Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long, but I did work on it every single day! There’s lore in the image, by the way. It’s not well done, but it doesn’t matter.

Light. Tickling. Arms. Legs. Hard. Back. Upright. Green. Brown. Trees. Forest.

You blink, then blink again. Why am I outside my lab? you think as you look around. Where are my defenses? Why does the foliage look different? Where am I?! Why the hell am I not in my lab?! You rack your brain for possible answers, but absolutely nothing comes to mind because there’s absolutely no possible way you could have gotten here without something going horribly wrong. All of your stasis tanks are in your lab, and your lab is secured inside and out by your seiðjárns and traps. If your system detected an intruder, the soul transfer would have been halted and reversed so that you could attend to the problem. No one could have possibly taken you from your lab after the procedure except one of your seiðjárns or…

Of course… Loki… This type of scheme was her forte, after all. Your hands clench, veins burning hot, and your nails begin to draw blood from your palms. “That… harlot!” you spit. Your arms fly up, each finger clenched into a hook. “That meddling WHORE!” Your mind goes through all the ways you’re going to make her pay, but you can’t imagine anything coming of it other than her impudent smile deepening. “Okay… No time for…” You stop. That’s… not right. You put a hand on your throat. “Testing, testing.” Your voice is not the low timbre of a male’s as it’s supposed to be, but that of a female’s. You look down at your body. You’re wearing a near-black shirt with an image you can’t decipher upside down, a skirt deliberately made of denim scraps, a red and black flannel tied around your waist, uncomfortable flat black and white shoes, a thick leather bracelet on your left wrist, and three thinner bracelets on your right. Your hair is long, cinnamon brown, and slightly wavy. Some of it cuts off your peripheral vision in your right eye. “THAT BITCH!” Your anger spikes and recedes once more before you begin pacing. I am not suffering yet another lifetime of menstrual cycles! “Fix this… How do I fix this…? Okay, first is to figure out where I am and how to get back to the lab.”

You rub your temples, trying to draw on what survival knowledge you might have when you hear the underbrush rustling. Turning toward the sound gives way to the sight of a large wolf stalking toward you and growling. “Brokkr,” you call, then point at the animal. “Dispose of this pest.” The familiar chirping of your master seiðjárn acknowledging your order does not come; only the continued growling of the animal. Looking around for the machine avails you nothing. Disappointing, but neither surprising nor overly concerning. Without your seiðjárn to delegate to, you take the matter into your own hands and reach out to the thaumaturgical energies, single out electricity, and command it to make this thing regret ever baring its fangs at you. Nothing happens. You look down at your hand, then up at the wolf. Dread starts to grip your heart. You reflexively take a step back.

A voice calls out, “Mastaaah… SPAAAAAHK!!!” then you’re blinded and deafened. When your senses have recovered enough, you see that the wolf and much of the forest are gone, replaced with a deep gouge in the earth. Your ears are still ringing, and your vision is still spotty when a girl jumps in front of you and starts speaking. You clench your eyes shut in hopes that your senses will return to acceptable levels sooner if you do. It’s likely the placebo effect, but it appears to work, as when you open them, you can see the girl much more clearly. She has an average build, is perhaps a little short, has orpiment-colored, almond-shaped eyes, long blonde hair with a braid on the left side of her face ending with a white bow, wears a white undershirt, a black skirt, a black vest, a white waist apron, and a black witch’s hat decorated with frills underneath the brim and a white ribbon tied in a bow around the base of the cone. She’s staring at you with a somewhat impatient look on her face. When you blink owlishly at her, she cocks her head and says something in a language you don’t speak. It’s been a while since you’ve heard it, but you believe it may be Hoshidan or Chon’sese.

You press down your mounting anxiety and say, “I’m… sorry; I didn’t catch that.”

The girl puts a hand on her chin and mutters something. You spy a broom in the crook of her elbow that she’s pretending to hang from for some reason. She slaps her chest and says, “My name is Kirisame Marisa! What is yours?” You blink at her again, trying to understand the words under her accent. She hums, then positions her broom between her legs. You don’t understand why until it clicks that she’s a witch. But the leaves on the trees are still green. You pray you haven’t gone back in time, too—no one casts anti-gravity spells on brooms anymore outside the harvest festivals. The girl slaps the open space behind her. “Come! I take you to… eto…” She puts her hands over her head in a triangular shape. “House! Many house! Safe!” She slaps the broom again. “Come, come!” Well! If this girl intends to take you to civilization, then who are you to say no? You sit down behind her, riding side saddle and gripping the broom with a satisfied smile. “No, no!” the girl admonishes you. Before you can ask her what’s wrong, she grabs your hands and pulls them around her waist. “Grip tight! Tight!” With that, she kicks off the ground, knocking you two up above the trees faster than expected to ascend. She then leans forward, dragging you along with her, and the broom rockets forward at dangerous speeds.

The trip is short, mercifully, but nothing resembling pleasant. Even landing is awful, as the girl tips the broom back, pretending it’s a violently-tempered stallion rather than an enchanted item she has complete control of. You eagerly fall from the broom and take a few steps on shaky legs before turning toward her, blood boiling. You point at her. “Don’t you ever… EVER!—do that again! Do you understand me?!”

She gestures at you to calm down, making your already high blood pressure rise even higher. Before you can truly start lashing out, however, she points to your left. “Look! Safe!” You turn and see the walls and open gate of a village, unmistakably Hoshidan in architecture and minuscule in growth. Has this kingdom really not made any progress? Actually, there are so many worlds that this one’s time is likely so vastly behind that they are still in the age of swords and spears. Regardless, you’re here now, you can get a map, find the gateway to Askr, and then you won’t have to worry about anything thanks to all their peace treaties. You start walking down the main road, but that girl grabs your wrist and starts dragging you along behind her. “We go to cane-eh. She help. Good English!” You’re rather surprised she’s still going to help you, but you could do without her brutish nature. You have a vague recognition of the word ‘English.’ It must be the language she’s speaking, but, of course, you know it as Askran. Well, for now, you’re content to just go along with this ride. After all, it’s much better than the last one.

Wait a minute. This girl looks more Nohrian than Hoshidan. The shape of her eyes is the only thing that indicates she has any Hoshidan blood at all. Perhaps, in this world, Hoshido assimilated Nohr after the war. Or maybe they opened their borders to each other. Well, it’s not like it matters.

She takes you to a structure whose unfamiliar architecture makes it difficult to ascertain its use, and slides open one of the wall panels. You don’t think you’ll ever understand the design philosophy of peoples with almond-shaped eyes. She calls out, “Cane-eh!” as she leads you down a corridor. She opens a screen, calling out again, then makes a surprised noise. Looking past her, you see what must be a classroom, judging by the children kneeling at small, low tables facing a woman who kneels at a larger low table facing them. The woman has an average build, long, straight, silver hair with some powder-blue strands, deep brown eyes, and wears a blue dress with white sleeves, frills, and a red ribbon hanging from the collar. Strangest of all, though, is what she has on her head: A piece of headwear that’s designed to look like what you can only guess is meant to be a temple with another red ribbon protruding from its apex, likely meant to represent the sun. Perhaps “design philosophy” was too strong a phrase. No, it must be something one places on their head to maintain good posture. Yes, that must be it.

The woman admonishes the girl, but she defends herself animatedly, first by raising her hands, then by shrugging, and finally by pointing her thumb over her shoulder at you. The woman looks past her, and the two of you make eye contact. She looks up at the wall above the door, then lowers her head and sighs before announcing something to the class. The students stand up and move toward you and the girl in a tidal wave of children eager to escape the tedium of lecture-based learning. Some run past you, but many crowd around you, trying to ask you questions until their teacher sends them on their way. You’re not sure what that was about; maybe it’s a small village and nothing interesting has happened as of late. Oh, right, you’re wearing weird clothes.

The teacher murmurs something and starts gathering up a handful of papers. She then stands up and says, in near-perfect Askran, “Hello. My name is Kamishirasawa Keine. Marisa here tells me you’re an outsider.”

You blink, wondering why she would use the word ‘outsider’ instead of ‘foreigner.’ “Uh, yes, I am. My name is…” Wait. You’re in a new body now, so you should be careful what you say. Fuck! You need a new name! You’re a woman again… What’s a common female name? “Phan… treis…”

“‘Phantreis?’ That’s a rather unique name.” It is? Fuck! “But it’s nice. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Phantreis.”

“L-likewise…”

“Follow me, and I’ll take you to my home.” You agree, and the three of you leave this building for a smaller one close by. Why the girl is coming along, you have no idea. You enter the house, and the woman instructs you to replace your shoes with a pair of slippers while inside. It’s a rather respectable idea to minimize dirt in the home. She sits you down at a low table with cushions instead of chairs while she goes to prepare tea. You glance at the girl, and she gives you a wide smile that you don’t mirror. When Ms. Keine returns, she sets down a kettle and three cups (without handles for some reason), pours tea for each of you, and sits down at her spot. Your eyes scan the table for cream but find none. You find that it’s not the type of tea you are used to, however, when you look down at your cup, so you let the matter go, intending to sample the beverage by itself first. You carefully press your hand against the cup and find that it is not as hot as you expect. You should have known; this type of teacup is much thicker in make than yours. You blow on the steaming beverage before pressing the cup to your lips. The taste is much more subtle than black tea, but not at all unpalatable. Acceptable.

“Allow me to introduce myself properly,” the woman says. “I am Kamishirasawa Keine, the history teacher at the Hieda Temple School. I also act as the Human Village’s guardian in times of crisis and caretaker of outsiders like you who find themselves in this land of Gensokyo, a place where fantastical creatures are just as real as you and I.” You blink, unsure of what to make of that last part. “I know this may seem very confusing, so allow me to explain. Since before history was even first recorded, creatures called youkai roamed Japan freely, hunting humans to menace, kill, or eat. So the humans begged the gods for help, and the gods provided them with the knowledge and tools to fight back against the youkai. Soon, the conflict became a close stalemate in which only particularly strong or foolish youkai would attack humans, and the humans, of course, would exterminate said youkai. While at peace, the humans increased their knowledge and understanding of the world and began to lose their fear of the youkai and their faith in the gods, even going so far as to explain them away as non-existent through science.

“In the 15th century, however, someone who did not want to see the gods and the youkai go extinct began laying the groundwork for a sanctuary where they could continue to live. It was comprised of three groups: The youkai, the gods, and the humans, each playing an important role in maintaining the sanctuary, now known as Gensokyo. The youkai’s job was, of course, to threaten the lives of the humans; the gods’ job was to protect the humans and help them fight back against the youkai; and the humans had the most important job of all: Fearing the youkai and worshipping the gods. Only through this delicate balance could the youkai and the gods be preserved.

“Eventually, in the 18th century, a barrier was erected around Gensokyo by the gods, most importantly the Hakurei god of barriers and sealing, with help from their priests. Thanks to this barrier, Gensokyo remains hidden, ensuring that the Outside World can’t threaten the youkai and gods by once again using science to explain them away. This barrier was and still is known as the Great Hakurei Barrier. The day it was completed marks the first day of the Gensokyo calendar and is still maintained by the priests and priestesses of the Hakurei Shrine.

“Today, however, the barrier has weakened enough that some things slip through, such as technology and people like yourself. We call these people outsiders. It’s not a term of disrespect, merely a label to quickly say that someone might not understand how things work here in Gensokyo. Don’t worry, though; just because you’ve found yourself here doesn’t mean you can’t get out. The priests and priestesses of the Hakurei Shrine have the ability to open the barrier enough to let you out. Or, if you’d like to stay, I can help you make a life here.”

You blink owlishly at her. Is this woman insane? Even if anything she said was true, from her tale, it’s clear that the era of youkai and gods was over, just as it had been so long ago in your world. If only Loki had gone with them. Wait a minute… You’ve heard this story before… Suddenly, you realize why the word ‘Gensokyo’ sounds somewhat familiar: Gensokyo is the name of Loki’s pet project. You curse internally. If you had paid more attention to her droning at you while you were working, you might already know some things about this place. The only things you know about it are that she used the words ‘incidents,’ ‘fairies,’ and ‘danmaku’ while she spoke of it.

“I know it’s a lot to take in; please, take as much time as you need to process it.”

You nod absentmindedly. Anxiety creeps up your spine. Not only are you in a foreign world, but you’re in a world of Loki’s designs. Absolutely nothing good can come of that. No, there’s no need to panic yet; not every one of Loki’s experiments involves her tearing the world apart or combining it with another. Ah. You’re the test subject. You put your face in your hands, and the woman rubs your back and says in a voice intended to be soothing, “Hey, it’s okay; I’m sure everything will be just fine. I’ll do everything I can to help you, whatever you decide to do.” You’re not going to cry; you want to break something. Every bone in Loki’s body. …Yes, that’s what you’ll do.

You push yourself up and begin pacing back and forth, going over what you know: Loki tampered with your soul transfer, putting you in the wrong body, then left you here in her pet project world, with which you are wholly unfamiliar. Brokkr is nowhere to be found, and when you tried to use magic, it failed you. You don’t speak the local language, and assuming it’s at least close to Hoshidan, it’s been a long time since you’ve studied its written form, either. Ms. Keine is willing to aid you as best she can, but you don’t know how much aid that means.

Your main goal is to get back to familiar territory, return to your lab, and make Loki pay. To achieve that, you need to find a gateway. If you’re unable to find one quickly, you’ll likely need to learn the language and figure out how to make magic respond to you again.

Likely possibilities include being stuck here for an extended period of time, being completely magicless, and being unable to leave.

You turn to Ms. Keine, opening your mouth to speak, but before you do, you remember that you’re in a new body. You need to be careful with your choice of words, lest you reveal things you’d rather keep hidden. “Is… Do you… have a map?”

The woman nods. “Certainly; let me get it for you.” She stands up and once again leaves you with the girl. You have absolutely no idea what she’s still doing here; she had been playing with her cup during that entire explanation, and now she looks like she’s anticipating something. Ms. Keine returns with three large, rolled-up papers. She lays them on the table, then spreads one open. It looks to be a topographical map of what is likely the current region. “I’m afraid this is the best one I have of Gensokyo, but it’s very old; the youkai make it very difficult to make a new one, and the tengu, who do still make paper maps from time to time, are very secretive of theirs.” You can only read the numbers on the map, but Ms. Keine is ready to guide you to understanding. She points to the map’s center, an area at the median elevation. “This is where the Human Village is,” she points to an eastern point on a large hill or small mountain, “and this is where the Hakurei shrine is. It’s a… thirty-minute walk, I believe?”

The girl points to various spots and says things like ‘Forest of Magicu,’ ‘Scarleto Devil Mansion,’ and ‘Youkai Mountain.’”

Ignoring her, you nod thoughtfully. “I see. And what are those other maps?”

Ms. Keine spreads out the next one, revealing an archipelago. “This is a map of Japan, where Gensokyo is. Once again, however, it’s outdated. All three of these are.” The scale tells you that islands make up an area that creates a country that is somewhat smaller than the countries with which you’re familiar. “Gensokyo is around here, between Nagano and Yamanashi prefectures,” she says, pointing to the near-direct center of the archipelago. “And for the sake of completion, here is the map of the world that I have.” Yes, you’re certainly not in any world you’ve ever known. According to the printed date, the world was likely in a time between eras—many countries still had colonies, but few were labeled as empires. In fact, there was a large one called ‘United States’ which, based on the name, you guessed was using the farcical system of voting the state leader into power.

While you’re distracted analyzing the map, Ms. Keine asks, “So, where are you from?”

The girl blurts out, “United Stateso!”

“Huh? Oh, uh…” You return your attention to the map, searching for any place with a familiar-feeling name. Eventually, you do: The word ‘Reykjavík.’ You point to it. “H-here.”

Ms. Keine turns her head to get a better look. “Iceland? My, you are far from home.” You find Japan and believe you may have made the wrong choice.

“So I’m… stuck here… then.”

She once again tries to soothe you. “It will be alright. As I said before, I’ll do my best to help you get home if that’s what you choose to do, though I’m afraid I can only take you to the shrine and provide you with some traveling money. I still have a duty to the village, after all.”

You nod absentmindedly as you plan how you’ll find the gateway. Finding it would be exactly like… what did the peasants say…? ‘Finding a thread in a hay pile?’ Regardless, it would be a nigh impossible task. Your best chances would be to find a grand library and scour it for a lead. Or, if you were lucky, this world may have already invented a terminal-accessible interconnected information database that held what you needed. However…

Every time Loki pulled the Great Hero or one of his bloodline from their world and placed them in another, it was always in or on the border of the epicenter of the events she desired to see them suffer. Not to mention, there was a chance, no matter the size, that the gateway was closer than you thought.

[] Leave. Knowledge is an invaluable asset, and you won’t find it here in this backwater.
[] Stay. You won’t know if you don’t look. The gateway could be right behind you, for all you know.

It is 7:29 PM CST. Voting closes in 24 hours.

[X] Stay

You take a deep breath as you massage your temples. Silently cursing Loki reminds you to be angry at her, but your anger reminds you not to play into her hands, which reminds you not to go along with this charade. “I… would like to leave. Immediately.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t—”

“Now. Please. …It’s… important to me.”

“Are you sure? You don’t speak any Japanese, and your home is—”

“I’ll manage. I speak… English. Surely others like yourself can help me.”

Keine nods, a small and conflicted smile on her face. “Alright. Come with me, then.” She stands up and leads you out of her home. The girl who brought you to her home follows beside you, but you can swallow down your distaste for her. “I’ll take you to the Hakurei shrine, then Reimu will open the barrier enough for you to pass through. After that, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to help you.” You tell her you understand, then Keine offers to teach you some simple phrases that will help. She leads you past fields of grain, through a wooded trail, and up into the mountains. By the time you’ve reached the top of the steps, you’ve learned how to ask for help, say you don’t speak Japanese, and other useful sentences, along with expected responses.

You pass under a red wooden gateway, and the possibility of it connecting to Midgard crosses your mind. You shake your head and think, No, much too small. Not to mention that the gateways of Zenith look nothing like this one. As you were staring at it, Keine and the girl had already moved to speak with another girl in red and white in front of the main building. She walks away toward a storage shed with the black and white girl in tow as Keine drops something—likely money—into a box, then rings a bell. She proceeds to bow twice, claps twice, keeps her hands together for a while, then bows again. When you reach her, you have to stop yourself before you accidentally ask for a progress report. “Is everything… alright?”

“Of course. Reimu and Marisa are getting the materials to begin the ritual.” You nod, having forgotten ancient peoples’ need for ceremony. “You should pray to the gods for safe travels and fortune with me.”

The mention of the gods makes your skin crawl. “Sorry, but no.”

“It’s important to show gratitude to those who aid you. Even if they don’t help you, they’re less likely to hinder you.”

You force a tight smile just to prevent yourself from scowling. “I’m… an atheist. …I don’t feel comfortable… praying to gods.”

“Oh. I understand; I won’t make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” Keine says with a sad look in her eyes. One that makes you want to tell her that her gods are dead, if they ever existed. You walk away to take some deep breaths, and the other girls return and begin preparing their ritual. It’s just a bunch of ridiculous stick waving and chanting at the trees and bushes touching the grass, but there’s no reason to argue.

Your eyes widen, however, when the air in front of the red-and-white girl starts moving and catching the light exactly like a soap bubble. You approach the shimmering air and observe owlishly. When you reach a hand out for closer study, Keine grabs your hand and says not to disturb anything. Eventually the shimmering air starts to slowly open up like a disturbed wound. When the woman informs you that you’re permitted to leave, you begin proper study of the visible magic. You reach out again, and your hand passes through the multi-colored miasma without resistance. There’s no perceptible difference between the normal air and the magic that you can tell. You step beneath the arch of magic to see how deep this miasma extends, but as you do, the opening begins to close. By the human body’s natural instinct to avoid danger, you stumble out of the way and crash into one of the walls of Keine’s sitting room, hitting your head. The woman herself stands up from her place at the table and asks, “Are you alright?!” as she rushes over to check on you.

You look up at her, then around the room. “Wh-what…?!” you mutter under your breath. Your mind races, What just happened?! Why am I back here?! Did time—?! …Loki… Knowing now that none of this is real, you get up, push her away, and start for the front door. The illusion of Keine tries to stop you, but you resist her strength and ignore her words. The false world doesn’t disappear when you open the door, but lasts well after you follow the trail back to the shrine. You climb the steps for what must be five minutes longer than your previous trek when you realize that, once again, Loki is playing a trick on you, making the steps appear to repeat as you climb them. You hurry your steps, frustrated with the goddess’s meddling and the fact that you don’t know how to counter this trap. Your foot misses a step, and you fall face-first onto a mat of dried grass, yet again in the illusion of Keine’s home.

“Are you alright?!” you hear from the mouth of the fake woman. Ignoring it, you push yourself up and take a path through the underbrush directly toward the shrine rather than the winding path. You’re relieved to reach the peak, but the victory is somewhat hollow as you find a different shrine in place of the old one. This one is dilapidated, made now of rotten boards, torn paper, and cracked stone. It’s impossible that anyone has inhabited the building for years now. You look back the way you came out of human instinct. In the distance, where a village should be, sits nothing but forest reaching even up into the altitudes where trees can no longer grow on mountains. You don’t know if this is now reality or yet more illusion, but you can’t care. You continue walking. You have no destination, only moving toward the sun as you try to listen for the sound of a stream or river. The sun is touching the horizon when you finally make it out of the forest. You find a roadway and start traveling downward, each step now hurting more than the last. You hear a strange, faint sound behind you. Two lights shine in the distance, growing in size. In your exhausted state, you can’t even recognize that it’s a vehicle with a direct trajectory toward your body. When your sense of danger spurs you into action, it’s too late. You swear, though, that the person driving the vehicle was Loki.

Head. Pain. Orbitoclast. Hydraulic hammer. You clutch your scalp and clench your eyes, groaning in agony. Every sensation is excruciating to your brain, and the most palatable feeling you have is a dry mouth. You growl out, “Loki…” and attempt to push yourself up. It’s too much, and the pain in your skull intensifies. Prying one of your eyes open, you find that you’re back in that damnable house. As much as it pains you, this is where you must admit defeat. You close your eyes, drape an arm over your face, and give a long-suffering sigh. I built civilization from nothing. My intellect is infinite, and my ambition unending. The gods themselves praised and envied me. I even outlived them. So why am I here? What exactly does Loki want with me? After the Great Hero’s bloodline ended, wasn’t she done with tormenting mortals? No, of course not; a snake sheds its skin, not its nature! How could I have been such a fool?! you think as you bolt upright. A particularly sharp pain forces you to clutch your head. It’s not just pain from an imagined hangover; it stings too much to be that. No, it’s a message that translates to ‘no more defiance. Entertain me.’

You hear something slide across the floor and a woman sigh. “I knew I should’ve gone after you two…” It’s Keine, of course. “I’ll get you some medicine.” When she returns, you gratefully accept everything she gives you: A bowl of rice, a plate of eggs, a cup of water, and a measurement of a white powder sitting on a square of paper. Once you’ve consumed everything, the pain disappears. Or rather, Loki stopped making you think you were in pain.

“What happened?” you groan. Looking down at yourself, you find that you’re wearing something akin to a white bathrobe and lying on an equally white thing similar to a duvet while a blanket covers you in its stead.

Keine explains, “After you said you’d stay, Marisa dragged you out of the house to show you her favorite places, saying, ‘I’ll be borrowing her for a while.’ I was sure you’d at least be back around nightfall, but then, at what must have been two in the morning, she dropped you off here for me to take care of. You were barely awake and drunk, covered in… Well, I won’t say, but I got you out of your clothes, into the bath, and into bed. I’m guessing Suika used you as an excuse to throw a party at the shrine.” She sighs, “Those people… I’m not upset with you, but I hope you know now the importance of not giving in to peer pressure. Children your age shouldn’t be drinking alcohol.”

You sigh and rub your eyes; you would never be that kind of fool. “Yes, thank you. Do you have any coffee?”

“Children your age shouldn’t be drinking coffee, either. I have black tea, though; I’ll make you some of that.”

“Yes. Fine,” you say as the woman leaves. That seals it. If Loki went so far as to manipulate her memories, then she wants me here specifically. She must know that won’t stop me from trying to get revenge, though. You push yourself out of the upside-down, mattress-less bed to go search for Keine. You find her in the kitchen watching the kettle and clear your throat to get her attention.

The woman startles and turns toward you. “Oh! I thought you might stay in bed for a while longer.”

“I’d much rather be active right now. And if you’re worried about my head and motor functions, don’t be; your medicine was highly effective.”

Her brows furrow. “‘Motor…?’ Uh, alright. Just be careful.”

You give a curt nod and say dismissively, “I appreciate your concern.”

Keine cocks her head. “You seem a lot more grown-up this morning than you did last night. Last night you were shy, but now you’re talking like… like Eirin Yagokoro, I suppose. She’s a friend of mine, a doctor.”

Your eyes widen in horrified realization, then you look away. “That’s… Uh… I… read a lot…”

You can hear Keine’s smile as she says, “That’s good! I’ve heard not many children do these days. And there’s no need to be ashamed; you’re still a normal girl like everyone else.”

“Right, th-thank you… I’m… going to go sit down now…” Keine lets you leave and, shortly after, yelps at the whistle of the kettle. It’s a pleasant sound ruined by Loki once again making you perceive pain.

The woman enters and sets down the tea tray. The cups are the same thick, handleless ones, and there’s once again no cream, but that’s fine. You savor the warm beverage, and for once since coming here, you smile earnestly, enjoying as much of the little comfort as you can under the circumstances. The woman opposite you returns your expression. “I’m glad you like it.” She takes a sip from her own cup and cringes at the bitterness. “I forgot how strong black tea is…”

“Cream helps. And it’s rather common to serve something sweet to cleanse the palate, too.”

“That makes sense. Unfortunately, I don’t have either of those.”

You hum. “A shame.” By now, you’ve decided on giving up the shy act, for the most part.

“I hope you’ll excuse me if I don’t drink any more,” she says as she sets down the cup. “So. About teaching you Japanese. I’m afraid teaching history at the temple school will make it difficult, but I’ll make time for it when classes are done for the day.”

“How long will that be?”

“About four hours, maybe a little more some days.” She points to a clock on the wall. You’re shocked you didn’t notice its ticking before. “My first class starts at nine, and my last one ends at one.” She stands up. “I have some study materials for you if you’d like a primer, but there are some novels and games if you get bored.” She points to a shelving unit and then leaves. You content yourself with your tea until she returns and lays a stack of books on the table. Two of them are large, thick ones about learning Japanese, and the third is a smaller, but no less thick, book of simple phrases that a traveler might need in a pinch. Between the two types of books is an empty notebook with two pens resting on top. “Here we go. I’m afraid I have to leave now, but we can start when I get back.” You thank her and let her go before you start digging into the books.

You read and take notes, simultaneously memorizing the lessons and making your own improved versions. You only look up when you hear the front door slide open again, but, looking at the clock, it’s only 9:58. Heavy footsteps thud down the hall, and the blonde girl who carried you here sticks her head in, smiling brightly. She lets out a rowdy, “Helloooo!” and you give her a terse greeting in return as she sits down at the table. Your eyes flick to her with contempt as she picks up her whole body to read your notes as you’re writing them. “Ahhhh, Japanese!” The pest leans back and gives you a wide smile. “I am good at that!”

You give her a hard stare and say, “I’m sure you are.”

She grabs the translation book and starts thumbing through it. “How was last night?”

“It was fine,” you say, not looking up from your self-study.

She nods. “Good. Keine can be…” she trails off, then you hear overexaggerated snoring. You look up and see that she’s pretending to sleep. She then ‘wakes back up’ and gestures at you to find the word for her.

“Boring?” She nods excitedly. You grunt and return your focus to your self-study, but then you pause as you analyze her words. Is she implying that she believes I stayed here last night instead of going with her? Then, if she speaks with Keine, they’d find that their memories aren’t in sync. Why wouldn’t Loki keep them aligned? For the sake of chaos, I suppose. You shrug. It doesn’t matter; they can’t call you the liar over it.

The pest watches you take notes for a while longer before reaching over and tapping your papers. “I can help.”

“You?” She nods. You’re about to tell her no when you realize that learning from a native speaker would be more efficient, even if it is this girl. “Alright. Fine.”

She smiles before getting up and moving to the shelves containing the entertaining pastimes. She returns with a colorful box and holds it up for you to see. “We play.” You stare at her like she’s gone insane, then read the text on the box: ‘Candy Land game,’ ‘a sweet little game for sweet little folks.’

You scan her face for any sign that she’s messing with you. It’s impossible to tell. “…Are you fucking serious?”

She throws her head back and lets out an overly amused laugh. “Yes! Very fucking serious!” She then takes your study materials and drops them on the floor with all the care of a mother with an unwanted child. Before you can make sure the books and pages are alright, she makes you pick out your playing piece. You hastily grab the green one, then reorganize your study materials and move them a safe distance away. After that, the thug pulls a green card from the top of the deck and shows it to you. “Midori,” she says. She then moves her yellow piece to the first green tile and taps it twice. “Midori.”

You slowly close your eyes, let out a long, suffering sigh, and say as calmly as you can, “Yes. Midori. Midori means green. Grass is midori. Leaves are midori. Because midori means green.”

You spend the next three hours playing board games, and you have to admit that you’ve learned a lot more from the girl than you thought was possible. Her ‘lessons’ are disorganized and off the cuff, but admittedly useful. It’s a bit shameful to think that you were learning colors, numbers, and other things like a child, but it’s… It has its benefits. When Keine returns, you can’t help but flush with embarrassment. The disastrous mess of colorful cards, boards, and puzzle pieces adds to the shame, but the woman smiles. “I’m glad you two have been getting along!” She then says something to Marisa, and you catch the word ‘food’ in the girl’s reply. Keine gives her a slightly scolding look and speaks as she points to the scattered items, likely an order to fix her mess.

Marisa groans and turns to you as the woman leaves. “Keine says we clean.” You nod and start packing things away. It’s undeniably annoying that she didn’t let you do this when you were done playing the games, instead dragging you away from the task as she laid out the next game, but you’re getting it done now. You frown at the abused resealable bags that once held dice and player pieces, now unsalvageable thanks to the brute’s reckless behavior. Once the current game is packed away neatly, you move on to the next one, but seeing her try to fit a cover onto an overstuffed box stops you.

“What the hell are you doing?!” When she waves you off, you snap. Your hands seize her throat, and the back of her head hits the floor.

You hear a gasp and the words, “Stop this!” before Keine pries your fingers away with surprising strength. You struggle in her grapple as the worm escapes, coughing and wheezing. “Are you alright, Marisa?” It nods, and its chuckling makes you struggle harder. Your captor orders you, “Phantreis. Stop.” Eventually you manage to calm down, and she says, “Can you tell me why you attacked Marisa?”

You strangle out, “She was overfilling one of the boxes with the incorrect items.”

“So you thought it was appropriate to attack her?!”

“I thought it was necessary to teach her to complete tasks correctly.”

Keine shakes her head. “Violence is never the answer!” She speaks with Marisa, then shakes her head again. More conversation follows until she says, “She wants to have a spellcard duel with you.”

[] “A chance to put this insect in her place officially? I accept.”
- [] “If I win, I want her to stay away from me.”
- [] “If I win, I want her to clean up her mess and leave peacefully.”
- [] “If I win, I want her belongings.”

[] “I cannot tolerate this girl’s presence any longer. I’m leaving.”
- [] Head north toward the mountain
- [] Head west toward the manse
- [] Head south toward the sunflower field

It is 9:30 CST. Voting closes in 24 hours.

[X] “A chance to put this insect in her place officially? I accept.”
- [X] “If I win, I want her belongings.”

A wicked grin spreads across your face. “She wants a duel, hmmmm? Well… Who am I to say no?”

Keine says, “Spell card duels aren’t like whatever you’re imagining, so I suggest you stop thinking like that. They’re about beauty and skill, not hurting each other.”

“Yes, of course,” you reply, not paying attention. Accidents happen, don’t they?

The woman continues, “I will officiate this duel so no one gets hurt. …But…” She lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t think you should be doing this. I don’t think she should be challenging you! It’s…” She stops unable to find the words.

You interrupt her before she can continue. “You needn’t express your opinion on the matter. I accept the challenge, and that’s final.”

Her face twists as her thoughts remain trapped between her mind and her throat until she capitulates. “Alright. Let’s get you changed into some more appropriate clothes first. I apologize for leaving you in that yukata.”

You wave her off. “It’s fine. I doubt I’ll find a wardrobe suitable to my tastes for a while.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have left you in what’s essentially nightwear all day.” You don’t protest as she leads you deeper into her house and to the hallway closet. She flips through some items on hangers and pulls out a brown piece of clothing similar to the one you’re already wearing. “Here, this should do.” You silently question the difference as you try to get it on you. You’re grateful for Keine’s help, though you don’t admit it to her. “There. Now I just need to grab the first aid kit, then we’ll go find a suitable place for the duel.” You give an annoyed sniff as you make your way to the front of the house. The pest is nowhere to be found, oddly. You’re not sure if you should be grateful it’s gone or upset that you can’t punish it, assuming it fled. It would be the first intelligent thing its done so far. Keine catches up to you and leads you outside. You find that it didn’t flee as it hovers down beside you, pointing somewhere over the walls. You silently beg that you won’t have to get back on that broom now or ever again. You’re grateful to hear Keine say, “Marisa says she found a good place. Follow me.” She leads you to a flat, nondescript stretch of road wide enough for two vehicles to pass each other—an acceptable impromptu arena. She then turns to you and says, “Phantreis, I know you’re angry, but I really think you should reconsider. Not to mention that whatever underlying issues you have won’t be solved by this. I think you need professional psychiatric help.”

She wants me to get therapy? From where? And what makes her think there’s something wrong with me? You give her a false smile. “I appreciate your concern, but I feel that it would be unspeakably rude to both of you if I declined now.”

The woman presses a hand to her forehead and sighs. “If that’s how you feel, then… alright.” She holds a finger up and begins both a lesson and a lecture. “Listen, as I said earlier, spell card duels aren’t about defeating your opponent. They’re about beauty and fair play. Self-expression and showing off, but not hurting anyone. Do you remember how I told you that Gensokyo is a sanctuary for youkai and gods? Well, it wouldn’t function if the humans were killed, so the spell card system of dueling was created. It allows humans to fight off youkai by themselves when they need to and youkai to fight off the shrine maiden.” You note the contradiction between her current explanation of how humanity is kept alive and the one from her history lesson, another piece of evidence supporting this woman’s insanity and/or other theories.

Mostly, however, you’re just formulating the most excruciating and deadly way to erase the vermin drawing in the dirt. Keine pulls out a small white iridescent piece of paper and continues her explanation. “This is a blank spell card. By channeling thoughts, emotions, and other things like that into it, you can create your own spell card for dueling. Once you’ve done that, all you need to do is call out its name, and the card will activate, shooting out the pattern inscribed on it. This one is reusable—once it’s been used, it will revert back to a blank card. A rental card, you could say, for fresh outsiders who don’t yet have their own cards. Spell cards can vary in power, depending on how much they’re designed to hold. This one is a level one card.” She holds it for you, and you take it just to satisfy her. “Now, hold it against your head and think about something you like. Something you find beautiful or inspiring or wondrous.”

The idiocy of this moment only faintly crosses your mind as you pretend to do as she instructs. Your mind is focused on the thing crouched in the dirt. Lightning to destroy her nerves and heat to boil her from the inside… Perhaps… Yes… Superheated plasma… Your disciplinary action would be so much sweeter if you had your multi-energy focus canon, but you can accept going without here. You close your eyes and recall the process you need to perform to rid the thing of life: Reach out for and focus on the magical energies, single out electricity, charge the air around her, release. Though… You close your eyes and start step one of the process. You feel nothing.

Before you can start to question it, Keine continues. “Spell card duels are more often than not accompanied by wagers—mostly for things like items, favors, and even apologies. I imagine that’s what you want from her? And for her to clean up after herself?”

You’re about to say yes until you remember that brats like her never learn unless their punishment hurts. What am I thinking, killing this girl? That won’t bring nearly as much satisfaction! Let’s see if she can maintain her devil-may-care attitude while walking home with nothing to hide her shame. “Her possessions.”

“Pardon?”

“I want everything she owns.”

The woman stammers for a while then sighs. She speaks to the pest, who laughs before speaking back. “She accepts your terms. And if she wins, she wants to be your personal Japanese teacher.”

Your teeth grind at the thought, but you nod. “I accept.” It’s impossible that I’ve lost access to magic—just another illusion. “Are we ready then?”

“Almost,” Keine tells you before she speaks with the brat once again. “Marisa says you have full control over the rules, but I only have that one spell card right now, so it will be one card per person. Do you want to take turns or declare your card at the same time?”

“Sure. Can we start now?”

“Fine. Remember, to activate your spell card, you have to declare it by calling out its name.” The woman steps back, and the irritant gets into position. She grins, and you snear. “When I say ‘go,’ each of you will declare her spell card. Whoever gets hit the most loses.” Keine looks between you two. “Go!”

You mentally recite the incantations to draw forth the magical energies, single out magnetic energy, and manipulate the vermin’s naturally generated magnetic field. The goal is simple: Increase it until she’s hovering in the air, her body is beginning to be torn in two, and she is begging for mercy. Every word—every syllable—is perfectly delivered in your mind, and you even throw your arm out to guarantee that the magic reaches its target.

At the same time, she throws her arm up, extending her index finger as high as it will go, and yells, “Stah sign: Newbohn Garaxy!” Once the words have left her lips, a small ball of light glows at the tip of her finger and starts launching white five-pointed stars at random velocities in a half-sphere centered on you. Nothing, however, happens to her body. You try casting your spell again, but a particularly fast star grazing your face interrupts your concentration. You flinch into another star, and your mind begins to short-circuit. You dodge in a new direction and get by another star. You try again and achieve similar results. You throw yourself into the ground and get hit again. You curl up into the fetal position and get hit by a few more stars until the barrage stops. Your mind is a whirlwind of what went wrong, why, whose fault it is, who needs to be punished, and how they will be punished.

You hear the dirt crunch underneath the two inferiors. You look up at them through your tears—ones caused by pain, not the shame of defeat—and start to push yourself up. You throw an accusatory finger at the worm and exclaim, “You—! You—! What was that?! That was an underhanded trick!”

Keine shakes her head. “There weren’t any tricks in her spell card, Phantreis. In fact, it’s one of the more fair spell cards in Gensokyo.”

“But—! But—!”

You smirk and bite down on your fist to stop yourself from laughing as you watch Eitri try to explain that the Kirisame girl was ‘cheating.’ When you catch a shimmering in her eyes, you can no longer fight back the raucous laughter that wells up within you. You were right; the form of a child suits her much better than that of an adult male.

“I’VE HAD IT WITH YOU!” you hear. Eitri quite literally puts her foot down. “I’M NOT PUTTING UP WITH THIS HUMILIATION ANY FURTHER! I’M LEAVING!” Your laughter starts to die down as you realize your toy is going off-script.

Oh dear… you think. It seems I’ve made quite a mess…

[] I should stop her before she gets herself killed. Though, she’s hardly going to comply. Oh well, I’ll just wrap her up in chains and make her sit still.
[] I was hoping this would be a tale of rebuilding oneself from nothing, but if she wants to get savaged by wild animals, I guess that’s fine…

It is 8:29 PM CST. Voting will be closed at 8:29 PM CST on August 30th, 2026.

Author’s Note: This chapter was actually going to be twice this length, but my betas said the second part sucked and gave you guys no agency. Once I finally became not dumb, I realized that one of them said to end the chapter like this. Was the sub-vote a lie, then? Yes. It was. Though I did initially want Marisa’s half of the wager to be the mirror of your choice, but obviously Eitri didn’t have anything. Now if only I knew Japanese…

[X] I was hoping this would be a tale of rebuilding oneself from nothing, but if she wants to get savaged by wild animals, I guess that’s fine…

Roughly fourteen percent of soul transfers bear flaws in one way or another. Roughly eighty-three percent of those flaws are an incomplete synchronization between the soul and the new body. Roughly twenty-eight percent of those incomplete synchronizations result in emotions presenting themselves in ways that the soul bearer did not present in the original body. That is the reason you’re crying right now.

You storm away in a furious dash, wiping at your face with your sleeves. That woman calls out to you as she gives chase. You stop only to pick up a rock and throw it her way. It passes by her seventy-three centimeters away from its intended target, but the message is clear. You keep running until your lungs burn. You fall to the ground, supported by your hands and knees as you force the remaining saline water out of your lacrimal glands. Once that’s done, you force yourself to take deep breaths until you are once again capable of rational thought. You look around and find yourself once again in a forest. Thankfully, or regrettably, it is completely foreign to you. You once again swear off trusting others for anything as you push yourself up.

When tribes became kingdoms, you were there. When the gods taught man magic, you were the first to master it. When humanity ventured into the stars, it was thanks to you that they could even try. With good fortune, you could have a black powder flintlock pistol by the end of the week.

You start scanning the ground for stones when the sound of laughter interrupts you. It’s not just the laughter of a group of men spending time in the middle of the woods but that of children who know nothing of strife. Before you can decide whether or not to investigate the source, a small figure the size of a screwdriver flies out from behind a tree, followed by another, slightly smaller one. The first wore a blue dress and had blonde hair. The second had a green dress and brown hair. Both had translucent sets of wings sprouting from their backs. You blink. They are, for lack of a better word, fairies. It’s impossible, though. You check to make sure you’re not dreaming before you realize that this is just another one of Loki’s illusions. Why she sent fairies, you can’t understand, but you’re sure it’s just to distract you. You resume your search as one of them makes a surprised sound. A larger fairy tugs your sleeve; unlike the last two, which had adult proportions, this one has the body of a child. You’re soon swarmed by the mirages, all in various different sizes, proportions, dresses, and hair colors, pulling you away from your task and into the foliage. Despite your ability to swat many of them away, their combined effort results in success for them as you’re dragged toward a clearing. Though you can’t understand Japanese, you believe that some of them are speaking at a child’s level as they ramble at you. A majority of them split off to meander through the air or spin around on the ground. Two of the larger ones grab each of your hands and each other’s and begin spinning around in a circle, forcing you to spin along with them. Eventually, they let go, falling down and laughing happily. You attempt to leave the illusions behind, but you’re foiled by yet more of them. Hours pass this way, whether through play, decorating you with flora, or trying to communicate in their childish babble, wasting your time. You don’t know when the group had begun to disperse, but now even the last of the fairies are waving you goodbye. You remove the flowers from your hair as they depart, then realize how much of your time they consumed. Checking the sky, you see that night will fall in fewer hours than you require.

You once again start scanning the ground for stones. Eventually you find some. You take the rocks and smash them together until you have a sharp enough shard. Using the two-centimeter makeshift blade, you cut some longer blades of grass and set them in the sun to dry for kindling later. You do the same with more grass, then twist the flora into rope to make snare traps. You deploy the traps in the middle of openings in the underbrush where game animals have made paths through repeated travel. After that, you gather fallen branches and return them to where you left the drying grass. You pick up the chipped-away stones again, examining them for viability as an axe head. Determining that it’s possible to do so, you once again start smashing them together. One unfortunate strike, however, renders the stone you’re working on unusable. You check the sky for the time and find that you can’t take the chance to continue this project lest you’re left stumbling in the dark. Instead, you go to check your traps. One has a rabbit. You break its neck, then remove it from the trap. When you return to the clearing, you start a fire and prepare to harvest the animal. Just in time, as night falls around you. Rabbits are oddly easy to field dress. By grabbing underneath the forepaws and squeezing downward, the internal organs simply fall out of the anus. From there—

Bile rises in your throat when the intestines hit the ground.

From there—

You take a few deep breaths, praying you don’t throw up. After a while, you feel well enough to continue. Now you just need to peel the skin away from the body and rip the head off. You stare at the corpse in your hand. You were not made for this task. But needs must. You follow through with the work, and thankfully it’s a lot easier on the stomach. That doesn’t mean it’s any more pleasant, though; a scalpel and gloves make the process of opening an animal a lot more palatable. Your hands are now covered in blood. Soiled. But the animal was dirty. The rocks and sticks were dirty, too. Needs must. You wipe the blood on your clothes and lay the rabbit in the grass next to the fire to cook as you mentally go over the things you wish had gone better. When the memory of those two villagers arises, you attempt to force it from your mind. You look at your prey, checking to see if it’s ready to be turned over. As you do, you tense up. You don’t so much as see it but sense it: Something just beyond your fire’s glow is staring at you. You can’t be certain, but your mind must be playing a trick on you. As you stare at the figure, a small humanoid shape of perfect darkness, you attempt to rationalize it. The most likely possibility is that it’s merely one of Loki’s illusions, of course, but something of this nature does not match her usual tricks. The next most likely possibility would be that it’s a tree, perhaps rotted down to a smaller size, but the fact that it’s darker than the blackness that surrounds it makes you unable to accept that explanation. The third possibility is that it’s a statue that you hadn’t noticed until now, but why there would be a statue in the middle of the woods is beyond you, and it still doesn’t explain the unnatural blackness of it. It can’t be an animal, as it would have run away, more fearful of you than you are of it, and if it was desperately hungry enough to attack, it likely would have done so by now. If it’s a territorial animal, it would have made its presence known, trying to scare you off. Though if it has a greater intelligence than normal, that could explain why it’s stalking you from a perfectly still position. Though it still doesn’t explain the darkness.

The pressure gets to you, and you call out, “Hello…?” with a wavering voice. The darkness, of course, does not respond. It’s an illusion caused by stress and the natural human instinct to be extra vigilant when visibility is reduced to only a few meters. You turn over your rabbit and attempt to ignore the figure. You can’t stop yourself from casting nervous glances at it, however, while you wait for your meal to cook. To ensure the death of any parasites, you let the meat reach the cusp of blackening before you eat. You stare at it, waiting for it to cool down, then flick your eyes to the figure once more. You swear it’s moved closer. You stand up, eager to put more wood into your fire. However, you have none and turn away to scrounge for whatever you might be able to find just beyond the light’s edge. The figure stands in the opposite direction, only two meters away from you. You dare to look back at the first one and find it gone. You face the figure’s current position again and stare. The fire flickers behind you unnaturally, and when you look back, you see a young girl crouched over your rabbit. She has short blonde hair with a ribbon tied on the left side of her head, a black vest over a white shirt, a black skirt, and red shoes. Her vest and skirt, though, are not merely black, but a perfect void of darkness. She picks up your rabbit and shoves it in her mouth, biting down as she swallows it whole, as though her throat is as wide as her neck and lacks a gag reflex. She smiles and comments in Japanese before asking you a question. The fire continues to flicker, and your heart seizes as you realize that it’s dying unnaturally quickly. The girl steps closer, and you step back before checking for the figure. It’s gone, and when you turn back, you see it pouncing at you, red eyes and sharp teeth gleaming at the same time your only source of light is snuffed out. You hold up your arms, then feel your left palmarus longus being torn away. You cry out and grab at the wound.

Another feminine voice speaks, this one relatively older, and you look around for the source. You can’t find it; even the stars have disappeared. You throw yourself to the grass, praying that whatever is going on ends soon. The sound of combat rings out above you until the younger voice begins to squeal in pain and flee into the night. When you dare to open your eyes, the stars are restored, and you’re left with another, taller person. She says something as she approaches you, and you try to pull away from her. The person picks you up with one arm around your upper back and the other under your knees. You soon realize that this person likely plans to help you. Exhaustion takes hold, and you fall unconscious.

You wake up. Though similar, you’re not in Keine’s home. Your arm hurts, you’re starving and thirsty, and you still feel exhausted. You remember the events of last night and dare to examine your wound. It’s been wrapped with acceptable quality, though the bandages will need to be changed as soon as possible. You test your muscles and confirm what you feared: Your middle, ring, and smallest fingers are no longer functional. You leave the bedding and the room to find a meal sitting on a low table. It’s lukewarm now, but no less satisfying to your weary body. Outside, you find who must be your savior: a teenage girl with long, dark brown hair tied up in a red bow, a red vest, detached white sleeves, a red skirt, and brown shoes. She’s sweeping the path leading up to the building, though she soon looks up from her task at you. You approach her, clutching your arm, and she does the same, dragging her broom behind her. You greet her, thank her, and tell her it’s time to change your bandages. She doesn’t seem to understand you, but from the way she takes your arm, you can tell she was thinking the same thing. She leads you inside, sits you at her table, then brings the dishes to the kitchenette and fetches her medical supplies. You watch as she heals you, facing the reality of the wound and its consequences. The girl is nearly finished when you hear steps approaching. When the door opens, you see only the second worst possibility. You turn away and let the teacher speak with the girl. The woman kneels down at the table. “…I’m sorry… I… I had hoped things wouldn’t have turned out like this, but I knew you needed some space. …I… I’m sorry… I’m just glad you’re safe.” You do nothing to react, letting her squirm with her guilt. She rests a hand on your shoulder. “Phantreis…”

[] Swat her away. This is all her fault.
- [] You don’t need her. You don’t need anyone.
- [] This other girl is the only person you’ve met that you can tolerate.
[] Ignore her. Your only priority should be Loki.

It is 2:38 PM CST. Voting will be closed at 2:38 PM CST on September 23rd, 2026.