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>> No.44918347 [View]
File: 212 KB, 849x1200, __hakurei_reimu_yakumo_ran_and_kudamaki_tsukasa_touhou_drawn_by_kouba__948479da101f51c0734ab56dd5e603c5.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
44918347

>>44896317
(4/4)

The last days were full: Aya is now part of the alliance—Chen has been demanding we name the alliance, as it'd be 'cool'—and, well, is pregnant and in love with Anon. I hope neither gets in the way of her job as a spy, which should become official next time Toutetsu shows up. Until then, there's not much we can do but wait and serve as Anon's lifeline.

... Or light—I prefer that.

"43.645074, -115.993081," I repeat to myself quietly, eating fried tofu and tucked in my warm and cozy knitted clothes, gradually making my way back to the HSE, my mind not really here.

It's always refreshing to leave that cursed building and stretch my legs, something rather impossible with the overuse of the gap—

Although, as I walk through a crowded marketplace, I wish I had used the gap: suddenly I bump into a red and white figure, her drifting stone-gray eyes blank and dead, hugging herself to kill the biting cold. I should've kept walking forward and ignored her, but for some reason, I didn't, and her eyes locked onto mine, 5 feet between us.

"You..." Hakurei Reimu analyzed my clothing with frowned brows, especially my knitted pieces—scarf, sweater, gloves, and forearm warmers—some kind of realization dawning on her, stored away death turning into dangerous will to cause harm, "... Yakumo, those—"

"Reimu," I stop her. Noticing the budding tension, villagers make their choices; some stay, some rush away. I keep my eyes on Reimu. "Don't."

Her neck bent to look at my eyes again, a searing anger already having replaced the cold of death. Her voice, when it came, was a mere whisper; "... My husband knitted those, didn't he?"

"Reimu—"

"He loves doing that wool pattern of circles and wavy lines... He said it looked like our yin-yang."

"Reimu. I'll walk away." I examine her, eyes slitting a bit; I'd recognize a frayed and starved prey anywhere: the easiest to hunt, and also the one that'll fight the most viciously, clinging to life like glue. Unceremoniously, I hand her the bag of fried tofu, which she takes, perplexed. "You'll walk away too, and preserve your dignity."

She stared at the fried tofu with hard eyes, as if unable to understand what happened or what to do with it—then anger grew in her eyes like a boiler, her emaciated frame trembling. The villagers who chose to stay instantly had a change of heart and scrambled away.

I kept staring at her, waiting, my tails bushy, ready to pull a Spellcard at any moment…

The atmosphere strains, the first move to start the duel weights in the air, ready to come from anywhere and any angle, and—

... Reimu reached into the bag, took one fried tofu, placed it in her mouth, and, slowly, munched.

She was sobbing the next moment.

I watched wide-eyed as the almost forty-year-old Miko turned and left, her body trembling not with wrath anymore, but... I can't exactly place my finger on, incapable of seeing her eyes, yet I see the trail of tears following her every step like a curse, the freezing wind making her shrink and clutch the fried tofu as a lifeline, and scrutinizing glares—all join together to, for a moment, create an illusion: was that woman even Reimu?

I expected her to throw the tofu to the ground, to rage and commence a pointless fight—anything but cry and leave...

Yukari's plan comes to mind, a part of my body whispering: 'It is only fair.' Sins cannot be left unchecked; punishment comes to all; and, even though at different times, karma does not discriminate. The other part, a motherly one, remembers that smiling and cheerful tiny Reimu, of a woman who gave her life for a friend and then one of many of Yukari's choices that I should've questioned, but didn't beyond a: 'Are you sure, Yukari-sama?'

I remember the child we left to care for a shrine, all by herself, her mind tampered by Yukari's old magic...

... If only I'd have taken her in my arms, showered her with the same love I shower Chen, guided her in the ways of life, and... and—

Bitterly, I cut short the dangerous train of thought. Reminiscing about a past gone and a future that'll never be can bring only immense sadness and nothingness—yet the guilt has already settled, and I sigh.

I look at Reimu again, just a tiny shadow on the horizon, and my heart feels hollow—a cold not even the knitted clothes could dispel, as it came from within.

Making my way back to the nightmare, my thoughts loop a resentful question: "When will my sins catch up to me?"

... I also didn't notice I said that out loud, my cheek on Anon's shoulder, watching Chen play on a nearby treetop. Anon glanced at me and kissed one of my ears as if holy, softly saying: "Hard day today? Well... We all have our sins, yet no one can answer that question—it's rather sad." Despite that, he smiled, looking at Chen. She waved from the treetop, her smile wide. "At times like these, when such impossible questions pester us, I can only say... it's good to have friends!" He laughed, and my heart felt soothed.

I giggled.

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