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File 134587798778.png - (532.97KB, 522x783, Ghosts.png) [iqdb]

Good day, dear reader. I am Zurocha. I am new here with no experience whatsoever on these kinds of stories and you might ask, “Why try a CYOA?”

Well, I just want to try new things. This fic might be long, and (hopefully) regardless of whatever votes you choose, the story will have at least one lemon. I’ll give a heads-up when that happens.

Any votes that end in a bad end will result in the story going back to where the decisive vote was chosen. I will keep on doing such until we reach at least one good end. I might continue after that so that everyone can experience the other good ends that may be possible, but whether I do so is up to my whims.

Also, I will give a one-week window for votes (I can’t manage a smaller window considering that I can only go online weekends). If there are no votes until then, then I will decide which action will be chosen myself (though that might be unlikely). I’ll only cash in my own vote when, after the window, the vote somehow ends up in a draw (2 votes for this versus 2 votes for that; very unlikely), when I’ll vote at random between the two.

I’m also a bit of a slow updater because I have very little time available to me (Weekends and Wednesdays) and because I have another fic going on, so please be patient. Another reason is that I’m writing this all by myself, which means I have to manually check for inconsistencies. I envy those with beta-readers, you know? Oh, and yeah, this chapter got through three or four beta-reads before I posted this (most of it done by my friends at the LetsDanmaku community), but I am not so sure about the succeeding chapters/updates.

Oh, and my OC(s) and the items associated with them will be having non-Japanese non-western names. I will translate for you, Bakunawa, Mawala and Gahinpilak. Bakunawa is, in Philippine mythology, a dragon that eats the moon during eclipses. Mawala means “to disappear” or “to fade” while Gahinpilak (Gahimpilak) is a compound word that means “Hard Silver” …or maybe it was “Hard Gold?” I forgot, and oh, as for what a Karis is, you can do some research about that.

Please note that this story is a work of fiction and Cagayan, as depicted in the pre-Gensokyo part of this first chapter, is radically different from the truth; it is a peaceful place devoid of ANY mafia activity whatsoever. I have been there a couple of times and loved it, so don’t get any misconceptions.

Finally, please note that the majority of the first chapter does not take place in Gensokyo but is rather the MC’s introduction (plus Backstory) and explains how he got to Gensokyo (I originally was going for Yukari gapping him in, but then that is overused, someone told me,) but worry not! All succeeding chapters shall take place in Gensokyo.

That said, enjoy the story, and hopefully, people will participate.

File 134587835868.png - (522.76KB, 522x783, Ghosts1.png) [iqdb]
Bakunawa Mawala busted open the door to his little apartment in downtown Cebu and promptly shut it. He gave his place a quick look; a small wooden bed near a too-large window, a full-body mirror to its left, a cabinet to the other side, and in a corner, a disorganised pile of smelly used clothes.

He grunted; he couldn’t believe how filthy his room had become. He was going to have a date later, and obviously, he can’t bring his girl here, even for… no, especially for some loving.

He cringed at the idea. Oh, how will he ever face her again if she were to see the pathetic state of his room! She might even think of him as a terrible person because of it---!

“Damn,” he said. Laying himself down gently on his wooden bed, he closed his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “I guess I’ll have to clean this up later.”

Bakunawa looked to the side at his mirror and got an idea. Pushing himself off the bed, he landed in front of the mirror and, with haste, stripped himself naked.

He gave himself a look-over and cursed. He realised that it was a bad idea to leave the gym—his body has started to gain some fat and one wouldn’t be lying if one were to say that he gained half of his original weight. His indigo hair has grown too long for him as well and made him look a bit like a girl.

Looking down, he touched his wiener, and then patted it gently as if he were petting his favourite pet dog. “Don’t worry,” he said to his member. “You shall lose your virginity later…”

All of a sudden, his eyes became blank and with a hollow, lifeless voice, whispered to the air, “...I think.”

He marvelled in his form for a few seconds with a dreamy haze about him. It’s almost as if it belonged to someone else’s body. This fat bastard can’t be him, who once won a highly prestigious fitness contest, right?

After a few long seconds, his soul returned to reality and realising the direction his thoughts were going just a while ago, laughed. He laughed at his own pathetic, fat body and his virginity. But most of all, he laughed his self-denial. After all, he could recover the glory of his body with some exercise, right?

Well, that… and some steroids maybe.

Still laughing his arse off, he was about to dress himself for his date when suddenly, he felt as if someone were embracing him. He felt a presence wrap its arms around him and a wonderful, comforting sensation took his senses. It was as if his worries were severed and now he lay in heaven, his woes a league too many far away from him to be of a bother. It was as if some heaven-sent angel felt his misery and came to ease his soul.

He stood there for what seemed to be an eternity, shedding tears and emotion that he never let out for how long…? Seven years? Eight years? Must have been something like that. In the twenty years that he has lived, he was never one to open his floodgates freely and the last time he did so was when he was a snotty little kid.

There was a knock by his door, followed by someone calling him out, but he heard not, for he was at bliss, and his self in peace. The entire material world meant nothing to him now, now that he…

There was a loud crash and that glorious feeling promptly left him as someone stomped into the room, fuming and with a red face.

Startled, Bakunawa turned around and frowned at the intruder. His crimson eyes met an obsidian pair that reflected him in full. He saw a distinctive mohawk, a wide, gaping mouth and the shock evident on a familiar, square-shaped face.

A second later, he managed to snap out of his shock and scream, “Felix?”

He felt tension building up in his body; did his best friend, of all people, just walk in on him inspecting his body? He felt violated, hurt, and ashamed, a deep blush painting his paler-than-normal yellow skin a bright red.

Felix Gozon, his long-time friend, had entered the room forcibly when he received no response from the other side of the door even when he shouted like hell for his friend. He was infuriated then, thinking that maybe his friend forgot all about a trip to the southern island of Mindanao as soon as he entered the room or worse, committed suicide. He has been strange ever since a horrible incident a year past, and that made him worry for his friend’s mental health a bit.

As soon as he saw his friend staring into nowhere in front of the mirror, naked, he suddenly felt horrible about disrupting his friend. Something spoke in the back of his mind that he just ruined something beautiful, and, he even felt worse when his friend turned around and faced him.

When he saw his friend in front of the mirror with a black, pleased look, he, for a moment, thought that maybe his friend was some sort of narcissist, though that assumption quickly shattered when he saw the confused and shocked look on his friend’s eyes.

Felix thought that he recognised the look of a drug addict in Bakunawa, and was thinking about recommending him to a drug recovery asylum when his thoughts were halted suddenly by an ear-splitting scream.

Bakunawa, as one would expect a man caught in an embarrassing moment, got into a fit of rage. It took thirty minutes before Felix successfully calmed his friend down, who, now dressed, told him about the strange feeling he felt before he busted in.

“Seriously bro, I felt like I was floating,” Bakunawa said to Felix, both of them sitting side-by-side on the wooden bed. The stranger of the two had his elbows resting on his knees and his hands combing his hair while the other crossed his legs, a cigarette between his lips.

Felix nodded, then, with a voice that said a lot about his disbelief, he said, “Mmhmm, cool story bro. Are you sure you are not taking any drugs and stuff?”

“I’m takin’ no mothafuckin’ drugs,” growled Bakunawa as he slammed his right fist into his wooden bed. A mistake, for he missed the flat surface and ended up slamming his fist against the edge of the furniture instead. He recoiled and whimpered quite pathetically as he held his hurt hand tight against himself. His voice now tiny and meek, he said, “Please… believe me.”

Felix raised an eyebrow and, with a sigh, said, “Alright, I believe you. So, stop hurting yourself, will ya?”

His friend gave him a weak nod, still holding his now-swollen hand against his chest. Feeling sad for the whimpering person beside him, he gave him a few consoling pats on his back. “My,” he thought. “Where did that old jolly toughie Bakunawa of last year go to? He’s become a wimp in such little time.”

The wimp suddenly realised something and, straightening his back, he turned to Felix and asked, “Hey, Felix. Remember that I was about to go on a date with Marie? Do you have any good clothes with you?”

It dawned onto Felix why his friend became entranced in front of the mirror like that. He mixed up his past memories with his newer ones yet again and thought that he was about to go on a date with his girlfriend and not pack his things for the trip.

It saddened him, for until a year ago, these things never happened to his friend. It was ever since that unfortunate incident that his mind and gradually fell into ruin.

A grim look on his face, Felix said, “That date with her was one year in the past and you already finished it,” looking at his friend’s face, which was seized by confusion yet again, he added, “She is away on a trip. She won’t return for a long, long time.”


“Yes, your dear Marisa de Corazon won’t be around you for a while.”

Hearing that name somehow filled the red-eyed man’s heart with sadness and a grave sense of loss. Despite the feeling, he steeled himself and his will that his beloved shall be in his arms once again.

“I shall wait for her return then,” said Bakunawa with determination in his eyes. “Even if it takes me forever, I shall wait for her.”

“What a hopeless romantic,” thought Felix as he patted his friend’s back once more. “He didn’t seem to get what I meant though. Ah, well… we’re leaving in two days. He’ll be alright by then.”


Two days after that incident in that small, messy room, both Bakunawa and Felix joyfully leaped out between the gates of Cagayan de Oro airport just in time to get in the way of a young lady photographer, ruining her shoot and fleeing the scene as rapidly as they could as the lady threw profanities their way.

Cagayan de Oro airport is different from many other airports in that it was built on top of a range of hills and was surrounded not by tall skyscrapers, but scenic trees and mounds of green. A perfect place for a photographer to be, should one be interested in verdant scenes with spectacular waves of lightly forested earth.

Laughing maniacally, the duo ran past rows and rows of pastel-coloured houses, their luggage trailing behind them and making nearly as much noise as their own boisterous laughter.

They heard radio stations warning them about a bunch of Mafioso from southern Italy visiting the city they were running through and attacking people that interest the gang, but the two ignored them and went on, brimming with excitement at the prospect of messing around with a few people while touring the place.

Before long, the two tired out and collapsed by the sidewalk, Bakunawa fishing for a bottle of some kind of energy drink from his pack, while Felix collapsed against his own baggage. The two were breathing heavily, but even so, it seemed like they were not yet done, and neither of the two seem to be willing to stop short of running until their hearts burst.

Bakunawa looked at the path left to run; it would the two of them two hours of more running before they could reach the downtown while Felix looked back at how far they have gone, and it seemed to be a lot. He estimated the money they saved from their taxi fare while running to be close to twenty pesos, and while not really a lot, every coin counts.

“Hey,” said Felix, his head slumped back against his bag. “Want to run some more?”

“No thanks. It would be dusk before we arrive if we kept on running,” replied Bakunawa. A taxi would have been a better alternative to running at this point, for the sun was already at its zenith and was beating down on them hard.

Felix nodded and as if on cue, a yellow taxi cruised by conveniently. Bakunawa waved it down and, as soon as they finished loading their baggage, collapsed into the back seat. “Bring us to the marketplace, sir,” said Felix to the old, kindly-looking and smiling man at the wheel. Why not? The two were starving and finding a hot meal sounded like a good idea.

The driver’s face turned pale and his smile became a sad frown for a second before he said, with a forlorn ring to his voice, “Give me half pay.”

The two sighed happily as they collapsed completely into the seat. However, for all their happiness, Bakunawa couldn’t help but feel that going to the marketplace was somehow a mistake, with the driver acting all strange and giving them such a wonderful offer and all, but he was too tired to think about it and closed his eyes.

He opened them a few times along the way and casually observed the daily life of the people around him before closing his eyes yet again. Traffic slowed them down a few times, but despite that, in an hour, the two were dropped by at the marketplace and as requested by the driver, they paid half the usual rate. They thanked the driver before he went away. The driver replied with a quick ‘you’re welcome’[i] in the city’s dialect of their shared Bisaya tongue before driving off, his face stiff, as if he were a man condemned to stand in front of a firing squad.

Footsteps calmly approached them, but they didn’t notice it, for they were too busy talking about what to eat; restaurants surrounded them like exhibits in a museum, and they all looked promising.

They did not notice the man in a black suit with a suspicious black fedora approach them from behind. When they did, it was too late and the man had held a magnum against Bakunawa’s back. Speaking in vernacular, with a dry Italian accent, the man said, “No sudden movements, amico. Turn around slowly.”

Shocked, the two of them slowly turned around. They could feel tension in the air as the man slowly raised the tip of his barrel from Bakunawa’s chest to his forehead.

“Tell me, Amico. How are you with that man who brought you here?” he asked, still in vernacular, his tone calm.

Felix had no idea as to what was going on, except that they are being threatened by a mafia type that obviously isn’t a native speaker of the Bisaya language. Stuttering, he gave the only answer he could. “H…he was a taxi driver! H…he… he drove the taxi and-”

A loud gunshot rang through the marketplace and it was only at this time that the two realised that the marketplace was deserted; it seemed to have gone quiet as soon as the man shoved the barrel of his gun against Bakunawa’s back.

However, despite the seeming emptiness, they could feel eyes all over them, trained to watch their each and every movement. Felix tensed up; he never expected this and sure as hell he did not come to Cagayan to be killed by visiting Mafioso.

Now that he thought about it, he chided himself that he did not do so much as listen to the news. He remembered fuzzily about a broadcast from a particularly loud radio that the mafia came to make demands to a gun-shop owner who had failed to provide them with weapons for over a month. He also remembered that the gun-shop was supposed to be in the marketplace area.

However, while his friend slowly drowned in fear, Bakunawa could feel himself feeling hyper. He was not shot, for the Mafioso had merely shot the sky as a warning for his friend, and that made him even more excited.

Surprising everybody, even the Mafioso, he suddenly started laughing like a maniac. “This is precious,” he spat out. “You want to challenge me, old man?”

The Mafioso tensed up and Felix could see the hand on the gun shake in anger. No sane person would insult an armed Mafioso, and especially not with eyes all around, watching them.

The Mafioso slowly raised his hand and pressed the tip of his gun on the apparently insane person. “You know,” said the Mafioso after he spat on the ground in front of the man before him. “It’s a bad idea to insult a Mafioso, amico. And you just did.”

He backed off slightly and pulled out a small black box with a retractable antenna and a single red button. Not lowering his gun, he tossed it into the air and caught it by its antenna, pulling it to its full length. A wicked grin on his face, he asked, “Do you know what happened to the last person to defy my mafia, amico?”

The Mafioso pressed the button and in the distance, a loud explosion could be heard along with what seemed to be police sirens. “That,” he said in the flat voice of a discipline officer and his grin widening as he saw the mortified look that sank into Felix’s face.

Felix tensed as he saw the Mafioso pack his gun; they were a goner, for sure. He was sure that he could wrestle the gun out of the man quite easily, but even if he were to do so, then he and Bakunawa would be shot mercilessly by the men in the shadows.

If humans were able to get drunk on the fear of others, then the Mafioso must have been already, for the look on his face was wonderfully terrifying when he pushed his gun against the side of Bakunawa’s head. “Let’s get back to you then, Amico. I hope you have said your pra-”

He stopped suddenly and his face turned blue when he heard sirens approach them, and not just from a small team of cops, but from what seemed to be a whole squad, for he could hear helicopters and the roar of trucks among the growling of everyday police cars.

The Mafioso took a step back, hesitating. This was trouble… was he turned in by the flaming prick before the car bomb blasted him? Damn him! Damn him to hell!

With hurried steps, the Mafioso ran towards a black Ferrari parked nearby and was joined briefly by several other men in black, all of which looked like him from where Felix stood, save for a ridiculously obese and short chap wearing a red shirt and enough jewellery to make him a moving, living gold mine.

The fat man got in on the driver’s side and brought the sleek metal beast to life with a loud, awesome roar. Its eyes shone like a pair of sinister evil stars behind red glass, filling the deserted marketplace with a demonic red light.

Felix fled into one of the open restaurants and hid while the other, for some unknown, insane reason, stayed in place. The beast lurched forward, sped up and, moving too fast for him to evade, ran over Bakunawa, backed up, and made a beeline for the only way out of the marketplace, which was built in the fashion of a cul-de-sac.

One of its rear windows rolled down and a person popped out of it up to his waist. He started shooting at the restaurant where Felix was hiding filling the poor man’s heart with fear. The sound of gunfire shook the air like a war drum and broken glass flew like rain in monsoon season.

The sirens were louder now, and just as the Ferrari was about to make a successful escape, two police cars and an army track with the American flag on it blocked its way. The black demon whined like a cornered beast would and backed off. More men from within popped out of the windows and desperately started shooting at the servants of the law, who themselves pulled out their rifles and submachine guns.

The sound of gunshots was no longer the beating of war drums and the orchestra of chaos took its place: Tires screeched, bullet casings tinkled against the ground with music like windchimes, all nearby men and women wailed in horror and engines roared. Guns popped like firecrackers in Christmastime and bullets whistled like a thousand jets, filling the air with the sound of war.

There was a crunch as the Mafioso car ran over Bakunawa’s inert body once more, and then, without warning, a hidden car bomb suddenly burst.

[I]Somewhere in Italy, a mafia capo was observing the expedition, which he financed. He wanted to seek out and interrogate one of their rogue gun dealers and sent a five-man team with one of the lesser bosses act as the expedition leader. It was going well until they somehow got cornered by the local police and American military. He deemed them a worthless cause and a threat lest they spill the beans about the mafia and detonated a small remote-control bomb he attached for safety.

He revelled in the sight of a blank screen, for the miniature camera he used to keep track of their movements had gone up with the flames. Satisfied of a job well done, he turned and left.

There was a loud, deafening climax as the black demon went up in fire and smoke. The men within it had not even a second to scream as their lives were suddenly and mercilessly burned off.

As the slain beast burned in the flames of its demise, the police closed in on it warily and, underneath it, charred and stiff, was the body of Bakunawa.

Frantic yelling took to the air as the police pulled out the body and did their best to keep all onlookers away. Water was poured on Bakunawa’s darkened form. “He’s alive,” somebody said.
File 13458787456.png - (516.92KB, 522x783, Ghosts1b.png) [iqdb]
“The dead body of Gat Tomas Guzman, a well-known gun dealer, was found dead inside his burning car last Saturday. Witnesses claim that he had…”

Felix turned away from the pretty little newscaster on the television that hung in the hospital room and looked at his friend’s comatose form. It has been a week since the incident with the mafia and he was as bad as he was when he was rushed in.

Normally, he would talk about how sexy or hot the people in television are and tease his friend about it, and once he even got so far as to call a famous actress and have Bakunawa pick up the line. Predictably, his friend went all red and shy then when the actor proposed a blind date with him. The actor was Marisa de Corazon and it turned out then that she wanted someone to call her just like that since forever. Ever since that incident, Bakunawa would often refer to Felix as “The Matchmaker,” a title he coveted and was proud of.

However, looking at his best friend’s black-and-blue burned form, he considered calling himself “El Asesino” as well.

Felix looked at the Television screen and changed the channel. He gasped when he saw the face shown on the screen. It featured the same news article as the previous channel, but in this particular channel, they showed the face of the victim.

It was the taxi driver that had driven them, and as the newscaster narrated the man’s connections with the mafia, he was shocked. Apparently, the man was a former gun-dealer who stopped supplying the mafia a year ago and was the target of the small band of Mafioso that caused him and Bakunawa so much trouble. He had become an agent of the American government and had them do a joint venture to root out some of the mafia, hopefully to interrogate them, and the two had unwittingly got themselves involved.

Felix moaned and hung his head on his shoulders. He had heard in the previous channel that the gun shop was in the marketplace and realised the reason why the man looked so glum. He had effectively led the gun dealer-turned-driver and Bakunawa to their graves.

He burst into tears when his friend crossed his mind and glanced at the stiff body once more.

Remorse flooded him. Was it not he who suggested the trip to Cagayan? Was it not he as well who wanted to go to the market and abandoned the other when bad became worse? He felt that he should have at least pulled his friend along with him. If he did that, then Bakunawa might still be healthy and the incident with the mafia, nothing more than yet another fun event in their stay.

He punched himself and felt the long knife in his pants’ left pocket when he cringed at the pain. He smiled a bit when he realised what he had put it in there for: should Bakunawa cross over completely, he shall kill himself and follow him.

He was startled when the hospital machines suddenly screamed and when he looked up, his friend’s body was gone.

He was about to run outside and go on a wild rampage when he suddenly felt himself being lifted by… something. He looked at his body and if he could, he would have screamed, for his body was turning transparent. Alas he could not and could only grimace in horror as he disappeared completely.


Bakunawa felt the air being pushed out of his body, and then there was darkness. It seemed like an eternity for him, floating around in nothingness and full of confusion. “What the fucking hell just happened?” he wondered.

After some time, he felt himself being pulled along by a powerful force and at the same time, recovered his vision and nearly gasped as he saw the ground below him at an incredible speed. He flew outside of what seemed to be a hospital and shot at impossible speeds past mountains, oceans, cities and seas. He was moving far too fast for him to take note of any landmarks, but he felt that he was moving eastwards with a slight northern tilt.

Three days passed, and he had flown around the globe over eighty times already, and he felt like puking, but somehow, he can’t. In the distance, he saw a bright white net before him and before he could say hey, he crashed into it at high speed and he could feel it slowly bend to let him through.

It was unbearably bright and pushed against him with an awesome force, yet he could neither resist whatever was pulling him nor shut out his vision to spare him the light.

Not that he needed to, for the light somehow didn’t hurt him in the least. Rather, both the light and the pressure seemed to comfort him instead.

The net yielded to him and he passed through, and on the other side was a dank, moist and overgrown forest with a soft, mushy ground the texture of cow manure.

For a moment, he thought that someone was calling him. He shrugged it off at first, but a voice kept beckoning for him, it seemed.

After a while, he could hear the voice clearly. It was a from behind him and, when he saw who stood there, his heart leapt with so much joy that he felt that he were flying and his eyes rained tears upon the ground.

It was his love, Marisa de Corazon. She had not changed at all since the last time he saw her. Her eyes were so black and deep that his own would often drown in it, set in a perfect face that had sent many a man to idle dreaming.

Her hair was like a waterfall of obsidian rippling down her body, which was dressed in a simple white gown, past amply-sized breasts down to her tantalising hips.

“Mine love, mine Marie,” he cried out, dropping to his knees before his long-lost beloved. “Why hast thou forsaken me all these days? Whither hast thou went, that thou must leave me in solitude?”

“My, my, I never did,” she said, an ethereal ring to her voice. “And you don’t have to talk like that. It’s weird, you know?” There was a pause, and then she added, “It seems like you’ve gotten yourself messed up since my death, haven’t you?”

The last bit of information shocked Bakunawa and stemmed his tears. Marie... she’s dead? It couldn’t be…! Isn’t she standing before him now and didn’t they just part ways at the train station a year ago?

Train Station. As soon as he thought of that, a strong pain flooded his mind and little by little, he remembered what happened back then.

Bakunawa was smiling as he held her girl’s hands, waiting for the train they were riding to reach their next stop. They were standing near the doors of the train, dreamily basking in each others’ presence and watching downtown Manila fly by.

The serpentine white vehicle slowed down to a halt as train conductor announced its arrival at one of its stops in its endless circular journey.

The train came to a halt and as the doors opened and the conductor gave clearance, Bakunawa jumped out, holding a hand to his beloved as a gentleman would. She stepped out, but before she could fully exit the train, a freak mechanical malfunction caused the train’s doors to close in suddenly and trapped Marisa de Corazon in a powerful vice grip.

A wail of horror welled from Bakunawa’s throat when he realised what happened, and grabbed desperately unto her lover’s hand. The passengers still inside the car tried to help out as well, some trying to pry the doors open and others trying to push the poor girl outside the car.

However, to all their horrors, the conductor, unaware of the drama that transpired, brought the car forward. The passengers started screaming and chaos erupted in the cars. Desperate shouts like “stop the train” and “Somebody fucking pull the bloody emergency brakes!” echoed throughout the cars in both English and the local Tagalog. Men jumped between trains, running to the front with hopes of having the conductor stop the train in time.

The gain had gathered speed and Bakunawa ran alongside it, never letting go of his beloved’s hands. Both of them were crying sadly right now, and even as a few policemen chased after Begging for him to stop, he never did, for he felt that if he let go of his beloved, he would regret it deeply.

The train had gotten dangerously fast and even the then-athletic Bakunawa had a hard time catching up already. The doors haven’t opened yet, and the walls marking the end of the station and the beginning of the tunnel outside was getting horrifyingly near and was approaching at a disheartening pace.

The men were nearing the conductor, but it was too late for the two lovers and the last word that Bakunawa heard from his beloved was a sad, painful “goodbye.”

The next thing Bakunawa knew was the horrible sound of her lover’s head splattering against concrete and while the men, women and children within the car screamed with terror, their hearts scarred for life by such a close encounter with death, Bakunawa’s body slammed against the same wall back first, then slumped down.

The pain flooded Bakunawa, but the thing that filled his mind was not the physical suffering, but a feeling similar to, but much more horrible than total emptiness. His body was painted with blood and adorned by the fragmented remains of his lover’s skull and brain matter.

He sobbed, and little by little, the world slowly lost its meaning to him.

Ah, yes. The memories of what had been the saddest chapter in his life came back to him. He remembered how the policemen who came to help him backed off when they saw his face. He didn’t have a mirror, but he must have looked crazed back then. He remembered how the conductor was sued and imprisoned for homicide, but what confused him was that, if his memory served him correctly, then his lover would have been dead.

He raised his head and his love gave him a knowing nod. “I am dead, and so are you,” she said as she floated down to him.

He stayed there, unmoving, mesmerised… Him? Dead? He did not know how he died, but at least he gets to be with his missing half.

Only two words from his beloved Marie brought the memory back to him. “The Mafia,” she said.

Bakunawa felt like slapping himself for forgetting such a recent event. When he remembered the part where he provoked the Mafioso, he felt like doing so twice. What kind of stupid idiot was he to think that man was just some random gangster bluffing?

He felt disgust to himself. He didn’t even fucking move when the fucking mafias ran their flaming car over his fucking dead body!

“I got a surprise for you,” said his beloved. “Look beside you.”

He complied and got the surprise of his life when he saw himself, breathing and lying on his back on the ground. “Your body,” said Maria. “I brought it for you. Return to the world of the living, my love. Your time has not come yet.”

“But I want to be with you! I’d rather be dead and be with you than live a life without you, oh my beloved!” screamed out the man, throwing his arms around Marie. He was surprised even more when she angrily pushed him aside and said, “Get the hell back into your body! It was a sin for me to stop your soul from crossing over into the world of the dead and even more of a sin for a ghost to carry a lifeless living body anywhere! I fucking committed two heavy sins for you, so don’t be a fucking ungrateful prick!”

Bakunawa shrunk back. He never thought that his love could speak so harshly to him, but if what she said was right, then she was more than justified for her actions. He glanced at his living lifeless body again and was pondering about how to get back into his body when he noticed a smooth silver sword by its side.

It looked like the heirloom Karis sword his Marie had when she had been training in the sword arts in Japan, which, apparently, never got the slightest of scrapes nor get the least bit dull even when struck against diamonds.

“Hey, is that…” he started, but before he could finish his question, his beloved nodded and answered him; “Yes, that is Gahinpilak, and I’m sure you know that it has proven indestructible so far. I pray that you wouldn’t be the first to create so much as a scratch on its centuries-old blade.”

He turned around, but before he could do so much as to nod, he was shoved by his chest and pushed into his physical body.

When he woke up a second or so later, he found a letter on his chest. It read, in a familiar cursive script,

“To my dear Bakunawa.
You are now in a place called Gensokyo. This place is full of girls that may provide you company until we meet again, but I suggest you be careful because many of them can kill you on a whim.
Love, Marie.
P.S. I have given you my knowledge of Japanese and swordfighting. Oh, and don’t get too close with the girl who wears black and white.”

He lovingly pocketed the letter, and just as he did so, he heard his stomach growl and at the same time, realised how thirsty he was. It was like his throat was sun-dried to a crisp and every breath was like salt on a raw wound. Bakunawa thought that it was the side-effect of being somehow carried by a ghost or maybe it was because of near-death, but he did not care at all. All he wished for was his love by his side again… and some food and drinks to sate his body’s needs.

He heard coughing and looked beside him. There he was, Felix, his best friend, lying face down on the ground beside him. How he managed to not notice him before was beyond him, but there was another note on top of his body, saying that the man would be a good guide for him in the magical world. He took his eyes off his best friend; he would wake the sleeping chap up before they leave, in time.

As he seemed to be in the middle of a forest, he decided that a quick survey were in order for him to get his bearings. There appear to be three roads, one that led straight forward, another to his left that climbed up a hill towards a western-looking house, and another, by his right, apparently deeper into the forest.

The western-looking house looked a bit empty and apparently, no-one was inside, so it might not be a good idea to go there at all, but the road straight forward seemed promising and on the one to the right had a sign in kanji saying “Road for arriving at the Mushroom Patch.”

His stomach growled and he pondered on his choice. Straight forward? Maybe he’ll get out of this wet, dank forest and meet civilisation… or maybe he could go to the right for an instant meal. Though… mushrooms found in a forest might not be so edible.

Decision Point:

1: Go straight forward
It’s better to conserve energy and the forest looks good to the eyes. My stomach can wait, you know?

-Scream like a Sissy.
But come to think of it, it is much to have any people around notice you… who knows? Maybe they could help.

Something about Marie’s letter told me that I need to keep my eyes peeled.

I need fast food. Do they run Jollibee or MacDonald’s branches around here?

2: Go deeper into the forest.

-Pick mushrooms found.
I’ve got a real bad feeling about this. You know, star-wars style. I am Han Solo. Wait, the sword makes me Luke.

-Hunt for wild animals and eat them raw.
I have Marie’s sword and my great grandfather was known for no-cook cannibalism… not that I’m a wild animal, obviously. But I can resort to cannibalism when required… I think.

-Eat grass and wild fruits.
Why not? Cows eat them….

-Eat Funny-looking leaves.
Yup, they are strange ai’ght. They’re glowing and giving off a strange aura that is making my mouth water.
I say run and don't look back. The Forest of Magic has some nasty creepy crawlies lurking about...

Okay, I'm just going to turn away and pretend this never happened.
>Has actual e-mail in the e-mail field
>Story doesn't so far doesn't do much for the overall point
>names seem akin to someone headbutting a keyboard.

Well good thing there's the hide button and for you that /blue/'s lax.
> 34878
OCs? Well, the only ones are the MC, his buddy, and the ghost of his girlfriend, which will be absent most of the time.

> 34879


Don't worry about the plot, since there IS plot. It's way too early for anyone to judge that, anon.
As for the names, well, I guess the language struck ye as strange. Would it be strange if the MC were an Indonesian with a Russian name? I think so.

> 34877

Chillax, bro. The forest of magic is a wonderful, peaceful place... not!
Wise choice.
Votes closed, folks, and I am dismayed to see that there is only one vote, but hey! Even if there is only one who did vote, and even when it ain't no ferkin' mob votin' for me, I will write to the fullest for that one person.
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