/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>46690634
—
White, green, brown—things are peaceful; Sanae has met Kosuzu.

I sigh, relieved.

Things are going as expected.

As I lean against one of the three hundred stalls of various sizes and shapes that comprise this nameless festival, a hectic guilt stirs inside. Having Suzu on the front with me was a choice made at the last second, and am not proud of it. The initial plan called for just me; Mokou would watch for a messenger or envoy from Mr. Hieda, and I would meet them in person. However, Sanae was a far more appealing middleman, so I placed Suzu to my side as a familiar face Sanae could more easily approach. Using a friend as bait…

Suzu accepted the burden like the hero she is.

My hands open and close repeatedly, the black cloak and hood concealing my identity to the passersby—funny how a thing meant to make me stand out works just as well as cover—body itching all over with the silence from Mokou's side; is Suzu well, or is she scared? Does Sanae even want to talk?

If something bad happens…

The questions are a nice way to distract me from my actions.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?”

The world stops. My eyes enlarge as I slowly turn to face the looming shadow, a million questions racing through my head. Was it a failure? Cloaking myself amidst the chaos was for—

—A simple, casual Youkai girl stands there. She has… weird, cat ears—I think?—that complement well her light-blonde hair and paint a cute picture with her baby-like face and smile—if I did not know any better, I’d assume she’s younger than me—her silhouette finished by a faded purple yukata and winter ear protection…

Strangely, she seems eerily familiar. “Beautiful?” I parrot, heartrate quickly normalizing. Mr. Hieda would never trust a Youkai as a spy.

The girl leans her back against the wooden pylon beside me and observes as Youkai and humans pass by, engaged in conversation, commerce, or just enjoying themselves. “The cyclic nature of this world. One day all is well and boundaries are kept; then a crazy sage goes, erases every boundary she worked so hard to lift and, lo and behold, nothing makes sense anymore.” The girl shrugs, though I don't pay attention to that, eyes narrowing. “… But you know, it's this type of chaos and mess that breeds a new status quo. A new cycle that'll rise from the ashes of the previous one. With a new status quo comes new leaders, new minds. Opportunities, even~”

I feel something rising inside, a thought that concretizes when I look again at her big, fluffy ears and almost—almost—slap myself.

Those aren't fucking cat ears…

She snickers. “I wonder if a village administrator is needed…” The saint glances again towards the festival, and a younger Kurodani runs past us holding a giggling man's hand. They're both flushed, drunk already. “… It seems so, I’d say~” She giggles after whispering the last part, delighting herself in an inside joke.

I stare at the hermit, tense and uncomfortable, my heart rate indecisive, and blurt out, “How did you find me…?” A question that serves merely to buy time for me to think.

“I just followed the breadcrumbs of conversation, of course. That order of 'do not harm Sanae-san' came from somewhere~” Nodding, I try to speak, but she cuts me. “Don't feel threatened. I've only come to say hi and, well, talk a little, I guess.” She shrugs before pulling something from her yukata…

A bag of pocky.

“Wanna one?” Just as I am about to refute it, she interrupts once more. “That was rhetorical. In a political discussion, never refuse food. Say thank you.” Ignoring my confusion, she gives me one and puts one in her mouth. “Teaching and ruling are very distinct positions: While one may hold the strings of a revolution—your role during it is to elucidate the ignorant masses, after all—when push comes to shove and you need to consolidate power, you're not going to do so with some heartfelt speech, y'know? Guess what happened to the idiots who tried~” She slits a finger across her neck grimly.

I can only watch.

'Hermit trying to attain immortality', yeah…

… I look down at the pocky, then back at the saint.

“Thank you.” I eat the pocky. Tasty.

I wish my kids may eat their fill of this someday…

“That's what you want from my revolution—more power?” I ask, heart calmer as I chew down the pocky.

“Don't we all want more of something? Power is just the aftermath of a very careful set of actions and reactions—to what rhythm you build this song, that's what matters; it determines if your song will burn and fade away…” She gives me a side glance. “… Or if it'll live forever.” Finishing her pocky, she picks another one. “As it stands, you—” she points forward, to nothing in particular. I see it as she pointing at the entirety of my revolution. “—are going to fade away; a footnote of story that holds as much significance as that pocky I just ate… But with some help from me, Keine Kamishirasawa,” she then gazes deeply into my eyes. “You can live forever.” Toyosatomimi no Miko smiles kindly.