?

Well, despite my talent, dictation and editing didn't necessarily make for the most engaging of literary works.

I slipped the tabloid into his jacket pocket as he walked away, then proceeded down the road in the opposite direction. While Kyoto may be dull, today it was a little less so than the usual; stalks of artificial bamboo were sitting in pots outside of businesses with small slips of colored paper tied to them. Some shops advertised a free tanzaku with every purchase. At shopping malls around the city, colorful streamers decorated the ceilings. Capitalizing on the festival coinciding with the Perseids, some organizations had created "meteor tanzaku"— the idea was that as the weaver and the cowherd met once more, their response to humans' well-wishes would be seen in the forms of falling meteorites. But really, the paper strips were just more expensive.

I finished up my walk, and arrived at my destination. Of course, by now, Tou-ji temple was closed. I entered anyway, and climbed to the top of the pagoda, where I sat for a moment before I set up my telescope, pointing north. Of course, I didn't need it to see, but when looking for something far away among the stars, it's only natural to point a telescope at it, isn't it? With that in mind, I had brought it along as an extra precaution.

Looking out over the roof, though, the meteor shower wasn't obvious at all. While Kyoto had implemented some perfunctory protocols aimed at decreasing the amount of light made by humans that reached the heavens at night, it was nowhere near enough. It was a time of night that humans would naturally spend asleep, and yet the tiniest streaks of meteor fire were barely visible against the pale blue glow of the night sky.

How could anyone imagine fearing the night in a world like this one?

And yet.

Do humans no longer fear the night? From all appearances, it would seem so. They travel through it with barely the slightest thought to what could be lurking beneath the surface. They hold festivals that stretch late into the night, then, yawning, stumble home in drunken groups. Even children are less afraid of the dark than they once were— dim electric lighting helps them adjust. But then, allow me to pose a question. What is the fear of the night?

Most psychologists would gesture at the obvious— in the ancestral environment, humans were hunted by nocturnal predators. Of course, the explanation they would give contains predators made solely of flesh and blood, but I'll forgive them here. But it's an easy-to-understand explanation. Barring, of course, the fact that arming oneself tends to do little to combat the fear of the dark. Lighting a fire— which would, of course, ward off predators— only makes what lies beyond the firelight more terrifying.

The horror that the night inculcates upon the human mind is not the horror of what lurks in the night, but the horror of something lurking there. Where humans cannot quite see, infinite terrifying possibilities come to life in their minds. That is what gives birth to youkai. But do you really think that they have ceased to fear possibilities that lie outside the realm of their understanding? A modern scientist must, then, embrace the unknown, everything that allows them to reach out further into the universe, that tells them their life yet has meaning. Perhaps they'd even come to worship it— that "god of the gaps" that they can fill in for infinite years, lives of infinite exploration.

And yet, I am no god. I do not exist to heal humans' wounded hearts, show them a path to what lies beyond infinity. If humans did have the ability to accept what they did not understand, I wonder what their world would be like today? Harnessing the power to twist the very foundations of the universe to their own benefit... The idea of them doing such a thing is infinitely amusing. They never managed to erase their fears entirely. Instead, they banished them to the far edges of their minds, and when the contradictions became too much for them to bear, they scratched at the wound they'd created in their consciousness; and something came from there. An explanation for all that doesn't fit. Terrified, they banished it from their time; but they still couldn't free themselves from the barriers that they'd encircled themselves with. And with that, they had sealed their own fate.

Beyond the earth is an infinite night, one that contains more possibility than anything in this world. Accepting the impossible here on Earth is something they've protected against. The prickling sensation on the back of my neck— the knowledge that I am being watched— would not exist were it not for those many-fold barriers. But in regards to things beyond this world, they are still so vulnerable. They only think of themselves. The stars are strictly the realm of science fiction, not fantasy; or if they are fantasies, those things come to Earth only to interact with the humans here. What would the effect of something squarely outside of human experience, with no obvious cause, and certainly no extraterrestrial craftsman behind it, be? Surely, if there is one crack in the eightfold walls the human mind has built around this, their paradise, it must be the heavens. And from there, what might escape but unending darkness and terror?

I glanced through the telescope. The meteors were beginning to fall thickly. It was a wonderful sight; the Kyoto Tower, a few kilometers away, had been opened beyond its usual hours especially for the purpose of observation. Nobody had seemed to notice that their location of origin was on quite the opposite side of the night sky to Perseus. And why would they? It wasn't as if anything strange was happening there. Ursa Major and Minor faced each other, curving in their endless dance around the star of celestial pivot. A communications satellite or two crossed the legs of the great bear, no doubt carrying hundreds of thousands of snapped pictures of the meteor shower to friends around the world who were unfortunate enough to be in daytime.

I, myself, took no photographs. They would decay before my memories of this night did.

Instead, I stood on the edge of the roof, swaying back and forth, waiting. Though I haven't had nightmares in millennia, I remember a little bit about them. From my point of view, the most dreadful part of a nightmare is when everything begins to go wrong, and there's nothing that you can do about it. Desperately, you think "Ah, if only I had done something earlier!" while fleeing from that something created by your terrified mind. But earlier, of course, you didn't know that it was a nightmare. It's paradoxically so easy to avoid and yet the only thing that could happened to you that night.

The prickling on the back of my neck had disappeared. I stood still and folded my hands behind my back. The moon had just begun to rise.

The first to appear were the meteors. There had been an abnormally high number earlier before, of course, but not like this. These meteors seemed to fall from everywhere and land nearby; enormous chunks of celestial iron. The metal that humanity had made its birthright, that it had fought back the night with the aid of, that it had built its shining, cold cities of— it was pelting the ground where they stood. I heard the sound of a delivery truck's theft alarm, somewhat warped, chirping out a dying cry.

The wind came next. It wasn't terribly strong; certainly nothing like a typhoon here or a hurricane in the place of my birth. But it was noticeable; the trees rustled, a few branches snapped here and there. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared. What it left in its wake wasn't peace, though. It was something else.

A meteor missed my cheek by a meter. I reached out to try and touch it.

Then, the lights went out. All of them. There was an arcing, crackling noise; I watched as a small fragment of current departed from a nearby electrical pole and went crawling along towards the ground. The only useful light came from the incessantly falling meteors. I watched as one of them barreled into the nearby temple complex, then looked up at the sky. There, rather than stars or communications satellites, were streaks of colored light like a spiderweb, disappearing as quickly as they appeared. In the center of them all, around the North Pole, the usual night sky had begun to reappear, with one exception in the center.

Light in a vacuum travels at two hundred and ninety-nine million, seven hundred and ninety-two thousand, four hundred and fifty-eight meters per second. The final remains of a star that had died hours ago, at least three hundred and fifty light-years from Earth, were rushing past the planet's magnetic shield at this very moment. And from that location, where the pole star had once stood, plunged a meteor faster and brighter than any of the others, on a collision course towards Kyoto, burning the skies where it fell.

I leapt into the air. It took only an instant for it to notice me and direct its dive in my direction. As I stood in the empty air, arms outstretched, it took only an instant more for it to reach me. Traveling at several times the speed of sound, when its still-burning form hit me, I felt nothing but heat. Shortly thereafter I felt crumpling wood behind me, and then the ground.

A sooty, tattered Usami Renko, hair torn from its bow and falling out behind her, beaming like the celestial body she was, rested her head on my chest, listening for the lack of a heartbeat. Her eyes shining with tears, she looked into mine. "Did I do it? I don't feel sick any more, but—" She laughed. "You should've come with me! You would've loved it."

I embraced her.

Chapter 29

Chapter Text

—The Hakurei Shrine on the night of the harvest moon.

Though this shrine has been abandoned for hundreds of years, it somehow seems to remain in fairly good repair. The few remaining residents of the area where it is located find this a bit mysterious, and some of them, though they don't really believe in any gods, will leave some sake or snacks there as a good luck charm. Just in case. The sake and snacks seem to disappear with surprising regularity, so many have taken to believing that the area has a problem with thieves, and teenagers will sometimes hide out behind the shrine to see if they can find out who's been doing it. Nobody ever leaves the shrine with more than they bring, though.

Mid-autumn, however, was not a popular time for this practice. The sun dropped like a bucket around that time of year, and teenagers would get an earful if they came home with scrapes and bruises— or in some cases, if they came home after sunset at all. So, generally, the Hakurei Shrine— though few knew it by that name any more— stood abandoned throughout the autumn and winter.

However, on this night, that was not the case. If one passed the foot of the shrine's stairs, one might hear loud laughter echoing from beyond the torii. If one had the heart to investigate further and crept up the stairs to investigate, a dreadful scene would await...

Hundreds of youkai were packing the shrine's yard. Many of them had spread out blankets and were laying down on them while they ate and chatted, some were getting into fights, and all of them were drinking. Someone had provided as much top-quality sake as they could stomach. Meanwhile, by the shrine building, a group of youkai had set up shichirin and were serving up grilled meat as quickly as they could cook it. The usual band of enterprising poltergeists and one tsukumogami had had a stage set up and were taking song requests... though the tsukumogami seemed to be getting a little more enthusiastic about the percussion than usual.

As for the host, she was sitting on the shrine steps behind the stage, next to the guest of honor— me. She had tried to persuade me to give a speech, but I had flatly refused, and was nursing a cup of absolute ethanol to calm the nerves regardless. Everyone who had come up to me so far had wanted to talk for a full hour, half of which was compliments. It was obvious that they were trying to butter me up, and it left me with a vague feeling of disgust. Fundamentally, youkai were individuals. A proper youkai should solve her own problems, not ask me about them. Even if I can tell her whether something is a good idea, why should I?

The Prismrivers finished their set to cheers and applause. They began to vacate the stage as Yukari stood up and ascended it. The crowd greeted her far more coolly. She curtseyed with a smile, then began to speak.

"Good evening to you all. I trust you're enjoying the party?"

A few cheers and a smattering of applause.

"That's good to hear. I'm sure that all of you know of me, even if you do not know me personally. I am Yakumo Yukari, the Boundary of Phantasm. I'm certain that you're wondering why I chose to host a party like this, given that I'm known for my reticence, despite how well-liked I obviously am." She grinned. "The answer is simple. The boundary that I mentioned earlier— what side of it do all of you fall on?"

Someone shouted "Phantasm!" and Yukari nodded approvingly.

"Right answer! We are all phantasms, given form by human belief. But as all of you know, in the past hundreds of years, we have been forgotten by humanity. Our powers have waned, and some of us have disappeared entirely. Existing as the tales that we are, dependent on human memory. But the brighter ones among you may have noticed something. Right here, where I stand, is the boundary of Gensoukyou and the Outside World. This gathering has taken place entirely in the world of humans!"

Someone whooped.

"I would like to thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Without you, Gensoukyou could never have come to fruition. It freed us at first from the individual shackles of human belief— with the belief in youkai as strong as it is within Gensoukyou, none of us were bound to existences solely revolving around the creation of human fear. And now, that hated star has fallen, and we lies can encircle the world before the truth has its boots on. While we are born from tales, no longer do they have to be told for us to continue to exist. Now, we youkai are bound by nothing, and bind nothing. The only thing that remains bound is food."

Raucous cheers.

"From this day forward, you will no longer be bound to Gensoukyou. This does not mean that it will cease to exist, of course; only that the barrier between it and the Outside World will slowly become everywhere as it is here." She gestured to the shrine. "And as for myself, I'm quitting my job. Good night!"

Someone shouted "You had a job?" and everyone laughed. Yukari laughed along with them, then took a bow. She was about to descend from the stage when someone in the row in front of the stage stood up.

Arms folded, with a frown on her face, Ibaraki Kasen glared up at the stage.

Yukari tilted her head to the side. "Yes?"

"You disgust me."

Yukari pulled her parasol out from somewhere, opened it, and walked over towards Kasen, smiling sweetly. "I do? But we're on the same side, aren't we, Kasen?"

"I am not on your side." Kasen's voice was a growl. "And I never will be."

"Oh my, but you are! Didn't you want youkai to be freed from the shackles of human belief? How else would they grow to exist alongside humans, like you desperately want?" Yukari pointed at Kasen's manacle. "Or perhaps you've developed Stockholm syndrome?"

"Not like this." Kasen gestured behind her. There, some youkai were still happily chowing down on their grilled meat, ignoring the conversation. Even most of those who had been listening to Yukari's speech had gone back to chatting. "You've twisted the laws of the universe to follow your disgusting whims, and the celestial dragon has been working alongside you every step of the way. You know that without a reason to do so, it'll be next to impossible to convince youkai not to treat humans as nothing but food. You just referred to them as such!"

"My, you really have low self-esteem." Yukari said sweetly. She disappeared from the stage and reappeared behind Kasen, leaning out of a gap onto her shoulder. "As a sage of Gensoukyou, you should really have been aware of this from the beginning! It's not as if any of us lied to you. You just didn't question aaaaanything... until you couldn't change anything, of course. If anything, you're luckier now than you were back when we were all bound by the barrier! After all, you have all the time in the wor— ah!"

Kasen had grabbed Yukari's hair and yanked it until Yukari's face was level with hers. "You should be the one to fall into Hell, not me."

She struck Yukari across the jaw, and she went flying. I watched with a mixture of awe and pity as Yukari arced through the air before falling into a wound in reality and reappearing just behind Kasen, parasol stabbing out lightning-fast. Kasen dodged, grabbed Yukari by the collar, and hit her in the stomach. Someone cheered. I took another sip of alcohol.

A green-and-orange someone sat down on the shrine steps beside me, and I looked up. A traditional hat tilted rakishly to one side, and a symbolic representation of me on the front panel of her dress; she was almost certainly another sage. I felt an odd sense of familiarity, almost like I had met her over Tanabata. But the only person I'd seen that day was Yukari...

"They're really going at it, aren't they?" She picked up some lotus root from her bowl and took a bite. Only vegetables and fish— so, either not a youkai at all, or a youkai like Kasen, pretending to be human. Though the former was obviously the correct answer. "Aren't you worried?"

"Not really. I didn't see anyone making fish."

She laughed loudly. "Ha! This is a youkai festival. I'd have to be a fool not to bring a meal from my own abode. Let me introduce myself. I am Matara Okina, a god of backdoors, hindrances, noh plays, secrets, and stars... and I'm one of the sages who created Gensoukyou. You're well-known already, so there's no need to introduce yourself. But I heard your surname was Usami?" She raised an eyebrow at me.

I raised an eyebrow back. "You met the other one back when she visited Gensoukyou? You can count out my telling you any more than that."

Okina laughed again. "Of course, of course!...But I should tell you that all of us sages were created after the same fashion. 'Twas not a grand leap of logic to understand you."

"I find that more insulting than the understanding you reached."

Yukari crashed into a tree. I winced slightly.

"I take it you're from the Outside? That is to say, from after it became the Outside." Okina had finished her lotus root, and set down her bowl briefly. "I have not been here in decades, barring this party! Can you tell me all about it?"

"Well—"

A cheerful voice cut in on top of me. "Hiiii! Mind if I pop in for a sec?"

I looked up and saw a pair of pinkish-red antlers. I looked down a little, and saw that there was a head attached to them.

I heard the creaking sound of a door closing next to me, and glanced over Okina to ask her for her thoughts. I found that she was not there, sighed, and stood up. I inspected the head (and the body attached to it) more closely.

The woman who had approached me was wearing a slinky red ballgown that clashed outrageously with therainbow feather boa draped over her shoulders. The hands whose wrists were covered in extravagant jade and coral bracelets were clasped in a pleading gesture. Her inky black hair was cropped in a style popular in the middle of the last century, and her red eyes looked up at me sweetly. A tufted dark green tail curled around her bare legs.

"I didn't know there was another dragon here." I felt just a little bit irritated that I'd been interrupted.

She waved dismissively. "Don't worry, don't worry! I'm just dropping by for a tiny bit. I'm actually here on business, but before I deal with that, I wanted to say hi to you!"

"Hi? I'm Usami Renko. You probably know that already. And you're...?"

"Well, I've got a lot of annoying titles you probably don't want to hear about..." The other dragon winked at me. "But you can just call me Ebi."

Because she was so short? "Because you're so short?"

For a second, she looked surprised, then giggled. "Not really! But it fits, right?"

"You are wearing a lot of red."

"I definitely feel like I'm being boiled, what with this weather..." Ebi fanned herself. "But those two." She pointed in the general direction of a crater in the trees where Yukari had seemingly just landed. "Are they your friends?"

"Is that what you wanted to ask me?"

"That and a couple of follow-up questions. I would have asked your friend, but she..." Ebi made a poofing motion with her hands. "Yknow."

She knew Okina and was dancing around the question. I decided not to press her on it. "I'm friends with one of them. I used to be friends with both, but... some things happened." I flicked my tail a little for emphasis.

"Right, right... Let me guess, your friend is the pink one?" Ebi raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

"Not right." I shook my head. "She's the one I had a falling out with. On a different note, do you want something to eat or drink? I should have a plate around here..."

Ebi smiled slightly. "Some sake would be nice. But I don't really... eat that much. Human food or youkai food. You know about hermits, I'm guessing?"

I did. I poured her a dish of sake, and she finished it in a single gulp before continuing. Even off of that tiny amount of alcohol, her cheeks had started to flush red.

"Yessss, right! I was totally forgetting something. I said I was here on my job earlier, right?"

I nodded, and refilled my own dish with sake.

"Yay! I didn't forget that at least. Basically, my job is sort of... diplomacy? Something like that? Does the Emperor do that kind of thing still, or does he pass laws and stuff? I forget, he's always doing something different in different eras."

"The latter, kind of."

"Ughhhh. Humans need to keep their governmental systems in order! I've been king for six hundred years and it's— hic— worked fine. I'm here to make sure that the pink one over there is keeping her promise. But since you're on your own, I don't have to yell at anyone. Yay!"

I was reminded of a piece of writing I'd read a long time ago. "Does it snow where you come from?"

Her expression cleared up a little. "All the time! It's way colder than it is out here, or even in your Gensoukyou. Have you ever heard of thundersnow? It's basically always like that."

"Near Sapporo?"

"Kiiiind of." She waggled a hand. "More sake?"

I poured her another dish, and she gulped it again. If she kept it up at this rate, she'd be unconscious in an hour, I thought. "People say it's better not to drink on an empty stomach."

She sighed loudly. "I knowwwww. But I was just so nervous coming here... last time something this big happened, everyone ignored me, and I had to throw a tantrum for days until anyone listened. All you had to do was cause one little meteor shower, and now they're throwing you a party! It's not fairrrr."

"Sorry?"

"It's not your fault. And besides—" She pointed to the stairs, where Kasen was dragging herself up to lean against the torii, seemingly missing an arm and one of her hair buns. I delicately looked away so as not to embarrass her. "I got to watch a great fight! I have to tell everyone at home about it. Iku's gonna be so jealous."

I felt some mild concern prickling on the back of my neck. I couldn't see Yukari anywhere. They had been fighting pretty seriously— had she gotten seriously injured? Or worse—?

Something heavy and sticky fell onto my shoulders. "Renko~!"

I glanced over my left, and saw the vaguely Yukari-shaped gap in space clinging to me there. It was oozing inky darkness, as if it was bleeding, but it didn't seem the least bit perturbed. I must have jumped a little, because it puffed out its cheeks, then began to pat its face into shape, giving up once it reached a pale, vaguely Merry-like appearance. If she'd lost a lot of blood, that was. Her eyes were red, rather than the gold they'd been at the beginning of the night. She waved a little limply to Ebi.

Ebi's face flushed bright red, and she covered her eyes with her feather boa. "Clothing?"

"You residents of the heavens really are so picky, aren't you? And after I went and sacrificed my dignity to keep our promise... you're just cruel, dragon."

Nonetheless, she disappeared for a moment, then reappeared wearing the same formal dress that she had earlier in the night. She smiled. "Better?"

Ebi sighed. "Much better. Thank you."

"Are you enjoying my party? And my Renko? Even if she's cruel and abandoned me to the evil hermit..." She pinched my cheek.

"Oh, she's yours, is she? Now, I thought I said..." Ebi raised an eyebrow, then laughed. "Kidding. You picked an interesting way of keeping the peace."

"It comes with some bonuses." Yukari had slung her arms around my neck. "Now, as for the others...?"

"The first slipped away before I could say anything to her, but I haven't noticed any problems. As for the second..." Ebi tilted her head towards Kasen, who was resting under a tree, being poured sake by a tall, one-horned oni. "There is a little bit of conflict... I don't know how I feel about our being raised as pets, or the extermination of lizards before they become dragons. But she's gone through enough at her own hands. For now."

"For now." Yukari smiled. "Would you like to take anything with you?"

"Well, actually, I was thinking of a gift for you..."

As Ebi produced an ornate bottle of sake, I had been distracted by something walking around the corner of the shrine. Trundling along like the world depended on it, with a grim-looking expression was a tiny, fluffy, red-and-white kitten. As I watched, it knocked over an abandoned bottle of sake and licked some up from the ground, then turned around and jumped into the air, landing in someone's arms.

That someone was wearing a red hakama, carrying a rather long rod of wood... On her face was a look of utter disgust mixed with embarrassment. She looked at me, then Yukari, then the oni drinking under the trees, and shouted at the top of her lungs at the rampaging partygoers.

"Get out of here right now, or I'll exterminate the whole damn lot of you!"

As Yukari and I made ourselves scarce, I heard the faint sound of police sirens in the distance.

Chapter 30

Chapter Text

—"Welcome."

The unfriendly bartender spoke without looking as the bell at the building's front jangled. The new patron gave him a civil nod nonetheless before taking a seat at her usual table.

The man sitting across from her was a little more affable. "You're just in time. Tonight'sabout to start."

"Oho? Well, I sure do hope that my cider shows up in time." She turned her eyes to the makeshift stage at the center of the bar as the first patron started to speak.

—

"—I see we're all here tonight. First time in a couple of weeks, huh? Man, the disruptions to transit from that geomagnetic storm really were something. But actually, it's that storm that I'm here to talk about. We all know that it wasn't really a sunspot, right?"

"See, I was out on the night of Tanabata when the meteors started falling, and I saw it. One of them fell straight from where the north star was, until a few weeks ago. Fell straight towards Tou-ji— I'm sure you all heard the pagoda was destroyed. Awful stuff. But, yknow, something felt weird about it. So the next day, I sneaked past the yellow tape into the temple complex. And do you know what I found there, right where the meteor had crashed? Nothing at all, just an impact crater. Now I know what you're thinking— of course it burned up on impact, right? Nothing out of the ordinary there. But look at this."

The man pulled a shiny, leaf-shaped black object out of his pocket and showed it to the crowd.

"I found this in a meteor crater in the park by my house. Lots of other people found them too— you can just look online. They don't look like they're made of metal, do they? Or even by human hands. There are some guys who wanted to do spectroscopic analysis on em, but the university laughed them out of the building! Pretty suspicious, right? Isn't it even more suspicious that there wasn't anything in the crater at Tou-ji? Almost as if something big landed there, stood up, and walked away..."

He put the leaf-shaped object back into his pocket, turning it around as he did. He hadn't mentioned it in his story, but there was an odd pattern on the underside; oblong-shaped, and pointed at the ends. Almost like an eye...

—

The woman took a gulp of her cider and sighed. "They don't distill this stuff, do they? Shame. You're not giving an account tonight, right? Why not?"

The man sitting next to her gave her an uncomfortable look. "I'm not really in the mood tonight. I've been worrying my head off recently, and I don't think I'd be a lot of fun."

"Oho? Worried 'bout what? —Ah, the next one's starting."

—

"I'd first like to make an acknowledgment. As all of us know, this bar's role was sparked by the publication of Swallowstone Naturalis Historia. Though Dr. Latency sadly isn't here tonight, I'm sure that he'd be happy to know that we've all come together to document our experiences like this."

"My story starts there, really. I went off to Tokyo a week or so ago, looking for other publications like it— maybe some new visitors for our group. You know. Anyway, I went to Jinbouchou— I end up there pretty much every other week on good days, even though most of the shops are closed nowadays— but when I was looking for my usual street, it was the damnedest thing. I kept getting turned around— you know how Tokyo's full of those flowers nowadays? They make me sick, and it's hard to figure out where you are if the streets are covered in red. But anyway, there was this shop I'd never seen before, with a picture of a turnip on the sign... I went inside, and it seemed to be deserted. There was a girl reading behind the counter, but she didn't welcome me or anything, so I wasn't sure if she worked there or not... I just went and started browsing the shelves."

"But you know, it's the damnedest thing. At the front of the store, the books were all your normal used bookstore fare, though honestly older than average— the owner didn't seem like she had much of a budget, if you get what I mean. But the further back you went in the stacks, the weirder the books got; it was like I was surrounded by copies of Swallowstone Naturalis Historia, but with the contents written as if they were natural, everyday facts. I think there was a book about the flora and fauna of Hell? Even further back than that, though, the books were written in a language that looked different from any human script I've ever seen. And it's not like I'm not well-read! They weren't Arabic, or Bengali, or even Greenlandic. They weren't written for humans at all. They gave me the creeps, so I tried to walk back to the front..."

"And that was when I realized it. By taking the books off the shelves, I'd become trapped in that bookstore. None of them were marked, so the only way that I'd escape was if I remembered them... It took me hours, but I managed to reshelve them all, and the front door appeared. I never saw the girl again. It's possible she, too, became trapped in the bookstore, but that she couldn't escape. After I got back onto the street, I ran straight to the train station without looking back!"

—

"My daughter's been missing for nearly a week now. I've been worried about her." The man pulled out his phone and began to swipe through some photos.

"Daughter, huh? What's she do for a living?"

"She's still in high school, actually. But she has a part-time job as a shrine maiden over the summer... I think that it's some good work experience for her. She didn't come home after work last Wednesday, and we've been working with the police closely over it."

"—Oh, I see..."

—

"Sorry, sorry, I'm still a little nervous about this one. Let me start over again. Right, like the last story, this one starts further east... I have family in Yokohama, and I was visiting them when the electrical storm struck, so I was stuck in town for a while. If you're worried about the plane crash there, don't be— we're way out of the landing path for the airport, so we were fine. My father was worried for a while about his stem cell transfusions, they managed to transport them with dry ice, so it was all good."

"Anyway, I was walking around in downtown Yokohama. It's kind of a ghost town without the car factories in operation, I know... but I grew up there, okay? It's still a city to me. I went into the empty lot that I used to play around in when I was a kid, and noticed something funny. You know the kind of stuff that shows up in empty lots nowadays? Moss, scrubby grass, pine trees. That sort of stuff. But you know what I saw in that empty lot? None of that. What I saw was a lot of sunflowers, of all things. Growing just as well as if it were a greenhouse! And there was a little greenhouse there, too. Some benches... It was like someone had turned the whole area into a garden."

"Just as I thought that and sat down on a bench, though, I felt a chill come over me, like I was being watched. I looked over my shoulder, and there was nobody there; when I looked back, though, there was a lady puttering around with a watering can and umbrella in front of the greenhouse. Couldn't have been much older than my wife, but I got the weirdest feeling— like she was older than the city itself. She saw me and walked over, asked me if I thought the 'little ones' were cute. I told her they were, and she asked me if I'd rather be a human or a sunflower? She was smiling the whole time, so I thought it was a joke at first, but it dawned on me that it was a serious question. I told her it depended on the kind of world that I lived in, right? Like ten thousand years ago, it was great to be a sunflower. The climate was great for it. But nowadays, everything's still so paved over, and it's too hot and humid for them to flourish, so even struggling on the ground as a person was preferable."

"She told me she liked my answer, and walked back to the greenhouse. She brought me out a potted violet, and told me to take good care of it. Despite the oddness of the experience, it's still doing well in my apartment. Do you know why?"

"When I thanked her for the gift, I made the mistake of looking her in the eyes. And that's when I saw it— They were bright red!"

—

"Sounds like contacts to me."

"Y'sure? I wouldn't wear contacts when I was out gardening... Oop, it's my turn. See ya in a bit."

—

The woman known as Miss Mami had been coming to meetups at the Old Adam bar for a few weeks now. Not that anyone had noticed, besides the bartender looking over her tab, but she'd shown up the first day the bar had reopened after the meteor storm on Tanabata. And she hadn't told a single story of her own. Now that she was taking the stage, some of the patrons had high expectations. The last time a mysterious new patron had come to the bar, she'd brought with her a magic item that had allowed them to see into other worlds. Unlike back then, though, Miss Mami seemed about the same demographic as the other patrons, so some of them had lower expectations...

"Hello, hello. This thing on? Good! Just like the rest of you, I'm here to recount a mysterious experience of mine. Unlike the rest of you, though, this experience happened on the train ride over here!"

"Y'see, I live in Nagano, so I've gotta take the train to Kyoto if I wanna come here on the weekends. Now, normally this is no problem. High speed rail, the Boyu Tokaido, done. Even last time, there was no problem getting to Tokyo at all— great rail system and all. I got myself all settled in for my fifty-three minute ride on the Shinkansen, and was curling up with a coffee and the video of Mt. Fuji when the train came to a screeching stop. And I mean screeching! I spilled coffee all over my jacket, and had to go and get it dry cleaned. Awful pain. I went up to the front of the train to ask the conductor what the matter was, and he told me that there had been something on the tracks. Something on the tracks, I asked? We were underground, what would be on the tracks except for a cave-in? He showed me the recent video footage. What there had been on the tracks was another train, barreling straight towards us!"

"Now, I pointed out that there wasn't a train in front of us right now, and he shrugged. He explained that he couldn't understand it either— that the other train should be in Kyoto right now, and that the track circuit didn't seem to be saying there was anything on there. It had been there one moment, gone the next, disappeared as quick as you like. Still there on video, and on the rail circuit indicators up till a minute ago. I went back to my seat, and the rest of the ride was uneventful. But I kept thinking about it, you know? How do you make a phantom train?"

Miss Mami took a bow, walked to the counter to pay her tab, then left. The other patrons were by turns disappointed and happy. Some of them had been expecting more from her. Some had seen enough unusual events in the past few weeks, and were glad that she hadn't brought any extra darkness into the bar with her.

Particularly disappointed, however, was the bartender, when at the end of the night, he noticed that one of his best bottles of whiskey had seemingly sprouted legs and run off with her. He vowed not to let her back into the bar before she paid for it, but in the future, he'd find it terribly difficult to keep his promise. Later, he was diagnosed with a mild form of face-blindness, but he disputed that diagnosis until the day he died.

Chapter 31

Chapter Text

The light autumn breeze tickled my cheeks.

Not much of a tempest, for this area... but then again, what it had become known for in the modern day wasn't here, either. I walked along the sandy, unkempt path, and poked at some of the scrubby foliage along the side as I did so. Sagebrush, or so I told myself. They were probably planted here to stop erosion when the pines weren't enough. The miracle of genetic engineering that had saved Kyoto's cherry trees wouldn't be replicated on an out-of-the-way trail like this one— even if it had been a tourist attraction, way back in the day, not even the city's residents visited it now.

Well, maybe that was an exaggeration on Yukari's part. The humans of the present wouldn't love an unkempt bamboo forest enough to try and replicate it in a museum piece, let alone the humans of the past. I found it hard to believe that they'd crowded onto paths here to marvel at it. But then again, I wasn't the judge of the subjective, now was I?

I reached the top of the stairs and turned around. All of Kyoto, covered in its familiar greenery barring a few charred spots, was visible from here. What lay beyond the city was, too. In turns unkempt monocultures of invasive species in the valleys, and dusty, scrub-laden hills, the plants that were present nothing but a feeble gesture to prevent mudslides. Still, it was beautiful. In the same way that work that wears you out has a fun about it that effortless enjoyment of something gorgeous can't match, seeing an imperfect city like Kyoto grappling with the aftermath of disaster after disaster naturally warmed my heart. I opened my canned coffee and took a sip, then spread out my arms and turned around.

"What do you think?"

Yukari, sitting at a well-set wrought-iron cafe table in the midst of some scrub brush, smiled. "I think that you're four minutes and thirty-eight seconds late, Renko." Her elegantly crossed legs poked at a brown paper bag, tied at the top with a green bow. She looked past me at the landscape. "It's certainly Kyoto."

I sat down at the table, setting my canned coffee next to the elegant tea set. It was intruding on the cucumber sandwiches, but there wasn't any helping it.

I opened my mouth to speak, but heard a strange sound—what sounded like a child's laugh— behind me and shut it again, raising an eyebrow.

Yukari took the brown paper bag off of the ground and pulled out a green segment of a plant with yet another piece of ribbon tied around it. A bamboo cutting. She set it on the table next to a plate of petit*-fours.

"You're not going to be able to harvest bamboo shoots in the spring here if you try to let them grow without any help, Renko."

"Oh, the ribbon's from her! I thought you'd changed your style. Or that you were trying to make white light. And of course, that would be..." The simplest possible fantasy, that once lived in the dreams of children around the world.

"A power that embodies Gensoukyou itself, of course. She wanted to add ginger as well, but..."

She stood, taking the bamboo cuttings with her. I followed, and we walked a short ways from the table to the top of the stairs. I pulled out a spade.

"I was going to offer you one of those, but you're always prepared for grave-robbing, aren't you?"

"I'd need a bigger shovel for that!"

Yukari flicked me on the forehead. "You're an awful influence. Look at all that you went and made me do, putting ideas in my head! Two-thirds of Japan's three terrible youkai are retired. Maybe they wanted to open a spot for you?"

"You're even worse. I was just an innocent university student, how could I have known the consequences for my actions? You drove me away from humanity knowing full well what you were doing, you monster."

"Hmm..." Yukari pouted. "That's true. It's a good thing that there are two spots available in that case, isn't it?" She giggled.

I grinned.

After I knelt to make a series of shallow holes in the ground, I stood and watched Yukari carefully place each bamboo cutting into them, one by one. With a wave of her hand, the soil returned to covering them, and as soon as I blinked, they had been watered in. She stood and dusted off her skirt, then smiled. "Shall we go and have our tea?"

Before we started on the sandwiches, I pulled my chair over towards Yukari's, so that I could watch the bamboo grow. I needn't have bothered, though; I could hear the bamboo rustle as it began to reach towards the sky, unfurling joint segment after joint segment. As soon as a stalk was tall enough to stand on its own, it sent out a runner in another direction entirely, crisscrossing the former scrubland in minutes. Initially, it seemed to have a difficult time crossing the flagstones of the walkway, but one adventurous shoot felt its way across them and victoriously encountered soil on the other side. Soon, our cafe table was surrounded, and as the stalks began to block out the sky, I saw forms flitting around among them. They kept their distance, but I observed the beginnings of a game of tag.

Yukari took a bite out of a cucumber sandwich. "You know, these are quite good. Are you sure you're not a kappa?"

"I don't even like liver, much less that." I tried one myself— or rather, swallowed one in one bite. "At least check if the hypotheses you're making are blatantly unsupported before chattering about them."

"I'm sorry that I don't have your wisdom, O all-knowing one." Yukari finished her sandwich with a smile. "I do hope I didn't make the petit*-fours too salty..."

I quickly tried one, just in case, and was relieved to taste nothing but chocolate with a hint of lemon tang. I sipped my coffee to wash it down. "It's nice." I wasn't talking about the sweet.

"You're not disappointed, then?" Yukari placed another cucumber sandwich on her plate.

"The world of dreams still has canned coffee. How could I be disappointed?" I finished it off to emphasize my point. "Of course it's going to be slow to start. You know, when a character in an old cartoon runs off a cliff, but doesn't start falling until they realize they're on thin air? Even now, there are still things like this." I gestured to a group of fairies, who had somehow gotten their hands on bamboo spears and had gone onto a war footing with each other. "As long as dreams are things that can be turned into reality, they will be. Gensoukyou won't cease to have a reason to exist just because it's allowed to be part of the world humans inhabit. Even if all of reality is a dream, that place is our dream."

"Even if the phantasmal is right beside you, it's still the phantasmal, isn't that right?" Yukari glanced up at the sky. "Humanity forgot that, sometime long ago. Those things you can never comprehend, that forever unknown, terrifying something, they're part of the everyday. No matter how little effort you put in to seek them out, they are still there. No matter how far you advance, how much you struggle to free yourself from all the evils set loose from Pandora's box... Don't you think it's interesting how the antidote to humanity's suffering in that story was hope?"

A bamboo leaf fluttered down to land on the table. I watched it spin through the air before I answered. "As opposed to perseverance, or joy, or any of the classic Greek virtues?"

"Precisely. And what is hope, exactly?" Yukari's chin was cupped in her hands. Her expression was calm, expectant.

"Obviously an openness to the possibility that things will be better in the future."

"Possibility. Precisely." Her smile— so like a cat's — was my reward. "The knowledge of the truth that the story isn't over. That anything can happen. The original word— elpis— retains this ambiguity. Mostly, it's about the expectation of good, that things can change for the better. But there's still that chance— that horrible chance that they'll become far worse. In a world that has abandoned change, is hope not another of the box's evils, long forgotten?"

"A dream becoming reality is always a nightmare."

"No matter how lovely it is! To us, the nightmares, abandoned and forgotten for so long, I wonder if it seems as if nothing much has changed? But, of course, absolutely everything has. Humans, who discarded their unnecessary hope, will never be safe from it again."

Yukari ducked, and a piece of bamboo promptly flew overhead. She giggled.

"A world of infinite possibility and infinite mystery. When you expose one, another takes its place." I sighed happily. "I think that's why, you know. If I let myself realize that Iknew, what mysteries would be left?"

"All of them, of course."

"With that in mind, the Hifuu Club was a bust from the start, wasn't it?" I smiled. "Or, on the other hand, its work is never done."

"Does it have to be work? Come now, Renko, we deserve a little fun."

"Well, we are an extracurricular activity... those are supposed to be entertaining... You've won me over." I twirled the fallen bamboo leaf in my hand. "Let's play together in our land of dreams until there are no more games to play, Yukari."

"I would love nothing more, Renko."

And so we passed a lovely night in the bamboo forest. I'm sure that all the nights after will pass happily, too.

After all, we had turned our nightmares into sweet dreams. And therefore...

The city has been filled with the smiles of children.

Naturally, that is.

—目出度し目出度し—