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[Chapter Count]
(1894 entries)(+48 chapters last thread)

[for phoneanons who can't access the dead threads, here's the last thread. Link to all others in the 'all entries']:
https://warosu.org/jp/thread/49513413 | 36th thread

[pastebin for the finale (for writers, full of spoilers)]
https://pastebin.com/zqS1Krp7

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RESUME!
>Hana and Reimu together manage to seal away whatever curse Anon developed inside him successfully, a furnace, with Anon understanding he's now not entirely human anymore. Reeling, he tells Reimu about Ran's death and unwinds all his spite for her, bringing Hana to tears, who had forgiven Reimu and differentiated the woman she's redeemed herself into and the past monster into Mom and Mother, respectively. Anon and Reimu realise Hana blames herself for everything bad that's happened to them, Reimu living on borrowed time and because she was too weak to resist Yukari's machinations, hurting her father. They agree that while their relationship is dead, they can still act as a family for Hana, which they do. Aunn soon joins. Marisa and Kanako tag along and after some conversation, Anon is sent back to the Moriya and Reimu and Hana join the others to kill Yukari;
>Meanwhile, Chen wakes in Yamame's arms and is told about what's happening after they saved everyone from the underground. Yamame tells her the homes of her family are gone in the destruction. Chen sobs on that and then on herself with the plague she's left with after Ran reconstructed the gap within her, Yukari's shadow much more prominent now and actively poisoning her mind and manipulating her feelings and emotions and encouraging behaviors she's appalled by. Yamame manages to keep that in check briefly, but then Toutetsu comes from the temporal mist and her words have Chen realize Ran died. Anon comes around a while later with both Aunns in tow and Chen talks to him, and though Anon is terrified of Chen's shadow, which is now Yukari's, he hugs and comforts her enough. Chen then asks to be brought to the others after she senses the war is over;
>Yuyuko has an epiphany that, if Yukari is now powerless without the gap, she can argue for her survival and have her exiled at hakugyokurou rather than let the others kill her off;
>Suika descends into the Underground and finds Yuugi holding back the concentrated power of an entire nuke. She's landed a few seconds to build incredible protections and some nice words before the nuke goes off and kills Yuugi. The froggy goddess does indeed stop the nuke from ravaging Gensokyo, but it's too much effort and she feels herself slipping. Okuu comes to help;
>Yuuka, Mima and Sakuya manage to put Seiga on the ropes, but she's smart and uses the explosion of the HSE to escape. She's later killed off by Mokou, who was hanging around the bamboo forest of the lost with Kaguya. Yuuka and Mima fight the feral Kirin and are brought to a compromise where Yuuka keeps killing it again and again through its regeneration while Mima purifies the Kirin and maintains protections to stop the temporal mist from mercing them. The Kirin is reborn days later, time not passing within the temporal mist, Mima dies (temporarily), and the Kirin cleanses Gensokyo from the temporal mist. Yuuka joins the battle;
>Briefly empowered by the meaning of the four-leaf clover Sekai gave her, Kasen manages to cripple Yukari and send her towards the tree, destroying her Senkai in the process. She reattaches Douji's arm and completes the merge, meeting Yukari on the tree. Underneath the tree, Patchouli and Meiling finish the ritual and Sekai is reborn, but she's still downloading her data from the tree, so Remilia goes to join the battle against Yukari to protect the tree and her mansion. The others soon join. It's Hana, Reimu, Kasen, Marisa, Kanako, Byakuren, Okina and Remilia against Yukari. Battle ensues, and it's ugly. Yukari is staunch and powerful against a bunch that can barely touch her properly while buffed by the sword. Okina develops a plan to throw her off that involves cutting down the tree and goading Yukari with threats of targeting her baby. Yukari is furious and blunders, but it turns out she'd constructed a plan on top of Okina's and used herself as bait during the attack to steal Reimu's float while she was vulnerable from having another chakra core dead, getting damaged in the process but harnessing most of Reimu's new power and stealing away her invisible mikos. She turns the tables against the others and is on the cusp of killing Kasen for good, but Yuuka, after the temporal mist is dispelled, joins the fray with a big-ass sunflower and laser in tow. Hana gathers the others, now with Sanae and Suika who were imprisoned in the mist, and settles on using her powers to snag away the invisible mikos who Yukari used for support, which would attract Yukari to her and give the others ample time to whale on her. The plan works and Yukari suffers a generational jumping: she loses one arm, the sword is taken by Kasen, she gets stabbed through the chest and has half her face blown to bits by Reimu. Yuuka passed out from exhaustion. Yukari's left defeated on the ground and Hana prepares to mercy kill her but is stopped by Yuyuko and Youmu at the last second, who came from nowhere to vouch for Yukari's and her child's lives;

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>>50274399
>After Reimu shatters her Gohei against Yukari's face, she has a moment for herself high up in Gensokyo's stratosphere. She apologizes to her lineage for being retarded and the Hakurei god, who'd come around to talk, accepts it. He then prattles about Reimu's power when she tries to turn it off before it kills her but gets cold feet, saying he had hidden from her that it'll kill her should she keep it on or turn it off because if she knew that power would get her killed no matter what, she wouldn't have used it against Koutei, Douji, or Yukari and would have lost the war. Reimu resigns, knowing he speaks the truth, and scrambles to spend her last minutes with Hana, but Marisa comes around, and Reimu tells her that she won't be able to uphold their promise. Marisa spergs hard, but Reimu ignores her and goes to meet Hana. Feeling free and relieved since her death is guaranteed, she starts floating;
>Hana seethes that someone could feel merciful enough to protect Yukari and has a prickly exchange with Youmu before Kasen interjects and Yuyuko starts begging for Yukari's life, saying that she's not a danger anymore and that she'll keep her from doing anything dangerous to Gensokyo. Hana doesn't buy it, but she feels sympathy towards the child inside Yukari, as they're in the same spot she's been in her whole life before the Solstice. Kasen gives her the entirety of the choice, stating she'll be on Hana's side no matter what she chooses. After some back-and-forth, Hana decides to spare Yukari only to keep her sibling safe. Yukari immediately seizes that moment of opportunity, though she reckons she's not capable of fighting anymore. Thus, she impales herself on the onikirimaru and, dissociating in her near-catatonic state, uses Reimu's power to float. Rather than use them to fight, she runs towards Yuyuko, intending on stealing her manipulation of death to have everyone's deaths insured. Hana notices that and rallies the others so they protect Yuyuko, but Yuyuko, after a brief exchange with Hana and vagueposting a command, runs towards Yukari. The others try to stop Yuyuko, but can only marginally hinder her. Hana is fuming and decides to put down Yuyuko before Yukari can have power over death but is stopped by Youmu, who's just as distressed as she is but believes in Yuyuko, who'd said she wouldn't ally with Yukari. Hana tries to ignore her by using her noneuclidean movement but is intercepted by emo Youmu from lost world, who she observes overlaps normal Youmu in the noneuclidean world. They have a quick scuffle, and just before Yukari and Yuyuko meet and the latter could say something to the former, Reimu uses the fucking neckbreaker to engage Yukari. Infinitely floating above another's float proved a dangerous thing when the power from one slash Reimu floated over generated enough energy to atomize a chunk of Yggdrasil;
>Kanako saves Hana and Youmu from being obliterated by the shockwaves of the tree hitting its stump. The three have a quick talk about what to do, and Hana and Youmu have a shouting match before Youmu makes a point that gets the other two thinking. Hana grapples with her mental for a bit, comparing this cataclysm to the underground one and though there she froze and had to be saved, after her family was reunited, she found strength within to poise herself and keep herself from panicking. Youmu says that Yuyuko tried to say something to Yukari, and that would most likely throw Yukari off the float, thus explaining why Yuyuko told her to be ready. Hana decides to create an opportunity for Yuyuko;

SURELY it'll end this thread.

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>>50274443

>>50274443
2026 baby. Epilogues, extended epilogues, rewrites, sequels, stories set in the same universe.
This is a franchise now.
And it is never letting you go.

The current arc is looking to be the longest so far, currently only a little bit behind the size of the third arc of the finale.

>>50274702
What about the SEX tho?

>>50277003
Sex? People read this for the sex?

>>50277049
I don't think any of the sex in here was particularly well-written, let alone erotic, and I'm glad it's gone.

>>50277049
No, but. BUTT

>>50277064
True, I only ever read this for the politics.

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I was scrolling through some old threads and I saw this post
https://warosu.org/jp/thread/47515133#p47619600
I just want to let everyone know that this year, Meiling tops Patchouli.

>>50277110
Blessed.

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Black spots swim across my vision, and beyond them swims a cloud of stars. Beyond them and nebulas and the ethereal dust that drifts aimlessly across the universe, what lies beneath the mortal shell of all beckons me… But I cannot go there yet and mingle with those who vie to gobble up the Land of the Backdoor and reach Earth, to enthrall 10.9 billion living souls and 117 billion coursing the Sanzu—the Styx, the Vaitarani or the Wangchuan, whatever humans decide to call it—, metamorphosing this beautiful pale blue dot into their realm of decay. I have a duty to each one of them.

Mind reels and slowly makes sense of my surroundings, one hand clasped to that which Kasen Ibaraki had entrusted me with. I’d passed out after opening the self-replicating labyrinth of backdoors—without the sword firmly held between my fingers, I’d have died there.

It doth shun me, for I’m neither of its mothers and cannot wield the Manipulation of Explainable Phenomena nor Reimu’s Float or her flames…

… Yet, it remains a catalyst. Barely a centimeter of blade is left.

Someone small was carrying me; the horns with beautiful adornments tell me it’s Suika. Yuuka Kazami is being carried too by that man whose faith had relinquished me—his mother should whip him, but alas—and neither Byakuren Hijiri nor Sanae Kochiya are to be seen… My best bet is that they’re right there in the distance, urging those of the Myouren and the Moriya, the Tengu and the Kappa, to flee the Mountain, for a shadow looms greater upon its maimed frame. Great branches fall from its canopy only to disappear—a small mercy.

Yukari had dropped a nuclear bomb under Youkai Mountain, and somehow it'd been restrained; she then punched a wound across its stomach and flooded its insides with a crumbled world; somehow, it survived.

Now she wants to squash the entire thing. I mustn’t allow her.

“… Suika,” I call the oni, eyes switching away from the mountain to another towering presence past the blur of lifted silt and ash. A beacon of power, ignored yet there, pulsating with power. The oni looks at me from below, my cheek cradled to the top of her head. Limbs felt like hindrances, the stomach had glaciated, and a chill had run up to my esophagus; there it thrummed a resonance that robbed me of words. It is the weight of fear, tempered by the resignation this broken blade instills within me.

Winter had been long, and though I ought to see the bloom of spring, it seems it’s not meant for me.

It’ll be for Chen, who believed and forgave me; for that simple catholic from whom I gathered such raw faith and understanding; for Satono and Mai, waiting atop Youkai Mountain.

“B-Bring me there,” I say, eyes illuminated by the emerald glow cleaving dust. “… Kasen gave me this sword to keep me alive, but I’ll… use it for a much better purpose.”

The others kept going without us. Had they heard me, or had Suika spoken to them? Had the grip of despair such a situation conveys kept their minds focused only on their survival and the survival of their people? I couldn't tell.

My eyes never left Koutei’s forgotten seven-branched sword.

Ears boomed with the slow grind the tree had against its stump, gravity urging it to rest and level an entire section of Gensokyo, once more forever imprinting onto the land the misery Yukari propagated in her madness; Yuuka’s sunflower, cut through in Reimu’s and Yukari’s scuffle, had long had its head tumble to the ground, its stalk crushed by the weight of an entire mountain condensed into hammer wood.

Yukari had sealed the Backdoor with her Gap.

The magic negation plundered from a dragon’s extension would suffice.

Suika had spoken—emaciated and wide-eyed—words I didn’t—couldn’t—listen to.

I had lunged off of her, the hurt of hitting the ground little compared to what lingered from the battle. So much was taken, so much faith spent, and a tarnish I don’t fully comprehend ravaging everything inside, pulling and eroding yet never fully killing. It would never hurt quite like the decisions I made that brought me here hurt.

A lost goddess sheltered behind the mask of a monster. I could feel something wearing that mask.

—hands crawl towards the slumbering sword of viridian—

An enabler of Gensokyo’s worst tragedy.

A relic of the Age of Gods.

Even though humanity has moved on, my duty to those whose shoulders such an age and what came after were built upon remains. Their compass, their stars.

The Goddess of Backdoors won't fail 130 billion souls.

… I won’t wanna fail Mai and Satono.

Hands pick me up and pass the arm without the word behind her neck, supporting my weight. Suika walks me towards the sword, and I am… grateful—Koutei’s skeleton, destroyed.

It fed the land of Gensokyo with its blood, bone, and marrow.

The harvests for a thousand years shall be of exceptional quality.

I won’t be here to dwell upon that quality, but they will.

One hand rests against the seven-branched sword; the other prepares the broken blade.

… My last stand.

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Youmu’s way of ‘joining’ Mom came about with her sword slitting towards her throat with eyes as hard as steel and honed technique. Her intense expression and movements nearly stripped away from me the details of the ragtag plan we’d thrown together. So focused was Mom on keeping Yuyuko and Yukari separated that the attack came with the voracity of a beast, poised to kill… had it not been for my Sacred Gohei biting the nodachi’s shock steel and deflecting it away. The force sent me reeling into Mom’s arm and the both of us tumbled away.

“Hana…?” Mom whispers, rather aloof, her one arm wrapping tight around me, eyes forward like a predator’s. Feels safe.

“I’m fine.”

Never one to ignore an opportunity, Yukari had slipped away towards Kasen-nee and Yuyuko, with Youmu following to protect her lady—had it not been for expanded worldlines, I wouldn’t have seen fleeting realization blossoming in the phantom’s pinkish eyes, which faded away quickly. Youmu could’ve very much dashed forward and put pressure on us, a more effective maneuver than sticking close like a teddy bear. She knows we know. If Marisa-sensei realized it too, she didn't care, her broom hissing against the ground. “Hana-chan, are you alright?!” She asked with haste, eyes darting frantically between me, Mom getting up, her Hakurei crimson wings stretching and compressing as she prepped herself—where’s her Gohei…?—and the leaning tree. Before words could even leave me, the winds carried whispered words from the woman that, by the next moment, had joined the scuffle with her howling winds that scraped bark from the tall roots and bewildered Yuyuko and Youmu, though did little to stop the ancient Youkai, her graceful movements and ease in handling Danmaku and Kasen-nee’s powers a telltale of the reaches of her authority.

“It must be believable, the battle. Otherwise, she'll know.” Kanako-sama’s whispers reached the three of us, but likely not Kasen-nee, who flailed at her wit’s end. The wound across her chest—so very close to the heart—oozed blood. She’ll understand it in time.

“Let’s go—!” I rally the two, brandishing my Gohei, but Marisa-sensei’s unabashed desperation and passionate words knocked out the wind from my lungs.

“H-Hana-chan, talk to Reimu, please!”

“Marisa…” Mom echoes, voice drowned by the growls of the dying tree.

“NO! DON’T ‘MARISA’ ME!” She hisses. W-What is happening?! Had Mom done something to sensei…? Why is she— “Hana, make your stupid fucking mother see r-reason, please-da-ze!” Her eyes are back to me, puffy with thick tears. Bravery left me like water drained from a hose, a sudden burst of worry and fear hacking up my spine. The world is ending; everything around us is crumbling or overloaded with the frantic sounds of battle. What could have Marisa-sensei’s mind so enslaved that she would put all that mess as background noise and focus on Mom…? A single glance at Mom showed aloof resignation, a curdling hint of shame beyond the Floating features, which was quickly killed as Mom took off towards the battle.

“M-Mom—!”

“—You retard, come back here!” She bites, golden eyes turning to me and softening in the worst way possible: she’s on the brink of hopelessness. I felt small, even if she stared at me from beneath. “Hana, she’s going to fucking kill herself-ze! She can’t stop her p-powers or whatever—she’s dead-set on dying!” Marisa-sensei uttered, rage bathed in fear.

Fear for Mom’s existence, which she’s apparently forfeited.

Mom is dying—c-choosing to die…?

B-But she…

… She just got here! Mother was smothered and tossed away into the cold past where she belongs; Mom crawled out of the pit and came back to me, to Father. Why is s-she…?

Arms around me, protecting me. Holding me tight. Family.

She wants to take it away from me so soon.

N-No. No… I don’t want that…

For the first time in more than a decade, I possess so much to me. Why does she want to take away that warm embrace and kind words from me like this? Don’t I deserve a modicum of happiness for once in my life…?

I do.

I deserve it.

… But I won’t be given it.

So I’ll take it.

The child would’ve begged Marisa-sensei for guidance, for a plan she could follow. My expression hardens, body relaxes to the likeness of a predator before they pounce, and I hear the Ordinary Magician choke. “… Marisa-sensei…” I coo, eyes moving to Mom’s back, her wings unfolded and graciously following her movements as she tangled with Kanako-sama’s winds and Kasen-nee’s destructive power against Yuyuko’s gracious dance and the floral annihilation of her Danmaku, her face hard. “We kill Yukari, and then we save Mom.” Words absolute.

A sniffle echoes, but those golden eyes soon harden too, a dashing, shaky smile taking over her features. “C-Count on your sensei, Hana-chan—her life belongs to us-ze,” a smile that, eventually, steadied with the weight of truth: “… She owes us that much.”

If she’s not willing to give, I'll take it.

We will be a family, yes, and we will be happy.

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With Marisa-sensei calmed and this throbbing heart of mine steeled—warm arms wrapped around, nestling me close to the organ under ribcage, muscle, and sinew. I’ve never possessed as much as I do now. Yukari and Mother took so much away from me—a lot that I’ll never get back—we joined the scuffle in the mud with haste, the clock ticking much closer now, an invisible noose tender to the skin of her throat, compressing the airways and pulling ever uncomfortably on the bone. Sweat beaded, the theatrics stretching me thin and across my frustrations, thunderous and clawing like a mad beast. I wanted to cry, but I rather met the silver-haired swordswoman’s blade in and out from the worldlines, the continuous overlapping between silver and purple making me sick to my stomach; winds howled, lifting the dust from the ground, and the lean swiftly grew from an omen to an avid threat, branches scratching heavens and pulling the night sky like lines drawn across paper, sullying the barrier.

Kasen-nee screamed at Yuyuko and Youmu, questioning them, I take; all I heard was buzzing inside my ears. Stomach churned, knees felt weak, and tears threatened to overflow. So much happening—I never possessed as much as I do now—, so much demand.

My sibling inside Yukari’s belly.

—Someone who could understand me. A child of disgrace—

The tree falling.

—Sekai. She’s my sister—

Mom’s dashing towards her imminent death.

—My mom and my Father—

Father in the line of danger again.

—My family—

I want to puke and to curl up and never look at these problems again, brain constricting and the inherent bloodlust that carried me through the Solstice, instilled there by Remilia Scarlet, vanished into a thin and trembling thing. The last time I met my limit, I froze and crumbled like a statue; Mom had to protect me with her body—she was ready to die, as she is now.

To Marisa-sensei I had spoken so boldly, yet under the expression; the urge to take from fate’s hands what is mine…

Fear.

It feels cyclic, I ponder to myself as everything happening before me blurs into motions and feelings: Youmu fights me and Kasen-nee; the winds cannot reach the laser-focused oni, her snake pupils on an even more focused Yukari; Mom and Kanako keep the facade going—

A pressure unlike any other.

The tree is falling.

Cyclic death; cyclic catastrophe and degradation of my mettle.

Again and again, loss and destruction. Fear that no matter what, when the end comes, I’ll stand alone, and those three words that couldn’t leave my lips will go forever unheeded.

No matter the facade I put on or the words I spell to myself, the fear is there.

… Fear, therefrom when I was just six…

—Worldlines reveal: for the briefest of moments, Yukari’s eyes were on the great falling tree. Scarlet tendrils had shot out from the stump to stabilize it, yet they ripped like elastic bands.

A breath comes to me, grip on the Sacred Wood firm.

… The child would never carry that weight alone. She’d crumble under it.

For the last time in this war.

This fear is mine.

The child lives in the past.

Hana Hakurei surges forward, hammering through the non-Euclidean world and past the purple-haired Youmu. Her red swords stood down. I pounced out of the wordlines right by Kasen-nee, hand on her shoulder in a vice grip. She looked at me.

“Let her,” a simple whisper loaded with a stare that only we shared.

There was no nod, no words. She saw fearless eyes.

She understood it.

The weight of the tree pressed the atmosphere like a boot aimed for an anthill, an unfathomable volume of gleaming wood hanging in the air as it fell apart and tumbled like a drunken beast. Yukari moved aloof yet boomed with purpose, her daughter’s construct spelling doom for Gensokyo—a distraction like any other. Kasen-nee and Mom were pushed away; Youmu’s blade flurried against the Sacred Wood and Marisa-sensei’s desperate star-shaped spells, and Kanako-sama’s winds nothing but a breeze to Yukari Yakumo.

Sakura blooms, and a veil of gold bears down onto her. Cursed blade rises high.

I am ready.

The pink-haired woman smiled sadly. Her lips parted.

“I love you.”

Aishiteru.

A single word echoed.

Yukari Yakumo’s aloof expression shattered.

For but a second, she stared at Yuyuko Saigyouji with disbelief.

And then a few Sakura petals embraced Yukari’s face. One brushed against my cheek as the worldlines split and my body materialized by Yukari’s, the Gohei ready.

The petal felt cold, like holding a corpse’s hand.

It spurred images from that wretched festival: people's eyes melting away.

In that second, Yuyuko had prompted Yukari’s death.

In that second already gone, the Gohei struck, meeting the side of her neck with a vengeance. Not cleaving, but bludgeoning everything in its path like a gavel.

It was silent, the kill.

Yukari's head flew, blood ebbed, and then it dropped to the cold ground with a quiet thud.

I looked into her one eye. She didn't look back.

Yuyuko caught the beheaded body.

She cried.

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>>50277434
>>50277428
>>50277422
two years writing towards it, and it's suddenly in front of you and then past. Damn… it's quite the bizarre feeling
more soon

kill this fanfic already please

>>50277623
No.

>>50277623
Please don't I'm trying to read through it all and no ending would be the biggest blue balls imaginable. Threads like these are the only thing salvageable about /jp/ these days.

>>50278510
I'm still pissed I wasn't fast enough to catch the Mokou bus and the KMS threads

>>50278580
Kek

>>50277623
NO

That's a lot of stuff happening. I wonder how many insults Kasen threw at Yuyuko and Youmu?

Yukari is dead!

I think at the end of this I'm gonna need a proper chart saying who's alive, who's dead, who's where, who's injured, who's dog got killed, who's house blew up, who's dimension blew up, and who's a lifelong enemy of who
there's just too much solstice to keep track, I fell off for a week or two and when I got back I was completely done for

>>50281292
>Yukari is dead!
Dont fall for it.

>>50281314
...yeaaaaaaaaah that's fair

>>50281314
if she comes back again I think we'll be veering into hack writing territory

>>50281304
Anon...
>>50274394
>[pastebin for the finale (for writers, full of spoilers)]
https://pastebin.com/zqS1Krp7

>>50281474
It's not detailed enough. I didn't even realise Koakuma had been injured at some point until I went back to reread some bits.

>>50281321
It's the perfect karmic middle finger to finish a villain obsessed with finding love no matter the cost: a love confession that ultimately kills her, she really should keep her lazy dead ass on the ground .

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>>50281304
>who's dog got killed
no one's! It's quite the miracle~

>>50284977
A bunch of white wolf tengus were assassinated in cold blood by Yachie so she could save her sorry hide.

>>50281474
I ain't reading that. For my sake. BEGONE SPOILERS YOU DO NOT BELONG IN THIS WORLD YET

>>50288222
It's not full of spoilers anymore since it reached end of set 4 speculation with Yukari's death.

>>50288264
Oh.

>>50288264
Yeah I'm pretty sure at this point all that's left is general talks between characters, Kasen taking over, and Sekai being born properly.

>>50288337
Yukari immediately hijacks the Sekai body through reincarnation with her memories intact and the powers of every woman who's ever seen the HSE. She returns straight to the battlefield and flips everyone, flipping Onikirimaru whole and accidentally flipping Reimu into living so that they can fight 5 minutes before Youkai Mountain blows up.

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>>50289729
>Yukari immediately hijacks the Sekai body through reincarnation with her memories intact and the powers of every woman who's ever seen the HSE. She returns straight to the battlefield and flips everyone, flipping Onikirimaru whole and accidentally flipping Reimu into living so that they can fight 5 minutes before Youkai Mountain blows up.

>>50289729
oh fuck

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A wave of nausea, cold dirt and the smell of blood. Air booms through the nostrils and body jolts awake, fed noradrenaline that quickens the pulse and narrows the mind. Sekai? Is she safe—my daughter…? Fleeting blurs of blue and the closing ritual, bright tentacles of magic pulsating in tandem with falling above, the sea yawning to smother us. It hadn’t; Meiling arms had shot up and once more tonight had met great strain, eased little by Remi’s blood magic. Something had hit the tree, the hammer against the nail, seen by how it’d lunged down… Gingerly, one hand placed against the beating heart. A hurried thrum. Not good.

This body of mine, this lethargic blood, isn’t adequate for taxing matters.

… Had either stopped me even once in matters of Sekai?

“You’re awake,” a sudden—familiar—voice says, and sight broadens from the narrow tunnel to my surroundings, and they land on Sakuya, who cradles Remi’s head in her lap. The landscape of the Scarlet Devil Mansion is the second familiar thing, the mansion’s impeccable facade marred by the construction beginnings around the roof, geared towards the Voilé. Remilia had struck through the observatory to get to us, I’d been told by Koakuma… that little devil—is she safe, I wonder? I cast a solemn prayer that she is, yet I linger not. Eyes shift to the mistress and immediately a punch to the heart: her back was… peeled, for lack of a better word. Her wings melted to puddles that drenched Sakuya’s immaculate apron, and the meat and muscles eaten away by the power of her bloodline. Ears buzz: the memory of atmosphere compressing and threatening to pop us from within like party balloons.

She’d fought the natural force that is pressure to keep our bodies together.

A hurry, however, impedes me from giving the vampire my full appreciation. “The girl—where is the girl…?” I look around in a rush, ignoring the cold bite of the night and the horizon missing a monumental aquamarine tree.

The maid moves to speak, but the bundle in her arms is faster, and Remi shuffles her head just a tad—she’s careful with her lower movements, sinew, muscle, and bones steadily stitching back together—so her scarlet eyes are on me, much to the chagrin of Sakuya. “… Hey, slowpoke,” she mumbles. “Your offspring is by the Misty Lake—educate her more appropriately, would you, Patchy? She didn’t even thank me for Blood Springing us to safety~” I absentmindedly pat the dirt. Moist and grimly ferrous, saturated with blood. Perhaps that’s why I lost consciousness. Lesser people would’ve been liquified and joined Remi's eternal fountain.

A beat, then an echo of fear. W-Where is—

“Save the panic. Meiling woke up first and went ahead,” she upholds her light mood, even if I can see the inflating and emptying of her lungs through the gaping wound smeared across her backside. Sakuya makes a noise, and Remi sighs, nodding at her.

The wound goes deeper than what’s visible. She’ll starve again, as per her choice.

Moonlight illuminates a gentle smile and softened eyes as they meet mine. Unfathomable cosmological threads could’ve fashioned only for me the word peace, and I wouldn’t have needed to look upon such creation, for I trust Remilia’s smile would’ve told me it all. “… Go now, Patchouli. They’re waiting for you.” The next moment, Remi and Sakuya are gone with the breeze.

Seen only by the silver witness that is the moon, I stand from the pool of cold blood. Body, despite aches and profound fatigue, works—Sekai's doing?

I gulp a lump of excitement before it could grow strings and propel me forth like a mad puppet and hurriedly cross the courtyard, movements bumpy, skin shivering, eyes on the gates.

One year in that cage, watching a man rot under the thumb of a monster.

Steps pick up. I ignore the rage of the body.

Long months of preparation

Adorned iron gates, I pass through them. The worst is behind.

Ritual of Body, of Mind and of Soul. Those three shall forever remain the three most gruesome undertakings I’ve ever had to experience in my life; I know that for a fact—

—Body stops, a presence in my peripheral view.

Meiling is crouched down, bearing softened eyes and a small smile curving up the sides of her mouth. Both hands hold her chin, her hair flames and her eyes coral reefs beautifully illuminated by pale silver. Words remain unspoken; my eyes follow hers. The Misty Lake stands a mirror to the moon, its shine warding off a great dark. Gensokyo’s skyline was clear; quiet had overtaken the land.

It was as if not a second of war had stirred.

… But it did, and it’s finally over. The strife, the uncertainty. The gambles.

My reward perches by the shore, watching the glistening waters.

“Why are you here and not with her?” I ask Meiling.

She hums. Small. Awed. “And rob you of the sight of her as she drinks of life outside the cage for the first time…?” She gets up, beaming with a meek laugh that soothes into weary joy as her eyes fall on me. “… It wouldn’t be right if you weren’t there too.”

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A blink, eyes scan her battered face. What an odd thing to say, yet so very Meiling. Her coral eyes, often burdened with this unexplainable urge to… behave so vivaciously. The lexicon fails me—or perhaps it’s a faltering mind—, for words cannot describe what burns inside, and though I distinctly remember mineself struck with similar thoughts after my squabble with Sekai’s bedridden vessel over the pages of the Book of Ymir, this time I bury the introspection for a moment not this, where our daughter awaits there. Alive, breathing. Hazelnut hair blows soft to the tune of the wind; she’s hunched, mantled in this big blanket around her. Maybe Sakuya gave it to her? Or…? Ah, when had I begun approaching her? I didn’t even realize I and Meiling were walking.

Thoughts die as she turns, hair swaying, and wine-red eyes on us, a blend of the sourest grape and blood thick and rich. Full of light, looking straight into mine. My legs could’ve broken, and I wouldn’t have noticed; such is the foolish human heart—let me dwindle in such foolishness and embrace it like Meiling does. I’ve talked to a book for far too long. “… Remi has told me you did not thank her for her politeness in saving our lives,” I tell my child. My breathing child—a minute where Meiling stood by my side, and we watched the building of the HSE reduced to ashes. Sekai had died. Sekai giggles, and the sound booms in my heart, and blood rushes.

… It’s indeed over. The birthplace of the School of Mímisbrunnr, a theater of experiences and sights Patchouli Knowledge had never imagined herself taking part in. Tucked away amidst the certainty of the papyrus for an eternity, safe and calm and in a complete stasis.

Sekai’s smiling face in the moonlight is a dot to an i and a cross through a t. “I wanted to feel dirt underneath my feet—it’s moist,” she says. “And drink water—it’s cold—and breathe air—it’s nice.”

The Remnant is long gone, yet I can’t decipher if I had assimilated it into the sea of memories or it had assimilated me. Doesn’t matter, not here and not now. “Man, you’re lucky Sakuya couldn’t be bothered to scold you~” Meiling spoke, closing the distance and ruffling her hair. It looks so very tender. I closed in too, and after Meiling took her hand away, mine, almost hesitantly, patted her head once—twice. Fluffy, warm. Small and rather empty inside. A lot of space reserved for what I can teach. I want to teach my daughter plenty.

Ah… She has nice hair. “C’mon, get in! It’s cold,” she unravels her blanket like a bat’s wings, and just now I see a small purple flower she holds, freshly plucked from the ground and missing one petal. Meiling and I each take a side and sit down. Warmth spreads quickly as we snuggle close to her. The gatekeeper wasted not a moment before enveloping the girl with an arm. Sekai hummed and pressed against her side; she was like an ant resting against a boulder—

—A hand of hers catches mine under the blanket. I squeeze it. Then…

Silence.

For a moment, then another. There’s a lot to be said—matters on her Father, the poor man might not even remember the visage of his daughter during the play-war; those she wishes to grow close to and those she relishes each growing centimeter of distance from; her future and past—and the time to say those things will come. Sekai stares at the purple flower, solemn yet smiling, before letting her eyes wander up to a million stars and the crowning silver jewel; roaming eyes don’t stop, and they shuffle to Youkai Mountain and the lake.

Sekai takes in the world around her with a smile, holding my hand and nestling to Meiling, kept warm inside and shielded from the cold by the blanket that holds us three huddled together.

It’s been a long time since I cherished the outside.

Suddenly, she stretches her free hand towards the Moon, holding the purple flower as if offering it. “… It smelled nice. Cozy,” she whispers. “It tasted awful; I coughed a lot,” she cringes. Huh…? A question formed yet never saw the light of night, for the flower rose with the wind and deformed out of its petals, which bled into the darkness. The outstretched palm became a pointing finger and, starting from the moon, Sekai drew patterns across the sky like an artist on a canvas; certainly so, purple, twisting lights religiously followed her digit. Meiling and I watched as Sekai drew an Aurora Borealis across the night sky. “… It was the first thing I killed here. I’m so sorry.” She whispered, not with sadness or loathing, but with a small plea that did not dampen her smile for a moment. She then lowered her hand and pulled us two closer to her, and the three of us watched the dancing lights.

Snow soon followed, and the horrors of the great war sank under a blanket of white, muffled yet there anyway, in the minds of every living being. Beyond this shore, those people linger.

But for now…

I squeezed her hand; we huddled nicely.

… Gensokyo watched the sky blaze with purple life as the winter solstice came to a close.

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>>50291032
>>50291025
that's it for these three for now~!
Hana next, more soon!

>>50291025
>>50291032
Finally, I was starting to miss my favourite definitely not gay mothers and their child. Glad to see they got the cute reunion with Sekai in person that they deserved!
good timing too since I was starting my version of their epilogue soon

>>50291025
Patchy boobs.

>>50291032
STANDO NAME: AURORA BOREALIS.

>>50291561
>Spoiler
Good on you Anon, I hope you have fun writing your ending.

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>>50293840
I'd go with [ Around the World] because the Stand stands around the Sekai~
>>50291561
>spoiler
nice to hear man, good writing!

>>50295538
>Picrel
Nightmarish sekai

>>50295538
>[ Around the World]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fdRcfkrisqE
LALALA

>>50291032
>“It tasted awful; I coughed a lot,” she cringes.
What do they say about women and being retarded?

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>>50296060
was thinking the daft punk one, but that works well too~
>>50299734
don't be harsh on her, she just wanted to taste something for the first time

bumpo

>>50303117
I'm a blue da ba dee da ba da!

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>>50305678
Does it even matter? I don't want to keep going without her...

>>50307271
I don't want to keep going without RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN. Yet here I am!

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Air sucks in—chest aches, lungs over-expand—, then leaves. Rushed, yet controlled. My eyes watch her single purple eye as it lolls to hide behind the eyelash with that sort of languidness attributed only to the dead. Her jaw hangs low; her blonde hair cascades all around and soaks up the crimson escaping her disembodied neck, gravity guiding the loose neck components down the torn flesh. Blood seeps out from her other wounds, pooling in the ridges of the nose and the bags under her eye and the craven frown of her forehead, rivuleting small droplets that plunge off her chin to the ashen soil. She smells vile.

I’m looking at her head, which I chopped off.

I’ve killed Yukari Yakumo.

Every detail is committed to mind; nothing of what I’m seeing there laid on the ground is to be forgotten. Memories surface and threaten to send chills up my spine, yet I remain—breathe in, then out—, and though the now doesn’t replace them, the smug evil that shone in her violet eyes disappears under the unfocused gaze of death, and… Nothing. Nothing springs to the forefront. No celebratory glee; no single-minded desire to scream to the skies and proclaim victory over a villain that’s destroyed me and my Father my home, and my land. Only a most hollow feeling that sucks the joy of the kill and snuffs the sated bloodlust.

… And I wouldn’t be able to play dumb to its origins, eyes fixed on the pink-haired ghost. She hugs the cadaver and sobs so loudly. Matters not to her that Yukari's neck oozes blood that does not hose up but impotently pumps out as the heart rasps its dying beats. It drenches her blue kimono and hair; her face smeared in drying blood under the gust of night. So much red… It’ll take forever to clean it all—stop lying to yourself, Hana. Look down—, and her hair? It’ll probably never smell right again—look down. You know what you’ve done—, and…

I…

I look down, towards her belly. She’ll die too, my sibling. Sekai.

Robbed of her fate, as I'd been of mine for so long. But I had been lucky; was given a chance to right the wrongs and take back what was mine, sowing something much better.

Such sowing ended up with me taking Sekai's chance away.

I’ve murdered my sibling—

—Eyes look up—look away, away—as I suddenly remember her tree was to crush Youkai Mountain and me—I should allow Sekai’s tree to crush me as payback—, and eyes go wide. The meager light that lit the area spawned from the gleaming stump, and as such I hadn’t noticed that a yawning slab of flat wood had conquered the skies. Seen from below, nothing but darkness. Worldlines split, revealing them open Backdoors from above. The gargantuan tree disappeared within the void of the Backdoor, quietly and with the authority to swell upon the world the power of its weight and size revoked. How had Okina mustered such a power in so little time, a Backdoor spanning kilometers, and with her faith tainted…?

Soon, the tree was gone, and the Backdoor fizzled out of existence as if a shadow during an eclipse. Stars bathed Gensokyo, and winds howled.

Her crying slowly subsided.

My sister…

… Thoughts drown as another one takes priority; the body stiffens up: M-Mom. Eyes scurry from the sky and promptly lock upon her, teeth batting together. She was on her knees, unfolded wings of flames limp against the ground. Something in how her gaze softens tells me she didn’t even bother watching the Backdoor consume Sekai’s Tree like me and the others, red eyes poised on something I could gauge mattered much more… Lungs burn, eyes do too— “—Miko-chan…” The phantom had ceased her sobs and, with assistance from a spooked Youmu, lifted herself and the dead body from the ground, her back slumping forward and feelings I don't care about swimming in her eyes. Her lips parted to say more.

Gohei pointed at hers, Youmu instinctively bracing her nodachi. I didn’t move, nor did I look away from Mom. Marisa-sensei looked at me with urgency—she knows she can’t reach Mom, not like I can. “… Leave,” I whisper to the phantom. “Take her away. I never want to see her again.” Worldlines shy away from her expression as these words leave me.

This woman tricked the person she loved—was it real? Or merely a ploy to kill Yukari…?—, induced her death through her power. Whatever expression lies there, I fear it.

I don’t want to look into that mirror.

Yuyuko sighs. “… Youmu-chan, if you’d be kind?”

“O-Of course, Yuyuko-sama,” green in the face, Youmu fetched the disembodied head from the ground and placed it on top of Yukari’s graying stomach. A noxious feeling rippled inside watching the frozen lips touch the place where life used to grow in.

Without as much as a peep, the duo turned and left the battlefield.

Nothing that can distract me remains.

Eyes never left Mom, whose gaze grew weary.

“H-Hana-chan, do som—” Marisa-sensei starts, but I’m already there, holding Mom’s hand.

She’s got seconds.

Before words escaped me, her wings enveloped us both, and we vanished inside a cocoon of flames.

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>>50308523
editing the rest of the batch tomorrow, not feeling very swell tonight
more soon~!

>>50308523
They forgot to destroy it all, she is gonna rise up from the dead!

>>50308537
Take care!

>>50308591
If she rises from the dead kinda retarded, amnestic and lobotomized like Yuyuko did maybe it wouldn't be that bad?

>>50311353
The hagmaxing would be real.
And wholesome I guess because it mean Yukari wouldn't fuck things up.
right

>>50311356
But it does essentially mean she gets away with it all. Like, yeah she doesn't remember, but it doesn't change the fact that she's still around and still (probably?) using the powers she stole from other people

>>50311366
If she is braindead forever, that's something I could accept. It's basically a fate worse than death.

>and still (probably?) using the powers she stole from other people
That IS problematic.

>>50311366
>>50311375
She needs to be in contact with onikirimaru to have those powers, so without it and the gap she's pretty much just a strong yogger.

>>50311353
That sounds more like epilogue territory, if you feel like writing that.

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“Thank you, Hana.”

Words die on my tongue like snuffed bonfires.

Flames rose and gathered around us, high and closing like petals of a shy bloom. The layer of ash gave way to a spring of liquid fire, and though everything was ablaze, her hand cradling my cheek burned brighter. It’s not the first time I’ve been inside this—Mother meditating on the shrine’s pond, flower of crimson hiding her from the outer world—, and last time I was in the firestorm's core, before Sanae-san brought me to her shrine, we meditated together, and I had a dream the mind couldn’t parse. Mother reverted to her small, childish frame, and Father was with us, not gone nor suffering. It had been such a merciful dream…

A new light shines upon it; intake of air ceased by her whispered words just now. Her eyes admire my face as if precious, the way they flare with glassy life, tears she’s refusing to shed.

Paper-like Hakurei mikos with expressionless facades, made for battle. The dream, a scribble of our lineage, not for war, but to soothe the mind. That had been Mom's wish: to ease me. It wasn’t a meaningless dream…

… She's been here for longer than I can imagine.

Lips tremble, eyes wide. Hands reach for hers and hold it, grasp it—where's my Gohei? I don't care—keep it from moving away, disappearing. Mom's lips quirk up, but the fatigue is tremendous. Wings melted into the steady stream of weakening flames, powerful once yet now unable to even damage clothes.

“For what…?” I whisper. I shouldn't—so little time—but I do.

“For this, and so much more. I didn’t deserve the weeks of attention you’ve given me, the aid in my weakness, in battle… The last death you're giving me now, Hana,” she says without a hint of hesitation. My stomach sinks, skin grows pale. A sound escapes my mouth, small, shattered and pathetic. I hate it. “The death I deserve would've happened inside the shrine whilst still the broken home I'd made it into, had someone not saved me… I-I'm so grateful I escaped that person, Hana. To think you might understand that feeling just as well as I do.” The glass breaks, and tears come, tallied by laughter. Her thumb caresses ever so sweetly. I'm not laughing. “It was hard for you too, wasn’t it…? Escaping the person I made you into.”

Immense flame. I have followed her with my eyes for as long as I've known myself as a person—a child looking at her Mother's back, yearning to be that person. The ugly truth was revealed in time, yet the looming shadow the flame cast remained there. Yukari happened, and then this war. I left the shadow and stood by her, and we fought beyond our limits. We fell, and we got back together. We carried one another.

My mom, Reimu Hakurei. I stood by her.

Flames fizzle, power drains.

Fading away.

Childhood of light and shadow; a now by her side…

… I have never envisioned an adulthood where there was neither her shadow nor her bonfire.

Such a world… I don't want it. The one where I'm a murderer and a monster that would defile her own Father is already my reality! Nothing of that I can escape or change—a w-world where I lost my Mom just as she clawed out of the pit to be mine again…

That mustn't—won't—be allowed!

She receives no words, yet huffs in small delight anyway. Flames creep up, and rather than just swimming under and on Mom’s body as always, they eat through, like a horde of starved parasites. A whine leaves me, but she doesn’t let go of my hands. “Ah… I put that snotty baby of mine on the path to become another me, yet she fought against it. Again and again, I tried putting her down, and she got back on her feet, spit on my face and became someone reliable to her Father, to her land. She defeated the biggest fucking hag ever and saved everyone.” Her pain is clear. She swallows it down and squeezes my hand tighter. “Me being proud of her is worthless, so I hope she’s proud of herself. She’s come so very far.”

Flames eat her. My blessings reach to hers, but they meet a wall of fire.

Nothing I attempt with my blessings would save her.

My mom is dying.

“D-Don't say t-that, please… There must be a way!” I shriek, grasping her hand with the same strength that cleaved Yukari’s neck. Mom doesn’t move away from me. “W-We thought there wouldn’t be one against Hieda, Yukari, or Koutei, but there was! We fought, and we fought, and we were rewarded—YUKARI IS GONE! FATHER IS FREE!” Breathing grows a hopeless process; lungs struggle as they burn not from ash or flame, but sheer emotion. My everything is tearing itself apart. “W-We have all the pieces; everything is in order! I-I can have the life I was always meant to have. I can be… be…” A choke. The urge to puke fights that of forcing my arm inside my mouth and ripping my guts with a bare hand. Dizzy. “Be loved. I can be loved! I need this *you* with me for that!”

This world unfolding before me, a world without her, ignites rage within.

I won’t allow it…

… And If my blessings won’t do, I just need something else.

Those flames are mine too.

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>>50313119
still sick, still should be in bed since I gotta be back at work soon. Editing calls to me like the green gobli mask…
last of the batch tomorrow, hopefully
more soon~!
>>50308591
appreciated man, thank you

Think I'll be majorly disappointed if Reimu lives after all this. Hoping Hana tries, but fails.

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>>50313119
>>50313668
I want her to live but...
Soon I'll be screaming REEEEEEEEEEEEEIMU, along with RAAAAAAAAAAAN.
Or should I scream REIMUUUUUUUUU instead?

Yea take care my little ranamony!

>>50313846
It'd be sad, but at the same time, relieved that it doesn't throw away all of Hana's character development just so she doesn't have to lose Reimu.
A lot of the HSE has been rooted in (at least I feel) the idea of not always getting what you want. Hana couldn't get her father out, Yukari couldn't get Anon to love her, Patchouli couldn't get Sekai a perfect body, Kasen couldn't escape Ibaraki-douji forever, Alice couldn't score, etc
But Reimu has arguably been one of the few characters to get what she wanted. She redeemed herself in Hana's eyes, saw her daughter grow into a person who could take care of herself, and she gets to die knowing that she's saved everyone she cared about and seen Yukari die.
Honestly, I can't think of a better way for anyone to go out.

>>50314920
But, what about Anon.

>>50314925
What about Anon?
He's better off without Reimu.

>>50314956
But they could at least make peace. D:
But on a more serious note, Reimu doesn't seem to think about Anon very much, which I think is just... sad.

>>50314925
NO ONE CARES ABOUT ANON
but in all seriousness, he was barely a character for most of the story. Obviously he couldn't free himself from the HSE and he couldn't be with Hana. He couldn't say no to anyone and he couldn't stay with Ran either.
But he's had no real agency and didn't really have many actual wants in the first place, so I don't really feel like including him here.

>>50314967
I feel like that's a bit wrong, since he has a character... but it's true being the breeding stud doesn't give him much agency.

>>50314963
I think it's very telling of Reimu's redemption that she doesn't think about Anon anymore. Their love doesnt exist anymore and though I imagine she holds feelings for him, she doesn’t let them blindside her to what's important now: Hana. The Reimu from the past would obsess over him, destroy what she built, but our Reimu let go and stayed with Hana to the very end.

>>50314978
His character is sitting around being sad his life is shit and getting raped.
Oh yeah, he also cares about Hana, so as long as Hana more or less gets a happy end its fine in my book.

>>50315023
I haven't seen things like that,though even if their relationships doesn't exist anymore, it felt coldhearted to me. Valid POV.

>>50315027
You forgot about RAAAAAAAAAAAN and Chen.

>>50315037
Ran wasn't pregnant so she wasn't protected by the plot.
She was always going to die.

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Thus, I lay claim.

Booming hills of flames extend to the tune of a gentle cradle of the hand, both mine holding Mom’s between the two of us. Her body had folded over, and a shrill cry rang from between her teeth, like the groaning of a dying animal. I couldn't focus on it over the screams of spanning flames, which rose mountain-like before me, blessings forgotten as I reached them the way I reached her before Koutei breathed his last; before Yukari made her fatal mistake. Almost immediately, pain. Consuming pain, strenuous pain. Pain that hatches only when the mind and the body die repeatedly; pain reserved for those that Yomi-no-kuni eternally torments.

The pain Mom's been shouldering by herself for the last hellish 45 minutes—the entire war—, the pain of dying seven times yet opposing Yukari's madness regardless.

It slices through me like the claws of a beast, feeding on something deep and invisible, a fountain of power that makes me gasp and tumble forward, eyes wide.

My eight chakras.

Mom's only arm impedes me from face-planting, her breath laborious and for just briefly, the flames had stopped eating her. One fiery wing unfurled wide, weak and trembly; a weight on my back tells me where the other is. But Mom doesn't mind that, a veritable roar leaving her tear-stricken self: “STOP, NOW!” It fades into a whimper loaded with frustration and ache. “… S-Stop it, Hana—it is not yours, this death. It's mine to bear. You don't deserve a second of my pain,” seconds are the correct terminology, for a long and perilous icepick had nestled on top of my chest, invisible and unbothered by the raging flames. Mom's the source of her power; I merely tap into it, a bucket against a sea. It wielded Mom 45 minutes of use as it ate through her chakras…

I have only 45 seconds until flames consume me.

45 seconds until I'm snuffed.

Everything I've fought for; sixteen years of pain—of watching her from behind, years of pure hell—, a mere hour of standing by Mom—erased. I'll die my first death in four seconds.

Body freezes; the weight is too much. My hands dive into the suicidal blessing, and it's a mere girl with her hands dipped into a profound pond. Tears thicken. It's not fair! I-It's not! Nor right, nor ideal. Things were wonderful for so little time. It's the woman who birthed me, not that twisted monster who wore her face; it's my family there, they hug me and say such sweet words. They love me like the world, and they're my entire world. It should've been given time to blossom… I would like her to see me, to drape me in a wedding gown, to hold the children I'll have someday and one day she'd lie on her bed, gray and wrinkled—happy—and we'd bid our farewells.

Hana, Reimu, Anon and Aunn.

The Hakurei family.

Three seconds until my first chakra is devoured. Hands holding hers quiver maddeningly, lungs do not welcome any air, and eyes are broad. I… I cannot welcome this death when I've promised Father I—we—would be back.

And then, those hands are pushed away so softly, and the claws of a destructive blessing recede. Body feels weak, limp; spent in a manner that no sleep would ever ward off. It hadn't been by choice. Mom pushed my hands away and severed the connection. Not a moment later, the ravenous blessing resumed consuming her.

I'm allowing this. My fear, my weakness.

“… W-Why…? Why can't you stay—why must you welcome death so easily?” Eyes meet hers, and a shame gnaws at my heart at witnessing how her red bow singes into embers and pitch-black threads go alight. “Why do you want to die, mom…?”

Her answer bears no hesitation: “I don't.” She places my hands on my lap and doesn't leave them. “I want to live, Hana. With you, your Father, and everyone else. I p-promised Marisa I'd live. That I'd see her children, and… Chen needs me. The poor girl has suffered so much, and she loves even more,” a rasp, the truth behind a facade, yet not the erosion of it. Justifications, and they filled me with dismay. “… There's nothing else I wish for other than to strip myself of these powers and be with whom I love. But I can't, Hana, and I won’t allow you to go down with me.” Words cleaved from stone sprouted from a mouth whose depths were permeated by orange and red fire. “I’m glad that I could live one last hour by your side, after being dead for two decades~!”

Tiredness, such acute tiredness.

“I don’t want this world… this world without you,” I whisper at her.

A burning hand pats the top of my head, embers to the billowing breeze—the fire bloom withers around us, too little food to keep it standing—, her gaze of crimson most soft. “It’s the hand you’ve been dealt. It isn’t the first time fate has given you a shitty hand… and I know it won’t be the last time you’ll overcome the odds.” She’d called her pride useless. The pride I hear renews the garden of my heart. “… Our beloved daughter, Hana Hakurei.”

Mom’s eyes linger beyond me.

I turn. Father watches.

A pull of quiet pain, and I turn back to her.

Mom’s gone.

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Embers dance in the night as the breeze swats them away. Away from me.

“… N-No… No, no, no… Come back to me—don’t l-leave me now…” Ushered whispers do nothing to halt the howling winds.

Body works beyond me, and I recover my footing, stumbling forward and reaching amidst the motes of dissipating warmth, my expression frozen with the lack of her closeness, grasping nothingness to nourish an emptier heart. The sky is dark and peppered with stars; the moon hangs above, and in every direction, Gensokyo has been burned by Yukari’s acidic war, barren and lonely and destroyed… But that’s not truth. Not anymore. Green grass sprouts to the tune of the oldest song, that of wind, and all around the trees toppled rise. Ashen wasteland under moonlight turns lush with reeds and flowers and every strand of natural diversity.

Gensokyo breathed anew.

I hold in cupped hands a fleeting mote of Hakurei-red fire, press it to my tattered ascot.

Eyes scurry around, watching the land be rewritten with bated breath, and soon they lay toward the gigantic stump of Sekai’s Tree, where Keine-sensei stands—others too, Kanako-sama and… Marisa-sensei and Father, whose arms carried the cat, a Gap disappearing behind him. I can’t bear to meet their eyes—, and she’s flanked by Toyosatomimi no Miko, who investigated the tree with interest, unlike sensei, who held her gaze with mine.

Her gaze showed nothing but pity for me. She knows. Gensokyo will know too.

Chen had watched Mom before she faded away; consumed by silent tears, she crawled out of Father’s arms and marched to the burned spot amidst newborn flora. Soon enough, she’d buckled to her knees, despondent; the Aunns clung to the fringes of Father’s clothes, watching the dead myrtle with wide, disbelieving eyes; Marisa-sensei couldn’t keep neither body, hands nor speech steady, eyes wild as reality came to her no matter from which angle she looked, meeting my gaze then… A hint of blame, passionate rage. Both crushed by frustrated tears.

Unable to bear it, she reluctantly hopped onto her broom and flew away.

Kasen-nee came to the charred patch on the ground and kneeled by the bakeneko, this blonde woman already on her other side, hugging Chen tenderly like a mother would. The oni’s chest rusted with dried blood, her only hand held the broken red blade, and tired eyes inevitably found my own. The same stare we shared before Yukari’s doom, infested with the promise we’ll grieve together soon. For now…

… Father approaches. My eyes strayed away from his.

Again legs moved by themselves, and I trudged onwards through the grass, eyes on the fiery mote pressed to the ascot—the last of her existence, soon to fizzle away—, tears fluttering without end and head so very heavy it was as if packed full of lead. The last of the bonfire that has guided me my whole life, either with her light or with her shadow. Not even the land remembers her sacrifice, artificially healed. Father’s stride is soon to catch up with mine. “… I’ve just stepped over a vine, Mom,” I coo at the mote. “It was green and, for a beat, I thought it was a snake. T-Those things scared me shitless when I was a kid… You were there to protect me the one time it was actually a snake. You were so cool then, so fast… What if there’s a s-snake here, Mom? There may be, and y-you won’t be here to protect me,” vision blurs, the mote bleeds into the dark night, and my hands uselessly fall to my side.

Yet, despite watching as the specks of red melted away, I kept wandering forward. One hand opens and my fingers leisurely brush past flowers and tall grass.

“… But that doesn’t matter, does it?” I ask.

The night's long, neither bonfire nor shadow. An unknown world.

I walk forward anyway.

“Even if there were a snake, I’d be able to defend myself. Defend Father, a-and… everybody else. I’d look so cool too, w-wouldn’t I…?” It’s freezing. Warmth is gone.

The war has come to a close. There’s only forward.

I’m a murderer. I ended the life of my sibling—stripped her of the chance I was lucky to be given.

I’m a monster who defiled her Father, willingly played right into a monster’s hand.

I let my mom die because I didn’t want to die her many deaths.

… And even so, she was proud of me, of what I’ve become. She understood the pain it was to grow into this person and away from dancing monsters and the wrath crested inside.

I stop amidst flowers; moonlight soaks me, the breeze whispers.

Mom believes I can protect the land.

… Her beloved Hana.

Three words I couldn’t spell, yet they boom to the forefront as talisman-ridden arms wrap around my neck and pull me close, warding off the cold. Father and I watch the stars and the dark, where Mom’s flames have faded towards. “… I love you.” I say.

I love my Mom; I love my Father. His hug tightens.

“We love you too, Hana,” he adds: “… Welcome back.”

And I cry. Wailing, ugly, tears pouring down like a storm.

Mom and Father hold me tight throughout it.

They love me—believe in me.

I am loved.

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>>50317345
>>50317339
with these chapters, I declare the war of the solstice and Arc 3 of the HSE completed~! What a crazy ride this arc has been, almost an entire year to see it through, and I couldn't be happier with finishing Hana's and Reimu's characters and setting up others like Chen's. I loved every second I spent writing and editing, and I already want to keep on going~I'll soon post my post-war and epilogue chapters, with some light teasing into the future, since I do intend to write part 2 eventually. Hope you've enjoyed thus far
more soon~!

>>50317353
>Part 2
Dear mother of god

>>50317339
>>50317345
Whelp. REIMUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU.

Assuming the land will even want a Hakurei Shrine Maiden anymore and won't go into... something.

>Her gaze showed nothing but pity for me. She knows. Gensokyo will know too.
Oh so now she care. Will they really?

>>50317353
>Part 2
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

>Renko died and Yukari got her hack powers because of it.
>>Ran died and Chen got her hack powers because of it.
>Yukari had the means but was too late to prevent Yuyukos death, which sent her into a spiral of despair.
>>Chen had the means but was too late to prevent Reimu's death...
It just doesn't end.

Now that we're at the end, I wonder if any of the old writers are still lurking here. Anyone writing epilogues?

>>50317487
>Assuming the land will even want a Hakurei Shrine Maiden anymore and won't go into... something.
Not like they'll be given a choice. Hana is the top dog now, has a whole platoon of reserve mothers with gods, a reporter and a sage and she's the hero who killed Yukari. She's untouchable, physically and politically.

>>50320669
Going by the Ao3 comments, Ayanon and Cirnoanon never stopped reading but I don't know if they've only been reading the ao3 uploads or have been commenting in the threads.

>>50320761
I mean, it's not like Keine cared.

>>50321329
Self-preservation above all else, a very jewish trait.

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>>50325081
>>50321329
she cares in her way, it was all part of the keikaku so Hana wouldn't fuck her siblings in the future

>>50326022
Her rapesiblings.

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>>50326067
we're past that station I'm afraid

>>50327990
HashtagJustice4Anon
HashtagPayTaxes2Anon

>>50329147
What do you mean taxes I'm not banking that dude.

>>50329162
Vergil should pay his taxes and child support.
But people who raped Anon should pay Anon's taxes and parent's support!

>>50329168
>rape
if he didn't want it he shouldn't have got an erection

>>50329186
I AM THE VAGINA THAT IS APPROACHING

>>50329186
You're supposed to be dead Yukari, fuck off.

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>>50329168
>>50329162
>>50329147
no need for taxes or remunerations in the Tiāncháo, just trust the plan, Anon is about to have the best years of his life~!

>>50329168
>Vergil
I wonder if we'll ever get another chapter of the HSE×DMC shitpost but this time is just Anon telling Vergil his daughter is dead.

>>50332881
>chapter of the HSE×DMC
Link please.

>>50332952
>https://archiveofourown.org/works/51884125/chapters/139731271
// Yukari/Maribel Sparda, 'Christmas' special 1-2
>https://archiveofourown.org/works/51884125/chapters/157915225
// Children's Day Special, FEATURING DANTE FROM THE DEVIL MAY CRY SERIES

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Looking around, it’s hard to believe that war had just razed the land. That in every direction the eyes would meet destruction. It’s not the case anymore thanks to Keine’s silent action, yet lingering above the flora, I watch with my back turned to the remaining stump of Sekai’s tree—somewhere out there, she’s alive—the most remarkable souvenir of the war: it shimmers hazily yet skirts the spectrum of purple. Northern Lights.

I’d seen them once when the Sengoku Period stirred too many memories and I traveled the world to escape that familiar bloodshed. Blankets of snow, stacked upon one another high; the darkest nights I’d experienced. Glistening white, dancing sky of beautiful lights. This shouldn’t be happening here, but it is, and the only person I can picture spraying that ink upon the canvas of night is Sekai.

Sekai exists; therefore, so does the war.

Of course, Gensokyo won’t need such a sight to know. Humans and Youkai will gaze upon the ghost of the Immortal Tree and know. Children, grown post the war, will read their history books, and they'll understand and misunderstand to their hearts’ content… And to think many of them won't know a world before her tree.

These kaleidoscopic lights are Sekai’s gift not to those that’ll come after, but to those that were here before she came. Those who fought hard—a teenager in her father’s arms amidst moonlight and flowers, passed out from exhaustion and a broken heart—, those who endured and have been tasked with great tribulations in the years to come—a silent child, present at the moment yet with eyes that are a thousand miles away. She kneels by smoldering dirt. The moonlight reveals behind her the shadow of a parasite that won’t let go.

… And those that are no longer here.

I stop before a monument of faded stone, its godly power sapped and repurposed—concentrated—, mimicking the form it had when it was Koutei’s implement and comprised the size of stacked buildings. His skeleton was gone for good, returned to the earth, but his sword had remained, and in it Okina had apparently found use, even if at a cost. “… I wonder what was going through your mind,” I speak to the wind, approaching the small seven-branched sword stabbed into the faded stone. It glows a familiar green, which merges, reflects and fights back Sekai’s purples to create a crashing ocean of stars and nebulas.

A charred skeletal hand holds its handle. It is crumbling.

“Beats me,” Suika says, though I don’t follow her voice, eyes on the reformed sword before they shift to the broken red blade I carry in my only hand…

My mistake, my errors—in the end, people still had to pay up for them.

A loud guzzle of sake echoes, and the smaller oni hops off from the stone pommel of Koutei’s faded sword with a sigh. “Maybe she wanted to do one last act of heroism before kicking the bucket, thinking that’d overshadow all the bad stuff.”

Flashes through the mind: red-and-white, pitch-black hair and crimson eyes.

Did it overshadow yours, Reimu?

Sins are mine—all mine—so is their weight.

… If only I…

A moment of silence unravels, we both looking at the skeletal hand gripping firmly the handle, as if burdened with infinite purpose that transcends flesh and neurons.

Suika drank from the mouth of the bottle, then poured some sake onto the bones before offering me the last sip. I drank it in respect and returned an empty bottle, which she tucked away into her sash. A hushful ritual, not worthy of a goddess’ status. But who am I to judge?

Most Makaians I killed won't ever get individual recognition.

“Ah, I should go now,” the moment dies with the oni’s words. She doesn’t maintain even a semblance of a smile. “There’s much to be done in the Underworld, and with the chaos, someone strong gotta be there to straighten people up.” The lax peace every layer of the land experienced in the twenty years Reimu upheld the Spellcard Rules has been shattered. Those who’d take advantage of that are many, more than she and Yuugi together would be capable of handling… Suika waves, walking away from me.

It’s time to take responsibility for my sins.

“I’ll see how I can help.”

She pauses and, unlike the reaction I was expecting, she scowls. “So that’s what it took…?” She’s not referring to Okina or the dancing lights—the war—but rather something that fills her with as much guilt as I have in me, a bloated thing, and warrants such a bitter remark. The blame for Reimu’s death is shared, and she sighs at the quiet I offer. “… I say such foolish things when I'm sober.” Suika sails into the night the next moment.

Failure mine, failure hers. Everyone who watched the slow descent into the monster—the fires that burned her family—and stepped away will feel this same crushing weight. It crowns my mountain, and eyes loom to the red blade…

No.

This is not the answer. I’m not that animal anymore.

I stab the cursed blade into the ground and, careful with the bone hand, take the seven-branched sword.

“Yo,” Okina waves at me.

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Any other time, I’d have had a more suitable reaction to the truly supernatural and unexplainable than just releasing the sword and taking a step back, a curse whispered under my breath. Maybe wide eyes and a gasp, the crane posture taken and body prepared… Unsurprisingly, the war had drained even that, and my reaction was milquetoast. “What?” I mumbled.

She cocks up one eyebrow and leaves her spot against the dull sword, her eyes briefly up to watch the Northern Lights. “… That doesn’t happen here often.” Okina—or whatever this is—says. She squats down and shifts to the sword and broken blade on the ground, supporting both elbows on her knees. Her eyes had landed on the skeletal hand, and a wave of shame coursed through me. “Did you do it? Or was it Yukari?” She asks, and, feeling no ill intent, I kneel and scoop up the seven-branched sword, eyes on her.

Is she a vengeful spirit—morphed into something else…? She appeared the second I touched the sword fashioned into the image of Koutei's. “What happened to you? Didn’t you die…?” I disregarded her question.

If Okina cares, she doesn’t show it. Or maybe I read her wrong. We have been estranged from one another for decades now. “I very much died,” she nods to the skeletal hand. “Took my all to unwind that Backdoor while channelling the remaining power of Koutei’s sword—it cleansed my faith, yes, but also everything else like a swooping tide… Still, I remain,” her hand waves aimlessly, and when nothing happens, she scowls. “Have lost authority over the Backdoor, however.”

Not a ghoul with her aspect, not a foolish Yamauba about to be crushed. I mirror her scowl and, with eyes on the small—in comparison—viridian blade, try to gauge a line of events. The Onikirimaru had been born from the blended and fermented souls of the agonized and zealots, perfected by Yukari’s understanding of barriers and boundaries… Yet, with Sekai’s presence, it lost its meaning to enthrall and became a mirror to harvested spiritual powers.

A sword of broken souls, channeled by a goddess with its core—her faith—tainted.

Okina watches me in silence, letting her hand trail the broken red blade of the Onikirimaru, the fingers sinking as if liquid. Eyes narrow: blades of grass hadn’t been crushed, they dance in tandem with the breeze; the lights of the Aurora Borealis skim through her body as if translucent. She’s not there in the physical world. She came to be only when I touched the rebuilt Onikirimaru.

Things tie together like a spider's web, and my frown creases. Okina grimaces. “By the look on your face, I don’t think I’ll like the answer…” Empathy swelled, and rather than using words, I focused on the seven-branched sword, searching it with that same focus from the rare occasions I’d channel the Gap… As expected, its sister sprung up, and one Backdoor opened. Okina watched with a glassy gaze.

I inspect the seven branches. The other seized powers are… gone. Had the sword lost its mirroring properties…? “Onikirimaru used you the same way you used it. Most likely to repair itself. A goddess’ soul and the leftover power of a dragon—fused,” I doubt that’s the extent of it, but alas. “… Do you feel different?”

“I’m dead, Kasen,” she clicks her tongue, soon deflating, her right hand gripping the face and a handful of hair. “I cannot fucking believe I was denied a proper death. I should’ve expected Yukari would’ve dragged me into you guys’ mess…”

I allow her the silence, parsing the situation myself. A moment ago, she was a casualty; now, she’s a prisoner inside a puzzle few can even look inside—I merely call upon the Gap; Yukari was born with it; Chen is too young and unexperienced, and…

… No. Sekai isn’t an opinion here.

The Backdoor I had opened shuts tight, and Okina looks at me, her posture lurched and expression dark. “Ah… I guess there’s a caveat in all of this: Gensokyo hasn’t lost the Backdoor so it won’t get swallowed by cosmic entities poking holes in the spaces that the Hakurei Barrier cannot patch.” She squints— “That responsibility is yours now,” —then chuckles. “Be glad you have a teacher who knows how that thing works.”

I attempted to share her smile, but my train of thought hadn’t halted and, inevitably, came to the other side of that coin. “… And the Great Hakurei Barrier must be upheld by someone who naturally wields the Gap. My limited capacities would be bandages on a wound.”

Her smirk fades into a deep sigh. She doesn’t know Sekai exists, and from the little I saw through Douji’s eyes, she and Chen seemed to have bonded. It’s not sweet medicine for either of us. “… That poor girl didn't even start mourning her losses. To have her manage something like the Hakurei Barrier would be torture, Kasen. There’s gotta be another way.”

There might be. Eyes go up to Sekai's Aurora.

Would Sekai accept that mantle after being bound by Yukari for so long…?

I doubt it.

… The thought of asking Chen to become the next Gap Sage leaves me ill.

My options aren't merciful.

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>>50335264
>>50335255
post-war chapters now, because the last punch - or in our case, the gohei lawnmower - solves only the questions of violence~
a few more chapters of tidying things up, and we'll have a small time-skip
more soon!

>>50335255
>Children, grown post the war, will read their history books, and they'll understand and misunderstand to their hearts’ content
That's gonna be hard to misunderstand a rape hotel.

>>50335264
>Have lost authority over the Backdoor, however.”
It's Okinover.

>… The thought of asking Chen to become the next Gap Sage leaves me ill.
Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

>>50335824
>That's gonna be hard to misunderstand a rape hotel.
No shot it doesn't get heavily censored or outright changed into something eise.

>>50335994
That would be the Unit 731 or Rape of Nanking of Gensokyo, and God that would be infuriating.

Add to that the possibility of the kids fucking each others and this is just

>>50335994
who's gonna censor it though? yukari's dead and the place basically only actually existed for her
I doubt many of the youkai who went there actually care much about that

>>50336017
Keine and her groopies, who else?

>>50335271
Okina should have died and stayed dead.

>>50336046
Let's ritually sacrifice her to make RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN or REIIIIIIIIIIIIMU come back!

>>50336664
Komachi ain't letting another one escape, Eiki would take away her job and give to Kutaka.

>>50335999
The Japanese have a track record of twisting their deeds during wars, so it'd be in character for it to happen.

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I’d long fantasized about the day Reimu would die. Butchered by a Youkai she was too tired to deal with; perhaps she’d hit her head while drunkenly flying, plummet to a lake and drown. Frozen outside during winter; alcoholic coma into cardiac arrest. Each thought on that venue was tinged with shame, but it was offset by the hammer of retribution and the hope for a better tomorrow just beyond her claws. A nagging in the back of my mind would sober such thoughts—she’s too strong to lose a fight; she’s too sturdy—and they’d then fade back into mixed boredom and dread of everyday life…

… Never did I put an ounce of thought into what I would feel after her death.

Myself from three years—one year. Four seconds inside that cage, one second outside. So much time lost—wouldn’t have ever expected to be filled with hollowness after watching Reimu go up in flames.

No happiness, not a modicum of relief. I'd felt that hearing Yukari was dead.

Finally.

Yet, Reimu’s death didn’t give; it only took away even more. A seething rage not mine threatened to erupt, denied by the strength of the girl sleeping on my lap.

Eyes shifted from the odd sight that’d taken the skies back to Hana, who had collapsed amidst her spell of tears, flabby and stretched as if a rag wrung far beyond her limitations. Both Aunns had tried to cuddle her and lighten her load during the maelstrom of tears but ended up only sharing in her dejection. They cried and cried, and now they’re out. Hana’s hair is in disarray, her clothes are worn-out and her ascot has been reduced to frayed threads kept together by a miracle. The old clover hairpin I made her is nowhere to be seen. I see that grisly arm scar from before this war—a jagged welt that’d gladly healed properly…

Talisman-clad hand touches the scar, and I wince.

I can feel the icy breeze and the real dirt and flowers around and beneath me as well. They’re all real. This is the freedom I longed for. With protections in place to veil from the world this raging furnace, booming with hatred and hunger and red with anger—a small patch of forest, reduced to ashes when the fire within came out of control—, I can’t feel the warmth of Hana’s skin.

Hugging Chen earlier felt like holding a moving doll, porcelain surface cold, and it took her shaky little head—she’s lost so much; so much I cannot give—pressing against my chest for me to get moving…

… If I’d arrived one second earlier, Chen with her new powers could’ve…

“Hey,” Kanako’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I look away from Hana’s sleeping face to the goddess who’d kneeled beside me. Tired and spent, yet beaming with relief. It irks me, seeing that smile. I keep it to myself, not keen on delving on why I feel that way. “Would you like some help with those freeloaders?” It’s a snickering, so tender tone, her hand lowering to stroll across Hana’s hazelnut strands, her red eyes—lighter than Reimu’s, the color unmatched—softening.

“It’s fine. They need their rest,” I tell her.

“Make it all of us,” she sighs, looking up towards the Aurora Borealis. “… It’s been a long day and much longer months. For her, and for you—especially for you.” A flare of bitterness. Already? Can’t that wait, if only for today? The taller woman reads that quiet burst, her cheeks reddening. “S-Sorry, I must’ve overstepped. I thought…”

“No, no,” I pacify her, chastising that reaction of mine. The woman fought for me against all odds; rudeness is her reward? “I understand, it’s just… What Yukari did to me—to my daughter—isn’t what I want to spend my first day of freedom on,” before I could think better, one talisman-clad hand joined hers on Hana’s hair, trying to feel something yet receiving nothing. I bite back the distaste. Not here. The goddess pats my hand, as if to keep me anchored. “Give me a week. A week should be enough. Not to heal, just to detox a little…” Hana squirms at our combined touch but doesn’t wake up. She’s such a heavy sleeper…

Takes a lot from me to not have tears flow to the forefront.

Kanako gasps, but holds my hand throughout…

Not n-now.

—Reimu's dead—

The thought surges. I can't suppress it.

—The mother of my child. Hana had faith in Reimu—

I search the familiar tree for Chen. She isn’t by the burnt patch on the ground. That blonde tsuchigumo must’ve taken her away. Chen loved Reimu, Ran… Yukari.

She's lost so much…

—R-Reimu's d-dea—

“Hello.”

Suddenly, my head is void. Emotions quell. Only a void. Before me stands someone I know was in the vicinity yet paid little attention to. Keine-sensei looks… different. The stern teacher—the desperate woman—is gone, and two demonic horns sprout from her head; those soft eyes, however, stop me from feeling threatened. Kanako’s hand holds tighter for whatever reason.

Why is she tense? It’s just Keine-sensei.

She’s a good person.

“Hello,” I answer her, staring from below.

“My apologies for disrupting you two,” Keine-sensei smiles coyly. “But I’d like to speak to you, Anon.”

“… Okay,” I say.

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>>50345251
could edit only one tonight. Rest of the batch tomorrow
more soon~

>>50345251
Reimuu didn't think about him at all before she was gone, Anon can't stop thinking about her after she's gone...

>>50347393
For Reimu, beating, raping, and making a man fall in love with her was tuesday,
But for Anon she was his entire world.

>>50347691
Fuck... He's never falling in love again, is he?

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Words that leave me usher a most unnatural sensation, feelings quelled and trampled by this sudden wash of… Calm. The raging furnace silences temporarily, its influence melting down to a mere whimper. A cowering beast. What is it afraid of?

My heavy heart is released from Reimu’s grasp—her beautiful red eyes, her pallor-white skin, her pitch-black hair—, mind focusing solely on Keine-sensei, who looks at me rather embarrassed, her gaze on my hand on Kanako’s. I pull it away, and the goddess’ frown creases. “No, Anon.” She bites with narrowed eyes. Why is she contesting my words…? It’s what I said. I meant them. “You’ve just told me you’re in no mental headspace to do anything but simmer in your freedom; Keine can wait—”

“—She’s right, Anon-san,” Keine-sensei interjects and takes a step back, the silver dome that's her hair framing the moon high above. She looks so very natural with those horns. Her words, methodical and loud, quieted Kanako’s, who was trying to keep her voice down not to wake up the girls… who didn’t even so much as twitch in their sleep? “My anxieties don’t supersede your health, physical or otherwise, Anon-san. I sought you now because, for the foreseeable future, I cannot realistically assume I’ll have free time to deal with individual matters. Gensokyo depends upon me at every turn with Yukari’s war over,” she smiles, the patent weariness of the working soul reflected there alongside every shade of glimmering purple. “I’ve become ruler of the Human Village after Hieda lost himself and vied for its destruction. As a citizen, you’re my responsibility now, and I’ll be there for you, Anon-san.”

Comes to mind the image of this same woman sitting across the table, locked in a desperate bind, crying and shaking. Hunched over, begging for an escape out of her lie. I hear no falsehoods in the words she’s just spoken, and confidence dances like the Aurora.

I believe in her.

Kanako doesn’t. “Where were you during the war, then?” She gets up and moves to stand between us. “You didn’t fight for him like we all did, even when I and others fought for you in your war!” Attempts to keep control over her temper were audible, yet the length of the fight seemed to have loosened the tongue.

“You're right, regretfully. Besides protecting the people of the Human Village, who are now waiting beyond this realm of time, I was terrified of Yukari and the threats she’s laid upon my family.” Keine-sensei meets her words with ease, looking at the taller goddess from below. Her words take away the air from me. What…? “She’s told me she’d have my twin babies eaten had I shown any intent of fighting on your side,” her eyes shift from Kanako to me, and they’re so very sad. “I wasn’t, and still wouldn’t be if she were alive, strong enough to defy her. You’re a parent too, Anon-san. You understand doing everything for the children—even cowering in fear as people much stronger than you fight your fight.”

Kanako hisses, yet soon quiets. Even if I can’t see her lips, I know she’s looking for a rebuttal, but before it could come out, I reach forward a talisman-clad hand and hold her autumnal skirt. “It’s fine, Kanako! It’s fine,” the goddess bites her tongue and looks at me, confused. I show her a smile, whatever damaged it might be. “… Could you take Hana and Aunn to the Moriya Shrine, please? Give them a bed, a warm room,” my gaze turns to Keine-sensei, who had tried to conceal her sigh of relief. “I’d like to hear her.”

Her frown deepened, and she looked every bit displeased, a moment of silence stretching. Kanako is concise in her thoughts, even in the heat of feelings.

Soon, she reined herself in and let her protective flair whittle down. “Fine,” red eyes meet Keine’s. “Don’t push him, and be cautious of what you ask. If I come to know you’re looking to take any sort of advantage from him…” Kanako finishes; the trailing of that last sentence is all the implication needed.

Keine-sensei merely tittered, long silver locks bouncing. “You treat the man as if he's made of sugar~! I promise my intentions are wholesome,” my cheeks go red, as do Kanako’s, who'd choked and yelped, the latter cut midway through by one hand. She’d forgotten the sleeping ones— “They won’t wake up.” Sensei says matter-of-factly, her smile unchanged…

… Still, shivers run up my spine. So very certain—truth.

She did something to them. Nothing bad.

Yes, nothing bad.

Neither Hana nor Aunn woke up as Kanako effortlessly scooped them into her arms and shoulders. “Bring him back safely to the shrine,” Kanako says, to which Keine-sensei nods, and before lifting flight, the goddess found my eyes. “… Take care.” I nod to her and before long she’d slipped into the night, unseen even with the dancing purple lights cresting the sky.

Keine-sensei and I remained, our eyes meeting. “It's good to see you well, Anon-san.” She smiled kindly and stretched out a hand…

She's a good person.

… I took it after little deliberation, and she helped me to my feet.

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A dry chuckle trudges its way out. “I wouldn’t say well, Keine-sensei, not yet… Free is enough for now,” words bitter and with no gravitas, but I say them anyway, eyes narrowing as they wander to her pale hand on mine, only now noticing her clothing. A cloak darker than Aya’s feather embraced everything but her head, hair, two hands and naked feet, outlined by purple hues shining from above. Why such clothing…?

The question slips from my mind as she hums, pulls away her hand, and walks towards the tall vegetation unbothered.

“It is the minimum you deserve, but I doubt Hana-chan will settle for minimums—the way she’s fought the Solstice and, even before that, in the war Hieda waged against me… She’s a wonderful girl, Anon-san,” she nods, though I don’t follow immediately. She spoke of Yukari’s war as if— “Accept my apologies: the matters I want to talk to you aren’t wholly wholesome.” The small smile doesn’t vanish, only remains. Something under my skin tells me it shouldn’t have remained. It isn’t the demonic furnace, for it whimpers deep inside.

Suddenly, the air had grown stale, as if injected with cedar smoke.

Papyrus laden with inverted text danced under her fingers and the darkness of night.

What…?

“I took the liberty to keep our conversation private, of course. Not entirely dulled it to the Wind Goddess, but she’ll hear something different from what we’ll discuss…” After a moment of silence, Keine-sensei looks away sheepishly. “S-sorry for how blunt I’m coming across—underhanded tactics such as these aren’t my forte.”

“W-Why…” Words escape me. She isolated me from Kanako and made sure our conversation wasn’t heard in its truthfulness. Heart clenched horribly, dread surged, before words emerged: she’s a good person. “… Why are you doing this? What angle are you looking for with… me?”

Keine-sensei must have a good reason.

“Nothing that seeks either to injure or abuse you. Rather, I want to help you and, in turn, help myself build peace for Gensokyo in a much smoother manner.” Her nervousness was gone with the lack of screams for help or utter fear from me—I feel so calm. I probably shouldn’t be… and yet I am—, and she turned her face to the rows of flowers and lush grass. “Would you walk with me, Anon-san?” Her words enter through one ear and leave out the other, for my eyes had focused on the only distinct characteristic of her dark cloak: a massive, burning blue swastika centers it.

H-Huh…?

Am I… missing something here? This is not the usual symbol the religious carry…

… No, no. I’m probably just not aware of something spiritual or cultural that would explain this— “You’re not mistaken, Anon-san. It’s a Nazi swastika.” She clarifies and starts her pace forth. Shocked, I awkwardly follow behind her, words not forming cohesively. What the hell has happened since Yukari locked me up…? “I apologize for the shock. It wasn’t my intention.” I nod along, waiting for any explanation. Keine-sensei seemed ready to offer it: “… Perhaps you think me a deviant for parading on my back a symbol that, for the collective subconscious outside Gensokyo, is unanimously of hatred? Perhaps you agree with the meaning it was used for?” She asks questions, yet a squeeze of my heart impedes any answer. “Whatever shape your thoughts may take, I ask you forego them, for the purpose I carry it is… healing.” I listen, walking on automatic. Who’s this person? The Keine-sensei I remember isn’t anywhere in the words she speaks. “Healing of fractures left by fear and lack of union between us all, which led to suffering—your suffering.” Such sadness accompanied her words.

“I don’t understand…” I whisper, lost in the invisible threads pulled in the dark. What is the point of her urging to have a conversation with me? How does helping me even help her government whatsoever…?

“I’m seeking to heal Gensokyo, Anon-san. This symbol on my back already represents safety and peace for the people who believe in me—it meant hate, war; now, refuge.” She breathes in, psyching herself. “… One day my children will look upon it and feel serene, knowing that symbol only as the cultivation of long-lasting peace… A peace, however, that is threatened by the truth of the HSE and Yukari’s deeds.”

An ice needle pounces from the dark of night and presses its tip against my chest.

The HSE is gone, buried under Sekai’s Tree; Yukari is dead…

… But I remain.

A threat.

Our eyes meet, and my limbs go numb. The stale air around us, the icy breeze.

—Nine fluffy tails; beautiful red eyes. Hana hugs me tight—

No one will hear me if I scream.

… Then a hand pats my hair. “It frustrates me how easily you jump to conclusions. You expect the worst from people. It protects you…” Keine-sensei’s tone matches her words: doleful. Her hand withdraws. “What I want, Anon-san, is to protect our Gensokyo, and that includes you too,” firmness, despite the sadness. “But to keep our peace stable, I’ll need the truth of the HSE twisted… and I believe you can help me.”

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>>50349791
>>50349789
the whys and hows come in the next chapters
more soon~!

>>50349791
...Could haven't just...stuck with a manji, huh?

>>50349859
Zero aura.

I suspect that, depending on what exactly happens in the next chapter or so, Keine speaking to Anon will be the point where my epilogue diverges from Rananon's.

>>50350103
Wouldn't it be cool if it diverged earlier so Reimu didn't die and you could imply she and Anon got back together and had steamy reconciliatory sex? Crazy I know haha...

>>50351615
Clearly that Anon isn't going to write that.
However, you can write that if you want to try.

>>50350103
What writefag are you?

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Twist the truth…?

What aspect of Yukari's war, her actions to me, presents itself as most dangerous? A worn-out mind works through half-thoughts and explanations that lead to dead ends, my mouth shut. Speaking with nothing worth saying never got me much beyond another wound to tend to. Some are there for things I never said…

The biggest has the shape of Reimu Hakurei. A piece I cannot get anymore of a puzzle that may never be repaired.

I spoke after the silence had grown weird. “… Okay,” my eyes avoided hers.

—That includes you—

I wish I could believe those words. So sweet.

“… You are unaware of the truth.” These aren’t as sweet, but they feel assured. It’s not a shot in the dark.

She knows.

“Unaware of what?” I ask, steps halted amidst a sudden shower of dread.

“Anon-san,” Keine-sensei looks me in the eye, having stopped a few paces ahead. Dread booms. The stale odor of cedar; images that flooded but dissipated after a gentle hand ran through my strands. This moment feels like the most important in my whole life. I wish silently it may never come; I truly do. “… Counting the few hundred who have died in this month’s major conflicts or by natural causes, you have fathered an estimated one thousand five hundred children since you were trapped inside the HSE.” But it indeed does. It arrives to me.

It is never going away now that it is here.

A blink. What is that number? One thousand and five hundred? I don’t have one thousand and five hundred fingers to count all those—I have roughly one hundred and fifty thousand individual hairs tacked to my scalp.

Three with Marisa, some with Aya… Yukari died.

I have as many children as 1% of the hairs I have on my head.

The silver moon hangs, Keine-sensei’s red eyes watch me—there’s no lie—, the Aurora dances across the dark of night. The breeze has chilled considerably; stars twinkle, their visibility great tonight… I…

… I-I…

I feel nothing.

One talisman-clad hand presses against my chest. Nothing but the void—familiar void: it had devoured the screaming storm borne from the cinders of the woman who ruined me… “What did you do to me?”

No hesitation: “I've eaten the future where you experience those powerful emotions that would’ve hindered our talk,” lungs fill up, then empty. The void remains. “They’re still there, and you'll feel them all at once when I return them to you… I h-haven’t seen their contents,” she adds.

“You said… hundreds died?”

“Yes.”

“… I see.”

She nods, perhaps in respect, before resuming. “The nature of their existence poses a threat to our peace, as not only are they blessed by the Hakurei God and thus create a religious imbalance within Gensokyo, targeting one of our most important organizations—the Hakurei Shrine—but also the biological and spiritual pool of our society has been forever tipped. Should no efforts be taken to, at minimum, minimize and, at best, eradicate the imbalance, there is no guarantee that Gensokyo won’t be plunged into uncontrollable warfare of bastards vying for control of the Hakurei Shrine.”

I nod obliquely, staring at nothing ahead. Her words are absorbed. Processed. Whatever weight they might have had on me is rendered moot by the elephant whose foot crushes my chest. “… That’d be bad.”

It’s so cold; it’d be nice if I could hug Chen now.

I want to cook Hana and Aunn something.

I want my bed.

“With the other side of my power—that being the revision of the past, which I ask you to keep a secret. It’s a power only a few I trust know the ins and outs of,” I nod. It doesn’t feel like a choice, but sensei smiles appreciatively. “I can make sure the genetic pool remains mostly unaffected by replacing your DNA with other Japanese from history at large. It won’t be perfect, but it will serve its purpose as a cover for the bigger problem.” A surge of protectiveness courses inside my veins, and Keine-sensei’s eyebrows furrow.

My mouth gapes, closes, then opens again: “Don’t… don’t change Marisa’s or Aya’s,” frantic whispers. “… I want them.”

“Very well,” she says simply. The cold subsides. “But the Hakurei God is beyond my power’s reach, which leaves the blessings his bloodline imparts unaltered.” She finishes.

With the blessings around, a war for the shrine is always a possibility.

… And going by Reimu's and Hana's powers, Hakurei blessings are powerful. Too powerful. A war of bastards would destroy Gensokyo. “What do you plan…?”

“A cover-up story,” she frowns. “One that takes you off one spotlight, and thus danger, and steers you into another… And I’ll need you to help me sell it to those whom my power cannot reach—beyond the Hakurei God, an example would be Kanako-san. Even if I alter the contents of the past, those beyond me would retain knowledge of the truth.”

“How does the cover-up story go?” I really want Hana.

“… You're the sole survivor of many whom Yukari kept trapped in the HSE and, because of your mettle, you've become hermit-like and capable of bestowing blessings—which we will stifle.”

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>>50354015
kinda crazy how big some litters can be. A rabbit can conceive 5-8 in one pregnancy, white wolves 4-7… crazy, crazy stuff
next Keine/Anon chapters are the last
more soon~!
>>50350103
can't wait to see what you have in store, anon~! Good writing!

>>50354015
>My mouth gapes, closes, then opens again: “Don’t… don’t change Marisa’s or Aya’s,” frantic whispers. “… I want them.”
Sweet..

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>>50355419
you can't expect a man not to protect his favorites~!

>>50358617
Why were they green?

>>50361336
Anon has strong genes.

>>50361370
Anon is green?

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>>50361544
Anon...

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

>>50338675
It's less 'letting her escape" and more like accidentally giving her time for her the time to do her anti-death BS.

>>50342111
More like, a pattern.

>>50345251
>a mountain of love
That's two mountains actually.

>>50347393
I've been telling it since day one!

>>50365151
>I've been telling it since day one!
That's just what you get when dealing with a spoiled shrine maiden like Reimu.

>>50345251
>Why is she tense? It’s just Keine-sensei.
>She’s a good person.
About that...

>>50349789
>“I’m seeking to heal Gensokyo, Anon-san. This symbol on my back already represents safety and peace for the people who believe in me—it meant hate, war; now, refuge.” She breathes in, psyching herself. “… One day my children will look upon it and feel serene, knowing that symbol only as the cultivation of long-lasting peace… A peace, however, that is threatened by the truth of the HSE and Yukari’s deeds.”
Oh that bitch.

>>50354015
That motherfucking bitch.
God I wish she could die.

>>50365200
There's a reason ZUN implied she's a Lunarian plant in WOotHS.

>>50366744
Kill her. Kill her. Kill her.
I'm so pissed, it's not enough that she got to brainwash Anon, but she got to pull this shit.

>>50366840
Kill her yourself, I'm not writing for this.
If you want to see her dead, put your prose where your mouth is.

>>50366840
At least she's trying to solve the problem and not turning a blind eye to it. That's foresight that'll prevent another Hakurei or Yukari situation.

>>50367011
That's just another way to turn a blind eye to it.
Is that what you said when Japs reponsible for Unit 731 killed themselves?

>>50367644
Not really? The nippon special didn't fix anything, but /here/ Keine says she'll solve the genepool problem and the Gensokyo bastards battle royale.
Those two problems could be solved by killing every bastard, by the way.

>>50371662
A-anon, that question was ironic, I know I'm not talking to a sociopath.

But yeah, it's just running away from the problem by saying "lie about, magic it away, and let's not mention it ever again". It's ultra cheap.
Plus, it's a way to backtrack. The lessons learned about kindness are unlearned.

>>50371671
As someone who didn't really care for the Keine storyline in the first place and especially didn't care once it got to the whole village festival swastika 'let's just do a whole quasi-finale right before the actual finale so everyone's already fatigued by it', I don't think the bastards problem and all that shit should even be acknowledged. Let it be a problem for the writer of a year from now or whenever this supposed part 2 starts up. It's just too big of a can of worms for what's supposed to be the epilogue and wrapping up of an extremley long story
I mean, if I could go back to the start of the HSE with the knowledge of where it's going, it suddenly doesn't really make sense why everyone's allowed unprotected sex with anon anyway. Yukari never struck me as someone who'd want to share. Sure, she might've let others fuck him just to toss them a bone, but she'd surely have manipulated the borders of sterility or something and not let anyone but herself get pregnant..

>>50371671
It makes sense in universe even if it's really cheap from a writing perspective.

>>50371790
But the can of worms was always there. Breeding. Pun non intended. That's what get me. It's always ignoring the problems until it's too big, and now it's Deus Ex Machinaed away? I find that frustrating.

>>50371883
>even if it's really cheap from a writing perspective.
ikr?

>>50371884
All of the breeding sex is more or less a genre convention. Sometimes things like that are better left unaddressed.
That's just my point of view.

>>50371790
>spoiler
As with every major plot point in the HSE, it started as a joke to see how much further we could push the Hana trauma, corruption and temptation. Then le slippery slope commenced.
I wonder what would've happened if we took the DMC route instead and the rape wars were the seasonal extras.

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>>50375429
The DMC Route? Devil May Cry?

Epilogue first draft completed. Probably won't satisfy anyone except me though.
20,000~ words

>>50376212
Kill nazis. Kill Citizen Keine.

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Amidst the numbness, the information is fished out and parsed: this is it. If there had been many but one survivor, I wouldn’t have to fear predators—memories threaten to surface: beasts, claiming and ravaging. The memories are halted by an unseen hand—and with the blessings stifled, Hana wouldn’t have to worry about defending the shrine, and… And so many other boons, to my family and to Gensokyo. It’s a good deal. Far too good.

… No, it’s something else entirely—it is convenient.

Nothing in life that is convenient is without clause—a blessing to keep Hana alive cost me what little else remained of Alice Margatroid.

But… there shouldn’t be anything to worry about here. It’s a deal tailored by Keine Kamishirasawa, protector of the village, someone who sat across from me and showed such vulnerability and, equipped with what I could give, fashioned herself a… life. She has children, like I do; she’s a working soul, like I was before Yukari dragged me into that place.

Sensei’s a good person with a good plan.

All I gotta do is help her. “Okay, I can help with Kanako-san and… others, I guess.” I say, the headache drowned so I could lend her a smile, which Sensei reciprocated and followed with a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Anon-san. Without you, the path to a Gensokyo safe for your children and mine wouldn’t open as smoothly,” whispered under the stars and the Aurora. It sounds genuine. “There’s a lot else to talk about, of course. Some details I left out to respect exhaustion, but I do promise you'll learn about them in time. I’ll contact you when that time comes.” She marches toward me with nonchalance… Though in the dark, her coat swims, flashes of blue fire peering alongside purple washing from up above, as if to reveal something in hiding.

A chill runs up my spine, eyes suddenly water—not from sadness: my heart is yet to feel—, and breath hitches. For a brief and sudden moment, I meet her eyes, and that which hides in the dark pounces not to kill or claw, but with a stretched hand, waiting for my input.

Red eyes, gentle eyes. A question pops up, and though there’s an attempt to conceal it—there is? Why is there an attempt? It’s not me doing the attempt—, it urges anyway to the forefront: “… W-Why are you doing all this, Sensei? What do you… gain from having so much control?”

It’s not just for peace; there wouldn’t be a need for secrecy otherwise. The truth, I wonder. It's not bad; why hide it?

Her hand paused. The gentleness faded away. Horns mighty and towering; her mouth straight, if abruptly. She’d let her guard down; she didn’t expect me to see anything. Too many people I had to read, serve, in that wretched place…

S-She’s not like the patrons and monsters and their deeds.

Keine’s a good person…

… But she’s hiding something important.

“Anon-san,” she looks away—no, not away. She’s looking at someth— “Gensokyo doesn’t exist anymore. Not as you knew it before,” my breath hitches. What…? “It is a fractured place, and that entices those who’d ache uncontrollably for power, which there are many. The peace before the HSE—or rather, the quiet—has been replaced with unrest. Many have waited for this very state of affairs…” She relaxes and eyes are back on me. Gentle, kind. Pleading. “Gensokyo needs a centralized power to remain together and steady against the tide of whatever shape invaders and warmongers may take, be they Lunar or Hellish or other.”

Pieces fall together. It is the truth, raw. “You believe… you are that power?”

She nods, then: “Do you?”

Long silence, stretched silence. The headache returns in full force as that one question sends me lurching among thoughts, a sense of great drain obfuscating all else briefly. Hana can’t; she’s mourning. She’s my little girl. Kanako-san and Suwako-san? They’re outsiders; what’d that mean to the Hakurei Shrine—to Hana…? Those of the Myouren Temple suffer the same thing… Kasen-san is beyond devastated from the war; I saw so little of her yet saw much less behind her eyes. Chen now has the Gap… Gods, t-that poor girl has to carry the burden of that terrible power…

Mind loops and loops, the headache remains a pounding torture, heart had stilled. Answers were sought in the Aurora Borealis, purple as Yukari’s eyes; it offered nothing.

If Ran were here, I’d trust her to keep Gensokyo safe. She’d know what to do.

Keine-sensei’s hand catches mine. “Trust me, Anon-san; if you can’t, trust that I love my children and would do anything for them, even bear the weight of protecting all of Gensokyo,” follows a pause. “Please.”

A moment of hesitation. The furnace whimpers.

… But Ran’s not here, and the danger is.

Someone dependable, strong, must be in position to deal with it—someone to lighten Hana’s responsibilities, who won’t demand from Chen something she shouldn’t have to give.

I trust Sensei.

She’s a good person.

I swallow a bundle of nothingness, squeeze her hand, and then… I nod. “… T-Thank you,” she smiles. “Rest now.”

Before me, Sanae Kochiya.

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Hand falls to my side, eyes on the dimly lit space ahead. Delivered to the Moriya Temple, as promised… Eyes move up to the Northern Lights—such a beautiful sight; no wonder humans would find it bearable living in some of the most inhospitable areas of the world—, and my brows furrow. Had these lights helped him, or was it just a lapse of my attention…? “Strong little man, that one.” Miko places herself to my side, not an invisible spectator anymore—a strange woman would’ve made Anon uncomfortable, maybe uncooperative. Having his mind not acknowledge her was the right move. “What happened, Kamishirasawa?” She asks.

“Don’t underestimate him. He survived that place; inserted friendliness had its limits, which I ignored and thus had to commit more than what I wanted…” Despite the frustration, I keep hold of the block on his future. A meltdown now without someone to support him could be bad, set off the Wind Goddess. I run a palm across my face, letting it fall to the kashira of Kusanagi underneath the fabric of the cloak. She listens carefully. “Won’t happen again.”

That’s what she was looking for. “A teacher would know best that mistakes are the way to learning—without them, what thrill would there be in getting things right?” She shrugs, but it’s met by a mere hum. My stomach feels hollow after that interaction. So much pressure, so much demand put on a man whose everything has been sacrificed again and again to people who exploited and lacerated his soul until that… Thing was born, whatever it is. It’s frustrating how out of my reach it was, caged deep in his heart by love-made-magic. Just witnessing that peace amidst the black hole of his heart felt like desecration. Even in death, Reimu was a bulwark to her family.

Silently, I lift flight to the Bamboo Forest of the Lost.

I need my babies, Mokou. They remind me why I am doing what I am doing.

“Hm…” Miko followed, flying as if surfing through the air, her back to the ground and eyes on the Aurora. She taps her closed fan against her chin rhythmically. “… You think he’ll resist your powers again, now that his subconscious mind knows how to?”

“It is possible…” He’s my only bridge to reach those beyond me and who would be against me. Without his support, convincing the gods who love him and his family would be a challenge.

“That complicates things. A lot,” she doesn’t sound worried. I cast her a sidelong glance, searching her half-expression for any thoughts. Toyosatomimi no Miko is unreadable as ever, tenaciously halting me from reading her any further than that blush fit a few weeks ago. “… But we know it doesn’t have to be complicated, Kamishirasawa, and it’s rather hypocritical of you to avoid the much more suitable approach to our problem when you prattled unendingly to the man about peace.” Frown turns to a scowl, and I watch her under the silver moonlight.

It’s all I can do, this ugly look. She is right, after all.

There wouldn’t be a Hakurei Shrine dispute if there weren’t a Hakurei Shrine.

Anon and Hana leave Gensokyo and never return, looking for a new beginning outside the realm that concocted all of their nightmares. Without them here and without someone versed in the Hakurei branch of Shinto, the shrine would fall into disarray, making it no effort to have it torn down before the first bastard even turns one. No shrine for bastards to vie for; the God would either go dormant or follow Hana outside Gensokyo, and my list of problems to deal with would substantially shrink…

All it'd take would be to rewrite the soil of their thoughts so it bears strongly that seed, which sprouts and is then harvested.

Hana and Anon spend their lives outside—a man, denied his children—, and Gensokyo knows peace.

Miko stares at me in her smug silence, though I find solace that my attempts at reading her are bearing fruit, for a note of personal investment resides in there. She’s not only seeing our government—she’s seeing us all… Thus, I steady myself and shake my head. “This power of mine won’t ever be used to enslave people into action. Hatred and fear will be dispelled; they’ll let me close… But either agreement or refusal would come unbidden from the heart. Anon-san longed for someone who could help him and Gensokyo, and so he accepted me. I won't force him.” A pause, the forest comes into view. One hand reaches into the cloak, towards the sword of Kusanagi.

It touches briefly Hieda’s.

… I'll never be like that madman.

He dragged his family to hell with him, shaped his daughter to look as hideous as he did. My children and my spouse will enjoy a Gensokyo of peace, protected by me, away from the hatred and fire that twisted Hieda-sama.

Whatever it takes, but only when it takes. Life is too precious to be reduced to puppetry.

Toyosatomimi no Miko stares long at me, and a sliver of purple flashes across her eyes of molten gold. “Understandable.” She seems disappointed. “… Honor your high standards, Kamishirasawa. It’d be a disgrace to see them fail.”

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>>50376836
>>50376829
this is it for now; next we'll have Chen
more soon~!
>>50376212
eagerly waiting for it!

>>50376829
>>50376836
Bitch. Liar. Hypocrite. Nazi.

>>50378691
But not wrong.

>>50381093
Begone Japan.

>>50378691
I-I finally get it... .
https://youtu.be/zM5ZTpYl8Co?si=QUT8x9AlMBj4aeil

>>50383511
Does she wear a short skirt and a long jacket?

>>50384548
No, but she'd tours Gensokyo whilst picking up slack, so it balances out.

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Time had stopped, or perhaps I’ve lost my place in its flow. It wouldn’t be the first time—it would for me, not for her—, with thunder and rain and a dead cherry blossom before me, dirt caked under my fingernails and knees scraped against the gravel. Blood dried: rancid, gooey. Black paint on my frame that wouldn’t ever wash off, tainting. Yukari, at least, had a body she could bury that terrible night.

There’s nothing left of Ms. Reimu, only what the wind carried: tiny motes of fire, oxidized and repurposed in the grand scheme of things. With her, she took what else remained of me…

Time had stopped; it stopped when the Gap unfurled, and I had a quarter blink to process her death. Had I just reacted in time, I would’ve stopped it… But the Gap cannot change the past.

It's the only impossible boundary.

The Moriya Shrine lies before me; Yamame-san holds my hand and guides me inside. Some people I see past the mute, dull silence that’s become my heart: the other goddess of the shrine is here, the ends of her clothes singed and an expression of pure tiredness smeared across her face; Aya-san sleeps, the charred stumps on her back in full view. She clutches to that thing that holds her eggs, and a familiar white-wolf tengu watches over her… Goat horns, wretched in blood and mud. Toutetsu-san approaches me, already looking devastated. I tell her anyway, “Ms. Reimu died…” And what strength she had left evaporates. She attempts to hinder her tears uselessly before she storms out, cussing and trembling. I watch her go, yearning to feel as deeply as I used to, and am soon met by the discomfort Yukari marked my heart with, bleeding it dry from emotions, like a splinter just out of reach of pinched nails. Impossible even to the Gap to clip it out.

Without warmth to latch onto, I can’t feel anything.

I need someone else’s beating heart to feel.

… Yukari’s shadow finds solace in my misery, a corrupted sense of belonging flowering inside. Is that how she’s felt every time she was with me and Ran-sama? That she doesn’t belong, even if she should.

Suddenly, a realization.

So deep she was in her hole, deprived of light even if it bashed her face, that every interaction—every smile; every moment things weren’t bad—felt happening because she had to hide the truthfulness of her misery. But then, she saw an opportunity in M-Mr. Anon, when… Hana-chan and Mr. Anon left Ms. Reimu.

She took it and didn’t let go, going to every length before surrendering again to that shadowy path.

We'd both found sanctuary in him…

I press my hand not holding Yamame-san’s to my chest, feeling the hollow beating thrum. Memories surface—of feeling again in the tsuchigumo’s arms, in his arms—before the drain sucks them up and voids them of feeling, leaving in its wake but cold. Cold within, cold outside… What a terribly cold world. A thousand years without a heart in a world paused, decaying Sakura and heavy rain and a bloody bread knife; embers by Sekai’s Tree, Ms. Reimu’s smile. The Gap failed…

… How long can I be myself without my heart?

“Chen?” Yamame-san’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, a gasp stifled. We're outside. Tents had been erected all over, and bonfires illuminated the grounds like a streak of night brought to land. Many Youkai and stray humans had surfaced to seek shelter in the shrine too; the ground cracked and lines of trees toppled, making the terrain outside mostly untraversable. Yamame-san’s family huddled further up the path, the sight cozy despite the tragedy that was the loss of their homes—they cooked and shared meals. I smell coffee—; Yamame-san focuses on me. “You weren’t listening…”

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammer. My throat hurts.

“Don’t be; there’s no need,” she kneels to my height, her face marred in soot and sweat yet with shining eyes. “I was asking who do you have to support you? You need someone.”

Huh…?

Ah. I guess I have to think about that.

Speeds through my mind the thought of living in the house I, Ran-sama and Yukari lived in, and a smog of poison that curdles on my tongue like a bulbous finger follows it.

I don’t want to go back there. It’s not a home anymore.

“What about Mr. Anon?” She prompts, and it is the Shadow that answers with yearning. To hold—to not be lost in that sea where time doesn’t pass and every hour is that hour of bitter rain, caked blood.

His eyes balloon, Mr. Anon steps away. He saw the Shadow; Yukari wants him.

He was terrified.

But I need my heart to stop bleeding.

I need Mr. Anon's heart to feel.

To her surprise, I shake my head. “… N-No. Not Mr. Anon, no…” Powering through the screech of the Shadow—I won't harm him—, a name eases into my mind: “… Mayohiga.” I miss the cats there. “It’s deep in the mountains and secluded and—”

“No, sweetheart. You should have a l-loved one's support after e-everything you've gone through…” Her sad purses my lips. She sees my loss; it was her in my position once. A coy smile blossoms after a pause. “… Why don’t you come live with me?”

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>>50387975
more tomorrow; it's gonna be quite the lengthy segment~

>>50387975
>>50387975
>Time had stopped
Hello Dio.

Poor Chen.

>>50388723
She'll heal with spooder therapy. No shot her heart isn't woven back together under Yams.

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>>50388723
chen wouldn't like Dio very much, he's blonde like Yukari

>>50392293
Nah.

Dio was cooler, and less dangerous. SOMEHOW
But less hot

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>>50392300
>spoiler
A tale as old as time. Infinite free passes because she's cute and hot.

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Time had stopped, even when it passed. Snow blankets fell from the sky and smothered the new flora I remember sprouting after the battle had been done. The garden centering the township—the Memory Garden, as they called—survived, and every day I’d run errands for Yamame-san I’d see someone scooping snow from the ever-burning blue chrysanthemums. No matter how much was shoveled, it was always back, the whiteness that consumes and hides.

This year’s winter has been the worst in centuries, I was told. Stored crops should be poor and animals ill or frozen to death, no matter how deeply burrowed in the ground or caves… Yet, it didn’t pass a day food wasn’t on the table. On every table. The bakery had bread running all day; coffee beans—popularized recently by Sanae-san and Hana-chan—, emerged alongside healthy tea leaves. Meat in every butcher's shop, rice aplenty.

It was the harshest of winters, but no one in 阿求の里, the village’s new name, went hungry.

People stopped and greeted me—some wore the clothing articles I had donated a few months ago—patted me on the back and said sweet words. They’d have reached me before, I know. They’re kind and caress the soul. Yukari’s Shadow sucked the sunshine off them with natural ease, then would urge me to swim in her darkness.

I never will. It’s not my legacy.

Still, I fight little against it. Fighting against it would mean dragging Mr. Anon into my struggles, subjecting him to the same valley of death I walked and risking the yearning, that dark yearning I despise, coming out of control. We still see one another; I wouldn’t bear the thought of leaving him alone after he got out of hell, and neither would he like the thought of leaving me alone. We knit, we take care of our spiders—Yamame-san’s younger children had been so confused, seeing the many small spiders that wouldn't grow up like them. It was a fun day, even if the memory’s been stripped of color and laden with a familiar dull gray—, and… soak in each other’s presence. It helps, it does.

But only abates, never clips the problem at its root.

Bustling streets, as always, stretch open, and the sounds of working people hammer up. There’s always something to be done. A new building to erect, an expansion. I’d probably spot a working Kurodani if I stopped and looked around. Thanks to their tech, the kappa have bounced back after having their side of Youkai Mountain destroyed. Cobblestones guide my steps. No more roads of baked mud.

Eyes wander to a shop window, mouth agape for just a tad…

… Such a beautiful wedding dress on display. Snow-white silk comprises the shiromuku, heavy yet fluttery; the wataboshi a mantle on itself. Any woman donned in that would command a path and lead a way. The man she’s promising herself to wouldn’t be allowed to turn his eyes away. “And it could’ve been me in it…” Yukari says. I feel her before she’s there: a familiar throbbing sensation spread across the five faded scars on my cheek. “Can you picture me wearing it, Chen?” She turns to me, but I don’t meet her eyes. Eyes ahead. She’s not real.

The Shadow periodically takes form, perhaps to torture me. I don’t see it like that. Every time she materializes, my heart beats and I can feel again, no matter how fleeting. “You were evil, did evil…” Before the dress lies my face; it wears this expression—an oblique expression of nonchalant hurt, mine yet so queer—I saw in the still water of the bath I took the day after the Battle of the Solstice. Time hadn’t moved. “… Who’d marry someone like you?”

“No one,” she coos, purple eyes back on the dress. “I was never loved.”

An empty heart, like mine. I loved you…

A crescendo of the burning, and I hiss. The lack of feeling as I grabbed my cheek to subdue the pain meant Yukari had returned to my shadow. My stride resumed, hand reaching into my scarf—red-and-white, the Hakurei pattern of small circles with wavy lines across, a soothing balm to the mind—and pulling out the list of flowers as the florist’s shop came into view. The Gap could aid at every step of the way, the stray thought comes to me, as it oft does.

From minimizing travel time and expenses, to allowing me prospecting of much more gorgeous flowers outside Gensokyo and whatnot… As always, I ignore its call.

Ultimate power, just beneath the fingertips.

—It couldn’t heal a wound carved by a dull bread knife—

—It couldn’t keep a promise—

The twin thoughts vanish as I enter the shop and hand out the list to the florist, Ms. Melancholy. Eyes linger on the partitions of her joints…

… Mr. Anon had spent little time in the village since the war, preferring his new house near Yuuka's evergreen sunflower fields. The only time we came here together was the only time he ever yelled at me. Dolls weren’t a sight he much liked, I learned. He apologized later.

Strangely, Ms. Melancholy seemed to have enjoyed his sad.

I pay her for the three stunning bouquets and leave.

Two months since the war has ended…

I've got three graves to visit.

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— Excerpt from 'Gensokyo's New Wonders', *ONLY ON KAKASHI NEWS*—

— Gensokyo's New Wonders; no. 4 —
— Youkai Mountain Chasm —

About 2.7 kilometers deep and wide and uneven as a forest, this is Gensokyo's greatest manmade wound of the earth. Lake Yuugi's silhouette at the bottom is rarely visible from the surface, and due to sunlight, it may shimmer like an eye. Three uneven waterfalls feed the pond, with many smaller ones peppered throughout the walls of the chasm: Arisu's Rise starts at 1.205 meters above the lake, Rani's Rise at 1.912 meters above the lake, and Suwa's Rise, the closest to the surface, at 2.112 meters above the lake. The biggest uninterrupted drop has been recorded at 291.0 meters and belongs to Suwa's. Studies of the rock shows it was drilled with energy, explosion or a high-powered blast. Sediment cooled down with an infinitude of minerals, and due to constant snowmelt and rapid erosion, the walls have started to develop life-brimming habitats of moss and fungal diversity. The rumble of the waterfalls heard from the surface is said to be magical, for it resembles a lover's hymn proffering eternal, albeit unbetrothed, affection. It is frequently visited by the lovesick, who propose marriage on the rim of the singing crater, citing increased prosperity, fortune, and fertility.

The deeper spread of nature into the chasm is expected, and next follows observed species, their particular interactions with the unorthodox ambient and their predators[…]

—
>>50396751
Chen's epilogue will be divided into her three visits~! Will see some of Gensokyo licking its wounds, close a few along the way
more soon~!

>>50396761
>Kakashi news
Chen betrayed Aya...

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>>50398648
not Chen reading, just an extra something to shine light on the Solstice's scars, so she and Aya remain besties - even if Aya taught Chen how to lie and be mischievous…

>>50402109
Bad teacher

>>50405163
Lying is an important skill, she'll need it to navigate the clusterfuck of snakes Gensokyo's become. May tank hard the last of her innocence though.

>>50396751
Poor Chen.
So Anon live with Yuuka, and it still not over his doll's death. Sad.

>Strangely, Ms. Melancholy seemed to have enjoyed his sad
What the fuck Melan.

>>50396761
>life moves on
That's easy when everyone is ignoring the problems, and someone is brainwashing the prime victim into being cool with the reform, and ask other to not make more noise. Wooohooo.

Now I wonder what kind of lies is there on this article?

>>50406920
Why would there be foul play in a topographic pamphlet?

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>>50406920
>Wooohooo
yippie, even~

>>50406920
Gensokyo is genocidal dictatorial regime anyways, Reimu deserved every bad thing that happened to her and so does Hana for choosing to participate in it.
The only victim here is Anon.

>>50410855
Reimu was drinking herself dead, and Hana was a literal child that couldn't do much, heck, she couldn't do much until recently.

>>50410875
That doesn't erase her responsibility in what is currently happening and Reimu deserved worse than dying the death she wanted.

>>50411152
Can't really agree or disagree. But at least Reimu tried and succeeded in taking responsibility and becoming a better person. Which is more than what can be said for almost every characters.
Unless you are named Anon. The girl just ignored him all along. The fuck.

>>50411189
Anon exists to be beaten, raped, traumatised, swept under the rug, and forced to live under Yuuka's protection for the rest of his short life.

>>50411235
You don't have to be mean :(

>>50411238
It's not mean, it's the truth. Yukari already stole his life away by trapping and be trying him in the hyperbolic rape time chamber. Sure, technically anything is better than that, but let's not pretend after the high note of being freed his life is going to be comfortable anyways.
At least Reimu got to die at a peak in her life and doesn't have to waste away.

>>50411320
Ah yes. Reimu, burning her life away to defeat Yukari, which didn't stick, leaving her family behind, mostly ignoring her husband, leaving Gensokyo in the hands of another dictator (that brainwahed her husband no less) the peak of her life.

>>50411337
Considering everything she's gone through and the character development she got, yes it's a peak.

>>50411390
It's peak, but I wouldn't call it peak of her life.

>>50411833
That's why I called it a peak, it's not THE peak, it's just A peak.

>>50376212
Epilogue first editing pass completed.
26000~ words, about 30 posts here. Probably will post in the next few days,

>>50412121
God bless the HSE!

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You don’t understand the lengths of change until you take a step back and look at that which surrounds you. I don’t take a step per se. Rather, I fly above the village. The dense cold air batters against my clothes, yet I remain warm under the spider silk and finely crafted articles—Yamame-san had thrown away all the contents of my wardrobe and handmade me new clothes. Though the molasses of dull gray is the grounds of my life, I felt grateful. Those clothes harbor poor memories—, eyes on the sea of whiteness below and above, heavy snow and heavier clouds packed with even more of the stuff. Efforts to move it and make way, struggling against its weight and the damp accumulation, were great; results disappeared under heftier blankets a day after. It didn’t stop the expansion of the village, with forest outskirts promptly demolished to make space for homes and new services, large constructions and a tireless hunger for more… Especially that big palace-looking thing they’re building atop the stump of the World Tree.

The work never stops; the people—the Kurodanis—never stop.

They move and do things.

… For two months I’ve moped against the floorboards, doing nothing.

Gifted with a new home and people that care for me. One of the greatest powers Gensokyo’s ever seen.

Yet, the world is white and gray and dull and bland, lacking the colors I so beautifully used to weave into my everyday life… before the tornado—a furious tornado—swept across and took away my heart.

Arms hug the three bouquets closer to me, shielding the flowers from the wind, and eyes turn upwards to the other blanket of white—the sky and the clouds—, a mesmerizing sight that rushes like a stream, carrying me in its flow without my input. I don’t fight against the pull.

Where will I wash up in, I wonder?

… Someplace not white and gray, hopefully.

Ears twitch, body turns around midair, and I descend towards the Hakurei Shrine below. Its central path had been shoveled, and the Torii gates cleaned somewhat. I cross them and walk the cobblestones, eyes falling on the teal-haired guardian on the engawa of the shrine. Before I could speak, Aunn perked up and locked eyes with me. Her eyes sadden, and she returns her chin to her crossed arms. “Hello… You'll find R-Reimu in the back.” She says, muffled.

“I know. Thanks.” It’s a lukewarm exchange, recalling the day of her funeral. A week after the Solstice—when the snow was still meager and some green visible—, dozens of people showed up to pay respects and watch the Shinto ceremony. Sanae-san and those of the Moriya aided Hana in conducting it, and they buried the coffin empty of body yet arranged with Ms. Reimu's possessions, like her Miko uniform. Her Gohei had been lost during the war. Villagers, those of the Myouren and the Moriya, the residents of the Scarlet Devil Mansion—Flandre-chan tried talking to me that day, but after we traded a few words, she seemed… puzzled, uncomfortable. She's spoken little to me ever since—, that new shrine in the forest I’ve heard about, Kasen-san, the people from the Underground—Rin didn’t back off like Flan had. It was nice—and… So many other people of all backgrounds, appearances.

For her.

Ms. Reimu probably would’ve been spooked to have her funeral be so full. Rather than fade away alone in the stars, she stayed and was surrounded in her passing.

It put a smile on my face as I walked inside after patting snow off me and removing my shoes, which lasted as I came to the humble mitamaya Hana-san had erected in the living room, my hollowed heart battling to protect that ember of love as I gazed upon the center photo amidst sacred sticks and offerings and other paraphernalia I don’t understand: Ms. Reimu, young, wide-eyed, and… thin-mouthed, sitting on a chair and holding a bundle of sheets in her arms where a screaming, red-faced baby nestled. A second robbed from the past, where she now lives, and despite how despairing her expression is in the photo… her eyes were so full of light; her hold firm and close. Her cheeks sunken, bags under her eyes, and an all-encompassing undertone I can’t express in words: it’s all her. Reimu Hakurei.

The woman who let me into her heart at a time when it didn't seem to have space for herself, who sang to me after vowing not to commit suicide.

… Mr. Anon hadn’t attended Ms. Reimu's funeral.

Sorrow infects my smile, and I notice my left hand reaching towards the photo—towards what the past has stolen from me—before I withdraw it. I don’t deserve this, and it’s fine. I’ve accepted that, something that makes it that much easier to tolerate the shadow.

It is my fault.

With the two other bouquets left on the kotatsu, I leave through the back shoji door, eyes on the frozen pond ahead. Marisa-san lounges nearby, a jar with three motes of blue fire and a forgotten cup of sake to her left. I nod politely at her, which goes ignored, before crossing down the shoveled path.

I kneel beside Hana-san, and we pray before Reimu's grave.

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Silence, mostly. The wind sings around us, frigid. Hana-san doesn’t seem bothered, draped in a winter uniform with her long hazelnut hair free around her like a curtain—three times longer than mine. I wonder if she’s ever had a haircut—, gloves and tall boots. Her Gohei rests on the snow beside her, though her closed eyes never once strayed from the pristine tombstone. Neither a dent on the plain gray, a stray leaf, nor a clump of dirt gathers on its top. The kanji spelling out Ms. Reimu’s name has its narrow sulks clean, and the offerings and other stuff laid about—incense burning, well-cared-for grapes, a few mushrooms in a bowl, a bottle of oni fire-sake and berries harvested from the higher points of Youkai Mountain—are neatly organized.

The signs are all there, and it soothes my heart to see such love.

“… You can leave that here,” Hana-san says, opening her eyes and regarding the bouquet. Fragrant red and white roses, wrapped in a tasteful cloth. “I’ll put them in water in a minute, though I doubt they’ll survive long with this weather.” Compared to our last interaction by the shore of that lake in the Underground, this is much more pleasant.

“Thank you.” I hand her the bouquet, which she shoots a small scowl at, a most impossible expression to read, so inward and guarded… yet, so controlled—mature.

Before the tornado ravaged my heart, I’d have felt threatened by her cold red eyes… or maybe not: they look like Ms. Reimu’s.

Another matter entirely had wormed its way into my head, and I muttered—blurted out, “… Hana-san, has Mr. Anon come to visit Ms. Reimu?” Eyes wander to the offerings sprawled on the foot and on top of the spotless gravestone. Nothing among them screams Mr. Anon.

Hana-san’s deepened scowl as she places the bouquet on her lap and fetches her Gohei is disheartening: “Why do you ask when you know the answer? Don’t act dumb,” the bite, however, was unexpected, and we meet eyes. “… He’s not coming to this place, either for me or for Mom. Can you blame him?” Her voice lowers a note in that last sentence. The question is not only for me; it’s for herself. She sucks a little of the frigid air, exhaling white smoke, before turning to look at the Ordinary Magician sitting on the porch, watching us. She sips gingerly from the until-then forgotten cup, and Hana-san’s expression loses its dreary aura, softening into a sad ghost. “People cope differently, and some don't have to cope at all. That’s it.”

It hurts, but it’s not a wound I would ever act upon. This shrine—who Ms. Reimu once was—has harmed him terribly. It might have changed and been repaired, but it’s still the shrine he got his wounds from. “I see… You two have kept contact, right?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. Fast. Then. “… Yes,” unsure, slow. Her frown creases once more, and violent scarlet eyes bore into me. A beat of fear boomed through my hollow heart, her right hand clutching firmer to her Gohei. Calluses and marks laden her hands, some fresh while others are faded. She’s not stopped hunting, even after the Battle of the Solstice was done.

A shrine maiden who fights and protects Gensokyo.

Two months blur through my mind, and nothing of worth bubbles to the front.

Hollow months, hollow heart.

Despite Hana-san’s clear irritation, her grasp of the bouquet remained gentle, and soon enough—to my surprise—she reined in her violence and stood up. “You should leave. Mom needs her rest… I would offer tea, but I have patrol to do.” It doesn’t sound entirely true, but I’m thankful she, at least, tried politeness.

“It’s fine, I have other places to be,” I say, eyes bouncing from her and the gravestone. “… May I speak some words with Ms. Reimu before I go? Please?” A tense knot of pressure under her skin seems to untie, for she merely nods and walks away, using her detached sleeve to protect the frail flowers from the harsh winds. She briefly speaks to Marisa-san, and they enter the shrine then.

Alone, I turn to the grave.

Yukari stands by me, in silence for once. My heart beats.

“… Hey,” I join my hands in front of my brown apron, its golden buttons frosted and reflecting nothing, yet underneath rages the fire of love that won’t ever fade away. “… I-I don’t think I can do this for much longer, M-Ms. Reimu. When it’s not overwhelming, it’s empty. All that’s me is being carved to make way for her—f-fighting against it requires that Mr. Anon… I don’t… w-would you have sufficed if you were here? I know you would’ve…”

Senseless words, scattered words. Yukari smiles in delight as they turn into sobbing. Quivering sobs and tears, shoulders crumple, and one hand grasps this heart once full of promises.

A trillion books written to read in the afterlife; not one person I’d lose again.

I cannot do it like this, like what I’m becoming.

—A passenger in my own life—

Yukari returns to my shadow, and I clean my tears. “… I have to leave, but I'll return.” There wasn’t a single emotion behind those words. “I love you, Ms. Reimu.”

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>>50412886
>>50412877
that's Reimu's grave visited! You can already imagine who's next
more soon~!
>>50412121
holy shit man, stop teasing!
hyped~take as much time as needed! I'll be here to read it, good writing~

>>50412877
>>50412886
Poor Chen.
Surprising to see so many people at Reimu funeral?

>… Mr. Anon hadn’t attended Ms. Reimu's funeral.
It's even more poignant, it's apparently a faux pas in Japan. Good thing Hana explain the concept of coping. otherwise Chen might have gotten the wrong idea.
Or maybe she just needed to see him. Can't blame her.

>>50412927
>Surprising to see so many people at Reimu funeral?
Gensokyo would've been cooked without her the least people can do is pay respects at her funeral.

>>50415584
I mean considering the state Reimu was in...

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>>50412927
>It's even more poignant, it's apparently a faux pas in Japan.
doubtful Anon would see it like that; more like he'd relate to Izanagi and steer clear… besides, from a religious standpoint, Anon understands he's been contaminated by a crystallization of something inherently his that has rendered him polluted and required powerful sealing by Hana and Reimu. He'd use that as a convenient excuse to not attend the funeral and kegare the fuck out of it. Onryo Reimu could've been cute, however~

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>>50417842
>from a religious standpoint, Anon understands he's been contaminated by a crystallization of something inherently his that has rendered him polluted and required powerful sealing by Hana and Reimu
Whassat?

>Onryo Reimu
>"I'll be with you until the day you die"
>"No one will hurt you anymore, my love"
CUTE! And the text I made are completely unonryo!

>>50417830
How she lived doesn't matter as much as how she died. That's what people remember of you.

>>50420171
Just like Anon.

>>50420171
Do people know about it?

>>50420340
So no one!

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I'll be writing an epilogue which will likely come out before the thread ends.
It'll likely have elements out of canon, because I've been busy and haven't been able to keep up, but I feel as though it's better to conclude things in a messy way, rather then not conclude anything at all.

>>50420484
>it's better to conclude things in a messy way, rather then not conclude anything at all.
Tell that to AoT lol
good luck

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>>50420484
good seeing you around, will be waiting for the chapters. Good writing~!
>>50418307
was talking about Anon's sealed 'furnace'
>And the text I made are completely unonryo!
that's just the onryo in a modern Japan post two nukes; also, it's exactly what you get in the place beyond common sense

>>50422565
>was talking about Anon's sealed 'furnace'
...his pussy?

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>>50423331
His pussy doesn't harm him.

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Buckle up, this is going to be a long one.

Her eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness, but the glittering pinpricks of light covering the room told her that something was here. Her mind whirled through calculations. And then, a voice emerged from the darkness, artificially deep and terrifying.

“Did you think you could be rid of me so easily…?” The magician raised an eyebrow, the calculations in her mind grinding to a halt as reality crashed over her. “Did you think I wouldn't find a way back?” The magician raised a hand as if preparing for her final battle, and from nothingness, fire began to bloom. “I'll crush you!” The voice roared in an approximation of a roar. Silence filled the space following her words.

There was a crash that broke the silence as something hit the ground with a cry.

Patchouli Knowledge froze, her hand raised and a steadily growing fireball hovering inside it. Slowly, Patchouli's eyes swept across the receding darkness, and finally, she dispelled the fireball and instead waved her hand to light the candles.

A whole host of spiders greeted her - Arachnids in varying sizes, but complete with beautiful patterns across their abdomens in browns and golds. The glittering eyes she'd seen in the darkness suddenly made sense. At the back of the room, a dark figure scrambled upright and into a terrifying pose, hands outstretched in claws.

"...Hm." Patchouli hummed, turned around, and left the room, closing the door behind her and walking away.

"Wait, wait!" The magician paused and sighed a long-suffering sigh before spinning back around. Apparently still lacking in impulse control, the small girl who’d burst out of the door and was chasing after her couldn't bring herself to a halt in time and crashed into her, knocking all of Patchouli's breath from her body and nearly knocking her to the floor while she was at it. "You didn't react! You - You did when I looked ahead!"

"Your clairvoyance doesn't represent the future anymore." Patchouli replied calmly, getting her breath back. "It represents only a possible future. I'll not scream and cry like a child at the sight of an arachnid." She inclined her head as the little girl in front of her huffed and puffed out her cheeks in a childish pout. "You must get used to the world not always going your way, Sekai." Patchouli murmured. “And aside from that, your acting skills could still use some work.” The little goddess - the bright ray of shining light born of the darkest, most dismal clouds that had crossed Gensokyo - placed her hands on her hips and levelled her best glare at Patchouli. Unfortunately, Patchouli had tangled with more terrifying opponents in her long life and was entirely unfazed.

The girl had knocked her hat from her head when she crashed into Patchouli and now it lay on the floor. Patchouli crouched down and snagged the piece of apparel in two slender fingers, lifting it from the ground. Her body still ached all over.

Well, aching was an understatement. Frankly, the fact that she could move at all was nothing short of a miracle. Of the feats she’d accomplished in the last week, the one that had earned her the physical pain was arguably one of the lesser ones. Still, halting the attack of a dragon was something she would hardly forget, even if it paled in comparison to the other achievements she’d made. Of course, Patchouli Knowledge was not one to surrender to the whims of her body, so she forced herself to continue moving regardless. Gently, she lowered the hat back onto the newborn goddess's head. "You must learn to keep your composure." She told Sekai in a quiet murmur. "You never know when such a countenance will be important."

Sekai's pout finally fell and she beamed a wide smile. "I know that's what you want, but I don't think it's what I want." There was no surprise there. Much as she had been even when their only form of communication had been words on a page, Sekai was just the kind of person who was happy to show her emotions. The kind of person that Patchouli had never been. "I think I want to be a more cheerful and open person." She reached up and played with a lock of her hair, smiling up at Patchouli. "For now, anyway."

Patchouli looked down at her in silence. For a brief second, something seized her heart and made it almost skip a beat as she looked down at Sekai’s bright smile. Pushing past it, Patchouli inclined her head slightly. "You have a lifetime to decide, Sekai. No one controls you anymore."

That's what it had all been about, after all. Oh, maybe there had been other conflicts going on. Maybe Yukari Yakumo's grand designs had come to bear on Gensokyo, and maybe the Hakurei family had been permanently altered, as had the landscape itself, but at the end of the great war, only one thing had mattered.

Patchouli Knowledge had seen her daughter emerge into the world.

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"I didn't realise there were so many decisions to make out here at every second of the day..." Sekai mused, rubbing her forehead and sighing. "Before, I had less to deal with. I think I've got my hands full just learning how to, um...live."

“You are to take your time, Sekai. And remember that your physical body is not as durable as the one you had for yourself inside the HSE. Your insistence on having physical frailties means you cannot push yourself out here as you did in there. In short: Ensure you catch your breath.” Patchouli advised her. “Remember, however, that to live is more than simply to exist to yourself. You must exist in the hearts and minds of others, and your heart is formed of many other people’s. Perhaps you should find the time to get to know those who gave of themselves for your existence.”

Sekai nodded excitedly. "Mm-hmm! I've been waiting all this time to meet everyone!" But her excitement petered off after a moment, replaced with doubt. "Just...What if they don't like me? It’s hard to tell how to act now that I can’t see the future the way I could before. Besides, um…I didn't exactly ask them for permission to be born."

Such a self-conscious question, Patchouli thought. But, well, Sekai had always had a talent for making her click her tongue in annoyance, no matter how much she loved her. "If they don't like you, you hold your head high, Sekai, and you show them what a mistake they've made."

Sekai's eyes grew wider at her words, but she giggled after a moment, which made some part of Patchouli breathe a sigh of relief at not upsetting the goddess. "I knew you'd say something like that. I don't think Mother Meiling would say that. Or Auntie Remi."

"No," Patchouli disagreed immediately, "Remi would say something grandiose. Fortunately, I have no interest in those sorts of gestures." She suspected that Remi would prefer to be something other than an aunt to Sekai, and the vampire pouted over it each and every time the word was said, but she'd get over it eventually. If there was one thing Patchouli knew about Remilia Scarlet, it was that she was tenacious.

Sekai giggled again. “But Mother, I know you like grandiose stuff too! The ritual to create this body and the ritual to separate me from the HSE proved it!”

Patchouli tried her best not to scoff or roll her eyes. Annoyingly, the brat had her. She’d certainly yelled some grandiose things recently. So, hurriedly, she tried to change the subject. "Now, tell me. Are all those spiders on their work breaks?"

Sekai's eyes slid to the side far too fast. Patchouli didn't even need to try any detection magic to get the answer she wanted. The goddess’ reply was too hesitant. "...Yes."

"If you're going to lie, do a better job."

"...Most of them."

Patchouli sighed and rubbed her forehead. "The library will never be finished at this rate. Exercise restraint, Sekai, else I shall have to punish you. Go and tell the spiders to save this nonsense for their personal time." Sekai didn't make a move, so Patchouli fixed her with the sort of withering stare that had once been reserved for Marisa Kirisame.

It didn't take long for Sekai to crack. She might've been a know-it-all, but that didn't translate to emotional maturity. "...Yes, Mother..." She mumbled, turning and trudging away, her shoulders sinking.

"Sekai." Patchouli called after her. The little goddess looked back. "You're doing an excellent job. I'm…proud of your progress.”

Sekai looked confused for a second, but soon a smile settled over her face again. "Thank you, Mother! I love you!" She cried as she broke into a run, heading back into the room she'd just lured Patchouli into. As soon as she was inside, Patchouli heard the room break out into whispers and conversation. The Kurodani brood, reverted back to their humanoid forms and eagerly discussing what had happened with their new friend.

As for Patchouli, she turned over Sekai's words in her mind as she turned and silently floated along the corridor. Learning how to live was certainly difficult. It'd take a lifetime. But, and Patchouli allowed herself the luxury of a slight smirk at this, Sekai would have that opportunity. She would have the chance to live and learn for herself. To see the world and to experience what it had to offer. She would never have to be confined somewhere that she didn't want to be ever again.

Because the war was over, and together, Patchouli Knowledge and Hong Meiling had saved their daughter.

Patchouli passed further through the corridor, next to the piles and piles of books that had been recovered from the old library. It was painstaking work, but having a squadron of arachnid youkai with webbing was proving far more effective than having one assistant tie a rope to her waist. There was still plenty more to recover, but Patchouli felt optimistic that they’d find just about everything. She continued on, only to pause by one of the windows looking out over Gensokyo.

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To say that the world had been changed would be an understatement. In truth, the land had been fractured and reshaped so completely that any grasp of its geography that Patchouli had once had had been rendered worthless. Huge swathes of land had been rearranged, and even more had been affected as the fighting had intensified to the point where reality itself became malleable. What lay out there was an alien world now, but it was one that could become as familiar as her library had once been. One that she could, through the eyes of Sekai, come to understand and love.

For some strange reason, looking through the window, Patchouli was reminded of tarot cards. In particular, the card of Death. It wasn't as it sounded. Death didn't mean the end of all things, but could symbolise a change into something new. The HSE, for all the pain and misery it had wrought, had brought about this change. It had made Patchouli a mother. It had seen alliances formed and shattered, friendships made and lost, social hierarchies upended entirely, and lives altered forevermore.

Patchouli's eyes veered downward, away from the landscape of Gensokyo and toward the gates of the Scarlet Devil's Mansion, one of the few places left relatively unscathed by the Solstice. Her fingers twitched and her vision dilated as she activated some of the glyphs applied to her eyes, letting her see the gates more clearly. Yes, she could see the beret, hanging from one of the iron bars that made up the gate. Beyond that, she caught the tips of fingers as the reliable gatekeeper stretched.

Patchouli smiled a rare smile to herself and turned, continuing down the corridor.

She emerged into the main hall of the mansion, passing by the empty space that had once held a framed painting of Remi and Flandre. Patchouli had missed most of the major events, given how busy she'd been during the Solstice, but she did know that the younger sister of the Scarlet Devil had been through some changes of her own, courtesy of Yukari Yakumo. Remi certainly wasn’t happy about it, but she seemed to be doing her best to hide her feelings for Flandre’s sake, and so she had decided that the only solution was to waste plenty of time and money on a new painting. Easy for her to say; she had plenty of both. Even so, that didn’t change the fact that she was having a hard time finding anyone in Gensokyo who could bring the painting in her mind to life.

Patchouli descended the stairs, pausing for a moment to listen out. After a moment, she identified the sound she was looking for. A rusty, bitter grinding as if something large and metal was being dragged across the floor repeatedly. It was a different sound from what Patchouli had heard in other parts of the mansion, but the root cause was shockingly common in Gensokyo at the moment. Whether that room’s occupant had succumbed to despair or simply couldn’t bear the thought of home anymore, Patchouli didn’t know. Perhaps she’d just lost too much, too quickly. She’d been getting worse as the days went by, going by the frequency of the scraping sounds. That was how it went - The day you lose someone isn’t the worst. You tend to have plenty to occupy your time. But once everything’s taken care of, you quickly find that the worst is all the days that they stay dead, while you linger on.

Not everyone handled grief the same way.

Patchouli headed for the staircase leading down into the mansion's basement levels, and from there she passed the hosts of used guest rooms and down the new, recently carved out staircase. Given that the mansion was one of the few areas of Gensokyo to not be completely reshaped or flattened out of existence by the war, it had become something of a hotspot in recent days and weeks. Youkai and humans alike from all over who'd been involved in the fighting had come seeking refuge and somewhere safe to spend the night as they waited to see what shape this new Gensokyo would take. Remilia Scarlet, ever the charismatic host, hadn't hesitated to throw the mansion's doors wide open, taking full advantage of a certain maid’s ability to reshape the fabric of time and space as she pleased to house as many people as needed it.

As such, more than a few youkai and humans who'd been prominent figures in the final battles of the war now nursed their injuries in the mansion. Not to mention those who'd been made refugees as a result of the damage to Gensokyo. For most of them, this was only temporary, but there were a few who had nowhere to return to. Just more casualties of the nightmare that was the HSE.

The card of Death didn’t mean an end. Just a change. If they weathered the storm, then perhaps they would emerge stronger.

Patchouli reached the bottom of the new staircase. It barely qualified as a staircase at the moment, but there were plans for it. As of right now, it led to an ornate set of double doors that had only been installed in the last day or so.

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The whole thing was taking longer than anyone had expected thanks to the newfound difficulties in getting supplies around Gensokyo. With a lot of areas that had once been useful for resources destroyed or rendered unavailable at the moment, it was hard to spare anything for the library. Even so, the Kurodani family had been doing their best. New supply routes had been negotiated, new sources had been found deep in the forests and mountains, and slowly but surely, things were moving along.

Patchouli pushed open the double doors and floated through into the second edition of the Scarlet Devil Mansion's library.

She emerged on a balcony, even though she'd already descended through the basement to reach the place at all. The original library was built to be expanded outward, but Patchouli had come up with a different idea for the new library, and now things expanded further downwards. Already, the room was longer vertically than the entire mansion above them, consisting of at least four floors at the current moment, connected by massive spiral staircases with walkways extending out to the wings that contained the bookshelves. Said bookshelves were still mostly bare as the recovery effort in the remains of the previous library continued, but progress was progress.

There was commotion down below. Patchouli frowned, leaning over the railing to peer down. Such noises were not uncommon at the moment, of course. It wasn't hard to make out who the arguments concerned. Of the groups occupying and taking refuge in the mansion, one was particularly numerous, and all of its members had similar fashion sensibilities.

"Stop just leaving the materials out in the open! Your sisters keep tripping over them and it's only a matter of time before someone starts a fight! We've enough to worry about as it is! There’s a reason we’re still lagging so far behind, you know!" Yamame Kurodani, hardworking spider matriarch, had thrown herself into her role organising the construction efforts, even though she would've had all the excuses in the world to shut herself up in a room and sulk like so many others. For that, amongst other things, Patchouli admired her.

"I'll not have you lot jeopardise this job because you're being careless!" The spider matriarch paced back and forth in front of the three other spiders sitting on the floor, all of whom looked thoroughly chastised and, if Patchouli was being honest, like they might cry. She supposed that children never truly got over feeling wretched at being scolded by their parents. "And speaking of sisters, where have mine got to?" Yamame griped, rubbing her forehead tiredly. “Of all the bloody times for the dependable ones to take a break…”

It would’ve been awfully convenient if Patchouli had made Sekai come here and tell Yamame herself. Patchouli needed to head to the ground floor anyway, so she hopped over the balcony without a pause and gently floated downward. On the way down, she succumbed to some impulse that sounded distinctly like Remi. "Actually," she called down as she descended, making Yamame jump and look up wildly and her children yelp and cry out in surprise, "I think I can answer that for you."

The spider tried to fix her hair as Patchouli alighted on the ground in front of her. She still had some fading bruises on her face, not from the Solstice but from the festival in the village that had gone to hell. The woman had had every right to lose all faith in the surface world and stay in the underground, but she’d rallied and made good on the promise to build the library. Her hair bun seemed frizzier than it had been when Patchouli had last seen her, but her clothes looked immaculate. Courtesy of a certain silver-haired maid, no doubt. Stammering slightly, Yamame messed with the sleeves of her shirt as she spoke. "A-Ah, Miss Patchouli. Sorry, I shouldn't be doing this out in the open. I didn’t know you’d be coming by."

"It's quite alright." Patchouli shook her head. "I’m trying to spend as much time in the new library as possible, so I can identify any issues we need to fix early. And regardless, I've had to gain a wealth of experience in dealing with trying children lately." She resisted the urge to open a book that no longer served any purpose. It was funny just how much impact that brat’s book had had on her habits for how little time she’d possessed it. "It's quite the task."

"That's an understatement..." Yamame murmured with a weak smile. She turned to the three girls sitting on the floor. "Oh, get going, you three, and stop looking so crestfallen. I know it’s…difficult, right now, but we’ll pull through like we always do. I still love you all. Just remember what I told you."

"Y-Yes, mother..." The three mumbled in varying chastised replies. It was so similar to how Sekai had responded to Patchouli earlier that she nearly laughed, but she just about managed to restrain herself.

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The three girls took off, using webs they fired from their wrists to pull themselves up and away faster. It seemed to be a favoured trick of the Kurodani family. Patchouli might've been annoyed about the webs getting strewn about everywhere, but the Kurodani family had proved perfectly capable of cleaning up after themselves so far. Not to mention very capable workers, at least once the supply chain issues had been resolved. Progress had been lightning-fast once supplies were readily available.

"These lot will surely be the death of me..." Yamame muttered as the girls disappeared over the balcony. "They’ve inherited their father’s ability to find trouble constantly, but not his sense to at least surround himself with people who could keep him safe. Sorry, er, what did you want to tell me?"

Patchouli smoothed down her dress and turned her attention from the spider’s daughters and back to the spider herself. "Ah, yes. I know where you'll find the rest of your siblings. It seems a certain impudent goddess riled them up into performing what I can only assume was a very shoddy prank on me. There's a room in the east wing, near the old library, where you'll likely find them lounging around." Patchouli brushed her hair from her eyes and crossed her arms. "At the very least, it's good that they seem to have taken to Sekai rather well. I’ll have to find some way to show my appreciation."

Yamame laughed lightly. "Well, we Kurodanis have always been good at taking care of each other, so they've had no trouble inviting Sekai to join them. I think we can tell that she appreciates spiders a great deal. As for your appreciation, paying us for this job and letting us stick around here is appreciation enough."

Patchouli inclined her head. "I'll thank you on her behalf, still. When she came into the world, I couldn't say how her existence would be taken. She'll always have a place here in the Scarlet Devil Mansion, of course, but it's good to know that she could have a place elsewhere, too." As soon as Patchouli finished speaking, she realised her mistake. Yamame's expression grew pensive and her eyes fell slightly. Of course, she thought to herself. She'd been rather occupied through the war, so she'd missed what'd happened to the underground. That beautiful home of Yamame's - those caves that the earth spiders called home - they were no more.

Patchouli didn't get a chance to hurriedly deliver some sort of apology. "Of course." Yamame replied, a sad smile on her face. "We might not have a place to go at the moment, but Sekai would always be welcome to stay with us. We’re already sending out some teams for excavation of the collapsed caves. Once the library is mostly finished, we'll put more of our focus there. Our homes are very sturdy, after all, and I have no doubt that plenty of our belongings are still intact down in the rubble. You might’ve met some of my sisters who are already out in the collapsed caves, in fact. They're some of the ones who you met in the caves when you came to meet me."

"Ah." Patchouli nodded. "I’m sure Sekai would love to hear their stories, especially if you have any particularly grandiose storytellers amongst them. Well, we're already paying you a hefty sum here, but Remi would most likely be glad to offer you all any assistance she can. She can hardly ever resist a chance to show how helpful and gracious she can be." And aside from that, Patchouli suspected that Remi was starting to go a little insane with post-war boredom.

Yamame offered a half-smile and a gentle shake of her head. "I'm sure she could, but things like this are our wheelhouse, and the caves are our territory. We'll get by just fine." Patchouli silently nodded. It wasn't really her place to make the offer, anyway. She still blamed her Remnant self for all this altruism business. Yamame ran a hand through her hair. "Ah, but I'll probably not get much done today if all my sisters and children are wrapped up in pranking escapades..."

"It's no problem." Patchouli replied. "The library is only as much of a priority as you wish it to be. There's plenty of other relief work we could assist with." Which was far from a lie. With all the damage done to Gensokyo, plenty of areas were in desperate need of helping hands to repair the damage. The tengu city, Patchouli had heard, was still in pieces, and because of Youkai Mountain's damage, the impressive waterfall that ran through it had split into multiple streams, causing all sorts of flooding and water damage. The only reason there weren't certain annoying reporters at the mansion right now was because the chief tengu, Tenma, had called for all hands on deck to repair the damages. Meanwhile, the kappa and the yamawaro were keeping their heads down, the former to prevent any damage to their own homes and the latter so no one would come and hold them accountable for building the HSE in the first place.

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Elsewhere, the underground - barely accessible anymore thanks to the collapse of the tunnels - limped toward recovery. Patchouli understood that they'd lost Yuugi Hoshiguma, which meant that the central figure holding the underground in place had fallen. Satori Komeiji still held her title down there, but the place was in a tenuous state of being, and it could fall apart at any moment. Suika Ibuki had apparently headed there in an attempt to pick up the pieces, but only time would tell how that plan would work out.

In truth, Patchouli had had enough of all the widescale fighting and the complicated plans. She’d rather return to some semblance of normality.

“That’s true…” Yamame murmured, her eyes looking distracted. Patchouli frowned and twitched her fingers to observe the concern blooming in her emotions. “I suppose it’s nice that Sekai’s spending so much time out and about. She seems very cheerful. I just wish…” She trailed off, took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and finally exhaled heavily. Patchouli didn't have to think very hard to figure out that the earth spider was worried. Perhaps this was some part of motherhood that Patchouli would eventually experience for herself, but she seemed unable to hide it.

“Ah.” Patchouli said before Yamame could continue. “Would you mind if I take a guess?” Frowning, Yamame nodded. “The bakeneko.” Yamame’s eyes widened slightly, and Patchouli knew she’d predicted correctly. The bakeneko known as Chen, who had once been in service as the shikigami of the fox, who was herself in service as the shikigami of Yakumo.

“I…Yes. Chen, she’s…” Yamame rubbed her eyes tiredly. “I brought her here with us because I was hoping that being surrounded by people might help her. But…well, she’s traumatised, of course. Everything she went through in the Solstice, losing Ran, losing…Sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping all of this on you. I know it’s not your…”

“Sometimes, an outside perspective is helpful.” Patchouli filled in for her. “While I confess that I have little particular interest in Chen, I do not mind listening or offering suggestions.” Because, even though the Solstice had passed, Patchouli still felt a sort of softness for Yamame Kurodani. Sekai had described it in her book as something bleeding over from somewhere else, but Patchouli wondered if that was still the case. Perhaps now, she simply felt the way she did because she’d gotten to know the spider matriarch better.

“...Yeah, that’s fine. She’s…Sometimes, I don’t think she’s here. It’s like her mind and soul are somewhere else, hearing something terrifying and I can’t do anything to help her. It…Well, it reminds me a little bit of my human, when he was young. She shouldn’t have to go through that. I don’t know if she’s even feeling much anymore.”

Patchouli nodded gently. “As has always been the case throughout history, those hurt the most by war are the young and the weak. And while I cannot suggest a solution, all I can do is tell you to keep her grounded in the present. Don’t let her slip away from the world. Dwelling on the past is…not an optimal solution.”

Yamame weakly laughed. “Thank you, Patchouli. I don’t know how useful that’ll be, but it’s good of you to listen. I just wish I could do something more for her. Something more…” Yamame shook her head and tried to change the subject. Patchouli wondered about the bags under the spider’s eyes. She hadn’t been involved in the Solstice beyond at the very fringes, and yet she suffered the pain of it anyway. “Anyway, I wanted to get your thoughts on some of the—”

"Um, hello!?" A voice called down from the upper balcony, interrupting Yamame and making her cry out in surprise, her arms raising in a defensive pose. Even though the construction efforts remained ongoing, the library couldn't seem to stop finding new visitors, driving both Patchouli and Yamame mad. "Is anyone here...!?" Patchouli squinted up at the entrance, seeing a brown head of hair and a red bow with white frills, with a green ascot below. Even though the resemblance remained uncanny, there was a tone to the newcomer's voice that identified her. Not Reimu Hakurei, but close to her spitting image. For a split second, Patchouli Knowledge was in the old library, facing down an intruder in the midst of the Scarlet Mist Incident.

A lifetime ago...

Hana's eyes locked onto Patchouli and Yamame after a moment. "O-Oh, I didn't see you." She looked from side to side, seemingly searching for a way down. Apparently dissatisfied with the available options, she hopped over the balcony and...Well, Patchouli wasn't sure exactly what she did, but within the next moment or so, she'd come to land on the ground floor. It was as if multiple versions of her had jumped at the same time in different ways.

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The girl was still battered and bruised from her many fights throughout the war. Bandages crossed over a large amount of her body, bruises still marred her skin, and she still walked with a limp, but she didn't look like any of the injuries bothered her. Hana Hakurei had been through the fire and had emerged on the other side, tempered and sharp enough to be Gensokyo's protector.

"Yes?" Patchouli asked, raising an eyebrow and placing her hands on her hips as the Hakurei Shrine Maiden approached. "The library is not, I'm afraid, up to taking visitors yet."

Hana shook her head with a slight blush. "No, er, it's not that. I just didn't know where anyone was. Went looking around. Couldn’t find the right person. Now I’m here, and...Can I, um, ask you something?" Patchouli held her sigh. That, to her, sounded like an attempt to find someone to dump her many, many traumas on, and frankly, Patchouli had her hands full already. She was no one's therapist.

Yamame cleared her throat. "Hello, Miss Hakurei,” she politely nodded. “Hope you’re well.” As far as Patchouli knew, Yamame didn’t know much about Hana, so she clearly had chosen to err on the side of caution when it came to the long history of Hakurei Shrine Maidens and beating up youkai. “Er, Patchouli, I've got a lot to get on with, and I want to go and check on Chen, so I'll just..." And waving off any responses, the spider matriarch took off for the rafters, leaving Patchouli and the new Hakurei Shrine Maiden standing alone. Patchouli watched her go, silently wishing her well, and turned her attention back to Hana.

She was taller than Reimu. Patchouli had never taken notice of Hana Hakurei, and as a result, it was easy to miss the differences even though her face looked so similar. Perhaps, before the war, she hadn't learnt how to stand tall. Now, her back was straight and her face held a determined edge to it. She stood with a loose posture, ready for a fight. Reimu had never done that. She’d always stood as if no one could even conceive of trying to attack her at that moment. Patchouli had never been particularly close to Reimu Hakurei, but even so, she found that the new model wasn't an unwelcome change.

"Well?" Patchouli asked tiredly. "If you want to find a conversation partner, then I’d wager you could do much better than me. That bakeneko would likely appreciate some company." Not that she knew for sure. She’d never have said it to Yamame, but she wasn't even sure if the bakeneko was who resided in that body anymore. Chen stunk of Old Magic, and it was an unpleasantly familiar scent. Yukari Yakumo's shadow, it seemed, would hang over her for the rest of her life, colouring her thoughts and drowning her emotions in the darkness of the Gap. The only solace Patchouli could think of was that it didn’t have to be a burden she faced alone, when people like Yamame Kurodani stood beside her. "Otherwise, I’m sure someone will be itching for a fight before long, and everyone wants to get a feel for how the new Shrine Maiden works. Remi’s been dying to have another duel with you, I’m sure."

Mentioning Remi made the Shrine Maiden's eyes flicker to the side. The vampire had told Patchouli that she'd taught Hana Hakurei 'the only lesson worth teaching' during the war, and it seemed that Hana still remembered it well. Patchouli doubted she would ever forget. "I do want to spend more time with Chen, yeah…But no, I don't think it's them I want to speak to right now...It's you, Miss Patchouli." Patchouli didn't let her face betray any emotions. Just what were people saying about her? "It's just...I want to know how you stay so strong."

"Strong?" Patchouli repeated, tilting her head. She drew herself up, inhaling as much as she could as she stood at her full height, which she noticed with some chagrin that Hana had already surpassed. "Strong? I believe you're talking to the wrong person. I'm quite frail, you see."

"I don't think you are." Hana replied, her hands trailing gently over her bandaged limbs. "Physically, maybe. But my teacher - Marisa - always said that even when you mostly stayed in your library, your mental skills fascinated her." Of course Marisa would be talking about Patchouli behind her back. Whole studies could be written on that witch's lack of decorum. "I saw - Heard - about Sekai. And..." Here Hana trailed off, and her movement grew subdued. She lowered her voice, perhaps unconsciously, and leaned in to whisper, "and I heard that you - Um, part of you...? Sorry, I don't really understand it, but I heard that you were trapped in the HSE too."

Patchouli nodded, wondering just who had told the girl. Remi? Perhaps. If she felt that Patchouli needed someone to talk to for some inane reason, then Remi was capable of outing her. Putting aside the issue of who’d been telling tall tales, Patchouli’s Remnant self's tenacity was no surprise. As if Patchouli would ever let something like that defeat her.

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And besides, she'd not been alone. She'd had an excellent source of stability and comfort to draw from. "I was trapped for a subjective year." Patchouli elaborated, remembering that they were still standing in the still-too-empty atrium of the new Library. Their words bounced off the walls with reckless abandon. "Follow me. I've no wish to have this conversation out here." Without waiting, Patchouli turned and floated in the direction of the new East Wing. From the echoing footsteps, it was clear that Hana had chosen to follow her.

One day, Patchouli planned to have some giant moving mechanical apparatus in here. Perhaps, given how important her grasp of celestial bodies had been lately, an accurate model of the solar system. Or perhaps something else entirely. She had plenty of time to decide. But for now, it was empty, and one of the first places that Patchouli had directed the Kurodani family to had been the room that would become her new study. She'd decided that her old configuration had required too much walking and had obscured too many shelves, so, much like with the atrium, if spreading things out wasn't working...

Patchouli floated through the walkway and into her new study. The walkway led to a staircase that ascended into the centre of a shaft, where her trusty desk now resided. Completely surrounding her, ascending both upwards and downwards into darkness, were books. If she needed something from this collection, all she needed to do was either float up or down to reach it. The platform that held her desk was connected to the walls by sturdy metal rods that had been mounted into the walls by Kurodani building methods, which Patchouli suspected would keep them in place for nearly an eternity. Already, the spiders had filled out the bookshelves in this room according to Patchouli's exact specifications.

Patchouli floated over the desk and spun, lowering herself into her faithful chair, still standing after the destruction of the library. She instructed Hana to sit down in the chair opposite.

The Shrine Maiden looked like she wanted to say no, but in sharp contrast to her predecessor, she swallowed the urge and pulled the chair out, sinking into it gingerly. She didn't quite look like she knew how to handle herself here, but Patchouli would've been surprised if she did. It hadn't taken Reimu long to decide that obeying the rules of decorum wasn't for her. Patchouli would be interested to see how the new Hakurei handled the situation.

"Well?" Patchouli asked again now that she was situated. "What is it that you so desperately need to ask me about?"

Hana swallowed and sat up straighter, as if that gave her more control. "You were trapped in the HSE too." She restated. "For a year." For a second, her eyes shut and she exhaled through her nose. Curious, Patchouli's fingers twitched, her vision distorting until she could see the angry red of Hana's rage. Well, no wonder. "Trapped like my father." The rage seemed to drain out of her after she'd gotten the words out, being replaced by melancholy blues.

Patchouli suspected she knew what this meeting was about. Hana Hakurei's father had been through all sorts of abuse and horrors during his time trapped in that infernal building, extended artificially by the time-distorting apparatus that had seen Patchouli and Meiling trapped there too. Hana was here now because she didn't have the answers. She wasn't even sure of the questions. All she knew for sure, Patchouli could tell, was that someone she loved was in pain and she didn't know how to help. Perhaps she felt that learning as much as she could would give her a measure of control over her own trauma from that damnable place.

"I suspect it would be helpful for both of us if you were to cease dancing around the question and get to the point." Patchouli told the girl, wishing that she had some tea. She slid a hand across her desk, tracing out a symbol on the far side. It was one of, if not the first things she'd made sure was done when the construction had just started. The ley-lines that would guide magic through the library hadn't been activated yet, which meant that it was impossible for Patchouli to do her usual magical methods of summoning refreshments, so Patchouli had required a different way to get a message out.

In the instant between one moment and the next, two steaming teacups appeared on the table. The maid herself appeared at the side of the table, fumbling around to her other side with little grace.

Sakuya Izayoi still had bandages wrapped around her forehead from several close calls with rubble and shrapnel. Her arm, injured at some point in the fighting, remained wrapped in a sling around her neck, and as a result, she was a little slower than usual. Patchouli certainly didn't need to analyse her emotions to see how frustrated this made Sakuya, but she was putting up with the healing process as best she could.

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Sakuya's eyes connected with Patchouli's, and the magician nodded gently toward her. Sakuya drew in a breath, straightened her back, and disappeared. Patchouli felt a smile play at the edge of her lips as she lifted her teacup and took a warming sip. She turned back to Hana, who had yet to touch her cup.

The Shrine Maiden was hesitant. "I've heard that...a long, long time ago, my mother used to drink tea that appeared from nowhere in this mansion." Her slender fingers traced the rim of the teacup gently, and her fringe hid her eyes from view. "I've...never had the luxury." Gingerly, she lifted the cup and brought it to her lips. "I think I visited here with my parents once when I was young, but I don't remember anything about it."

Patchouli watched the girl sip. She kept her face passive as Hana recoiled at the taste and then, as if panicking, hurried to cover the expression up. "They say that such things are better experienced late than never experienced at all." Patchouli said, tilting her head slightly. "I suspect that Sakuya has prepared what was once your mother's favourite tea. How do you like it?"

Hana paused, her fingers coming to her lips for a moment. "I..." She frowned, staring down into the teacup. Patchouli watched as Hana seemed to rapidly calculate the correct response to the question. "I like it well enough...but I don't think it's my favourite." Looking back up at Patchouli, a frown creased her brow. "Um, not to come off as ungrateful or anything. Maybe I’ll like it more if I drink it more…"

"Personal preference has nothing to do with gratitude." Patchouli replied as she folded her hands on top of the desk. "Your mother spent many years here as a guest; She had her time. How are we to learn what you like if you would prefer to pretend that your tastes do not differ from hers?" Patchouli's eyes bore into Hana. "You are not her." Hana's eyes widened a little. "And you are not expected to be her. You are free to learn your own tastes and your own place in the world. Do not presume you need to act as Reimu once did." It was strangely similar to the words she had given to Sekai earlier.

"...How did you...?" Hana sounded mystified. As if the leaps in logic that Patchouli made were something that could never have occurred to her. "I've been wondering that exact thing lately. Ever since the end of the war."

"I'm incredibly intelligent." Patchouli lazily replied dismissively, waving her hand. "Now, shall we move onto the original topic? You've your whole life to fret about your place in the world." She sipped her tea. Behind Hana, back in the new library’s corridor, she caught the tail-end of movement, in a literal sense. Hm...

"H-Huh? Oh, um...yeah. I wanted to ask you how you...handled it. Being stuck in that place, unable to leave." Hana's eyes fell back into a guarded sort of sadness. Patchouli raised an eyebrow dangerously as Hana continued to dance around the subject, and the Shrine Maiden swallowed grimly and again straightened up. "It's about my father."

"Your father..." Patchouli mused. "He spent far longer in that place than I did, and his trials were far different to the ones I endured there. Our experiences differ, as do our battles." What she'd seen in the supposed 'shrine husband' had suggested the total mental collapse into a state that he would never recover from.

"I know, but..." Hana's voice grew tight and strained, and her shoulders shook as if the weight of the world pressed down on them. "He's been free of that horrible place for a while now, and he's still..." she trailed off, took in a shaky breath, and rubbed her eyes. "It's like he doesn't know how to function outside the HSE anymore. He doesn't sleep much, and when he does, he's always having nightmares. He never seems comfortable in new clothes, and I found him in the kitchen obsessively making tea once. Even Aunn can’t seem to get through to him. I thought he’d get better once he was free of the place. I...I feel like the father I had before is - Is gone." With the words finished spilling out of her like the river that had once flown down Youkai Mountain, Hana took in a shuddering breath and fell still, her hands balled into fists upon her knees and her head down like she was waiting for the executioner’s axe to fall.

All was silence, and the only sound was the shifting fabric as Patchouli interlocked her fingers under her chin and leaned forward. "You feel unmoored, hmm?" The magician asked. "All the effort you put into saving him - The war you fought in, the sacrifices you made, the pain you endured - And you wonder if it was all for nothing." Hana's head didn't raise. If anything, she doubled down on staring at her lap. "I imagine you’ve wondered if you were too late. Perhaps you blame yourself, thinking that if you'd acted earlier, you might've averted some of the pain. If you'd acted early enough, you could've changed everything.” Hana still failed to look up, so Patchouli continued.

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“The war might never have happened. Gensokyo might still be as it once was. Is that right?" Hana didn't answer, so Patchouli reached out and used her index finger to push Hana’s head upwards. "I said...is that right, Hana Hakurei?"

"...Yes." Hana's voice was sullen and her forehead remained creased. "Yes, that's right. I spent so long failing to do anything - Being people's pawns in their stupid plans, falling for anyone who tossed a shitty compliment my way - And all that time…I just let my father suffer more and more. Not just him, either. Kasen, her animals, and everyone else that Yukari put through hell. Even my mother - If I’d just been stronger, she might've..." A shaky, huffy breath forced itself out from Hana’s lips even as she struggled for words. “...I couldn’t save her. I tried - I really did, but I…”

“...But you were not strong enough.” Patchouli finished for her. This was a dangerous path to tread down, so she crossed her legs and leaned forward. “Let me tell you something: You will never be strong enough. There is no such thing. If you fall into the trap of chasing the unattainable goal of strength to save everyone, then you will never truly live happily. Your mother would not want that for you.” Hana rubbed at her eyes, sniffling slightly. “Dwelling on what could have been will never be productive. Instead, focus on what you can do right now.”

“I…Yeah. We’ll hold the funeral soon. Mum’s gone, but she went out on her own terms.” Hana weakly replied. “But Dad’s still here.” When she looked up at Patchouli, there was pleading in her eyes. "How can I help him? Do I even deserve to help him? Can - Can you help him?"

Patchouli tilted her head. "Can I help him? Hardly. He's not my father. I'm not his child." She drained the rest of her teacup. "He is a man who has endured hardships that he will carry with him for the rest of his life. Whether or not those hardships are too much for him to bear is up to him." Hana's shoulders dropped. "You cannot carry the weight of the world for him, Hana Hakurei.” Defeatedly, Hana nodded. “But,” Patchouli continued, “You can choose whether he will carry that burden by himself." Finally, Hana looked up.

Patchouli raised a hand, painting patterns in the air that lingered in sparking magic. "He lived in a prison, but to him, that was the whole world. Now that he’s free, the world is impossibly big and impossibly different to his previously unchanging environment. It is not what it used to be, and it never can be the same again." A visage took shape in the air that Patchouli traced figures into. Her floating painting continued to take shape. A moment later, vertical lines placed the face behind bars. "I should imagine he desires a sense of normality, so he chooses to embrace the life he has just been freed from. If we cannot handle the world, we must reduce it to a size we can handle. We paint the bars of our own prisons."

Hana's mouth curled unhappily. "But...all that fighting and bloodshed..."

The magician’s scoff cut through the air. "Yes? What about it? Are you going to tell me that it was all pointless because your father didn't immediately revert to the man he was before it all? That you might as well not have bothered?" Patchouli raised an eyebrow. "Don't be naive. You are not a young child and I am not here to coddle you. You and many others fought through hell on a mission to save him. You fought and bled, as you said. Did you think that mission was over just because you beheaded Yukari Yakumo and destroyed the HSE?" Patchouli poured herself some more tea with one hand, and she used the other to perform some complicated runic tracing which activated what little she'd managed to set up of the library's new detection systems. She had a suspicion, and she was certain that this would confirm it before long. "No, I'd wager you'll be fighting this battle for the rest of your father's life." Hana's face was fraught with worry and despair, and Patchouli suddenly felt like she'd perhaps overestimated the girl's maturity. Despite everything she'd been through, she was still a teenager, someone with a very skewed concept of what the passing of years felt like.

"So I..." Hana mumbled quietly, some level of defeat evident in her words, "I just have to sit here and...and hope he recovers? That's all I can do? What if he won’t accept my help? I just…Is that all my life is now?" Evidently, Patchouli wasn't doing a good job of cheering the girl up, but that was fine. She needed to see things as they were, not as she wanted them to be.

"All you can do? Your father is his own man, as your mother was her own woman. You are your own person. He is not made of glass, fit to break at the slightest fall. It may seem hard for you to understand when you have spent so much of your time dedicated to your parents, but..." Patchouli found herself pausing here.

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She'd not expected to find herself looking inward during this conversation, but her words had surprisingly stunned her. Her life had been mostly dedicated to Sekai in recent times, to saving her and saving Meiling, Remi, Sakuya, and everyone else she cared about.

So what did she do now? Well, that was up to her. She was free to do as she pleased. But she'd gained in places that she didn't expect to gain in, and now she had new obligations to consider. Sekai, of course. But Meiling, too. No, it would be lying to say that the events of the previous few months - And the subjective year in the HSE - hadn't thoroughly reworked her personal relationships and evaluations of other people. She had to live not just for herself, but for Sekai’s sake too. And now, she found that she rather wanted to go and check on Meiling. She wanted to see the gatekeeper and make sure that she was still as rock-solid and reliable as she always was. But it would have to wait.

She refocused her gaze on Hana. "...But, you have to live outside of them." The quick crash course she'd received in Hana Hakurei's personal relationships had mostly been information that Patchouli quite frankly didn't care about, but she vaguely remembered a lot of talk about how poor her upbringing had been. And with Reimu’s death, there was a good chance that Hana felt like she owed them something. "You don't owe it to your parents to stay by your father's side for the rest of your days, protecting him from everything bad in the world and carefully vetting every good thing to come by instead of living for yourself. You don't owe it to your mother to be the greatest, most efficient Hakurei Shrine Maiden to walk Gensokyo. The only thing you owe them, Hana Hakurei, is to live a life you enjoy."

The words seemed to wash over Hana at first, but slowly, she looked up, her mouth settling into a straighter line from the unhappy sadness that had just been present on her face. Her back straightened and her head raised up. "I...think I get it. Maybe not completely, but..." The girl slowly nodded. “I don’t know if he wants my help. He’s - He’s being stubborn…” Hana shook her head in frustration. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come to you as if you had all the answers. I think Kasen would’ve said something similar." The Hermit. Ibaraki-douji’s better half. Hana briefly smiled as she said Kasen’s name, but it faded quickly. “I…haven’t seen her since the Solstice. I’m starting to get worried, actually. We both had a hellish time whilst the HSE was around, and…I miss her. Before it all, she was one of the few people I could rely on. I’ve…Well, I’ve been worried that she doesn’t want to see any of us anymore. After everything that happened, I get it, but…I don’t want to lose her. Um…have you seen her…?” There was a hopeful note to her words.

“No.” Patchouli replied shortly. “She did not come here.” If Hana was doing bad, then Patchouli suspected that the last sage was doing even worse. But that wasn’t her business. Hana’s shoulders fell and she nodded silently. "As to your earlier apology, I'm sure there are others you are more close to that you could've spoken to. But sometimes, an outside perspective is useful." Patchouli let her hands fall into her lap, but paused as she felt a tug on her magic from the detection system. Something...above her. In the darkness. "Will that be all?" She asked, keeping her movements natural.

"I...Yeah. Yeah, thanks." Hana nodded and stood, pushing her chair back in. Once more, Patchouli found her disconcertingly similar to Reimu, but at the same time entirely different. "I don't know what I'll do now, but...thanks for talking to me."

And that was the point when something shot down out of the darkness above, so fast it was practically a blur. Patchouli's eyes barely tracked it, discerning the bat-like wings, the fangs, the mad grin. She watched as Hana spun, much as her mother would've done, her gohei appearing from nowhere, parrying the claws slamming down at her in a pirouette and sending her assailant into the corridor.

But while Reimu Hakurei's movements spoke of some ethereal ability to instinctually move just right, Hana Hakurei seemed to disappear into spaces that Patchouli could not comprehend. Just as had happened when Hana had jumped down into the library, she seemed to move in multiple directions all at once. It seemed to keep Hana perfectly in time with her opponent's lightning-fast attacks as she pounced back at Hana from the corridor, finding herself blocked by perfectly positioned gohei strikes and dodges. Finally, after an attack from the front which Hana barged into with her shoulder, Hana managed to throw the attacker back to the corridor, where she rolled back to her feet and stopped.

Dusting herself off, Remilia Scarlet slowly clapped. "Oh, very good!" She called, stretching her wings out.

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She’d recovered from the Solstice with a speed that the majority of other combatants hadn’t been lucky enough to have, but since everyone else was still laid up or paralysed by grief, she’d been going stir-crazy with no one to fight. "The end of the war hasn't slowed you down at all, hmm? Hana, I might have to keep a closer eye on you!"

"As if I could forget any of your tricks." Hana called back, holding her gohei straight at her side even as her body shifted into a more battle-ready stance. Patchouli sighed and rested her chin on her arm. It seemed that...certain individuals wanted to stress test the new library earlier than planned. "I won't let you get the drop on me ever again."

"Is that right? My, my, how quickly your ego grows. I’ll have to cut that back down to size." Remi rolled her shoulders and sighed dramatically. "Well, Hana Hakurei, I know how you fight against my spear, but how's your hand-to-hand? Perhaps I should test you." Already, Patchouli could see the damage they'd leave in their wake, and it was absolutely unacceptable.

"No, no!" Patchouli shouted, slamming her hands into her desk as she shot to her feet. "I will not have this!" Stomping out from behind the desk, she forcibly grabbed Hana's arm, dragging the girl behind her despite her stumbling and complaining. Remi seemed taken aback too as Patchouli stomped toward her and grasped her by the collar of her clothes, but she recovered quicker, hiding a laugh as Patchouli dragged the two away from her study. "I will not have you two demolish the library before it's even been built. Aside from the fact that construction is not yet finished, it would be incredibly rude to the Kurodani family!"

Hana tried and failed to pull herself free. "B-But, I—"

Patchouli cut Hana off with a glare. "If you want to fight, do it elsewhere!" With all her strength, Patchouli shoved Hana into Remi, knocking the two of them to the floor with none of the grace their skirmish had displayed. Breathing heavily, the magician herself stomped past them, leaving them to sort out their own fight. She had more important things to do.

Rounding a corner, Patchouli resumed floating, heading further into the wing of the library until the shelves began appearing increasingly bare. The silence rang in her ears, which she took as a good sign that the two idiots she’d left hadn’t started fighting, but Patchouli slowed herself down, becoming as silent as she could as she floated. Turning, she disappeared deeper into the bookshelves, and finally, she heard the muttering she’d been looking for.

"No, no, that one - ouch - you go there, not there. No, I know it's a new space, but..." The voice was obvious, and as Patchouli turned into the last row of bookshelves, she restrained a sigh.

Her favourite little devil had seen some injuries, and her particular type of species meant that recovery was taking her slightly longer than it might've done. Koakuma's arm was unusable, she'd taken a myriad of scratches and cuts, along with hits to the head, she still couldn't walk on her right leg, one of her back wings was still wrapped up, and so was one of her head wings. All this meant that she was strictly forbidden from working.

And yet, the siren call of the books that only she could hear seemed too much for her. So far, Patchouli had caught her twice, but she was getting better and better at sneaking in. Just when Patchouli had seen the end of Marisa Kirisame breaking in to take books away, she'd had to start dealing with Koakuma breaking in to leave books on the shelves. The little devil was currently down on her knees, her head half-buried in a bag full of books that she must've bribed a fairy maid to bring down for her, because she certainly couldn't have carried them by herself. She was holding herself strangely, clearly trying to keep her weight off of one leg, and her arm still remained out of commission, leaving her to rummage through her bag for books one-handed.

She continued to mutter under her breath. "Ah, you like it here? Okay, then let's..."

Patchouli cleared her throat, causing Koakuma to practically shriek in surprise, which in turn made her wings twitch, forcing the shriek to trail off into a pained whine as she turned around with great difficulty given how few usable limbs she was working with. "I believe I said that until you were cleared for work, you were to remain out of the library, recovering. Have I gone senile? Did I forget to give you that instruction, Koakuma? Well?"

Still kneeling, Koakuma finally succeeded in turning to face Patchouli, exposing a face as red as her hair even with the bandages and plasters still covering her forehead and cheek from where rubble had rained down on her. "U-Um, Lady Patchouli, I can explain—"

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Patchouli pinched the bridge of her nose. "No, Koakuma, don't try to explain. I don't need to hear outlandish excuses; You’ll only annoy me. Can you stand?" Patchouli didn't know why she'd bothered asking. However Koakuma had gotten down to the floor, she certainly couldn't reverse the feat. It was obvious in the way her blush intensified. Sighing, Patchouli knelt next to the girl, gently wrapped an arm around her, and helped her to her feet, trying to ignore her pained winces all the while. "I understand that your ability to hear the books makes this tortuous. That doesn't mean you can injure yourself further by working and worsening your injuries."

"Lady Patchouli..." Koakuma mumbled, her eyes sinking to the floor. Patchouli, still holding her up, sighed a second time and released her. Koakuma still stood, though slightly shakily. Her tail sunk low. "I just- I want to help...I couldn't do much during the Solstice, and in your ritual, I was—"

"Quiet." Patchouli cut her off, raising a hand. "I never want to hear you disparage yourself like that again. The fact is, I would not have completed the ritual to create Sekai's body if you hadn't helped me. Both you and Meiling made that night possible, and I could never have done it alone." Koakuma stayed silent, clearly trying to find a way to minimise her own role in the events. "This new library, Koakuma, is to be where we remain for a long, long time. It hasn't been finished yet. Would you want to work in an unfinished, unready library?"

"U-Um, well, no, Lady Patchouli, but I—"

"Then why, Koakuma, should I want to work with an unhealed, pained assistant?" Now Koakuma really stayed silent, and she looked rather shocked too. Patchouli heaved another sigh, letting her shoulder sag slightly. "I might have escaped the brunt of the physical damage, but I was left exhausted, physically and magically, after the Solstice. We are both weak and in recovery.” It was hard to overstate how much it had taken to bring Sekai into the world. “Koakuma, I need you. I need you by my side and I will always need you in this library. But you’re of no use to me if you are not at your full potential. What I need from you, right now, is not for you to try and stock the bookshelves. I need you to remain in bed, recovering." Patchouli inclined her head, clasping her hands behind her back. "Could you grant me this request?"

"L-Lady Patchouli, I..." Koakuma seemed to have tears in the corners of her eyes, and Patchouli suspected that if the little devil hadn’t been injured, she’d have been on the receiving end of another hug."Okay...I'll go back to bed. B-But, um, thank you. That...really means a lot." Koakuma weakly smiled, and Patchouli nodded back in approval. The girl looked like she was seriously considering an attempted hug despite her injuries, but fortunately, cooler heads prevailed. "Um, these books here—"

"Leave them. I'll see to it." Patchouli told her, determined to get her out of the library before she could change her mind. She eyed Koakuma dangerously, making sure that her assistant got the message.

Koakuma shakily nodded, limping past Patchouli and in the direction of the entrance to the library. Patchouli wondered how she'd even made it down from the entrance to the main atrium by herself. Did she have help? If so, hopefully Yamame or another Kurodani girl would be around to help her back up. Actually, that one entrance was a bad design choice. Patchouli made a mental note to get the Kurodani family to dig out a second entrance back up to the surface, preferably outside the mansion.

Kneeling again, Patchouli lifted the sack of books Koakuma had brought down with her and opened it, peering at the books inside. Though she was unable to hear the whispers that Koakuma could, she suspected that they could hear her. Patchouli leaned in closely and murmured, "if you could, please inform your compatriots that Koakuma is still in need of bed rest. Mark my works, you will all migrate to this library in time, but for now, I need you to let her recover." Of course, the books couldn't exactly answer her, so she appeared to just be talking to herself. Still, she hoped that the message was received.

Floating the sack alongside her, Patchouli returned to the main corridors of the new library. She let her thoughts wander as she floated forward. After all this time, she'd done as her Remnant self had asked. She, with Meiling and Remi's help, had accomplished a great work that could never be replicated.

But it had come at a cost.

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Patchouli had lied to Koakuma. She'd said that she was just left exhausted physically and magically by the events of the Solstice. But Patchouli knew that the damage ran far deeper. She'd scorched the veins that ran magic through her body and left herself weaker than she'd ever been - Even weaker than she'd been after that vengeful spirit had forced her into a coma. Whether or not the damage was fixable was something she didn't know, but she did know that if it was fixable, she would need to dedicate herself to that and only that, for an undetermined amount of time. Otherwise...she might not live much longer, and it wouldn't even take the usual poisons that a magician exposed themselves to to do her in.

Sighing, Patchouli rubbed her forehead tiredly and re-entered the main atrium, still floating the sack of books alongside her. Here she immediately spotted a new, but not entirely unwelcome addition.

Behind the heavy wooden desk in the atrium near the staircases which would become Koakuma's workspace, Someone reclined in a chair with her boots up on the desk. Someone with a large witch's hat on her head. "Let's see...Broke in, broke out, checked the top floors...Yeah, they're gonna need my help with this." Said witch was muttering to herself, leafing through a sheaf of papers in her hand. Patchouli dropped back down onto the ground, tutting under her breath as she levitated the sack of books over to the desk and dropped them down on top of it. That was enough to draw Marisa Kirisame's attention. "Oh, there you are, Patchouli! This place is too big; I thought I'd never find you! Figured you’d eventually get back here." Marisa seemed surprisingly cheerful. Despite a whole litany of post-Solstice injuries, and what had to be a severe emotional gut punch in Reimu’s death, she seemed to be holding herself together well enough. "Listen, I've been thinking about security - I think you should encase the whole library in some of those runic sequences that the HSE used to keep anything from breaking through from outside. That way, no one can tunnel in from the outside."

Patchouli paced to the other side of the counter, her hands clasped behind her back. "Good morning, Marisa." She told the witch sharply. "I don't remember inviting you here today. Take your feet off the desk, thank you." Rolling her eyes, Marisa did as she was asked, sitting up straighter. "As for your suggestion, it wouldn't be feasible for the entire library. Sakuya's ability to manipulate the space on the interior means attempts to do so externally will fail. Often explosively. It’s hard enough just to get the Kurodani family’s excavation efforts to work properly."

"Tch. Should've known. Sakuya's weird powers are always getting in the way." Marisa shook her head. "Guess she's recovered some, huh?"

Patchouli nodded. "Slowly but surely."

"Good to hear. I didn't tell you I was coming here 'cause I didn't know I was. I came to visit Hana and her dad, as well as Aunn. Wanted to see..." Marisa's eyes flickered to the side. She paused for a barely-perceptible amount of time, but Patchouli caught it nonetheless. "I wanted to see how they were...holding up, y'know?" Patchouli's fingers twitched.

The deep blue of a melancholy sadness greeted her. It was complemented by stormy greys, like there was some sort of conflict in Marisa’s heart. Those were the colours that made up Marisa Kirisame's emotional hues. And it was no surprise, of course. Even with their estrangement in the intervening decades, of course Marisa would take her loss hard.

But Reimu Hakurei was dead. And nothing could ever change that.

But deep beneath those surface emotions, there remained a fiery core that never stopped burning. Marisa had been many things in Patchouli's experience, but a quitter had never been one of them. Giving up just wasn't in her nature. Neither was succumbing to despair. "Well, I spoke to Hana and Aunn, anyway. Think they’re doing alright. I, uh...I figured Anon probably needed some space." Marisa shrugged sadly. "Lost his wife and all. Hopefully I’ll see him at the funeral." Ah. Patchouli had overheard a conversation between the green-haired Komainu and Hana, and Hana herself had reiterated it. The final rites of Reimu Hakurei would be taking place soon, at the Hakurei Shrine.

Patchouli had a bad feeling deep down in her gut. That place represented a whole host of bad memories for Anon, and Hana was determined to go through with the ceremony there. There was every chance it could turn out…poorly, which wouldn’t be good for either the new Shrine Maiden or the most traumatised man in Gensokyo.

Patchouli refocused her gaze on Marisa. “I’ve spoken to Hana just a few moments ago. I believe she’ll pull through. As far as Anon goes…” Patchouli breathed out through her nose. “It is difficult to say. And you?" She asked plainly. Inquiring into Marisa’s feelings. It was something she'd never have done six months ago. But Gensokyo had changed, and so had she.

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"Me? Ah, you know me. I'm always alright." Marisa favoured her with a grin that was almost enough to deflect questions.

"Are you?" Patchouli pressed, tilting her head. "You lost a dear friend."

"I spent nearly twenty years out of her life." Marisa replied, raising her hands in a shrug. "I mourned her loss a long time ago. Getting to be her friend again, the way we used to be...even if it was just for a short time...That was the greatest gift I could ask for. I always loved Reimu, even when she was acting like an idiot for all that time." Patchouli watched as Marisa smiled, her eyes distant. "Always wanted to yell at her. Tell her that she was wasting her life acting the way she was acting, that I'd seen how that kind of parenting could turn out first hand and I knew she was in for heartbreak. I doubted Hana would ever speak to her again." Marisa paused for a long while after mentioning Hana. “Right after Reimu’s death, I…I blamed Hana for a while. Thought she could’ve saved her. But after a day or so, when I’d had a second to breathe, I realised how stupid it was. Hana tried everything she could. It wasn’t her fault. Reimu made her own choices, and I’ve got nothing but pride for how she went.”

A short laugh escaped Marisa's lips. "Should've known she'd go out like she did. Saved her daughter's life, saved all our lives in the process, helped save Gensokyo one last time. Even though Yukari stole the ability from her, I bet some vestige of her float ability let her get that death. Heh, I should've known that she'd go out shining brighter than I ever could." It wasn’t hard to hear the venom in Marisa’s voice when she said Yakumo’s name. That was how the once-gap youkai would forever be spoken of.

Marisa fell silent for long enough that Patchouli almost spoke, but before she could, Marisa spoke again. "I don't get to cry for Reimu. She got the kind of death some people dream of. Got to go out on her own terms. Others...didn't get that luxury."

The witch's eyes fell again. Patchouli didn't have to think very hard to figure out what she was talking about. Of the many casualties during the Solstice, one could not miss perhaps the most brutal instance of indiscriminate slaughter in recent memory. One of the oni of the big four, Ibaraki-douji had been even more malevolent in reality than she had been in the stories. Her casual slaughter of Makai, Patchouli had learnt, had only taken minutes. But, as the saying goes, a million is a statistic.

And one is a tragedy.

Alice Margatroid had been the kind of magician to always make Patchouli grit her teeth in slight annoyance. It wasn't her personality, as Patchouli knew that she'd been nice enough to those who knew her, and Hana had sworn up and down that she was a good, nice person. It wasn't her specialty, as while Patchouli had never considered the dollmaker's particular avenues of research to be all that useful, the field could still contribute to something, had the dollmaker managed to achieve her ultimate goal of artificial, truly sentient life. No, the thing that had irritated Patchouli the most about Alice had been her refusal to use her full potential. She'd spent decades carrying that grimoire around with her, never opening it or letting anyone know what exactly was inside it, but always alluding to the great power contained inside. And then, when Ibaraki-douji came to remove the last Makaian from the world, Alice had never gotten the chance to open the book.

All that waiting, and she'd failed to use her strongest weapon when it mattered.

And now Patchouli would never know what the dollmaker had truly been capable of. The book was destroyed. Alice was another face amongst the dead now. Makai was gone, turned into a wasteland so desolate that not even the ghosts remained. After everything, Patchouli would never see her again. Everything would remain unfinished.

It was unfair. It was cruel. But Alice had been just an acquaintance of Patchouli’s. Their longest association had been related to Marisa, back when she'd dived into the underground looking for the cause of the geysers erupting into Gensokyo. Aside from that, the two had never spent any significant time together. For Marisa, however, Alice had been a close friend. "My condolences." Patchouli murmured, bowing her head slightly. “She will be missed.”

"Huh?" Marisa looked up, saw Patchouli's posture, and let a weak smile cross her face. "Oh. Yeah, thanks. I suppose it's a good thing Kasen's busy with her fancy new role. I don't...I think I shouldn't see her right now." Even in the wake of the HSE, pain begets more pain. The refusal of Kasen’s presence would only drive the hermit further away. "I know, it wasn't really the Kasen I knew, but...it's the same face. That evil came from her, and it went back to her. Even if she says it’s never going to happen again…I don't think I should look at Alice's killer right now."

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Patchouli didn't know the hermit in any real capacity, but she'd heard of her as an overly moral busybody, but someone who was, overall, a good person. She was probably hurting just as much for what her oni self had done. Marisa let the silence linger on, but took in a deep breath and tried to force some more enthusiasm into her voice. "Listen, I wanted to ask you about that."

"About?" Patchouli inquired.

"Alice...well, she didn't have any family left when she died. They're all gone, Patchouli. There's no one to...There's no one for me to invite. Nothing to bury, either."

"...I see." Patchouli murmured. Who could you invite to a funeral for a whole plane of existence?

"Alice wasn’t like Reimu. She won’t have a funeral that everyone will go to. If I don’t do something, she’ll just become some footnote in history - some single line in a book somewhere marking her as one of the casualties. So..." Marisa looked up at Patchouli with a slight sniffle, but something harder appeared behind her eyes. "She deserves some sort of recognition. No, they all do. Everyone who died for Yukari's stupid - stupid fucking schemes. All the kids who Anon fathered, the ones that died in the violence. Alice’s dolls. Even the kid Yukari never got to have. They all deserve to be remembered."

""Lest we forget..."" Patchouli murmured. Marisa looked up at her blankly and she quickly remembered that matters from the outside world wouldn't have been something she knew of. "Apologies. It’s an excellent sentiment. What is it you plan to do?"

Marisa sighed, breathing out heavily. She shrugged. "Dunno yet. Something - Some kind of memorial. In the village, maybe. Keine’s whole magical life-restoring thing seems to be helping them knit that place back together pretty fast. I still have some sway down there - Maybe I can get a memorial area established.” Marisa looked off into the distance; Patchouli wondered what it was she was seeing. “I just...I can't go back to what I was doing before all this, and after the war, I think I'm sick of combat spells. I've spent most of my life stealing things; Time to give something back." Marisa let a slight smile cross her face. Patchouli's fingers twitched again; some more tinges of happy pinks and reds greeted her. "Well, I gave you all your books back already. But...you know what I mean."

"I do. I hope you succeed, Marisa." Patchouli nodded and found that she'd actually smiled back. At Marisa Kirisame, no less. How things changed. “The dead should not be forgotten.”

"Oh, I almost forgot! We need to figure out a day for when I, uh..." Awkwardly, Marisa patted her still flat stomach. "Can't say I'm looking forward to pregnancy again, but those kids ain't gonna birth themselves." In the turmoil of the war, Patchouli had almost forgotten that she'd separated Marisa from her own pregnancy. In fairness, she’d been very busy at the time.

"We can work something out." Patchouli agreed. "But not today." She didn’t say anything, but it would have to be soon. Too long without starting work on fixing her body, and she might not have the strength to perform the ritual.

Marisa nodded. "Nah, not today. I've gotta go and see some more people. Start making a complete list of the dead or something. Go and talk to Keine, see if I can get a patch of the village for a memorial." Marisa pushed Koakuma's chair back and hopped up, then vaulted over the desk despite the exasperated sigh Patchouli gave at her actions. She sported a wide grin, as if the heavy topics they’d just been discussing had been completely washed away. "Gotta strike while the iron's hot, yanno? The exact way Reimu wouldn't've done!" Marisa reached her hand out to the side and beckoned; her broom, waiting against one of the atrium's pillars, shot into her hand. She hopped up onto it, landing with perfect balance. Now, Patchouli had to look up at her. "Hey, I've been meaning to say..."

Patchouli eyed her curiously, wondering what else she could have on her mind. "Yes?"

Marisa grinned. "You look real pretty with your hair like that. You should keep it." Patchouli blushed scarlet before she'd even realised it. She still didn't feel like wearing her old cap with the missing crescent moon on it, even though Sekai was alive and well, so she'd continued wearing the ponytail she'd worn before the ritual. In truth, she was getting slightly more used to it than she'd expected to.

Briefly scattered, stammers were all she could get out. "W-What are you - I mean, I..." Patchouli forced herself to take in a deep breath. "...Yes, very good. Thank you for the compliment, Marisa." Belatedly, she realised she needed to return the favour.

So, just before Marisa could shoot off for the exit, Patchouli spoke. "Marisa." The witch looked back over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised. "You are...an excellent magician. And I'm glad to know you." And somehow, Patchouli found that she'd uttered the truth.

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When Marisa had first brought her books back, Patchouli had forgiven her, but told her that it didn’t mean she liked the witch. And now, after so many years, after so many insults, so many stolen books and asthma attacks, danmaku duels and spilt cups of tea, after failing to say it to Alice before it was too late, Patchouli Knowledge finally told Marisa Kirisame how she truly felt about the witch.

And Marisa looked stunned, her eyes wide as Sekai's had been earlier. But unlike Sekai, she quickly recovered, launching into a grin as wide and bright as the sun itself as she readjusted her stance on the broom. "You're getting soft in your old age. A year ago you'd have just thrown a fireball at me. Thank you, Patchouli." And away she shot, up to the ceiling and blasting out of the doors in a flash.

Patchouli watched her go, an unreadable expression on her face. Finally, she shook her head and tried not to smile. She'd done more talking to people today than she'd spent the majority of her life doing, and yet...she didn't feel quite satisfied. Oh, most of them, she'd said her piece, but there was one person she hadn't spoken to yet. One person who’d stuck with her through thick and thin, and one person who she couldn’t go without speaking to. So, before any more time could pass, Patchouli shot away from the atrium and upward, heading straight out of the doors and up into the mansion’s basement.

The corridors remained empty, but the mansion did not remain silent. As Patchouli floated along the basement, past the boxes of supplies haphazardly packed against the walls by the Kurodani family, she heard the muffled giggling of Remi's dearly corrupted sister in her room. A part of Patchouli yearned to examine Flandre. She wanted to find out just what Yukari Yakumo had done to her. On the rare occasion that she’d seen Flandre since the Solstice, her shockingly purple eyes had pierced into Patchouli’s heart. But at the same time, she didn't think it mattered. Flandre was still alive and Yukari was not. For all Yukari's talents, she was not the sort of person to plant a seed of her consciousness in Flandre, or anything of that sort. There had been something between Flandre and Yukari - Something strange and disconcerting, but something that Patchouli strongly suspected was about as close to affection as Yukari was capable of feeling. At the end, in the middle of the Solstice, Patchouli suspected that some twisted love had compelled Yukari to save Flandre.

Now, the bakeneko who had inherited her control of the Gap? Patchouli wasn’t so sure about that one. Yakumo had certainly never seemed interested in the cat. She’d barely seemed interested in the fox. There was certainly a chance that Yukari lingered on in some diminished, perverse form. But…no, Yukari was dead and would remain that way forever. The others had outlived her.

The question, then, was whether or not they had survived her. Patchouli emerged into the mansion's main hall with the bakeneko on her mind. Traumatised, most definitely. In control of Yukari's powers, too. That, she felt, was dangerous territory. If some remnant of the sage had survived inside her, then what was Chen hearing and seeing at every moment of the day? What dark whispers were hanging around her? And in the future…

Turning, Patchouli was surprised to nearly bump into something tall. Awkwardly floating backward to make space, she looked up to find a shadow of a man who looked lost. So lost, in fact, that it took her a few moments to even connect the dots and realise that this was Hana Hakurei's father, in the flesh and free from the HSE. It hadn't been that long since she'd been trapped in the building with him, but in the intervening time, the man looked like he'd aged tenfold. Deep bags hung under his eyes, his clothes - Thankfully nondescript, a far cry from that farce of an outfit he'd been forced to wear in the building - hung from his body limply, and his limbs stayed tucked in close to him. This was no longer the man who’d married Reimu Hakurei. This was the shadow of a ghost of a man who’d been put through hell.

"S-Sorry, de- Ah, er..." Anon trailed off, shaking his head weakly. "...Miss Patchouli," he finally tried again. Patchouli's ears picked up the mishap immediately. Had it been what she thought it was? An automatic response? Perhaps she'd been even closer in the estimation she'd provided to Hana than she'd thought. "I was just...walking," he told her, his voice weak and tired.

"So I see." Patchouli replied, watching as Anon crossed his arms in what he certainly didn't know was a defensive gesture. "Remi has no doubt given you the freedom to do so." Patchouli's fingers twitched. She'd expected something bad - Full blown despair as she’d once thought was certainly possible - but she was pleasantly pleased to find that while grief and sadness certainly ran riot in Anon's mind, there was still a strong emotional core there for him to hang onto.

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He was a far cry from what he’d been in the HSE, for both good and bad. "You’re the second Hakurei I've run into today."

Anon seemed to perk up a little. "Second...Hana? You've spoken to Hana today?" He uncrossed his arms and his words quickened slightly as he leaned in. "I saw her with Marisa earlier...But I didn't interrupt. I don’t want to be a bother."

The quickness of his words suggested worry. Or fear. The scars of the HSE ran deep - Patchouli knew that from experience, even if it was of a different kind. The man's fear responses had been finely honed, much like an abused dog. Whether or not he could overcome them was up to him. The hurried nature of his assurance that he hadn’t interrupted Marisa suggested that either he was scared of speaking to her, or scared of someone else’s reaction to him mentioning her.

“It is none of my business whether or not you wish to interrupt them." Patchouli replied slowly, watching Anon’s shoulders relax the barest amount. "But perhaps you'll find that the easiest way to regain your life is to not let things fester."

"A-Ah..." Anon nodded weakly, running a hand through his hair. "It's just...hard. Honestly, I feel like Hana's more grown up than I am now." Patchouli wasn't interested in his family drama, but she'd waded in with her words. Perhaps this was what her gut had been telling her. Hana and Anon had a very different dynamic now. And…perhaps she owed this to him. His presence in the HSE had provided some measure of connection to reality for both her and Meiling during their forced year there. The least she could do was talk to him now. "...She's so...I look at her sometimes, and I just see Reimu, but then I look again and I can only see all the things that make her different from Reimu. The things that make her Hana." A smile flitted across his face for a split second before fading as a wistfulness overtook it. "My little girl's all grown up. It’s a little scary. And...I missed it all. And now, she’s so strong that she doesn’t seem to slow down, and that scares me even more. It almost makes me wonder if she even needs me around anymore."

Patchouli, rather older and wiser than the man who was quite a lot taller than her, restrained the urge to roll her eyes. "Quite the sentiment. She is a child still. She still has plenty of childhood to go through.” Patchouli wondered if Anon was just feeling sorry for himself, or if he truly believed this. “Hana Hakurei is a child who has just lost her mother. And though you did not have the best history with her, you are a man who lost the woman you once loved, not to mention everything else you have been through. Both of you are in need of support, either from each other or from those around you." Just leave me out of it, Patchouli thought but didn't say. Her own family drama was enough of a handful; She didn't need Hakurei family drama on top of it.

Anon’s face grew pensive. “I want to help Hana. She’s my daughter. But the more she fights, the more…” He fell silent for so long that Patchouli almost decided to move on. “...The more like Reimu she looks.” Patchouli breathed in deeply. That certainly didn’t seem like a good sign for Anon’s relationship with his daughter. “And I’ve seen that sharpness in a Hakurei’s eyes before. It…wasn’t good.”

“...So I see.” Patchouli replied slowly. “I suppose I can see why that might be worrying for you. But, if I might offer an alternative perspective - Without you, what would she have to fight for? What would she have to come home to? She might look similar, but Hana Hakurei is not Reimu Hakurei, and she does not have to be. Only you can truly teach her that.” Patchouli had done her best, but Hana didn’t have any reason to take anything she said to heart. They were little more than strangers. “If you wish to see her, I believe she and Remi are currently violently working off some lingering frustrations from the war somewhere spacious. I’m rather certain that Hana would prefer to speak to you in person rather than both of you unknowingly using me as an intermediary. My suggestion is to try the rooftops first." What she did not mention was that she suspected that Marisa had headed that way as well. The witch had looked like she'd needed a moment to herself earlier.

Anon paled slightly. “More violence…” He murmured weakly. “Sorry, I know it’s not the same. And I know by now that Hana can take care of herself. Reimu…that was always what she wanted for Hana. Even if she chose the wrong methods, even if she was…a poor mother and a poor wife, I truly believe that what she wanted deep down was for our daughter to be able to take care of herself.” Anon nodded shakily. "I...Yeah. I should go and find Hana. I'm just...not good with wide open spaces anymore." While the HSE had presented a façade of openness, Patchouli was very well aware of what the real dimensions of the space that she'd been trapped in were. Anon seemed to have trouble finding the right words. "Everything feels too big."

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"Reality is often like that." Patchouli replied, looking through the stained glass in the mansion’s front door to the big wide world beyond. Cast in varying colours, the world looked foreboding through a piece of red glass, but hopeful through a light green piece. It was all up to interpretation. "Too big and too hard to understand, and all we can do is cling to what normalcy we can find to try and hold on. But cowering in fear is rarely a solution either. Sometimes the only thing we can do is take the first step."

"But I can't just - just try and go anywhere. I can’t leave Hana. I need to stay with her. After this whole war business, I have to - to..." But Anon seemed to be struggling with words now. Hana was his rock, it seemed. The place of normalcy he cowered in. And for Hana, her father was her source of worry. It seemed that they were only pushing each other further away the longer things went on. This holding pattern they were stuck in…it would help no one.

Patchouli raised a hand and fixed him with her gaze again. Echoing the words she’d given to Hana, she spoke. "It's not selfish to make your own choices, Anon, just as Hana and Reimu made theirs. Especially when you have not had such a luxury for a long time. No one can force you out into the big wide world, but sheltering in your place of safety only serves to obscure your view. If you are not enjoying yourself, then your only recourse should be to find somewhere that you do enjoy."

Anon stared at her, seemingly paralysed. “...I enjoyed gardening. In the - the HSE, when Miss Yuuka visited, we…” He paused, swallowing weakly. Patchouli remembered, of course. There had been times where she and Meiling had sat in on Yuuka Kazami’s gardening lessons. They’d been some of the few periods of normalcy the two had enjoyed, pretending that they were part of the world and not trapped beyond it. “I should…speak to her again…” Anon murmured, his gaze falling to the floor. It was a start, Patchouli supposed.

Patchouli stepped past Anon on her way to the mansion's front door. She paused just as she placed her hand on the door handle. Over the year she’d spent in the HSE, Patchouli had learnt a lot about Anon’s past. About his time with Reimu and, later on, Hana’s childhood. "You spent a long time under other people's thumbs, so take this reminder. You control your life now." Patchouli pulled open the doors without another word, floating out into the courtyard and pulling the door shut behind her as Anon stared at her, his face contemplative.

Outside, Gensokyo had changed. For the twilight hours of the year, Gensokyo almost looked summery. The flowers in the courtyard had bloomed well out of season, leaving spatterings of crimson, sunny yellow, and bright orange all around, and from what Patchouli understood, the hakutaku in the village had something to do with it. It was probably some sort of grand gesture to mark the end of the Solstice, but it was a stupid and short-sighted one that seemed like it would only serve to throw off the seasonal blooms once the next spring rolled around. Frankly, she was surprised that Yuuka Kazami hadn’t gone apoplectically furious over it. This sort of behaviour would just lead to the flowers being killed when the cold set back in.

Of course, even with Keine Kamishirasawa’s powers, it was hard to miss the gigantic skeleton that still littered the land. The great dragon that had been killed in the fighting still made his presence known, and while in time, the skeleton would crumble, it would always leave an impression on the land.

And though Patchouli couldn't see it from the ground, she understood that the stump of what had once been Sekai's tree, the great Yggdrasil, still remained, even if the tree itself had been averted from collapsing on Gensokyo, though averting it had cost the secret goddess her life. Personally, Patchouli could handle that. In several hundred years, it would be a fairy tale - An eye catching impression upon the world with a great deal of history surrounding it. Children would ask their parents, and perhaps by then even their parents wouldn’t be sure if the story behind the stump was true or not.

A breeze rolled about the place, feeling gentle now but with a hint of something foreboding underneath. This was a brave new world, and it would be people like Hana Hakurei who had to navigate it. The youkai and humans of Gensokyo were reeling back right now, licking their wounds and grieving their dead, but it was only a matter of time before someone tried to make an opportunity of it, using the death of the previous Shrine Maiden as an excuse to rampage.

But Patchouli wasn't here to ruminate on the state of Gensokyo. Not right now. She only needed to go as far as the other side of the wrought iron gates. The rest of the world could wait.

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Hong Meiling. Chinese youkai. Gatekeeper. Ki master and martial arts expert. Meiling was all of these things, but she'd become something more to Patchouli in the time of the HSE.

In one day that had lasted a year, Patchouli Knowledge had become entangled with Meiling in a way that she doubted could ever change back to the way it had used to be. In a shattered twilight reality existing outside the regular space of the HSE, in the midst of a battle that was a little goddess's first taste of the world, Hong Meiling and Patchouli Knowledge had become parents. And now, Meiling had become someone that Patchouli could always rely on. She had become someone who, like Remi, she could trust implicitly with any and all problems. Someone whose views and opinions she greatly valued, and someone who could, and indeed, had, put her life on the line for Patchouli more than once. It might've paled in comparison to all the years Patchouli had lived without Meiling's presence, but somehow, she found the idea of spending too long without seeing the gatekeeper to be distasteful now.

She was made aware of voices before she even reached the gate. "And - And then she didn't even react! She just left! I thought I could surprise her this time and I blew it!" The voice was petulant and overly emotional.

Typical.

"Aw, that's just how Lady Patchouli is. She's super strong mentally, so you never get her with stuff like that." And there was Meiling's smoother, unflappably cheerful tone. It had a somewhat invigorating effect on Patchouli. "I think the Mistress spent a while trying once, and she never got her either." Patchouli found that she'd paused, somewhat eager to hear more of the conversation. She’d never really cared about what other people thought of her before the HSE. "But, you know, I'll tell you a bit of a secret..." Meiling's voice dropped and Patchouli's hearing proved no match for the wind and the whispers, so she hurried closer.

Sekai's gasped intake of breath was hard to miss. "R-Really!?" She asked excitedly.

No, thought Patchouli. No, this would not do. Damn all the positive things she'd just thought about Meiling, the woman had to die if she was giving away Patchouli’s secrets. She floated the rest of the way to the gate and then shot herself over the top of it. Then, she paused, baffled.

Sekai sat on Meiling's leg, her legs swinging in the air. That itself wasn't really the problem, but the gatekeeper was still standing, adopting one of those strange martial arts poses that she loved so much. It developed discipline, or so Patchouli had been told. She held the pose perfectly, even with Sekai's added weight. After a second, Patchouli accepted it. It was just another reminder of the gatekeeper's prowess. "Are you telling secrets, Meiling?" She asked, alighting on the ground next to Meiling.

Her presence was apparently the trigger for Meiling to fail, as she awkwardly tried to stand up straight and yet remain in her pose at the same time, causing her to lose balance and automatically stand up straight. That in turn caused Sekai to fall with a surprised cry. Patchouli, suppressing a sigh, waved a hand and caught Sekai in midair, gently lowering the girl back to the ground. As she released her grip, she felt that twinge again in the back of her mind. The strain on her magic following the Solstice, yet again. It seemed slightly more pronounced this time, which worried her. If the extent of the damage was even greater than she’d feared, then staying in Gensokyo would suddenly be a lot more difficult.

"Mother Patchouli!" The little goddess cried cheerfully as she jumped forward and wrapped her arms around Patchouli’s leg. Patchouli staggered slightly at the sudden weight, but got her balance back and gently pulled Sekai off.

"L-Lady Patchouli!" Meiling's reply was more scattered. "Er, I was just, uh, I mean - Sekai was telling me about—" Patchouli sighed and raised a hand, and Meiling shut up before she could babble any more scattered nonsense. It was somewhat endearing, but ultimately pointless.

"Oh, stop that." Patchouli told the blushing gatekeeper pointedly. "And you, little brat, stop running to Meiling every time you want to complain about me." Sekai proudly stuck her tongue out at Patchouli, who resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Children… "You will have to learn to fight your own battles eventually."

"I can fight my own battles now! I just didn't want to!" The only way Sekai’s words could be true was if her petulance was the battle she was fighting. The girl's hat had once again fallen, but Patchouli didn't feel like stooping down for her again, so she twitched her fingers to raise the thing into the air and deposit it back on Sekai's head. "O-Oh, um..." Suddenly, the child seemed bashful, reaching up to secure the thing on her head. "Thank you, mother..." She mumbled, her gaze dropping.

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Meiling finally managed to get her composure back, and she immediately switched into concern. "Lady Patchouli, are you sure you should be coming out here dressed like that? It's...kind of cold." She wasn't wrong; The cool breeze certainly cut deep. Patchouli's usual outfits were designed for the library, after all. In fact, Patchouli certainly could feel it. "Here - Um, let me just..." Awkwardly, Meiling went to shrug off her vest, but she seemed to realise halfway that it wouldn't really make much of a difference. "Oh, I can at least give you this..." Stepping over to the gate, she pulled her hat off the bars where it had been hanging and gently placed it on Patchouli's head, stepping closer and adjusting it to fit better against Patchouli’s ponytail. Patchouli looked up at the taller girl, utterly baffled at her actions. "Um, did you want to talk?" Meiling asked quietly, her voice a smooth and gentle murmur.

Resolving to worry about all that later, Patchouli needlessly went to adjust the hat, only to find that it was already sitting perfectly. "Talk...Yes, I suppose so." She finally replied. "I seem to be doing a lot of talking today."

"O-Oh, well, um, we don't have to talk if you don't want to. I can just—"

Sekai giggled, looking between the two of them. "Mother Meiling, I can't believe you're so dense!"

"D-Dense!?" Meiling asked, aghast, as she looked down at Sekai in complete confusion. Patchouli, meanwhile, glared daggers at the goddess, certain that she was about to say something aggravating. "Why?"

Sekai giggled some more. Patchouli narrowed her eyes even further at the girl, wondering how disciplining children was supposed to work when you couldn't just toss a fireball at them. "Because it's you that Mother Patchouli wants to talk to!" She exclaimed, hopping back as Patchouli made a grab for her.

"Quiet, brat." Patchouli growled. "Have you spoken to your true father yet?" At that, Sekai's demeanour soured, which Patchouli momentarily took as a victory before finding that she felt a little bad about that. "I'll take that as a no. As a matter of fact, I've just spoken to him. Perhaps you could find it in you to speak to the man to whom you owe your existence."

Sekai bit her lip and started fidgeting with her hands. Before long, Meiling awkwardly turned back to Patchouli. "Lady Patchouli, m-maybe this isn't—"

But Patchouli shook her head. "No, Meiling. It's very much the right time. Sekai, listen to me. You once told us that if it were not for Yukari Yakumo, if it were not for Anon Hakurei, and if it were not for the child that Yakumo once carried, then you would have been born as the nightmare that the HSE truly was. You would not have been born as this child - As this wonderful being who stands before us. You would have been a nightmarish existence the likes of which would probably tear Gensokyo apart. But as a result of your actions - As a result of our actions - you gained a measure of control over your fate."

Sekai held her silence for a second longer, but she looked up at Patchouli and finally spoke. "...Yes, Mother. I couldn't exist the way I am now if it hadn't been for them. But - But..." And she fell silent. Patchouli watched her for a moment, her mind whirling through thoughts. Something was needling at her.

“Sekai.” Patchouli murmured, turning toward the girl. “We can only help you if you want to be helped. In order for us to do that, you must tell us when something is wrong.”

It took a minute more, but Sekai broke eventually. Her lip trembled. Tears grew in her eyes. "B-But even though I wrote her fate for as long as I could, I couldn't...I-I couldn't save..." And in an instant, Patchouli knew exactly what was happening. It had been stupid of her not to realise.

Hana Hakurei and Yuyuko Saigyouji had brought about the final and absolute death of Yukari Yakumo. They had ended her existence, and with her went her unborn child. With her went any chance of fulfilling Sekai's words, spoken to the Remnant versions of Patchouli and Meiling in that twisted reflection of the HSE. This was it, then. It was a wonder that Sekai had held on for as long as she had.

The tears spilled from Sekai's eyes, hot and heavy. "I-I couldn't save sis Renko...!" She almost cried, doubling over as the sobs wracked her tiny body. Patchouli watched, her mind whirling. This was the first time she'd heard Sekai bring up the child. So far, she'd been content to live in the present and not dwell on the past. Patchouli had thought that she was just taking one of her own lessons to heart, but it was obvious that she'd just pushed it to the side, tried not to think about it, tried to pretend it hadn't existed...Because the alternative was to confront what she perceived to be her failure.

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And here, Patchouli found that she was faced with a choice. Any moment now, Meiling would rush to draw Sekai into her arms, whispering comforting words and telling Sekai that everything was okay. Patchouli had milliseconds at best. Sekai was brand new to living, to existing in a world where she could not write the fate of everything to go her way. This failure was a truth that she needed to face if she ever wanted to continue living happily. Sekai would expect the treatment from Meiling. It wouldn’t be what she needed to draw her out of the emotional tantrum. She needed to learn this lesson herself.

But that didn't mean she had to learn it alone.

Thus it was Patchouli Knowledge who stepped forward first, just before Meiling could move. It was Patchouli Knowledge who dropped to one knee and opened her arms, drawing the sobbing goddess in front of her against her in a tight hug. It was Patchouli who murmured the words into her ear. "You did not kill the child, Sekai. Yukari Yakumo sealed her own fate. It was not your fault." And though Sekai couldn't stop crying, she weakly nodded her head. A split second later, Meiling had joined them, dropping to her knees too and embracing Sekai along with Patchouli. Her body was hot, almost burning from the discipline training she'd been doing, and it was obvious that Sekai drew comfort from it. Meiling's arms enclosed around them both, and Patchouli found that she felt slightly better too, which she attributed to the warmth against the chill of the wind.

"Cry, Sekai." Patchouli murmured. She recalled Remi's words as Patchouli's memories and her Remnant self's memories had wound themselves back together. As Patchouli had knelt, her hands balled up in the charred remains of Remi’s dress, and sobbed with joy at seeing her dear friend again. "There are times when tears can tell us what words cannot."

It was minutes later before Sekai's tears came to an end. By then, the trio had relocated from the side of the gate to the wall, Patchouli and Meiling sitting side-by-side as Sekai remained wedged between them. "That's better." Meiling gently smiled as Sekai wiped her eyes dry. "Your ki can't remain in balance if your emotions are all bottled up. It's good to let them out." She shot a look at Patchouli that was slightly less gentle. "I probably wouldn't have done that, Lady Patchouli."

"No, you wouldn't. You would have been too gentle." Patchouli replied mildly, squinting at the Misty Lake as she tried to determine if the vague movement she could see out there was the yuki-onna or not. If it was, she was probably terribly confused at the weather she’d emerged to find. "Sekai does not need someone to coddle her. Comfort her, yes, but it is important that she face reality." It was obvious from Meiling's look that she didn't quite agree.

Sekai's voice hadn't quite returned to its cheerful cadence yet, but it was approaching normal again. "You didn't call me a brat this time, Mother Patchouli. For you, that's practically coddling~"

Damn, thought Patchouli. The brat had a point. "Hm." She forced herself to respond. "Either way, do not expect this treatment regularly." She let a few more seconds of silence filled in by the wind pass. "However, you do not get to escape the conversation that easily. Your True Father, as you refer to him. Anon Hakurei. You should spend time with him. He is human, after all. You should know by now how fragile and short their lives are compared to ours."

Sekai let her gaze drop again, but she held onto her emotions this time. "I...I know. I just...I don't want him to hate me” It was such a basic childish worry that Patchouli almost gave in to some more sympathy. “I'm the personification of the building that trapped him for all that time. All that bad stuff that happened during the Solstice - he'll never forget it, but I’ll always remember it as the day I was born. I wouldn't exist if it hadn't happened to him.” Sekai fell silent for a moment. “...He'll probably hate me."

Meiling squeezed Sekai's hand tightly. "Not a chance, Sekai. Anon's a really nice person, he'd never hate you!" She nodded cheerfully and emphatically. "And I think he probably needs some friends right now..." The gatekeeper mumbled quietly. Patchouli didn't say anything, but silently agreed. It was blindingly obvious that if the man had any hope of returning to something resembling a normal life, it'd require plenty of people to support him. Who better than the newborn goddess that was just as intimately connected to what he'd been through as him?

"If it would help..." Patchouli began, pausing thoughtfully. "Ask Yamame Kurodani to come with you. She's experienced in this area." Even as she said it, she wasn't sure why she thought that. There was some part of her that was certain that if anyone could help out with Anon and Sekai, it was the spider.

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That lingering feeling - The disconcerting sensation of feelings that Patchouli hadn't known were hers - That she'd felt while she was at Yamame's house seemed to have quietened down with the passage of time, but they hadn’t vanished. At this point, it was hard to say where the divide between her feelings and the feelings she had been feeling was. The lines had blurred.

And besides, it seemed that everyone currently staying in the mansion needed a friend right now. The bakeneko, possibly dealing with the whispers of an evil creature that she would never escape. The taotie, fallen to grief in the aftermath of the fox’s loss. All those who Reimu had had an effect on over the years. Even Yamame with her wide-reaching family network had been forced out of their home. They were vulnerable, and it was clear that Remi had felt that offering everyone she could shelter and support was the path fate wanted her to take.

Sekai pondered for a few moments, but then she bravely nodded, squeezing her hands together. "You're...You're right. You're both right, mothers. I'm going to see Miss Yamame, and then I'm going to go and see my True Father properly!" She hopped up, landing awkwardly on Meiling's leg in the process and making her wince, but she kept it quiet and unnoticeable. "Thank you both. Really!" The little goddess said, her cadence returning to something more cheerful. In a flagrant display of the many abilities she had pulled from the myriad visitors of the HSE, Sekai swiped her hand down and pulled open a Gap, though it bore only some similarities to what its previous owner’s version of the ability looked like. Through it, Patchouli caught the murky sight of the Borderlands that Yukari Yakumo had once frequented. Sekai jumped through with no hesitation.

Patchouli and Meiling were left sitting there. "She's very enthusiastic." Meiling commented in the silence left by Sekai's exit. "It's...really cute."

"...Indeed." Patchouli muttered in reply, trying not to let Sekai's cuteness get to her. Best not let the brat get too big of a head. "I believe she'll be just fine. I'd accept no less." Meiling giggled, which made the frown creasing Patchouli's brow deepen further. “I just hope that everyone else is also okay. It would be a rather lonely existence if Sekai is the only person left who wasn’t broken by the Solstice.”

"I think we’re both doing okay…” Meiling murmured. “So’s Remi, and Miss Sakuya. Koa’s recovering, too…But I get it.” Blinking, Meiling looked back down at Patchouli. “Oh, er, you probably don't want to sit down there forever, huh...?" Meiling shifted, but that meant the warmth of her body left Patchouli, and she found that unpleasant. "Here, let me..."

Patchouli shook her head, slightly faster than she’d intended to. "No, Meiling. It's okay. Just...stay there for a few moments longer." Because of Patchouli's anaemia, of course. The idea of getting to her feet seemed like something insurmountable right now. But Meiling slowly nodded and returned to her previous position, her hand falling next to Patchouli's. "I need to talk to you about something, regardless."

That strain. That feeling that wouldn't leave her alone. But before she said anything, she returned to looking out across Gensokyo. Out in the distance, past the Misty Lake, lay the Forest of Magic. Out there lay the home that Alice would never return to, no doubt still left as if she was going to come back. Maybe Marisa had already been there, looking for something to remember the dollmaker by. The thought left some strange feeling in the pit of Patchouli's stomach, but she only sighed and rubbed her forehead tiredly. Tiredness seemed to be taking hold of her more often than usual lately. Patchouli let her eyes slide shut for a moment, trying to keep herself together. It would do no good to talk so loftily to Sekai if she was going to be on the verge of breaking down too.

Just a second or two of meditation...

"Lady Patchouli...?" Meiling murmured quietly. Patchouli blinked, finding that the world had changed slightly. For one, the sun had sunk slightly in the sky, suggesting that it had been longer than the few seconds that Patchouli thought she'd had her eyes closed. And two, everything was slightly tilted. Her head was resting on something. What was it...? "You, um, drifted off..."

Oh.

It was Meiling's shoulder. She was resting her head on the gatekeeper, and it appeared that her arm had curled around Meiling’s in her sleep. How curious. Patchouli forced herself back upright, pressing her back against the wall surrounding the mansion. "I apologise, Meiling." Patchouli hurriedly told her, patting down the hair that wasn't pulled back into that ponytail she was sporting. The thing had gotten slightly messy since she’d been asleep, but for the most part, it was okay. Meiling’s hat had fallen to the floor at some point, and now the gatekeeper toyed with the piece of apparel in her hands. "You should've woken me up sooner."

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But Meiling shook her head. "You looked like you needed the rest, Lady Patchouli. Ever since we sat over there with Sekai, right after the Solstice, you've been looking exhausted." Patchouli noticed then that the gatekeeper too looked like she needed a rest. She was hiding it, certainly, but there were slight bags under her eyes, and a slight wooziness in how she moved. Like a split second delay on her movements. "A-And, um, I don't mind. You know, if you want to lean on me or anything." Patchouli shook her head, trying to force it to clear up from the post-nap haze slightly faster.

"That's...what I needed to talk to you about." Patchouli hesitated, wondering how to explain it in terms Meiling could understand. "Not leaning on you, that is. My tiredness." Once more she paused, but there was no point dancing around the subject. "Ever since the Solstice, I have been feeling a sense of strain when I use my magic. It appears to be worsening, albeit slowly. I suspect that the rituals, both to create Sekai's body and then to transfer her essence to it, have caused me to scorch...for lack of a better descriptor, the veins that my magic runs through." Patchouli looked at Meiling, but found her wide-eyed and biting her lip as fear seemed to spread through the gatekeeper’s body.

"A-Are you going to be okay...?" Meiling asked gently, leaning forward toward Patchouli. "But Lady Patchouli, you were born a magician. If you stopped being able to do magic..." Meiling didn't need to finish the sentence. If Patchouli stopped being able to do magic, she'd stop being. Period. Fortunately, she'd jumped to an extreme that was absolutely not going to happen.

"Calm yourself, Meiling. It is not that bad. And I will not let it become that bad." Patchouli raised a hand to calm Meiling. "I believe that, with time and patience, I can work past this. It’s somewhat similar to forging a new path around a blockage on a road." It would take time and solitude, the kind that she wouldn't get in the mansion right now. "Meiling, how is your Ki control right now? The fine details, please."

Here, Meiling faltered, confirming Patchouli’s suspicions. "A-Ah. Um, ever since the Solstice, it's been a little...off. That's why I was doing discipline training before." Patchouli suspected that pushing all the energy of Sekai's transference through Meiling had probably had some adverse effects, even if Meiling's extraordinary discipline had made her excellent at ignoring it. It was no surprise. Everyone else had taken physical damage - Patchouli and Meiling had taken a lot of spiritual and magical damage. And everyone had taken emotional damage of some sort. "It's like...like when I was just starting ki training. Like my ability to control it has slipped slightly and I'm not sure how to get it back. Maybe I have to start all over..."

To Patchouli, the answer seemed simple enough. "Starting from scratch isn't a bad thing, Meiling. Fundamentals are important to any discipline, be it martial arts or magic." She looked out over the slowly darkening sky. The Hakutaku's actions might've temporarily made Gensokyo seem summery, but it was still the depths of winter and the days were short. "The library will not be complete for some time. The Kurodani family already knows what they need to do, but they have been forced to divide their work force to try and dig out their tunnels. It will likely be slow progress on their end, but it will leave the place too noisy to comfortably work in."

"Ah, is that so...?" Meiling asked hesitantly, seemingly unsure why Patchouli was telling her this. "So...how are you going to do your, um...rewiring?"

Patchouli fell silent for several minutes. She'd been thinking about this in the back of her mind ever since she'd first realised the problem. She’d not been sure that things would go this way, but she’d had a suspicion. Of course, there were likely plenty of places in Gensokyo that she could go to, but there was one place that she'd promised to go, and it was far from Gensokyo. "Meiling. I would like to accompany you to China. To the Wudang mountains."

Meiling looked at her like her heart had just skipped a beat, but soon some sense of elation seemed to capture her features. "H-Huh!? Lady Patchouli, are you serious!?" She shifted, spinning around onto her knees and getting right up in Patchouli's face. "You want to come to China with me!?"

Patchouli raised her hands to try and calm Meiling, but Meiling only seemed to get more excited. "I promised, Meiling. You told me that you'd like to return to that monastery, either in your mind or in reality. Now, we both have a reason to go there in reality. Your ki control needs to be relearned and I need to fix my body's ability to do magic. We can do both there. It’s a perfect time." Patchouli nodded seriously. "And I...would prefer to know that you are recovering alongside me." She'd had to measure the words as they left her mouth.

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They were the truth, but the words felt delicate and treacherous, like she had to make sure they came out correctly, and if they slipped too far one way or another, they could have a dramatic effect on the rest of Patchouli’s life.

Meiling's eyes practically sparkled in the dying sunlight as she grinned at Patchouli, like two pools of blue starlight. "Thank you, Lady Patchouli...I want to see you recover too. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you." She whispered, so quiet that Patchouli barely heard it. "What about Sekai? Do you think she could come? She wanted to, I remember…"

Patchouli thought. While she would never say she was against the idea, she wasn't sure how the newly born goddess would handle the outside world, or if she had the faith and hardiness to survive out there. It was likely that Sekai needed to remain in Gensokyo for a while, at least. Long enough for her to really settle into people's minds and become a part of this world. Long enough for her to find out exactly what she wanted to be. Fortunately, Sekai didn't explicitly have to do the journey. "Sekai has some level of control over multiple abilities that allow her some form of teleportation. Yukari Yakumo's Gaps and Kasen Ibaraki's Gates, at the very least. I believe she will need more time in Gensokyo before she could face an extended period of absence..." Meiling's face fell, so Patchouli continued. "...But short visits would be acceptable." Meiling’s face immediately brightened, letting Patchouli release a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Patchouli thought of Sekai and the many people she had yet to meet, and those that she had met who needed her positive presence. "And I believe that Sekai still has plenty to do here, and plenty of people to meet. Dragging her away with only us for company wouldn't be helpful."

Meiling giggled lightly. "True...It'd be like when she was still stuck in the HSE again with just us to talk to. I want her to make lots of friends here." It was sweet, Patchouli thought. Meiling's motives were always pure. There were never any hidden games there. She'd never hesitated to say that they would save Sekai. Patchouli knew, had learnt by now, that there would never be an instance where she couldn't trust Meiling. "Lady Patchouli...? You're, um, staring at me."

Patchouli blinked, shaking her head. "No, Meiling, you're right. Sekai should make friends. Spending all her time with us wouldn't do her any good. Not to mention that I will not have her avoiding Anon Hakurei any longer." Had she been staring? No matter; She could ruminate on that later. "If we are to go to China, we will need to make some plans. And first, we will have to inform Remi." As if on queue, Patchouli heard the echoing boom of a loud explosion somewhere in the direction of the mansion. Hana Hakurei and Remi's battle, no doubt. The Hakurei Shrine Maiden had looked like she had some more frustrations to work off.

It was time to get up, but Patchouli found that she was struggling to stand. "Ah, er...Let me help you up, Lady Patchouli..." Meiling mumbled, gently slipping her arm around Patchouli's back and taking her hand delicately without hesitation. Carefully, as if Patchouli was made of glass, she helped the magician to her feet. Patchouli didn't really realise it until she was standing, but she'd accepted Meiling's help without a second thought.

"Thank you." The magician murmured to the gatekeeper. "Let us not waste any more time. Come, Meiling." Patchouli turned, resuming her usual floating just above the ground as she made for the mansion again.

Meiling joined her, side-by-side.

At one point, their hands brushed together.

At another point, Patchouli's hand slipped into Meiling's.

And neither let go.

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Patchouli wheezed, watching her life flash before her eyes. Every movement took herculean effort. Her vision had nearly faded entirely. She wasn't sure how she hadn't given out entirely. Sweat drenched her and weakness threatened to claim her. How could she keep going?

"Come on, Lady Patchouli! We're nearly there!" Her voice. Her cheerful, unfaltering tones reverberated through Patchouli's body and seemed to spur on that little bit of extra energy she needed to keep her head straight. Ahead of her, as the path continued to trail upwards, the white of the snow nearly blinding her, Hong Meiling joyously ran forward, running on stores of energy that Patchouli couldn't even conceive of. "It's just as I remembered it!" She cried, spinning around. Her bright blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight like beautiful pools of water. "Here, Lady Patchouli. Let me help you." She reached out an ungloved hand - The cold apparently didn't bother her much - toward Patchouli, whose jaw worked but with no sound coming out.

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Finally, Patchouli reached out and let Meiling take her hand, using her as support. "Just - Just tell me-" A fit of coughing broke her sentence in two. "J-Just tell me when we're there." Patchouli forced the words from her abused lungs. If flying had been an option available to her out here, none of this would be happening, but apparently that was out of the question out here, and even if it had been, she wasn’t sure her magic was currently up to the task.

Patchouli gripped Meiling's hand tighter, determined to hold on as the Chinese youkai led her into the higher reaches of the mountain.
________________________________________

In the end, it hadn't taken very much to convince Remi to let them go.

"Huh? Patchy, I'm kind of..." Patchouli had bluntly floated into the final throes of Hana's duel against Remi. At that point, both combatants showed some signs of wear and tear, and Hana was straddling the vampire’s torso, busy throttling the life out of Remi whilst shouting obscenities at her, but Remi didn't seem particularly bothered by it. "Can we do this later?" The vampire croaked at Patchouli with what little breath Hana was letting her have.

“Hm. Fine. Take your time.” Patchouli had muttered, retreating back to the edge of the roof where Meiling waited.

"H-Hana..." Anon had mumbled, watching from the edge of the roof, looking like he was desperate to run in and pull Hana away. Somehow, Patchouli suspected that Hana wouldn’t take kindly to that.

At his side had been Sekai, who'd tentatively reached up and taken his hand, squeezing it gently. It had taken him a second, but the man had finally returned a weak smile of his own. That, Patchouli thought, was progress. On Anon’s other side, arms crossed and a smirk on her face, stood Marisa. She looked particularly proud of how far Hana had come, but also a little jealous that she didn’t have anyone to fight.

Patchouli thought about tossing a fireball at her head just for old time’s sake, but decided that such an act would be childish, and a bad example for Sekai.

Later, once the fighting had come to a stop, Hana had been reigned in, and Remi had retired to her room, she'd met with Patchouli and Meiling again. "So, Patchouli Knowledge, what can I do for you?" Remi cheerfully asked, ignoring the fact that her left hand had been vaporised and one of her wings was cut in half. She'd heal from that fast. " Would you like to spend all my money again? Or do you have another esoteric ritual designed to break the very foundations of magic to shreds? And will it result in another delightful little girl like Sekai? Even if I wish she’d call me ‘big sis’ instead of ‘auntie.’"

"Nothing like that, Remi." Patchouli replied, crossing her legs and leaning back in her seat. "Though it concerns...the aftereffects of Sekai's birth, I should say." Quickly, Patchouli led Remi through the list of realisations she and Meiling had come to about their abilities. "As a result of everything, we are both in need of..." She hesitated, unsure what the right word would be. “...Rehabilitation.”

Remi immediately raised her hand. "Say no more. I've always told you, Patchy, that I do worry for your health. All that time before your memories returned, and all those secrets and half-truths you fed me in the run-up to the Solstice. I knew there could be no way it was healthy." Remi moved as if she wanted to interlock her fingers, only to remember that one of her hands was presently a stump. "And now you tell me that you might've caused some permanent damage to yourself if you don't drop everything right now and get to healing yourself? That if you don’t hurry off as soon as you possibly can, you might not live all that much longer? What do you expect of me, Patchouli?"

Patchouli let a slight smile cross her face. "A tantrum, perhaps."

Remi giggled, but she sobered quickly. "I'll show you a real tantrum if you don't take all the time you need for your recovery. I wouldn't know what to do with myself without you, Patchy. You’re as essential to my life as air. I want you around for a long, long time." Patchouli's smile grew. Remi had always been very straight with her about how much she valued the magician, even if she often did so in the overly romantic, dramatic tones that were part and parcel of every good vampire’s being.

"Meiling, too." Remi's gaze switched to the martial artist, who'd been sitting quietly in the chair beside Patchouli. Now, she jumped as if she'd been caught napping. "I knew that fate had you settle at our doorstep for a reason. You’re someone I could hardly do without, too. To create new life...No one could be more deserving of a rest than you two. And all the effort in the world would’ve gone to waste if you both hadn't held on as long as you did. So, now..." Remi looked between the two of them, her gaze hardening.

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"Leave. Both of you. Go to where you need to be and do whatever you need to do to recover. I want you both to only come back here when you've both returned to form." Patchouli didn't often see this Remi. The one who had witnessed five hundred years of life and had taken all that experience with her. But then another gentle smile broke through the seriousness. "But...wherever you go, know that you will always have a place in this mansion. Always and forever. Both of you, and of course, the child that the two of you have brought into this world."

"Th-Thank you, Milady..." Meiling murmured, sounding slightly star struck. "And thank you for accepting Sekai."

Remi grinned, showing off her fangs. "As if I could deny someone who values the ability to manipulate fate as much as I do. Besides, I have plenty to teach her." That sounded like a recipe for disaster, or at least the first major incident to grace this new post-Solstice Gensokyo. Hana Hakurei would certainly have her hands full.

“Thank you, Remi.” Patchouli murmured. “Whatever would I do without you?”

“Oh, collapse into a little ball and cry your eyes out, I imagine.” Remi replied with a smirk. “I choose my real friends very carefully. You’re both indispensable to me. So, for your own safety, I must now send you away.”

And so, the meeting had adjourned, and Meiling had drawn Patchouli into a few sessions of planning out their journey. As they'd worked, Gensokyo had continued to rediscover itself following the Solstice. With Youkai Mountain's involvement in the fighting, the tengu found themselves in a position they'd never expected to be in. Suddenly they found that they needed to ask other residents of Gensokyo for help in keeping their home from falling apart under the effects of the Waterfall of the Nine Heavens...restructuring. And despite how historically isolationist they had been, despite how uppity and snooty, in the aftermath of the Solstice, their neighbours came to their aid. Yamanba from the Ancient Sanctuary broke centuries of isolationism to help the tengu keep their homes from collapsing. Kappa and yamawaro technology helped reconstruction efforts bear fruit. Word had even filtered down that the kitsune population, so rarely heard from, had leant a hand. No doubt they all had something they wanted in return, but even so…

Historic events were happening, but they were not Patchouli's concern. All that was left, after some time spent packing up everything she would need in a magically enhanced bag, was the journey.

And all too soon, Patchouli and Meiling found themselves at the gate of the mansion, packed up and ready to go. Patchouli felt overdressed, and even though she'd pulled out every updated map that she had of the outside world to study their route across the mountains, she wondered if this was a mistake - If the library wouldn't be safer for her. But then she'd look to her side - She'd look at Meiling, dressed in an outfit vaguely reminiscent of the one she'd worn in her dream and clearly old and well-cared for, and she remembered that she wasn't doing this just for her.

No, this was her promise. Patchouli would do this because it would make Meiling happy.

Something crashed into her legs. Someone, it seemed, was not so happy. "No~!" A childish voice wailed. "Don't go, Mothers!" Sekai's childish tendencies had truly broken through as the departure date had approached, and now that she was out of options, she’d chosen the only thing she had left to keep Patchouli and Meiling from going. "I don't wanna see you go!"

"Sekai..." Meiling murmured, crouching down to speak at eye level with the child clinging to Patchouli's leg. "I really, really wish you could come with us." She whispered, gently pulling Patchouli free from Sekai so that she could pull her into a hug, lifting her from the ground and cradling her in her strong arms. "But we don't know how long we'll be gone, and it'd be dangerous for you out there."

"B-But - I could find a way! I can just - I can-" Sekai's hands grasped and caught hold of Meiling's braids, squeezing tightly. "I don't want to be left alone..." She mumbled quietly, her body sagging.

Patchouli looked down at Sekai for a moment, and then she lifted her finger. Carefully, she stepped over to Meiling, stooping slightly to put herself eye-to-eye with Sekai. "Chin up." She told her daughter sharply. "Keep your composure." Sekai fought the words as hard as she could, trying to keep crying and gibbering. But still, she calmed after a few moments. "As you well know, your birth has necessitated a period of recovery for both Meiling and myself." She leaned in slightly. "I know your ability to control Gaps is getting stronger, and I am certain that you'll be able to join us for short periods of time. But not right now." At that, Sekai brightened considerably. "And besides that, you have plenty of friends to make here in Gensokyo. Alone? You’ll never be alone unless you want to be."

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Echoing the conversation she'd already had with Meiling, Patchouli continued. "We may be your mothers, but you shouldn't spend all your time with us."

"B-But I want to-"

"Hush." Patchouli placed a finger over Sekai's lips. "Listen to me, Sekai. I want to see you in China. I will always want to see you.” Patchouli had long since decided that aloofness was no way to talk to someone she loved. The truth was far more beautiful. “Sekai, everything that I have done since I was trapped in the HSE, I have done for you. You are, and always will be, the greatest thing I have ever been a part of. I love you."

If Sekai had thought they were abandoning her, she couldn't think it any longer. Especially when Meiling nodded and repeated Patchouli's words, cementing the truth in her heart. Patchouli wouldn't have Sekai do anything without knowing that Patchouli and Meiling stood behind her. That she was loved. "M-Mothers..." Sekai mumbled, tears welling in the corners of her eyes again.

Some slight movement make Patchouli look up. There stood Anon, and next to him, arms crossed and looking particularly Reimu-like today, stood Hana Hakurei.

Cuts were littering the Shrine Maiden's arms, and there was a nasty bruise on her cheek. New injuries. The youkai had stirred again in the time since the Solstice, emboldened, perhaps, by Reimu’s death. Patchouli had heard the arguments between Anon and his daughter in the mansion - Hana had thrown herself into the fighting with wild abandon, beating back the youkai with strength that the youkai could hardly stand against. She was determined, it seemed, to ensure that the peace Reimu had created would be maintained. It was straining her relationship with her father terribly, and Patchouli wondered if they were nearing their breaking points. They'd seemed tentatively happy just after the Solstice, too. Now they stood slightly apart, only a short distance physically but what seemed like galaxies apart emotionally.

Anon hadn't attended Reimu's funeral. Patchouli wondered if her words were to blame for that. He was leaving too, soon enough. He'd be moving into Yuuka Kazami's domain, where he felt safe. Hana wasn't coming with him. Perhaps, Patchouli thought grimly, that meant that Yukari had gotten the last laugh, for even in death she'd broken the family potentially beyond repair.

Turning her attention from the broken family toward Sekai, she crouched down. "You aren't being left alone, Sekai. You have plenty of family in Gensokyo." She nodded in Anon's direction. "And they deserve to spend time with you as well." And Patchouli gently caressed Sekai's face before standing to her full height.. The girl looked torn between running to Patchouli again and heeding her words.

"Go on, Sekai." Meiling whispered encouragingly. "You'll see us again soon." With that, Sekai bravely nodded and turned, running for Anon, who knelt down and greeted her with open arms, as accepting as he could ever be. Though he was still a long, long way from healthy, he seemed to be doing his best. He stood, Sekai in his arms. Hana seemed torn, but finally swallowed and stepped around to offer the child her hand with a tentative smile. Any strain toward her father, she didn't show it.

Behind her, Patchouli spotted shades of green. Aunn Komano, faithful komainu of the Hakurei Shrine, stuck to her side tightly. With the shrine empty now that the funeral had been finished, it seemed that Hana had become Aunn's rock. She'd been sticking to the girl as often as she could. Well, Patchouli thought, at least that gave both of them someone to lean on.

"Well, well, well..." Patchouli turned her attention back toward the gate. Sitting in a chair and resting her legs, her hands resting on her very heavily pregnant belly, Marisa Kirisame smirked up at Patchouli. "Never thought I'd see the day where you're the one setting out on a big journey whilst I'm the one stuck sitting here." The ritual to return Marisa's children to her body had gone perfectly fine, though much like overusing a muscle that had already been strained, the whole ordeal had only exacerbated Patchouli's current magical strain, making this whole China journey even more necessary. "How times change!" Marisa exclaimed, holding back a laugh.

"Indeed." Patchouli replied, crossing her arms and looking down at the witch. "Not a scenario I expected, to be certain."

"Well, don't get too used to it. It's only temporary!" Marisa pointed a finger at Patchouli dangerously. "I'll be back in top shape before you know it!"

"You certainly seem to believe that." Patchouli replied with a half-smile. "Do kindly keep an eye on Sekai. She should get to know all the people who helped bring her into this world."

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"Yeah, no problem. She's a good kid...Never would've thought you'd be a mother, either. You even beat me to it! Unbelievable..." Marisa shook her head tiredly. "At least Hana's happy to help me out when she’s not off fighting the youkai who’re getting bigheaded now that Reimu’s gone. Having a student to give all my menial tasks to sure is great!"

"I have an excellent assistant to help me with that." Patchouli did smile slightly then. Koakuma was all she'd ever need. "That said, my assistant is still in recovery, so I’m afraid that I’ll have to trouble you to keep an eye on the library for me too.”

Marisa shrugged with her ever-present grin. “Don’t be afraid, then.” She cheekily replied. “Sure, I’ll check in on the place. I know these Kurodani lot - They’ll get real ornery if you don’t give them a party every now and then.”

Patchouli suppressed a chuckle. She’d forgotten to factor the alcohol into the library’s budget, but Marisa had her covered. “Ah - Before I go, I do have something for you." She raised her arm, manipulating the storage signal that had once stored Sekai's book.

And out popped...Sekai's book.

Well, not exactly. In the run-up to the journey, Patchouli had approached Sekai and requested her help in fashioning a gift. "You helped me examine the book that helped me bring Sekai to life, and you’ve done nothing to betray my trust in you since you returned my books. Whilst this is a replica, Sekai has assured me that it should prove just as useful." She levitated the book, floating it into Marisa's almost trembling hands. Of course, it couldn't be the book the way Sekai had given it to Patchouli and Meiling. That was far too much power. Instead, it had a small percentage of the power, and Sekai had assured Patchouli that she'd filled it with as many interesting magic-related things as she knew. Whether or not Patchouli trusted that to actually be a significant amount of knowledge was something she was keeping quiet about. Marisa could figure that out in her own time. "Consider it a congratulatory gift. For surviving the Solstice and for getting through your pregnancy. I suspect I could never have done the same.”

Marisa's reaction was equal parts shock and joy according to Patchouli's eyes. For decades, Marisa's joy had come from stealing from the library. Patchouli found that the current state of affairs was far more agreeable to her. "P-Patchouli, I don't know what to say..." She looked up, holding the book tightly to her body. "Thank you. Seriously. I won’t forget this. Goodbye and good luck, Patchouli. Take care of yourself. There’s too few magicians left here as it is." Marisa smiled up at Patchouli, her gaze sincere.

Meanwhile, Meiling was saying her farewells too. As Patchouli looked over, she found the gatekeeper talking to Remi, who stood underneath the umbrella that Sakuya held with her newly healed arm. "I’ll see if there’s any interesting recipes out there for Miss Sakuya. A-And, um, we'll have to look for more manga while we're out..." Meiling's voice and actions were animated, as were Remi's. This was something that the two of them shared. After a moment, Remi seemed to feel Patchouli's gaze upon her, and she looked over before beckoning Patchouli.

Patchouli turned back to Marisa, giving her an elaborate bow. “Goodbye, Marisa Kirisame. I leave the library in your hands.” She headed over to Remi, who had been waiting patiently. "Well, Remi, I suppose this is goodbye for now." Patchouli told the vampire, who raised her arms.

"I suppose so." Remi sounded remarkably composed. "But I know it's not goodbye for good. I'll see you again, Patchouli. And I hope I'll continue seeing you for a very long time. Do keep me in mind whilst you're out there, hmm? Don't let that loud outside world distract you." Remi reached up, gently taking hold of Patchouli's hand. "But by the same token..." Her wings spread and beat powerfully, bringing the vampire slightly away from the ground and up until she was eye-to-eye with Patchouli. "I’ll only get this chance to say this, so listen carefully. Don't be afraid to act on your emotions, Patchouli Knowledge. Especially if it would make you happy. Even our lives could never be long enough for regrets. One can only survive if they do not have the courage to live."

"I'll keep that in mind." Patchouli replied with a slight smile. "And I shall endeavour to be back as soon as I can."

"Ah-ah." Remi wagged a finger in her face. "Under no circumstances shall you be back - until - you are well. No cutting corners, Patchy. I'm sure Sekai will keep me company until then. By the time I’m finished with her, you’ll hardly recognise her." Patchouli looked over and found that Sekai had migrated to sitting on Anon's shoulders and talking animatedly to Hana, who had to take to the air slightly to remain level with her.

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"Now, I’ve something for you.” Patchouli raised an eyebrow. “Even if I’m still miffed about you offering the Kurodani family all my money, I couldn’t let this go. Sakuya?” Remi looked back to her maid, who nodded.

“I’ve received the goods this morning, milady. All wrapped and sealed.” Sakuya didn’t move, but suddenly Remi was holding something in her closed hands, keeping Patchouli from seeing it. “Goodbye, Lady Patchouli.” Sakuya continued, “Safe travels. We will keep your rooms safe.” Patchouli smiled shortly and nodded with satisfaction. The perfect maid, forever and always.

“Ah, Patchouli Knowledge. I should’ve known that your mental strength would overcome your sentimentality.” Remi told her brightly. She reached out and took Patchouli’s hand, placing something somewhat heavy in it whilst covering it with her own hand. “But what I gave you, all those years ago…It was a symbol. It’s what you mean to me. It’s something that I want you to always have. So if you have to sacrifice it in an esoteric ceremony to bring a wonderful child into the world, then I will understand…but I will replace it.”

And Remi pulled her hand back, revealing a crescent moon cast in metal. And this time, it was Patchouli’s turn to be shocked. “Remi…” She murmured, staring down at the ornament. She’d sacrificed the original for Sekai’s ritual, and she’d do it again in a split-second if she had to. But of course Remi wouldn’t want her to forget what the crescent moon had represented. She enclosed her hand around the ornament, looking back up at the vampire. “Thank you, Remi. I will cherish this one as I did the original.” She murmured.

“Ah, Lady Patchouli, let me…” Patchouli looked over, finding Meiling coming closer. She gently opened up Patchouli’s hand and pulled the crescent moon from it. A little fiddling later, and she’d attached the thing to her hair like a hairpin. “There. It looks wonderful.” Meiling murmured with a bright smile as she stepped back to allow Remi room.

“So it does.” Remi said with a smile. “As I knew it would. Now, Patchouli, if we are to say goodbye, we must leave nothing unsaid." Of course, Remi was just too aristocratic for regular hugs to suffice. Instead, she took hold of Patchouli’s hand, bringing her other hand around the nape of her neck as she pressed her forehead against Patchouli’s. Her wings enclosed around them. "I shall miss you dearly, Patchy. Take care of Meiling, of course, but above all else, take care of yourself. I expect nothing less from you." Remi pulled back slightly and, ever so gently, kissed Patchouli on the cheek. "All my love, Patchouli Knowledge. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Remilia Scarlet." Patchouli murmured in return. "Until we meet again." And with that, Remi pulled back, her wings unfurling behind her again. They wouldn't need to speak until they saw each other again. Additional goodbyes would only dilute the message that had passed between them. So, Patchouli stepped back, straightening her clothing again and resisting the urge to mess with her new hair ornament.

Behind Remi, at the entrance to the mansion, she spotted Yamame watching the proceedings. Next to her, reaching up to hold her hand, Chen watched on. Patchouli stared at the bakeneko’s blank face, then subtly twitched her fingers. Her eyes distorted and refocused, and she kept her face still as she observed the inky blackness of the shadow that hovered over Chen’s emotions. The Gap. But unfortunately, Patchouli couldn’t get a clearer read on her. Did Yakumo survive within her? It was impossible to say. What was clear was that Chen would need just as much love and support as Anon did to make it through the mourning period, and even then, who knew what the long-term effects could be? Would she be consumed, ever so slowly overwritten by Yakumo’s vile essence?

Patchouli nodded toward the pair, and the spider matriarch nodded back with a polite wave. Patchouli could trust in the Kurodani family to finish the library to her specifications whilst she was gone, much as she could trust them to accept Sekai and spend time with her. And if anyone could break through the darkness gripping Chen's heart, it was the bright light in the darkness that was Yamame Kurodani.

And before she knew it, Meiling had finished her goodbyes too. Suddenly, it was time to go. Time to leave their home for some time. Together, Patchouli and Meiling began to walk away. "I spoke to her. She was…hard to track down, but I found her eventually." Meiling told Patchouli quietly as they turned away from the mansion. "She told me that she can send us to the mountains, but no further. And...it'll be a one-way trip."

"We knew that, Meiling. Don't lose your nerve now." Patchouli gritted her teeth and forced out a foggy breath. It didn’t seem a good sign that she was starting this journey at less than full strength. She forced herself to take a step forward. And then another. And another.

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And with enough steps, with Meiling beside her, the pair were soon at the Misty Lake. They were not alone.

Bandages trailed, dancing in the breeze from her shoulder, highlighting the emptiness where her bandaged arm had once been. Her tabard flapped lightly in the breeze. The hermit's pink hair swayed lazily as she idly twisted the blade that had become a focal point for the fighting in the Solstice using her one remaining hand. Once, there had been a small tuft of hair in the top of her head that had resolutely refused to settle down, but now her hair was all messy and unbrushed, so it was hard to notice.

Now the sole remaining youkai sage, Ibaraki Kasen looked a shadow of herself. Her eyes were sunken and empty of light. Her hair had grown long under her merge with the arm of Ibaraki-douji, and her two horns occupied the space where her hair buns had once been. The horns themselves looked rough and terribly sharp, which probably didn’t make Kasen feel better. Her emotions, Patchouli could see, failed to coalesce into much of anything. The woman had once been a nagger, a moralist busybody that wanted people to do what was good and right. Yukari Yakumo's actions had cut a swathe across not just Gensokyo's geography, but its people, too.

Patchouli didn't know Kasen's history, but she did know enough. She knew that Yakumo had conducted a thorough, vile operation designed to break every facet of Ibaraki Kasen down into nothing, until she was so beaten and broken that she was more akin to Yakumo’s toy than a person. Whether or not the hermit would be able to recover, or if she would live up to her title and never be seen again was up to her. What was certain, however, was that she hadn’t come out of the fighting whole.

"I hear you've agreed to be our transport." Patchouli stated, causing Kasen to raise her head and turn to look at them. There was nothing in her face. No happiness. No sadness. Not anymore. Just a shell left behind as everything she cared about had been torn apart.

"Indeed." Kasen murmured. Even her voice seemed to get lost in the wind, weak and empty. "Your companion asked. I can send you to where you want to go. Away from Gensokyo. After that...you'll be on your own." The loose bandages trailing in the wind from her right shoulder seemed to twitch slightly, as if trying to bring themselves together, but they failed to do much more than that, curling around Kasen instead, like some sort of vague wing. For a split second, some vestige of the old hermit seemed to emerge, but it disappeared just as quickly. "This is a one-way trip. I hope you know what you're doing." Patchouli knew that Kasen had once been a moral busybody - someone who would lecture anyone and everyone on their actions. That Kasen might’ve tried to impress upon Patchouli and Meiling their importance to Gensokyo’s rebuilding. Well, she didn't seem to have much desire to do that anymore. Perhaps her own actions had broken her. The horns she saw in the mirror would always be a reminder of what she was capable of. Perhaps now, she couldn't see how someone like her could have any business lecturing anybody. Or perhaps she’d come to regard Gensokyo with contempt, and saw anyone attempting to leave it as doing the right thing.

"We'll manage." Meiling told her. "As long as you set us down in the Wudang mountains, I'll be able to navigate. We just need some help to get there."

Kasen didn't reply. She simply nodded and raised her remaining hand, holding the blade. Patchouli caught something curious, then. Kasen's ear pricked up, in the way one's ear often does when they catch someone talking, for example. No one had spoken, but Kasen's body language shifted slightly, as if she was turning to someone who was speaking. It lasted only a split second and was so subtle that it left Patchouli unsure that she'd seen it at all. Still, no matter. Ibaraki Kasen's battles were her own. The hermit slashed downward with the sword, splitting reality and opening a tear in the world. Not a Gap like Yakumo's, but a Gate. "The Wudang Mountains." She said.

Kasen's Gates didn't have the same unsettling touches like the bows of Yakumo's Gaps. Patchouli had expected some sort of hermit-related theming, perhaps. But if Kasen had ever thought of that before, she certainly wasn't thinking of it anymore. The hermit seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, and despite her oni strength, it looked like, sooner or later, it would kill her. When Patchouli returned from China, sometime in the future, there seemed a very high chance that the hermit would be dead. And while Patchouli had never known or cared all that much about Kasen's activities, she was the last sage standing. If she went, Gensokyo's still-fragile stability would go with her. That was no good for Sekai.

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Of course, there was little that Patchouli could do for her, and after all she'd gone through, it was unlikely that she'd ever accept any help.

"Oh!" Meiling exclaimed, peering through the Gate. "I recognise that path! Lady Patchouli, that's it!" She looked back at Patchouli, her eyes dazzlingly bright and her smile wider than ever. Through the Gate, Patchouli could see snow. Snow, ice, and a trail that had been beaten down over four thousand years of history. In the distance, stretching across the sky and disappearing into the clouds, Patchouli could see mountains. Now, with the reality laid out right in front of her, Patchouli almost felt a sliver of doubts.

But then she looked back at Meiling, who was peering into the Gate with uncontained excitement and giving off joyful emotions in waves, and the doubts were crushed. No, Patchouli would not run away. She would go through with this as promised.

Of course she would be okay. After all, she had Meiling with her.

"Meiling." Patchouli murmured. "Let's go." Meiling looked back at her, her smile stuck to her face as she nodded excitedly. The gatekeeper turned back, taking a deep, anticipation-filled breath, and then she passed through the gate, disappearing into China.

Patchouli was right behind her, but for just a moment, she paused before taking that final step. Damn her new sensibilities. She couldn’t help herself. "I spoke to Hana Hakurei." She murmured to Kasen, whose empty eyes had been listlessly peering off into the frozen Misty Lake.

"...I see." Kasen murmured, not looking back at her. Guilt and self-hatred bloomed in sickly yellows and greens in her emotions. She blamed herself, of course. Patchouli expected that. But more than that, the hermit seemed to think that what she’d done was so bad that no one could ever forgive her.

Patchouli tilted her head, considering her words. She only had one shot at this. "Even now, Hana is still a child, in need of love, support, and guidance. She spoke to me of your guidance, before everything. Now, she throws herself into fighting with reckless abandon, and she will continue to do so until she makes a fatal mistake. If you wish not to live for yourself, then perhaps you should consider living for her."

But Kasen would not be so easily swayed. After all she’d done, how could anyone want to see her? "She's better off without me. They all are." The hermit whispered, as if she was only expending the absolute bare minimum amount of energy needed to say the words. Even so, there was pain in every syllable. Tiredness plagued Kasen’s mind and body. "I only cause her pain when I'm around." Finally, the ice-cold blue of sadness cracked through the haze of Kasen's emotions. The loose bandages at her side seized up again as if trying to come back together, only to fall limp again.

Patchouli had to leave. Stamping her feet and trying to convince Kasen otherwise would be pointless. Instead, she left her with her parting words. "One of the cruellest things a person can do to another is make them feel as if they are unloved." She fixed Kasen with her gaze until the oni's empty eyes met hers. "And I believe you still love Hana Hakurei enough to spare her from that notion."

And with that, Patchouli Knowledge stepped into the Gate and left Gensokyo behind.

________________________________________

At last, the brutal journey was over. Kasen had dropped Meiling and Patchouli off a small distance up the mountain, but there had still been a long way to go. Patchouli's strength hadn't lasted for the entire journey, of course. Even if she’d been at full strength, a mountain was more than she had in her. As the cold bit into her and her lungs burned more and more, she'd finally reached a point of no return.

But, as always, Hong Meiling was there to save her.

Thus, Meiling had pulled Patchouli onto her back and carried not only her, but all of the luggage they'd brought with them too. In her exhausted unconsciousness, Patchouli had found herself in darkness, sitting at her desk. And across from her, she’d seen herself, battered and bruised. It hadn’t taken long to figure out who she was looking at. Of course, even though their memories had merged together, her Remnant self was tenacious.

There was no need for words. Both of them knew what the other was thinking, of course. Her Remnant self watched her for a few moments, and she slowly smiled. Victory. A promise fulfilled. Patchouli smiled back, and then she extended a hand across the table. Her Remnant self took her hand, meeting her eyes again.

They’d done it. They’d saved her.

The scene faded, and Patchouli was only somewhat aware of the moment when Meiling had joyously exclaimed that she could see the monastery. It drew her out of her dreams and back to reality, but it was only as she was gently lowered onto a soft bed that she properly came to. Somewhere, she could hear running water and distant shouts.