You open your eyes again, but you don’t see the dark streets of the city, disgruntled passersby, or fellow drunkards. Instead, it’s the warm glow of a quiet kitchen — her kitchen. It was cozy, as was the rest of the house — distinctly upper-class, but not big enough for servants. That was her dowry, absurd as it was. When you discovered it had been the house she stayed in since she was a child, things made a lot more sense: it had never really been your home. It was the princess’s playhouse, where she could pretend.

Just like now. Washing dishes. She was good at that — cleaning. It’s no wonder why. She turns away from the running water with the most delicate smile you’ve ever seen. “Another late night?”

You lean on the wall, keeping the length of the room between the two of you. “Whatever keeps me away from you.”

Her hand on the wet plate stops for a moment, then resumes. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were an abusive husband.”

You weren’t abusive, but you weren’t the best. Long hours, late calls, and a lot of pent-up stress and anxiety dominated most of your relationship.

“Let’s pretend I was the perfect husband,” you say. “Would it have mattered at all?”

She looks back at the sink and grabs another plate. “What do you think?”

You’ve considered it, again and again and again. Where would you both be if you hadn’t become a detective? If you were at home with her more often? If you appreciated her more instead of using her as a reprieve from a hard day at work? Would you be speaking with her in reality, instead of this twisted dream? Would you still have your old life?

“Of course not,” is your answer. “You were always rotten to the core.”

Kotohime puts the plate back down, but doesn’t pick up another. “Even when we were kids?”

“I met you when I turned eighteen,” you answer. “Our parents arranged for us to be wed.”

Suddenly, she breaks out into a fit of laughter that you have to tune out. After collecting herself, she says, “You can be such an idiot sometimes,

It’s funny to be realizing this now, but this is one of the most important decisions you’ve ever made in your life, if not the most important.

“Well, everything looks in order.” Kamishirasawa says, leafing through your paperwork while wearing a pair of spectacles. “I’ve gotten things sorted out on my end. Reimu’s been informed, as have the relevant village officials.”

“There’s only one more step.” Keine says, taking her glasses off and looking you in the eyes. “It’s also your last chance to reconsider. Are you certain that this commitment is what you want?”

You nod. There’s nothing more to say at this point.

She offers you a grateful smile, as warm as the first time you saw it decades ago. “Very well. We have one last form to fill out, then.”

Your former teacher slides the final sheet across her desk to you, the text on it printed with a precision you know most presses in the village can’t match.

A few lines that have already been filled in by Keine’s neat handwriting catch your eye.

---

NAME OF ADOPTEE: Melancholy, Medicine
DATE OF BIRTH: N/A
PLACE OF BIRTH: Hill of the Nameless
BIRTH PARENTS: N/A

---

Now it’s time for you to enter yours.

---

AGE OF ADOPTING PARENT:
[ ] 20-24
[ ] 25-29
[ ] 30-34
[ ] 35-39

GENDER OF ADOPTING PARENT:
[ ] Male
[ ] Female
[ ] Other/Unspecified

OCCUPATION OF ADOPTING PARENT (Up to 2):
[ ] Apothecary
[ ] Artisan
[ ] Clerk
[ ] Cook
[ ] Farmer
[ ] Guard
[ ] Hunter
[ ] Laborer
[ ] Merchant
[ ] Scholar
[ ] Scribe
[ ] Shaman
[ ] Other

I, THE ADOPTING PARENT, HEREBY AFFIRM THAT I AM OF SOUND JUDGEMENT AND HAVE CHOSEN IN THE ABSENCE OF DURESS TO ASSUME RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE PHYSICAL AND MENTAL WELFARE OF THE ADOPTEE.
SIGNED: [_____________]

♫: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lG4a4ittWVg
[紅の魂 ～ 赤より紅い夢 - 幻想少女大戦紅 オリジナルサウンドトラック (さんぼん堂)]

・－・・ －－－ ・・・－ ・

Music Collection: https://mega.nz/#F!1BdBzIKZ!bhLzijfM3iyphpueDOKf0g

Histories of Yatsugatake, a Suika backstory short: >>>/shorts/2180
THREAD 1 >>65260
THREAD 2 >>65548
THREAD 3 >>65922
THREAD 4 >>66462
THREAD 5 >>66845

1st thread: >>60957

You are a demon.

Your purpose is to answer the call of mortals who are in need of favours from beyond their realm. The craft of summoning interplanar beings such as yourself and binding them to contracts is known as diabolism and those who practice the craft are known as diabolists. As a demon, you are beholden to a particular set of rules, but like mortals, each demon will have their own sense of moral code. Some vehemently work against their masters outside of their contract; others go above and beyond the terms they were given. All demons must at the very least follow the word of their contracts, if not the spirit, and once you has been summoned into the human world, you are unable to leave until your master’s terms are complete or you perish in the process.

Your latest venture to the mortal realm has lead to a tangled web of interesting circumstances.

Your first contractor is Caesar, a young man who seems to have just stepped out of boyhood and leader of a group of supposedly skilled vampire hunters. His companions are Villy, a young girl with the ability to sense lifeforms; Deke, a strong and boisterous fighter; and Luna, a Japanese woman with strange knife-manipulation abilities. Caesar’s contract, detailed at the bottom of this post, has you bound to assist the group in “destroying a powerful adversary.”

The adversary in question is a vampire known as the Scarlet Devil, or Remilia Scarlet, though these names were never explicitly given in the contract. She is notable for her ability to manipulate the future to some degree. Caesar summoned you for this very reason; as you are a being from beyond this realm, Remilia’s hold over fate does not apply to you. After infiltrating her castle, a battle ensued and Caesar’s plans fell apart, so you elected to s

The trepidation of a speeding train coming through with no destination in sight. Anyone riding the abandoned line between reality and fantasy could feel the pervasive foreboding: something awaited at the end of the track, wherever and whenever the train would eventually stop. The eerie violet glow seeping through the windows, obscured by thick, embroidered curtains of velvety touch. Creak after creak of uncertainty. Flickering neon lights, a small rocking, the interior going dark for a fraction of a moment, alone with the things outside. Shadows flashed over the rusting handlebars and adverts for discontinued products. Old scratches and damp spots and shrivelled filling littered out of seats unkempt for decades. And the drone and hiccup of the wagons’ wheels rolling on unending rails, the smell of the incense which Yukari Yakumo had lit to get rid of the stench of mold.

The youkai of boundaries had always had a soft spot for what could only be conceivably called a rust bucket on rails. As long as it suited its purpose, there was no need to spend effort in restoring the train to its former glory, and she had other more convenient methods to travel to the Outside. The velvet curtains were the only concession Yukari had made to making the interior more hospitable, and it was only because, for the first time in years, the Purple Express was carrying a passenger other than her.

The clack of her heels echoed through the train as the youkai slowly made her way across the endless cars. In normal circumstances, there would have been no-one riding this train at all. After all, it had been out of commission for years when she took possession of it, left to rust at an abandoned station. The way Yukari saw it, nobody would miss it, and she was doing everyone a favour by giving the old machine a second life—and for years it had run without stops, across the endless expanse of the boundaries between worlds, until she commanded otherwise. But these were not normal circumstances, and even the Yakumo Express had to reach a station some time.

Eventually, Yukari reached the car where the first passenger of the Express sat by their lonesome:

[]A stout, aloof woman, exil

“Daiyousei! Where are you?!” I didn’t like this place. It had this visceral feeling of hopelessness and despair so thick you can lick it off the air. The kind that not even animals could stand to be in. Racoon and crows and such would run (or fly?) away in horror while bugs crawl away as fast as their tiny legs could carry them before they’re crushed by a deep sense of existential terror invoked by a cruel uncaring world. Darkness so deep and entrenching that even Rumia would stay the hell away from it.

But I didn’t care.

Even if I had to stop a meteor.

Even if I had to jump into a pool of lava.

Even if I to jump into a jaws of a mad raging beast!

I’ll still find you Daiyousei! Just wait right there and I’ll find you!

“Cirno?”

“Uh… What do you want Reimu?”

“Get the fuck out of my donation box.” So that’s why it smelled of dead dreams and poverty.

= = = =

“Hey! Come out you guys! I need your help!” I kept kicking on the tree where the fairy trio lived in. “Get your lazy butts out and help me for crying out loud!”

“...”

“Come on guys are you still mad about the last time I kicked your butt? I don’t really remember it all quite well, something about doors and seasons or whatever but come on! Let bygones be bygones right?”

“...”

“Okay fine! If you’re all going to be a buncha sore losers then whatever! I’ll find Daiyousei all by myself! Some friends you are!”

“...”

= = = =

I flew over to the front gate of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. The gate guard spends most of her time outside so she must’ve saw where Daiyousei went! It has to be so!

“Hey! Meiling! Meiling!”

“Huh? Oh hi neighbor! What’s up?” When I flew over to her I saw that she was exercising… Huh?

“Uh… Meiling?”

“Yeah Cirno?”

“Are you… Are you doing one handed push ups… On top of a knife?”

“Oh? Oh! Yeah this?” She proceeded to do a hand stand on the knife that was embedded into the ground. “Just practicing with my Qi is all. If I focus all of it in a single

Sipping her tea, Yukari watches the beauty of nature in fall.
Using a gap as a chair, she looks over the ocean of orange trees "Ah this is the life."
She relaxes until she finishes her green tea "Such a shame that this will end earlier than usual."
She says frowning remembering the little incident with Yukako and remembering the pain delivered from Reimu from her fight with her.
'Did those needles have to be so big?'
She sighs "Oh well." As she leans into the gap but stops when she felt something... off.
Then she understands, an outsider is going through the Great Hakurei Barrier. What is strange though is that the outsider didn't leave a hole, which while thankful, confuses Yukari on how they didn't leave a mess.
She opens a gap to view this outsider "Well would you look at that." she says to herself.
This outsider is dressed like a hiker, brown coat, bright-blue jeans and a pack back probably filled with a variety of goodies.
The outsider looks rather frail as if a simple breeze can knock them over! They are wearing small round glasses showing blue eyes. Black hair tied back to a pony-tail to keep it from blocking their view.
They look around the area before walking as if already knowing where to go.
"Well this is strange, how did they enter Gensokyo?" The way the outsider enter was like Gensokyo was just a part of the outside world. Perhaps a hole in the barrier? She gaps in the area after the outsider left looking for any holes, but found none.
Yukari scans the area looking for her shikigami, but did not find her "Ran wasn't able to detect it... stupid fox." shaking her head sighing.

What will you do?

A theme fitting for the tale ♫: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0tXMk-vk7ns
[Tada Rin Toshite - Starry Sky Logic (Kishida Kyoudan & The Akeboshi Rockets)]

Lyrics: http://www.faceorama.com/bluelight/kishidakyoudan/tadarintoshite.html

A story of magic.

Music Collection: https://mega.nz/#F!1BdBzIKZ!bhLzijfM3iyphpueDOKf0g

THREAD 1 >>65260
THREAD 2 >>65548
THREAD 3 >>65922
THREAD 4 >>66462

Previous Thread: >>64882

[32] "So, apparently I'm water-powered."
[32] "Ohh, by the way? Some redhead tried to murderize me and/or seduce me."

— - — - —

Picking it up, I found it to be both as soft as a newborn cake's butt and as goddamned cold as ice. Was a weird combo, to be honest. Was like it was somehow just pulled fresh from an oven that cooks by cooling somehow. Was left scratching my head more than a little over it, to be honest. Still, I got to relieving it of its papery threads, went about laying it bare before me. Au monchere. ...Or however you say it. Still, I'm being a bit silly now, so I figured I'd take a bite of the thing, finding an even greater shock to the system within.

The hell! The inside was piping hot!

Cold on the outside, hot on the inside and with fluffy, pink icing in a decoratively set pile on top. In the middle of all that, it was topped with further icing saying, 'BOO!' nestled into a neat little alcove among that pink. Although, that was more conjecture, 'cause I kiiiinda turned it into '300!' when I gave it a nibble. Proooobably should read cakey messages before I dig in, but y'know, hindsight still ain't something I have up front. Be kinda weird if I did, 'cause that'd be crotch sight or somethin' weird like that. Then again, she could just really freaking like Spartans, but I had a feeling it was nothing of the sort.

Lunch lady must have some sorta weird magical oven, though. For all its strangeness, and for all of its chilliness, the little cupcake was packed with enough sugar to make it considerable as some sorta confectionary A-bomb. S-bomb? I'd go with F-bomb if I could think up a good word for it. ...Fructose? Think that's somethin' sugary, but I'm not great with crap like that. I just know it's used a heck of a lot on commercials, to be honest.

Needless to say, it was delicious, though

Reworked.

… … …

—you rouse: another dreamless night.

You lie in bed a while. Eyes taken of nothing; mind perched on nothing. Absent sense; absent bearing.



You sneeze, and notice yourself.

With a token sniffle you rise from your pillow, leveraging neatly into a pair of bunny slippers at the bedside. Pink and white and fuzzy all, they were the first thing you’d bought yourself when you had finally moved out of that glorified basement of an interception base, resolving never again to suffer the indignity of cold floors in the morning. You throw on a bathrobe, too, garishly floral, and stuff your nightstand pistol into the left pocket, suppressor slotting neatly through the hole in the bottom stitching.

Yawning, you trod over to the washroom and, with a single look in the mirror, cede battle against the bird’s-nest tangle claiming to be your hair. You’ve no plans of meeting anybody today, anyway. Still, you go through the rest of your morning motions, letting the cool water wash away the last remnants of drowsiness.

Sunlight peers through sheer curtains, suffusing the cream-walled apartment with a pleasant morning glow. You detour through the kitchen to emerge back into the living room with cheese sandwich in hand—and, already, mouth—and a bottle of tea in the other, pouring some into a mug before settling thoroughly into the flaxen sofa amid laptop and television.

Cold barley tea. Whistler scrolling its start-up. OEF-A; OEF Iraq. Article 5. Article 9.

Same damn morning as ever.



Arbitrarily, you hold up your mug and regard it. You regard its emblazon: a black-and-gold flash, unassuming but for its referent. You remember when you wore that insignia on your shoulders for the first time. You remember the pride—as if all mankind’s will and spirit and hopes and dreams were embroidered into those patches and painstakingly ironed onto the sleeves of your beige rookie coveralls. You remember your first deployment.

You shift your gaze. Underneath the insignia, a date: 7-7-01. July 7th, 2001. The Avenger program’s first—and final—launch. You don’t