[x] What's all this about a 'were-hakutaku' anyway?
[x] She seemed kind of cranky when I talked to her. Is that normal for her?
[X] This "outside world trinket" shop seems interesting. Maybe they could give me some more precise directions.

"Oh, are you guys talking about her being a, er… were-hakutaku?"

One of the guys, just out of his teens with patchy facial hair, let out a laugh. "Yeah. Don't ask me how it works; I doubt even the Hiedas know. The gist of it is: get bit by something and change into it on the full moon. This something happened to be a hakutaku.” He waved over to someone a few years older than him. “Masa, you know more than me. What was that thing again?"

"I've heard that a hakutaku is a beast that appears to give advice to kings once they've proven they’re all virtuous and sagely,” his friend answered. “It can name each and every type of youkai in the world, how to exterminate the evil ones, how to cozy up to the good ones, all that good stuff." He drew lazy circles with his hand. "So, kinda like the youkai equivalent of the Hiedas, heh."

"The Hiedas, huh?" I scratched my head. The name was sort of familiar, but all I had to go on was what Kasen told me, which was very little.

A grin spread on one of the older women's faces. "That's right, it was that Yasumi girl who wrote that book for outsiders, wasn’t it?"

The whole bath shared a chuckle. Oh, right, there was that rivalry over ‘plagiarism’ or something.

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Here's a rather short story whose magical evening is only a few choices long. Putting brevity aside, it'll hopefully still be fun. Follow your hearts and all will be well.

-

She’s late.

It’s a thought that’s annoyingly hard to dismiss. Logic threatens to reach some sort of conclusion from that fact. Specifically, it’s the sort conclusion that makes you weak in the knees. So you keep telling yourself that she’s just being fashionably late.

At least it’s somewhat comforting to know that you’re not the only one made to wait. A few individuals and small groups loiter in the reception area, making small talk and stealing the occasional furtive glance towards the door. This fellowship is usually short-lived, however, as most of those waiting are only there for a few minutes. Some run out of patience and ask to be seated, ushered beyond the separating curtain, leaving their companions to sheepishly ask after them at the reception when they arrive. Others choose to wait right there and greet their friends as they come in, going in as one happy group.

Though there’s still a few people waiting that arrived at around the same time as you, none have been there quite as long as you have. After checking in on your reservation, you had stood to one side of the room. That was about a half hour ago by your reckoning. A few minutes ago, you got an annoyingly sympathetic look from the one of the wait staff. Her eyes said everything that you had been working so hard to avoid thinking about. She saw someone well-dressed, with a reservation for two, waiting for his date and reached the natural conclusion…

But how could she know you were on a date? Well, it was the most popular restaurant in the village. During the day farmers and merchants showed up for hearty lunches but the atmosphere was completely different at night. With soft, live music and candlelight, it was a natural draw for couples and closely-knit groups of friends. The somewhat private location of the restaurant on the western edge of the central park was conducive for intimate strolls under the moonlight after meals. So, therefo

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Billy Herrington awoke with a start, a flash in his eyes, and a pain in his rectum. Looking around, there was a thick fog around him through which he could discern the shadows of trees. Suddenly he hears a rustling noise approach him.

Konichiwa! Gomenesai!
Is this Japan?
And you?
A little computer guy?

“No I am the strongest!” said the miniscule shadow in the corner of his eye. He turned about to see a small blue idiot. “Are you some sort of karate master? You know I’ve always to come to Japan because of my background in karate.”
“What’s karate are you lost mister?” inquired the blue idiot.
“When you lose your way it’s probably because of fairies.”

“I guess I’m the one at the wrong door this time.” He said reminiscing of his days with Van Darkholme. “Door?” Cirno said. Suddenly more rustling and a gust of air from behind. At this point a gushing beam of vehement life eliminated the blue idiot’s map for keeps. “Why did you did you go offscreen damn you?” It was a witch…. Billy thought. “Wait this isn’t Japan!” he cried out in ecstasy and dismay. “What’s japan?” said the witch. “The subject behind my studies!” Billy exclamated. The witch looked at him worriedly having not seen anyone more muscular than Rinnosuke before. “This is the land of illusion.” she said, “namely Gensokyo.” “Yeah yeah okay where’s the gym then?” “This isn’t pokemon you know.” Said an extremely thin man with a flowery hat and a large glass of beer in the sky. “So you’re the little computer guy!” said Billy “The little computer guy in the sky!” ZUN looked at him worriedly, also never having seen anyone more muscular than Rinnosuke, before disappearing into thin air. “I need your help!” said Billy. “If there’s no gym how do I keep my gains?” “You’re obviously not from here.” Marissa said. “I know someone who can help take you back.” “So you know a place where I can practice my karate skills?”
“Eh, well, just hop on my broom.”
“Okay!” exclaimed Billy excitedly, as he placed Marisa’s firm, long broom handle in

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“Who’s Kisume?”

“You’re about to find out.”

All your mental alarms go off simultaneously, but you refrain from acting to avoid making a mess of the situation. You silently reach out with your senses, but all you get is the echoing gloom of the cave—

Wait.

“...don’t ya fecking dare!” It’s faint, but you can hear Sekibanki slipping into her Irish accent from somewhere behind you.

“Seki?” You turn around to try to get a better head on her location, Yamame temporarily forgotten as you listen for—

“DUCK!”

Drop into a crouch and immediately feel something go flying past you, ruffling the hairs on the top of your head, and impacting on something with a painful-sounding “GAH!” from two voices.

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I hunger. Radishes taste nice. Look, I have radishes in my arms. How nice. I wonder who put them there. Master wanted radishes…. Maybe she wants these radishes! I forgot where I am. Master says I need to try and think more. I’m thinking hard right now. I can’t remember where I am for the life of me. There’s a weird lady standing outside that wall over there. Maybe I could talk to her. Oh, I don’t know. I’m thinking but I can’t decide…
[] You could talk to the lady…
[] …or you could ignore her and look towards the lake.
[] Perhaps you want to make your own choice?

*WHAM*

I awake with a start, jumping in my seat, eyes flying open.

Bright light sears my vision, my world a white blur. I instinctively screw my eyes shut, grimacing at the thought of exposing them again. A dull pain stomps its way across my forehead, prompting me to gnash my teeth. I reach up to massage it - ouch! My shoulders tighten at the pain and my heart pounds in response. Is that a bump? Slumping down in resignation, I take a moment to gather myself, focusing on slowing my breathing.

This sucks.

What feels like an eternity passes before I open my eyes again, this time bracing myself for round two of blinding light.

I slowly pry open my eyelids. Sterile fluorescent lights glare off immaculately polished rows of desks to either side of me. A lectern stands in front, a logo proudly emblazoned on rich mahogany sides. Behind it, a dull, gray chalkboard nearly as pristine as the desks next to me. Linoleum flooring squeaks as I shuffle around in my seat, hastily surveying my surroundings.

All in all, a very tidy classroom presents itself. I hear nothing except for the drone of the lights and my own ragged breathing. Unease starts to seep through my thoughts as questions spring from my hazy mind.

Did I fall asleep in class? What time is it?

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The simple straw doll stared eyelessly at me from where it had been tied to a tree with a length of coarse linen. Quickly but meticulously made, a certain sign I was still walking in the right direction. A black substance emerged slowly, delicately from between the straws, clinging to the wood and flowing gently upwards. Like incense smoke in still air, but of solid black, as if someone had plucked up a line of ink by one end and lifted it clear from the paper. It reacted as I approached, turning towards me as I gingerly placed my hand upon its host. It continued to move with the same ethereal smoothness as before, but now with the purpose I’d given it. With the push of a thought, it coiled around my fingers, spinning, up my wrist and arm, over my long sleeves, to finally slip into my chest like a dagger to the heart. I had gotten used to it, but seeing it move across my skin without even the scantest whisper of sound or feeling was still novel every time.
It all took less than a half-minute. I’d performed the entire ritual dozens of times this week alone. The doll was drained then, and all that was left to do was methodically cut the ties, take it down and scatter the now mundane straws in the wind. This latter part wasn’t strictly necessary, but there was no sense in leaving the doll here to spook random people.
Even being as slim as a silk string, to me the smoke-like substance coming from the next marker was clearly visible from just over the horizon, probably a good couple of hard hours away. I suppressed a sigh, folded my skirt beneath me and sat against the tree. Only a very short break, that’s all.
The sun was nearly fully down, although I could feasibly have travelled at night with the bright moon for a companion. I’d long abandoned what road there was – an overgrown dirt path that looked as though it had seen no men for months. I hadn’t seen another person at all for a full three days and change. This far from the rule of law, a path like that was as likely to lead into trouble as not. And anyway – I thought, fiddling with the string I’d just recovered – I had my own guide.

I leaned my head back against the trunk, thinking. Where were we goin

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[-h+2-] Press forward and find them. It's all she can do.

------------

"Get… Get a hold of yourself, Rika." The girl continues to pant to before forcing a step forward. "Just… I have to find them. I have to… They'll be fine. Nothing happened to them. They took care of it and they'll… they'll be just fine…"

Eventually, Rika manages to look back up through the forest before beginning to skulk back through the trees. She continues to look back and forth, her hair whipping back and forth in its ruined state. There's nothing that she can see; there's nothing lingering but for the trees.

"…Where… where would they have gone? They couldn't have been taken. Marisa was better than that. Wasn't she? She was, wasn't she?" The question goes unanswered; she dearly hopes that she has the answer, but the weight at the bottom of her stomach continues to call her assurances into question. Though unable to cast those aside, he continues to amble along through the silent, still, stale forest. She continues to walk until, at last, she finds a mark of life.

Or, at least, the remains of it. The tree line is charred with the faint outline of a hole. Various other burn marks litter the ground, pock marking the dirt and turning over the sod. One tree has been toppled over with the trunk being savagely cracked by impact. Of the jagged shards that still stick up from the trunk, she sees stray, tattered feathers along with fresh blood caking the outer edges of the wood. The ground beneath it is disturbed, but there is no trail from which a body would have been dragged.

Rika gulps silently and look around, her eyes searching for more. She sees more pitted earth along with another tree that seems to be half uprooted. A rock is extruded from underneath, lifting it up and tilting it over. Near the roots of that tree, however, are two strips of familiar black cloth pinned into thin gashes within the wood. "…Marisa? You're still here, right? You just… You got into a big and bloody fight, right? That's all. You'll

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You groan, a sharp pain throbbing in your head as you wake up. You probably shouldn't have gone on a bender like you did.

In fact, you probably shouldn't have gone on one at all. Last night, which was the your first bender, was coincidentally your first drink at all. You groan again, raising your hand to your head.

For a few seconds you think about how much smaller your hand feels, but then dismiss it. It must just be your imagination, or a remnant of the alcohol still being purged from your system.

The memories from last night are hazy, but with a bit of concentration they come back to you. Basically, you and your bros decided to go out for a drink, and you had let slip that you had never drunk actual liquor before.

Needless to say, you regretted it.

You remember pub crawling for quite a while, then finally settling down in this weird eastern-themed pub/hotel or something. The lady at the counter didn't look eastern - you think; still a little hazy. She was... Blonde? Something like that. She also had this weird, real ornate dress

Then, the next thing you remember is just before you were about to check in for the night, she said something a little weird.

"Have a good night's sleep, and don't forget; a dream is just a gateay to somewhere you haven't seen before~"

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First Thread: >>191170

[m+1] What 'interests you' exactly?
-[m+1] She's human.
--[m+1] A sennin, whatever that is.

------------

"My, didn't I just say~?"

"You evaded the question."

"Ohh~? Did I, now...?" She titters a bit.

You sigh. You're a bit bothered by how she's bothering you so much less than before. "Still, why are you, erm..." You blush a bit, remembering that this situation is a bit embarrassing.

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