/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>46771483
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“Why do you have a pregnant rat in the ready…?” I ask, staring as magic chains lock the small thing to the table and begin feeding the magical sigils, no squeak wafting the air. Soothing magic, probably.

Patchouli gave me a weird look, indecipherable but for ‘surprised’. “Why wouldn't I have it? I prepare myself for every circumstance, and keeping breeding grounds for test subjects regarding alchemical and biological processes is something every magician studying the nuance of the magical world regarding the body—humane or not—should at the very least take into account.” It's sobering that no counterargument comes to mind, though I find myself wondering if this relates to her many illnesses. Patchy hums, gesturing with her hand towards the table. “Besides, how were you expecting to test the integrity of this ritual?” I scratch my nape, and she turns her eyes away, likely deeming it an unnecessary use of brainpower. An actual living being will probably fare better than the mycelium I was considering using… “No magic works immediately after it leaves the pages of books and ideas, Marisa Kirisame; you should know that better than anyone else.” Her voice carries the intonation of a teacher and, for a moment, I wonder if that's exactly what's happening here…

Well, a master that stops learning is nothing but an amateur, so I nod and stare back at the rat, all but one sigil brimming with magic—the one right in front of us. “Yeah, guess ya are right…” With her satisfied nod of approval, I sit down—finally, phew~—and begin to pour magic over the unlit sigil, as taught to me years ago by a strange and awfully dressed ‘vengeful’ spirit. Patchouli stares sharply at the process with an almost nostalgic expression—she will be the one executing the ritual on me if everything goes according to plan.

The destroyed, though well-kept Voilé fades, as slowly does Patchy's presence, all the reading of books still floating around me returning to my mind as clear as day. The main sigil helps with the manipulation and plucking of souls—must be careful not to reverse it, otherwise it turns into a rune that kills souls—and the two larger sigils that nurse it help with visualizing not only the mother's body but her developing children's. Conduction of soul and body comes next, and Patchy's hand tenderly presses against my back. It was a surprise to know recently she's been learning control of Ki and can act as the sole conductor of the children's vital energy rather than using cold, hard magic to perform the procedure—a test of her 'germinating skills', she’d called it.

Many more steps are silent or happen in the shadows, sigils glowing more or less in accordance with their need for magical empowerment, and as transition occurs and lost souls start to flutter above the chained rat, the silent table almost sings. The hard part finally begins as those eight souls and bodies leave their mother prematurely, anxiety booming inside. I can feel Patchy tensing as she uses her body to guide the children towards a small jar containing this shining, bluish effervescent liquid—a mixture of water and magic, serving as a small womb for the children.

If something were to fail, it'd fail now, during the most delicate and uncharted part of this whole process…

… But nothing happened. The eight souls and bodies were effectively and totally transplanted inside the jar, eight different—all faintly radiating—droplets of life swimming in the captivating, glowing bliss of ignorance. I opened my eyes and looked straight at Patchy, knowing before our eyes even met her reaction: Patchouli Knowledge was flabbergasted. “It just… worked.” She mumbled in a daze. Smugness creeped into my face and instantly vanished when she gave me a death glare.

—Then something seemed to click in her mind. That huge book fell onto her hands and, at random, she flipped through it… All that tension melted away from her face in a sigh, the book disappearing.

I stared, perplexed. What the fuck was that…?

“When your children come to this world, Marisa Kirisame, do me a favor.” She takes the bottle with the white souls and considers it. “Teach them that mistakes are a necessary evil in the magical world, despite being… 'yucky'… It'll save us both the seething rage.” A deadpan intonation, coupled with a dangerous gleam in her eyes, means all I can do is slowly nod. Satisfied, Patchy puts the jar of souls down and begins studying the integrity of the magical symbols.

I should’ve focused on that, but I got distracted by the mama rat, who shyly approached the jar and just… stared at it.

… My hand tenderly caresses my protuberant belly. “Say, Patchouli,” I call her. “How did it feel to use your Ki to manipulate those souls-da-ze?”

“An ant against a massive tree.” Immediate answer, huh… “All I did was carry one single leaf—with you, it should be a thin stem.” A shadow of a grin emerges on her face. “… It’d take a master ant to carry the entire tree, don’t you think~?”