/jp/ - Otaku Culture

I'm crying.

I really am crying in the middle of the street. Not thinking, I turn and walk away, head low—their words give chase like ghosts, stares wide and many, murmurs deafening, and it's hurting, it's hurting, it's hurting—

My hands clasp my ears, eyes shut like heavy floodgates, and before I notice I'm flying, groceries exploding out of their bags and scattering everywhere as I dart towards the forest like a missile, recklessly accelerating, narrowly dodging trees and wild life, tears streaming, not an ounce of understanding of my actions. Why am I flying? Why can't I control my speed? Why did I keep the lie alive, knowing it'd explode in my face one day? Why do these consequences hurt so much? I've already lost everything, so why does it hurt still?

I hold flocks of my hair, eyes wild, tears thick—

—then, in a flash, I crashed into a tree, exploding its trunk, my body flung around like a rag doll, hitting another tree, then another, a massive rock, and, finally, rolling down a small hill. As the cloud of dust rose, I decided not to get up, body hurting all over… A good hurt: something that's not whispers or the decay of innocence…

I don't know how long I stay here, amidst dry leaves and focusing on my fading pain—no, don't go… It does anyway, and all it leaves behind is poison on my tongue, body feeling like a carcass.

… All those supplies cost a lot. It's all lost. I'll have to buy more; maybe find timber in the forest instead of buying it now? Yeah, that's an expense I can cut. Fish too. I can use D-Danmaku to—to f-fish—…

My whole face contorts. I have no tears to shed.

So I roll over, staring at the starry skies. I spent a lot of time here, floating in this pool of self-pity, that it became night… Breathing in and out steadily, trying my hardest to recompose, I get off the ground, looking around as I fix my clothes—wincing and holding my right arm, which hurts like hell.

Hopefully not broken—I don't think I could pay Eientei…

As I walk, I wonder if I could use my powers to eat these past events. Truly is tempting… But my power, great as it is, also represents much of the worst Gensokyo searches for: convenience. Strong as you may be, if you commit a mistake, people will exploit that and try to take you down. A power like mine takes that out of the equation.

Without that variable, 'incident' will be an understatement to explain the outcome.

Using it freely would attract the big wigs that aren't affected, and I'd be caught between a wall and the sword, a chip to be bargained…

'No one deserves to be an object.'

… Yet, to keep on living in this horror makes the acid in my stomach rise. Every day something new and worse than the last is born; every day I have to live knowing I hurt Mokou so deeply and so thoroughly, she admitted having lost her heart—such words haunt me—; I'm not a teacher anymore, the thing I loved the most to be… the world is dark and the days darker, the Sun—her smile, red eyes—gone…

Standing in the dark forest, hurt and battered, I look up, face bathed with moonlight, arms holding my belly—blood circulation…

… It was the first time I truly felt hopeless.

—the drumming of a tsudzumi echoes in the forest, like a placid rain blessing my ears. With worn eyes, I look around, searching for its origin as it gets closer and closer, and— "What a day, hm?" The tsudzumi stops nicely, my eyes falling on the small lady wearing a big hat covered in snow and dressed in grayish colors by my side, her smile breathtaking: kind, beautiful, selfless—prompting me to nod, awestruck. "… You look lonely, Keine." She lowers the tsudzumi, gentle eyes on mine.

"I lost my best friend; people hate me…" I don't question how she knows my name. "… Because of lies."

She nods, looking saddened. "Terrible things have happened to you…" I stare better at her clothing, noticing that the scriptures are poems—her eyes smile, shining like the moon. "… But it doesn't mean things should stay bad. You're going to do something about that, won't you?" A moment of silence stretches… And I nod again. Somehow, her smile gets bigger. "… Your thoughts about sweet little ones these last two weeks have been my obsession, I must admit. Watching you slip again and again… yet, always come back to your feet—and yet to face the greatest struggle of your life, too… So, I think you'll be the perfect person~" She stopped, looking around and nodding satisfied.

I hadn't even noticed that the whole time we talked, we were walking; weird rustling sounds filled my ears.

—then, she began to disappear in the moonlight.

What the?! "H-Huh? Wait!"

"This world is cruel, Keine… Yet, very beautiful. Don't give up, 'kay? Now, catch!"

"W-What does—"

The rustling grew: two projectiles coming from above—I should've dodged, but her words…

I caught the projectiles—

… Two small, winged babies, sparse white-pinkish hair tufts on their heads. I stare at them; they stare back.

They began crying.

My hurt arm creaks. I wanted to cry, too.