The following images are also available at:
https://archive.org/details/thp-shiroi-mimi-usagi

Minor continuity with >>2262.

Happy Spooktember, everyone.
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Today was looking to be a busy day for Sakuya. Her mistress made it clear that she wanted the mansion to be extra clean in preperation for a visit from the Hakurei shrine maiden. Normally, this would be an easy task for the maid, but it was complicated by an invasion from a certain witch, as well as the ensuing danmaku party caused by the younger mistress.

And that was saying nothing of the horrendous state the kitchen was in, due to some fairy maids convincing themselves that they could cook.

Sakuya had her work cut out for her, but what else was new. Sometimes, she felt that her constant upkeep of the mansion in frozen time went unappreciated, but she always held her tongue.

The nice thing about working in stopped time was that she never had to worry about working quickly. In fact, if she had to, she could take a nap in frozen time, and no one would ever know. Even Remilia was clueless about what Sakuya did in her own time, not that she'd admit it.

She had already restored about half of the destroyed hallway decor by now, and she continued moving along at a steady pace. Burnt sections of carpet were cut out and replaced, scorched walls were wiped clean, and broken furniture was disposed of. Every so often, there would be a fairy maid right in the way of where she needed to work, but it was incredibly easy to move them. Their confusion once time resumed was of no concern to Sakuya.

Free from observers, Sakuya entertained herself while she worked by whistling. The mistress would likely disapprove of such an "unrefined" action, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

When one has all the time in the world to themselves, they have to entertain themselves somehow.

After pulling up a particularly large section of rug, Sakuya tossed it aside and took a moment to rest. She was still far stronger than her appearance would suggest, but a pulled muscle was still something she wanted to avoid if she could help it.

She thought up a new tune to whistle, and once again fell into a rhythm with her work. She soon began to zone out, and lost herself

Let's get the facts straight:

1- You're not in your bed 2- You're not on the floor so you're probably not home either.

You knew that much already but really your right hemisphere says you should not have drinked that much, yet your left hemisphere says it was unconditionally worth it. You don't remember yesterday's party but boy it felt glorious

The sensation of your brain being beaten by a solid steel stick was just the natural fee one had to pay here, you were no stranger to passing out drunk and waking up the next day a few miles away from home.... but the scent of this place reeks of the forest and another substance you'd rather not think too much off.

Upon regaining most of your thoughts, you keep your eyes closed, certain that whatever you were going to see would be both unpleasant and distressing.

You were right. Being tied onto a chair with rope told the nature of the situation quite bluntly.

On the one hand, this time there wasn't any fire, brimstone or the wailing dead to be seen, which suggested that you did not end up in hell again, which was a plus since if it happened once then it could happen again.

In fact, you were in a room, an old-world little shack if you had to stipulate. The window showed woods that were slightly familiar which means you can't have been taken far, and hopefully only a few hours had passed. Since it was now only approaching sundown.

On the other hand, there was going to be fire, and in the relatively near future. A large cauldron was in the middle of the room, a fire was right underneath and the water in it had yet to boil. In one way, a very minor way, that could be looked at optimistically but then you realized you were buck naked and some mix of salt and oil was over your skin indicating that your captor whoever they were intended to make you into soup probably boiled alive.

Naturally, that was certainly a Bad Thing. Without your clothes the room felt a bit chilly and even if you were to escape the sight of you walking in town with this appear

https://youtu.be/AOEcGWIXKkg

FFFWWWOOOOOOOOOOSSSSHHH!
Stupid forest… It always does that in front of everyone. Does it think this is making itself look good? Look attractive? No. It looks repulsive! If I could get to it, I would defiantly tell that bastard that what it is doing is wrong. And that it should be ashamed.

This is what Bloodrust Mansion thought as it watched Magic Forest in its brief moment of ecstasy. The forest seemed happy as it let out a load of golden red and wet leaves into the sky, the excess of it slowly dripping down the sides of the rivers nearby.

FFFWWWOOOOOOOOOOSSSSHHH!

Really? Again?
Bloodrust Mansion wished it could turn away, but its fixed position made that idea impossible. It just had to bare the horrible eyesore that was Magic Forest. Not that it was unusual. Bloodrust Mansion had been watching Magic Forest for hundreds of years, and it's favorite thing to do was disrobe itself in front of everyone like the exhibitionist it was.


Of course, Bloodrust Mansion hated this. Magic Forest made Mansion feel dirty by forcing it to watch it's strip show. It made Mansion feel like some sort of freak and pervert. What it would rather view was this rumored landmark that was said to be one of the greatest things in the world. A place so pleasant that the landmark's smell alone could send a person into a trance. Something that everyone is told that they should see, but many never have the privilege to do so. That thing was named Ocean.

But alas, Bloodrust Mansion itself was one of those that would never see Ocean. Youkai Mountain was nice but it was way too snooty, and Nameless Hill scared it, Wind was universally disliked since it enabled all of this but worst of all was this stupid pervert Magic Forest!

FFFWWWOOOOOOOOOOSSSSHHH!

Sigh… somebody break me down now.

One day, a group of youkai walked by Bloodrust Mansion, seemingly on an assig

>Be me, high ranking member of the Kiketsu Family. I keep my underlings in line, and make sure the people above me are happy.
>lifeisgood.irezumi
>Be not me, other high ranking member of the family. He's a bit... wierd.
>Seems like every week he's losing a piece of territory or missing a quota and then he gets called in to be punished, by Kicchou-Sama herself.
>Downright terrifying woman, I've seen guys tough as the bastard son of shoe leather and an oni's roast beef break down crying at the thought of drawing her ire.
>Saw this motherfucker skipping to her office once.
>I kid you not this guy will not even have fucked up yet, and just talk about how he's gonna, this big dopy smile on his face.
>One time he did it, in a meeting, when Kicchou-Sama was present, she just told him to meet her in her office and he just skipped there, big dopey smile on his face.
>I just don't get what the fuck is happening here...

First note: This is tied to The Magician's Apprentice Exchanged Cups With an Oni (>>65260) and is ideally read after chapter 9 (>>66514), but can totally be read on its own.
Second note: Archaisms abound.
Third note: This will be updated once a day for six days.

Let's begin.

++++++++

I grew too soaked last night. After I washed the wood from my mouth with the river’s water, from Yuugi I departed, and to find more sake I went. Not yet am I used to alcohol’s back-bite. My skull is in chaos, cacophony. I run my hands through my hair and stop at my budding horns. I touch them, feel them, and confirm. Aye, this is me: oni.

Now to know what it means, young Ibuki.

[ ♫: http://www.infinitelooper.com/?v=rzpsp4KiW3s#/4;133 ]

I groan and grit my teeth, growling bitterlike and unsure why this emotion boils inside me; regret from the sake washed down my throat, or regret that my sweet ignorance had been washed on way? My stomach is wet. What is this, now?

A snoring pink head, over my navel and on sleep. The youngest, the Ibaraki? Had she found me on gain when I went to rest for the night under a far on way tree? This girl, this Kasen, is too charming. “Too”. I had wanted to sleep all lone, and with no drool on my stomach.

This forenoon time is still cool, though, and her head is warm. I embrace it close, and I toy with the tops of her ears.

Through her cute noises and squirming I think. I think, I should not bite through any more twigs from now on, whe’er I am frustrated or not. I think, I should strike Yuugi when next I see her.

Insults. It all feels like the most sland’rous insults. The freedom which I champion, as an oni, is insulted.

We live on the mountain Yatsugatake, and until last night I thought nothing of the tr

Parsee didn’t particularly like humans. Sure, they’re the main source of her sustenance, as the fleeting desires of youkai are not particularly filling meals for the hashihime, but she often finds ones that know to resist her provocations, and while she’s envious of their willpower for doing so, she’d much rather not interact with such persons at all.

As such, she was incredibly annoyed when she found the small boy, dressed in the casual attire of the Outside World, knocking on her front door.

“So there is somebody in this house!” The boy beamed up at her with an irritatingly gleaming smile, “Hello, misses, what are you doing living under this bridge?”

“How even did you get here?” Parsee asked, her sheer disbelief at this entity finding its way down there overriding her immediate disgust and envy at his cheerfulness.

The boy’s smile widened, “Your house is always under the bridge! It doesn’t matter which bridge I crawl under, your house is always here!”

“You...well, did your parents tell you that it’s okay to knock on the doors of strangers?”

“No, but I thought that you must be lonely living under a bridge like this!” The boy fished through his grade school backpack, and produced a bottle of yellow liquid, which he offered to the recoiling hashihime. “So I thought you would like someone else here!”

“Uhh...thanks.” She said with false sincerity, taking the bottle. Her abilities were finding no purchase in the bright mind of the child, and she just wished that he’d go away to wherever he came from. “But I’m sure your cheerful self wouldn’t want to make friends with a lousy youkai like me.”

“What’s a youkai? And you’re not lousy! You have such pretty green eyes, and I really like how your voice sounds!” The child eagerly pointed out his opinions, and Parsee groaned, “And I never saw such fancy clothing, except on TV before! Ooh, and those long ears! Are you one of Santa’s elves?”

She quickly cut him off, “Kid, do you say this to everyone you meet?”

“Of course! Everyone I meet has so much good and nice things about them! I think you’ll be happier too

Okazaki Yumemi was missing—or at the very least, she was five minutes tardy.

Reimu was sleeping in a bed near the Moriya Shrine, Sanae had gave her acsess to sleep there because Reimu was very poor, Kanako saw what Sanae was doing and since Sanae had put the bed there, Kanako rushed to the Hakurei shrine and bombed it all down, Cirno and Aya tried to stop her but she procceded it anyways, Suika - being awake at the time, had managed to escaped and took refuge at Rin's cafe, Reimu woke up and Sanae told her what happened, she started to cry and run to her shrine's part meanwhile Kanako was just walking back home, Reimu attacked Kanako and won, but she had no money! Sanae had 192,681,099 Yen at the time so she donated 2 million of her money.

Satoru, 34, unmarried, (last name not given,) rubbed his eyes.

Two gates over, a boarding announcement sounded out. It was in the usual disembodied, wheedling, electronically-modulated voice which reminded him of a Christmas elf trapped inside a metal barrel, and also gave him the Pavlovian feeling of being a Christmas elf trapped inside a metal barrel.

He lowered his newspaper, and watched as a sharp-dressed set of epaulets and sleeve stripes chatted up the stewardess at the desk. The scrambled egg on the pilot’s cap reminded him of the breakfast he hadn’t had. He thought about a pink film he’d seen once, or maybe not only once, where the pilot had done it with the heroine while he was flying the plane. The actor who’d played the pilot had been an amateur aviator himself, apparently. Satoru only knew this because there was an article in the newspaper about how he’d flown a Cessna into a yakuza boss’ house in Tokyo yesterday.

He decided to put airplanes off his mind.

Ordinarily, this would be a tall order, given the setting—aluminum henhouses tend not to be known for the absence of aluminum hens. But Satoru, 34, unmarried, was not a complacent man, despite the impression that he gave off, which was that he worked a boxy beige device with a name like ‘CS-64RC Mathematronic’ for a living, which was true. But complacent—not so. He was a man of enterprise. When he had chosen his seat, on first arriving at the gate, he had not chosen it arbitrarily. There was a reason he had chosen this seat, which was second from the end and had no arm-rest and where the morning Sun jabbed at his eyes through the panoramic window glass which saved on electric lighting costs.

The reason was it was next to a cute girl. Obviously.

He had, by now, and with the help of the newspaper, surely established his dis-interest in her. This was a crucial step. Girls were contrary creatures that craved attention, but hated to actually receive it—this was the common wisdom among the commiserati which gathered at his bar of choice, the ‘Eight-Headed Snake’. He thought the nam