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With the festival bustling away, nobody notices furtive figures darting through the crowd. They dart from shadow to shadow, flowing so naturally that not a single person feels their passing. Their footsteps are swallowed by cheerful chatter, and not once are their forms ever seen by a human eye. As the celebration approaches it's natural crescendo, the last of the figures slips from the grounds. Their destination is outside, in the rice fields beyond.
Do they walk through the flooded paddies? It would appear so, yet not a single ripple marks their passing. Their path winds and wends up the hill, until the festival is but a single bright patch in a quilt of deep, earthy colours. Just shy of the peak is their destination; a small circular plateau, waiting for their last companions to arrive.
There is no need for greetings, nor reminders of their purpose. The ones who have made this trek need not sully this gathering with idle banter or redundant reminders. Their voices will be put to one use, and one use alone; the stories each one bears in their soul. After but a few moments of silence, one figure stands up, looks over their audience... and begins to tell their story.
Contest Entries for the 2025 Halloween Contest go here! If you don't know what's going on, or you just want to see the rules, follow this link: >>/gensokyo/18584
Rui was a sculptor. Or rather, she had been one, all those centuries ago when she’d been alive. These days… well, she’d managed to cram a potter’s wheel into her little shack, and every once in a while she’d collect the occasional bag of clay from the riverbank, but she was fooling herself if she fancied it anything but a stubborn refusal to fully give up her once-profession. These days she was just an old woman.
She rolled over on her bed, grabbing the book she’d left on the floor and flipping through it idly. The murder mystery was okay, she guessed, and she had finished a couple of the author’s other books, but she just wasn’t really invested in this one. She couldn’t tell if the book itself was worse or if she just wasn’t in the mood, but it wasn’t really gripping her.
Rui read it anyway. Wasn’t like she had much better to do. Maybe one of these chapters the dame would do more than just gaze longingly at the handsome detective.
The knock at her door got her attention, though it had to be repeated a couple times to get her moving. She considered pretending to be asleep, but whoever it was sounded persistent, so she dropped the novel on her bed and walked over to the door, picking up her cane on the way. She didn’t truly need it, but it was nice to have and gave her an excuse for being grouchy.
She yanked open the door, glaring at the haniwa on the other side.
“You’re late.”
The haniwa took a step back, looking confused. “I was not aware we had an appointment?”
“You mean we don’t? Then good-bye!” She slammed the door shut.
Rui then immediately checked through the peephole at the haniwa looking absolutely gobsmacked. She chuckled at the absurdity, before belatedly recognizing the figure in question as the single most important haniwa in the entire hell. Which worried part of her, but most had stopped giving a damn long ago, and Mayumi Joutouguu looking that out of sorts just made it that much funnier.
To the girl’s credit, she did shake it off and knock politely on the door once again. The old woman took a second to quell her laughter, and opened it with her best stern look.
“I suppose this means you’
Hail, Kochiya Sanae, Living God and Wind Priestess of the Moriya Shrine!
I humbly speak before you to request your presence at a celebration of you gods of Gensokyo, on the eve of winter.
We will be holding a Samhain festival, an ancient rite of the pre-Christian Gaelic peoples of Europe. As summer ended and winter began, they would ask their gods and ancestors for guidance in the new year. As one originally from the outside world. You likely know of the modern holiday of Halloween, and notice that it coincides with Samhain – that is because it was derived from Samhain. I assure you, it has nothing to do with a certain jealous god, or even his scorned creation!
There will be offerings (We will not be serving human flesh), markets, rituals, music, performances, and much more.
The festivities begin officially at sunset. As a courtesy, please present this invitation to our gatekeeper as you arrive.
I also hope that the attached chocolates are to your taste as well.
Yours faithfully,
Remilia Scarlet
Past the shroud of mist and the gates of the Scarlet estate, the myriad gods of Gensokyo had gathered. They took varied forms; human, all kinds of beasts, animate objects, some who could only be described abstractly. Technicolor lightning flashed across the near firmament, accompanied by the thunder of battle. It seemed some of the gods were already fighting in danmaku matches.
Kanako bellowed laughter as she entered, turning heads and drawing eyes to the trio. Several great Mishaguji serpents trailed along behind them as they entered, framing the group against their white scaled underbellies.
“I don’t think I’ve seen so many gods gathered in one place!”
“It’s a rare occurrence; quite impressive on that vampire’s part.” Kanako surveyed the garden, then struck out toward a congregation loosely gathered around a bonfire and tables of offerings. “Most of the time some fight starts, or someone tries executing some plot… And in general, there’s a lot of politicking. Quite different from those quaint Hakurei Shrine drinking parties.” She stopped suddenly and turned to fully face Sanae. “I’m sure I’ll
They’d walked in silence for some time. The fighting had quelled as they had gotten closer to the mansion. Suppose even gods might fear a devil’s wrath. Its great doors were open.
Kanako suddenly livened up. “Suwako, go up and say ‘trick or treat’!”
“No.” Suwako growled.
“Oh, come on! You’ve done it before, haven’t you?” She plucked Suwako’s hat clean off her head. “Use your hat as a candy bucket. You’ll have every right to curse them if they don’t give you candy, you know~”
Kanako handed the hat back upside down. Suwako took it back and held it like she was asked, staring into the bowl of it, suddenly pensive. “I remember Halloween back in the outside world. It was one of the few nights I’d actually go out. It’s strange. I’ve disguised myself as a child before to test people, but, at that time people believed in curses and gods. When I went out on Halloween, well…” She put her hat back on. “If I shot sparks out of my hands and cursed them for not giving me candy, they’d just think I was some delinquent kid with fireworks.”
“Did you ever do that, Lady Suwako?” Sanae asked.
“Never had to.” She chuckled. “But sometimes they’d give me crappy candy and I was really tempted to.”
There was someone waiting at the door – A certain maid, in fact. Sakuya Izayoi stood, her head bowed and her hands clasped in a reverent and waiting display. She had been so still it had been difficult to spot her.
“Hey-”
A pair of figures in dun robes abruptly blocked their path.
“Rejoice! Rejoice!”
“Ye gods have been chosen, chosen!”
The two drew back their hoods, slowly revealing fetid grins.
“As the harvest for hell’s fire tonight!”
The hoods had been fully pulled back to reveal they had jack-o-lanterns for heads.
Seconds dragged on silently.
“Well, that totally bombed.” The one on the right said.
“Run along now, little fairies.” Kanako boomed. “And don’t try that on anyone else here! You were lucky to test the patience of gods so magnanimous as us.”
“Aww, but I wanted to catch up.” The left one’s voice was… No…
Th
“Pardon me,” I called as I slid the door open, knowing full well I wouldn’t be answered. I just knew I’d be sassed for walking in silently.
The library was hardly the liveliest place in the whole school, but this late into the after-school hours, an hour before they ran everyone off the grounds, it did a great impression of a graveyard. The way my squealing, scraping footsteps echoed in the barren halls was unsettling enough, then I opened the door to an absolute wall of stillness. I could swear the atmosphere felt a number of degrees chillier than the rest of the school, too. Not even the light of the fading afternoon that bathed it orange could warm it.
Braving that chill, I’d been dropping by on the odd afternoon. I had initially been scolded for intruding, considering the library was officially closed at the time, but it wasn’t like there was any rule against hanging around. The predictable answer to my objection was that there was such a thing as consideration for others’ private time.
I breezed past the unmanned front desk and the initial shelves that walled in the tables where fellows students normally sat studying. Bathed in light from the broad window behind her sat the one I was looking for: the librarian, Patchouli. A broad spread of books sat on the table in front of her, several open at once. Somehow or other, she fit them all in the open bag sitting at her feet; these were books that, according to her, largely wouldn’t be circulated, part of her private collection. In blatant violation of library rules, she held an open box of biscuit sticks in one hand as she read, one dangling from her lips like a cigarette. Her other hand held a pen that tapped a steady rhythm on a notebook as she wrote.
“I’ll admit: I’m mildly surprised,” Patchouli muttered without looking up from her work. She stopped to twiddle the pen, momentarily distracted. After a moment, she reached backwards to offer me one of the biscuit sticks. “I figured you’d get bored of this after a couple of weeks. You have a very strange way of persisting when you’re least wanted.”
“I take that sort of thing as a compliment,” I said, taking her up on the offer, if only out of
Everything under the moonlight appeared made of shimmering satin. A wind blew that I knew could chill to the bone, yet I felt strangely warm, removed from the temperature around me. Hardly anything around me lay in shadow in spite of the deep night. The whole world stood underneath the moon as if cast under an enormous spotlight.
I stood looking out beyond the lake from a distance off. I supposed I couldn’t sleep. My shoes were in my hand, rocks scraping at the soles of my feet. Why on earth had I worn my leather shoes out here? For that matter, my school uniform served little better for comfort in this wilderness. I sloughed off my overly warm jacket, aghast that I was wearing long sleeves underneath in spite of the summer. Still, the night air failed to relieve my feeling of being stifled. In turn, I removed all I could remove. There was no gaze falling on me but the moon, so I felt no shame standing in my boxers. I was blissfully alone.
I blinked. Yes, I realised, I did seem to be alone. In fact, I looked about to catch sight of no cabins, no lodge, nor anything else familiar. The rocky shore and the shimmering water of the lake told me I was still where I expected to be. There, too, were the mountains, though unclear and painted in sharp relief with the moonlight, a black so deep as to suggest absence. The woods loomed as ever. I somehow had the feeling I had walked out of them, though I couldn’t recall ever doing so. This place felt as if it might be on a different shore, from a different angle.
The day spent helping Reimu had battered me from all sides. No matter how I shuffled away with my arms crossed, someone had to seize me and drag me back into the fray. I’d had hardly a moment to stand and look at the skies or the lake. Life only served to be more relentless out here. Responsibility and the sense that I had to be an adult — whatever that truly meant — hounded me like monsters arisen from the shadows, come to find me wherever I was to drag me into the murky deep. Every smiling, cheerful face asking for me seemed leering. Every sullen demand for my attention was a creature’s growl. Yet, I felt no more relief standing alone than I did in all that time.
A soft cras
It was an ordinary country inn among other ordinary country inns. If I were being extra flippant, I might have called it the countriest of inns. Not to imply that the place was particularly bad, but it did have that air of sleepiness and time having stood still that seems so endemic to businesses in the middle of nowhere. The car park being sparsely populated as our cab pulled in didn’t help things. Suika shot me a dubious look that said, “You friggin’ cheapskate,” and asked the driver if this was really the place.
The driver laughed as he shifted down gears. We rolled to a slow stop right at the front entryway. “Get that question about this place a lot. Think their pamphlets are a bit out of date.”
I thought about mentioning how young and broke we were just to head off any ‘recommendations’ from the driver, but he thankfully put the car in park without further word. After depositing our luggage on the curb, I reluctantly parted with the fare, every spent yen a keen absence from my wallet now, and awkwardly returned a slightly embarrassing goodbye salutation from the driver as he no doubt sped back towards the station.
None of the inn’s adjacent scenery made you gasp for breath. Auntie told me our relatives had assured her of some ‘splendid autumn views from the baths’, but I couldn’t help a latent scepticism itching at my neck. The place looked as if it had by chance been washed down a craggy mountain road and deposited up against the woods. Some of the wood that held up the building certainly looked waterlogged.
I scratched at my neck, drawing yet another look from Suika. “Hey, you liked camping, didn’t you?” I attempted to joke, but the force of her glowering took any pep out of me. I groaned and picked up my suitcase. “Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re going to say. I wanted better too, just so you know.”
“Oh, get off it,” Suika scoffed, grabbing her suitcase with far more ease than I had mine, “I was just going to tell you not to bitch the whole time. I know you, Arc.”
“I would hope you do by now.”
I gave a little laugh tha
I did try to go at the game as seriously as I could. Unfortunately, there were few opportunities for the gap in our scores to close, as Suika well knew, and those chances would have involved throwing her to the wolves. One slip-up and she’d lose her last life, and that’d be it. Feeling the futility in trying to overtake her, I stopped worrying about it after a while and just played back-up. Suika occasionally threw herself into dangerous spots tauntingly, trying to tempt me into taking advantage, but I always intervened.
Even if I didn’t have time to look over at her, I could feel the overbearing smugness radiating from her. I also felt a couple of fellow patrons’ stares, probably thinking we looked like such an attractive young couple. Little did they know.
We came to a late stage boss that we’d only had minimal trouble with in the past. On occasion, RNG would throw us a curve ball, but it was otherwise pretty predictable. That’s probably why Suika decided to start screwing around again, getting right in the trajectory of all the attacks only to pull back at the last second. The small-fry enemies rushed to intercept her, calling for my swift defence. Even as I managed to keep up, she would just get more and more erratic with her movements, rushing far off course from where I’d expect her to be. No matter how much I complained, she just told me to keep up. The game quickly went from trying to beat the boss to racing with Suika.
“Fuck! Go left! Left!” I shouted, spotting an enemy coming in hot. I was all out of bombs, and this one would outrun my reactive volley of shots.
Heedless of my command, Suika stood still, continuing to shoot the boss. It was hopeless. She had all of a split second before she was dead. I didn’t want it to end like that. Whatever my chances of winning our little contest, I couldn’t fail as back-up. What kind of husband would I be, otherwise?
I threw myself in the path of the enemy. There was a blip and I was dead — Game Over. The name entry screen beeped its taunting melody at us.
I looked to Suika, expecting to see her upset that we hadn’t made it to the end, but her expression was one of relative contentment. She set the c
It's been a while. If anyone even remembers, I'm the writer of A (Lion-)Dog Among Gods (>>/youkai/31590). I semi-recently talked about my wish to revive that story and my troubles in doing so (>>/gensokyo/17495), and part of that effort is going to be starting off with a small, generally related project. I have something of a direction in mind, so it hopefully won't take me forever to write something, but I'm also not going to promise daily updates or anything that wild. This whole thing will amount to a handful of short updates with no choices. I'd still appreciate it if I got some kind of commentary or discussion.
Don't mind if events or circumstances described clash with what's already been depicted in Lion-Dog.
>>3329
>Namely, she's still pretty absorbed into her own life troubles and not exactly thinking of anyone beyond herself.
That is pretty had, the Hakurei Shrine Maiden exists for the sake of Gensokyo, not the other way around. That's sort of what I mean when I say she's going to have a bad end no matter what, she's is/was a child soldier that exists to prop up Gensokyo and like her predecessors will have to be replaced eventually once she becomes non-functional.
Well if she fails I'm sure there's a replacement out there somewhere so Gensokyo will keep on going, one way or the other.
I guess I'll come back to mention a couple of things before generally moving on.
The first thing is that this work draws on a number of influences, as many works do, but I'd like to name a couple I didn't bring up. One of the works with influence that runs throughout my work is Kawabata Yasunari's Thousand Cranes. There's no real good way of summing up what it is about this very short book that moves my writing so, but I see its spirit throughout various stretches of this story and others I've written. In many ways, it's an 'aesthetic' influence, but I think there's also a view of human relationships and human mortality in Kawabata's work that leaks into my own. The other, whilst less of a direct influence, is Elias Khouri's Gate of the Sun. It's a book that's already interesting because of personal tragedies tied to socio-political events in the '80s, but it's more interesting because of its commentary on the nature of narrative, how people shape narratives, and how they're shaped by them in turn. I don't want to overstate how much that sort of questioning of narrative in and of itself plays into Draft Records, but I would say that Gate of the Sun has definitely had an impact on how I've come to view subjectivity and ideas of narrative in storytelling.
The other thing is that I owe a lot to a few people when it comes to this story. Namely, Teruyo and his writing have made a big impact on me, and he supported me a lot throughout the writing of this story, helping me to figure out what it was I was trying to say. I'm a huge fan of Theater of Youth (>>/others/44424, >>/others/69170) and The Heart of the Fool (>>/underground/17107), among other things, and I even wrote a tribute to the former as I was grasping to regain some footing. I thin
Hello—I've just finished reading! I'm still gathering my thoughts and will probably have to re-read it in order to properly join the conversation, but I did want to first extend my congratulations on having completed the story, and having done it so exceptionally powerfully as well. The themes you've mentioned putting into it shine through very vividly, and I think it's clear even after a first read that this is a story with a lot of longevity to it; the kind that touches on very real continents of emotion that we might each find ourselves paying a visit to some day.
Congratulations again, and I hope this achievement paves the way for more to come! I'll be back with more detailed thoughts in due time.
…Ah, you’re here. Good to see you all.
How have you all been? Holding yourselves together, I hope?
…You’ve certainly been through a lot. You and me both.
And of course, those children. You’ve all been doing so well, guiding them.
Especially the young half-ghost, and the sister a-whorled up in her wake. I admit, I found your actions in regards to her nature… beyond questionable, but I can scarcely imagine a better result to that harrowing day. Good work to you all.
And the young bookkeeper… I wonder if we could have done that differently? Could we have laid low for just a little longer? …Well, no matter. The point is, she’s safe, and that’s more important.
…I’d like to offer you something. A little reward for all your hard work.
Tell me… do you wonder about the choices not taken? The roads not traveled? The paths not walked?
The Reimus, Youmus, Akyuus, Kosuzus, and Marisas that could have been?
…I often wonder as well. I suppose it’s human nature, isn’t it?
I’d like to tell you all a few stories. Not the actual fates we’re watching play out - cute little speculative stories. Glimpses of what could have been.
In so doing, I hope you all gain a better sense of those kids. Sometimes you can’t see the full picture only looking at one side, after all.
As thanks for your recent performance… is there any specific scenario you’d all like to see? I have some scenarios in mind, of course - particular confluences that catch my eye, or ones that I find particularly… resonant. But I’m sure you all have your preferences, as well.
I’ll give you a little taste to start with, of one of the more drastic scenario changes. But where to begin…
Ah yes. Perhaps this one will be to your liking?
I was going to say that things are looking up for Kokoro, but I then realized that with Youmu here, there's likely nothing to save Koishi from her canon fate unless Spooder Reimu gets deeply involved with Chireiden, which means that Hopeless Masquerade may still be on the table in some form.
That said, Kokoro actually has a decent support network this time around to help her through her issues, so things might not spiral as far out of control as last time.
>>3262
Is it strange that when I look at the top left drawing of Yuuma, my immediate thoughts are that she is plotting some manner of mischief involving mayonnaise?
From the looks of it, this happened after the events of y/y so I'm guessing Youmu prevented Koishi from closing her third eye?
It's been a bit since the vote, but I read through and apparently you still take ideas...
Well, I remember suggesting the Youmu/Reimu meeting...but I had an Idea stuck in my head since my last full reread of K/K.
And it was the simplest realization, that if things had gone slightly different...
In a world where Saki was the boss of R/R instead of Yuuma... a certain evil Tube Fox takes her "daughter" to an injured, but still strong, Matriach known for her power. She's on a decline, but the position of being the "Unbeatable Matriarch's" right-hand fox? Too good to pass up.
This was the second-largest mistake in Tsukasa's life, which is quite impressive given all of the others.
For the entire Alliance could tell that little Kosuzu wasn't her mother's daughter, just like the rest of the animal gangs... But Yuuma?
Yumma could smell Ran, and she knew Ran. Ran would never give up her daughter, under any circumstances.
This filth stole Ran's kit! Time to make an example...but... How do you take care of a kitsune kit...?!
All the while, Yukari and Chen feel like they're miasing something... and Reimu's instincts are twitching...
Or, in Light Novel terms: "My life as a Tubefox was a Lie!? Adopted by a Yakuza Taotie!"
Entries for the latest exhibition, >>/gensokyo/18161, go in this thread.
Shinmyomaru Sukuna sat in a little room in a little wing of a little castle. Arms folded, she stared at the little old man who was stood at the front of the throne room.
“Is what you say true?” She demanded sharply.
The shrunken old geezer scratched at his beard. “It’s true. The giants have gotten a little princess of their own. She’s even got purple hair like yours.”
Shinmyomaru jumped to her feet. “This is unacceptable! I must go an defend my honour from this… this… Pretender!”
Her head turned to another man stood in the throne room. In his hands he held a mallet wrapped in cloth.
“Lord Custodian! Lend me the Miracle Mallet so that I may strike this fool down as she so rightly deserves.” She demanded, a hand out for the hammer.
The custodian raised an eyebrow “I cannot let you use the mallet for such a purpose, Lady Sukuna.” He said drily.
With a shake of the head, he walked off, miracle mallet held firmly within his hands. Ignoring Shinmyomaru’s cries for him to come back. Shinmyomaru clenched a fist. She’d show that she wasn’t a child, with or without the Miracle Mallet. They’d see that she truly was the hero the inchlings deserved.
Shimmy shimmied across a great bridge. Behind her lay a great rift covered by a pane of glass. A massive eye loomed behind it, a great beast staring at the princess as though she were just a morsel to be gobbled up. But even greater than that monster was Shinmy’s bravery. With a step back and a running leap, she cleared the gap from one bridge to the next, landing with a deft roll. Shimmy smiled to herself. Then she saw how far in the distance the false princess’ grand palace was. A friend had brought her far on dragonfly back. The rest of the journey was up to her.
The sun was beginning to dip low in the sky by the time she reached the foreign castle. With a mighty throw, she launched her spear into a higher ledge and, with the assistance of the string tied through the eye of her spear’s butt, began to climb. Her muscles burned. She would have much rather been in her bed. But it was just a little further to go.
Eventually, she reached the higher le
The emergency door closed with an iron clang, putting the sickly yellow lamp to sleep. With a blink, the murky reflection of the cabin disappeared. Outside the window, a night eclipsed by storm clouds was revealed.
The underground Hiroshige’s success had no effect on Nagano's railway traditions, and the sweet, fresh, pollenated air (what many came here for) wafted freely through the empty carriage. Land trains, as tourist brochures proved, are no less comfortable and absolutely safe: along all JR lines there have long been sensors that signal if, say, someone accidentally falls onto the tracks.
I honestly tried to sleep again. Outside, long beams of torches swam around, looking for percieved malfunctions; their light, falling on the red reflectors of the mobile barriers, pierced my eyelids and flashed sharp in my brain. Rain brought with it a terrible migraine.
While I wondered where I should put my hat, the lanterns moved on towards the locomotive: dozens, hundreds of lights were now lined up in perfect constellation lines above the hardwoods of the old Shinshuu. Soon. the last treatment room lights will be extinguished, and the "star"-light will drift into the angular glass monolith of the canteen, where anyone can be served a light midnight snack.
The train has stopped, at a cursory glance, a couple dozen kilometres before the sanatorium platform. A few more minutes for the emergency response team to arrive, to set up the fences.... And then, the upper floors of the medical building disappeared from view. I'm betting it's 21:52 at the latest. If I hurry up and walk, I might even have time to grab something apple-flavoured.
The exit was at some elevation and I, used to getting off at city stations, fell, scraping my knee. Nonsense. Much more disconcerting to me was the lack of people, who were jostling near the wheels just moments before: only empty service vehicles in bright coloured emergency service colours stood with their doors open wide. There was a strong smell of alcohol and burning, although inside the train, probably, as always, it was fragrant with the hypoallergenic mountain freshness of the early rainy season. Another kitschy fake,
You saw her, right? Last summer, when we were down by the lake? Just around dawn; pebbly section of the shore; the sky was glowing like a cliff of tourmaline? You were helping me to camouflage the hygrometer? Thank you for that, by the way; it’s still running perfectly; hasn’t been stolen or tampered with; don’t know how you managed it.
Anyhow, she was there. Across the lake. I must have pointed her out to you. Or I must have said something, at least. Or I was in the middle of saying something and then I stopped. I mean, who ever does remember that sort of detail? She had my attention in the sort of way that made me almost incredulous she didn’t have yours as well. That’s how I really remember it.
Well, no, it wasn't ‘at first sight’, if you’re willing to listen for a moment and not tease. It honestly wasn’t like that. I’m not that sort of person; you know full well I’m not. You’ve known me for how many years, and I’m only now bringing up something like this to you? That’s because I really believe, I really believe it’s serious. It’s real, I’m sure of it. But I didn’t know it then, is what I’m trying to say.
No, it was like... it was like looking at a cumulonimbus. Like an isolated cumulonimbus, off in the distance, towering up into the tropopause, where the sky takes on the Prussian dyes of an open sea. Where breathing is as good as drowning. Where turtle-shelled maidens are caught on fairy-tale hooks, and you wouldn’t wonder at seeing the carp itself, dancing triumphant in the Sun; triumphant in its glinting, coral-red brocade. The one that made it all the way.
I didn’t know what to make of it. Isn’t it always the case... Isn’t it always the case, when you find yourself magnetised by someone like that? It’s because you don’t know what to think. You find that the way in which you judge things in your day-to-day life seems suddenly useless and petty, and you can only wonder at what kind of heroic stature you’d yourself have to possess in order to say anything that wasn’t... irrelevant. Less than wrong.
Haven’t you been in awe of someone like that before?
Kiketsu Plushie Investigation Audio Log:
Are we doing this? Really doing this? I mean, Yachie's the boss and all, but they're a child's plushies!
...
As Asami, he-who-manages-Reimu, first of his name, put it, "Yes, shut up, and don't leave the file anywhere you-know-who might find it." Which is absolute fishbait. I don't know why she's suddenly so touchy about the plushies now. Everyone knows the girl loves those things, and she's still willing to dive into the pile when nobody's looking. Maybe the old man found out and teased her about it? Or the crafting goddess? (Sure hope the boss knows what she's doing working with that psycho.) Whatever. Beyond my paygrade.
What, you want me to call her "the miko" all the time? I know that's the cover story, but this is an internal file! Nobody's going to see it!
...
Fine, whatever. You're the boss.
Entry 1 - Genjii:
This one was the easiest one to verify. Our miko had dreamed up a turtle plushie with a beard, we check out the surface, and lo and behold, the Hak- what do you mean we're not using the name? Our miko's never supposed to see this file anyway, right?
Whatever. Anyway, the future youkai shrine has a giant youkai turtle of the same type, complete with beard.
Anyways, Genjii is absolutely our miko's favorite plushie. He's the one she insisted on taking with her when Yuuma attacked, and she loves him to bits. Like, literally to bits, the boss has had to patch him back together several times. She doesn't actually play with him as much, and when she does, he comes out on top, but he's the first one she'll cuddle if she's feeling down, and especially if she's scared. Though she tries to hide whenever she does it these days. It's a pity too, pushing her around on top of Genjii when she was tiny used to be a blast.
Interestingly, Genjii's also the only male plushie in the bunch. Which, taken at face value, means that he must have been the most important man in her past life.
...what? Look, you asked me t
How did I miss this? This little what if is developing nicely.
So, most of you probably saw this already, but for those who didn't, I posted a Kudamaki/Kuro omake for the recent exhibition. (And by Kuro, I mean USiL's Chen. It was her original name before she became Ran's shikigami.) You can find the short story here: https://www.thp.moe/shorts/res/3274.html#3280
The Scarlet Devil Mansion had contingencies to contain a raging vampire, but it was never a good day when those were put to the test.
Sakuya was best utilized playing support. A role that galled her, in truth, but one that was necessary just by the nature of the conflict. She could not meaningfully intercept the full power of the frenzied youkai, but her power was uniquely suited to avoiding it. Smaller attacks could be deflected by her knives, (not that it would prevent the mansion from taking a beating, but she could at least lessen the damage), and stopping time allowed her to pull her allies out of the way of any more powerful blows.
Offense was a similar story; while enough of her knives would give even the Scarlets pause, this was not a case where overkill was an acceptable solution. If attempting to suppress an outbreak alone, she would be forced to whittle her opponent down, gradually chipping away at that near-limitless stamina until her energy was exhausted and her sanity returned.
Such measures had been necessary with Flandre twice in times past, and an entire wing of the mansion had been wrecked both times. She was thankful to have better options at present.
As her target gathered herself for another charge, Sakuya stopped time, fanning out her knives out to both sides. The wall of blades wasn’t a serious obstacle, a vampire was fully capable of charging through them… but to a creature functioning on instinct, the pain they represented was enough of a deterrent to shape its path. Her quarry charged for the one hole left in the wall, claws outstretched.
The maid let the charging youkai get within a hairsbreadth of her before stopping time once again. When it resumed, she was no longer in the attack’s vicinity, and Meiling leaped in to neatly field the charging youkai. The gatekeeper’s raw strength was less than either of their mistresses, but she made up for it with technique, dodging the swipe, grabbing the wrist, and executing a picture perfect over-the-shoulder throw to slam the vampire down to the floor, wings first.
Neither the throw nor the follow-up joint lock was more than an inconvenience to a vampire, but that had been planned for. Disruption
>>3050
>Namely, he's the cameraman. Because Sumi (and him, but mostly Sumi), would absolutely want footage of her fights with all these youkai.
Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think going through with this retcon might open up a plothole.
In >>/th/202992 , Satori and Greg both get trounced by Reisen because her lunatic eyes are able to completely nullify both of their abilities. Satori attempts to get around this by plucking spellcard ideas out of Greg's head instead of Reisen's. However, since Greg has only seen spellcards from Marisa, Nitori, Alice, and Koishi by this point, Greg is unable to supply Satori with any useful ammo, which forces Greg to swap opponents with Sumireko in order to make any headway against Reisen.
But if Greg had filmed Sumireko's fights with everyone earlier, then Greg would have seen loads of spellcards from dozens of different youkai, so he should have had plenty of ammo for Satori to pull out of his head to use against Reisen. Which makes Greg's decision to drag his battered, broken, barely conscious body over to Sumireko completely nonsensical, since he could have just stayed down and thought up dozens of spellcards for Satori to use against Reisen instead.
I don't know man. I think you should focus on progressing your story as is, warts and all, instead of trying to go back and retcon things. Striving for perfection is all well and good, but Perfection is the enemy of Good Enough. Your story is great as it is. Its well written and compelling, and we all love you for it. If you go back and start retconing things now, you risk opening up a bunch of plotholes in it, and your story is good partly because it currently doesn't have plotholes in it.
((I think this is an interesting look at the difference that having a good editor makes. The below is the first draft of the update that would become >>/th/214288, so if you haven't seen that yet, I'd advise reading the real update first. I think what I had is still reasonably well-written and different enough to post as a snippet, but it goes in a very different direction than the final version.))
Back when I was dating Matthew, there was a moment where we were talking one morning over tea, and I was apologizing for my rather messy appearance (having had a late night of magical research). My love claimed I looked fine, then he abruptly reached over the table towards my face. Two of his fingers made contact at my forehead, tucked in a few loose hairs over by my right ear, and then traced a path from my temple down to my chin before he pulled his hand back. It was a brief moment, lasting a few seconds at most… and yet my heart skipped a beat as a force beyond magic pulled me in, demanding to experience that warmth for just a little longer. (And of course, that absolutely maddening man had no idea he’d even done anything - there was no recognition in his eyes, he was making small talk about the tea!)
It’s easy to underestimate how meaningful a simple touch can be. After all, the sense of touch is something we use constantly, whether that’s holding things in our hands or brushing up against objects. But despite that, how often do you touch another person? Oh, there’s bumping into someone in a crowd, or the occasional handshake… but an intentional, gentle, prolonged touch is intimate in a way that few people realize. It calls back to our memories of our parents, and is proof on a level beneath words that there’s another person not just there with you, but there for you. That they chose, in this small way, to get close to you, to comfort you… in short, that they care.
What better message to send to a girl whose efforts remained perpetually unappreciated despite working almost as hard as a shikigami?
And so I took a step closer to Reisen, positioning myself right behind the kit, and gave he
The cherry trees were in full bloom at Hakugyokurou, filling the air with cherry blossoms and the sweet scent of vanilla that filled the halls. The servants fluttered about, right and left, faceless apparitions preparing meals, sorting out rooms, and caring for various tasks. Yuyuko and Suika sat across from each other, sitting on pillows with A banquet spread across the table that separated them: roast duck, boar, beef, and other unidentifiable meat alongside numerous sweets and bottles of Sake. After everything else, a covered wooden container was left centered on the table.
"Thank you for preparing this meal, Youmu."
The half-phantom bowed, "You are welcome, my lady. I live only to serve you."
Suika laughed, "Wow, you're as much of a suck up as ever, ya'know."
"Ah, please don't be mean to poor Youmu, she really did put a lot of effort into this."
"Whatever, it's just nice to hang out like this. The shrine never has enough food."
Yuyuko agreed, "Yes, it's nice that we're able to have such an enjoyable get-together, Suika."
The two of them lapsed into silence as they began eating, taking from every plate while leaving the wooden container untouched. The conversation was light and enjoyable, with jokes about acquaintances, questions about what the other had been doing recently, and laughter.
"You should have seen how Yukari was back when I was causing everybody to party, she was so worried about me but didn't have the heart to say it or to explain to others what was going on, talk about shy."
"Yes, I wonder how our Yukari would be if a certain someone were kinder to her? Perhaps if they invited her to spend some time with their friends."
"Please, it's your shitty encouragement of her, half her problems are caused by that overly shy, attention loving personality. I'll show you what, I'll go right to her house and drag her to the village, that'll do her some good!" Suika shot back.
"Perhaps you should treat her with more kindness than, don't think I don't know those rude things you say ab
Entries for the latest exhibition >>/gensokyo/17808 go in this thread
The rain chattered as it tumbled from the skies above and down onto the roof of the Myouren Temple. It slid to the sides, unhurried and uninterested in anything before it fell to the earth. It ran into the cracks in the roof where it hadn’t been repaired as thoroughly, and it would see that portion of the roof destroyed should she err too long.
Ichirin watched the droplets cascade down. The weather was downbeat. The rain fell, but in spite of the near-poetry she’d just been crafting, the rain fell in lazy and uninspiring ways, like a whole world slumping its shoulders and giving up. Ichirin wasn’t even sure she could blame it. The world felt uninspiring right now. Maybe that was why her captive hadn’t said much.
A Taoist cap, a collection of multicoloured ribbons around her limbs and neck, and, just for good measure, a tight roped currently tied around her wrists, This last addition had been Ichirin’s idea after she’d conferred with her closest friend. Said friend currently swirled around her, hazy and formless, as Ichirin took hold of the rope and yanked with a grunt. The sullen figure slid across the floor silently, but she soon took notice of the downpour she was being sent out into, and some life returned to her at last. “Nay, wench, I say nay! Thou shalt not cast me unto that deluge!” Her speech was a mess usually, but the panic of being tossed out into the rain had forced her hand. She tried to struggle, but with her hands bound tightly, she didn’;t manage much beyond impotently kicking her legs.
“Why not?” Ichirin asked between harsh breaths as she dragged the captive closer to the edge of the staircase at the front of the temple. “A little splash of water might sort out that mess you call a brain.” She paused and let her captive fall to the floor as she stretched her back and wiped the sweat from her brow. “I realise that this is an exercise in futility, but if you tried not burning down the Temple, this might not happen to you.” There was no response from the captive. “Oh, Futo?” Ichirin leaned down. “Are you ignoring me?” There was a certain level of smugness in this, even though she knew nothing she could say would convince the Taoist to ceas
Ichirin wondered how she did it. Mamizou Futatsuiwa never seemed to let things touch her. Always unflappable; Always ready with a smug quip and a laugh. Ever since she’d come to the Temple, Ichirin had wished she could find some of that attitude.
Minamitsu was still talking. “Hey, you want to go and see if there’s any food here?”
Ichirin lurched to her feet. “Don’t have to ask me twice.” she said, drunkenly staggering for a moment before getting her feet back under her. “Temple food is…yeah. Let’s see.”
One could only take intense blandness with a pinch of salt for so long.
Her feet made six steps before her mind connected the fact that she wasn’t walking unassisted. Minamitsu had taken her arm in hers. “You barely ate anything all day and then you drank all that booze, Ichi. You’re probably more sloshed than a sailor on shore leave already.”
Ichirin frowned. “No, I’m not.” the hiccup she failed to suppress undercut her point somewhat.
“Very convincing.” Minamitsu replied dryly. “Hey, is that the snacks table?” She kept a tight hold on Ichirin, though Ichirin didn’t believe it necessary. Why would it be? She hadn’t drank that much. “Ooh, they’ve got fried tofu.”
Minamitsu’s grip suddenly disappeared and Ichirin found the world lurched slightly around her. Okay, perhaps she’d had a little more to drink than she should’ve, and certainly too fast. Did the ship phantom have a point? No, of course not. Ichirin was fine. Minamitsu was the miserable one.
“‘Mitsu, why were you sad?” Ichirin asked, trying to ignore the way the world was swaying slightly. “You’re not sad like that often any—”
In a flash, Minamitsu’s arm was around Ichirin and pulling her across the grounds again, finally depositing her at the veranda. Unprepared for the movement, Ichirin fell backward, thankful that the surface was dry and mostly clean. Her limbs felt heavy.
“Hang on, let me just…” Ichirin felt herself lifted upright, then felt her mouth being pried open. Before she could ask just what was happening, she was released to fall to the veranda again. “Thought so. Tengu liquor. No wonder. Mamizou c
Gah, >>3244 here with a minor note. Because of the character limits I had to shift some things when posting, and I somehow ended up losing a paragraph in one part.
>The goddess gave a great exhalation [...]
“No, no, great goddess, there is truly fault on the part of at least some of the great-tengu. I’m sure a few could have done a little better to make sure their schedules were clearer,” the tube-fox replied, bowing deeply. The razor-sharp smile had renewed itself on her face. She casually named off a few names, casting their otherwise vaunted positions among the great-tengu as relatively unimportant. Though she remained straight-faced listening to the fox, there was a flicker of interest in the goddess’s deep red eyes.
>“Well, I don’t know what political game [...]
Under the shadow of the full moon a masked multitude gathers. They tell tales of Gensokyo, of the masks worn by both people and places. Perhaps they are stories of fact, of the lies everyone tells for the greatest and small of reasons. Perhaps they are simply idle fiction, farce and fancy to get a smile out of all present.
Or perhaps they are stories of when the masks slip. Of what lies beneath the surface. The real Gensokyo, hidden under the facade...
Contest Entries for the 2024 Halloween Contest go here! If you don't know what's going on, or you just want to see the rules, follow this link: >>/gensokyo/17580
Over her two lives with Kyouko, Mystia had always had one ironclad rule - the louder the ex-yamabiko was, the less Mystia had to worry. It was a trait carried over from her mountain echo days, and all she had to do with the now-Tanuki’s volume was adjust her expectations to accommodate the smaller volume range.
Right now, though, Kyouko was dead silent. She just stared at the glowing pagoda powering the grill. Mystia felt a drop of sweat trickle down her neck, as the younger girl quietly sucked in a breath.
“...Um.,” she began, hesitantly. “Mystia… this… this is your heirloom?”
Mystia nodded. “...Y-yeah? Wait, do you recognise it?”
“...Um. Yeah, you could say that.” The tanuki had broken out in a cold sweat. She slowly raised her head, looking Mystia all over. “And… Iunno about your dad, but I- I might know who your mom is.”
The catgirl gulped. “R-really? Y-you can tell it just from that? I didn’t know there was a maneki-neko at Myouren- wait, you don’t mean Mike, do you? She’s only got a couple of years on me, and she’s still living here-”
“Sh-she’s not a maneki-neko - and, uh, I’m really starting to doubt you are, either.” Kyouko took a deep breath, screwing her eyes shut. “Mystia… that’s the Jeweled Pagoda of Bishamonten. The one Lady Shou had.”
The silence hung in the air for a few weighty seconds. Even the bustle of the streets seemed to die down for a moment. Mystia stared at the tanuki, slack-jawed.
Kyouko coughed, awkwardly. “Um, and y’know, you’re pretty tall compared to the other girls here. It makes sense if you’re actually, um, y’know… you know.”
“Shou? Lady Shou?” A few loose cogs in Mystia’s brain began to spin. “Lady Toramaru Shou?”
“Yeah.”
A few more cogs began to click into place. “‘Tora’... as in tiger?”
“...Y-yeah.”
The silence returned for a few seconds more. Mystia’s brain, with agonising sluggishness, finally managed to spit out the answer.
“I’M A TIGER?!”
Kyouko flinche
