/jp/ - Otaku Culture

(2/4)
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I blink, peering into her eyes and wondering what it was that made her say those words. I feel my heart tighten and the bitter cold of winter return, as though the embers within temporarily subsided before returning with a strange rage: ‘Fear of living.’ Those golden eyes never dodged mine—a newfound vigor and forthrightness that wasn't there when we sat by the pond and talked for the first time in decades.

… Is she right? Does that explain how I have felt since Hana left the shrine, leaving only empty echoes of what might have been? B-But why'd I even feel like that?! What's there to fear that I haven't faced already? I went to space—to the depths of hell—fought enemies unlike any other and am ready for my greatest challenge yet. Of what's to come, I fear naught… Yet, an echo exists within this broken heart, concealed by Chen's scarf, yearning for what Hana brought in those short but meaningful days; what can it be if Anon... I sigh. Marisa scratches her nape. “Well? Am I right or should I go bury my head somewhere?” She attempts levity and, indeed, lifts a smile on my face—she's clasping that jar as if to save her life; she's so anxious~

“… I don't know.” I take off my hand from the scarf and pull my embers from the air, a ring of warm scarlet swimming around my wrist as if alive. “This power wasn't free, nor was the revitalization of my body. Eventually all that I took will come crashing down onto me, so before the kickback comes, I'll make sure to squeeze all I can from this power in the battle… I don't wanna die knowing I could've done more.” Marisa just stares, her grasp on the jar tightening. “… But, at the same time, I just…” the words were on the tip of my tongue, begging to be let free—a body laden with scars, a good man torn; a child robbed of her birthright; a childhood. Years upon years of unending torture, of slowly watching everyone walk away from me… A hand rises, clutching this scarf around my neck—

—Another one, small and comfy but full of calluses from constant hard work, falls on my shoulder. I meet Marisa's eyes, mine wide… Hers is calm, supportive. Her children sway in the shimmering liquid without a care in the world.

That vulnerable feeling inside of me screams: “I don't deserve a future when I ruined theirs, Marisa…” The words come out, accompanied by frowning brows and a thumping heart, yet also relief.

The truth I could never tell Chen and Ran.

I battled for this recovery, managed to miraculously bring a smidgen of clarity to my mind and morality to stand and fight for them, Anon and Hana… And this is how I want to end: this strong and tall woman who’ll give her family everything because she can't bear the thought of having again only to destroy. I knew it from the minute I held Chen that those sweet, precious moments were a blessing—one that strengthened me and moved me into becoming a better person—and the Hakurei God's speechless words of consequence cemented it.

It's how I must go down—possessing nothing and meaning the world.

These flames are the essence of that…

… Their usage is directly linked to my chakras. They can be recovered, but there are limits. I'll burn everything—body and soul—in exchange for power.

Power that'll save my family.

Everything makes sense to me; everything aligns. Knowing that it was for the family I can no longer call mine, it feels right, and I am content with this kind of conclusion. This surrender is the ideal way to put an end to my horrible existence.

… Yet…

My mind is filled with images of cradling life and finding comfort in their arms—Ran, Anon—of fending off evil and acting as my child's wall; of catharsis while the devil fled.

The sheer validation I felt watching Hana wear the ascot I made her.

Being there for her when another devil tried to use her for nefarious purposes…

For those moments and many more, for a life that can be, I…

… I…

Echoes of screams, of violence and of rape; the strong odor of sake as it mixed with blood. Just another day at the shrine.

Gods, this is torture. It's utter torture—

—A heavy stomp awakens me from my stupor. I turn to Marisa, who has risen from her seat, her witch's hat slobbering down and concealing her eyes from me, but… In the soft light of my embers, perplexed by something in the very atmosphere, I held my breath. Was it that weird vulnerability that made me go so far? The nostalgia tinting my head, whispering about better days… She calmly fixed her massive hat, our eyes meeting.

… It was nothing like that. No, it was something else entirely.

Something I had when I was a child, a teen…

“S-So that's it, huh? You're just acting stupid again~” She chuckles, trying her hardest to hide the stray tear that tumbled down her face. “… Twenty minutes. Get that sugarcane ready and watch over my kiddos—I'll be back in twenty minutes, Reimu!” In a flash, Marisa jumps on her broom and flies away…

But her eyes of gold linger, burned into my memory.

… The eyes of someone I can rely on.