/jp/ - Otaku Culture

The night was long for you as you lay in bed awake, it was a miscalculation on your part as normally you make sure to fill the day enough with things to do to let you fall asleep easily come nightfall. Today had hardly been different in the volume of activity but as you lay on your futon in the room you and Marisa were sharing sleep didn't come too you despite your best efforts. The room was deep and dark by this time, and the only sound you could hear was your own heart and the soft sounds of Marisa's breathing as all light was avoiding your eyes making sure you couldn't even make out your own hand in front of your face much less the whimsical magician laying not more then 15 feet away form you. You tossed and turned unable to coax the familiar feeling of sinking from the back of your brain and soon enough the part you dreaded started as your mind entered into the cycle of despair, self loathing, and addictive pity all too common to your mental state over the past few months.
The thoughts were ceaseless and unrelenting as they assaulted your mind and filled you with that pleasant and tempting sadness which would take your whole mind over as you fell into that logically illogical pattern of self destructive thoughts. You stewed considering yourself, your situation, the future and most importantly you considered the futility of it all, after all wouldn't Reimu surely relapse once unchecked? You knew you couldn't keep vigil over her forever as much as the two kindhearted girls that kept watch over you couldn't and even if you stuck with it you were sure that when you slipped once more it would start again, the certainty of your tedious and grim future played itself out on a cycle till you simply couldn't take the malicious darkness anymore and got up. You weren't exactly quiet but even in your self defeating mental state you just couldn't justify taking the chance of waking the friend that has given you so much kindness over the years and support over the last six months or so just because of your own problems.
You opened the sliding door and like a seal being opened cold air poured in and splashed you in the face, you closed the door of that hakkero warmed room quickly and softly behind you. The juban you wore was thin and did little to protect you from the chill of the air around you and without anything on your feet the wood sapped the heat from you quickly but it didn't matter, seeing the moonlight filter in through the window slits on the wall was a welcome reprieve from the darkness that seemed to drip into your own mind. As if by instinct you found yourself in the familiar living room smelling faintly of tatami and the incense that was lit earlier, you made your way to the kitchen as if guided by some instinct and found that familiar sharp kitchen knife you were once so proud of. You opened the sliding doors to the veranda and despite there being no real temperature difference in the unheated room and outside the gentle breeze and mere presence of fallen snow seemed to do its part in sapping your heat ever more effectively then the cold wood did alone.
You took your seat on the porch cross legged and placed the knife on your lap, you don't know if you were going to do it again but you simply had to have it's weight on your lap. The clouds were parted and the moon was a little more then a waning crescent tonight but to your attuned eyes it gave enough light to reflect off the thick layer of snow that covered the yard and gave your eyes a feast. Those thoughts of self hatred and the consequences of your own death still swirled around your head despite the beauty of nature and the chill made you feel uncharacteristically poetic as it reminded of how you felt as you bled out in that small clearing some time back. A familiar phantom pain on the underside of your forearm let you vividly remember the sharp burning pain you felt that day and the same curious tinge of relief played on your forebrain as you watched the moonlight glint off the knife seated still on your lap.
You stared at that knife like a lover and placed your hand on it unsure where you were going with this but felt yourself grip the knife as this fell mood kept you its prisoner. The chill bit into you as the wind picked up a bit and despite your body's desires you couldn't help but roll up your sleeve as you were edging closer and closer to crossing that mental line you raced over before and you knew it, part of you didn't want to make those girls that so cared for you feel pain at your behest but the thought of going through all this over again and again made you realize that the easiest way out both for you and everyone was staring you in the face.
Just as you crossed that final mental line you heard a creaking behind you that made your focused mind jump a bit as you heard the familiar voice of the black and white magician call out from behind you, "its a little cold to be stargazing isn't it daze?".