"So, sort this out for me, Suika," Yuugi half-yelled over the transmitter. "You're saying that Marisa's dead, Yuuka's dead, and the Enma is missing?"

"A-yup!" It was easy to tell which of the two had been imbibing recently. "Yuuuugi, the boring ghost is missing too."

This was news to Yuugi. "Marisa was killed by Yuuka, Yuuka was executed by the Enma, and now she's missing because she probably did something she wasn't supposed to do." Yuugi cupped her chin in her free hand, her sake sloshing around in her almost-full saucer. "So why is she missing?"

"I dun know," came back the reply. "Even Yukari can't find her."

---

Yukari had been busy for the past few weeks. She had allowed Shiki access to her gaps for the public "execution", had bid farewell to her previous life with her blessing of Kana and Yuuka, and then had spent a lot of time looking for Yuyuko. Youmu had let Yukari know that Yuyuko said she was leaving for a while, and that had been around the same time as the execution. She was so busy, she forgot to take back the contact orbs Reimu had used on her trip down, and Suika, having found them in the storage shed just outside the house, decided to use her power to bring one of them to Yuugi.

Yuyuko was always a whimsical being. She would be the person that would run a marathon just to enjoy all of the refreshments along the way. To someone like Yukari, while it would be child's play to track her movements, it would much rather be spent sleeping.

While Yukari slept a lot, it was only to conserve her own energy. Youkai were creatures born from emotional responses and/or fears and likes, but eventually even youkai as powerful as the Lady of Borders knew her own strengths and limits. Her own power took very little effort, but if she was to fulfill her end of the bargain to Reimu, she'd have to stay alive. One generation later, and everything seemed to be the same. Old youkai faded away, and new ones came in to take their place. Gone was Elly, Yuuka's gatekeeper, and the fo

[X] If a fight is what it takes to bring this to a close... you'll just have to find some way to survive!

It's too late to run now. Hell, it's been too late to run ever since you first talked to her; you have a feeling that she made up her mind to kill you as soon as she found out that you were against her 'cause'. At this point, even if you could get Orin out of her funk and moving, trying to run might just end up bringing Okuu chasing after you up into the city, and you can't think of a worse outcome than that.

Which means you're going to have to fight here. With one last look at Orin, you stand from your crouch and turn towards Okuu, sizing her up as you mentally prepare for battle.

That cannon is still pointed towards you, but she isn't firing yet; there must be some sort of limit on how quickly she can shoot, or she would have just hit you with a follow-up after her first shot grazed you. It's too heavy for her to wield it easily, too; she has to brace herself with her free arm just to keep it trained on you, let alone re-aiming. Add in the weight of the thing slowing down her footwork and the fact that she'd be fighting one-handed, and your path is clear: you're going to have to get close and stay close until you can knock her down for long enough to give yourself a chance to get out of here.

The only problem is how. There's about a twenty foot gap between the two of you now, and If Okuu's done the same thinking you have, then she'll be trying to maintain that distance just as sure as you're trying to close it. Dodging those fireballs won't be easy at any distance, but getting closer will only make the task more difficult, and judging by the speed of that last shot, twenty feet is as good as point-blank range for this weapon. Danmaku as a distraction is a possibility, but you have a feeling that putting what little you've got up against her projectiles would be like showing up bare-handed to a knife fight. At closer ranges, maybe you could--

"Get away from Taizou, Rin."

And thinking time is over. Stepping back into a more balanced sta

“I heard that when you die in extreme pain or sorrow, you become an evil spirit, only caring about his revenge. Now I'm asking you: are you in pain right now? Of course, you're laying on some rocks. That's not very comfy. But you had worse, right? Like, I don't know, when you fall on those rocks! I bet it hurts. Are you still feeling the pain? Does it still hurt? Hey, I wonder! If I can erase the pain, will you not be mad at me for scaring you? Won't you throw rocks at me if I … let's say 'heal' you. I don't really want to go into explanations.”
“Please...” Is all you manage to say. Mainly because you're badly hurt, but also because your jaw is broken. That's what you get for trying speleology without reading the manual! And maybe the rope was too short too. And maybe the rock was too hard.
You were trying to fix that hook, like you saw in that movie, but then, something asked you what you were doing, and, startled, you fell from the plateau.
That was a beautiful fall, by the way. Maybe you should have recorded it, and uploaded it on Youtube.

Oh silly you! That's right, you can't really move, since your bones are all broken! That hurts a lot, by the way. Not as much as when your mom caught you drinking beer in the family basement, but it still hurts. Thinking about it, you're wondering how will react your mother, hearing that you disappeared in a hole. Maybe she'll say something like:
“He disappeared? Lock your beer and your daughters!”
Yeah, obviously something like that.

“So, are you decided? Suits me if you decide to become an evil spirit, we're in shortage of them. Rin may pay good price for a new spirit.”
“Who's... Rin?”
“She's taking care of hell, torturing some spirits. Kinda like a caretaker, but more sexy.”
That's right, you remember the building's caretaker. As friendly as a space invader, and as sexy as a bearded woman.
“Please... Help me.”
Wow, your jaw wasn't broken in the end? My bad, I though it was. Fine, let's say your jaw is fine. But talking is still the only thing you

—We had strayed the caves for whole millennia.

No, to say that would be a bold overstatement.

One loses notion of time underground – seconds blend into minutes, minutes melt into hours, hours mingle into days. One could say time isn't much unlike a tankard of cheap ale in a wayside tavern – it is lost with neither heed nor notice, only apparent when you set your mind towards the past, to tally sceptically the gone-by numbers. Indeed; deep beneath the light-basked surface of the world, in the snaking bowels of Hell's foyer, time spilled between your fingers as drops of dilute golden brew.


Garion stopped, stooped against the cold, stone wall of the passage, then sighed – only to himself, of course.

He never would have directed such explosion of emotions at another.


He pricked up his ears and listened for the sounds of water seeping from the cracks in the uneven ceiling, measuring an interval at each loud tinkle when they crashed on the treacherous, crooked floor. His mind hovered just this side of restlessness, and the noise of falling droplets made a good substitute—however whole-clothed—for clocking how long he had been wandering the convoluted maze of sunless tunnels. His aching feet screamed Murder! but the screams went by largely ignored.

His feet's opinion had never been a point of much interest to Garion.

Sinister and malevolent, our minds to be.

=1st Part=: >>2303

For as long as she could remember, Orin had been good at handling people. Dead people. All of whom she would handle straight into the Hell of Blazing Fires. That was what she did. It was her job. Her history was long and storied, and the vast majority of those stories involved corpses, fires, and the subsequent combination of the two. Those two things were the tools of her trade.

She was not sure what to do when all she had was one. Other than feel awkward.

"Hi there, little guy."

The small child she held aloft over her head made no reply, simply dangling there in his too-large clothes, his dark eyes staring at her from behind the messy tangle of his dark hair. Small beads of sweat rolled down her pale skin as she felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath her fingers. Her vibrant red hair began to fritz, slowly unraveling one of her twin braids as her large, black, feline ears began to droop. Gradually it occurred to her that, in accidentally dragging a living person down to Hell and nearly tossing him into a flaming pit, she might have been a bad girl.

She whimpered a little. She had to make sure Satori didn't find out!

"Hey," she stuttered, smiling weakly at the little boy. "You must be a tough little guy, so I bet you'll be okay while I figure out what to do with you, right?"

The boy stared into her dark red eyes. She stared into his. His breathing stayed calm. She heaved a sigh of relief.

Then she nearly fumbled him right into the pit as he burst out crying.

It is high time to perform this ritual. I have delayed it for too long. There are no excuses this time. My foster parents are away with my step-sister and I have access to the secret basement.

Tonight we have a total lunar eclipse and father always said it is good for magic rituals. That is the reason they are away, too.
Saturn is properly aligned and Mars won’t make any trouble this time. Maybe Pluto could do something… no, the poor little dwarf planet will have little impact on my magic tonight.
Is snow still falling outside? Oh yes, it is! It is snowing! I have noticed that my powers increase during any kind of precipitation.
Conditions could hardly be more ideal!

I rush downstairs into the basement with everything I need. My supplies were stored in a large box under my bed.
That is the only place where my neurotic mother doesn’t check every Sunday.
First I have to draw the circle with crayons and fresh blood, just like the old book says. I’m using pig blood. We keep it in larger quantities in the fridge for my younger sister. I still can’t believe she is experimenting with vampirism… it was probably because she read that novel.
The circle is drawn. I paid great attention to the details because some demons are greatly angered if you draw the circle badly.
I’m using a universal circle that can be used for practically any demon in existence. Well, you should draw the higher demon’s personal circles if you want any real favor from them.
I light vermillion red candles, one by one, then I turn out the lights. These candles are infused with magical powders that are usually used in potions and other magical stuff. This makes them glow brighter and fill the air with magical particles that smell like decaying flowers…
Now the only things missing are the clean papyrus in the center and my blood on it, then I can begin chanting.

...So? It's not like she can see me if I don't want her to. The silent, instant switch from "visible" to "completely nonexistent" makes me think back to all the times I wish I'd have had this back in high school. Not so much for the spy potential as the avoiding trouble potential; a pattern that seems to have followed me even this far.

And still, the girl that walks out of the door stares insistently at me the second she comes into view. The unmistakably not-a-god-damn-cheating-cunt. Her features aren't quite enough to make the distinction, but then last I checked the cat didn't flicker like some kind of retinal scar left by a child's flailing sparkler at night. Between the heavy contrast and the wild swaying and snapping of the lines that make her up, it's hard to make out anything more than that she's there. Except that as soon as I make the distinction, they scatter into the air like worms, digging into the walls and dissolving into the air.

...Maybe I'm just too tired for this shit.

The room they were just in proves barren, the odd chair or empty bookcase aside. No loose books, tools, bottles, clothes, or any other of the random crap I've seen walking around this place, and definitely no people. In fact, were it not for the flicker of a shadow in the corner, I'd never have known anyone was here at all. Now, though, my feet are slamming the ground faster than my heart's pumping. Some primal urge always takes me over when I get to chasing someone, makes me want to just tear their arms off. Maybe it's because thieves always know what to steal to really ruin your day. Like arms! I'd certainly hate to have mine stolen.

Somehow, though, this one's always a step ahead. Every turn is another careful listen or another disappearing shadow, and her pace never slows even though the rooms we end up in look like they should have toppled years ago. Looking at the outside of the tower through windows, I've gotta wonder how this thing even stays up without

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(Sorry, I couldn't resist with the thread name.)

------

The trip back to the village had seemed markedly different compared to yesterday, and it took a few moments for the realization to sink in. Inexplicably, I had lost my Moses effect on the general populace. The few villagers I happened to cross paths with no longer seemed as eager to retreat into whatever pits they crawled out from the mere sight of me but instead, did little more than give me a wide berth as they milled past quietly, eyes carefully avoiding my discreet gaze. Their sudden change in demeanour was a surprise, as was their continued presence above-ground. It could only mean Screeches had failed to convince the villagers in abandoning the surface, or had never tried to do so in the first place. The numerous ignorant souls attending to their morning tasks and setting the village up for a new day looked to be no more informed about their danger than they were yesterday. Not that it would make much of a difference now given the fact that Byakuren’s circle was essentially worthless to me at this point.

I spared little thought over the matter, being far more preoccupied with where the flaming sea ghost had disappeared to after failing to turn up at our agreed rendezvous for hours on end. Instead of wasting more time waiting around for her much-delayed arrival, I opted to return to the village to see what I could possibly procure for my inevitable confrontation with the three-armed freak. Marching into his camp with nothing but Yukari’s defunct abilities as back-up would be a poor lapse in judgment. He would have to be confronted with a show of power and authority as appropriate for elders speaking on equal terms, two key things I was lacking and had no way in imitating. If he was to be suitably impressed or threatened enough into reconsidering his custody of Short Stuff, it would have to be done through more conventional means. But how, I had to wonder?

Towards that end, I decided to risk visiting the Hieda manor once more despite having outstayed my welcome there the day before. Screeches was my primary source for information and the resources I desperately needed, a fact I would have to

Silence.

Clank!

...Relative silence.

Clank!

A lovely little iron metronome, pushing forward however slowly with every tick and every tock.

Clank!

After a while, it doesn't even register as noise. At this depth echos are swallowed by an impenetrable darkness before the next strike, making for an unorthodox sanctuary from the outside world. The burning in my muscles is just a price to pay for such serenity. When I first started, it was a different story; The silence was deafening, and spending days on end with black on every side let my imagination fill it with all kinds of horrors. All of them were real, yeah, but there's danger in some form or another no matter where or how you work. There's no profit without risk, no risk with enough skill, and no skill without hard work. The only people who never fuck up are the ones who never do anything, right?

Thunk.