Here's where you'll find the random SDM-related shorts I decide to write in my spare time when I'm procrastinating on an actual update feeling particularly inspired.

Note these shorts could be anywhere from silly little AFT side-stories you don't see in the main story itself, to strange "what if" scenarios using AFT characters but having nothing to do with the story, or they could just be altogether random stuff. If a particular short is "AFT canon" with regards to the vague plot, I'll let you know.


Happy reading~!

Thread One: >>54922
Thread Two: >>58538
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"Oh, for fuck's sake," you snap, your frayed temper breaking in twain.

Remilia doesn't falter so much as tilt her head a fraction of an inch. "I beg your pardon?"

"You want the truth? You want all of it? All right, fine, I'll tell you why I'm here." Your hand clamps around the spear's shaft in one blindingly fast motion, and Remilia nearly flinches. "But I've had my fill of people trying to kill me today, so get your goddamn spear away from my throat before I shove it down yours."

Remilia stares at you, just stares, for ten straight seconds before the tiniest of smiles crosses her face, and the spear disappears as fast as she had summoned it. "So you really are capable of getting angry."

You scowl deeply, which only seems to amuse her more. "Are you schizophrenic? Because you sure as hell act like it."

Remilia plunks herself down on the nearest free piece of rubble. "Oh, get on with it before I change my mind."

"User!" says the AI, its tone urgent. "You will be violating directives from Headquarters if you proceed with this course of action!"

"It's either this or we die," you say, more testily than you had perhaps intended, but damn it all if you're going to be second-guessed by your own armor.

Remilia clenches a fist one finger at a time, popping knuckles as she goes. "He's right, you know."

The AI falls silent, no doubt weighing the merits of living versus following orders. It takes roughly four seconds before the machine speaks again. "Termination at this juncture would be a waste of resources."

"Is that the go-ahead?" you ask.

"Affirmative."

Patchouli Knowledge, the Unmoving Great Library, the sorceress of arcana complexus, the master of natural elements, was working on a particularly vexing incantation. Combining multiple elements with less-than agreeable compatibility, the mage took it upon herself to enchant the arte of fire, wood, and moon as an experiment. One which required all her concentration.

“Miss Patchouli! Miss Patchouli! An unidentified object is making a beeline towards the library at Mach one!” Koakuma’s frantic yelps ring across the grand library.

Patchouli says nothing. Her robe flutters softly with the stream of magical energy. She shuts her eyes and blinds herself from the physical world to see the current of mana. Within the tome in front of her is a vortex of tri-elemental power. The book waxes and wanes in power, its cryptic words on its pages known only to Patchouli Knowledge. Glistening beads of sweat adorn her forehead as she channels her magical incantations. The next step will require perfect execution and uninterrupted magical prowess.

Perfect execution.

“Yer never gonna catch me, ya gate guard! Wahaha!” A door from the side of the library topples down as a broom and its owner, Marisa Kirisame, enter the fray. She makes haste with her cleaning apparatus, zipping through the complex shelves.

And uninterrupted.

“Hey! Get back here, intruder!” Hong Meiling cries out in half-exasperation, half-determination.

Magical.

“Nope~” A blinding light escapes Marisa’s mini-hakkero, unleashing a flurry of stars and lasers, eviscerating innocent books in their wake.

Prowess.

“MARISAAAAAAA!” Meiling screams out at the black-white magician at the top of her lungs. She retaliates with some danmaku of her own, throwing out vibrantly colored shots towards her assailant.

Patchouli’s footing on the ground wavers, as the entire ground shakes from the clash in aisle Arcane-Apparitions. Only a drop of mana left. But before she can finish her spell, a shockingly familiar beam shoots out from behind a bookshelf. “I-Is that master spar-”

An explosion of energy knocks Patchouli off her feet, blowing her away. D

This is most certainly going to be rather unpleasant. Judging from the flurry of activity around the mansion today, it seems that Remilia is cooking up some new problematic event. The beginnings of a migraine begins to form in the back of your head as you consider what she might be planning, and worse, what part she’s called you out the library to play in it. Whatever it is, you can be sure you’d prefer to keep your hands clean of it.

“Patchy! Glad you could join us!” Remilia comes up behind you with a pat on the back, causing you to tense up reflexively.

“I wasn’t aware I had any option otherwise.”

“Oh don’t be like that. I’m just looking out for my friend, trying to get her to enjoy life a bit more.”

“You and I have very different ways of deriving enjoyment.”

“Oh, but variety is the spice of life, is it not?”

“So you’re saying you want to come read in the library?”

“Maybe something other time, tonight we have a party to attend.”

“You have a party to attend, I have books to read.”

“You can read those books another day.”

“And you’ll be hosting parties other days too.”

“It’s surprising you know that, since you never come.”

“You never let me forget, and I’ll not let you forget that I am a scholar first and a socialite never.”
You respond, and then letting your irritation get the better of you, add “Mine is the higher path.”

Remilia turns her head away from you, not letting you see her expression at your outburst, then walking away, her reply clear despite facing away from you.

“What is a book but a miserable pile of words. People are far more interesting than anything in your dumb library, not that you’d know.”

You’re not in the mood for more of this either, decide to return to the library.

Back in the quiet comfort of Voile, you find yourself more brooding than reading the book in your hands, a treatise on youkai social structures.

You’ve heard it many times before, that you shouldn’t stay in the library, that you should be around people more. Obviously, they d

Thread One: >>54922
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Well, no use just lying around.

As Meiling continues teaching the mechs why it's folly to use guns against her martial arts, you grab the shock-rifle that so recently electrocuted you and pull yourself to your feet, your muscles burning and every breath hard to come by.

"Heads up!" Meiling calls as soon as you're upright, following her words up by kicking a mech your way. You pull back and give it a solid uppercut; your strike aided by both boosted strength and momentum, the hapless machine flies up and clear through one of the windows with a great crash. That dealt with, you sprint into the thick of things. Bullets and electricity both fly your way, but some evasive maneuvering lets you avoid the worst of it.

Meiling sweeps one mech's leg out before dropping a vicious elbow that caves its chest in. Another mech moves to crack her skull, but you interrupt it with an accurate arc of electricity, stunning it long enough for the redhead to spring back to her feet and straight-up tear the stunned bot's head from its shoulders. "Does this happen often when you're around?"

"More than you'd think." You reply, pouring enough volts into a different mech to fry it completely. "So, got any plans after this?

"Like-" Ooh, that's an arm she just ripped off. "What?"

Your fist terminally interrupts a crafty bot taking aim at the redhead. "I was thinking maybe we could get lunch at town?"

Meiling punches clean through the second-to-last one, first with one arm, then the other; with both arms firmly inside, she rips the thing's torso clean in half. "Is now really the best time to be asking me this?"

"Perhaps not." You admit, shrugging off the last machine's desperate bullets as you blitz ahead and crush it to the floor with a great hammer blow.

The room is quiet now, save for the noise of tortured electronics screeching and, eventually, falling silent. You check over your new gun as Meiling wipes her h

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

========================================

The sound of crackling dirt echoed through the long tunnel, stretching for miles behind the few workers who labored tirelessly. How deep were they underground, anyways? One hundred feet? Two hundred? No one had cared enough to take depth measurements when they began, but for this endeavor it didn’t matter. If Daiyousei’s calculations were correct, and everyone prayed to whatever gods they could that those calculations were, the only thing that mattered was that this tunnel was as straight as an arrow. If they screwed up anywhere, even so much as a single degree off, they could overshoot the target by miles, and all this would be for naught.

The tunnel was barely tall enough for a small child to stand up straight in, and the narrow walls would make this passage a claustrophobic’s worst nightmare. But that didn’t matter. As long as Cirno could work in it unimpeded, it wouldn’t make the least bit of difference to anyone if the tunnel smelled of rotting carcasses and was lined with razors all the way down. She labored without sleep, sixteen hours of every day she was right there at the front of the tunnel, digging ten times faster than any of the others could manage, and out on guard the other eight hours. It was quite a shame, really, that their fearless leader was both their strongest warrior and their fastest digger. Any day now, that double-edged utility would have to be split one way or the other, and no matter which side she chose, their progress would be sorely diminished.

Cirno crouched in the center of the end wall, hundreds of rotating ice chisels in front of her working better than the world’s best auger ever could. Whatever dirt she herself did not freeze to the walls the two fairies behind her quickly packed in tight as she drilled. They had decided days previous that they couldn’t possibly carry all the dirt and rock out of here, not when they were so pressed for time. The only option was to drill a giant hole, shred the soil as fine as they possibly could, then pack it into the surround

It's cold, colder than you've ever been; a poison that seeps through your pale skin and reaches your bones and chills the marrow within so that you can barely move. Panic assails you, the first emotion in an otherwise blank mind, and your green eyes widen as the only thing you see is white, the white of your ragged dress, of your pale skin, and of the cold frost that surrounds you, an impossible snowscape that seems to go on forever.

You grope about you, blinded by the lack (or perhaps, the sum?) of color. You try to find your bearings and stand up; you fail and collapse on your knees. You can't move. Fear stabs your heart - you're going to die. You try to stand again; again you fall. Sobbing, you crawl into a sitting position, your slender body wracked with shivers. How could you die here? It's ridiculous, you must be dreaming. 'What is this? Why am I here?' Then, another question, one that accentuates the panic until it's an iron lance plunged through your chest and twisted around. 'Who am I?'

You try and think. You glimpse vague visions, images. A picture of a mother you've never met. A table full of materials next to a roaring fireplace. Neatly arranged dolls, crafted by hand. A woman with black hair, and a book, and blood, and fire...

You remember.

For a moment, all feeling disappears. The cold, and the pain and the fear of death become nothing during a long, sharp breath of disbelief.

Then you scream.

You scream and scream and scream again, beating your fists against the ground, pulling on your long golden hair so hard you tear out clumps, dragging long nails over your face until the skin breaks and your blood stains the snow.

Eventually, your throat gives out and all you can do is whimper and lie on the snow, crying as you bury your face into your arms.

The cold overtakes you, and you die.

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You wake up, your eyes surveying the interior of a four-poster bed so soft you feel you

You catch Reimu’s eyes, and motion for her to start interrogating.

“Alright, kiddo. What is the kamaitachi’s plan?”

The youkai takes a breath. “Manipulate the weather, lure humans into the forest, capture them, and use them to lure the Hakurei shrine maiden to us.”

“Why?” you ask.

“…To defeat her and prove the superiority of the kamaitachi to Gensokyo.”

“… Is that it?” Reimu asks after a minute, frowning. “If they want to try defeating me, all they need to do is challenge me to a spellcard duel. I’d be happy to oblige.”

The youth looks to the side.

Reimu’s mouth gapes slightly in dull horror. “…They don’t intend for me to live, do they?”

You move to touch her shoulder. Before you can do so, however, she grits her teeth, balls her fists, and a faint (holy, you’re sure of it) aura shimmers around her. “Those thrice-damned idiots! Are they insane?!”

“Reimu, calm down—“

She turns to you, fire in her eyes. “Wallace, if I’m killed without an heir, Gensokyo will instantly collapse!”

“Wait, what?” You’re not sure you heard her right.

“When Gensokyo was created, the Hakurei border was linked to the souls and bloodline of the Hakurei priestesses. Our lives are what stabilize the realm— in order to facilitate this, the border will prevent death by illness and other natural causes until an heir is produced, at which point the burden shifts to them. But what it doesn’t do is prevent unnatural death— such as at the hands of a living being. Which was the entire reason I started the spellcard system in the first place— so that youkai could challenge me without putting Gensokyo in jeopardy !” She turns to the weasel. “I know that the kamaitachi are recluses, but the clan elders have to know that my death is prohibited! It’s been common knowledge

Finally satisfied, you set the Grand Opening signs in place, and take a step back to admire your new place of business.

Years of study, years of back-breaking work, saving up and doing all the shittiest jobs, anything to put a little more money in the bank, all for this one, glorious moment.

At long last, you've done it. The elusive fantasy you've chased for so long is within your grasp. You will not, can not fail in your grand calling.

You consider the sign you've placed, for a moment, and then, in a sudden flash of inspiration, get a little paint and add a line that's sure to draw in customers. Offering anything for free usually does, after all. You've seen it happen.

Satisfied, you do a quick round through your new establishment, checking that everything is just so. It all has to be perfect, especially on your opening day.

Satisfied, you position yourself carefully behind the front counter, trying (perhaps a little too hard) not to let your anticipation and nervous energy show. It's just so exciting, being able to open the doors of your very own business at last! It wasn't easy, but you somehow managed.

You've even got a perfect location, catering to an underserved segment of the population! (Your studying has paid off already! Gods bless that weirdo and the books in his store, even if he does live out in the woods like that!)

After all, outside the village walls, your clientele (you love these fancy words so much; they're just so exotic!) can include almost anybody! You were careful not to place it too far from the village, and away from the Forest, so even the villagers won't balk too much at coming to you!

A perfect, brilliant plan!

Not a single flaw!

...

...Some time later, you're forced to admit, there miiiight have been one flaw.
Just one.

What the Outsiders would refer to as 'Advertising'. You, ah, haven't really done any. ...In fact, you might have neglected to

“Lady Remilia has been waiting to see you,” the majordomo stated quietly, lighting the ornate lamps at either side of the doors. The sun had all but set, the last dying rays of light were barely visible through the giant windows. “I know you've been kept rather busy today, and I apologize again for the misunderstanding in the cellar,” she nodded solemnly, the act of contrition as polished as it had been the first time I saw it. “I was instructed to show you to the drawing room before supper, for a formal introduction.”

“That's quite alright,” I said, “I'm used to eventful days.” Suika usually made sure that moments of dullness were few and far in between. “I hope I'm presentable enough to meet the mistress of the manor. My clothes were scuffed even before all of that business with that young girl,' I said with my tongue fully in cheek.

“I'm not sure my opinion matters much,” she said with an elegant smile, “but I believe you would look quite dashing no matter the state of your vestments.”

“Thank you, Sakuya,” I said, glad I had such an agreeable liason for this job.

Turning her attention to the door, the slender girl knocked softly on the hard wood. Pausing for a moment first, she then opened the door, beckoning me in with a smooth motion of her open hand.

The room was dark. A lit fireplace in the corner was the sole source of illumination. The walls were of a dark wood, the same kind on the door and the side door further in, and had a strip of wallpaper in between a section of horizontal wall that ran all along the sides of the room. Decorations were sparse for the space. A single large painting of a pale, sickly-looking girl sat opposite the fire. She was dressed in dainty clothes and had a fur draped over her shoulders. The flicker of flames and moving shadows gave me the impression that she was someone with something that she wanted to hide. Beyond that there were a few large upholstered chairs with burgeoning and comfortable-looking cushions and arms. And a single chaise longue turned towards the fireplace. The profile of a reclining figure lay still on it.

I approached tepid