/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>46771496
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I woke up as if I had slept for years.

No nightmare plagued my dreams—I was right there. For years on end, I was right there; if I'd just pushed her like Ran Yakumo did, carved the problem instead of thinking it'd magically disappear all because she cried a little and apologized…—and as my eyes opened to the glory of the quietly creaking, handcrafted universe above, I said: “Fuck, man…”

“You're awake.” Patchy's monotone voice pierces the veil and, slowly, I move to the edge of the bed—table—dazedly staring at my surroundings as I stretch myself… Unlike these past months, movements came and went relatively easily, feet gently yet staunchly touching the cold ground of the Voilé, the usual jolt of pain and sluggishness nowhere to be seen.

I looked down, and my stomach was as flat as a board.

The experiment was a success.

I separated myself from my babies and now my body is as if I'd never been impregnated.

I should be happy, shouldn't I…? Yet, I unconsciously touched my flat belly, a harrowed feeling sprouting inside, my voice coming out weak and sore. “Where are they…?” I ask, turning to Patchouli and getting on my feet, almost tripping over the lack of an extra weight inside my belly, feeling desperate as my heart races. These eyes ignore the sheer magnificence of the universe above, the thousands of years of accumulated knowledge of the Voilé, and even my clothes that now hang onto me as if I were a child trying on their parents' clothes—focusing only on what matters: my children. “A-Are they safe, Patchouli? Where are they…?” I stumble toward the other magician embarrassingly.

Patchy… sighs. “Calm yourself, your sad, hormonal excuse of a proper woman; you look as pathetic as described.” My ears are deaf to the insult but not to Patchy's actions, one hand letting a sigil float up as the other languidly extended toward me, the heavy book floating to her side. “Here they are, your, hm… 'Silly little guys'.” Above my hands opens a sigil and, innocuously, as if not containing my most precious possessions, falls from it a jar of souls on my palms.

A flood of deafening questions assaults my brain and makes my heart thump to the point it aches; anxiety riddens me so completely my legs feel wobbly; I want to vomit and cry and…

… All erased as I let my eyes meet them.

I blink.

In the effervescent liquid, three white and beautiful souls swim calmly. Ah, so that's why it was such a struggle carrying your asses around~

I giggle.

I laugh out loud.

I cry.

I hug them tightly and never let go.

… My three kids~

“Reimu will get so maaad-a-ze, ahahaha!” My ecstatic voice resounds through the Voilé as I say that. “One?! That's weak! Two—makes me wanna laugh! I got three! Three siblings for Hana; three dumbasses to teach magic to!” I don't know what comes onto me, but I spin around, hair flailing like a golden, fiery whip. Not even Patchy's puzzled gaze can stop me; my red cheeks and broad smile instantly replace my questions and anxiety with plans, ideas, and fantasies for our promising future. Die?! When I got to teach three kids how the Master Spark is undoubtedly the best way to go about Danmaku? HELL NO!

Marisa Kirisame is living, and if fate dares say no, she'll say: MASTER SPARK!

And may fate commit suicide.

I collapse onto my back, surrounded by books and strewn pages, arms outstretched, gazing deeply into the jar against the backdrop of the cosmos, happiness palpable. So very pretty~ “That was quite the display.” Patchy says, floating to my side, that heavy book under her arm—I should name that thing; I'm in the mood right now~heh, I'll need three names. “It's all temporary, and by my admittedly hasted studies, the children won't grow inside the artificial womb; if you want them to actually continue to be developed, we'll need to… insert them back inside you.” I nod along, barely paying attention to her. “Leave the floor; we must conduct tests… Hm, in actuality, it doesn't matter. I put my throat on the line that all is fine and we'd only waste time with such measures.” She says, a spec away from pouting, inexplicit rage in her eyes at something—or someone—beyond my understanding. “… Are you feeling okay?”

“I've never felt better~”

She hums. “Hm, guessed so.” A more serene note takes over her face then, the lack of hat causing a few purple strands to fall on her face—it doesn't seem to bother her. “What are you intending to do?” There's a genuine curiosity in her tone.

“Surf on my broom; swim a bunch—show Anon our children~” I press a finger on the glass and move it around, the souls inside swimming after it; my heart feels as full as a young Reimu after exploiting to the max a Geidontei eat-all-you-can-for-free golden ticket.

Patchy nods thoughtfully, her gaze moving to the universe above us. “Marisa Kirisame, a mother—what a world.”

Smug, I say. “You may be one too someday~”

Instead of sending me a death stare, she hums, rage hesitantly replaced by a soft smile. “Unfortunately.”