BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4qzII8hse4 (Organ Smash)
… It’s been a few days since Patchouli Knowledge has chewed out Yukari Yakumo. Exactly one week ago, Yukari had brought in yet another gappy, which she personally blasted into Misty Lake.
The Hakurei Shrine is still in lack of a shrine maiden, something that has been weakening the barrier for quite some time. In fact, people have gone missing from Gensokyo… several key figures, in fact.
Aya: “We regret to say that the investigation into the disappearance of Remilia Scarlet has failed to turn up any leads. Furthermore, we have seen a cluster of new people in Gensokyo, each with a personal letter from Yukari. She claims to ‘need a shrine maiden and some investigators.’ Currently, the prisoners are being held at Rin’s office.”
Aya: “Although I think the darned shrine maiden replacement snuck off again. A few of the fairies have reported seeing her making a beeline for the Hakurei Shrine.”

… A few hours later…
You finally regain consciousness. You don’t know how long you’ve been out after that lady punched you in the face. You remember having confronted a girl in purple one moment, and the very next thing you knew, you were in a forest getting punched.
And now you’re in a very dimly lit office. Do they not have electricity here? And where are your captors hiding? Why were you captured? Questions swirl around in your head, lost and confused.
Wait... there’s the dim glow of a television here.
???: “This is Aya, bringing you a special news report. The wicked hermit Seiga has been dead next to the corpse of one Adolf Hitler. Her last words were, according to Nazrin, ‘The body – it’s too warm!’ We all mourn her passing.”
Aya… now that’s a name you’ve heard before. Didn’t she have some… choice words about Donald Trump? And did she just say Hitler? As you think, you hear a door open.
???: “Would you please come in? I can take the next stranger.”
… Nobody orders you around. But just as you think that, you feel something give you a strong push.
Quoth the femini

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The arrogant and determined youth.

Previous thread >>61752
New Character blurbs: www.touhou-project.com/others/moretheater.txt

--

“You're full of crap!” Suika exclaimed, waving a mostly empty bottle at me. The weak yellow light made deep shadows, making her seem more menacing than her tone would imply. “Maybe telling me that you were forced would have worked if I didn't know you so well,” she grumbled, making the rest of the beer in her bottle foam up to the neck, “in the past you've made a big show of wanting to help broads for what you said were totally not-selfish reasons.”

Remembering that she was shaking her beer, Suika paused and finished the rest in one large gulp. Froth stuck to her lips. Almost immediately she fetched another pair of bottles, tossing me one even though I wasn't quite done with mine yet. “You may have been pressured but I get the feeling you could have walked away after a certain point. You care about this stuff, whether you admit it or not to me.”

“Well, running for vice president wasn't my idea, at least that much is true,” I told her, dodging the direct accusation. “I don't think I've changed that much, I mean, I'm here with you, aren't I?”

“Yeah, for now,” she said, eyeballing her beer intensely. Offering a shrug first, she took a large swig.

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This is a continuation of Memories of Dire Situations and Circumstances ( >>/shorts/1862 ) moved to a new board.



Well, I suppose checking up on the other elements wouldn't do any harm - don't want to adventure off in an unknown land without knowing my limits.

Channeling my energy inward, I soon find myself in the landscape of my mind.

All around me are fields of verdant grass hills, a small creek flowing in between the mounds, and small oak trees standing upon the peak’s of the hills. Glancing around I don't notice any of the spirits in the immediate area, so I make my way towards the top of one of the hills.

As I reach it's peak I notice a small trembling in the earth, a hole appearing in the ground in front of me as I am confronted by a large creature made of rock.

As it rises from the earth, it’s giant stone hands propelling itself upwards. As I try to get a better look at it, I realize it is Terroc, the spirit of earth. Unlike the others, he prefers his natural form over his humanoid form. He stands a shocking three meters tall, his body is covered in specks of moss and iron - being a defense against monstrous forces. His forearms are lined with an assortment of gems that harden at times to land devastating punches. His three fingers don't leave much in the way of imagining how he crushes his enemies. Perhaps the most unusual part of his form is his lack of proper feet, he instead rolls around on a boulder made of different mixtures of ores. He says it helps his mobility in combat and honestly I agree.

No matter how many times I’ve seen him, he always frightens me, I think to myself. I know his personality is very docile and kind, however his appearance is that of a juggernaut.

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You are a 20-year-old young lad. (You don’t know it, but today’s the day you’ll make one of the most important choices in your life.) You live in some generic American city and lead a generic life: single, kinda lonely, and…

[ ] Working an office job. It’s nothing too simple or too hard.
[ ] Working as an independent developer/designer/animator/whatever. You get contracts and then get money.
[ ] Working a white collar job, in which you lead… something of some sort. It’s complicated being a manager of a minor technology company.
[ ] You work a no-collar job. You have the top position of all existing staff at a decent pub. It’s understaffed, but there are hardly ever any fights.

Furthermore, your experience with bullet hells is…

[1] Baka. You are the person who dies three seconds into Icicle Fall (Easy) by standing in the safe spot. If the bullet was a Goomba, you’d always jump into it.
[2] Decent. In a Touhou game, you’d make it to stage 4 without using up all your bombs.
[3] Hardly something to scoff at. Lunatic difficulty and thereabouts are a pain to deal with, still. But you can manage, even if you end up at one health and no bombs.
[4] Phantasm. You can go toe-to-toe with the likes of Gengetsu, Yukari, and Evil Eye Sigma.
[5] Ultimortal. You’ve dealt with nearly-impossible patterns before, and have come out on top. However, a non-Touhou shrine maiden shooting game’s Extra boss is proving to be hopeless…
[6 (locked)] The Guy. You have bested fruit, spike and moon. You can make it through the Absurdly Extra stage of Reactivate Majestical Imperial, if barely. That last spellcard, though... Seriously, that's just mean.

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The absolutes of youth.

Previous thread >>61249
New Character blurbs: www.touhou-project.com/others/moretheater.txt

---

I chewed Aya out, telling her this and that. I wasn't her plaything and certainly it wasn't worth humiliating myself for a favor. I'd helped her out in the past, after all. Even if it had been for money.

She seemed to take it well, looking at me with an unaffected smile. Aya didn't cross her legs or otherwise move, letting me finish saying my piece before finally showing signs of an actual reaction.

“A politician with a choleric temperament” she quipped, “that always bodes well for his career. I can see why they've ensured that you'll run unopposed. I'd write it up, but I think the truth will come out sooner or later.”

“Is that all you have to say?” I asked, feeling deflated. Without any direct pushback, I was just getting myself worked up for no reason.

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The day to day of true youth.

Previous thread >>60834
Character blurbs: www.touhou-project.com/others/theater

--

After a brief phone call, I left home. She said she was already in town and, judging by the background noise, in a busy area. I was supposed to meet her at a plaza in the town center. She said she had a few things to take care of, but that she'd be delighted to spend time with me. Naturally, I made haste. I was looking forward to seeing her.

Since it was a normal business day, the center was crowded as usual. It was the tail end of the lunch hour. Salarymen of all stripes walked back and forth in groups, talking and joking about work and life. Once I got to the plaza, I started looking around.

Ah, there she was!

Standing under the shade of a tree, Tenshi was checking her wristwatch, looking bored. With her tall boots, skirt and thin top, and jumper tied around her waist, she looked older than she really was. If not for her long, carefully kept hair, I could have mistaken her for a different person. I supposed that I was used to running into her while she had her uniform on. Not that change was bad. Quite the opposite. It made me happy to see someone who knew how to dress well.

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A jet of sunlight burns through your half-closed blinds, forcing you to wake from your much-needed sleep. Closing the blinds fully, your bedroom enters into a familiar darkness. You blink a couple of times before rousing yourself out of bed. Your high school diploma, the pride of your recent years, remains tacked onto the wall, permanently enclosed as a plaque. The world seems heavy today, despite your willingness to get up. You heave yourself over to the washroom. A groggy face in the mirror greets you as you wash up, fit with unkempt hair. How lovely. A quick wash in the shower quickly fixes that, however. As you tidy up and put on a change of clothes, you fully open the blinds. A view of the city awaits you, or at least as much as you can see before everything is cut off by a towering building. Still, you were glad to be awake! You have no time to waste. Your clock glares '7:25 A.M.' at you with bold, red letters, reminding you that you have an interview with the newspaper agency in thirty-five minutes. Which is plenty of time. Finally, you'll get to have a job of your own! You at look yourself in the mirror. "Yes!" you exclaim. "I'm ready."

…Or you would be, if the story would ever fucking update. This time, you wake up for real. Your throat’s dry, your hair’s a mess, and it’s godawful 7:25 A.M. in the middle of Saturday. Throwing off your stained gray shirt two sizes too big for you, you put on a black tank, also two sizes too big for you. You don’t even bother to deal with your hair – it’s unsalvageable. Your lips are cracked dry so you pacify the pain by licking them because it hurts like shit when you don’t even though it hurts like shit when you do all because you forgot to buy that fucking chap stick when you totally could have when you went to the convenience store a day ago buying cheap-ass beer, stale ramen, and three bars of Three Musketeers now all half-eaten and in the trash because you forgot they taste like ass.

It could be worse. You could be a total bitch.

…God, your lips fucking h

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The special kind of knowledge found in youth.


Previous thread >>59947
Character blurbs: www.touhou-project.com/others/theater

-

There really wasn't much to the errand.

The library was almost entirely empty. With no upcoming exams and the senior class all but gone from the school, only those who were legitimately interested in reading stayed behind after class. In a modern society like ours, that meant just a handful of people sitting here and there. It also meant that I found the person I needed to talk to right away.

The girl with a soft and melodious voice smiled as she handed me the form I needed to fill out. I wasn't sure if it was out of habit or genuine politeness. Funny that I hadn't ever noticed her before. I didn't usually spend time with underclassmates but redheads tended to stand out. Still, I felt that there was something more than her than our routine exchange may have shown. Or maybe I was just hopeful. I guess I did prefer girls with a little devilish streak in them.

There wasn't much of a chance for small talk. I had what I needed and she made no effort to prolong the encounter.

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The boldness and beauty of youth.


Previous thread >>59459
Character blurbs: www.touhou-project.com/others/theater

--



The night life in a city usually peaked the closer it was to the weekend. In the middle of the week only the more hardcore pleasure-seekers and miscreants stayed out late and partied. I was lucky to count myself among their number. I had no problem waiting until it got dark and the seedy underbelly of the city really came to life. I didn't run with too excessive a crowd so I was sure that the little money I had would more than cover the price of admission for a night of fun.

I alternated between sitting at a park bench and walking around aimlessly, observing the transition from day to night. Small businesses closed first. Then came the salarymen in a zombie-like stream from their offices to the train station. Then people like me started appearing. People looking for a good time, walking with a special someone or looking for that special someone – sometimes willing to buy their company for a little while. In the side streets and back alleys, tough-looking types would also appear. It was best to steer clear from them as they often passed the time in cruel and unusual ways.

“Do you want to go there tonight?” I overheard a conversation between two university-aged guys wearing flashy clothes and way too much cologne. I was walking just behind them, trying to make up my mind on where to go.

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Prologue: Dancing Days

Her song wakes you up. The guitar tickles your spine. The drum measures out the beats of your heart. You listen. The singer is different, the instrumentation.

The territory is strange. You know the shape of it.

"Dancing Days," the Stone Temple Pilots cover, pipes over the tinny bus speakers, one right over your dreaming head. The sound is just louder than the rain pattering on the roof and against the windows. You can't ignore the song, but you try to focus on the rain. It anchors you in time.

You are moving to your new home.

You feel the slight but distinct weight of your medication in your pocket. Not now. Not yet.

You pass the last hour of the ride in a silent haze. If not the song, the constant lurching of the bus as it pulled into stops hardly several blocks apart would have shaken you awake. It's needless how many stops there are; you almost wonder if the route itself is mocking you.

Your memory is coming in fits and stops now, struggling against the rain and cold; the sharp smell of old whiskey, the color and angle of the sun. A much-loved copy of "Houses of the Holy" playing on a well-worn player seated on her front porch. The nature of that last smile.

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