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6005 No. 6005
Technically, I already have a thread for this in >>/th/91774 , but since everyone else apparently theirs here, I figure I might as well make this one here, and simply link to the other thread as a shameless self-promotion rather than bump up a non-story thread.

Move threads? What's that?


No. 6006
Your life was never that spectacular or interesting. As far as you were concerned, you were a fairly normal person. You had a good childhood, a younger brother who was a good kid, you had decent grades in school, and did well in college. Despite this, you only managed to land a job working at a convenience store, but that didn't bother you that much, just the way things happen sometimes. You had some good friends, though a few of them have moved to other towns for careers or family. You're all getting close to your mid-twenties, so it's not surprising some people's lives take them in unexpected directions. It's just the way things are sometimes.

So... what was it in your life that lead you to this point in time, sitting alone in your small apartment, looking at a small lockbox full of money given to you by a woman you saw shoot herself in the head? What did you do to deserve this kind of thing thrust upon you? It's too heavy, far too heavy...


Another average day in the average life of yours. You get off work late, but at least you're not on the midnight shift, and you have something to look forward to. You'd noticed a cart set up along a side road near your store not too long ago, some kind of food grill, run by a woman around your age. She was pretty cute, with brown hair and green eyes, and admittedly she was the reason you even stopped in the first time. You figured you looked like a fool, trying to figure out whatever it was you wanted to order. In reflection, she seemed pretty annoyed with you then, and you can't help but imagine that it was because you were too obviously flustered. She'd warmed up to you since, and you've stopped by there on occasion to eat and chat with the girl. She was pretty good at her job, and made some of the best yakitori you've tasted outside of restaurants. You enjoyed talking to her, and she was always happy to chat a bit, though she never answered much at length when you asked her about herself. The most you got out of her was that her name was Hisako, she lived in the area, and her age was none of your concern. You didn't ever ask her about her skills, or why she's running a food cart, but that didn't matter to you. Everyone has their choices they make.

Tonight was another of those nights. You were planning to drop by the cart again to eat and chat. To be honest, you were hoping to work up the nerve to ask her if she'd like to meet with you some other time, away from the cart. A date, as it were, but you'd deny calling it that if she asked. You expect to get shot down, which is pretty much a bad thing to expect, but hey, it happens and you'd prefer to be prepared for the worst. That way, when it turns out better, you're even more excited. You round the corner where the cart is, and make your way over. Hisako's started to be able to predict your visits, since she's already got your usual order in the process of cooking by the time you arrive. Granted, you do come around on the same days, at generally the same times, though you do appreciate the extra service. This small gesture is what gives you the drive to risk getting closer to her.

“Have a good day?” Hisako asks as you take your usual seat.

“It was average,” you say as she sets a small cup out in front of you. Juice, as usual, you never did really like the taste of alcohol. “How about your day?” you ask in return.

“Average,” she replies with a smile, “couple of random passer-bys, some other regulars that come by for lunch. Not too hectic, a nice laid back day.”

“Sounds about the same for me,” you say, taking a sip from your drink, “though I think you would probably make more money if you moved closer to a busy street.”

“I prefer the isolation,” Hisako replies, without missing a beat, “being out of the way on a rather unimportant side road makes me stand out that much more to the pedestrians that do come by, and since I'm far enough away from other restaurants, I don't have to worry too much about trying to compete against them for customers.”

“I suppose that does make sense,” you say, looking down into your drink. You're trying to summon up the courage to casually drop a mention of getting together, but you're not sure if you should do that now and risk having an awkward meal afterwards, or save it for when you're ready to leave.

“Your usual,” Hisako says, setting a plate out in front of you. Your typical order of yakitori, made perfectly as always. It always manages to make you hungry just looking at it. Eating it is a joy, and as you chew on the meat, you get visions of Hisako in a kitchen, cooking this same yakitori for you. You chase the daydreams away quickly though, you're getting too far ahead of yourself now. You're content with a little roadside stand as it is. Something about the atmosphere of it all just feels good, plus this food would be a lot less magical if it was something you ate every day. You finish in silence, as usual you were too into the food to even consider taking a break, and Hisako's smiling as usual when you finally return to the cart from the land of grilled chicken.

“Good stuff,” you say, breaking the silence before wiping your mouth with a napkin.

“I could tell, since you devoured it like a starved dog,” she replies.

“I can't help it, when I'm given delicious food, I just have to eat it. It's almost unfair the kind of power it has over me,” you comment.

“Enough power to make you come back every week?” Hisako remarks, something you hesitate to reply to at first, if only to keep yourself from saying 'that and your face'.

“Yeah, it's some good stuff, I'd like to know how you got so good,” you say, taking a chance at seeing if you could get a little bit of info out of her. She gives her usual grin she does whenever you asked her about herself, but for once, she actually bothered to give a reply.

“Years and years of hard work,” is all she says, but it's an acceptable answer. You'd imagine that she'd have to have a lot of practice to make it as well as she does. She tops off your juice for you, and you stick around to chat a little bit longer, something of a custom by now. General chatter about recent events, news, and on occasion gossiping about customers that come around. It's another typical weekend.

At some point though, Hisako looks past you, and her smile seems to fade a little. You turn a bit to see what she's looking at, and spot a woman approaching from an intersecting street. Beautiful woman with long black hair, and dressed to kill in an outfit that accentuates her curvy figure. In fact, she looks like a hostess. She's actually approaching the cart it seems.

“Ah, what a cute cart,” she says as she gets close. Hisako's kept her eyes on the woman the entire time. “How's the food here, sir?” she asks, taking a seat right next to you. The scent of perfumes hits you, and she even smells beautiful. You feel a little conflicted now, feeling so drawn to this woman even though you've spent so much time working up the strength to try to make a move on Hisako.

“It's pretty good,” you say, looking aside at Hisako. She looks annoyed, something that you find unusual. “Really good, actually, some of the best.”

“Is that so,” the woman says, turning her attention to Hisako, “then can I have whatever he ordered?”

“Sorry, but I'm out of those ingredients,” Hisako responds with a slight bow.

“Oh, that's not true, right?” the woman asks, folding her hands on the counter, “you don't have any more?”

“Unfortunately,” Hisako says, bowing again. You actually get the impression that Hisako's trying to drive this woman away. The woman drums her fingers a bit in thought.

“Well, I came all the way out to this little place, you've got to have something, right?” the woman inquires.

“Beaks and feet,” Hisako answers, once again without hesitation. The woman chuckles a bit, and then turns to you.

“So, how do you manage to get a meal at such a poor and understocked stand?” she asks you.

“Uh, well...” you stammer, looking at Hisako briefly. She shakes her head, though you're not sure what kind of message she's trying to get across. Whatever the case, you decide to deflect the issue. “I'm sorry, but who are you anyway?” you ask.

“Oh, you don't know me?” she asks, sounding surprised, but she smiles and pulls out a card from a small handbag, turning it over to you. It's a hostess club card, as expected, with the name Eiko Yamada written on it. “I'm a hostess at a nearby club, though the name on the card is my 'night' name, more or less,” she says, and you look up from the card to catch her looking back at you, from having her eyes on Hisako. “I'm not on the job right now though, so if you want you can just call me Kaguya.”

“Right...” you say, looking at Hisako again. She seems really annoyed now, meanwhile Eiko seems to be really amused by something. You can't deny that there is definitely a problem between these two. You're about to speak up in defense of Hisako, when Hisako herself beats you to it.

“Please leave... Kaguya,” Hisako says, hesitating a bit before using her second given name.

“Oh, are you really kicking me out of your cart without even a single skewer?” Eiko says, turning her attention back to the cart

“Yes, now leave,” Hisako spits. Eiko sighs and gets off her seat, but instead of walking away, she goes around the cart, where Hisako tries to stop her.

“Oh, look at all this meat back here,” Eiko says with a grin, looking at the back of the cart as she struggles against Hisako, “looks like you were just lying to me. I suppose we better do something about this.” Eiko manages to shake off Hisako and reaches into the cart, and starts moving something. You hear things falling to the ground on the other side of the cart, and Hisako starts fighting back harder. By this point, you get up, ready to get back there and help your friend chase off this bitch. You round the cart, and see a bunch of plates and meat scattered around the ground, and Eiko laughing as Hisako attempts to push her away from the cart.

“That's enough now,” you say, stepping up to Eiko, but she pushes you aside surprisingly easily. She's unusually strong for how she looks. If that's the case, you're going to put more into it. You step forward again, and put your weight into a push, shoving Eiko aside and breaking her fight up with Hisako. “That's enough!” you shout, trying to take control of the situation. Instead, Eiko steps back and punches you in the stomach and knocks you on your ass. No joke this woman is much stronger than she looks. You're stunned for a second, but not going to let yourself be put down by a single hit. You look up to see Eiko looking down at you, a broad smile on her face.

“You weak little shit, who the fuck do you think you're messing with?” Eiko says, kicking you in the leg. She steps back and turns towards the cart again, and a flash of light erupts from the edge of the cart with a loud crack, and Eiko's head snaps back before her entire body slumps to the ground. It takes a few seconds for what you just saw to register, and by then, Hisako has stepped over the body and fired a gun into Eiko a few more times.

“Oh my god,” is all you manage to get out as you get to your feet, Hisako looks up at you with an unexpectedly pleading expression.

“Don't run, not yet,” she says, walking back behind the cart, “I need you to help me.”

“What? What!? No way, I can't- I mean, I don't even know how to get rid of a body. Oh shit, oh shit!” you ramble, and you're considering just running away anyway.

“Don't worry about that, that's not what I need,” she says, “come back here.” You hesitate for a moment, expecting her to be waiting to shoot you too, though against your better judgment you step back around the cart, passing by the now dead body of Eiko, shot twice in the face and another few shots to the chest. Blood everywhere, it's horrible. You look at Hisako, and you see her emptying her register into a metal lockbox. There's a lot more money in the box than what she could have had in her register. She grabs another few things from the cart, a set of keys, a stack of cards, and closes it all up, and places it on a clear spot on the cart with a sigh.

“What the hell is going on? What-” you start asking questions, but you're quickly cut off by a sharp glare from Hisako, threatening and somehow apologetic at the same time.

“If you weren't here, honestly, it might not have come to this. I'm sorry you got involved and saw this, and I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but if you don't get going soon, there will be police, and it will be a lot of trouble,” Hisako says. She pats the box. “I want you to take this and keep it safe. In a week, bring it to the address inside.”

“Wait, what? Why?” you ask, confused now, and a little hesitant to become accessory to whatever crimes you're now imagining you're involved in.

“Just please, do it,” Hisako says, “this is the last request of Hisako Ishida's.”

“Last reques-” you begin to say, but Hisako manages to cut you off by shooting herself in the head. Your own heart stops for a second, and you try to deny what just happened, but the quickly pooling blood actively works against your best wishes that it didn't just happen, that she didn't just kill herself. You feel a profound sadness wash over you, but it's rapidly replaced by a pants-shitting terror as you begin to hear sirens in the distance. Against your better judgment, you grab the lockbox and run.


It's been a week since that day. More then that, actually, a day over. The killings were in the news, and while there wasn't any reports of anyone looking like you sighted in the area in relation, you've been to afraid to leave the house, even calling in sick to get out of your shifts. Every knock on the door practically has you jumping out of your skin, expecting the police to barge in and shoot you as you sulk in your underwear. Why do you need to bring this box of money? What's the point? What the hell are you even getting in to by considering it? Hisako's dead anyway, why should it even matter?

… Though while you'd love to dismiss it all as pointless, you're equal parts morbidly curious and absolutely terrified. Curious as to what awaits you at the apartment designated on the scrap of paper within, and terrified thinking about how many potential Yakuza are possibly plotting to find and kill you for not delivering whatever dirty money is inside that box. In any case, between being afraid of being arrested, and being afraid of killed by thugs, your fear eventually develops into the kind of insanity that makes a man pack a lockbox full of cash into a duffelbag full of clothes and head outside. 'Going to the gym' is what you'd tell anyone that asked, if you weren't too nervous to even talk to anyone.

The eyes on the street are piercing. The eyes on the subway are burning. Every glance towards you feels like being passed judgment. They don't know, right? They can't know. A girl across from you seems to be looking at you a lot, and you can't help but feel she can see right through you. Like she knows what happened. You keep your head down the entire time until you reach the station you need to go to, then you make your way out. You head up to the street, when the painful eyes wait to glare at you. The apartment you're looking for is really close to the station, it only takes a few minutes to get there and get up to where you need to go, a place close to the top. You dig the lockbox up to the top of the pants and shirts stuffed haphazardly in the bag and turn the key to open it, pulling out the scrap of paper with the apartment number. You head along the doors until you reach your destination. Now that you're here, you can't help but feel that it's a profoundly bad idea to go through with this, but if you run, you'd definitely draw more attention. You take a few deep breaths and knock on the door, paper clutched in your hand.

Nothing. You kind of expected someone to be waiting to open the door instantly, but after a few seconds you hear nothing at all, and you're wondering if maybe you somehow got the wrong place. You knock again after another few seconds, and the door opens halfway through, and your mouth opens as well. Hisako pulls the door open and waves you in, dressed only in a t-shirt and panties.

“Get in here quick,” she says, and you quickly realize that you must be mistaken. Hisako didn't have knee-length white hair and red eyes, but you can't deny the similariti- “Now!” she barks, and you jump, train of thought derailed, you huddle into the apartment as the door is closed behind you. At the sound of the click, your mind explodes.

“What in the name of all that is holy is going on here?” you ask, absolutely confused, horrified and struck by disbelief while simultaneously fishing out the lockbox you kept safe.

“I expected you to be a little bit more inarticulate,” Not-Hisako says as she takes the box from you and pops it open with a nod. “Thanks for keeping this safe for me,” she says after flipping through the money, smiling sincerely. Hisako's smile. You bury your face in your hands.

“I don't- What the hell- How is-” you babble.

“Right, that's closer to what I was expecting,” Not-Hisako says, patting your back, “I'm sure you'd like to know what the fuck is going on, right?”

“Oh shit yes,” you respond, snapping to, “I mean, you're dead!”

“Nope,” Not-Hisako says, “I'm alive. Hisako is the one that died.”

“But, you look and sound just like her, and... but you can't even be her because...” you say, trying to rationalize and deny the fact at the same time.

“Look, just come and sit down,” she says, guiding you into the apartment. You leave your shoes and bag at the door. The place is pretty clean, though sparsely furnished. You're taken to a chair, and the woman leaves you there for a second, heading into the kitchen. You hear her moving around in there for a few seconds, in between bouts of your own mind trying to fight itself. You consider again just running away from this madness. You don't know if you could even understand an explanation at this point. Before you can make up your mind though, Not-Hisako returns with a glass of juice and a plate of yakitori. “You were late, so I wasn't able to make it fresh for you this time,” the woman says, and you just sit in stunned silence for a second before taking the food. Despite the madness, you still pause to eat. There's no doubt about it, no one but Hisako could make this. You sit in silence for a few seconds after you finish eating, trying to let the whole situation settle.

“What the hell happened?” you ask.

“For the record, it's probably best you don't call me Hisako anymore. It would cause some problems, though there's likely to be problems with anything at this point, so...” she pauses with a sigh, “I suppose I'll just be level with you,” she pauses again, taking a deep breath. “My name is Mokou Fujiwara, and I'm immortal.”

You can practically feel the 'are you shitting me?' expression on your face, but given the fact that you are currently looking at and talking to a woman you witnessed shooting herself in the head, you imagine you've probably had that expression since the door opened and you're only now acutely aware of it given this new load of impossible laid out in front of you that you cannot in good faith deny.

“What about the hair and eyes?” you ask, the only conflicting details.

“Scissors, hair dye and coloured contacts,” Mokou says, “it's pretty easy to change your appearance enough with the right make up and such.”

“But, why the...” you trail off, making sweeping motions with your hands away from your head in a gesture you hope can be assumed as meaning 'all this hair' and not 'my head is exploding'.

“My body restores itself to it's original condition when I resurrect,” Mokou says, thankfully catching your vague meaning as she toys with her hair. “It's a bit of a hassle to tend to it myself, but since I didn't have my money, I couldn't really afford to get anything I needed to start to assume a new identity.”

“I don't know what to make of all this,” you say, your head finding your hands again. Mokou sighs.

“I suppose I should start from the top then...” she says. From there, she goes on to explain the series of events that lead up to the current situation, about a mystical realm that existed for a few hundreds years, hidden away in the nearby rural landscape. Separated from the rest of the world by a magical barrier until recently, when the barrier fell away. Magicians, witches, youkai, ghosts, and all sorts of strange and unusual people and creatures escape into the outside world for the first time in hundreds of years. Many of the humans and youkai have taken assumed identities and infiltrated normal society, where they live their lives and live their lives in a new world. While the youkai should have lost their power without people actively believing in them, the more clever ones realized that it's easier for people to believe in the existence of a person than a mythical creature, they use their assumed identities to meet as many people as possible and spread 'belief'.

All of it sounds like a complete load, but the fact that you are hearing all of this from someone who has recently gotten over a terminal case of being dead, you can't help but have a small nagging belief that it's true.

“I don't know what to make of all this,” you say, rubbing your head, “I'd say it was all bullshit if it weren't for the fact that you're sitting here right now, not dead.”

“Yeah, though it's easier to get out of a morgue than a prison. You'd definitely have no room to doubt if Kaguya was here too,” Mokou says.

“Why's that?” you ask, not even attempting to think of the reason.

“Kaguya's an immortal as well. She's in the same boat as me here, so whatever life she had before her 'murder' as Eiko is over, she's got to start from scratch too, and she had a much more 'prestigious' and high class lifestyle than I did,” Mokou says, smirking a little.

“I'm not sure if I should be a little relieved that she's... 'okay' too, or utterly disturbed that you seem to get some joy out of the thought of killing her,” you say.

“Would it bother you to say that I do?” Mokou asks.

“Uh, yes, a bit,” you reply.

“Well, that's a shame. She was the one that killed me last time, so I owed her one,” Mokou admits, as if being murdered was no big thing.

“This is insane,” you say, shaking your head and sitting back in your chair.

“Well, look on the bright side of things,” Mokou says. You look at her with some slight doubt there could be a bright side. “At least you still have a chance to ask me out on a date.” Your mouth drops again, and Mokou laughs.

“But, wait, I- we-” you blabber, trying to deny such a thing for whatever reason.

“Oh please! You really think it wasn't obvious from the first time you sat down at my cart?” she asks, pretty much pegging you from the start. “I even played into it hoping you would, since I was trying to lead a normal life for once, but that was pretty much ruined.”

“Wait, wait, you were hoping I would make a move on you?” you ask, more dumbfounded by this revelation than any other.

“What, you think I like being alone forever?” Mokou asks with a defiant tone. “Even if I outlive all my partners, I still enjoy having relationships,” she pauses for a second, a smile slowly spreading across her lips, “actually, come to think of it, you already know I'm immortal, so my biggest secret is already out in the open. That would definitely make it easier for me.”

“This is nuts, I don't even know what to say,” you state.

“Oh stop whining. I'll go get dressed, and put in some contacts at least and we'll go somewhere. I'll even pay,” Mokou offers, getting out of her seat and heading off to get ready. You consider stopping her, but change your mind. After all you've heard and what you know now, you can't deny you're a part of whatever madness comes with the existence of immortals, magical creatures and spiritual animals you've come to learn exist in your city.

Needless to say, your ordinary life got much less ordinary from that day on.


Yet another potential CYOA idea intro-pitch. Basically, I was inspired by a mental image of Alice fighting a bunch of thugs in an alley of modern Japan with semi-invisible dolls, and wondered what I could do with it. Naturally, the first thing that came to mind was 'Hey, I wonder if I can use World of Darkness to do this!'

I dug out my sourcebooks, read them through and then proceeded to ignore them anyway and go about it. In the end though, I think I might aim for that same kind of style. At the very least, the lots of them will be following a sort of Masquerade in modern times, while trying to extend their influence. It'd be a slice-of-lifey-pseudo-investigative affair with some tension and potential new world youkai politics. Mostly though, it's about watching girls pretend to be normal people during the day that fire lasers at each other to settle rent disputes, boyfriend theft and other petty issues at night.
No. 6008
>boyfriend theft
Oh boy, imagine the fallout when said boyfriend becomes collateral damage.
No. 6010
I like this a lot
No. 6012
I liked this, but I also found it oddly depressing. I don't know why. Might be because I was reading up on Mulholland Drive just before.
No. 6017
No. 6018
Haha, dating an immortal.
No. 6019
Nice, I enjoyed it.
No. 6021
I do like this.
No. 6038
Do it do it do it do it.
No. 6039
No. 6043

I wonder just how much support that has for starting.
No. 6044

It depends. Since you still have other stories, I think it's better to focus on finishing those first.

Stll, are Reimu, Marisa, Sanae and Sakuya still alive in this story(dating immortal)?
No. 6045
I'm really digging this Dating Immortal story. I just think the concept is really fresh and could really work as a good story. CYOA I don't quite know about though, possibly as one but not with nearly as many choices as an usual CYOA.
No. 6047
This seems like a golden idea. I enjoyed this little sample.

Just don't forget about your other stories.
No. 6048

All the regular cast is still present. It's basically assuming that for whatever reason, the Hakurei barrier just failed one day. Since it's just an idea currently, I haven't put a lot of work into building the setting up and figuring everything out.

I'll be getting back to writing soon too. October seemed to have a new game I wanted every week. Dead Rising 2, Civilization 5, Sengoku BASARA 3, Fable 3, RDR Undead Nightmare, New Vegas, etc. It's like every time I get a new game, I play it for 3 days and start to get over it, and then WHOA SHIT ANOTHER GAME

Now, I shouldn't be getting anything new until Christmas, or at least a few days afterwards.


Even though I did just say I didn't have much of the setting planned, I do have an idea for the overall 'story' as it were. Mokou's not the only one in the city, after all, and the ex-Gensokyo residents do still keep in touch and have their own little sub-community. It'd largely be exploring the 'dark side' of civilization populated by monsters in disguise, which is why I considered sticking to World of Darkness rules and making it closer to a Quest thread rather than a traditional CYOA.
No. 6388
In the Human Village, it's not too uncommon for a few youkai to live, having grown accustomed to the lives of humans, or born as children to youkai-human families. Several of them run specialty stores and shops, open all night and closed during the day to cater to their kind. One such place, located almost directly in the middle of the markets and shops quarter, is a popular tailor and boutique that caters to human and youkai needs alike. The fashion conscious, existing even in Gensokyo, congregate to this place as a sort of fashonistas mecca, though to be honest, that's not the primary source of business for this shop. The primary source of income, and the largest volume of work it gets, is repairs.

“Senko, are you done yet?” Mystia whines from the front of the store, arms folded over her chest in a mix of impatience and embarrassment, as she is covered only by a slip. In the rear of the store, through a door bordered by pink curtains, is a young lady with short white hair, kept tied into a small bun, and capped with a pink lacy bun cover, tied off with a ribbon. She quickly and expertly stitches closed the shoulder of the piece she's working on, restoring Mystia's top after a particularly lengthy battle with Wriggle. Mystia had gone off disparaging insects within earshot of Wriggle and then taken off laughing. This lead to a fight that Mystia lost, and of course, her shirt got pretty much ruined. So, she brought it here, to Senko Itohime, so that she could get it repaired, or at least remade. As the tailor youkai finishes off the stitching, she ties the thread and breaks it off before holding up the completed restoration. A perfectly faithful recreation, a perfect match. Content with her job, Senko carries it back to the front of the shop and holds it out for Mystia, who is only too glad to have it back.

“Here you are, Myschii,” Senko says with a smile as the bird youkai puts her dress back on.

“I wish I had your ability, Senko,” Mystia lightly complains as she slides into her clothes.

“It's not that great, really,” Senko replies humbly, “all it's really good for is repairing damaged clothes.”

“That's still handy,” Mystia continues whining, “I would save a lot of time and money if I could recreate anything I see.”

“You'd think so, but it's not quite as easy as that,” Senko adds, “it's still a lot of hard work.” Mystia fishes through a small bag she had left on a chair and withdraws a few bills, handing them over to Senko.

“Well, thanks for your hard work then, as always,” Mystia says with a smile, “I'll try to take better care of myself,” she says, taking up her bag and heading towards the door, muttering “I still don't know what was up with Wriggle though,” as she leaves, with Senko behind her to switch the sign around to close the store temporarily. The closing door to the tailor's shop sees a reflection of Senko's knowing smile.

No, you wouldn't know, Senko muses to herself, turning back to the rear of the store and entering the back room. She passes through this, and continues on to her home in the absolute back of the building, where another perfect recreation of Mystia's outfit, down to the tiniest detail, lay discarded on the bed. Right where she left it. Recreating anything I see is a lot harder than you think, Mystia, Senko monologues to herself as she undoes her own light blue blouse, shedding it and her black skirt as she picks up the duplicate of Mystia's clothes and steps over to her wardrobe, pushing it aside to expose a larger closet behind it, filled with more duplicates of all kinds. Senko carefully hangs up her Mystia outfit, and shifts over to a blue one-piece with white triangular detail around the hem of the skirt. Nah, too hard and not enough pay off, Senko thinks to herself, moving along the rows until she comes to a simple outfit. A white blouse with red tie and belt, and a blue skirt. Not entirely unlike what she was just wearing. Smiling to herself, Senko takes it all out and leaves the closet, moving her normal wardrobe back into place. She puts on the new clothes, taking care to replicate all the little details in how they're normally worn by their originator. Removing the ribbon from her hair, Senko lets down her white hair, which barely reaches mid back, but a quick run of her fingers causes the length to grow down to her waist, while the colour shifts to the perfect shade of purple. With a little extra ruffling and magic, a pair of white, crooked and rumpled-looking rabbit ears sprout from her head. Smiling at her duplication, her eyes change from their typical golden colour to red with a blink of her eyes. It's a foolproof duplicate. Only the real Reisen would know the difference by appearance.

“Now then, ti- ehem,” Senko says, her voice cracking slightly and she pauses to clear her throat a bit, “time, time, time,” she repeats, even her voice now starting to match Reisen's, “time to go play in the forest.”

Had there been anyone watching the alleyway behind the tailor, they'd have sworn they saw Reisen leaving by the back door.


I don't remember what served as the inspiration for this idea, but lately I've been thinking of it a lot and I really, really like it. A youkai tailor with the power to recreate anything she sees, using her power to impersonate the cast and cause trouble, all so that their inevitable danmaku battles lead to clothing damage that she repairs for profit.

I think it might be something better suited to a non-interactive story though, since it's prospect as a CYOA is kind of limited given the goal.
No. 6389
In the end she'll end up like all Youaki trouble makers: a run in with Reimu and a mugging at that.
No. 6393
I like this idea a lot.

>I think it might be something better suited to a non-interactive story though, since it's prospect as a CYOA is kind of limited given the goal.

I don't think so at all. Tearing off clothes for fun & profit is just the excuse to get her to interact. Her ability seems pretty much unbounded in scope, so who knows what else may come of it?

Senko - 全子 - 'Omni-Girl'?
Senko - 千子 - '1000 Girls'?
No. 6403

I was leaning towards 'Thousand Girls' myself, due to the fact that she makes a con out of impersonating other people, and that reading of the characters would make sense for that aspect.

Of course, it always bothers me a bit when I come up with new ideas for stories and characters, since I already have a lot on my plate with the stories I have out already. These things stew in my head and start to overwhelm me with my desire to write them... maybe I'll just sneak Senko into something else...
No. 6404
No offense but she kinda comes off as a plot device incarnate if put into a story. If it was any worse, she'd be the chronic "Long forgotten childhood friend that appears when the lead guy and girl are about to kiss/become a couple/etc."
No. 6405
I doubt that a few off-hand mentions of a certain youkai tailor would completely throw a story for a loop.