"....And before you all go, I'd just like to remind you that your term papers are due next time we meet. No fewer than twenty pages, remember! This is worth a quarter of your final grade, so take it seriously!" You professor proceeds to glare fiercely at your classmates, as they chat amongst themselves and pack their things up.

Very few of them take note, and even fewer really care.

...You, however, are on the verge of panic. Since, you know. This is literally the first time you've ever heard of this paper at all.

...And holy shit, if you lose that many points off your grade, your scholarship's sunk. ...And if you lose your scholarship, and end up having to go home...

'Literal murder' would probably be a good description of your family's reaction. They never were very accepting of failure. To say the least.

Your head strikes the surface of your desk with a loud thud, as you take a moment and allow your self-pity to consume you. You're going to need to go on the run. Change your name, leave the country, maybe work on a freighter for a while. As long as you don't use your real name, and switch ships a couple times, it'll be pretty hard to track you down. Maybe one day, they'll stop looking for you...

"...Um, are you alright?" A concerned voice breaks into your reverie, as your father's agents finally locate your new family, living under an assumed name.

"...what?" You ask, dully, lifting your face to meet the worried gaze of your professor.

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Orders, orders. Always bloody orders. Deliver this, break that. Never time to rest, never time to reflect. Only those insistent orders.

Your current orders were to infiltrate the building, carefully edit some data in their database, and return home unobserved.

It had almost gone perfectly. Getting in had been a trivial matter of engineering multiple 'false' alarms, and then waiting for the security to leave. The actual hacking was child's play compared to what you were capable of, but an unfortunate spark had caused a fire and you had been spotted escaping the burning building.

Hiding in the forest on the outskirts of the city, the sounds of the search all around you. The security firm apparently wants me dead, while the police want me for arson of all things. Just wonderful. Right now being anywhere else seems like a good idea, and with that thought lingering in my head I feel a pull through a place that should not be before tumbling out onto a misty riverbank. As the rift snaps shut I feel my connection to the outside cut, and my vision begins to fade. The last thing I see is the river rise to meet me, and sparks echo in the blankness of my head.

My last order rises in my memory. Return home.

**********

I pick myself up off the cold damp ground, and brush the dirt and stones off face.

Looking around in the darkness, I see shapes begin to form as my vision adapts. Neat gaps between perfectly trimmed shrubs, shadows of cherry trees rising proud over islands of vegetation.

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Being a second son really isn’t as bad as it’s made out to be.

Ichiro, he has First Son Things he has to do. He has to learn to smelt. He has to learn to forge. He has to learn to track requests, and inventory, and accounts. Poor guy has to inherit.

You, on the other hand, are simply expected to avoid bringing shame on the family. If you wanted, you could study alongside your brother, or train to join the village guard, or work at old Murata’s noodle cart. Hell, if you didn’t have a dream to chase, you would be working at old Murata’s cart for sure; the old man doesn’t have any heirs, and it would be a shame to let his accumulated expertise with bowl and broth simply go to waste when age finally catches up with him.

A damn shame. That old fogey is a culinary miracle worker. His kitsune udon is so unbelievably delicious that you’ve actually had conversations with youkai over it. Terrifyingly powerful youkai, at that.

Maybe if he’s still around when you’ve secured eternity for yourself, you can learn his recipes.

But that’s the important part, isn’t it? It’s the reason you didn’t learn the ways of the noodleman (shame it’s not the time for one more bowl), the reason you aren’t studying steel (making it or breaking it, they still come down to the same thing), the reason you left home (hopefully there will be time to write to mother and father) and made your way here. To these gates that are nowhere and everywhere, appearing and disappearing with a pattern and schedule that few understand. The way the said it, figuring out where to find the damn things was the first test for prospective apprentices.

It’s a good thing the residents of the gate’s other side announced themselves to Gensokyo. You doubt your family would have reacted well had you sought assistance from the scattered magicians of the land, or those strange Buddhist monsters.

“You’re seriously taking them up on it?”

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[x] Scout the mountain's damages

"No, sorry. I got something to do." Marisa makes a bit of a face at you, that seems to signify that it can't be helped.

"Ah, well, that's okay then. I had some questions to ask ya, but that can wait I suppose. But hey, next time you got some free time, swing by my place in the magic forest and let's talk a bit, okay?" You're not entirely sure as to why the witch is interested in you, but you give a quick nod before seeing her off. You're left to your own devices now.

You'd like to tell Yukari about what happened, but you feel as if she would be indifferent to it, making the action meaningless in the end. If she isn't going to do anything about it, you may as well try in her stead. You have a lot of things you'd like to investigate here, but first thing's first, you need to check what kind of damages the mountain has incurred. The demon swarm seemed to have been ignoring most of the landscape, but you did witness a catastrophic battle between the horde and the many tengu that you assumed lived here. It's obvious what happened to those who opposed the raging hellstorm, nothing could stand up to such might all at once. Though you're certain they slowed much of it down, which helped you and Reimu deal with the onslaught for a while, you're positive that the tengu and any others who fought here lost. If you're lucky, maybe you can find a few survivors and help them.

As you start making your way down the mountain, your worst fears are confirmed. You didn't think the demons had any interest in the mountain themselves, but the many people who fought back against the blanket of darkness inadvertently turned the mountain into a torn up battlefield that more closely resembles a wasteland then any of the previous beauty of Gensokyo. Along the way you walk past the ruins of several encampments, many fallen trees and broken rocks, signs of battle and desperate struggle, and worst of all, plenty of dead bodies. What irks you most is that only a scant few belong to the demons that flew overhead. Many of the corpses you see appear human... but you

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“It's very nice of the two of you to take me in,” you say, “even temporarily.”

The girl across the table from you stares. Her eyes glow with a color you are almost sure should not come from any human being's eyes. Then again, you're almost sure this girl isn't human, though she might just be mutated, the subject of some malicious ritual, or any other of a variety of things. A curve travels down her tails, like a message sent across a pair of tin can telephones—one duplicate, in case of limp string or cut wire. She says nothing, only fixes you against the wall behind you with that unearthly gaze.

You think you would like the other woman to come back soon. She seemed nicer, even if she did have more tails.

“So, I didn't catch your name,” you say, in an effort at admittedly meaningless conversation. Anything would be better than awkward silence, you suppose.

You are wrong. The gaze intensifies. You are the plague-bearing insect pinned to the card point. You are the first hint of water damage against a white wall. You are the embarrassing childhood photograph taken in the moment your eyes were closed. You really don't like that photograph.

The girl doesn't seem to like it, either. “I didn't tell you my name,” she hisses, and the two of you lapse into silence. You're silently debating with yourself whether it would be worth the risk to ask her if you've offended her when the other woman returns.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” she says, although her stone-faced expression casts doubt on the presence of any actual sorrow—which is not to say you can glean nothing from her countenance. Her gaze is just as sharp as her less-tailed companion's, but in a different way. If you are the insect, she is the entomologist. “What did you say your name was, again?”

The girl's head swivels away from you with a rapidity reached only by the most aerodynamic of spinning teacups.

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[x] Calm down, try to find her through other senses

Ugh, no, you can't get too worked up, no matter how much your body may want to. You close your eyes and try to calm yourself down. Your hearing is obviously not going to work in your favor anymore, and your sight isn't doing much good. It's time to rely on a special sense that you've felt since coming here. The aura that Chen emits, that peripheral vision marking the Yakumo family that you don't necessarily see, but can feel. With Chen so close to you, it's difficult to pin point where Chen is exactly, but after a brief moment, you think you got it. It becomes astonishingly clear the moment Chen opens fire on you once again.

With a quick slash, the bullets are blocked. All of them deflect harmlessly upon your spear. You got it. But the battle isn't over. More bullets approach you from the side. Those get blocked too. More bullets are fired and consequently vanquished in the blink of an eye. You're getting the hang of this, but you're finding it harder and harder to control that burning, fiery sensation in your chest. That feeling that's lighting your body on fire. It seems that no matter how much you may want to cool down, your body continues heating up like an out of control forest fire.

It needs to end. Now.

"Is Satoya wising up? Come on, catch Chen!"

You can see her. The brighter the fire burns, the more obvious Chen's aura becomes. She shifts through the trees at remarkable speed. But it's a predictable pattern. It isn't long until...

"Hah! Ah...huh? Sato--"

Chen's bullets had hit nothing. She stopped for a brief second to wonder and try and pin point your location.

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Among many of the curious facts surrounding the figure of Prince Shotoku, one of the least known of all is that he acquired a profound liking for mochi in his final years of life. When he proposed to create a Society of Rice Cakes and Sweets, the then Emperor of Japan asked his wife for advice. Soga no Tojiko, experienced at cooking all kinds of desserts, pastries and other kinds of food, said this to her husband:

"My husband, there have been many a cook who had excelled in the art of making sweets. Especially if we speak of mochi, for the quality of the cook who tryeth to make such a popular dessert can be easily surveyable by anyone. Therefore, I advise thou to halt pondering on the matter of that Society of Cakes, if thou still hath a spock of self-esteem left in thee."

On the other hand, Prince Shotoku's most esteemed friend, Mononobe no Futo, was also against his lord's sudden interest in learning how to cook sweets, and about the same time he sent a letter to the Emperor:

"My friend, I humbly ask thee to abandon thine idea of becoming a cook. It is fairly probable that my prejudices are clouding my sight, but sadly they do not lull my palate."

At this point, Prince Shotoku was forced to choose between his reputation as the Emperor of Japan and his newfound passion for cooking, and he picked the latter. Unfortunately for both. He dedicated his remaining life to master the art of making mochi, and to avoid conflicts with his wife and his friend, he decided to use a pen-name: Prince Shotaku. Soga no Tojiko got wind of this and sent another letter to her husband:

"My husband, if thou usest that pseudonym, everybody will know that not only I am married to a talentless cook, but I am also the wife of an idiot who may have an attraction to young children."

Prince Shotoku admitted that Tojiko was in the right once again, and so he changed his alias: Toyosatomimi no Miko. This finally solved the problem with his wife and his friend, but was also the cause of many complaints and penal charges from seventy-three shrine maidens who did not want their holy profession to be associated in any way with th

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Thread 1: >>24467


The Clock:

The (x) after an option depicts how many units of time it will take to execute that option. Encounters differ with the period of time the protagonists are in as well as where they are at that specific time. Unless specified, all options are assumed to take one unit of time. Each "phase" contains two units of time.

The phases of time are: Dawn -> Sunrise -> Noon -> Sunset -> Dusk -> Moonrise -> Midnight -> Moonset -> Dawn -> ...

Inventory:

Unlike other stories, the protagonists' inventory is not a bag of holding. Don't think you can act like a packrat and take everything in tow; the story will specify whether you can take something or if you need to put something down in order to take the object in question with you.

This information is here so the reader knows what he/she is getting into when they choose an option. Thank you for reading this notice!

This is a practice story, to see if I’m truly cut out for this CYOA thing. Hopefully it doesn’t go off with too many problems.
----------------------------

“We are all haunted, all of us, by things we can see and feel and guess at, and many more things that we can't.”

~ Beth Gutcheon ~
----------------------------

Lying in the shade of one of many verdant trees that makes up a little grove just on the outskirts of my village, a young man cozily reads about local legends long past in faraway kingdoms he’s never been. While he may never experience such an adventure himself, he doesn’t mind too badly. He takes to reading any chance he can get, briefly eluding the toils of his work as apprentice to a knowledgeable weapons manufacturer. Contrary to what images may emerge to someone told about his looming profession, the boy really has no wishes to go out and pursue a life of defending the village or hunting potentially threatening youkai. He simply wanted to make something useful for the other men to do, they being far more built and daring to fit the life of a soldier or hunter. Not only that, risking his life in such a gruesome manner would be directly infringing on the duties of the shrine maiden, the local celebrity everybody knows about regardless of their race. So there he sits, his shoulders dug into the exposed base of this oak tree, enjoying a lunch break for all it’s worth.

While it’s certainly a good book, I must admit I’ve grown tired of reading it over and over. There are only so many different selections to choose from in our undersupplied library, as proud of it as we may be. Eventually, one will come to realize he has perused every single text to be found, and must then make a choice to either give up the habit or reread something he already knows by heart. To deny myself the privilege to written works is unheard of, much like the passerby who keeps a package of food all to himself without any though for the monks he may pass. So I’ve come to rotate through stories quite familiar to me by now, always sitting here in the lap of a mighty tree—when the weather permits—usually with a light snack to gratify

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We all know how the stories go. Someone gets lucky, stumbles upon the border to Gensokyo, penetrates it, and proceeds to romance its denizens. Each time the story proceeds under a pretense: You are special, you are unique, and perhaps you are even the first one in.

Stories are fiction.

The records place the number of former outsiders who entered during the last two years at 1125, not counting outsiders who perished before documentation. True, there are only a few living outsiders active in Gensokyo as of your knowledge, but that is not a good sign.

The causality rate is so high that the villagers have given up properly burying the corpses, and began leaving them out for the animals and feral youkai to feast on at their leisure.

Not like they don’t deserve it.

Some of the records of death in Akyu’s house contain annotations, for when the reason is more interesting than just “fell off cliff”, “eaten”, or “poisoned in the Forest of Magic”.

#1124, committed suicide after love confession rejected by Hakurei shrine maiden.

#1106, brutally dismembered after attempted molestation of Netherworld gardener during shrine festival.

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