Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Red eyes stared into a thousand brown gazes. Somewhere in this expanse of sunlight, where every dark head had a crown of gold, there was one whose gaze could match the beholder’s own. Or at least, that was what Reisen was told, and she’d been at the fields long enough for the flowers to greet the rising sun and look almost the other way as it travelled.

“Maybe it’s… this one?”

Reisen Udongein Inaba didn’t often come to the Garden of the Sun, with the most marvelous sunflowers this side of the border of fantasy, standing like a patch of summer even before the spring. She was tall, but most were at least twice her height, and a great many more towered such that the field was like a vast sea, with countless crests and valleys of gold, changing by the day. In all her time trudging through the fairy paths below, she hadn’t seen a fully-bloomed sunflower whose face perfectly matched her height until now.

The dark circle might have been a little more saturated, but that also might have been a product of her own imagination. She was tired, and yes, a little mad—or she figured she had to be, otherwise her red eyes would turn others sane. The flower was no mirror, but she knew herself well enough, and she had no wish to see how many knots were in her hair or how disheveled her jacket was.

Reisen had received her task the previous night, and at first it was quite simple. Her master, the genius doctor Eirin Yagokoro, was seeking a cure for a persistent illness that was plaguing Gensokyo, and six flowers were selected as possible keys. Finding a handful of high-quality specimens, even though winter hadn’t quite departed, overall didn’t seem like the worst mission until a certain someone burst into the room.

Princess Kaguya was in one of her whimsical moods, and pushier than ever. Five of Eirin’s required flowers just so happened to match the same ones in the story she’d been going on about for at least a solid week. She wasn’t very happy to hear that there were six flowers.

“Five impossible flowers,” the princess said, “there couldn’t honestly be a need for one more, right? It’s basically the same as the story, so make it the same.”

To Reisen’s chagrin, Eirin actually showed interest in Kaguya’s story. It was a blessing in disguise, however—after some consideration, Eirin decided to strike the sixth flower from the list. Not only did this appease the princess, it also lifted a huge weight from Reisen’s shoulders, because that particular flower, as Eirin herself admitted, was the actual impossible one.

“Very well, Udonge,” Eirin said. “Go collect one each of these… five flowers. Impossible or otherwise, it’ll do. Just don’t drag your feet. The Muenzuka won’t wait for us.”

The Muenzuka virus was doing a terrible number on Gensokyo’s precious humans, and it was more than a mild annoyance for youkai as well. Ever since it showed up several months ago, people everywhere began to withdraw to themselves and their homes. Markets were abandoned, events were cancelled, routines were shattered and, of course, humans died. Reisen could only imagine what the situation with the afterlife ministry was like, but there was no time for that when Eientei’s Hourai Pharmacy was enduring a constant flood of patients. Things were finally settling down within the past week, but instead of a break, this meant it was time to work full-time on the cure.

And here Reisen was now, staring at such a perfect specimen—probably. Most of them should have qualified, given how boldly they were blooming through winter’s icy grasp, but for whatever reason she wasn’t satisfied.

Five impossible flowers—stories did have a way of coming true in Gensokyo, and if such mythical flowers existed, they would surely be the most remarkable ones of their variety. It was her chance to impress both Eirin and Kaguya, and she’d already committed her whole morning to stumbling through the raking leaves. Having been told to approach it as she wished, she now had a decision: Either fool herself into thinking the flower before her was impossible, and take it, or accept that the impossible flower was just that, and take the one before her.

“Hmm. I bet you don’t get much sun down here, huh?” said Reisen. “The others are so much taller than you. Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

Great. She was talking to flowers now, but maybe she could delude herself into making a myth of this thing yet. She righted her posture, and one of her drooping rabbit ears stood. Her eyes sparked, emitting a pulse of insanity that she watched bounce lazily off the sunflower’s face and deflect somewhere behind her.

“Oh, it’s at an angle. That isn’t meeting my gaze at all. What am I supposed to—”

A voice rang out from behind. “Aha! I got it! The treasure is ours!”

Reisen whirled around and saw two small figures only a few paces away. It was rather warm in the garden, but winter’s chill was suddenly quite acute.. There was an energetic fairy whose hair was like the sunflowers’ leaves, and her boisterous friend whose hair was like the azure sky above. The second one had just been in Reisen’s medicine bag, and was swinging the specimen case by the handle.

“Hey!” Reisen said, stepping forth. “Give that back. I’ve got important work to do, and there’s nothing in that case anyways.”

“We’ll see about that,” said the louder one, and she was promptly disappointed. “Huh? What the heck? It’s just a scrap of paper.”

“Oh, is this a shopping list?” asked the green-haired one. “Wow… these are unusual. And the kanji’s so hard. I guess she’s right, Cirno. It’s just a boring old case.”

“See? I told you,” said Reisen. “I need it, so give it back or I’ll have to take it from you.”

“Laaame! If there’s nothing in the treasure case,” said Cirno, “then we just gotta fill it up with stuff! Like whatever cool treasures on that weird list. You read it, Dai, and I’ll lead the way! Let’s go!”

And with that, their fairy wings spread and they dove back through the sunflower stalks. Reisen briefly considered that the fairies might have better luck than her with finding the flowers, given their affinity with nature. Of course, if they didn’t get bored, the leader would probably just arbitrarily decide what was what, and Reisen was in no mood to wait on, bargain with, or even just chase down a couple of fairies.

Reisen was hungry, tired, and of course, she was mad. “Fine.” she said, “don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

In emphasis, Reisen’s red eyes opened wide and an intense light flared up. She could interpret all the waves even past her vision, from the rustling of the fairies’ clothes to their little heartbeats, and the lunatic rabbit’s gaze could do a lot more than that. The air whined for but a second, and from her irises a searing cone of light spiraled out. She aimed the crimson beam level for the first fairy, then turned her head upwards to catch the one attempting to fly off. Dozens of sunflower stalks were destroyed, and the climbing sweep incinerated all that fell. A long, straight cut was carved through the fields, and there in the center was the green-haired fairy attempting to help her friend off the ground.

“Y-you didn’t hit me,” shouted Cirno as she clambered up, ignoring that her sleeve and half her icy wings were blown away. “I just dropped your dumb case on my foot! You have some guts if you think you can take on the strongest—”

The green-haired fairy interrupted with a squeal of terror, and soon both shrunk back, their faces frozen. At once they turned and fled, straight down the cleared lane, but with twice their former speed. Reisen looked with despondence at the abandoned case, then with resignation to the menace looming at her back.

Behind Reisen the flowers had parted, but out of reverence rather than due to violence. A lady stood there beneath the shade of a great umbrella. Her hair was like fresh vines and her eyes like blossomed roses, an sweet poison hid behind her thin smile.

“Oh my,” said the strongest youkai, “have the flowers not been to your liking?”

All the color save her red eyes faded from Reisen’s face. Immediately a storm of bullets burst towards her, like a flurry of petals carried on a swift wind, and Reisen was destroyed. Rather, the illusory copy of herself she left on the ground was, as she sprung into the air and took flight over the sunflowers. For a short while there was no sign of pursuit, but her ears twitched uneasily. Light was bending behind her.

That wasn’t right. Actually, everything was bending.

The sun was high in the sky, but the power gathering on the open umbrella made the entire world appear as if it was going dark. There was a good distance between them now, but the woman, perched on one of the tallest sunflowers, was clearly still smiling.

With little time and no cover whatsoever, Reisen ceased flight and allowed gravity to take her if the incoming onslaught wouldn’t. The clouds reeled, the wind choked and the world shuddered as the blast was fired, and falling down, Reisen watched light sweep over her entire field of view.

Reisen knew a thief’s version of the Master Spark, defined by overwhelming power but also, supposedly, love. Seeing the genuine thing from Yuuka Kazami herself cleared up what that meant, because this one certainly lacked any. Before Reisen was a savage torrent of power, like every ray of the sun over many millennia were all condensed into a single attack, blossoming forth from Gensokyo’s oldest flower. It would shred through all forms of life with utter indifference, but Yuuka herself did care for one category. So even as she swept the beam as easily as her hand, the blast went just above the heads of every sunflower. A mile away, Reisen was sure, two to two hundred fairies were just vaporized.

Reisen eased herself into as soft a landing as she could as the beam continued to scorch the sky. She shut her eyes and folded her ears, but the bright light and loud drone continued for many stretched seconds, until all was at last silent.

Though she could manipulate waves to evade detection by sight or sound, any movement through the sunflowers would give her away, so running wasn’t an option. Was Yuuka searching for her right now? Waiting for Reisen to leap out? Maybe Yuuka already thought her target a fine crisp, and wasn’t in the mood for rabbit tonight.

“There’s no way she could fire that again,” said Reisen, though she kept the sound waves muted.

Ever cautious, a threefold set of Reisens leapt at different angles into the sky, and straight away the earth quaked and all of them were torn apart in the blink of an eye.

“There’s no way I’m going to live…”

This was Reisen’s chance to run. The flowers shielded her from any of Yuuka’s bullets, but she was aware Yuuka could easily come down to overpower her directly. Thus, Reisen could either flee, or try to press her one advantage.

Perhaps because Reisen was even more afraid of returning to Eirin empty-handed, in some twisted way she had enough courage to choose her unlikelier option. She was rushing through the flowers towards the beam’s origin, and just as it dissipated, Reisen leapt, and saw she was hardly a few meters away from her foe.

Reisen’s lunatic eyes pulsed, and she saw the light of madness twist in through Yuuka’s, shaking the woman’s calm exterior just so slightly as a world of illusions closed in on her.

“Got you!” Reisen let all her power flow to her hand, snapping it into a finger-gun. “Lunatic—”

Reisen was betting everything on a powerful, point-blank shot to end it, but she forgot who she was dealing with. She didn’t expect Yuuka to resist enough to shut her eyes in a split-second, or dive forward in that split-second, and then grapple her with force that could split her in two. Yuuka appeared dainty and languid, like a lazily-floating lotus on the water, but when she needed to, she could instantly make that tranquil pond into a a rapid waterfall. The power fizzled from Reisen’s fingers as Yuuka’s own clamped around them, and then the world was spinning.

It was painful to be whirling around on just two fingers, and to feel the bite of winter in the sudden tornado, but the worst was the anticipation of either being thrown into the sun or being pile-driven into the underworld. Reisen could hardly hear herself scream as she was being spun around, and then she couldn’t at all when a hand closed around her neck and the other on her lapel, bringing everything to an abrupt halt.

“Afraid to die?” asked Yuuka. “Do I terrify you?”

Somehow, Reisen was the one closing her eyes and squirming to look away as the woman searched her face. Dread poured forth from Yuuka’s gaze, power from her fingertips, and above all was her sweet, florid aroma. Reisen wasn’t sure if she was trying to talk or whimper, but perhaps to her fortune, it all came out as strained gurgles..

“Don’t struggle too much,” said Yuuka in her soft voice. “I might just tear off your head.”

“I’m sorry about the flowers,” Reisen managed to croak. “Please don’t kill me.”

Yuuka’s grip tightened, then she suddenly let go and laughed. Reisen nearly fell out of the air as she tumbled away, hacking and cringing as she steadied into a float.

“Very good,” said Yuuka. “You may go, if you’ve learned your lesson. I was only teasing, little rabbit.”

“If that’s teasing,” said Reisen, “then I truly am terrified.”

“That was an impressive move,” said Yuuka, “I can tell you’ve gone all-out against many strong opponents since I’ve last seen you fight. I wouldn’t seriously hurt a darling bunny with all that promise… much. Certainly not the doctor’s disciple.”

“Yes, Master Eirin thanks you for your flower lore,” said Reisen, still coughing. “Stop by any time. Thanks for your patronage.”

“What brings you out here? You’ve been toiling around in the flowers all morning. Has the doctor sent for specimens? Picking them with respect is acceptable, but killing them as you did would not serve her—I should hope.”

“That was all me, I promise. I’m looking for some very special flowers…”

“Are they not all special?”

“Uh… Yes, but I mean especially special.”

Reisen sized up Yuuka, who was as calm now as she was in battle. The woman was an infrequent visitor to Eientei, less for medicine and more to pick up odds and ends like newspapers, bamboo, and unneeded specimens. It didn’t seem to Reisen that Yuuka could ever become ill, or actually need to come all that way for most of those things. Perhaps the flower youkai enjoyed conversation with Eirin, a similarly ancient being, or she appreciated the princess’s garden and stories. And if she didn’t come just to bully the rabbits with her unnerving presence, she certainly would do so now. Reisen never wanted to seek her out, but she knew that if anyone knew about the impossible flowers, it would have to be Yuuka Kazami.

“Let me think,” said Reisen, still barely capable of just that. “I had a note written down in my case. Can I show you?”

The swathe Reisen had cut was quite easy to find, and sensing that permission was given, she went to retrieve her dropped specimen case. While it looked nondescript, it was a very particular item, though she cared more for the crumpled note inside presently. Yuuka was already beside Reisen when she retrieved the paper, which read:

1. Himawari: The sunflower that meets the beholder’s gaze
2. Higanbana: The red spider lily where Manju and Saka reunite
3. Hasu: The eternally chanting white lotus
4. Usuyukisou: The befouled edelweiss fallen to Hell
5. Komakusa: The divinely high queen of bleeding hearts

Looking over the sparse descriptions made the items seem even more abstract and silly than Reisen remembered. The flower box, which was really more of a briefcase, was a wonder devised by both Eirin and Kaguya. It could preserve contents as though time was still, a little pocket of eternity. Even the ink on the note felt somewhat wet, just as it’d been when Reisen had hastily scrawled it and threw it inside. It reminded her of the note’s one absence.

“Yeah,” Reisen said. “There’s just no way…”

“Hm. These are special indeed,” said Yuuka. “We are on the brink of spring, but many of these are not so hasty to bloom even as life returns. I do think they’re out there, though.”

“Well, if you think so, they have to be,” said Reisen. “There was actually one more, but Master Eirin crossed it off. It’s the only one I knew exactly where to find.”

“I hope it isn’t my parasol.”

“I think that might actually be harder to obtain.”

“Then it isn’t so dire, is it?”

The sixth impossible flower. The one protected by the iron curtain between Reisen’s home and the one she had abandoned, a precious thing eternally hidden in the pure land but a gorgeous jewel amid growth and decay. When Eirin gave her disciple a full name, she had the lunar udonge in mind, though Reisen wasn’t sure why. One of the tree’s “fruit” had to be miraculous if put in the lunar sage’s hands, but apparently, Kaguya’s little udonge bonsai wasn’t good enough for that. That, or it was too good.

“Do you need this sixth one?” asked Yuuka. “Perhaps I know something.”

Reisen shook her head. “It’s impossible to get. Well, these ones are too, honestly. But that’s supposed to be the point.”

“Quite the defeatist. So you won’t take it seriously if I told you you almost had me beaten?”

“I wouldn’t, no.”

“Of course. I was truthful when I said I was impressed, however. And for something that may actually lift your spirits, I can show you that one of these is not so impossible.”

“What? You can?” Reisen almost dropped the case. “But that’s… I mean, I guess it isn’t?”

Without a word, Yuuka lifted into the air, flowing at her easy pace, and Reisen followed. They settled on a small, bare mound beneath the sea of flowers, an almost imperceptible patch of grass. There was just enough space on the top for both to stand, though Reisen did not enjoy being so close.

“Um… where is it?” asked Reisen.

“Look for her.”

Reisen leaned back as Yuuka turned to her, and quickly looked away to do as told. It she had to spin three times before she saw it. Within the sea of sunflowers, exactly one was pointing directly at her. She thought that maybe it was a joke, and Yuuka made it do so, or worse, from it a hail of bullets would blow her apart, but as she stared into its dark face she felt something staring back. The flower was turning red, and for a moment Reisen’s focus wavered, like a little part of her went numb.

It wasn’t a mirror, but she saw herself. She guessed enough of her current appearance, but instead of an untidy earth rabbit covered in bruises sh saw a Reisen that she hadn’t seen in a long time. Her posture was straight, ears tall, clothes pressed and orderly. She could fall in line with a whole rank of lunar rabbits, but it was her face that separated her, struck her the most. Flawless, stern, proud. Her eyes flamed, yet they were cold. She raised a hand, pointing. To shoot? To accuse?

“Who are you?” the image seemed to say. And she fired.

Reisen heard the phantom gunshot, sword she saw the bit of lunarian steel crash into her temple. her eyes shut reflexively, but when they opened, she saw only the sunflower, and in the corner of her vision, Yuuka was looking at her, frowning.

“Wh-what happened?” asked Reisen to nobody in particular. She’d never used her eyes on herself. In fact, she’d never been able to.

“But this flower has strength all its own,” said Yuuka, seeming to read Reisen’s thoughts. “I don’t think it drove you mad, per se. It simply met your gaze and showed you something born of yourself.”

“I’m not sure what to make of it. What do you see in it?”

“She’s very cute.”

Reisen looked at Yuuka with a mixture of annoyance and confusion, then found herself looking down.

“This child appeared a few months ago,” said Yuuka, “when everyone was in a fuss over miracles and whatnot. It must be the one. Now, if you promise to treat her well, you may have this gift. I don’t know where the rest are, but I’d love to see them before you turn them in to the doctor.”

“Really? Thank you, I will! My master may need its… um, her help for developing medicine against the Muenzuka virus. Is that alright?” Reisen’s tone faltered and she groaned. She had no idea why she asked.

“To put it in brief,” said Yuuka, ”I have some interest in maintaining the balance in Gensokyo as well. Fighting an unwelcome illness is a good cause for a flower. Beasts and humans are keystones in nature’s balance, and I should like to see them evolve and thrive as they will.”

“A lot of illnesses and solutions are all artificial, though. Muenzuka seems to leave plants alone, so I figured you wouldn’t care much for it rampaging around.“

“You over focus on the line between artificial and nature. It’s my hand that tends to a flower, extending its life, isn’t it? But it’s nature that eventually changes its colors, withers its petals, and brings it death. There’s value in that cycle. Even I can be charitable and nudge it for the rest of you—nature will win in the end.”

“So what do you think of things that never wilt? Those that defy life and death.”

Yuuka shook her head. “Even those things change in time, little rabbit. There’s a day when the pure lands will rot, too. When it comes, flowers will still be blooming.”

Reisen felt a chill. If anyone could outlast eternity, it might be Yuuka Kazami. She watched Yuuka take the sunflower’s head with only her fingers, like a very gentle execution, and gingerly accepted it into her specimen case.

“Thanks again,” said Reisen. She bowed, and when her head raised, she smiled.

Yuuka smiled back, and as the rabbit wilted beneath her gaze she laughed, turning away to join her golden kin.

When she was finally alone, Reisen let out a heavy sigh and reexamined the case, not looking too hard at the sunflower. She spent quite a while finding the first, but all things considered, it went well. The flower actually existed, for one thing, but she still wasn’t convinced she’d find the rest by whatever arbitrary time limit she had. There was some invisible line between Eirin receiving her warmly with tea and warmly with a boiling bathtub.

In fact, finding the first flower might have been a bad thing. She was obligated to complete the set now, because if she didn’t Kaguya would complain about it for the rest of her life, which meant forever, despite what Yuuka said. She couldn’t very well give the sunflower back to Yuuka, either. This whole thing was a trap of her own making, and she was resigned to it.

Temptation finally got the better of her and she looked hard at the sunflower. it looked back, but nothing happened. Only her head projected the image of that once-proud lunarian soldier, and Reisen shrank as she shut the box. She had better things to do than navel-gaze, but the voice she heard, her own, still echoed in her head.

“Well, I’m Reisen,” she said slowly, then groaned. Great. Now she really was talking to herself.

“Whatever. Sure, the flowers can exist,” said Reisen, tapping the note in her pocket, “but why do they have to be so vague? Am I just supposed to stumble backwards into all of them? If only Kagerou never told the princess this goofy fairy tale…”

Reisen hardly remembered the whole story herself, but there was at least a happy ending for the heroine, probably. For her that would be coming home to a lot of praise and ideally, the tea. She was a hardened incident resolver on earth, and back on the moon she’d been trained by the best of princesses. Five flowers wasn’t such a big ask—was it?

Chapter Text

Standing on the eastern border of Gensokyo, the Hakurei Shrine was one of the most famous and important places in the sequestered realm of fantasy. Reisen bowed, then stepped beneath the great gate with her head high in recognition of the local god. And then she sighed and let both her ears and face droop. Snow was piled up, the shrubs were untamed, and as ever, a lonely wind cut across the desolate space. If a single cherry blossom had dared to bloom on the very brink of spring, it was snuffed out, leaving the trees barren and utterly cheerless.

Reisen adjusted her blazer and dusted her shoulder as a lump of snow from one of the powder trees fell, and from there she made it to the donation box. She had only her bamboo medicine bag to carry her specimen case, but did have a little money on her, and out of pity let a few coins fall.

Her red eyes glowed as she peered in. It was rude, but the god surely understood. The state of the thing looked about the same as always, and the hollow thud of the coins dropping in was depressingly familiar as well. She clapped her hands and made a prayer for the obvious—four flowers and a cup of hot tea.

The shrine maiden was a lot of things—lazy and self-centered being common words, and this was enabled by her extraordinary luck. If anyone could help Reisen find impossible flowers, she figured it’d be Reimu Hakurei. That or her fellow rabbit, Tewi Inaba, but the chances of that girl helping Reisen were even lower than the shrine maiden’s, and the chance of her pulling some terrible mischief infinitely higher. It helped that Reimu was quite easy to sway, since her luck had its limits.

“Reimu? Want to help me cure the Muenzuka? Everyone’s going to be real thankful!!”

She frowned. After searching the grounds for a good few minutes, still nobody answered.

“Reimu? Where are you?” Reisen called as she took her search to the front door. “Don’t tell me you’re sleeping in. I’m entering now, okay?”

Receiving no answer, she did so, finding relief at how much warmer it was within. Reisen spent a few minutes more knocking on every room and making a general racket, to no avail. She could manipulate sound waves to amplify her voice, but part of her wished for the megaphone guns she’d left at home. Besides making herself impossible to ignore, the noise could probably blow away all the dust in the rafters.

“If only the world would contrive to have someone else solve all my problems,” muttered Reisen.

Eventually, Reisen managed to attract some attention. It was a burning heat on her back, and at first she thought it might have been the disapproving glare of the local god. Nobody had ever seen the deity, but if she was honest, Reisen always envisioned an impoverished, rather haggard-looking thing with a scratchy voice.

“Hey! It’s you,” squeaked a child’s voice from behind. “Hi, Reisen! What’re you doing here?”

Reisen turned. It wasn’t a god by any means, and instead of a red-white shrine maiden she found a red-white-blue fairy with a silly hat and a rather fierce, open torch held proudly in her hands.

“Oh, hello, Clownpiece,” said Reisen. “Should you be waving that thing around in here?”

Clownpiece’s smile bobbed along with the waves of her long blonde hair, and the flame of her torch was licking at the ceiling in a way that would drive most mad. This was apparently the torch’s power, similar to Reisen’s eyes, but the two were mutually immune to one another. When Reisen had first met this little hell fairy on the moon, she’d been stuck on how freakishly powerful the girl was. Reimu, on the other hand, saw fit to allow Clownpiece to move into the basement for floor heating.

“Don’t worry,” said Clownpiece. “The god of Hakurei Shrine would never let it burn down. I’ve tried!”

“I suggest you keep that to yourself or you’ll have a gap youkai at your back, and that’s worse than any god,” said Reisen. “Do you know where Reimu is? I need her help with something.”

“Reimu got sick. So she was like, ‘People with the same illness come together, right? I may as well go out and have fun!’ She told me to keep the shrine safe because Aunn’s also out today. Which means, Reimu is totally going to get super drunk in the village tonight, and throw up on the porch, and stuff like that.”

“ Everyone’s so quick to relax. That’s exactly how the sickness spreads. She really does just float through life, doesn’t she? The fact she of all people caught Muenzuka is a bad omen.“

“At first people were actually coming for Reimu’s help and donating and stuff. Now it’s back to the usual, and she’s too sick to take care of the shrine. But she’s left it in my capable hands!”

“But she’s still healthy enough to go drinking.” Reisen shook her head. “Okay, it’s kind of a long shot, but I may as well ask… Clownpiece, have you ever heard about the Five Impossible Flowers?”

“Nope! Never heard of them,” said Clownpiece with an immense amount of pride.

Reisen unfolded her note, now kept in her front pocket, and showed it to the fairy, who stared and smiled blankly. After a few seconds, Reisen cleared her throat and read out the contents.

“Nope! Never heard of them,” said Clownpiece. “Are you hunting for treasure?”

Reisen nodded, not being too disappointed. “I suppose you could say that, yes.”

“Hmmm. Alright,” said Clownpiece, “wait right here, okay? I’m gonna go have a top-secret treasure-hunting super-fairy intel meeting. Gimme that! Luna can read it.”

Before Reisen could protest, Clownpiece snatched up the note and darted down the hall, feet pattering until cut off by a yelp and a dull crunch. In an instant the little footfalls were now stomping through the snow, and there was nothing left to hear but the sigh of the wind in the drafty shrine.

Reisen headed to the back porch and stepped over an oily rag that had clearly been left for Reimu, and silently thanked the shrine’s god that the torch hadn’t gone flying and set the place ablaze. There she sat, wishing she brought anything to eat, or at least had a cup of hot tea so she could emulate the shrine maiden’s habits. As the sun swiftly descended behind,, . Reisen watched the shadows grow long and took in the forest laden in white, the muddied turtle pond, and the imprint in the snow where Clownpiece had face-planted. For all that it was, there was quite a lot of beauty on earth.

“So peaceful and still,” said Reisen to herself. A frigid drop of water fell to her head, and her rabbit ears cringed. “Blah. But spring can’t come soon enough.”

Eventually, a light came up from the eaves of the greatest tree, like the first ray at the crack of dawn, and on her gossamer fairy wings Clownpiece returned, looking very triumphant. “Alright! Good news and bad news, Reisen,” she said. "Listen up!”

“Oh? So did your fairy friends know anything?”

“Nope! They’ve never heard of any of it,” said Clownpiece, “so that’s the bad news. Plus, they’re already looking for other treasures. Sunny’s been obsessed with this secret rock-castle-thing in the bamboo forest. They’re were just about to head out for it again.”

“Oh… that. I don’t think they’ll have much luck finding it,” said Reisen, “but I guess at least i won’t have competition. Thanks for asking. I should probably get going, since Reimu isn’t here and probably couldn’t help anyways.”

“That’s the good news!” said Clownpiece. “You get better than Reimu! I wanna find cool flowers, so come on, let’s go!”

“Wait, hold on. What happened to the shrine being in your, um, capable hands?”

Clownpiece grabbed Reisens’ arm and began to tug her out to the snow. Reisen looked back desperately—some red-white girl would stumble out of the shrinking shrine doors any moment and save her. It seemed more and more like the Hakurei Shrine condemned her to this fate instead. Perhaps she should’ve offered a little more money.

“Well, some enthusiastic help’s better than none,” said Reisen as Clownpeice pulled her along without a care. “Probably.”

***

“Okay, but who even is Saka?” asked Clownpiece.

“I told you,” said Reisen, her tongue snipping for lack of any flowers to snip instead. “I don’t know who Manju or Saka are supposed to be.”

“No, no, Reisen. You’re supposed to say, ‘Who is Saka?’ Go!”

Reisen pulled her face out of the flowers and sighed. “But that’s what… I mean, you don’t know either, right? What’s the point?”

“Of course I don’t know. Just ask!”

“Okay, fine. Who is Saka?”

“Kyahaha! Saka my—ooh!” Clownpiece suddenly bent, bringing her torch distressingly close to the red sea of flowers. “Look! This one’s gotta be Saka.”

Reisen went on over to the fairy and knelt beside her, and could only tell which one Clownpiece was fixated on from the girl’s frantically pointing finger. Amidst the expansive fields of red spider lilies, or higanbana, this particular flower didn’t stand out at all.

“What, this one? Looks normal to me. What makes this Saka?”

“Because that’s what i’m calling it! Now we go find Manju.” Clownpiece plucked the flower and handed it to Reisen. It wasn’t the first one she’d pulled out, but it was the first she didn’t discard or burn up.

“I still don’t understand,” said Reisen, eyes full of doubt. “I mean, in that case, who’s Manju? I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be a single flower specimen.”

“Manju is a manju,” said Clownpiece very matter-of-factly, “so we just gotta find a manju and put them together. Duh. We can ask Miss Junko! She makes the most delicious manju around. Come on! I bet she’s with Lady Hecatia right now.”

“Always with the Goddess of Hell. What an dod pair they are.“

The higanbana they were looking for was the “lily where Manju and Saka reunite,” as Kaguya described it. The Road of Reconsideration was a well-known home to the somber plants, with other locations being at the road’s end or across the border of mortality itself.. As for why these blood-red flowers were blooming so brilliantly outside of their usual time at the autumn equinox, it probably wasn’t because Yuuka had just passed through. It had everything to do with the places this symbol of separation called home.

Not far off, the Road of Reconsideration terminated at the groves of Muenzuka, where all manner of things were spirited away to an uneasy rest. As evidenced by the name, it was also the apparent origin of the sickness ravaging Gensokyo. Muenzuka was beautiful, yet hollow, full of weeping cherry blossoms and higanbana fat with the souls of the dead. It was a dreadful place for humans, but even Reisen found the place unsettling.

“Too many souls holing up here will lead to another incident,” mumbled Reisen. “If the shinigami’s going to slack, then I’d better pick up the pace to make a cure for this already. Is this flower really going to cut it?”

“Why not?” asked Clownpiece. “Look, it’s Saka. Doesn’t it look funny?”

Reisen squinted at the flower in her hand, scrutinizing its leafless stalk and many blooms. “Saka. Sa-ka? Kasa?”

As in, an umbrella? If she thought about it, this particular flower’s individual blooms all seemed strangely uniform, and fanned out in more of a concave shape. With its long stalk it looked somewhat like an inverted umbrella. And it was hardly likely, but for all she knew a soul named Saka was the one making it bloom. It was certainly something only a child could come up with.

“I may as well keep it,” said Reisen. “I’d better take a closer look around Muenzuka later, but we’ve spent enough time on this. I haven’t had a thing to eat all day.”

“Perfect! Let’s go find Miss Junko for those manju,” said Clownpiece as she began to flutter off. “And then we’ll have a big dinner and party and drink and throw up!”

“Wait a second,” said Reisen, “can’t a regular manju do? I’d rather not visit Hell…”

The light of Clownpiece’s torch was disappearing into the hazy dusk. Reisen shook her head and followed after stowing the higanbana. Besides Muenzuka, the next best place to look for specimens would’ve been in, of course, Higan. Crossing the Sanzu River wasn’t the hardest thing in the world, and it would’ve taken her right next to Hell as well, where the fourth impossible flower supposedly was. But it also wasn’t a very inviting destination, for a number of reasons.

On the other hand, her rooms in Eientei didn’t sound appealing either. In addition to the nebulous time limit Reisen had convinced herself of, she was also quite anxious about returning without all the flowers at once. Taking rest and showing progress were both reasonable and good. But when it came to potential failure and punishment, Reisen was far from reasonable.

“Ugh. I’ve only got two of them and this one should barely even count,” said Reisen. “It’s going to look like I’m doing my job halfway…”

Clownpiece waved her torch. “Hurry up, Reisen! We have to find Miss Junko.”

“That one flower that’s fallen to Hell could be referring to Former Hell too, you know. I don’t want to go about this so recklessly.”

“Miss Junko isn’t in Hell right now, though.”

“Huh? Then… Oh, forget it. The next item’s a lotus, right? Let’s take it one at a time. There’s a few good places that might be, like the tengu city.”

Reisen managed to overtake Clownpiece and made a landing, prompting the fairy to follow suit. The red tide of higanbana was a ways off now, a dark stretch in the gloaming light, but their vaguely corpse-like aroma remained ever-present. Reisen folded her arms and looked hard at the darkening sky. Her ears twitched in different directions, as if being pulled one way or the other.

“White lotus,” said Reisen. “Hmm… I got it. This way I don’t have to go to Hell, or worse, home. We’re going to the buddhists. They’re always willing to provide food and lodging. And ‘chanting white lotus’ describes Miss Byakuren perfectly.”

“Whoa, are we gonna kidnap monk lady?”

“That would definitely qualify as ‘impossible,’ but preferably not. They keep lotus ponds in Myouren Temple, and I’m sure Miss Byakuren could give us some insight. Who knows? Maybe they even have manju at the temple.”

Clownpiece frowned and spoke wit the bluntness only a child could manage. “Reisen, why are you so scared of Miss Junko?”

“What? Well, I don’t exactly know her or your master that well, but they both want to bring down my former homeland. It was almost the end both for the moon and the earth. I’d rather not get involved with people operating on that scale.”

“Yeah, but your’e the one who stopped us that one time. Can’t we all be friends now? I think they like you.”

“That’s… good. But I think it’s more complicated than you think, Clownpiece. I stopped the lunar invasion because Master sent me. I just managed to follow my orders through.”

“You make it sound like such a little thing. So what would you do if another fight with the moon people starts up?”

“Master will know what to do about it. I hope not to see another in my lifetime.”

Clownpiece nodded, a strange lucidity on her face. When she turned away her slightly manic smile was back, illuminated by a near-full moon rising just above the teeth of the distant mountains. Reisen began walking with Myouren Temple in mind, and Clownpiece obediently bounced at her side, but the cold glare of the moon felt more discerning than usual.

The rabbit’s ears twitched. It wasn’t as easy down on earth, but Reisen could still tap into the telepathic network that the lunar rabbits used. She could faintly hear the general grumblings of the overworked rabbits, their gossip seeming so vapid and alien now. They couldn’t be judged so harshly, though. Lunar rabbits were servants,pets, mere cannon fodder for the front lines. None of them knew or cared for the greater designs of the Lunarians, and part of Reisen missed that ignorance.

“I know Junko and Hecatia both hate the moon for their own reasons,” said Reisen, “but what do you think, Clownpiece?”

“Whatever they want, I want! Also playing on the moon is super fun, so we have to shoo them off so I can do that again.”

“Uh-huh… So we’re not so different.”

“What about you, Reisen?”

Reisen shook her head. “It’d be easier for me if the Lunarians just left us alone. Some are even saying that they planted the Muenzuka virus. People like them, Master, and the sages see all this as some cosmic game of chess. I just call it exhausting.”

“Ka-boom! Miss Junko’s gonna take the whole chessboard and smash it!”

The night grew and the forested path coiled around them. As distracting as Cloenpiece’s shadowboxing and flailing torch were, Reisen still found herself fixed on the wan light of the moon behind the trees. She never thought very highly of Lunarian civilization when she was a part of it—rabbits were too busy for that. She naturally thought even less of the earth, but after many years of refuge as an earth rabbit, her resentment grew. The Lunarians and Gensokyo would never see eye-to-eye—the moon itself was trouble, and she wanted nothing to do with it anymore.

And yet she still felt like another piece in the game, so small she couldn’t even see the whole board.

***

There were those who lived on the moon, those beneath, and those in-between or elsewhere entirely. People in Gensokyo and beyond feared or adored the night’s herald for a myriad of reasons, but in the end of the day, it was still only that to most of them. Another night, another sign that the larger world was moving, and all the smaller things with it.

With her forearms and dress covered in dirt and sweat from a long day’s work, Kagerou Imaizumi was one such smaller being. The shadowy wolf ears atop her long hair flicked in agitation, feeling the thin moonbeams filtering through the fog-laden bamboo thickets. The full moon was almost upon the land, and Gensokyo’s only werewolf was not very fond of it. She lived a largely uneventful life alone in the deeps of the forest, cutting bamboo and occasionally peddling her crafts. All a night of long fangs meant for her was an uncomfortable break in her usual flow.

“Five impossible flowers,” said Kagerou, “looking from earth to the moon… Five little blooms on the borders of the worlds…”

In anticipation of tomorrow’s howling, she couldn’t keep silent as she usually did. She found herself singing to pass the time, though in her own opinion she wasn’t very good at it. Of course, she did compare herself to Gensokyo’s only mermaid, and few measured up there.

She hummed and once again got on her knees to find the right node of the bamboo, and made a single chop with her small hatchet. The mature stalk fell with a hushed rustle, and she set about cutting it into smaller pieces. The Bamboo Forest of the Lost looked like a dizzying jumble to most, but Kagerou’s discriminating eye knew every secret spring, hidden valley, and the best bamboo clusters.

With so many humans cloistered in their homes, things to pass the time were a little more in than the usual fare of furniture. This week Kagerou planned on making most of her harvest into instruments. She was motivated in part to involve herself a little more in Wakasagihime’s recitals, and though she knew how to make some woodwinds, she hardly knew how to play them.

“In fields of gold, she found the sun that shone back her eyes bold. In it the earth’s sparkle was so keen, the gaze went from red to green. Upon the river of death, there bloomed a place where two lovers again shared breath. Her heart low, she went to the garden of snow, and…”

“And this is stupid,” she said with a particularly heavy chop. “I don’t know how she does it. Can’t write melodies, can’t write lyrics.”

Kagerou’s brow furrowed and her once-rhythmic pace became freeform. Soon she stopped, muscles tense and ears perking well before anything reached them. Kagerou was often the predator, but she instantly understood the feeling of being prey.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” said a voice. “It’s an interesting narrative.”

Kagerou hiked up a leg, ready to run. “I already stopped. Who are you?” she demanded.

The stranger was standing closer than Kagerou was expecting. It was instinct that tipped her off, but her senses were quite sharp, particularly her nose. Yet this person had no scent whatsoever—if anything, scent died away from the woman’s tall form and sweeping black dress. Behind her there flowed seven fiery tails, dimly lighting an imposing silhouette in the thick fog. But her eyes, nearly empty and pale, almost had a glow of their own.

“I am Junko,” said the woman in an even tone. “I just happened to pass nearby. My apologies for startling you.”

“It’s fine. I’m just turning someone else’s story into bad lyrics,” said Kagero, only outwardly lowering her guard as she stood. “I told it to her, but the carefree woman in Eientei has it memorized and would make for a better storyteller, if you care for it. But it’s really Koakuma’s story. She’s the devil living in the vampire’s mansion.”

“I happen to be coming from Eientei,” said Junko. “It appears that the princess has a fancy for impossible quintets.”

“So you heard it, I imagine. Are you taken with it for the same silly reason?”

“It happened to speak to me, Clearly, it must have resonated to you to pass it on.”

Kagerou shrugged. “I don’t see it as much more than entertainment. It’s a cute story about a girl looking for beauty. It’s mainly interesting because that devil’s stories have a habit of coming true in some way.“

“Is that so? Then the flowers must exist here, and so must the girl.”

“Maybe.” Kagerou looked aside, finding Junko rather difficult to maintain eye contact with. “So. You’re lost, aren’t you.”

“Ah, how embarrassing,” said Junko, her gentle smile just barely growing. “You’re correct. I was content to simply wander and make conversation, but I’m sure you have far less free time than I. Forgive me for wasting yours with this meaningless chatter.”

“I’m obligated to show people around here. I can take you to the main road.”

“That would be appreciated, Imaizumi.”

Kagerou’s face remained placid, though her ears and tail did a lot of emoting. Only the dullest of creatures could meet Junko and miss the distinctive aura of a sage, god, or queen. None of those seemed quite right to kagerou, but either way she had many cards and was very deliberate with which she showed.

But Kagerou was a mundane youkai. She only nodded, and played along.

The escort out had little incident. Junko was polite, content with small talk, more of a listener than one to speak freely. In that way, she and Kagerou were similar, and it made the stiff hairs on her wolf ears soften just slightly. When they finally came to the edge of the bamboo, they were greeted with a cold wind and a clear view of the sky.

“You shudder against the moon’s face,” said Junko. “That’s quite unusual for a youkai.”

“Do I?” Kagerou shook her head, knowing better than to doubt. “My life would be very different if I wasn’t a werewolf. But I don’t really care for the fact. The moon’s only a monthly nuisance.”

“I find it to be an ever-present one. Wouldn’t you rather break away?”

“I don’t think that’s possible for anyone. A youkai lives by the moon’s constant cycle. A human lives in eternal fear of it.”

“And your’e stuck in-between. Would you ever wish otherwise.”

“Sure. But if I was human, I wouldn’t have some of my friends. And being wholly a beast doesn’t seem appealing either. There’s no changing it anyways.”

“Yet such vain thoughts are a simple pleasure, aren’t they?”

Kagerou sniffed. There was the scent of scant snowmelt, slumbering spring and the lack of anything from the utter enigma before her. The hillocks glimmered in the moonlight, cold and pale, but Kagerou found herself quite warm. Not because the hair was there already—it was only a trick of her mind, forever aware of the moon’s phases. No, being a werewolf didn’t do her much good, but it was the only life she knew.

Junko finally spoke again. “Are you familiar with a red-eyed rabbit, Imaizumi?”

“Reisen.” Kagerou’s nose crinkled, and she imagined she could sense the rabbit’s fear already. “You could say we’re friends. What do you want with her?”

“And if it’s something ill, would you still comply?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“Then I leave it to your judgement. I would like you to pass a message to her, through your youkai connections if need be. Tell her that a flower awaits her tomorrow beneath the full moon, by Misty Lake. I’ve left a similar message at Eientei. You may mention my name, but it won’t be necessary.”

Kagerou simply nodded, understanding enough to not question the rest.

“This would put me twice in debt to you, Imaizumi,” said Junko. “Either way, I’ll be sure to mention you to someone I know. She’s always in the market for authentic craftsmanship.“

“I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”

Junko bowed. “It was a pleasure. Good night, and stay healthy in these times.”

“Yeah. Good night. You too.”

As Kagerou watched Junko’s lavender tails flicker and fade into the night, she sighed. She surprised herself that it sounded more melancholic than relieved. Kagerou had more than a few guesses at Junko’s nature and her tie to the moon. She may have even spoken more of it if prodded. But Kagerou lived by her instincts—something small and essential was hidden in that woman’s eyes, and her heart held similar concerns as all the rest scrounging out a life on earth.

It didn’t make much sense for Kagerou to pity such a person, yet that was how her own heart spoke. She shook her head and turned back to the forest and its enveloping, yet gentle darkness.

Though the subject had never properly come up between them, Kagerou was vaguely aware ofReisen’s own inexorable tie to the moon. She never smelled like an earth rabbit, and she was once much haughtier than one too—but Kagerou never did learn if the taste was any different. What on earth was going on with her now? If it even was to do with the earth.

“Getting mixed up with incidents has never been my thing,” she murmured, “but I guess that girls’ never had a choice. So my own place in all this is…“

Kagerou took a cut length of bamboo from her bag and turned it over in her hands. “Small, I guess.”

It was these things that mattered to her. A recorder-to-be that just might get her enough earnings for some new spices. The nights by the lake chatting with friends and listening to music. The fact that the handmade bamboo bag on her back was the same kind Reisen used to sell medicine. Kagerou’s own world consisted of things in her stature, and all she wanted to change right now was her musical talent.

“Five impossible flowers, looking from earth to… Oh, whatever,” she said, and she vanished into the bamboo.

Chapter Text

Night settled in fast, and moonlight cast warped shadows about Gensokyo. On most years, the end of winter was the perfect time for youkai to stalk the mists and terrify the humans finally coming out of their cocoons. But this time, illness kept most people, including the youkai, wrapped up in their blankets at home. However, a certain form of life—if it could be called such—was thriving, and their lights could be seen in great multitudes above, like parading stars drifting treacherously low.

Reisen and Clownpiece traveled a wooded road leading directly to Myouren Temple, avoiding the bend that lead to the human Village. At length they emerged into the temple graveyard, where wafting incense roused formless phantoms to flow in some invisible tide above the headstones. The white flames danced and rolled, holding their own sort of lively party, sharpening the winter cold and filling the air with a distorted murmur of emotions.

Reisen hugged herself tight and walked a bit closer to Clownpiece, who was skipping about without any fuss. But though the flames of her torch frolicked in the same way, it hardly seemed any warmer than the distant light of the moon. They nearly bumped into each other by the time Reisen realized how much she was shivering, and when she looked up she noticed that the fire was more popular than expected.

“S-so many phantoms,” said Reisen, her teeth chattering. “Clownpiece, you’d better put out your torch. We can’t bring something like that into the temple, much less all these hangers-on.“

“What’s wrong with phantoms?” asked Clownpiece. “I thought they were supposed to accept everyone and everyone can be lightninged and stuff.”

“Enlightened.”

“Yeah! Being enlightninged is good, right? But doesn’t that also mean they die?”

“Kind of… You’d better ask an actual buddhist about it. Anyways, nobody likes phantoms in winter. This would be like dragging a whole party in with us, That’s just rude.”

Clownpiece pouted. “But I like big parties. And I’ve always wanted to be a phantom thief, you know.”

“What, like one of those phantoms who sneak off with people’s food? I thought everyone hated them for that, too.”

“No, silly. Lady Hecatia showed me the books and stuff. A phantom thief only targets the big guys who deserve it, and they stylishly show up out of nowhere to steal things. Then they vanish in a flash, leaving everyone in awe of how cool and mysterious they are.”

“But they’re still thieves, right? What’s that have to do with actual phantoms, anyways?” Reisen waved her hand in annoyance at the growing crowd. "Put out the fire or we’re going to freeze.”

“Boo! If I have to,” huffed Clownpiece as she pushed the blazing torch into the snow. It went out with a loud, prolonged hiss that sounded disturbingly like human screams.

Almost instantly, the train of phantoms following them dispersed, while the ones circling close steadily calmed and drifted away. The temperature returned from that of a howling blizzard in the dead of winter to the milder, yet still palpable chill of the season in its twilight. The rest of the way was uneventful, save for Clownpiece’s off-key singing. The melody and lyrical narrative meandered and broke constantly, but there were a few subjects the fairy often returned to.

“Roads go ever on and on,” Clownpeice sang, “Chang’e won’t live too long!”

Discomfort flicked Reisen’s ears, and her eyes darted over only to find an oblivious smile plastered on Clownpiece’s face. Reisen shook her head. From what little she knew of Junko, the woman had her vendetta against the moon as an extension of that against Chang’e, who was already a prisoner and a pariah in the Lunar Capital. Clownpiece likely had no idea of who she actually was, much less that Chang’e was a true immortal.

But Junko knew. She had to know. There were certainly plenty of reasons to oppose the Lunarians, as Reisen had come to understand, but if striking at Chang’e was Junko’s ultimate goal it seemed futile. It would be hard enough to war with a rock that rejected decay, and harder still to inflict lasting damage on a person permanently removed from the concept. Clownpiece’s master Hecatia surely understood the folly as well, but she was still Junko’s number one backer.

“Think again, don’tcha know, something something,” Clownpiece continued to sing, eyes seeming to expect Reisen to join in. “This is our last dance! This is our last dance, this is Chang’e…

“UNDER TORTURE!”

Clownpiece’s last lyric was bounced back at her with enough volume to shake the night. Clownpiece teetered back, spinning and holding her hat in place, while Reisen’s cringing ears folded and her tie flew up in her face. Before them were the stairs of Myouren Temple, and the small pink-robed figure at the top nervously glanced amid scowls from other residents within. With her own fluffy dog-like ears drooping, the girl threw her hands over her head and scurried down the steps to greet the visitors.

“My bad, I just can’t help it when I hear singing,” said the little monk. “Er, good evening and welcome to Myouren Temple! It’s good to see you, Miss Reisen. Did you and your friend come to deliver more medicines?”

“Sorry, Kyouko,” said Reisen, “Clownpiece and I are actually just here because we needed a place to stay the night, and I was hoping to speak with the head monk. I have some inquiries that might help us develop a cure for the Muenzuka.”

“Cure for the Muenzuka? Sure,” said Kyouko, “we don’t turn anyone away, usually. It’s been very hectic with all the sick humans and youkai coming in. I’ll go ask Ichirin about getting you two a room, okay? Wait here!”

Kyouko flew up the stairs, shoes echoing on the stone. She didn’t leave them for long, and it was much easier to hear her coming than it was to notice her unassuming silhouette in the night. Both a room and food could be provided easily, with the stipulation that Clownpiece couldn’t sing and a strong suggestion that they observe the temple’s customs for the duration. It was fair enough, and with a few nods Kyouko lead the unlikely pair into the buddhist complex.

Myouren Temple was shaped roughly like an elliptical bowl, with most of the buildings being built into the walls save for the towering pagoda at the far side. Before it lay a great courtyard of gravel, dotted with austere stones and trees that each seemed to be meditating themselves. Winding rock paths lead to bridges that arced over tranquil ponds dotted with lotuses, and the temple itself hummed with a vague, soothing ambience.

“Whoa! It’s so pretty,” said Clownpiece in too loud of a voice.

“Isn’t it?” said Kyouko, louder still.

“Let’s go get that lotus!” Clownpiece dashed into the garden without warning, kicking up gravel.

Reisen’s mouth opened to call out, but she clamped it shut as Kyouko hurried forward. She took her time walking into the zen garden—she understood you had to do that much without having to observe the strolling acolytes, who had a hard time remaining contemplative with the distractions running amok. There was still a measure of peacefulness in the heart of the temple, and Reisen simply drifted as felt natural. She ended up at a lotus pond, and Clownpiece just so happened to run up, ready to jump in. Reisen snapped her arm out and grabbed her by the collar.

“Look, Reisen,” said Clownpiece, wings flailing, “I think I found it! It’s this one.”

“is it because you say so again? I’m definitely not hearing any chanting.”

“What? Wasn’t it the eternally panting lotus?”

Reisen paused, not quite hearing Clownpiece. The lotus she singled out was nothing special, but her ears did turn and bend like a pair of dowsing rods. There was something in the air, though it wasn’t from the lotus pond before them. There was definitely panting, though,, courtesy of the puffing Kyouko who finally arrived after being lead about in a chaotic track.

“Please don’t run about,” said Kyouko between breaths, “just follow me downstairs so I can get you some dinner, okay?”

Reisen gave Kyouko an apologetic smile, though her eyes passed back to the pond, reprimanding Clownpiece on the way and making note of the particular flower, though she had no faith in Clownpiece’s judgement this time. Kyouko lead them in a wide circle around the garden’s central rock, then retreated to the gatehouse and took the stairs down into the belly of Myouren Temple.

“Sorry about all this,” said Reisen. “I hate to keep troubling you, but do you know when Miss Byakuren might be available to meet with me?”

“Hijiri is busy with her all-night recital,” said Kyouko as she guided them through the candlelit halls, “so she won’t be available for a while. The turnout isn’t very good because so many people are sick or scared of the disease, but it’s a monthly staple, and people like that kind of consistency when times are tough.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about those. She has a wooden drum and chants sutras for hours straight, right?”

“Yeah! I don’t really get it though.” Kyouko cleared her throat. “I mean, it’s nice! It soothes the soul. Anyone who hears it gets a little closer to enlightenment. You, like, understand your place in the world better.”

“Sounds interesting. So you don’t get to listen?” asked Reisen. She glanced at Clownpiece, who seemed to perk up.

“You can go listen to her in the main lecture hall upstairs,” said Kyouko. "I got stuck with groundskeeping because I was too distracting last time.”

Reisen smiled. “You know there’s a difference between your sort of performances and most others, right?”

Kyouko flushed and turned away, laughing. The small yamabiko didn’t look like it, but her penchant for sound and echoing noises made her a natural at music. Not the most skilled, but she did have the spirit and booming voice to perform punk rock with her friend Mystia as Choujuu Gigaku. The duo’s performances were rowdy and utterly nonsensical, but for some reason Reisen was quite fond of them.

Soon they arrived at their guest room. Like most of the rest, it was asmall, unadorned chamber with nothing more than two futons, a square stool and an incense set. Clownpiece pattered in and looked around as though she was missing something.

“I’ll get you your dinners,” said Kyouko, and her voice lowered. “Do you want any meat? Or even alcohol?

“Alcohol!” said Clownpiece. “Hooray! Gimme your strongest stuff. I can take it! Don’t forget the wagyu and the kurobuta and the—”

Kyouko put an urgent finger to her mouth. Strangely, Clownpiece’s shouting grew with an unnatural ring. Reisen frowned. She was less skilled when it came to sound waves, but it was still within her domain. She took a more direct approach and stuffed Clownpiece’s voice until she was just an excited mime.

“Please don’t give her any alcohol. Simple foods are fine, but if you have any dessert, I could really use some manju.”

“Some manju, sure!” Kyouko’s own voice was unrestrained—Reisen flinched, but subtlety wasn’t needed in the sound bubble.

“You need to behave yourself, Clownpiece,” said Reisen when their host departed. “We’re guests here, remember?”

Clownpiece’s mouth moved for a bit before Reisen remembered to release her power. “Gensokyo anyways,”

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” asked Reisen.

“I know how to be a good guest. I’m already a guest in Gensokyo, anyways.”

“But you’ve lived here for years now. Do you still see yourself that way?” Reisen frowned, receiving an ambiguous shrug. “Well, being a guest in someone’s house means you should take more care. You behave when you’re with Hecatia or Junko, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re usually okay with letting me play around.”

“Well, keep your playing around to a minimum while we’re here. Just because they’re buddhists doesn’t mean they can’t scold you.”

“Are they going to enlightening me?”

“Maybe? I told you, ask one of them about all this. I’m not so good with all the navel-gazing.”

A lot of concessions had to be made when it came to making youkai into proper buddhists. As creatures born of the moonlight, it was hard for them to even adhere to the early rest and early rising expected of them, and even harder still was taming their natures and giving up such simple pleasures like meat and alcohol. Even eating past noon was supposed to be prohibited, and while Reisen and Clownpeice weren’t following the teachings themselves, they did plainly see some crumbs on Kyouko’s face as she brought in their soup and vegetables on a tray. She placed it on the floor, handed each a cup of tea, and left with a practiced bow.

The last thing left for them was a manju, as requested. There had been two, but Clownpeice popped one into her mouth early and now that all else was finished, reached for the survivor until Reisen stayed her hand with her own.

“I didn’t ask for it so we could eat it,” said Reisen. “We were supposed to have Saka meet Manju, remember? It was your idea.”

“Oh yeah. That was my idea!!”

Reisen retrieved the higanbana from her box and stared dumbly at both it and the small treat. Clownpiece did the same for a while, until her eyes brightened and she took the flower in one hand and the dessert in the other. She made a show of examining both very closely, poking at the plant’s stem and the crown of the manju, until she finally just stuck stalk to wad, flower to flour.

“Saka, meet Manju! Boom!” said Clownpiece, holding the thing aloft. “Woohoo! We did it! Two down, three to go.”

“That’s… Okay, I don’t know what I was expecting,” said Reisen. “I guess if I don’t find the real one, Princess Kaguya might think it’s funny enough to accept it. Or she’d just laugh me out of the house.”

Reisen stowed the “impossible flower” in the case and picked up the tray. She watched Clownpiece carefully. Clownpiece was quiet and sitting much more still, and with an unspoken promise she put her hand over her heart and smiled.

“Just stay out of trouble,” said Reisen as she began walking to the door.

“I’ll be a good guest,” said Clownpiece.

It wasn’t that Reisen trusted a fairy to keep out of mischief. Even an unnaturally powerful fairy from Hell like Clownpiece tended to stick to small and stupid tricks, and she at least knew better than to tamper with the flowers that they were collecting. Reisen was simply distracted and needed time alone with her thoughts.

Reisen stepped through the quiet halls, taking in the ambience and breathing faint incense. One of her specimens wasn’t the real thing. She had to hurry to stop the Muenzuka and avoid punishment. And she just didn’t like something about her progress, even though all things considered, her pace was probably quite decent for finding things that weren’t supposed to exist. Her mind touched on each of these worries, yet didn’t go much further—for whatever reason, she actually felt like everything would turn out alright, and that was quite unusual for her.

“Whoa!” Reisen nearly jumped as she rounded a corner, empty bowls clattering. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

The woman Reisen nearly collided into didn’t seem perturbed. “Ah, if it isn’t the medicine-seller,” said the woman, bowing low. “Are you walking the axis of the world?”

“Not really, I think. I was looking to return this to the kitchen.”

“I’ll take it for you. If you’re trying to have a tranquil walk, go to the garden upstairs. Only be sure to walk the opposite way, clockwise, around the center.”

Just about every other time Reisen met Ichirin Kumoi, the youkai monk’s sky-blue hair was accompanied by the wispy pink clouds of her companion nyuudo Unzzan. Without the thundercloud’s massive bearded face around, Ichirin seemed quite small and easy to overlook. Almost as if in recognition of this, her outfit was quite flashy for a buddhist nun.

“Oh? Hold on a minute,” said Ichirin as she sniffed an emptied cup. “Who gave you this?”

“Huh? That’s just… Oh. I, uh…”

Ichirin frowned. “You don’t have to cover for her. Kyouko does have a long way to go. It smells very rich… This must be the exquisite stuff that Mystia of hers makes. Ahem. Worldly desires, worldly desires…”

Panic set in—or it should have, but Reisen again didn’t think much of it. So what if Clownpiece had a single cup of sake? If Reisen even found her way back to the room, Clownpiece would probably be gone anyways. Reisen fell into line behind Ichirin and followed her to the kitchen.

“So, where is your friend, the cloud?” asked Reisen.

“Unzan’s attending Hijiri’s concert upstairs. He does love it, but rarely gets to listen because he scares the humans off. There’s few enough this time, though. It’s a little sad to be on duty tonight, but that’s the way of things.”

“Maybe I should go and listen myself,” said Reisen, “though I don’t think I’d understand much.”

“It’s up to you to sit there and interpret the experience. I’m sure you’ll become a little more in tune with the world and all its infinite possibilities just by letting it flow over you.”

Reisen nodded. Ichirin worded it better than Kyouko, but it still sounded quite vague to Reisen.

They entered into the kitchen and Ichirin began poking about for the sake, presumably to dispose of it in the sink and not with her stomach. Reisen hung around the door and spotted Kyouko arriving, and hurriedly pulled her away into the hall.

“Kyouko,” Reisen whispered, “you gave her sake, didn’t you?”

“Eep! Only a little,” said Kyouko. “Pouring away the last of it seemed like a waste, but i had to hide it or I’d be in trouble. Was that bad?”

The question hung in the air for a time. Kyouko quickly turned and began moving towards the guest room, Reisen following. Every step came with a little more anxiety, and soon Reisen was berating herself for leaving the fairy alone at all.

Clownpiece was indeed missing from the room, though she left her polka-dotted hat by one of the futons. Being more than familiar with pranks, Reisen first checked if all was well with the flower case—she’d been right to think that Clownpiece wouldn’t mess with that much. Fairies did love treasure hunts and were far too innocent to consider betrayal. Reisen next checked the stool and screwed one of its wobbly legs back in, then moved onto the unclaimed futon.

“What the…“ Reisen groaned at what she pulled out with her hands. “Ugh, its’ a mess. She must’ve picked up all this from the garden.”

“Let me see.” Kyouko came up, ignoring warnings, and poked her head directly into the futon. When she pulled out, there were little rocks caught all over her fluffy hair. “Ow! Oof! There’s so much gravel in here. I’ll go get another one and clean this up.”

“No, I’ve got a better idea,” said Reisen, and she swapped the futons’ positions and put the hat on the one filled with rocks “There. Now I better go find her before she does something really dumb.”

“it’s my fault. I’m sorry.” said Kyouko, sulking. “I shouldn’t have had alcohol to begin with and giving it to her was a terrible idea. I’ll help you look.”

“Let’s forget the blame and focus on finding her. She’s a Hell fairy, but as far as I know her idea of fun is basically the same as all the rest. She probably won’t burn down the temple.”

“It’s okay! Hijiri’s blessing has made Myouren Temple completely fireproof.”

“Right, but she did try with the Hakurei Shrine, so…”

Reisen half expected to smell smoke, or hear explosions and screams and then for Kyouko to echo them out of habit. Instead, all was quiet besides their footsteps and the air was as it ever was, filled with the scent of aged wood and soothing incense. After her initial worry, Kyouko seemed happy to have something exciting happen amid her dull days of buddhist training, though it was of little consolation to Reisen. She could feel it. Somewhere in Myouren Temple, something more than the scent of flowers was about to light.

***

Between Reisen’s ability to detect waves and Kyouko’s ability to reflect sound—and know her way around the temple, of course—Reisen didn’t think it would be too difficult to locate Clownpiece. Fairies weren’t great at hiding their tracks, and the H fairy was a particularly reckless one. Occasionally Reisen did hear something patter behind them, but it was just little bits of gravel still falling from Kyouko’s fluffy head.

A group of tanuki fumed over their missing “tea.” An exemplary meditator had her incense stick suddenly snatched, and opened her eyes to find a reed mustache on the statue in front of her, and one on her own lips. Furniture was shifted, holes were poked in the paper doors, and plenty of secret snacks and trinkets, especially the worthless ones, were snatched up.

“This can’t all be Clownpiece’s doing,” said Reisen as she excused herself from a room of grumbling youkai. “I’m sure most of this is just random problems coming up because we’re asking. It doesn’t seem like anyone’s actually seen her.”

“Everyone here is an honored guest or a devout buddhist,” said Kyouko. “We don’t wouldn’t misbehave like that.”

Reisen didn’t need to reply. At least half the residents of the temple weren’t the best examples of well-behaved buddhists, and the one she was looking at shrunk beneath her gaze.

“At least she tries,” mumbled Reisen.

“Well, um, the human wing’s been left alone,” said Kyouko. “So everyone’s still good on that!”

“We shouldn’t be wasting our time down here. The first place we should’ve checked is with Miss Byakuren.”

“Don’t worry, her concert’s going on just fine,” said Kyouko, ears shaking. “Minamitsu, Shou and Unzan would’ve dealt with any pranksters anyways, but I can feel the rhythm continuing. Can’t you?”

“I dunno. I’m not good with all this mystical buddhist stuff.” Reisen shrugged and leaned against the wall as they came to the stairwell. “Why don’t we split up? I’ll go upstairs. It’s much more open, so I probably won’t get lost.”

“Lost! Hijiri says it’s okay to be lost.” Kyouko cleared her throat. “Um, maybe when we have this dealt with, anyways. I’ll do a clean sweep down here and meet you there.”

With that they split up, and Reisen started with a dash to the nearest entrance to the courtyard, but saw nothing amiss. A few individuals, none fairies,, were treading the central gravel sea, while others spoke quietly as they passed between buildings. Reisen took a long circuit through the exterior walls, still finding nothing. As she covered half the distance, she did hear a low, constant rhythm, and she realized she was at the back side of the temple.

Reisen cut through an open-walled room , stepping back outside and following the walkway to the central lecture hall at the base of the pagoda. One of the side doors was cracked open, and within was a sizable crowd, though widely spread with much space between each listener. Those towards the back could filter in or out, while the most devout followers were seated near the front. A portion of the room was taken up by a great pink cloud, but instead of a face of thundering fury, Unzan appeared relaxed, almost as if he were sleeping. Looking again, some of the followers were doing just that.

Given the hour Reisen couldn’t blame them much, and their performer, most likely, was not able to tell regardless. The vast chamber boomed with the steady roll of the wooden fish, and stronger than the drum was Byakuren’s endless sutra chanting. Her own eyes were shut, yet it didn’t even look as though she concentrated on the motion of her hand or the flow of words from her lips.

Reisen drew back and shook herself. It wasn’t the chanting white lotus she was looking for, and it seemed to her that even Clownpiece would’ve felt some greater force warding her from interfering. Reisen walked around the outside, and instead of cutting through the east halls she followed the stone path into the gravel sea.

“Maybe all the lotuses here are chanting too,” she mused as she came up to the pond she’d stopped at before. She watched and listened expectantly, but the flowers were simply flowers. “What am I doing?”

Reisen found herself focusing harder regardless. Perhaps she was just tricking herself into it, but maybe she really could feel Byakuren’s chanting throughout the whole temple. It was something more than sound waves, something closer to the beat of her own heart. She squinted at the lotuses, ears bending forward, and instead she got a bellow from the other side of the temple.

“Reisen!” hollered Kyouko as she raced into the garden. “Did you find Clownpiece?”

“No, I haven’t checked the east halls yet, but I don’t think she’s up here. Please don’t yell. Your head monk is having her recital just back there.”

“Wh-what happened? You sound just like Shou or Ichirin.”

“So I take it you didn’t find her downstairs. Then where is she?”

“You don’t think she left the temple, did you? But why would…”

As they pondered what to do, it happened. Reisen’s mouth dropped open first, and Kyouko did the same as she turned around. The flame approaching from outside the gate could’ve easily been mistaken for a wayward phantom. But amid the flickering white body was a bit of hellish red, and as it marched up the stairs it became apparent that it wasn’t a single wisp. No, there were hundreds.

A vast procession came to Myouren Temple, countless pale phantoms headed by a red torch that bobbed along with the fairy beneath it. The garden lit by moon and stars grew ever brighter, and winter deepened. The rhythm that could be felt throughout the whole temple seemed to become the marching of thousands of invisible feet as the phantoms crossed the threshold.

“Eek! Close the doors! Close the doors!” Kyouko cried as she ran halfway forwards with arms flailing, then seeing that she was too late, turned and ran back towards the lecture hall. “I have to protect Hijiri!”

Reisen hurried towards the gates, and stared in dismay as countless phantoms streamed through. The parade’s leader, and the only flame among them that wasn’t freezing cold, bounced along happily even as Reisen yelled at its bearer.

“Clownpiece! What are you doing?” asked Reisen. Though she sort of knew already—something stupid.

“Hi, Reisen!” said Clownpiece. “I’m bringing lotus lady an audience! They said they don’t turn away anyone, remember?”

“You have to be kidding me.”

“C’mon, phantoms! Let’s kick this thing into overdrive! Go! Go! Go!”

Most phantoms were more clumps of emotion than thinking minds, but all of them were capable of excitement. Besides rubbing off on nearby people—Hell fairies, for instance—they could also easily spread sentiment among themselves. The tongues of flame grew taller, wisps stretching out like waving hands. One fired a shot of white flame at random, disturbing a lotus pond, and that was the crack in the floodgates.

Reisen grimaced and put her hands over her eyes. Spiritual shots whizzed past, and at first she could dodge with only subtle motions by hearing them whistle through the air. Several went between her flicking ears, and her movements began to build as the cold did. Yet there was also a heat beginning to burn in her hands, over her eyes—she saw nothing but red, and when she removed her hands she loosed the color upon the massive white canvas before her. Hundreds of iris-like discs fired and expanded outwards, and the world’s silence at last broke into the din of battle.

Even Reisen couldn’t bring enough lasers and bullets for every phantom. It seemed as though the whole entire graveyard’s worth of spirits, and then some, had come following Clownpiece’s torch, and the fairy herself was now completely cut loose. Reisen yelped and ducked as at least a dozen huge lasers fired back, sweeping forth with the garden gravel jumping in their wake, each rock like a bullet in itself.

“Agh! Cut it out!” Reisen gritted her teeth as she weaved through some more shots. Her mind raced through the gamut of emotions, but she maintained focus on the urgency of combat above the phantoms’ touch. “Kyouko, help me already!”

Reisen risked a look backwards, but the pagoda was suddenly silent, or at least impossible to hear over the swoosh of bullets,. Everyone else on the premises had already beat a hasty retreat. Between dodging Clownpiece’s terrifying spells and having to beat back the approaching phantoms, Reisen’s hands were absolutely full.

Fortunately, a helping hand did arrive, though it wasn’t as large as usual for Ichirin. The loud creak of the gates came from the far side, and the resounding clang signaled the placement of a seal that shielded the temple with something more than the doors themselves. With the tail end of the parade scattering from her fists, Ichirin fought her way through the horde towards Reisen.

“Unzan!” Ichirin called out, but to no avail. “Oh, come on, old man! How can they all just sit there while this is going on?”

The individual phantoms were weak, but their collective presence created a freezing white sea that sapped strength from all but Clownpiece. The fairy’s face was flushed as she twirled atop the central rock, throwing lasers and meteor-like shots with wild abandon, laughing the entire time. She didn’t have any attention to divide to begin with. Combined with the phantoms, this made it almost impossible for either Ichirin or Reisen to gain any ground, the red flame taunting them.

“They’re going berserk because of the torch,” said Reisen. “That’s it! Hey! Ichirin!”

“Other way!” Ichirin shouted, apparently not heeding Reisen at all.

“What?” said Reisen. “Ichirin, we have to go for Clownpiece’s—”

“You’re supposed to go clockwise around the mountain! The center, remember?”

A babble of confusion was all that fired back from Reisen. Now hardly seemed like the time to observe customs, especially with a little jester atop the world’s axis. Reisen didn’t think about how she was drifting counterclockwise to avoid the attacks, and why would she? Apparently this was somehow more offensive.

Grumbling, Reisen ducked the next volley of shots by going the "correct” way, which hardly expanded her mind. She was still at best vaguely aware that the phantoms weren’t drifting far from the frenzy in the garden, though only some well-placed shots were keeping them away from the silent pagoda in the back. Reisen had a sharp mind for combat, but this bit of instructions on top of all the phantoms’ emotional auras distracted her such that she almost ran right into Ichirin.

“Hey! Aren’t you the one going the wrong way now?” asked Reisen. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, Miss Reisen,” said Ichirin, “I don’t have Unzan, so you’ll have to do. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“What do you—”

Immediately Reisen felt powerful arms grappling her legs, and for the second time that day she was spinning wildly about. A strange clarity hit her. If neither of their own shots could directly overpower Clownpiece’s, then something physical and especially resilient might. Better yet, she was being whirled clockwise, taking her mind off the frigid bite of every phantom she plowed through. Now it felt right.

Reisen’s red eyes saw beyond the phantom flames, even past the moon and stars overhead. Maybe this was what it meant to be between worlds, or feel the infinite possibilities, or whatever it was. Or maybe getting hit by all the bullets was just so painful that she instantly became numb to everything despite this state of hyper-awareness. Ichirin roared as she let go. All madness was quelled as Reisen careened through the air.

Barreling through white flames, comets, and stars and stripes, Reisen only became cognizant enough to scream as soon as Clownpiece’s shocked face met hers. And then, impact. Reisen and Clownpiece were like little bugs being flicked from the rock of the world, and Clownpeice’s torch was flung overhead to extinguish on the temple walls, proving all claims of fireproofing.

As for the bugs, they flew straight and true, and their own world was again peaceful.

Reisen awoke to a dark, starless night. Her head was spinning, and a face looked down on her. Was it Eirin? A judge of the dead? There probably wasn’t much difference. It didn’t even strike her as unusual that it was massive, pink, and with a great frowning beard. A cloudy mass reached towards her, and she began to feel as though she was suffocating as all went black.

Then it stopped, and with fluttering eyes Reisen saw Unzan’s massive cloud hand pull away. She’d been sat upright, and Ichirin knelt nearby. Through all the pain Reisen realized where she was with a jolt.

“I’m sorry,” Reisen said to the thundercloud, “I didn’t mean to—“

Ichirin put a finger to her mouth, then sighed. “Oh, never mind. Don’t worry, Unzan isn’t upset. It’s my fault, anyways. Are you okay?”

Reisen was in the lecture hall. The front sliding door had a massive hole in the paper screen, and phantoms were filtering in. Clownpiece was face-down on the floor behind her, and besides Ichirin and Unzan, a regal woman was seated nearby, watching with an indeterminable face. The concert’s audience was quickly dispersing, and Reisen caught a fearsome glare from a departing listener, or at least from the girl’s oni mask.

“Oh… I’m not dead,” said Reisen, in a low voice. She had to be quiet, of course, because the room was completely silent. “Wait, but that means…”

Reisen turned and started. Amazingly, Byakuren was still there drumming the wooden fish, mouth in a silent flurry. Beside her on the platform, Kyouko sat cross-legged, her meditative face occasionally twitching along with her ears.

“Kyouko seems well-focused,” said Ichirin. “Have you ever been to one of her concerts, Shou? From what I understand, she’s used to screaming out her troubles whenever she’s on stage.”

“I think this will be a good experience for her. Let’s leave her to it,” said the regal tigress beside them. She turned to Reisen. “I haven’t attended one of Kyouko’s performances myself, but she says that you’re a fan, Miss Reisen. What do you think of this, in comparison?”

“I mean, I can’t… hear it?” said Reisen. “Not now, anyways. How is she still keeping it up?”

“Hijiri’s concerts are based on the rhythm of the world,” said Shou. “It’ll continue long after we’re all extinct, and the world tells her she had no need to stop even as Kyouko came to fence in all the sound. By now, the bubble should be just around the both of them. I could tell something was going on outside, but Hijiri’s performances assured me things would be alright. I apologize for not coming to your aid, though.”

“We dealt with it well enough, I think,” said Ichirin, and she bowed her head towards Reisen. “Sorry it had to involve tossing you like that. You were out for only a minute or so."

“I felt pretty close to death, but it’s fine, I guess.” Reisen shook her head, looking around. “So are we just going to allow the remaining phantoms to hang around like this?”

“They seem to be a docile and respectful audience now,” said Shou, “though the room’s a bit too cold for most of us.”

The phantoms drifting all seemed chaotic, but each came to stop in a specific place, like concertgoers finding designated seats. Their pull on emotions was dull, and aside from the temperature they didn’t look like they’d be causing any more problems. As for the troublemaker that began it all, Clownpiece was lifted by a pinch from Unzan’s hand and placed in the middle of the discussion.

“I’m sorry,” said Clownpiece, shrinking between everyone’s gazes. “I’ll be super, extra good.”

“You can make it up to us with some temple duties in the morning,” said Shou, “or alternatively, perhaps you’d be better enlightened by attending the rest of the concert. It’ll be going until breakfast.”

“That sounds good to me,” said Reisen, smiling at Clownpiece. There were no objections.

“Minamitsu’s escorting people to their rooms now,” said Shou, “and neither she nor Unzan mind the cold. Between them you’ll be supervised quite well.”

More phantoms filed in, and up on the stage Kyouko was shivering, though otherwise she remained constant. Byakuren showed no signs of being affected at all, while even Shou and Ichirin seemed ready to leave. Reisen looked at the pitiable fairy before her and sighed, the breath being visible.

“Well, this is as much my fault as it is hers,” said Reisen. “I’d better stay to keep an eye on her, too. I wish I could hear the concert instead of just seeing it, but I kind of wanted to attend anyways..”

“I see,” said Shou. “Are you sure? You’re welcome to come by for the whole experience next month.”

“I can feel it without having to hear it, right? The infinite possibilities and such.”

“Very good,” said Shou, her stern face broken by a smile. “then may you have an enlightening experience, Now, Ichirin, let’s begin work on repairing the garden.”

“Right away,” said Ichirin. “Please enjoy the recital in our stead.”

At last every phantom apparently found their place, and Unzan’s stormy face again turned to one of repose. Keeping Clownpiece between herself and the cloud, Reisen brought herself into the lotus position. The room was filled with a deathly chill, but Byakuren’s beat remained lively, if silent. In the middle, Reisen allowed her mind to drift as felt natural, letting the world—or whatever it was—wash over her.

***

Pounding mochi. A rabbit’s work, and even though she was trained by the Watatsuki sisters to be a great soldier, the elder sister Toyohime always insisted that they keep up the traditions. It taught timing and teamwork, though everyone knew that the princess just liked the tasty treats at the end. Reisen never complained, and she was good enough that she never had her fingers pulverized by a fellow rabbit. Not that wounds lasted long on the moon—injury was too close to death, and such impurity had no place there.

The militaristic Yorihime would supervise the process with a firm shouts and reprimands to the beat, while Toyohime just came up with some bizarre, cutesy song to go with the back-breaking labor. They couldn’t get involved themselves, of course. Even when Reisen came to earth, it was a rabbit’s work down below, too. But it was only then, watching the earth rabbits sing and work the mallets beneath the full moon, that Reisen realized that she hated pounding mochi.

But she never forgot the rhythm. It summed up life on the moon well—endless work and pressure, never changing.

The beat fled from wakefulness as Reisen stirred from her dreamless slumber. Above was a dark expanse. The ceiling of her room in Myouren Temple, she thought, until she realized it was too wide and the chamber was too drafty. Her eyes turned, and she spotted winter’s thin morning light streaming in from a place afar. She attempted to sit up, but something heavy was wrapped around her.

It wasn’t really a red and white blanket— it was just a small pair of arms, and they remained fast around Reisen’s shoulders as she forced herself up. Her entire body ached, and there was also the entire weight of another body clinging to her.

“S-so cold,” said Clownpiece, her voice tiny even right by Reisen’s ears. It was a little less charming when she loudly sneezed and tried to use Reisen’s long hair as a tissue.

Reisen wriggled. “Hey! Get off of me!”

“No… I’m freezing. I’m gonna f-freeze to death. I’m sorry, Lady Hecatia, you were r-right. I d-don’t want to play in Teeth-Chattering Hell anymore.”

Reisen found the strength to shake Clownpiece off just before several more sneezes fired. She certainly felt cold herself, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been overnight. As for the fairy, though she groaned and rolled about on the floor, there was still enough color in her face that Reisen figured she was fine. At least this way, neither ended up sleeping in the futon filled with gravel.

The lecture hall was wide and almost entirely empty. Not far from their spot on the floor, a food tray was placed with several covered bowls. It seemed too many for the both of them, but the explanation was up on the raised platform. Reisen turned and once again started, this time actually voicing her surprise.

“Huh? Where’d that come from?”

Byakuren was gone from the stage, but Kyouko was still there, cross-legged and eyes tightly shut. She wasn’t precisely as she’d been before—atop her blue head of hair was a white lotus, like a flower risen from a deep place in a tiny pond. Kyouko was silent and stern, like one of the rocks in the garden, with only the twitching of her nose signaling that she wasn’t a statue. Or dead.

Reisen gratefully drank down the hot miso soup and called for the others to join her.. Clownpiece crawled up, her behavior now simply melodramatic, but Kyouko remained in place. The previous night seemed so long ago—it was a gap in Reisen’s mind, but somehow more wholesome, like a forgotten dream. It looked as though Kyouko had experienced every second of the recital herself, and it was still going.

A gentle voice was carried in, seeming more like on the light than on the wind. “Namusan. Good morning, you two.”

“Miss Byakuren!” Reisen stiffened and rose to greet the head monk with a bow, and received one in turn.

“You needn’t worry or explain,” said Byakuren. “The others have told me much, and most of it I guessed during my sutras. I hope you enjoyed the recital.”

“Yes, it was…” Reisen chewed her lip. “TO be honest, I don’t know. It was fascinating, but I feel like I should feel more than just sore all over. I’m sorry for all the trouble we caused.“

“I’m sorry too,” said Clownpiece. “I heard the sutra things and thought it was super nice, so I went to get you a bigger audience. I thought everyone was supposed to be able to be enlightninged and stuff.”

Reisen looked at Clownpiece and was surprised to see as much humility and sincerity as she did. A little alcohol and the influence of phantoms might have played a part too, but in a fairy’s childish way it seemed like the whole incident really did sprout from something so simple.

“I shouldn’t have left her alone,” said Reisen. “We haven’t been very good guests.”

Byakuren simply smiled, and that communicated forgiveness enough. This was one woman who actually seemed as one with the universe, and it was more than a little humbling to be around her. The fact that she wasn’t upset only strengthened that effect.

“You came seeking food and accommodations,” said Byakuren, “and I hope that, for what little it was, you found Myouren Temple suitable. We would be glad to host you any time—though I do expect better behavior. I also understand, Miss Reisen, that you were seeking insight on certain flowers.”

“Right, but I don’t remember actually telling anyone about that,” said Reisen. “I guess the fact that you know doesn’t really surprise me, though.”

“I don’t claim to be all-knowing,” said Byakuren, “but even with Kyouko amplifying sound upon me for the later hours I did my best to listen to the world. And I did hear some interesting things in time. I suspect it was from this lotus, in fact.”

Byakuren glided to the raised platform and gently lifted the lotus from Kyouko’s head. Immediately the small youkais’ eyes cracked open, and with a wobble her power was released. The lecture hall shook with a clear wave of incomprehensible sound, though it somehow wasn’t jarring to the ear.

Kyouko flopped onto her back. “Ow… is the recital over?”

“It ended some hours ago,” said Byakuren. “You’ve been listening to this lotus since then.”

Reisen approached, and Byakuren placed the flower into her hands. All eight of its petals were blindingly white, and from its core there came a low murmur, words imperceptible but speaking to the rhythm of a silent drum.

“Kyouko caught some gravel in her hair last night, I think,” said Byakuren, “and there just so happened to be a lotus seed in there. With sutras reflected into it for so long, it seems it’s taken so well to them that it chants even now. It’s an auspicious occasion.”

“Well, here’s the third one,” said Reisen. “But it just got created before us, out of thin air. I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“Such a thing can only be fate—that’s what you’re thinking, I’m sure,” said Byakuren. “Do you find that troubling?”

“A little, for some reason.” Reisen shook her head. “Either way, this is what I needed. Thank you. Can’t I repay you somehow?”

“Curing the disease will be enough. The graveyard was also becoming quite crowded with phantoms, and I think more of a few of them experienced enlightenment last night as well. Thank you for that, Clownpiece.”

“Oh! Yes,” said Clownpiece. “It’s a good thing, right?”

“Naturally. One more thing, Reisen,” said Byakuren. “You came for insight as well, and I think I know where you can find another flower. Search for gold in the Human Village.“

Reisen’s eyes lifted from the lotus. “Did this or the world or whatever whisper that to you, too?”

“Just intuition. Byakuren smiled and turned to Kyouko. “Now, Kyouko.””

“Y-yes? Is it breakfast yet?” Kyouko lifted into a sitting position and sneezed, rubbing her bleary eyes. “I’m so… I’m s-so tired. I, uh, can explain…”

“You listened to more than half the recital and then some,” said Byakuren. “Since you’ve done that much, I’ll have you study the part you missed in the records hall. Your friend Mystia is invited too, of course.”

Kyouko put her hands to her face. “Um, of course… I’m sorry. I need to sweep the stairs, and…”

Byakuren only laughed. “I didn’t say you had to do it now. In fact, for today, your duty shall be to get some rest after you see our guests here off. That will be all.”

“Yes, Hijiri.”

Though she hadn’t participated in the battle yesterday, sitting up concentrating for the entire night left Kyouko worse than the rest of them combined. She stood and had her soup standing. Then, with a zombie-like gait, she headed outside. Giving their final thanks and farewells, Reisen and Clownpiece followed Kyouko on a clockwise course around the rock. A very, very slow course.

The sun felt warmer than usual, and the garden was fixed up rather well. Like on any other day, the sea of gravel below folded and flowed differently, and all was quiet save for the muttering lotus in Reisen’s hands. The three almost didn’t notice as Ichirin fell into step at their sides.

“I’ve fetched your things from downstairs,” said Ichirin after the contemplative part of the stroll was seemingly over with. “A medicine bag and box of flowers for the rabbit, and for the fairy, one hat and this dangerous thing Unzan found on the pagoda roof.

Clownpiece was very sheepish as she put on her hat and took the unlit torch. To everyone’s relief, it didn’t light back up, and she never again would have it that way in Myouren Temple. With or without being able to hear Byakuren’s sutras, as a fairy, Clownpiece probably didn’t get that much out of the whole experience except for a newfound fear and respect for buddhists. Which, Reisen thought, seemed good enough.

“Please visit again soon!” Kyouko shouted from the top of the steps. “And come see Choujuu Gigaku at our concert next week! Um, if Hijiri lets us go, I mean!”

“Let’s do a collaboration concert!” Clownpiece shouted back.

Reisen simply waved, trying not to think about such a performance. As for the one she’d just been to, she still wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. She listened to the low drone of the lotus for a while longer before putting it in with the rest of the flowers.

“Gold in the Human Village,” Reisen said to herself, hardly paying attention to where they were walking. “That’ll make four out of five.”

“Hey, Reisen,” said Clownpiece. “Lotus lady said that a lot of those phantoms were enlightninged, and that’s good. But it also means they’re dead, or they’re not here or something.”

“You’re really stuck on this, huh?” Reisen shrugged. “It’s finding peace. Again, I’m no buddhist, but it isn’t supposed to eb sad. Not like the way we usually see death.”

Clownpiece nodded, frowning. Reisen herself was walking with a knitted brow, making the two look like an even stranger combination than usual.

They were finding the flowers quite neatly. One was created by hand, one by fate right before them. Assuming the higanbana even counted, then they really were on a good pace. Eirin would have her specimens and Reisen wouldn’t have her boiling bathtub. The world was allowing—even willing—her task’s completion. So why wasn’t she more pleased about it? The rhythm continued to thump in the back of her head. A rabbit’s work.

“Reisen!” Clownpiece’s voice was startling. “What’s wrong?”

“What? Oh.” Reisen straightened her neck. “Just navel-gazing.”

Chapter Text

Even one day later, the shift in the tide of season seemed plain to the eye, especially a rested one. Clouds bearing heavy snowfall were being beaten back, and the white blanket upon the world was growing thinner, such that a few flowers, unbidden by any greater power than the sun, pushed their buds to the surface. Provided she hadn’t fallen ill herself, like so many others, the herald of spring would probably be making her rounds within a week. Of course, Reisen already had a lively fairy frolicking in her midst.

“Reisen, I’m hungry!” said Clownpiece. “How do the buddhists get by with just a bowl of soup? When’s second breakfast?”

“This is the fifth time you’ve asked,” said Reisen, “but it looks to me like fifth time’s the charm.”

Despite daylight freely filtering through the trees, the song of the night sparrow rang through the air, accompanied by the trundling of wooden wheels on the uneven road. An unassuming youkai was pulling a large food cart, her head of hair a splash of color like a cherry blossom in early bloom. She waved as she drew near, but her vocal exercise continued a while longer.

“Hey, Mystia,” said Reisen. “Are you open for business right now?”

Mystia’s song went up an octave, trilling pleasantly, though she cracked open an eye in annoyance.

Clownpiece, however, did not take the hint, and joined in with lyrics. “Stops at the affected area and immediately dissolves—”

“Stop that! What kind of lyrics are those?” Mystia huffed. She tried one more note, then it turned into a sigh. “I’m not setting up for lunch hours today, but I’ll be on the road heading to Misty Lake tonight. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea, though.”

“Why’s that?” asked Reisen.

“There’s all these rumors and tension from the humans and even youkai. There’s bad things on the horizon if the Muenzuka isn’t dealt with soon.” Mystia cocked her head. “Eh? Why are ou looking at me like that?”

“Oh, um, nothing,” said Reisen. “And there’s the pressure… Anyways, where were you going? To Myouren Temple?”

Mystia nodded. “That’s right! Me and Kyouko got to get in some practice.”

“You might want to avoid going to the temple for a bit,” said Reisen. “Kyouko’s dead tired and the head monk has a few things to say to you both.”

“Uh oh. It’s about the sake, isn’t it?” said Mystia. “But we were so sneaky…”

“It’s super good stuff, bird lady,” said Clownpeice. “Are you selling any? Show me the goods.”

“Not a chance,” said Reisen. “Mystia, if you have anything you can just give us quick, I’ll take some for the fairy here. Is that alright?”

Mystia and hummed as she dug through a compartment in the cart. She dropped a plate of lamprey on the counter. Jerky, rather than her grilled specialty, though each piece was quite mangled—apparently this was where all the accidents went. A plate was a modest 300 yen, and finding some coins in her hat, Clownpiece was happy to pay for it herself.

“Here!” said Clownpiece. “Six big ones!”

“Great, that’s…” Mystia squinted. For extra certainty, she ran a long fingernail around the edge of each coin, finding them smooth. “Hey, these are 5 yen coins.”

“Whaaat? It has the hole in the middle. Isn’t it the same thing?”

Reisen sighed and pulled out her purse, covering the cost with similar, but larger coins. She helped herself to one while Clownpeice shoved the rest of the plate into her mouth. The texture was firm and the taste quite rich. One could almost taste the mud the lampreys mucked about in—more appealing than it sounded, less when actually thought about.

Mystia ran through the melody of a song as they ate, but she suddenly stopped, leaving only the sound of Clownpeice choking on her food. “Oh! That’s right, ”said Mystia. “I almost forgot, Reisen. I got a message for you through the Grassroots Youkai Network.”

Reisen forced the rest of the jerky down, and spoke with a little difficulty. “Is that so? What is it?”

“Kagerou Imaizumi wanted to meet with you. She said she’ll be at her house, but you need to show up before nightfall.” Mystia thumbed her chin for a bit. “Oh! And if you can’t make it, then go to Misty Lake around midnight.”

“Kagerou, huh? Did she say anything else?”

“That’s all I can remember.” Mystia nodded and turned to Clownpiece with a lovely smile. “Hey, um, if you want something to wash that down, tea’s only 100 yen.”

“We’re fine, actually,” said Reisen above what sounded like a vague cry for sake. “Thanks for passing that message along. See you around.”

They went their separate ways down the road, one direction going with a sweet song and the other with Clownpiece’s muffled chewing.

“Lucky for us, I happened to be heading in that direction anyways,” said Reisen. “Stop trying to talk with your mouth full already, you’re going to choke… Seriously, I can’t understand you at all.”

With a heavy gulp Clownpiece was finally coherent again. “Gold in the Human Village! Isn’t that what lotus lady said? What’s that mean, anyways?”

“We’ll get to the Human Village eventually,” said Reisen. “it’s straightforward but also pretty vague, right? That’s real buddhist-like. Then again, haven’t you noticed that people like Miss Byakuren can be really cryptic? My master’s like that, too. It’s probably because they know how people behave.”

“I don’t get it. Lady Hecatia’s always super straightforward with her instructions..”

“That’s what I’m saying. The instructions are clear, but how much do they actually explain to you about the bigger picture?”

“Hmm. I guess getting me a new playground wasn’t the point of going to the moon, now that i think about it.” Clownpiece nodded and twirled her unlit torch. “It’s okay, though. I trust Lady Hecatia and Miss Junko. I don’t need to know about bigger pictures because i can just draw them.”

“You all sure have a carefree relationship.”

Clownpeice pouted. “No, Lady Hecatia can be strict, too. Once I did the wrong thing and she punished me, saying I can’t go back home to Hell. Except on special occasions.”

“So doesn’t that just mean you can go back whenever you want? I thought you were living here already.”

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t really want to go back to hell, anyways. It’s way more fun up here.”

“So you got a slap on the wrist.”

“What’s it like for you, Reisen?”

Reisen frowned and had to think about what “it” actually meant. Eirin taught her much, perhaps not as much as she taught the Watatsukis, but it wasn’t as though Reisen was on that level regardless. Eientei contained a runaway princess, a genius sage, and Reisen, a mere rabbit soldier—but they were deserters all, making them a family and their house a home. For all the work she had to do, she did like the arrangement.

“Eirin’s a good master,” said Reisen, “and I trust her, too. She’s a lot more strict with me, but she always knows best. Whenever I get punished I deserve it, one way or another.”

Clownpiece looked genuinely surprised. “Really? That sounds kinda pathetic.”

For her part, Reisen returned a similar look of surprise, though it was mixed with irritation. Certainly being a child had something to do with Clownpiece’s treatment, but it hadn’t been the same for Reisen. Reisen was born into servitude—all moon rabbits were, and as the favorite of the Watatsuki sisters, she’d been held to an especially high standard. She knew well a life of rigorous training, education, and discipline. In a sense her life wasn’t so different now, but the view from the earth brought with it a better appreciation for simple things, like rest and time spent among friends. She just had to cherish what time she had for them.

“I like my life here as an earth rabbit,” said Reisen, nodding to herself. “I’m not treated quite the same as the normal ones, but I think that’s okay. Still, Clownpiece. Sometimes I wish I could be that laid-back, or have a master as easygoing as Hecatia seems to be.”

“Nice try! You can’t replace me. You may have bunny ears, but I’m still cuter.” As if to emphasize the point, Clownpiece fluttered her gossamer wings and bounced, making the pom-poms on her hat bob along with her infectious smile. Though it was perhaps a bit smug.

“Sure, sure,” said Reisen.

Clownpiece tugged Reisen’s sleeve. “Hey, why don’t you just wish to not have a master?”

Reisen regarded Clownpiece with confusion more than anything else. Why would she wish for that? Reisen’s lavender locks occasionally went grey as she brooded over her self-diagnosed flaws, her ego among them, and even then she knew she’d never make it far on her own. And besides, getting praised by Eirin was very rewarding.

“Oh yeah,” said Clownpiece. “Where are we going, again? Aren’t we going to follow lotus lady’s mysterious mystical advice?”

“We are, but I need to stop by the bamboo forest for something first. Kagerou wants to meet, in fact.”

“But that’s so faaar!”

On the scale of the outside world, Gensokyo was rather small, though it was at least larger than the Far Side of the Moon, and much more beautiful than it—prettier than Hell as well, for that matter. The sun climbed as they made a leisurely pace towards the bamboo forest, and Clownpiece’s impatience was tamed by the simple beauty of the natural world. She was unendingly happy to splash in puddles, breathe in a sudden wind, and marvel at the pale greenery beginning to emerge.

Reisen smiled. She’d been similar, once. The moon was free of impurity, and thus there was no fear of the finite. The flowers never wilted, the sake always flowed, and rabbits always had their duties. Earth’s impurity came with passing seasons, and thus passing life. Now that she looked up at the moon rather than down from it, Reisen thought more of days to come than she longed for the unending ones above. The other rabbits didn’t know what they were missing.

Reisen sneezed, and she saw a wet clump of snow fall from a branch onto a withered bud that didn’t quite make it to spring. Impurity still had its drawbacks, but it wasn’t the infinitely horrible punishment the Lunarians thought of it as. Though perhaps those prone to death had to think of it that way.

Somewhere in the trees a bird sang, and a rock kicked on the road disturbed some small rodent darting beneath the gray tussocks. Even in the mid-morning, the tall, dark clusters of bamboo in the distance were a hazy blur, as if the place despised the sun. Even Clownpiece was a bit apprehensive to enter, especially as she was forbidden from using her torch. Reisen knew every path well, though, the one to Eientei most of all.

But that wasn’t where they were going. Nearly all reference of time was a foe to the Bamboo Forest of the Lost, and even a direct route seemed to wander for ages. Clownpiece’s complaining picked back up, and didn’t cease for some unknown interval. She almost missed the house choked by bamboo until Reisen pointed it out, and was appropriately disappointed that it wasn’t the princess’s lavish mansion.

Reisen knocked on one of the front pillars. “Kagerou! Are you in? It’s me, Reisen.”

No matter what, Kagerou always opened her door in the same way. She’d slide it just a bit, and the first thing the visitor would see was her twitching wolf ears, then the sidelong top of her dark hair, and finally her discerning red eyes. She looked particularly pensive today, and didn’t even right her neck as she slid the door wholly open.

“So you got the message,” said Kagerou. “That’s good. And who’s this fairy?”

“Oh, this is Clownpiece,” said Reisen. ”Clownpiece, this is Kagerou, the local werewolf. Don’t misbehave. Again, we’re guests.”

“What happened? You sound like Miss Junko,” said Clownpiece. “Hi, Miss Doggie! I’m Clownpiece, the local phantom thief idol gangster fairy..”

“Yeah, okay,” said Kagerou. “You can come in. I’m making lunch.”

The main room of Kagerou’s house was a bit cleaner than usual—the workspace was always organized, but with furniture in low demand all of her materials and projects were confined to orderly tables an containers, each being bamboo crafts of her own hand as well. The kitchen area was marked by a raised platform that contained a fire pit, above which a pot of salmon ochazuke was simmering.

Kagerou set a pot of yellow tea beside the fire, threw out some extra cushions and swept over to the pantry. Thanks to a major windfall the previous season, her spice cabinet was especially well-stocked, though apparently she didn’t make much use of it without guests around. Reisen looked from her to the half-played board game left out on the nearby bamboo chest, which Clownpiece occupied herself with. Reisen knew that Kagerou carved the game pieces, and also that she was frequently her own opponent.

“I’ll get to it,” said Kagerou without turning. “Who’s Junko?”

Reisen’s ears stood on end. “Huh? She’s… it’s hard to explain. What’s this about?”

“Miss Junko! Hooray!” Clownpiece triumphantly raised a shogi piece. “I’m the boss of the Clownpeice gang, but she and Lady Hecatia are like the secret higher-ups.”

“I see,” said Kagerou. “So you do know her. Well, yesterday she asked me to pass a message to you: tonight under the full moon, there’s a flower waiting for you by Misty Lake.”

“Tonight? Then… if the fourth one’s in the Human Village, that’d be the last one,” said Reisen. “Didn’t she say anything else?”

“Nope, that was it. The whole thing. We had some small talk otherwise. Some mysterious, deliberate talk about the moon and the flower story that I’m sure this is all related to somehow.”

“Yeah, that sounds right,” said Reisen as she gave Clownpiece a meaningful nudge. “See? I told you they’re all like that. Anyways, why’d you want to meet? I thought it was a bit weird that you called me somewhere under the full moon.“

“Well, now you know it wouldn’t have been me you met there.” Kagerou shrugged as she gave the pot a stir. She sniffed and added an extra pinch of seaweed. “Instinct and curiosity. I just had this feeling that all the little youkai in Gensokyo didn’t need to know that you were going to meet with Junko.”

“But she didn’t say anything about meeting her, did she?”

“She doesn’t have to say it. Tell me you at least picked up on that. I know none of it’s my business, but I just wanted to check in and make sure that this was…” Kagerou waved a hand. “Well, it’s not normal. But I hope it isn’t a terrible thing either.“

“I’m not sure what to make of it, but I don’t think Junko’s my enemy. Not now, at least. Thanks, though.”

Kagerou began to dole out the portions, and Clownpiece immediately dug in, scooping for all the salted salmon first and shoving rice to and around her mouth. She apparently didn’t register that both Reisen and kagerou were watching her closely, but both also shook their heads and dismissed her at the same time.

“This all does have to do with the impossible flowers,” said Reisen. “Long story short, I’ve been sent out to collect the five specimens so we can develop a cure for the Muenzuka. Master said normal ones would’ve done fine too, but so far we’ve actually managed to find some of the weird ones from your story.”

“Not my story. Weird sounds right, though.” Kagerou idly stirred her bowl.. “I guess this means this Junko has everyone’s best interests in mind. Probably.”

Reisen pulled out her specimen case and put it between herself and kagerou, and away from the mess Clownpeice was making. Kagerou nodded at the sunflower and lotus, but did a double take for the third flower stuck to a manju. Her eyes narrowed, but she made no comment.

“Miss Byakuren told us to look for gold in the Human Village, so I’m thinking that’s where the fourth one is,” said Reisen. “That’s actually why I was planning on visiting, even if Mystia hadn’t relayed your message. I’ll need my spare clothes, and if you have anything that fits Clownpiece too, that’d be great.”

“Why do I need new clothes?” asked Clownpiece. “Stars and stripes are always fashionable. And why do you have your own clothes here? That’s weird.”

“I give Kagerou some special invitations and medicines from Eientei,” said Reisen, “and in exchange she lets me use her workshop and keep some of my stuff here.”

“Basically she crawls here when she thinks the doctor wants to cut her open,” said Kagerou, “which is all the time. Somehow I’ve ended up having to stash her extra things for when she doesn’t want to go home. So, on that note. What did you do now? Mess up? Nothing? Something good but you get punished anyways?”

“Nothing happened! I just don’t want to go back to Master until I’ve got everything. If I show up with half of the specimens she might think I’m giving up.”

Kagerou’s tail flicked in a way that seemed equivalent to an eyeroll. “Or… she’ll see that you’re making a rational move by dropping things off for safety, but sure. I guess I could see you getting strung up for anything, though.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” said Reisen as she fidgeted with her necktie. She’d had this nervous tic trained out of her by Yorihime many years ago. She had no idea when it had returned, or that it did in the first place.

Kagerou observed her for a time, but again withheld any remarks. She turned her head and worked on her food, and when she was done she went to the far side of the room without rising, on all fours as gracefully as if she’d shifted forms. She dug through a dusty cabinet and came back on two legs, arms full with clothes that she unceremoniously dumped in front of Reisen.

“This one’s going to be a bit oversized for the fairy, but it’ll do,” said Kagerou as she pulled a white yukata from the pile. “And these are yours, but there’s some wing holes in the back I didn’t get around to sewing. Your bag should cover them up.”

Reisen ran her hand along the plain merchant robes. “Um, when did this happen?”

“Long story. I know other people too, but most of them don’t use my place as a warehouse. Your hat’s on the rack over there, so take it before you head out.” Kagerou scooted back to her cushion and frowned at the corner of the room dedicated to a rabbit’s paranoia. “If you want to get away that badly you can just say it. I’ll charge rent, though.“

Reisen nodded, her lips a firm line. As long as she was going to the village, she made a mental shopping list so she could perhaps drop off gifts instead of more of her own things. Kagerou’s house worked well as a temporary retreat, but it’d hardly make a good residence. The last time Reisen sought refuge she’d gone from the moon to earth, after all. Not that she wanted to “get away.“

“Hey, Kagerou,” said Reisen. “Could you tell us the full story about the impossible flowers? The princess’s been going on and on about it, but I never actually paid much attention.”

Clownpiece perked up, and a mouthful dropped into her bowl. “Ooh, is it story time?”

“Is it? Oh, well. I’m not the best at this, so it’ll be a bit abridged.” Kagerou cleared her throat and began. “There’s a small, lonely girl who’s sick, but because she thinks nobody loves her, she decides to go out and pick flowers for her own grave.”

Kagerou’s sharp fingernails pointed at each of the flowers in the open case. “The first is the sunflower, which reflects her face, and she sees how lifeless she is in this lively world, so she closes her eyes. The second is a higanbana with both the leaves and flowers in bloom, an impossible meeting of the lovers Manju and Saka, and in jealousy she closes her heart. The third is a lotus whispering encouragement, but she closes her ears. The fourth—

“I don’t get it,” said Clownpiece. “If she closed her eyes first, how did she find all these other flowers?”

“It’s symbolic. Or it happens after she gets them all, I don’t know.” Kagerou crossed her arms and sighed. “Anyways, the fourth is an alpine flower, the edelweiss, which fell from the mountains all the way to the darkness of Hell. Though white and pure, it smells of decay and fire.”

Clownpiece now interjected with a raised hand. “Miss Doggie! How’d she get to Hell?”

“She got there because the girl is a nice Hell fairy,” said Reisen, “and she got to come and go as she wished to find pretty flowers. Because her master said it’s a special occasion and because she’s a good girl who doesn’t interrupt people.”

Kagerou nodded. “Yeah, that. Okay, so it reminds her of her impending doom, and in order to not cry or utter her last words just yet, she closes her mouth. The final flower she sees below Heaven, up on the mountain all alone, and when she finally reaches the komakusa she is reminded again of who she thinks she is. She thinks to close her life right there, but the flower’s foreign beauty strikes her. It’s alone, but trying so hard to bloom, glowing in the moonlight. She looks upon her five impossible flowers, and each brings back what she thought she threw away. Instead of climbing further to Heaven, or accepting a fall to Hell, she returns home. She finds herself happy, healthy, and welcome. The girl lives a long, good life with her family. Hooray. The end.”

Kagerou concluded with a long sip of her tea. This reminded Reisen to finish her own, and the ochazuke as well. Clownpiece, empty on both, simply applauded for the next minute or so. For what it was worth, Kagerou’s tail was swishing.

“The premise is a bit darker than I thought,” said Reisen. “Maybe Master took interest because the girl goes from sick to healthy? Either way, we’ve actually been finding the flowers in the same order. Although apparently the next one’s in the village, not in Hell.”

“It is what it is,” said Kagerou. “I guess you’re sort of following the beats in broad strokes, but the flowers being real is what matters.”

“I wonder…” Reisen lifted an empty spoonful to her mouth. “What if this is all planned out, somehow? There are people out there who can manipulate fate, or so they say. And there’s even someone on the moon who can reverse any situation by speaking of it. One of the flowers apparently came around some months ago, but the others we essentially created. It’s too uncanny to be a coincidence.”

Kagerou stretched out her legs and began to lounge with her elbows on the pile of clothes. “Okay, but what does it matter if it’s some big cosmic fate thing? You still get the flowers and go home and the doctor makes her cure, right?”

“I guess it… doesn’t matter?” said Reisen. “What do you think, Clownpiece?”

The fairy looked up from shuffling pieces on the shogi board. “I think, um… everything’s going to plan! Kyahahaha!”

Tea refills were poured out, and the three sat quietly with their drinks. The wind rustled outside, the fire crackled, and each listener thought of their own interpretations of the whisperings from the lotus laid in the center.

Once the dishes were cleaned away, Reisen and Clownpeice got into their respective human disguises. With her medicine bag, simple robes and rabbit ears beneath a wide bamboo hat, Reisen was in her typical look for peddling wares among humans. With tightly tucked wings and her hat and torch stowed in Reisen’s bag, Clownpiece passed convincingly for a child. However, only a little excitement was probably all it’d take for her wings to pop out.

“Well, you two sure are… a pair,” said Kagerou. “Don’t get up to any funny business in the village. So, are you going to meet with that woman at the lake?”

“Since I’m with Clownpiece, I don’t think I have much of a choice,” said Reisen, “and if she has one of the flowers then I’m going to need it anyways.”

“Uh-huh. If you see Wakasagihime, say hi for me. Remind her there’s book club next week. See you later, Reisen. When the full moon’s gone, preferably. If the doctor tries roasting you tonight, tough luck.”

“Haha. Oh, come on,” said Reisen, hand clasping near her tie. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for mermaids. Thanks for everything, Kagerou.”

“Thank you, Miss Doggie,” said Clownpiece. “I’ll see you later, too. You can be in the Clownpiece gang.”

The urge was in Clownpiece’s eyes the entire time, but somehow the two guests left without Kagerou getting petted. It was a long walk to the forest’s edge, and an even longer one to the village. If identified only by their appearance, the two travelers were easy targets to waylay by a youkai even in daylight, or at least be the subject of a fairy’s prank. But the roads remained desolate save for the common wildlife, and even the village appeared small and abandoned when it was finally in view.

“Remember not to get into any trouble, Clownpiece,” said Reisen, frowning as the fairy put a hand to her heart. “No, don’t do that again. Seriously, just promise. Stick by me and be a good girl. If anyone asks, you’re my niece.”

“I’ll be a good niece,” said Clownpiece. “What’s my name gonna be?”

“Usagi.”

“What? Reisen, you’re not creative at all. Then who are you?”

Reisen paused. “I’m Reisen Udongein Inaba. I’m an earth rabbit and Eirin Yagokoro’s apprentice.”

“What? Reisen, you’re not funny at all.”

“I guess not. I’m just Reisen, and I just sell medicine.”

It’d been a long time since “Reisen” had been her only name. She sighed and looked wistfully at the afternoon sky. A retinue of clouds had drifted in, casting a moody light and the vaguest shadows throughout the outer farmsteads, while the village proper was a quiet congregation of buildings, leaning together as if in collusion to hide a secret. Reisen’s pressed ears twitched just a bit, as much as they could—she imagined that the village was whispering like the lotus did. Whispering of gold.

***

As a nexus for many worlds and societies, some quite secretive, Gensokyo’s economy and the value of money could be fickle. Still, those with wealth, especially in the village, often showed it, although there were a lot of influential figures that had a lot less of it than would be expected.

Despite being in the service of a genuine lunar princess and working with Eirin in the clinic for years, Reisen and Eientei as a whole were not so amazingly prosperous in terms of actual coin. Reisen was about as enticed by the prospect of gold and glorious gems as most would be—provided that those could be melted or traded for practical coinage, anyways. Though she and Clownpiece searched the village high and low, they hadn’t found whatever it was they were looking for. In fact, as the sun was nearly down and putting those gilt hues upon the village, Reisen actually found herself to be a lot poorer than when she started.

“What’re we gonna eat for dinner, Reisen?” The little human girl, as it were, tugged at the tall merchant’s sleeve. “How about curry? Can we have curry?”

“I asked you about dinner earlier, and you said you wanted a treat instead,” said Reisen, shaking the small hand from her. “I just bought you a taiyaki. You mean you’re hungry for dinner now?”

“Of course,” said Clownpiece. “Life’s short. You gotta eat dessert first. Anyways, we’re looking for gold, right? Some curry can be kinda gold, you know. Oh, and Lady Hecatia has some that come as these block thingies from the outside world. You can even just eat them! Like gold nuggets.”

“I really don’t think that’s what Miss Byakuren meant.”

“Then what did she mean?”

“No idea, little Usagi.” Reisen smiled halfheartedly and blew air. “I wish these sage types didn’t leave us to walk backwards into things all the time.”

Throughout the day, the village was strangely lively, not quite the image Mystia had painted of it. Crowds were spread thin in even the most popular commercial streets, but it was remarkable there were as many as there were at all. However, every incidental cough or sneeze seemed to have a palpable edge, and groans echoed deep within tightly-shut houses. Even Keine’s temple school was closed, and the village guardian didn’t come to the door no matter how hard Reisen hammered on the post, denying her the easiest source of information. The somber air and the disappointed faces as Reisen apologized made her regret that she was currently a rather poor medicine seller.

But though it had no medicine, the contents of Reisen’s bag were piling up. Clownpiece had badgered her into buying one snack, and then another, and soon Reisen also saw fit to buy supplies for the clinic, gifts for Kagerou and Myouren Temple, souvenirs for the princess and even just one thing for herself.

It was a cheap bamboo recorder, cousin to one she’d seen halfway finished in Kagerou’s workshop. Only after the impulse buy did Reisen think that she’d have rather bought it from her friend, even if it was a waste of the craftsmanship. Reisen had vague recollections of music lessons from her youth, but with the likes of Choujuu Gigaku, the Prismrivers, or Wakasagihime for musical reference, she decided to not bother and let Clownpiece have it. Which proved to be a mistake.

“Well, that curry wasn’t very golden, but it was priced as if it were,” said Reisen as she frowned into her purse. “Maybe if I could sing half as well as Lady Toyohime, we could get some yen performing on the side here.”

“Or we can just find the gold,” said Clownpiece, “and we could sweep the top shelf at Geidontei!”

“Let’s not do that. I hope Master doesn’t find out about how much I’ve blown through today.”

Watching customers haggle at the stalls and people slipping behind curtains for supper alleviated Reisen’s guilt just a little. With businesses struggling so much in the past months, surely supporting them was a good thing. Despite the surprising crowds, not a one knew about rumors of gold or mythical flowers. Even the florist’s shop had been a disappointment. In order to keep her mind on her goals and not squander her last yen, Reisen swept out of the market districts and returned for another look around the eastern residences, while Clownpiece tooted on the recorder the whole way.

The closer to the heart of the eastern district, the more grandiose the buildings became. If any of the village elites had enough hubris to decorate their high roofs with gold and platinum, it couldn’t be seen beneath the light snow that had passed overnight. The streets here were wide but barren of activity. As she grew frustrated with the search and thought to return to the markets, where so many buildings were open and even more secrets were tucked away, Reisen sensed an unusual wavelength.

Reisen’s red eyes cut across her right, but all she saw was the long, white-washed wall of one of the greater residences. Observing the closest corner watchtower carefully, she drew closer and followed the bend. The walls were separated from the street by a wide pool of smooth rocks, intermittently broken by standing stones and peach trees. The southern posterior walls were defended by thick hedges as well, and through the dark leaves Reisen caught a glimpse of something twinkling in the sunset.

Gold.

“Reisen? What is it?” asked Clownpiece.

“Quiet. We’re going to sneak up on someone here.”

The fairy gave a muted squeal, and from there contained her excitement. At first they pretended to walk by, then doubled back crouching against the hedges. The green stretch made a break for a snowy tree, and from there the two slipped behind another lonesome hedge near to the wall. Reisen was close enough to detect two others’ heartbeats. One rhythm belonged to Clownpeice, the other to someone behind the hedge. Reisen’s hand cut with a military deliberateness, but Clownpiece only understood to leap out when Reisen did so herself.

“Boo!” said Clownpiece, resisting the urge to fan out her wings. “Stick ‘em up, nerd!”

While Clownpiece couldn’t help herself, the other two were stunned. Before them was a short woman whose manner of dress was not suited for stealth at all. Her arms were over adorned with rings and bracelets that glittered gold, one hand clutching tight at a large, showy purse. The other went to her face, lifting a pair of sunglasses up just below her mini top hat. Her drill-like bunches bounced about as she shook her head as if to deny an accusation that was yet to be made.

“I-I just dropped something back here,” said the flashy woman. “What’s your problem?”

“Oh… it’s you.” Reisen leaned towards Clownpiece and lowered her voice. “Usagi. Don’t associate with this person. She might spend a lot of time at Myouren Temple, but she’s a terrible influence.”

“Hey, rude! You don’t have to sound so disappointed. What the hell?” The woman’s hands both went to her hips and she leaned forward, though with her petite frame, she wasn’t very intimidating. “I can hear you, you know! Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

“Joon Yorigami,” said Reisen, already looking like she wanted to leave. “Hello.”

“Wait, I know you,” said Joon. “You can’t fool me, rabbit. What’re you skulking around here for? And who’s this kid? Is she your new guinea pig?”

“Keep it down. I imagine you don’t want your cover blown either, Yorigami,” said Reisen. “This is a fairy friend of mine, Clownpiece. I happened to be passing through when I thought I saw something weird.”

“Hey! I’m not weird,” said Joon.

Joon Yorigami liked to appear bigger than she was, and way larger than her gaudy style was her ego. Despite all appearances, this pestilence god had nearly enough power to match as well. Just her cursed presence might have explained all the reckless spending in the commercial district, and the girl was a known troublemaker by choice. Her twin sister, who carried a curse of utter misfortune, was one by nature. The Hourai Pharmacy didn’t turn away people, but for various reasons, these two were ones they might have liked to.

“Alright, I’ll just ask you,” said Reisen. “What are you doing skulking about here? And please tell me your sister isn’t nearby. Something terrible could happen to my things.”

“Hmph. I told Shion to go beg the shrine maiden for dinner,” said Joon. “I can’t risk having her around for a job like this. Isn’t it obvious what i’m doing? I’m robbing these suckers blind!”

“Well, at least you’re honest there,” said Reisen. “Don’t you usually have a different M.O.? And Is there a reason I shouldn’t stop you right now?”

“Urgh, come on, you jerk,” growled Joon, “these guys can totally take a hit. Don’t you know this house? This is the Hieda residence. They’re crazy wealthy and healthy, all while the poor, stinky, sad loser villagers out here are all sick and crawling about in the mud. I’m doing the world a service.”

Clownpiece was suddenly bouncing with energy. “Ooh! So are you like, a phantom thief? That’s super cool! You even look really fancy.“

“Hehe, now someone gets it,” said Joon, all her being inflating. “that’s right, kid! I’m a righteous thief taking down the rich and heartless. See, the family here and even the servants are all a bunch of misers. Obviously I can’t just fly in and shoot up a bunch of humans, so I gotta do this the slick and stylish way. That’ll leave a bigger impact, anyhow.”

“Isn’t a righteous thief supposed to give the loot to the poor?” asked Reisen. “You’re just going to spend it all on junk for yourself. Also, you know that this is the Maiden of Miare’s house, right? She writes the Gensokyo Chronicle, and if you rob her you’ll get an extra cold article in her next edition.”

“Oho! And that’s my other motivation,” said Joon, “I couldn’t ask for anything better! I got a reputation to maintain, you know. I can’t have people thinking I’ve gone totally soft just because Hijiri dragged me to her temple.”

Joon did at least have a point that the target could take a loss, so Byakuren’s lectures had proven the pestilence god wasn’t a completely lost cause. Still, just as youkai needed to live off human fear, someone like Joon would always be her own sort of plague. If Reisen was both braver and more foolish, in response to this dubious girl she’d throw off her disguise and send Joon packing with lasers at her back. Calling out to alert the Hieda residence’s servants was both easier and safer, though, and a shout was forming on Reisen’s lips.

“Wait! Look, rabbit,” said Joon, “have a heart! Poor Shion caught Muenzuka and she’s been both hungry and sick for a month. She can’t even hug her own sister! And your dumb clinic doesn’t have a cure, and I bet your’e raking in tons of dough from all the patients. I need the cash to take care of Shion. How could you be so cruel?”

“Yeah, Reisen,” said Clownpiece. “That’s so mean. We should be helping her. The big dogs aren’t our friends!”

“First of all, Muenzuka symptoms don’t last a month,” said Reisen, “Second, you were at the clinic two weeks ago trying to pawn junk medicine, not buying real stuff. Third, our proceeds go to research and supplies, and thanks to some aura you put around the markets, my personal funds are near the red. Should I go on?”

“Fine, you’ve forced my hand.” Joon crossed her arms and puffed herself up. “What do you want? Ten percent? One of my gold rings? How about a picture and an autograph?”

Reisen paused. “Wait a minute… gold, huh?”

“Looks like we’re finally reaching common ground,” said Joon. “You got all those crazy illusion powers, right? We’d make a kickass team. Think of it like we’re just taking a tax from this rich lot. It’s for the Muenzuka cure, after all.”

“It’s not that,” said Reisen, “Miss Byakuren said I should look for gold in the Human Village. I wonder if you’re what she meant… Although I’ve heard most of your things are counterfeit.”

“Don’t tell me Hijiri knew I’d be coming out here today… Grr! I got tons of glittery gold crap, so have a look!” Joon proudly opened her purse and shoved it before Reisen. “It’s so sparkly you’ll weep!”

Within the bag there was plenty of, as Joon had put it, crap. A huge feathered fan, five wallets, excess jewelry, and that was only the first pocket. What caught Reisen’s eye did shine, but it wasn’t a product of the dying sunlight. Rather, it had a soft glow of its own.

“That’s the flower!” Reisen almost couldn’t contain herself. “What is it? Where did you get that? Is it an edelweiss? Was it in Hell, or Former Hell?”

“Eh? The flower?” Joon almost didn’t recognize it, but her face was shortly filled with pride once more. “Nah, this is a komakusa, or bleeding heart. See, the Komakusa Palanquin at the False Heaven Shelf gives these out like one-yen coins. They’re supposed to be consolation for if you gamble all your money away, but I got this one yesterday for being such a good patron. A special gift from the owner herself! Cool, right? I think Shou’s ability to attract treasure’s rubbed off on me.“

Even within Joon’s cramped bag, the komakusa seemed noble and poised. Unlike everything else, it yearned for a different sort of light to bolster its own beauty. Its petals, tinged with lavender, turned to the fresh air, and Reisen’s certainty of the flower’s nature went from it being beautiful, to exceptional, to impossible.

“I’m not interested in any gold,” said Reisen, “but I do need that flower.”

Joon zipped the purse shut in Reisen’s face, and looked even more smug than before. “Need it, do you?”

“Could you at least put it in a pouch or something? It’s so delicate, and it’s in there with all your crap…”

“Don’t call my stuff crap! Now, then. You help me rob These Hieda clowns, and I give you the flower. Try anything funny and I’ll eat it. Deal?”

“It’s happening! We’re phantom thieves,” said Clownpiece. “This is so cool!”

Reisen made sure that her sigh was extra obvious, and decided not to tell Joon about the flower’s toxic properties. The other two, however, were in great spirits. At Clownpiece’s prompting, they’d already put their hands together, and the devious triangle needed one more point. On her back, beneath all other things, Reisen felt the weight of the specimen case most, that small vacuum of eternity that was not quite as full as it needed to be.

“This doesn’t have to be a collaborative thing, right?” said Reisen. “I can do a lot with my wave manipulation. If you just tell me what you want, I should be able to slip in on my own and do… whatever.”

“But it’s way more fun if we’re a team, Reisen. We need a cool theme song, too!” Clownpeice raised the recorder to her lips, and Reisen promptly demonstrated her wave manipulation by once again muting the girl until she realized what was happening.

“Sorry, rabbit, I call the shots,” said Joon. “I got the intel and I can tell you don’t have much of an eye for treasure. You get to be my underling for a little bit. Are you in or not?”

“Okay, fine,” Reisen said at length, putting her hand with the others. “It’s a deal.”

Joon began with a low snicker that built into a boisterous laugh. Clownpiece loudly joined in and Reisen simply frowned. Despite, admittedly, all three of them having forgotten to keep their voices down, Reisen sensed only silence from the streets and within the walled garden. Certainly for the worse, they could laugh as dumb and wicked as they wished.

Back on the moon, Reisen had honed her skills for espionage, all-out combat, and survival. Down on earth, where things could actually die, she’d developed herself in medicine, restrained spell card duels and moral character. It was now time for her to use some of those things and bend another, but for Eirin’s sake she steeled herself, if unhappily. The three conspirators lifted their hands, and the full moon rose with them.

“Alright, girls,” said Joon, “let’s strike gold!”

Chapter Text

Outside a grand house's round window, a vast darkness stretched to the edge of the universe, and below was a contained match. The black sky bor innumerable stars, winking and cerulean, but their distant light could hardly reflect in the wine-dark sea. There was but one true point of blue upon the tranquil waters, an impure dot in the lifeless expanse, and in its continual turning it was darker today than it would be for another month. Yet there it was, like a stain that could never be scrubbed.

Something snagged in the princess’s mouth. Surprised, she looked down at the fruit in her hand, but nothing was amiss. What she ate was only the heavenly flesh of the peach, and she surely had merely clipped her tongue. In that brief moment, she considered she may have bitten into the stone, but such a thing was unheard of. Seeds were a symbol of growth and life, and with that came death, and many millennia of cultivation had the lunar peaches adapt to the pure land and bear none. A peach placed deep in the soil would simply become a tree on its own quicker than any reckoning, and it would never wilt. Most importantly, its crop was her eternal favorite.

For Watatsuki no Toyohime, who had plenty of time to muse on such things, the absence of peach stones was largely just a granted convenience. She could snack on fruit all day—if “day” existed on the moon—without a care in the world. But as she felt that phantom cut on her tongue, her eyes went to the far-off reflection of the earth on the Sages’ Sea outside. Her hair was long and fine, pale like the sand of the coast separating her home from the water, and it danced as she turned her head to the door.

“Reisen!” Toyohime called. “Could you bring me more peaches?”

Her voice echoed down the halls, but nobody responded, and she only then remembered that the rabbits were all busy outside. Toyohime traced the perfect circle of the empty bowl with her finger, then flopped forward onto the table. Eventually, she heard footsteps approaching, but when she turned to find a tall woman with purple hair, she saw that it was in a ponytail, the eyes were a soft brown and she bore a sword on the hip of her red dress. No rabbit ears.

“Oh, good timing, Yori,” said Toyohime. “Could you get me some peaches?”

Yorihime sighed. “You were lounging under the kotatsu when I brought the rabbits out for drills, and you’re still here? Sister, you do know that the full moon rises over Gensokyo, correct? All the Lunar Emissaries are to keep a doubled patrol on the passages. Would you at least keep an eye on the sky rather than your bowl?”

“Fine, fine,” said Toyohime with a pout unbefitting of an elder sister, much less a lunar princess, “I think making mochi is a lot more productive than all these drills and patrols, though. It’d be a shame if the earth outdid us there.”

“We’ll still need to be on guard, but you’re free to give the order.”

“No, I’m more in the mood for peaches,” said Toyohime, and for many years that’d always been the case. “I suppose I’ll go out and pick some myself. Honestly, Yorihime. You can channel the powers of gods, but you can’t even pick me some peaches. Isn’t there a god of fruits you could call on?”

“Spare me the jokes,” said Yorihime, finally catching Toyohime’s eyes, if only for a moment. “What’s wrong? Just tell me if there’s anything on your mind.”

“Nothing, really. Just concerned about the full moon tonight as the leader of the Lunar Emissaries ought to be,” said Toyohime, but she dropped her sing-song voice. “Well, no. I mean, yes, but it’s just that I was thinking about Reisen. The old one, not her little successor.”

“I miss her, too. But you know she is in good hands.”

The Reisen that Toyohime called out to earlier was a bright-eyed lunar rabbit, a member of the Lunar Emissaries defending the moon and a dear companion. But she was not the first to bear this name or role, and in her heart, Toyohime called out to the one whose hair grew out long and flowing, whose ears did not flop and whose gaze could not quite be met. The two Reisens were still alike in their inexperience and meekness, but that was only as Toyohime recalled things. By now, the old Reisen had been living with their exiled, but still beloved teacher Eirin Yagokoro for many years. The earth would have made the girl entirely impure, inviting decay, and with it change.

The lunar goddess Sagume Kishin had carefully informed Toyohime that when last seen, the earth-tainted Reisen visited the moon during the reviled Junko’s invasion. It was a crushing defeat for both the Lunar Emissaries and the Lunar Capital as a whole, but the resolution was swift and sudden. The capital buzzed with rumors and conflicting claims, but only Sagume knew the entire truth. Although what she prophesied was always fated to reverse itself, Toyohime knew Sagume to never speak falsely of the past.

“I wish I could’ve seen it for myself, though,” said Toyohime, thoughts coming aloud. “I can hardly believe Reisen came back to the moon and saved us… Even if she’d been trying to save Gensokyo more. It’s such a pitiful place, but… It’s her home now.”

“It’s only fair that she defends it,” said Yorihime. “As we defend ourselves.”

”Do you think Reisen hates us?”

“Hate?, I suppose it’s possible,” said Yorihime, only outwardly unbothered by the thought. “She never was one to let things like that control her, though. I think she left on an impulse. So I hope.”

“Hmm. And I also suppose there’s no reason for her to love us now, either. I wonder if this melancholy will ever leave me.” Toyohime stretched and smiled, as though it were all nothing. “Oh, but how can I ponder such things on an empty stomach?”

The Watatsuki sisters walked through the house together, with Yorihime giving terse updates on the daily affairs. Since everything was the same as ever, nothing beyond nods and brief approvals was called for, and Toyohime simply hummed the whole time. As her song evolved some nonsense lyrics they made it into the garden, where a somewhat irritated Yorihime saluted and took her leave, leaving her sister to her trees laden with delectable fruit.

Across the bridge of the central courtyard was a grove of the finest peach trees on the moon, and not a single fallen leaf or twig. Eirin’s garden wasn’t so colorful a thousand years prior, when she’d exiled herself and left the Lunar Emissaries to her two pupils. Back then the garden was dominated by the morose lunar udonge, whose branches bloomed in jewels as a warning of approaching impurity. For quite a long time Toyohime and Yorihime quibbled about peach trees being both more beautiful and practical, in one sense, and eventually the udonges were replaced and brought to the capital—all save one, dark and frowning in the very heart of the arrangement.

Toyohime’s favorite peach tree—not for a harvest any more delicious than all the rest—was near the center as well, by a short trio of standing stones that formed a convenient stool. Perched on the tallest stone, the princess plucked one of the many ripe fruit and took a bite.

Nectar raced down her chin, but her brow furrowed as she looked upon the hollow of the peach’s core. She glanced back at the udonge and its branches, as cold and clean as the garden’s rocks. Only then did she imagine that sting in her mouth again, and she looked skyward, her gold eyes upon the blue, to that lonesome dot of impurity.

A chilling thought dredged itself from the sea of Toyohime’s mind. It may have been months or even years ago—all she remembered was that it was another day of looking upon this dot, in the private company of Sagume Kishin. A quiet tea party as always, until the goddess spoke.

“I dislike it, what Lord Tsukuyomi and the others are doing,” Sagume had said. “With this plague we plant a seed of discord. Its roots will tear the earthly realms and more than we think.”

When Toyohime asked further, all Sagume did was cover her mouth. In turn, Toyohime had kept her own lips sealed. Such discord was Lunarian agenda, and even if Sagume’s speech might twist their hands backward eventually, it would not prevent the damage they caused. Which, based on their allegiances, was still supposed to be a good thing. But if Sagume of all people spoke against the Muenzuka infection, Toyohime would have no care for it as well.

Toyohime sighed and pressed her back into the peach tree, speaking half to it, half to the barren udonge before her. “I wonder what you’re doing, Reisen. Cleaning up after me again? If only we’d given you worthier things to do.”

***

Outside a grand house’s square window, three dubious figures scampered into an earthy garden bathed in the interplay of twilight and the moon’s pale mirror. The tallest had some sort of blue-purple jester cap, stuffed full with her rabbit ears and long hair. Beneath a pair of sunglasses, her red eyes scanned the surroundings. The middle one had a wide, conical hat of straw over some hastily-undone hair, and she was still bumping into the first woman because she didn’t know how far it extended. The third, a child in a white robe and a black top hat, had to be restrained from drinking from the bamboo water feature.

Joon had gathered some intel but not much of a plan for their heist, though she was happy to claim Clownpiece’s idea for disguises and codenames as her own. Working only with what they had, the three looked quite stupid, but Joon—or “Princess”—couldn’t be deterred by anything. Her ability to influence others into being as wasteful with money as she was had already been used to partially empty the Hieda residence, though it was notoriously overstaffed.

Next up was Reisen. Her ears detected waves of all kinds, even when scrunched up, and her eyes could manipulate them as she saw fit, mostly. She could scramble brain waves by holding a gaze, or bend light and sound. This perfect spy was codenamed “Bunny” by their third member, and said bunny had to point out that this wasn’t very creative.

It did, apparently, combo well with Clownpiece’s identity as the eminent master thief “U.S. Raffles.” Previous experience had already taught her to never use her torch of insanity in the Human Village, which could suffer robberies only as long as youkai weren’t obviously destroying the peace in Gensokyo’s safe zone. This more or less left the Hell fairy as an ordinary, but very enthusiastic girl

All things considered, Joon wasn’t a fool. She’d picked tonight for her heist because the Hieda family was out on invitation to attend a town hall meeting. Thanks to the issues of the muenzuka and Keine’s presence, it was practically guaranteed to be extremely drawn-out and dull.

“It’s a golden opportunity,” Joon excitedly whispered for perhaps the tenth time. She carefully shut the backyard gate behind them. It looked perfectly normal aside from the lock that Reisen had strained to melt with controlled eye beams, all while her cohorts debated on how best to blow it up.

“Careful,” said Clownpiece as she halted the others, speaking with obvious practice. “The gardens’ a natural trap! Gravel makes a sound and grass tells a tale. Oh, and there’s, um , snow.”

“We couldn’t fly over the walls since that’s obvious,” said Reisen, “but we could just—”

“Let’s fly over the garden to the back door, real low to the ground,” said Joon.

Clownpiece nodded. “Good thinking, Princess!”

Reisen kept her mouth shut and followed the others, drifting just an inch above the bare vegetable garden. She’d been talked far too easily into going along with this mess. Joon’s pride was fat enough that getting her to bet the komakusa would probably have been doable, and even if not, Reisen simply could’ve tried to take it by force. Perhaps unethical, even if it was Joon, but what they were doing now wasn’t any better.

Still, she’d already picked a path and it lead to the Muenzuka’s cure, hopefully. It wasn’t very smart to put herself under Joon’s command, but Reisen did always carry out orders. Though she still wish she could’ve gone on her own, since her companions were far too erratic for her to cloak.

“Hey, doesn’t the house look kinda weird?” said Clownpiece. “It looked way taller from outside the walls.”

“It’s an illusion,” said Reisen. “The center’s built in a dug-out area so the number of floors and where they are seem off. It’s to disorient invaders. Like us.”

“Wow, that’s so cool,” said Clownpiece. “Lady Hecatia has to try that for her next renovation.”

“I knew that too,” said Joon.

The Hieda residence wasn’t the tallest building in the world, but with an apparent three-story tower it was quite excessive for Gensokyo. The castle keep, as it were, was ringed by another square of walls that likely contained most of the house’s rooms. The three charted a careful course to the porch, taking all the cover possible, perhaps without cause.

“Alright, the treasure has to be at the top, right?” whispered Clownpiece. “I’ll use my fairy wings to fly up there. Then, as I work the window, tap twice with your foot if someone’s coming. Or something.”

“We can all fly, you know,” said Reisen. “But I’m unsure about just going up there. What are we even looking for, Yori—I mean, Princess?”

“Tons of money, duh,” said Joon, adjusting her hat, “just leave it to me when we’re inside, okay? I have a sixth sense for loot.”

“If you say so,” said Reisen.

“Also! These guys hire magicians and those holy types to put tons of wards and spell runes everywhere. I bet you the windows are booby trapped against fairies and youkai.”

“Great,” said Reisen. “Lucky we didn’t already explode, then.”

Joon took the lead and hopped onto the porch. Fussing again with the hat and silently cursing, she approached the sliding door and put an ear to the wall and the others did the same. With her ears and forehead flattened to the wood grain, the extent of their trespass fully hit Reisen. She winced as Joon slid open the door, and the three slipped inside.

“Oh yeah,” said Clownpiece. “We’re supposed to take off our shoes to be really sneaky. Here you go, Bunny.”

“Don’t mess these up,” said Joon as she shoved her shoes in Reisen’s face. “They’re designer brand, you know.”

“But we can…” Reisen swallowed a groan and accepted the burdens. “I really should’ve just done this on my own.”

The door opened into a cross-shaped hallway, either side taking them down the south wing and forwards sloping into a small sitting room with another large door. Joon lead the way towards it and cracked the door open, revealing the house’s interior garden. It was more deliberately designed than the one in Myouren Temple, but no less beautiful. A roofed walkway lead down into the depressed garden, revealing that the building wings were actually two stories tall, and the tower four. In addition, the tower was attached to the north and east sections of the surrounding building.

“Ooh, so it really is four stories,” said Joon. “Here’s the deal. I put on the charms and got a drunk servant talking about the place the other day. South and west wings are mainly food stores and stinky servant quarters, so we don’t have to bother with them.”

“Princess,” Reisen whispered urgently, “there’s people moving down there. We shouldn’t head in this way.”

Joon closed the door, and with a strange, unspoken coordination, Reisen automatically moved back to the intersection to keep watch while Clownpiece pressed her ear to the door. This prompted Joon to whisper more of her plan in a louder voice than necessary, but for the moment they were still in the clear.

“here’s the thing,” said Joon, “the second floor is just the family’s personal quarters and crap. The top floor’s too obvious and the bottom’s too easy. Or, the other way around, I dunno. Either way, this means the third floor’s gotta be the real treasury.“

“Do we know that they have a treasury?” asked Reisen.

“Of course, you dummy Bunny,” said Joon. “These guys are loaded, and they gotta keep their cash somewhere. I can feel all those poor bank notes calling out to be spent.”

“Well, you sound confident enough to me,” said Reisen, eyes still darting between each of the halls. “So how do we get in there?”

“I got that figured out too,” said Joon, more than a little proud of herself. “The servants should be done with most of their chores by now, so they’ll either be in their quarters in the west or preparing dinner for the Hiedas in the kitchen. There’s people in the garden, so we should just creep up through the east wing real quiet-like.“

They flitted like shadows down the empty eastward hall, where every closed door was almost more threatening than an open one. Reisen kept to the back and watched each with suspicion until they finally came to the corner. Halting them with a vague hand signal, Joon clung to the wall and peered out.

“See anything, Princess?” asked Clownpiece.

“Lanterns are lit at the far end… which is where it extends out to the tower,” Joon grumbled as she pulled back. “That’s annoying. Maybe we should split up.“

“I dunno,” said Clownpiece. “When they split up that’s when they always die and stuff.”

Joon tapped her chin. “Okay. Bunny, take point. Use your wacky rabbit ears and sense them out. Sorry, but you’ll be the first to spring any traps.”

“It doesn’t… Why would there be…” Reisen huffed. She wasn’t quite feeling the complete obedience from her Lunar Emissary days, but at least her next words seemed familiar enough. “Yes, Princess.”

Stopping intermittently and straining with her eyes and ears, Reisen lead the party down the east wing. She didn’t doubt the house’s general fortifications, but there didn’t seem to be anything in the way of anti-youkai traps or even magic sentries. She didn’t lower her guard, since that may have been the point, but it could’ve all been bluster as well.

Midway through they passed a stairway leading to the lower floors, and as they drew further north the air mingled with light and a delicious aroma. Joon had been correct on the servants being in the kitchen, but unfortunately she didn’t know that said kitchen was right in their path. It was too noisy to miss any human activity, at least.

They were currently in the southeast corner of a square, and the tower was at the southwest corner. The path between went through a dimly-lit pantry room and then the bright kitchens, all separated by artful curtains rather than doors. Reisen scrambled light around her and peeked out, counting about five servants either toiling over the food or carrying the dishes to the northwest. She drew back to report her findings.

“I got it,” said Clownpiece. “It’s time to use our thieving tools. Bunny, throw your talking lotus to distract them, and we’ll slip by like cats.”

“Sorry, but I’d throw you sooner than I’d throw one of the flowers,” said Reisen.

“Good idea,” said Clownpiece, “we can send a distraction. Let’s split up.”

Reisen rubbed her temples. “I thought we weren’t doing that.”

“Maybe we should try downstairs?” Joon chewed on her lip. “But there should be people down there, too. And the architecture’s such a mess, the tower might not even connect from the bottom.”

As the other two huddled close to whisper their ideas, Reisen remained on post beside the doorway. The servants worked diligently, though not entirely without complaint, even though those with time to do so hardly had the worst of it. Two of the lot cried out in a frantic rhythm that made their task obvious. Reisen leaned out once again, her heart thrumming to the beat of the wooden mallet.

The humans were rather skilled with the mochi, she thought—not as good as rabbits, who on full moon nights tended to laugh or sing to their incredible beat. And yet there was still an honest playfulness to their task—an occasional smile between the yells, claps of encouragement, a joke passed among the rest. This wasn’t work so mochas an enjoyable lunar tradition.

Reisen recalled herself with a maddened face as she worked the mallet at Yorihime’s breakneck pace, leaving the song and dance to Toyohime. And when it came to housekeeping, with other rabbits of any kind being so carefree, Reisen had always been a solo sufferer. She didn’t have it the worst, but as she watched the strangers work she wondered why she’d always been held to such an absurd standard in comparison. Not that she complained, and a few of these people were even doing that.

A voice rang out and the smiles vanished. “Thief! There’s a thief in the house!”

Reisen blinked hard. Her face paled and her head whipped back around, but Joon and Clownpiece were still there, no less dumbfounded. Cries broke out, sounding far but echoing through the halls as though Kyouko was right there with them. It evolved as more voices joined in, shifting from horror to outrage and footsteps began to drum the creaking floorboards.

One servant’s voice came clear through the muddle of cries. “She went downstairs! Hurry!”

The thieves had quite the dilemma. Footsteps were sounding from where they came as well, and they didn’t know what was downstairs. None of them could be held if they applied a little force, but even humans could hold a surprise or two. Worst of all would be dying unexpectedly easily, and no youkai wanted to risk that while in the village.

Reisen frowned as she watched the overabundance of rings on Joon’s hand bunch up. Joon stepped towards the kitchen doorway, and instead of slugging the first servant out of the room, she dashed straight past. Reisen, too frazzled to drop any illusions, followed with Clownpiece at her back.

The northeast corner of the house was connected by a large, square room. Featuring several low tables, a kappa-brand kotatsu, hanging scrolls and other memorabilia, it appeared to be where the family would have guests and take tea. Each of the three split off with their own idea of how to hide. Reisen turned into a blind spot for each corridor and became little more than a distortion against the wall. Joon skidded to go down the westward hall, but with a yelp she turned and threw her small frame to the kotatsu, squirming beneath the heavy blanket.

And Clownpiece stopped in the middle of the room, watching two servants come from the south and three from the west. One had the wooden mallet, of course, but others brought kitchen knives, sealing talismans, a cup of salt, whatever could potentially be construed as a supernatural being’s bane. Clownpiece looked enough like a normal child that she had some time, and used it to employ one of her thieving tools.

With all her breath Clownpiece sounded a loud, unpleasant trill on the bamboo recorder, instantly stealing the words from one man’s mouth and stopping another’s footsteps. There was a pause, and then again Clownpiece blew an even sharper note, walking slowly towards the southward hall. Instinctively fearing some youkai magic, or else just finding the situation too strange, the man and woman standing there shifted just a bit to either side.

“Um, uh…” Clownpiece, for lack of a prepared line, simply took a deep breath. And then she ran down the south hall, sounding an awful din the whole way.

As if a spell was broken, the entire group of humans gave chase, shouting and cursing. As the noise faded, Reisen pulled herself from the wall and Joon crawled out from the kotatsu.

“Good job, U.S. Raffles,” whispered Joon. She saluted.

“This is the best opportunity we’re going to have,” said Reisen, “let’s hurry and get to the tower. We have to get out of here before things get too complicated.”

The remaining thieves went west and sought to turn left, and the space opened up. The Hiedas’ great hall was a massive open chamber, with bright lanterns and great murals upon every wall. Far to the right was the house’s main entrance room, and all the way left was a passage that split towards the kitchen and the tower stairwell. There was a set of tables prepared for dinner, lonely in the center, but it seemed that the room could be used for a great many things simply by bringing in furniture and folding screens. As they gawked, something even more impressive appeared.

It was a dot of darkness on the floor, It started beneath one of the tables and snaked around to an open spot. In a split-second it expanded and a hole in the floor came into being, a few paces across, and through it a woman floated up and one cushion fell down. Then, the floor restored itself without so much as a seam in the tatami.

She had her hair done up in a strange loop and was twirling a pipe in one hand, while her other slung a large bag over her shoulder. She was all blue in styling, and her white shawl drifted like a cloud as she leaned over the tables and popped a mochi into her mouth.

Then she turned, evidently because some noise fell out of Reisen’s mouth. “Oh, excuse me,” she said. “Life is so dreadfully short, you know? Eat dessert first, I always say.“

The mystery woman winked as she wrapped up the treats in cloth and shoved the bundle into her bag. With a wave she flew swiftly towards the west wall and pressed her pipe to it. The murals’ rising moon became a void, then itself once more. There went Gensokyo’s phantom thief, and any closure for the imitators was, like the plate of mochi, off the table.

Joon and Reisen were flabbergasted.

“She… She went through the wall!” Joon cried. “How come I can’t do that? How come you can’t do that?”

“Well, I… Let’s just hurry upstairs,” said Reisen.

They dashed past the kitchen and into a tower beyond a set of heavy doors covered in a distressing amount of runes and talismans. Fate or fortune had left them open—the servant tidying the rooms had been in quite the rush when someone phased past him and through the floor. Right up stairs was the third floor, and upon emerging into a library, Joon was instantly disappointed.

“What the… it’s just books!” Joon began to rummage about the shelves. “Where’s the gold? The diamonds? Gah… that woman stole it, didn’t she? I can’t believe someone else had the same idea as me! This is why I should stick to scams.”

“Careful,” said Reisen, “most of these texts must be priceless. We can just check upstairs…”

“What’s the deal with ‘priceless,’ anyways? That just means it isn’t worth squat!”

Likely due to the other thief, the large room was already in a bit of disarray before Joon came to beat it down further. Long shelves lined every wall, and a mess of papers and books were upon a table behind two folding screens. One wall had a conspicuously bare nail where a gorgeous painting or scroll likely once hung. There were some fine vases and intricately-carved statuettes, but they mostly held the books up, and there certainly wasn’t anything glittering in the light of the well-contained hearth.

After a few anxious minutes of nosing around with Joon, Reisen ascended to the top floor and was greeted by many glorious rows of filing cabinets. She peeked through one drawer before concluding that the place was as boring as it appeared, as far as shiny things to appease Joon went. A quick pass by the windows confirmed that the narrow glass was inscribed with enough complicated glyphs that she dared not touch them.

The uncomfortable silence was broken by the unmistakably smug laughter of Joon Yorigami. Reisen returned to find the pestilence god crouched by a low drawer, clearly forced open, and madly shoveling its contents into her overstuffed purse.

“Yes! Yes! Come to mommy!” Joon’s face was beaming in a way that was both endearing and pathetic. “Quick, Bunny! I can’t carry it all! I told you, sixth sense!”

Given all the other disturbed drawers, shelves and cabinets, Joon’s sense apparently went wrong a few times. Within the deep drawer, and being worryingly consumed by Joon’s purse, there was the cold, dull cash. Coins were piled up, strung through the holes with each node bearing a hundred coins each. The whip-like coin ropes went into Joon’s overturned hat when the purse was full, and then they went int oReisens’ medicine bag.

“What the—there’s so many,” said Reisen, bent at the knees and grateful for Kagerou’s incredible craftsmanship. “How are we gonna carry them out?”

“Force of will,” Joon barked,. “Put your back into it! We can’t let that kid’s sacrifice go to waste!”

“S-sacrifice?”

Reisen’s fear built as she looked to the stairwell. Noises that weren’t Joon’s heavy breathing were beginning to reach her ears, and she desperately nudged at the girl to hurry up. As soon as half the last string was put on top of her bag, Reisen ran as well as she could, with Joon still attached holding the other end of the rope.

A group of humans met them at the bottom of the stairs, angry, fearful, and clearly confused. Their blue mystery woman had first become a small child, and the next form was a pair of absurd figures coming down from the library.

“Time for my calling card!” said Joon as she dug in her purse. She threw something the same way she’d throw small change at peasants—she did love her credit cards slipped in from the outside world, all expired and useless in Gensokyo either way. These ones didn’t contain any spells, just a signature for who the Hiedas could scream to the heavens about.

The move wasn’t coordinated, but at the same time Reisen lifted her sunglasses. She’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but here the humans were all lined up and staring right back at her. Her eyes pulsed and she let the credit card explode into whatever seemed terrifying—a hail of bullets, the Hieda family in peices, a weird girl with a flute, whatever. Reisen only hoped that none of them would have a seizure.

Also uncoordinated but supported by each other, the two girls began to scream as they dashed off through the kitchen. They composed themselves by the time they reached the back door. The moon shunned the dim strings of coins that crushed their shoulders, but there was one who acknowledged them. The posterior gate cracked open as the pair emerged, and from outside there came the awful woodwind warble. Reunited at last, the three thieves raced out of the village, a cacophonous song of panic and laughter in their wake..

***

The top threat to the Lunar Capital didn’t have much in the way of a base of operations. The Goddess of Hell had her mansion, office buildings, and a refrigerator unit, but nowhere with a clear view of the moon. Not until she made a few investments, anyways, which she pondered as she fiddled with the little world right in her hands.

“This one… here. Yup,” said hecatia. She leaned back into the tree trunk. On the roots to her left was the paper she was referencing, and to her right she had a small cloth with a few mochi laid out on it. She absently reached down to pop another into her mouth, her overbearing power incinerating a few ants with the motion.

Hecatia had three orbs that always trailed each of her three bodies, this blue-haired one with an affinity for the pale orb that she toyed with. She took one more look at her paper and made sure that the seven tiny pins of light were in just the right spots. They disappeared with a snap of her fingers, and with a smile she gave the moon a toss into the darkness as she looked up at the real thing through the boughs.

Junko was watching the same moon as she walked through the forest, and didn’t even look to catch the one speeding towards her. It faintly burned in her hand, tugging her towards Hecatia, who waved as she came upon their unmarked, unremarkable, and unclean spot among the trees.

Junko brushed some nettles from her dress. “Hello, Hecatia. What are you doing?”

“Can’t you see? I’m playing with my balls.” As the moon orb was released and slung back into Hecatia’s orbit, she gave it a backhand and sent it off some other way. “Want some mochi? Peach filling. The Hiedas have some pretty good talent hired.”

“I’m not hungry, thank you.”

“Oh, you’ve just never cared much for desserts.” Hecatia shifted forward to get at her trendy sports bag. She pulled a shimmering clump of cloth from it and tossed it to Junko.

Junko unfolded the torn sleeve and caught the heart-filled business card that fell from it. “Seiga Kaku,” said Junko. “She’s quite capable. A whimsical asset, however.”

“She’s funny. Not the only one I’ve been expecting, either.”

“Clownpiece?”

“Oh, soon enough. I meant another delivery, though.” Hecatia reached for the purple orb that floated nearby and retrieved a flower that had been precariously laid atop it. “That mob that went to Former Hell earlier’s trickling back and I pulled this from my patsy. Didn’t look ‘befouled’ enough, though, so I let it chill on this thing here. Think it works?”

“It’ll do,” said Junko, accepting the edelweiss. “We could’ve simply taken one of these flowers down to modern Hell ourselves instead of gambling on an inter-world invasion, though.”

“Hey, I didn’t set it up or anything. Just a happy opportunity. It’s not my place to screw with Gensokyo-Underworld relations. They caused a pretty big commotion, you know. This whole Muenzuka thing’s gonna have the people here blaming the moon next.”

“Ah, and we can’t have that. Even if it is deserved.”

“No siree.” Hecatia popped another mochi into her mouth, muffling her voice. “It’s already kinda bad that the Hiedas had this lunar sea chart and that scrap of the lunar veil. Probably not by choice, eitehr. We’ll give ‘em the invasion they’re looking for.”

“Are they looking for it, or is it merely fated to be? That this feud should continue for all eternity."

Hecatia swallowed the rest down. “Oh, fate can suck my balls. We’ll do our own thing about it eventually, Junko. One day.“

“Perhaps.”

Junko drew closer and hesitated even as room was made for her. But she didn’t need a hand or an encouraging smile, only time, and soon she turned to sit down beside Hecatia. The impure earth dirtied her clothes, and she stared at the delicate things in her hands.

The torn sleeve had much history to it. Lunar veils allowed one to sacrifice their attachments to the moon or earth to pass between the worlds—useful for a fleeing moon rabbit, for example. This one was sealed in Eientei, then had the sleeve attached to a rocket in one of the previous Genso-Lunar wars. The wreckage was lost in the lunar seas, only for a playing Clownpiece to discover the scrap later, then promptly lose it again. Some invisible hand had moved it to the Hieda household, but Junko’s own willed it to land in her grasp.

The flower was less storied, but it was still a piece in a greater game, one to their benefit. It was beautiful, only foul in the sense that it was so full of impurity. Which meant that its life and eventually wilting would be all the more magnificent—quite the privilege.

Junko’s eyes fluttered as something waved in her face. The last mochi.

“Come on,” said Hecatia. “You barely ate any lamprey.”

“Don’t do that. I’m supposed to eat later.”

“It’s just one thing!”

Junko sighed in defeat. Here was the one person she could truly lose to.

***

Joon lowered and lifted her sunglasses once again. “The… the fifty yen coin is the smaller one, right?”

“I told you, it’s the five,” said Reisen. “They’re all fives.”

“There’s a five right there on the coins,” chirped Mystia as she worked the grill. “And I thought i was bad at numbers. Oh, and the edges of the five are smooth, too. That’s useful.”

Joon sobbed and buried her face into her arms. Prompted by the strangely melodic clearing of a throat, the pestilence god mumbled out an order, emphasizing a big bottle of sake. Then all of a sudden Joon’s head shot back up, her face changed. “It’s okay! It’s fine!” said Joon with a forced smile. “Sure I thought it was almost five million, but a tenth of that’s still great! Hahahahaha!”

Kyouko mimicked the laugh half-heartedly, and that was all the acknowledgement given.

A good way out from the village, on a seldom-used forest path that bent around towards the lake, a red lantern called customers to Mystia Lorelei’s grilled lamprey stand. The night sparrow was known for her voice, her delicious food and drink, and ability to struggle from day-to-day despite all this. She was happy to see customers, but less so as they used her entire counter space to pick through their money. Kyouko was a rather lethargic assistant today, so she for one didn’t mind.

“I was worried I wouldn’t get many customers tonight,” said Mystia. “I told you about the bad energy coming from the village, right? Kyouko says she saw a bunch of humans head towards Youkai Mountain with torches and pitchforks. Have you ever seen humans so brave?“

“There were youkai too,” added Kyouko as she placed Reisen’s tea on the counter. “You’re lucky you missed them. I think they think the tsuchigumo in the Underworld’s the one spreading Muenzuka. I hope they don’t blame us buddhists next. Everyone’s sick of being sick.”

“I hope it’s only that,” said Reisen. She frowned at the newspapers pinned to the post of the food cart. There was indeed an article speculating about the spider, and worse yet, a few words aimlessly throwing suspicion at Higan, Hell, the Netherworld, and even the Lunarians. She’d known the vague rumblings while she was stuck working with patients, but this was the first time it manifested into something this drastic. She had to hurry.

“Well, I can tell you it’s no poverty or pestilence gods’ doing.” Joon pulled down her sunglasses and continued to count out the bank notes she’d found, which now disappointingly accounted for most of their haul.

The three thieves had sorted themselves back into their usual getups when they were far enough from the village. They hadn’t been pursued, though Reisen still thought they were too close for comfort. Both Joon and Clownpiece insisted on celebrating with a late dinner at the first place they saw, though the latter had scampered off somewhere for the little fairy’s room.

Elsewhere, the Hieda family was coming home to an incredibly confusing scene and story. Some of the stolen things were a frustrating loss, while others just seemed odd. Most of the family’s actual money was liquid in the form of agreements between businesses, and otherwise was safely in the vault on the first floor. As for what Joon’s crew stole, the young Hieda no Akyuu was actually delighted that the family’s stash of useless small change had been carried off for them.

“Let’s get like a dozen lamprey plates over here,” said Joon, shoving one of the coin strings over the counter and onto Mystia’s foot. “Tonight we eat like queens! And tomorrow I’m heading back to Komakusa’s to get hammered and multiply this. You should join me, Bunny.”

“Um, what happened to taking care of your sister?” asked Reisen.

“Meh, she can come with me too,” said Joon, “but they usually kick her out. I’m going to bring her some of this lamprey too, okay? Sheesh. Quit grumbling at me about the morals of it all. What’s immoral is that those guys have this much cash stored up.”

Reisen nodded, not quite satisfied, but too exhausted to think more of it. “So, speaking of komakusa…”

Joon sniffed and slapped the flower on the table, a perfect queen descended from the high mountains. It needed to be to survive that, much less all the jostling among Joon’s overstuffed purse. That wasn’t all, though—Joon followed it up with roughly a fifth of the monetary haul, mostly in bills with the coin strings kept for herself.

“Don’t get any ideas. Half of this is for the kid,” said Joon. “She’s pretty good. You did well, too, honestly. Put it towards yourself, not curing the whatever. Live a little!”

Reisen opened her mouth, then thought better and accepted her share. 50,000 yen was a rather good sum, though not a great cut, nor well-earned to begin with. But she, as ever, did as ordered.

No, that wasn’t right. The arrangement was over with and Joon never actually promised more than the flower. Reisen was accepting the stolen money on her own. She wavered, and Joon, sharp as a knife, noticed.

“Money, purse,” said Joon. “Honestly! If you’re worried about the doctor or whoever finding out, there’s an easy solution. Don’t tell ‘em.”

“I can’t keep secrets from Master!”

“Do you tell her your kinks, too? Come on, Bunny. It’s your share. Take it and shut up.”

Finally Reisen accepted the money, and knew that she couldn’t blame it all on Joon in fact being a terrible influence. To drive the point home, Joon pulled another tangle of coins out with one hand and used the other to push a premium plate in front of Reisen. Kyouko echoed the order while Mystia got to work, thinking more about keeping the coins flowing than the difficulty of managing them later.

“There’s plenty to go around,” said Mystia. “Oh! Thanks for all your patronage tonight. I thought that weird couple earlier was all I was gonna get.”

“Whos’ this weird couple?” asked Reisen, half-knowing already. Her suspicions were quickly confirmed.

“There was this one woman with burning tails. Scary sage-like feel to her,” said Mystia. “But the woman with the weird shirt had a huge appetite! I’m glad I still have enough for all of you.”

“Save some for me!” Clownpiece’s voice broke from the trees, and she scampered into the lantern light shortly after. “And sake! Gimme some of that good stuff!”

“You got it,” said Joon. “Hey, bird! Some of your best for this fairy right here!”

Kyouko rubbed her eyes and shrugged apologetically as Reisen shot her a glance. For all her positives, she wasn’t the best buddhist. Reisen declined any for herself, but otherwise didn’t object, and so the liquor flowed.

Once told of her share, Clownpeice stuffed the money into her hat with no qualms. “Cheers!” she said as she raised her cup. “Hey, bird lady. Reisen says you and Kyouko have a band. Can you sing for us?”

“I’d love to,” said Mystia, her mood far brighter than her lantern. “Oh, but we couldn’t get in much practice today and I don’t have my guitar. It depends if Kyouko’s up for it.”

“Actually, Kyouko,” said Reisen, “should you even be here? You look exhausted. I thought you were supposed to be resting.”

“Miss Byakuren tends to be lenient when it comes to promises,” said Mystia. “She already knew Kyouko was planning to help out tonight. After hearing what happened I’m surprised you actually—”

“UNDER TORTURE!” Kyouko bellowed, causing everyone and a few of the trees to lean back. She’d been standing with eyes half-shut and body half-dead until then. She was still a bit twitchy, but otherwise full of life as she pounded on the counter like it was a drum.

“Yeah! Got no sleep, creepers gonna creep!” Kyouko was shouting more than she was singing. “Edge of the night and we’re saying—yeah! Humans in the village! Coming out to pillage! World’s fallin’ down and we’re saying—“

Mystia scrambled to join in on the ad-hoc performance, and soon the both of them were just yelling with vague rhyming somewhere in there. Even Choujuu Gigaku’s rehearsed songs had an underlying theme of the two just screaming out their issues.

Perhaps that was what Reisen enjoyed so much. She couldn’t lift the words from her heart to her throat, but she had half a mind to join in, even to turn and shout directly at the moon. Instead, she looked fondly at those around her, singing, laughing, drinking. This was worth forging herself for.

Reisen treasured this moment of levity. The shadows cast by the moon were growing shorter, and the beams felt like they were beating down upon her head. Soon the mirror of the moon and the mirror of the lake would channel those beams at the absolute shortest distance, and the final flower was waiting for her between.

Chapter Text

A thick mist like an earthbound cloud rolled through the forest, only growing colder as the travelers drew closer to the lake. The bottoms of every tree were choked in the colorless embrace, the darkness only abated by moonlight needling through the trees and the crackling hellfire of a parading torch. Reisen walked alongside it, watching the irregularity of its motion.

Clownpiece wasn’t drunk, or at least not nearly as bad as she’d been the previous night, and that was but a single cup compared to the generous helpings Joon had provided. The princess of thieves, as she might’ve liked to be called, had seen them off by flopping her head onto the counter, and to Mystia’s dismay probably wouldn’t be lifting it for some time. One difference was that there was no army of phantoms about to influence her, just a scant few that intermittently followed and fell from the light, like rolling leaves.

But Clownpiece’s step was also filled with some excited purpose. “It’s the flowers,” she said to some marching rhythm, “gonna find the flowers, woo! Gonna find Miss Junko, yay! Enlightning… I mean, enlightenment!”

And with that word her mood faltered, the night again dominated only by the sigh of the wind, the crackle of the torch and the scant sounds of wildlife. The forests thinned and visibility improved, even as the two came upon the Misty Lake itself. The full moon shone boldly overhead, nearly at its zenith.

“Junko… So what is all of this, anyways?” asked Reisen. “Were you really going to the washroom earlier, or did you run off and meet up with her? I know she has to be around here.”

“Nope. I met with Lady Hecatia.”

Reisen frowned. “Right, forgot she’s here too. What for?”

“Lady Hecatia found us the fifth flower and she told me how to get to it. She wants to help you cure the Muenzuka and stuff.”

“Is that right? So how do we find it?”

“Just follow me!”

And Reisen did. She prodded Clownpiece for a little more information, like deeper motives or Hecatia and Junko’s current locations, but mostly got shrugs and happy declarations of ignorance. It was hard to tell if it was as Reisen had said—Junko and Hecatia wouldn’t tell Clownpiece more than was necessary. On the other hand, it wasn’t wise to completely dismiss the girl, either.

Reisen knitted her brow and recalled all the times Clownpiece had surprised her, though her saying that “everything was going according to plan” hadn’t been one of them. She’d blown off that comment, well as she should’ve, but what if this little fairy had been planted as part of some elaborate plan to begin with? Did it matter?

“Clownpiece, if I asked you what Junko and Hecatia’s real game was here, would you tell me?”

“Yeah! They wanna help cure the Muenzuka. And do you know what video games are? Lady Hecatia has those. Those are fun.”

Reisen studied the girl’s face and found it to be the usual picture of eccentric innocence. “But is there something they’re not telling you? And something you’re not telling me?”

“I think so,” said Clownpiece, her smile fading. “But I don’t like to think about it. There’s this one thing Miss Junko has to tell you about herself. Then there’s this other thing that I think Lady Hecatia thinks, and I think that it’s a bit scary, and I don’t think I know what to think about it.”

“I see.”

“I’m worried about Miss Junko,” said Clownpiece, eyes dark. “I don’t want her to go. But its’ a good thing, and I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. Sorry.”

“No, that’s alright, Clownpiece. Thank you,” said Reisen, and her glance was too clouded with sympathy to try and decipher what she’d heard. Then her mind cleared as she nearly stepped into the lake. “Whoa! Hey, so where are you taking us, anyways?”

“I’m looking for the spot. I think maybe…” Clownpiece stopped and waved her torch, warding away the mists as though they held something from her. “Hmm. Wait here, Reisen. I need to make sure this is the first spot.”

“The first spot?”

They’d been going around the lakeshore, the water ever to their right, the moon steadily climbing on its own axis as they went clockwise on theirs. Clownpiece broke into flight, hardly above the earth and then hardly above the water as she vanished somewhere over the lake. Reisen looked out over the water for a time, then crouched, drawing perfect circles in the sand with her finger. She didn’t know when she’d begun looking skyward for the one there.

“I wonder how you’re all doing,” she said to the moon, her ears twitching. For as banal as it appeared, this was the method by which she could communicate with the moon rabbits. There was no indication of a response or that the message had gone through. But she continued talking.

“It’s the full moon,” she said, “so I’m sure Lady Yorihime’s sent everyone out for another long patrol. I don’t even remember all the lunar passages anymore. But if an invasion really did come, you’d all just get plowed through because Lady Yorihime’s the real line of defense… And if it isn’t patrols, I’m sure Lady Toyohime just wants a lot of mochi, right? Nothing but demands and hard work, all the time…”

Reisen chewed her lip, and with a sudden realization, she finally stopped muting the sound waves of her voice. “Oh, that’s right. Hey, Wakasagihime! Kagerou wants to remind you about book club next week.”

Her voice carried out plain and clear, and the lake remained silent. Reisen folded her arms over her knees and sighed. It really was a madwoman’s habit—she knew that communicating with the moon rabbits had become more difficult for her as she spent more time on earth, yet whenever she did so she only pretended. If she dared allow her voice through, chances were that she wouldn’t be understood regardless. She didn’t think that bothered her, yet she kept up the practice.

A flickering light pulled Reisen’s gaze back down, and there was Clownpiece, hovering over the water and gesturing animatedly.

“Over here, Reisen! Follow me!” said the fairy, and she flew away.

Reisen adjusted her bag and leapt into flight, chasing the flame and its impish bearer. Clownpiece stopped at a random point above the water, and just as Reisen caught up the fairy darted off again, stringing Reisen along in some unknown zigzag across the lake’s obsidian surface. Reisen arrived with a more impatient voice and questions each time, but the process continued until she was thoroughly disoriented.

After perhaps the sixth or seventh time, Reisen let the girl know exactly what she thought. “Clownpiece, are you just playing around? I should’ve knocked over that drink!”

response to the shouting, Clownpiece picked up speed and nearly vanished. Reisen simply continued in a straight line until the fire reappeared, though this time it and the shadow beneath seemed larger. As drew near she saw the silhouette fan out—there was one orange torch held aloft, and seven ghostly tails that framed the second of the diverging shadows. An imposing figure, with a hand on Clownpiece’s shoulder and an unreadable gaze that scarcely regarded Reisen even as she joined them.

They stood on a tiny island, a mound visible only by the way the light played upon the water’s surface. It was no more than an inch from breaking out above, and the slightest disturbance in the lake may have revealed it in places. Yet the lake and even the once-playful mists were absolutely still, and despite the flames, the air about Junko herself was bitterly cold.

“Good girl. It’ll be alright,” said Junko, and Reisen didn’t catch a single other word.

“Hi, Reisen,” said Clownpiece, “it’s been really fun looking for the flowers with you, but there’s’ something I have to do. So I gotta go now! See you later!”

“Huh? Just like that?” asked Reisen.

“Um… Just do it!” said Clownpiece. “Don’t let your U.S. Raffles down, Bunny. Take care of Miss Junko.”

Clownpiece saluted, and in that hand Reisen saw a strangely familiar shimmer. She held some bundle of cloth, but before Reisen could ask or look closer, Clownpiece dove off into the air. Her torch, vivid with raw, impure life force, scattered the mists and was soon consumed by it, leaving Reisen and Junko well alone.

“Junko,” said Reisen. “I need to know—”

The soft sound of chewing silenced her. At length, when Junko was done with about half her peach, what remained of the fruit disappeared beneath her long sleeve as her hand fell, and she bowed. Reisen jerkily responded in kind.

Reisen’s mind raced with confusion and suspicion. She’d had little interaction with Junko since they’d first met as foes, and she still thought of her as that calculating, fearsome spirit so bent on the moon’s fall. She contrasted so greatly with her typical company that Reisen couldn’t help but question it, despite the plain affection she’d just seen. And eating—well, everyone did that, but it was disarming to see Junko do it. So flippant. Practically something Toyohime would do.

“My apologies for that. Good evening, Reisen,” said Junko. “Clownpiece has told me that you find Hecatia and myself frightening. Thank you for meeting me in spite of that.”

“Can’t deny that,” said Reisen. “But I know you only oppose the Lunarians, not Gensokyo, not even lunar deserters like me. Well, you said there was a flower here, and according to Clownpiece, there’s something you want to discuss.“

“Too the point, then. So first, here is this. A flower awaiting you on the lake beneath the full moon.”

From her flowing sleeve Junko produced something small, a pale bloom that descended from the mountains. Its petals were covered in fine hairs, like it was woven from a cloud. The Edelweiss appeared as distinguished as it should have, but it emanated an uncanny air. As it passed into Reisen’s fingers she felt her skin crawl, some foul pulse racing from the flower to her core.

“That’s the fifth one,” said Reisen. “You’re just going to give it to me?”

“Correct. I deliver it on behalf of Hecatia.”

“Thank you.” Reisen bowed quickly. She didn’t doubt the flower’s authenticity, but her eyes she still watched Junko as prey would observe a predator, waiting for an opportunity to run. “So what next?”

“Put it with the rest, of course. What do you make of your arrangement?”

Reisen nodded an retrieved her specimen case, which was by now buried quite deep among her things. Each of the flowers seemed to breathe as they were revealed to the moonlight, but they were otherwise frozen in time, and the final piece fit in perfectly. Reisen looked at each and shook her head as she shut the case and stowed it.

“Five impossible flowers. It’s a complete set,” said Reisen, “but the reality is that Master only needed regular specimens. This was all for Princess Kaguya’s entertainment, but even she couldn’t have wrought all these things into existence. They’re all basically pulled right from the story, so what Kagerou said about these tales coming true must be right.“

Junko gave voice to words that only faintly drifted at the edge of Reisen’s thoughts. “And yet?”

“It doesn’t quite line up. One of these flowers is a sham, and I didn’t find them in the right order. Yet here they all are in the end. How? Did you or Hecatia do this somehow?”

“Certainly not. For whatever inconsistencies there may be, you’ve found the impossible flowers, haven’t you? So your task is done. You can simply complete the tale by returning home, as a happier, more enlightened person.”

“Right. But I just don’t like it. I feel like I’ve been used, somehow.”

“Isn’t that how it always is? It’s an errand from your master. You dislike being used, yet you continue to live with servitude as your nature.”

Reisen’s temperature rose along with her voice. “That’s not the same thing. I know something’s up. Tell me what you’re getting at already.”

“Very well. Hecatia and I have reason to believe that the Muenzuka is traceable to the Lunar Capital. Through rather a lot of hoops, yes, but it’s only another plot to disrupt life on earth. Perhaps it’s an experiment, or a roundabout method of sabotaging space programs in the outside world. The pandemic’s mostly run its course there, at least.“

“How do you know that?”

“We could spend hours here laying out all the evidence and theories, if you’d like. But think, Reisen. You know the Lunarians. Is it not their nature to meddle with world affairs? To see fit that the earth is crowned in chaos whenever it suits their needs?”

Silence. Junko continued. “Despite their grandstanding, i think these things do tend to start small. A simple virus to target a single point, that spread across the earth and now became a beast as it trespassed into fantasy. Perhaps the undoing of the Muenzuka, as we call it, is the Lunarians’ will as well. Not guilt, of course. Fear.”

Reisen’s brow creased. “So this entire mess was an accident?”

“A happy one for them, Though I’m certain of their guilt, I only guess at their mind—but I make very good guesses. So I don’t think you should worry so much over what guided you to find these flowers, if indeed anything did at all. After all, if they were further sabotage, your Eirin Yagokoro wouldn’t be so easily fooled when it comes to medicines.”

“That’s true,” Reisen said slowly.

“It’s already happened. I think you should do as you like, rather than worry about how you may have been dragged around.”

“Then I guess it matches up with the story anyways, because I’d definitely like to go home and relax. Well, I’ll still have work to do, but I can’t let the Muenzuka cause more trouble, especially if it serves the Lunarians.”

There was a glint in Junko’s eyes. “Do you hate them?”

“I… don’t know,” said Reisen. “I think so. They cause a lot of trouble for us here on earth, and I never had such a good life up there, either. What is this? Are you hoping I’m like you, somehow?“

“Not hoping, but in a sense. I’m wondering what you’ll do,” said Junko, “whether or not you’ll try to stop me from invading the moon tonight.”

A frigidness passed over Reisen’s eyes even as they blazed red, attempting to pierce the calm amber of Junko’s own. Yet madness had no hold on her, and the woman’s expression was as gentle as it ever was. Reisen heard water splash and felt her backwards step sinking into the sand. The air moved around her arm as she drew it up into a finger gun. Every instinct told her to shoot, but she allowed her voice to fire first.

“I won’t let you,” said Reisen. “Just because you helped me get this flower doesn’t mean I’ll stand by and let something like that happen.”

“Who are you to stop me, Reisen Udongein Inaba?” Junko stressed each syllable of each name and began to circle her, but she looked skyward rather than on the energy constantly trained on her head. “Are you defending the moon, or the earth?”

“Both. The last time you invaded the moon, Gensokyo was nearly purified into destruction. Even if they planted the Muenzuka disease, a retaliation would just start another Genso-Lunar War. I won’t wait for an incident to happen if I can resolve it right here.”

“I’m not so sure. My plans aren’t nearly so grand this time. I do not attack on behalf of the earth, only for myself, as the Lunarians already know me. To them I am an old thorn, and they do not even know which flower they picked to bury me in their hand. They cannot remove me, nor I myself. With each strike I sink deeper.“

“What’s the point? Just to annoy Chang’e and satisfy yourself? Even if you attack and it amounts to nothing, don’t you see how futile it is? Why can’t you just live and let go?”

“I cannot. It is my own nature. You can try, but you won’t stop me from going.“ The flames of Junko’s tails grew, and her ambient aura seemed almost oppressive in its calmness. Then it passed, and she began to walk again. “No, it’s impossible.. But if you wish it, you may come with me.”

As Reisen’s eyes widened, the circular pulses of her irises broke like static. “Wha—why would I help you attack the moon? I’m not like you at all.”

“Not exactly the same. But perhaps more than you think. Neither of us can escape our ties to the moon.”

Reisen flinched as Junko looked at her. In the brief instant she felt like she saw through the opaque pools of an endless grudge to something cold and lonely within. In an instant it was gone, perhaps no more than a trick of the mind..

“If I was intending a major assault on the Lunar Capital,” said Junko, “then do you think I would’ve sent Clownpiece away? She is pure life force, anathema to the Lunarians’ very existence. They fear her. But she is a child, and I’d much rather her spend her time playing here in this place of beauty and decay, rather than visit some dull rock for my purposes."

“So why would you want me to come with you? I’m hardly on the same level of impurity as a fairy.”

“Let me ask you a question in turn. Why are you considering this offer? There is something you’d like to visit the moon for. Something you’re still missing. You aren’t satisfied either.”

Reisen grimaced as the small thing ever blossoming in the back of her mind returned. She’d tried to forget the sixth flower, impossible not because it was in a story but simply because of what it was. Eirin didn’t even ask for a fruit of the lunar udonge in the end, but if she truly needed it, Kaguya already has a branch and a bonsai. But then it seemed strange that it’d even been brought up at all. Indeed, if the muenzuka came from the moon, it would be no surprise if the magic bullet turned out to be one plucked from the lunar grounds themselves. It wasn’t a very scientific thought, but Reisen found that in Gensokyo, science often abandoned them.

“No. It’s not a good idea,” Reisen finally said. “It’s dangerous. Master wouldn’t approve, and if she really needed it she would’ve done something about it.”

“Oh? But what do you want to do, Reisen Udongein Inaba?” Junko’s laugh was cold and hollow. “Shall I purify your names away to find what you really are? Time is short, so do make up your mind soon.”

Reisen’s brow knitted furiously as she tried to decipher Eirin’s mind, and what she got was mental gymnastics and wild speculation. Yet it didn't seem so odd—Eirin wasn’t always so direct. Was the striking of the sixth flower some kind of test, and the other five simply some vehicle to give her courage to go for it? Of course, Eirin also knew that her assistant was a coward. She’d never go for it on her own.

“But maybe that’s the test?” Reisen mumbled. “But if I go, something horrible could happen to me or to Gensokyo… Huh? Hey, what’re you—”

Junko had moved away, though she made no secret of it. She was hovering over the water only a few steps from the islet’s edge, reaching down into the white mirror of the moon on the water’s surface. Her hand broke through the reflection and continually swirled, pulling the moon’s edges outward. A thin light rose from the rim, and soon it was large enough for a person to fall through.

“This portal shall close shortly,” said Junko, her back to Reisen. “I will provide you a means to return safely if you follow. If you wish to come, then leave your bag here. Clownpiece and Hecatia will ensure that your things are taken to the landing point, and should anything happen, they will be sent to Eientei.”

“So I’m just going to be following your orders instead,” said Reisen, “and I just have to trust everything you’re saying?”

“They are more like suggestions, though good ones. I don’t know your true object, after all. You’re no girl in a fairy tale, and regardless of what you think, this is no command from me, no contrivance of the moon, no secret task from Yagokoro. I give no further guarantees. Act as you will.“

And without another word Junko leapt into the shining portal, through the boundaries of worlds and the space between, to the moon.

***

Junko’s lunar passage was swift and overwhelming. Stars raced by and the cold rush of water pervaded the fiber of her being. The edges of her soul flickered, the vengeful ring of hatred growing excited as the image of the full moon appeared and grew closer, larger than the mind could comprehend. Yet she was as calm as the thing in her very center, the piece of her that bore the echoes of distant days of simple joys and despair. It was at once the spark that ignited her hatred, and the thing that kept her from throwing ehrself at the moon every night, from seeing things as more than simple pawns.

She cherished her two essential pieces, Hecatia and Clownpiece, because they were something beyond merely essential for her plan. Love and trust made them all the more effective—Junko’s logical mind still couldn’t deny that much. But all things were about manipulation, and if this one more form, it was a better one.

She broke through the end of the passage, all senses and thoughts ceased briefly. A deathly still peace, so hauntingly appealing if she only could’ve thought of it. Then she returned, and a lifeless world spread before her.

The landscape appeared like a world cut clean in two. Above the flat horizon was the black sky, dotted with innumerable stars, and below there stretched a great body of water, silent and brooding. Any movement was a delusion, an impure being’s desperate wish to imagine life in a great expanse where there was none. Directly below was the reflection of the earth and the rapidly closing portal.

Junko didn’t see if Reisen was beside her, nor did she turn to look. “Here are the suggestions,” she said. “Follow me like a shadow. Do not break from me until I upset the sea beneath us now. Then, go where you will, and return to this spot to leave—on your own path, not mine.”

Junko sighed. The fire of her tails billowed in a strange, measured way in the realm’s atmosphere, a product of her being rather than of any wind. Lifting higher, she pressed forward, charting the precise path to the Lunar Capital.

The Far Side of the Moon where the Lunarians lived wasn’t named such because it faced away from the earth. Rather, the small realm with the seven lunar seas was sealed off from the mundane by a border of reality, not unlike Gensokyo itself. But another layer shielded the Lunar Capital itself, a barrier passed only by flying through specific points of the lunar seas. It was effective, even a thing of paranoia—and clever, too. Not original, Junko imagined, as new ideas so rarely sprung from the moon, but she wasn’t one to talk.

It was a long journey that began at the Sea of Tranquility, the distant place where junko had first met and fought Reisen. Each body of water was far greater than Misty Lake, but the Far Side of the Moon in total was only a fraction of the already small Gensokyo. Junko flew at a brisk, yet unconcerned pace. The Lunar Emissaries couldn’t find her until she wished to be found, after all.

She announced herself right at the Lunarians’ doorstep, simply by crossing the final invisible threshold over the Sea of Sages. She floated calmly, watching space distort until an island appeared to rise out of the sea, bearing an ostentatious palace. Far behind this vanguard, the towers of the Lunar Capital rose arrogantly from the coastline. Such ugly, prideful things, reaching with both envy and disdain for the blue dot.

Junko smiled. Then, she turned, and flew backwards upon the same route.

The air roared, and the seas below began to move, waves building and cresting, driving off before them even faster than Junko flew, but she only stopped when she came to the exact point where she’d arrived over the Sea of Tranquility.

Only now did she turn, her head inclining to avoid a screaming slash of energy by a mere inch. A red shadow raced towards her at godlike speed. Junko still smiled, looking upon the vast power barreling towards her as a mother would watch a foolish child.

Another warning shot came, this time splitting into seven pillars of light that clove jagged waves below. They were like cuts in the universe made manifest, and again Junko remained still as they passed her to either side. Her pursuer continued on until her features were finally distinct in the soft starlight.

“You. Why have you come?” Watatsuki no Yorihime’s tone was as harsh as the steel of her sword. “Make this short. Leave now and cease your plotting. I won’t have any mercy.”

“I have noticed something,” said Junko. “Lunarians know of agriculture. You even get to skip all the work before the harvest, and the unpleasant end thereafter. Yet as a result, you don’t even notice when things flower..”

“I don’t comprehend you.”

“Then these affairs must only be known to your sister. No matter. I’m here for the same reasons as always—routine. Sport, if you will. Previously, I didn’t even encounter you before you fled in terror. A pleasure to see you this time. It’s been quite a few decades.”

“Such juvenile insults,” said Yorihime, her voice nearly a hiss, “is defiling our land and antagonizing the Lunar Emissaries so trivial to you? You haven’t come with those wretched fairies, yet I know you bear some weapon of impurity on you. If you intend to…”

Junko was eating said weapon—the half of the peach she didn’t quite finish before. It was about as delicious as the flash of anger on Yorihime’s face.

“I see you mock my sister as well as myself,” said Yorihime. “I won’t forgive that.”

“Pardon me. I simply hadn’t finished my supper,” said Junko. “But you see, this is one of the sad things about you Lunarians. You always seem to make everything about yourselves. I know you detest the impurity found on earth, but we do have to settle for this inferior food.”

“I’ve repelled you time and again. You may have prevailed in your previous attempt, but the record runs thousands of years. If you’re done playing, I’ll make this a routine affair, as you put it.”

“Perhaps. But it makes your single failure all the more humiliating.” Junko took a bite of the peach, entirely indifferent to Yorihime’s glare. “I hear rumor that, since the last time we met, you have learned Gensokyo’s customs. If you’d prefer a spell card duel, I will withdraw if you win. Or would you rather we settle things the same as always.”

Yorihime paused. One impassive face attempted to read the other, to no avail.“You’ve been pierced by a thousand Lunarian arrows. We’ve cut you open and thrown you bleeding towards the earth more times than there are stars above. Even if you offer me a less unsightly way to dispose of you, you hardly deserve it.”

“So you decline, then.”

“I won’t play your games. I will cut you down with the unrestrained power of the gods.“

The silence was so heavy that it could have dragged the sky into the sea. Junko’s face finally changed, but it was no more than her head dipping just so slightly. Even as her opponent’s sword pointed towards her, she remained still. But the tension was not cut by the lunar princess’s divine blade, but by an icy laughter.

It began small, as though on one’s final breaths, then built like a cresting wave. It soon broke into something senseless, furious, the laughter of a heart that beat only in spite of another’s. It was the painful roots of madness within junko brought into being, naked in its grotesqueness. A thing that wouldn’t cease even as the galaxies collided, as the moon was flung to its extreme, and the last flames of Hell went dark. A thorn that nothing she knew could remove.

“This is the other thing about you Lunarians,” said Junko, tone steadying, but some kind of crack remained. “So proud. I assure you that I didn’t ask for spell cards as some kind of ploy. It was to permit your safety. Are you even aware of your own peril?“

Yorihime didn’t flinch. “You truly are mad. Explain yourself.”

“I can purify anything, Watatsuki no Yorihime. Not strictly to create the stagnant purity that you worship. No, to distill the very being of something, as I purified my hatred from the trappings of my life, death and name.”

“And so with a single seed,” Junko continued, raising her hand, “I shall create my own domain. A place where even your loathsome gods are too coward to tread. Shall I purify that bead of mortality within you, wretched princess? Will you beg to be spared, or shall I simply claim the stakes and tear the head from your shoulders?”

Junko let the peach stone fall, breaking the Sea of Tranquility with a single ripple that ran to every coast. But Yorihime didn’t falter. Neither did she even attempt to channel the gods that provided her with such indomitable power. She narrowed her eyes into a glare, and attacked.

In an instant the peaceful sea transformed into a raging storm. Yorihime’s blade tore light into existence, like the tracing of hundreds of new constellations, each wave carving afterimages into the black sky. Junko’s power manifested in only the simplest of bullets, white orbs that outnumbered the stars and flew with no care for spectacle, only a single focus to surround and destroy her quarry.

Every shot Junko fired was laced with wrath, only vaguely directed at one thing and all that surrounded it. She saw the object of her hatred every so often in the pitch of battle, when her mind still fooled itself enough to imagine her own mortality. It was in the vague shape of a woman, undying, immovable. But it wasn’t always Chang’e that she saw—sometimes, it was a woman with burning tails. A woman that bitterly laughed as she did now.

***

Reisen let out a cry of sheer terror as a blade of light grazed the fur of her rabbit ears, which tucked themselves in at the last second. She was little more than a distorted bubble streaking over the sea, warping light and sound, surely obvious if the sky wasn’t one of the most intense firefights she’d ever seen. She was flying towards Yorihime’s shots, which was bad enough, but plenty of beams and bullets came from Junko behind her, and Reisen could only react to them based on a vague humming that was nearly drowned by her own heartbeat.

And her ears picked up quite a bit more than sound as well. After years of hardly knowing the communications, being so close to the moon rabbits’ signals was overwhelming in the extreme. The moment they beheld the Moon Palace, she’d been bombarded with vaguely familiar codewords and emergency signals. The transmissions were now a chaotic static of panic and fascination from every Lunar Emissary.

She saw them at the coastline, dozens of terrified girls cringing and shaking behind the cover of peach trees. Every once in a while one with her bearings about her would raise her lunar rifle and charge out to help their captain, only to scream and duck to safety as stray shots found their way across the vast sea to their location.

Reisen felt more like those rabbits than she liked. She didn’t want to be here either, from the second she’d emerged from the lunar passage and begun cloaking herself. Her invisible face had been stricken with immeasurable horror throughout the whole confrontation with Yorihime, making her so slow to react to the falling peach stone that a bullet forced her to move. Her potential discovery was terrifying enough, but Junko’s haunting laughter had carved an even greater pit in her stomach.

At last Reisen cleared the Sea of Tranquility, if it could be called that now. Next was the Sea of Serenity, where the barrier checkpoint was, if she remembered correctly, a point she could triangulate with two funny peach trees and the reflection of Polaris. She focused hard to remember each point on the route, the same one she’d go on nearly every day to return from a long patrol. They were vague memories that she didn’t even know she had, and they seemed to be right.

Seeing Yorihime might have sparked her mind some. The lunar princess’s face was as it’d always been, taciturn with a thin line for a mouth just barely tugged down at the corners. The frown deepened whenever Reisen wasn’t doing well enough, which was often. But she’d never seen hatred in Yorihime’s face, not as she had just then. And unbelievably, hidden deeper still, Reisen had seen fear.

Reisen felt a chill. She’d had half a mind to burst out and help stop Junko herself, but at the critical point she’d caught a glimpse of her face once again. A calm face that communicated the full breadth of her hatred, but underneath, that glimmer of sadness. A look of someone who knew loss, who was more alike Reisen than they imagined.

It was enough to send Reisen back on course of her own plans. But as she traveled the moon alone, she had a distinct impression of it being wrong somehow—it was wrong that she was there to begin with, yes, but the moon…

“Just feels… Oh! There.”

Reisen felt it as she hovered her way to the end of the path over the last sea. It wasn’t like a shift of the wind or the taste of the air, but something deeper, like a single palpitation of the heart, louder than all the rest. The Lunar Emissaries’ signals were silenced.

There it was, a brilliant mountain of white sand crowned with a house of ageless wood and flawless tile. The tower keep demanded attention as it always had—seven stories, though appearing shorter due to the depressed garden.

“Others see it as pointless, but Lady Yagokoro believes in a little humility,” she remembered Toyohime explaining once. “That, and a good defense is to appear less than you are. Just make sure you actually are more than is expected, you silly girl.”

Reisen dove closer to the sea, pulling her feet just above the sand as she raced towards the Moon Palace. Even with the Lunar Emissaries on patrol or otherwise “assisting” Yorihime, she didn’t wish to risk flying in the airspace. If anyone could spot her, it’d be the other princess—so as Reisen flew up the path lined by peach trees, she broke off from the gate and went along the walls to the entrance Toyohime had never known about.

Things didn’t change very much on the moon, but Reisen was still surprised to find that the faulty tiles of the outer wall moved. They hadn’t decayed, of course, no more than the giant pot of peach-raspberry preserves did. It was a useful thing in the back of the panty, perfect for covering up the crawlspace that Reisen had dug out as a child. It was strange that Toyohime didn’t care much for that flavor, but even stranger that Reisen had ever had the gall to keep such a secret.

Reisen removed the tiles and crawled in, an excitement building within her. It was slightly stymied by her nearly getting stuck, but she eventually squirmed inside and replaced the tiles back into their persistent illusion. She crawled through the secret passage, pushed aside the neglected pot, and when she was finally in the back pantry she looked at her work and wondered how it’d never been discovered. She’d never considered it then, but perhaps Toyohime had simply allowed the mischief

“That doesn’t explain why she never closed it when i was gone, though,” Reisen murmured. An image of Toyohime herself squeezing through the passage entered Reisen’s mind, but she dismissed it with a shake of the head and a stifled laugh. She’d never know that that was exactly it.

Reisen did do her U.S. Raffles proud, if at the same time doing a great disservice to her former home. She knew every room and hallway, exactly where to hide and listen, where all the light sources would be so she could bend her illusions appropriately. These were the skills that had made her so interesting to Yorihime. The ones that had been finely honed with brutal training, except her experience had never come from ambitious lunar operations. She’d refined her skills on the earth, and here they were on the moon.

Guilt swept over Reisen’s mind along with distant memories, but she moved ceaselessly towards her goal, the closest sliding door to the garden. She slipped out into the breathtaking grove of peach trees, spying the centerpiece peeking out behind the crest of a wooden bridge. Reisen had known the tree as the most unsightly thing in the house, but as she drew closer she found no dark and forlorn corpse of a tree, but a peerless beauty that radiated color and light.

Lunar udonge.

A pure thing such as the lunar udonge, even when entirely barren, could not be called dead, but in the presence of impurity it was life in its truest form. A healthy brown had come to its branches, and every arm and bough was aglow. As Reisen stepped closer, she could see the hidden buds blossom into prismatic gems, like frozen flowers. Starlight danced upon the crests of each petal, cajoling the two red dots that darted about each and every one, a hidden gaze that the flowers knew.

Reisen pushed aside her wonder to claim what she’d set out for. She reached for one of the lowest boughs, seizing what might be an even greater branch than what Kaguya owned. A deep thrill ran through her as she held the tree, but anxiety came shortly after. She let go, and as the branch bent back into place she swiped at a single, bud that had yet to blossom.

A singing voice drifted through the garden. “Kagome, kagome…”

Reisen’s heart pounded in familiar rhythm to the song, and at last her mind put the melody and lyrics to it. She scampered away from the lunar udonge, searching for a hiding place in the trees. She heard the singing voice grow closer, and there was not one, but two pairs of footfalls upon the wooden bridge.

“Hm… So that’s what Yorihime and the rabbits are up to,” said Toyohime, approaching the jeweled tree. “It’s been so long. I’d nearly forgotten how lovely it is. Perhaps we should get the inks.”

A petite moon rabbit with dark eyes and drooping ears frowned up at the princess. “But Lady Toyohime, we’re under attack… We can’t just idle about here.”

“And would you really be more useful out there fighting, Reisen?”

Somewhere in the grove, a patch of scenery distorted with a start. Yes, that rabbit there was also named Reisen. It could’ve been many things—lack of creativity, a form of denial, a remembrance. Reisen—the one also given Udongein by Eirin and Inaba by Kaguya—frowned and continued to listen.

“I mean, n-no,” said the other Reisen. “And it’s my fault I’m like this, too.”

Toyohime laughed, cheerful and true. She gestured with a hand, and the small moon rabbit raised her own, wrapped in bandages, for the princess to inspect.

“Oh, please, Reisen,” said Toyohime. “I told you I didn’t want any mochi tonight. You and the other rabbits didn’t have to go crush your poor fingers. You’ll be better soon enough, though.”

“Sorry… Still, I don’t want to just sit around and eat peaches.” The other Reisen tugged at her necktie. "Lady yorihime’s in trouble. I can’t hear the other rabbits well at all. This is what I’ve trained for, Lady Toyohime. I want to help!”

“Oh, you’re such a silly girl. Having someone to talk to helps each of our moods, doesn’t it? Yorihime will be back soon enough, not a hair out of place. The last time she and I left the palace unguarded something quite… vexing happened. So let’s stay here a while.”

“Well… If you say so.”

“Hmm. Are you unhappy with this, Reisen?”

“Oh, no. It’s fine. I’m glad to just be here! Going out to fight’s kind of scary, anyways…”

Reisen Udongein Inaba’s mind was wandering. She still had her impressions of those days—the stern reprimands of Yorihime and the panic of keeping up with Toyohime’s whims. The relentless training and patrols of her adolescence, how she dreaded every full moon for the combo of a march capped with frantic mochi-making. She knew so well a rabbit’s work.

But now she remembered the rest. She really did never get her fingers hit by the mallet, but there had been a time when she was the one swinging it, and her partner was none other than Yorihime. After the accident she’d expected the worst punishment, but instead Toyohime insisted that her singing was off-rhythm. And Yorihime laughed, as neither of them had ever seen before. It’d taken Reisen a lot of reassurance to join in, still crying the whole time, but she never did want anything to do with the custom again.

She remembered also the nights after the long marches, when every once in a while Yorihime would bring her squad into the city for dinner and drinks. She remembered blunt assessments of her shortcomings, but also the firm encouragement by the end. She disliked her difficult formal education, but she now remembered looking forward to the simpler tutelage after. When Toyohime would take her into the garden and teach her things like unorthodox arts and music, when they’d lay on the grass and speak of the stars and the universe, and even the blue dot.

She remembered being spoiled, too. That her room was on the sixth floor of the tower because she’d complained about not having a view, and she’d been teased about it all the way into adulthood. But it was this room where she could hear into the ones above. It was there that she learned stories of a “Lady Yagokoro” the sisters missed dearly. It was there that she heard the whispered preludes to war with the earth.

Reisen, and only Reisen at the time, had laid awake for so many nights back then. The tension built until she could bear it no longer. She’d used her wave manipulation to steal a lunar veil, and with it she flew into the night, seeking hospice from the semi-mythical Lady Yagokoro. She ran away from a home she loved, and to fit herself with her new one, the lunar veil cast its curtain upon her memories of the moon.

Reisen mouthed the words. But how could she forget?

“Lady Toyohime, why’s this tree your favorite, anyways?”

Reisen nearly jumped, only vaguely distinguishing the voice from the one in her memory. She knew this question, even asked it before. The other Reisen’s voice was alarmingly close, and Toyohime’s was drawing even closer.

“It’s sentiment. A bit silly, really,” said Toyohime. “But when the other Reisen was little, one of her favorite games was hide-and-seek. But that silly girl almost always tried to hide… here.”

Toyohime, standing on a little pedestal of stones, grabbed the peach tree bough and leaned forward, peering around. Reisen scarcely breathed—she knew this answer too, though she’d only gotten a laugh before. Toyohime faced her, and though her eyes were directed lower Reisen still thought to cast a thousand illusions into them. Watatsuki no Toyohime knew the universe’s infinite possibilities. She knew Reisen’s tricks, even if they hadn’t been so good then. Yet she was looking and not seeing, her amber eyes already filled with a fond illusion of the past. She smiled and turned, descending to the garden.

All three pairs of eyes now went towards the shining tree. Toyohime hummed an old melody, and her companion nervously tapped along with both feet. And Reisen Udongein Inaba found herself speaking.

“Lady Toyohime,” said Reisen. “I’m really not that child anymore. I’ve learned too much. I always thought that people who lived in impurity were sad and stupid too, that there wasn’t any value in a life that could be lost. Maybe that’s just how we have to think. But there really are so many wonderful things and people down there.”

Reisen’s voice built. “I’ve always ran away, but the moon just keeps coming back. All the conflict, hundreds of thousands of years of it! The Lunarians tilt the scales, wage secret wars and unleash horrible things like the Muenzuka. I know you and Lady Yorihime have your positions to think of, but if you were really better, you’d be able to throw it away like Master… Like Lady Yagokoro did. I know it’s hard, but tha’ts why you do it…”

“And even she isn’t perfect, I can’t believe some of the things she scolds me about sometimes,” said Reisen, arms now in motion. “She’s a sage, not a saint, and you won’t find any saints from the moon. Even knowing all the good points… I can’t really love this place anymore. I’ll never belong here again. I shouldn’t even keep the name ‘Reisen.’ I have other ones now, and you have her here.”

Toyohime turned around.

Reisen quivered. She hadn’t kept a firm grip on her powers during her outburst, but she wasn’t aware of which waves she’d let pass unhindered. She was sure she didn’t mute every fragment, or mask every motion. Toyohime stared, head inclining slightly, then she looked to the other Reisen.

“You know… I’ not really in the mood for peaches,” said Toyohime. “You went through all the trouble of making those mochi. Why don’t we go to the kotatsu and eat some together?”

Toyohime turned her back to the singular beauty of the lunar udonge and left, singing the whole way, a small rabbit in eager step behind.

“No… I have to keep this name,” whispered Reisen as she watched them go. “Because there’s still a part of me that loves you.”

Toyohime’s song faded fast. “Kagome, kagome… Rabbit on the moon…”

And muttering the rest of the nonsense herself, Reisen Udongein Inaba left the garden. She left the secret passage, left the Moon Palace, left the Sea of Sages and barreled in a straight path towards the Sea of Tranquility. There wasn’t a soul around. No rabbit communications, not even a scar of battle. She looked around, uncomprehending but uncaring. The sea lived up to its name, save for a single point of blue, a portal just wide enough for her to fall through.

Reisen’s fingers shifted upon the fruit of the lunar udonge. On an impulse her mind relaxed and the illusion fell away, revealing her form and the intake of her breath to nobody but herself. Without looking back, Reisen ran away, diving into the portal and leaving the moon behind.

Chapter Text

The round window opened to a fresh breeze whistling through the bamboo. It carried the scent of hidden flowers, the rhythmic drops of the aftermath of passing showers, and the promise of a new cycle of seasons. As the humans rebuilt their lives and livelihoods, they mumbled about upcoming festivals, where the best place for cherry blossom viewing was, and what would be this season’s trendy foods and fashion. Many youkai were of the same mind, and even those who otherwise disdained sunlight were in the mood to enjoy its revived warmth. Gensokyo’s winter had been a long and fitful slumber, but instead of leaping right to wakefulness, many were content to transition to spring by indulging in its drowsy, dreamlike scents, a well-earned reward as “Muenzuka” again became associated with falling petals rather than falling ill.

Eirin Yagokoro breathed in this impure air that, even after a thousand years, surprised her sometimes. She didn’t think of things as purely better or worse. It was just that—surprising, as a “breath of fresh air” might always be to a Lunarian sage. It was quite welcome, because the Hourai Pharmacy hadn’t had it so easy over the past week. Finalizing the Muenzuka cure was simple enough, but dealing with the flood of patients and coordinating with various leaders for out-clinic distribution was a great bother.

It was a lucky thing she had her assistant—not the actual lucky rabbit Tewi, who’d been a patient, or perhaps feigning it. Reisen was reliable, actually more than ever recently. In fact she’d been so astute that she’d noticed that Eirin herself was being worn down, and proposed an early closing tonight. The idea took, though it was still nearly a 12 hour work day.

Strangely, Reisen hadn’t appeared very fatigued herself, or at least not until Eirin ducked through the curtain into the tea room. She found Reisen sprawled out over the table with very little dignity at all. At once the rabbit yelped and sat up straight. Then at a delay, her eyes fluttered again and she stood to bow.

Eirin smiled and took her seat. “I remember when you first learned of earthly tea customs, you were quite diligent about it. And then you burned out after our very first proper try.“

“It was terrible,” said Reisen as she poured the tea. “We don’t have that many hours to waste. This is just a simple break, with tea and sweets. This way Princess Kaguya can’t lecture me for speaking in the wrong order, or whatever it was.”

“Is that a sore spot?”

“Oh, not really,” Reisen said airily. “When it came to being proper, she didn’t hang the second scroll right, anyways.”

“Is that so? I don’t recall such a detail.”

“Well, I never mentioned it, anyways,” said Reisen. There was surely some subtle point there, and though it wasn’t unusual given what her gaze could do, Reisen seemed to be making a particular effort to avoid eye contact tonight.

“Is something the matter, Udonge? I’m not about to be offended on the princess’s behalf there. After all, you’ve made her quite happy recently?”

“Huh?”

“The impossible flowers, of course. It’s been a week and she still hasn’t stopped talking about them or showing them off. It would seem you’ve added another element to her eternal being. A positive one, too. Well done.”

“Right, she’s waving them around like she’s the one who found them.“

Not the expected blushing and gracious thanks. Eirin studied Reisen carefully, with the absolute barest squint of the eyes that typically was enough to make Reisen jumpy. Yet her demeanor was still quite collected, if aloof.

“Udonge?”

“Ah! Thank you, Master,” Reisen said with a jolt, a bit more characteristic of herself. “I did my best, and I’m glad it worked out.”

“I hadn’t expected you to find them. The princess did, of course, but in that innocent way of hers. Her own impossible treasures of old were all known to her beforehand, not things based in some fairy tale. They’re quite extraordinary—a shame they’re hardly useful.”

Reisen spoke after the delay of a long sip. “But princess Kaguya’s enjoyment has… utility, right? It’s priceless.”

“That is true, but with better specimens we could’ve gotten started much sooner. Even supposing that they existed, I didn’t imagine such impossible flowers would be very useful, and they aren’t. Their spiritual properties are far too unique.”

“You mean you thought the whole thing was a joke?”

Eirin’s eyebrow raised, it alone saying, “Didn’t you?” She looked upon the small vase of flowers on the table, an arrangement of many higanbana. She adjusted one that was out of place. Leftovers—Eirin had intended for the first trip to be used for samples, and then Reisen would go on to establish a larger supply of the ones deemed useful. When she’d returned with a fantastically useless haul instead, Reisen compensated by leveling entire flower fields when she was turned around for a second trip.

“It’s a shame these higanbana weren’t more helpful either,” Eirin mused as she finally set the flower right. “The higanbana is a flower of death and separation. Earthly flowers are impure by nature, this one especially so… the Muenzuka has such a terrible reaction to it. Too violent to be useful, unfortunately.”

“It must be a very pure disease,” said Reisen. “Where do you think it came from? The Netherworld?”

Eirin’s eyes narrowed a little more, noticing a sort of probing in Reisen’s voice. “Yes, it is. There’s a strong possibility that it was manufactured in the Lunar Capital. Not the only trouble relating to that, either. Last week, that wrathful spirit Junko was looking for you. Did you ever meet with her, Udonge?”

“Oh, um… I told you about how I ended up running around with that Hell fairy, right? She was just looking for Clownpiece, that’s all.” Reisen left little opportunity to respond. “So if the Muenzuka was from the moon, then what?”

“Little to do about it but solve the problem given to us.” Eirin sighed. “Now isn’t the time to be stirring up conflict with our old home.”

“Do you think Lady Sagume had anything to do with it all?”

“I don’t imagine she was the one who planted it. But perhaps she turned the disease on its head, leading to our cure,” said Eirin, “or perhaps not.. It’s better to think of our achievements as our own rather than the result of another’s machinations. Regardless of the truth, thinking that way does you no good, Udonge.”

“I understand, Master.”

“At any rate, this theory is why I originally wanted a fruit of the lunar udonge. It’s a natural answer to a weapon also from the moon.“

“So you left it out because it was unfeasible, right? Why not use Princess Kaguya’s bonsai or her branch? Were they not enough?”

“There’s the logistical issues and getting around the princess, yes. But a flowered jewel from the lunar udonge has the same issue as the impossible flowers. They’re too unique. Princess Kaguya’s are too associated with her, and other specimens have always been planted on earth with a darker purpose. A single bloom fallen by chance might have been useful somehow, but there’s little hope of that.”

Eirin helped herself to some of the sweets, her mind exploring the infinite possibilities of a single bloom from the lunar udonge. The sweets in question were leftover mochi made by the earth rabbits the previous week, in a rather creative assortment of flavor fillings. Reisen hadn’t touched them, but evidently she’d been deep in thought as well.

“So if it wasn’t a test, why didn’t you just tell me?” Reisen broke out, then she quickly added, “I mean, that I didn’t have to actually go get the weird, impossible flowers?”

“Ah, so that’s what you’re so worried about,” said Eirin. “I’d been thinking about an appropriate punishment, but it seemed both unfair and inefficient to throw something on you while we were so busy. However—”

“No, it’s unfair because you never told me to just go get normal specimens!” Reisen’s hand flew from the end of her necktie, only a moment’s hesitation directing it her accusing finger elsewhere. “All you told me was to go get five specimens, impossible or otherwise, and not drag my feet. How was I supposed to know two or three days was dragging my feet, or that I should’ve settled? That the whole thing was to just get Princess Kaguya off our back?”

“I know, Udonge—”

Reisen continued, waving her one hand like a gun. “You’re basically saying you want to punish me for doing too good of a job on really vague instructions. It isn’t fair. This isn’t how things should work. I’m sick of always being treated as the butt of some divine comedy. Miss Yuuka almost killed me last week, for starters. I even ran into her again on the second trip and…“

“I just hadn’t expected,” Eirin said slowly, “that you’d surprise me like that. Before the princess came in, we already had a list of where to go and a note for the florist in the village, so I really did think you’d return within a few hours. But it seems that you and everything around us are quite full of surprises lately.”

Reisen flushed. “I’m sorry, Master, I didn’t mean to go off like that… It’s the stress, I think. You must be tired too, and I’m not helping.”

“Quite alright, Udonge. I was going to say that I’d let it go after the initial inconvenience wore off. You have a point, and everything’s worked out, regardless. You did well.“

Reisen nodded, though she appeared unsatisfied. Words formed on her lips, then she silenced them by bringing her cup to her mouth. Though Eirin noticed that it was empty.

“Hmm. Tell me, Udonge,” said Eirin, “how often do you think of the future?”

“I assume you don’t mean about weekly chores or anything, so… not much.”

“I’ve been somewhat nostalgic lately. I’ve been wondering about the Watatsuki sisters,” said Eirin, her eyes seeming to wander to the cosmos rather than to the roof. “I knew and tutored them for quite a long time. And now, I have you. But you’re quite different.”

“I know i’m not as smart, but—”

“Hush, Udonge. The difference I’m trying to point out here is something else. My tutelage with them ended very abruptly when I fled the moon. But even though you’ve studied under me for such a short time, I feel as though I wouldn’t have as many regrets if you ever left.

“Is that because I’m a much worse student?”

“No, I don’t mean it as a bad thing. Perhaps I speak prematurely, but it’s just that even though you always seem to crave approval, you’re different somehow. More than the rest of us from the moon ever could, all while I wasn’t looking.”

“Oh… Thank you, Master.”

“Don’t take this as foreboding or anything. You still have a lot to learn from me yet. But when the time comes for you to go on your own, do still think of me as your master. It’ll give me peace of mind.”

“Yes! Well, a former master, that is,” said Reisen eagerly. "My favorite, wise, slightly cruel former master.“

Eirin laughed. “This is what I mean. It isn’t just stress, is it, Udonge? When did you get the confidence to make jokes like this, push back so passionately, or keep secrets from me? Even Yorihime was never so bold. How quickly things can change here on earth.”

The words hung in the air, broken only by the sound of Eirin finishing her own drink. She was quite cheerful, unusually so. She hadn’t made a complete recovery from the grueling week of work, but tea and a little time with her favorite rabbit did her good.

Reisen eyed Eirin with some apprehension, but unexpectedly, didn’t allow the silence to continue much longer. “What secrets, if I had any?”

“I don’t know, Udonge. But I trust you, and that makes me quite proud, somehow.” Eirin smiled and set down her cup. “You were right that i should’ve given you better instructions from the start, now that I can’t predict you so well. You deserve more respect than to be scolded over the flowers.”

“Do you really mean that, Master? Oh, I’m so happy!”

“Still, we do have our present positions. And it’s not proper for you to wave your hand at me like you were going to shoot.” Eirin, still smiling, turned to the doorway and called out. “Tewi! Is the tub boiling yet?”

All the color faded from Reisen save for the red of her eyes. Eirin looked into them for a time, and nodded approvingly. The illusory clone had an air of confidence to its face, bordering on defiance just before it flickered out of existence. It was hardly the grandest feat Reisen could perform, but the small detail was remarkable.

“Udonge? Oh, well.” Eirin finished the last of the mochi on the plate and tapped an old rhythm on its round edge. Even after taking up the name Eirin for centuries, she’d always imagined herself as the one tied tightest to the moon and her old ways. Still, she was developing a little more earth-like humor. She was growing softer as well. It hadn’t stopped her from boiling that water, but it didn’t take much to convert that into a pot of tea and a warm bath. It seemed as good a way as any to welcome someone home.

***

Leaves fell and bamboo rustled, but it was the mere incident of a brisk walk and nothing like the invisible chaos that had first left Eientei. In her rush Reisen had almost fallen into one of Tewi’s elaborate pit traps, which were largely designed to inconvenience and humiliate her specifically. Though she hadn’t allowed the earth rabbits that satisfaction for some time—not that she didn’t worry about it still.

Reisen emerged from the forest, ears peeking above the mist, a stark white beneath the light of the waning moon, though they returned no instinctive twitch. She pushed lightly on young grass underfoot rather than hard against the noise she might’ve been making.

“Wish I had time for a book club,” said Reisen, neither to the sky nor the ground below. “I wonder if Kagerou’s sharing the books I got her? No, no… That’s making it about myself.”

Reisen had changed course from Kagerou’s house after remembering the fact. She stopped running and hiding, though she didn’t turn back, either. Truthfully the idea didn’t even cause her any anxiety. She simply decided on moving forward towards something instead. Reisen had a weekend event to look forward to as well—of course, it was cancelled, but the half of Choujuu Gigaku that wasn’t stuck reciting sutras was still going to be pitched up somewhere.

Reisen stretched and lifted into a measured flight, taking herself above the forested path ahead. She stretched and rolled her shoulders, free of her medicine bag’s weight, and as she adjusted her blazer she reached into the breast pocket and pulled out the small secret within.

It was crystallized starlight, a flourishing scarlet mystery that was more impure and more beautiful every time one looked at it. It didn’t have any power for her to use, any monetary value or even any meaning to most she might’ve showed it to. But it belonged on earth now. Rather, it belonged with her.

Reisen returned it to her pocket as she finally spotted another red light below. She’d been so distracted that she tuned out the singing, which managed to be the most enticing thing between it, the lamp and the delicious aroma. Now reaching to check for her coin purse instead, Reisen dove for a gap in the trees and swept towards Mystia’s food stand.

Reisen sighed, reliving the conversation with Eirin in her head, feeling less embarrassed over it than she expected. She set some money on the counter and idly gave a greeting and order as she settled into the seat at the edge of the bench by the stack of papers. Before long her nose was in the latest issue of the Kakashi Spirit.

There were ads for some dodgy magic security courtesy of the Kirisame Magic Shop, still riding off the buzz from the break-in at the Hieda residence that nobody was yet implicated for. Beside it was a similarly suspicious ad for the vague services of one Seiga Kaku. Recent news included talk on the destruction and reformation of the bridge to the Underworld, how beautiful the cherry blossoms in the Netherworld were expected to be this year, and rumors of more secret projects at the Moriya Shrine. Front and center was an in-depth review of the recent work done at the Hourai Pharmacy.

Reisen herself had provided an interview when the tengu reporter burst in, throwing papers, flowers and skirts everywhere. Though there were a few references to impossible flowers, their ultimate irrelevance was acknowledged and the article lacked any mention of the moon. By now, people accepted that the disease drifted in from the outside world, and there was no interest in further tracing. Still, just in case, Reisen had become a particularly devoted reader of late.

Reisen nodded as she reached the end, once again reassuring herself. She perused for other interesting articles, brow knitting until finally she put down the papers and turned to the person beside her.

“Excuse me,” said Reisen, “do you have to eat so noisily? I’m—”

There were a number of disarming things about the blue-haired diner. There was the huge stack of plates in front of her and the four lamprey skewers in her mouth. There was her “Salad-tossing World Champ” shirt, the three ominous floating orbs chained to her collar, and the sheer power in her own burning red gaze. Not that she looked at Reisen with anything more than slight amusement, and in fact the Goddess of Hell’s attention quickly turned away.

“Um, here’s your food, Reisen,” said Mystia. She nodded to the other guest who, with a mouth still full of food, signaled with her hand and was somehow understood. It appeared that the night sparrow had a new favorite customer.

“H-Hecatia,” Reisen finally managed, “what’re you…”

Hecatia gulped down the rest of her mouthful, put the sticks on a plate, then reached with both hands to a large cup of sake and drank down the whole thing. Her eyes occasionally regarded Reisen, but when she was done drinking she went right to work on the fresh plate put before her.

“Mystia, what’s… I mean, do you know…” Reisen gestured without any subtlety. “You know who she is, right?”

“Lady Lapislazuli’s just as valued a guest as you, reisen,” chirped Mystia, “She’s got the right idea, too. Go on, eat up while it’s hot.”

Annoyance still plain on her face, Reisen did just that. Her reward for a long work week felt a bit spoiled now, but she avoided giving hecatia any further attention. As she finished her meal Reisen jolted and looked to her right. Hecatia was still gorging herself, hands too full to have tapped her shoulder. Grumbling, Reisen looked left.

“Hey,” said Hecatia. “What’s up?”

Reisen’s head whirled back to the blue-haired Hecatia eating at the counter, then she slapped her forehead as she suffered the Goddess of Hell’s hearty laughter. The Hecatia with blonde hair standing beside her waved to a bewildered Mystia, then began to walk away, signaling for Reisen to follow, and was understood.

“Sorry about that,” said Hecatia. “My other bodies are kinda in recharge mode. Other one’s up at the Komakusa Palanquin having a ton of sushi. Bit expensive, but worth it if you don’t lose all your money gambling first. Though I gotta say, this little bird’s food is real nice, too.”

“I don’t know where to begin,” said Reisen.

“How about, ‘Good evening, Hecatia!’ I’ll go first. Good evening, Bunny!”

“Oh, great.” Reisen heaved a sigh. “Good evening, Hecatia.”

“Aw, it’s a cute name and you might need it again. Y’know, I really like the surface, ‘cause you can hear the tengu whispering stuff on the wind. I think you got away with your gig better than you think, but rumor is Joon Yorigami lost a small fortune in a single night, as per usual.”

“I’m not getting involved with her any time soon. Speaking of trouble, does the wind whisper anything about the moon, you, or Junko’s actions?”

“You were reading the papers, right? I was prepared to smooth over anything, but I think we ourselves pulled off quite the secret operation too.” Hecatia put on a haughty voice. “Why, it’s the most sporting thing! Well done, Bunny.”

Reisen glanced up, catching a little moonlight through a gap in the trees as they walked the forest trail. She wielded no power beyond a grim intensity in her eyes as she fixed Hecatia with a stare. “Hecatia, what happened up there? Did Junko kill Lady Yorihime?”

“Nope! She’s fine.” Hecatia laughed and slapped a hand on Reisen’s shoulder as she watched a massive weight rise from them. “We might’ve hurt her pride a little, but she’s got plenty. Make no mistake—Junko didn’t lose, either.”

“You, Junko and Clownpiece have all been avoiding me, haven’t you? Something was wrong about the whole setup last week. You did make a way home for me, and my things were there like Junko promised. But the moon didn’t feel right, even before Junko filled the sea with impurity. Or whatever it was that she did.”

Hecatia beamed with an intense satisfaction. “Perfect, you think that too, huh? Well, we were avoiding you, yeah, because you had some important work to do. Great job distributing that cure, by the way. Betcha didn’t know it even leaked down into Hell. We can’t force everyone to take it, but I’d say the crisis will be over real soon.”

“So you really did want to help with the cure. Thanks, although the flowers turned out to be useless.”

“Yeah, Junko predicted as much. The whole flower thing was to see if you’d go along. Well, actually, let me prompt you. In order, what places did you visit after leaving the Human Village last week, on the night of the full moon?”

“I went to Mystia’s food stand, then to Misty Lake. Then the tiny island in the middle. To the moon, to the Moon Palace, then back to the islet.”

“Yup. But what if I told you that you never actually went to the middle of Misty Lake til you were done with your big trip?”

“What?”

“You didn’t go to the moon at first, either. Where were you? You’ve been in Gensokyo longer than myself, Junko or Clownpiece. So kick logic to Hell and take a wild guess.”

They’d stopped at a small clearing with a view of the night sky, its soft light framing the reaching arms of the trees, the green of early spring steadily sprouting across them. Reisen tore her attention away from Hecatia’s “Patriotic Mom” shirt to the bright light of the moon, though not the one in the sky. As Hecatia bounced up and down on her toes her chains yanked and clanked, the motion drawing Reisen’s attention to the smoky purple orb of the otherworld as well.

“But that’s ridiculous. Right?” Reisen shook herself. “No, you can, can’t you? Master made a fake moon before. But I didn’t think anyone could actually make one that you could…”

“Bingo! It’s a fancy trick, my dear Bunny. But just between you and me, it wasn’t easy.” Hecatia grabbed the end of the chain on the moon orb, and with a small flash of flame it was set free so she could give it a hard slap into the trees. “Had to cram my bodies into each little world to make it work. Not pleasant.”

“But how did you get me there?” Reisen gasped. “Wait, the path over the seas?”

“And over the lake. A good enough substitute.” Hecatia nodded, now juggling the otherworld orb as the moon orb returned to orbit. “it’s a clever enough idea to steal, right? First we connected you into my Hecatia-Gensokyo with the lake path. Then I had the Hecatia-Moon connect to the real Far Side of the Moon by going upon the Lunar Capital route, and you could go back if you followed the route in reverse.”

“We don’t normally do that… So that’s why Junko had me follow her exactly. It was completely seamless.”

“Yup. You visited a fake moon, then lured the Lunar Emissaries there. Meanwhile, back in the real Gensokyo, I had Clownpiece hold onto the Hecatia-Moon to make it so impure that the angry princess couldn’t channel any of her gods. If it helps the Lunarians didn’t notice at all, either.“

“So they really were in danger of dying” said Reisen. “Why haven’t they retaliated?”

“Because in the end, nothing happened. Nothing except us sending them a big scare and a middle finger, I mean. After the Muenzuka, I think the Lunarians were vaguely expecting some retribution, and it coming from Junko means it isn’t affiliated with a realm to war with. I’d say we helped out by giving your princesses something to do, make ‘em look useful. The Lunar Emissaries are probably combing the sea for a peach pit that isn’t even there!”

Reisen frowned as Hecatia laughed uproariously. That sounded like a lot of work for a lot of rabbits.

“Anyhoo,” said Hecatia, “we recruited the local mermaid to watch the islet in the real Gensokyo. When you popped back through the portal, Junko’s distraction was over. So I collapsed the fake worlds and everyone got shunted back to the nearest real ones. The pure ol’ Lunarians went back to their rock, but because Junko had the impurity of that peach still on her, she got shoved back to Gensokyo. Did it during a big clash so nobody could see what was going on.“

Reisen shuddered. “You call it a distraction, but I saw it. There was real murder in her eyes. If she killed Yorihime, then…”

“Everybody’s gotta go some time, Bunny. That’s what this was all about.” Hecatia’s face was dark, but she didn’t let it nor that enigmatic statement hang long. “Oh, yeah! So it was pretty tough to keep your escape portal open, while also connecting all those worlds together. So I had to use this.”

Hecatia reached into a small bag hung around her hips and pulled out a torn piece of cloth. It appeared white at first, but in the moonlight it took on a shimmer that seemed to defy the normal spectrum of colors. Reisen had seen this phenomenon before, including upon her own arm.

“Even just a piece of a lunar veil can connect worlds,” said Hecatia. “Long story short, this ended up on the moon then into my hands. But it belongs to you, and from what I understand the rest of it’s in Eientei. You want it back?”

“If I let you keep it you have a strong tool to fight the moon,” said Reisen. “You could pull a stunt like you just did again. Why let me take this back and tell me your trick, when I could easily tell the moon rabbits? Why do all of this so Junko could get me onto the moon? If she’s trying to recruit me for her own war, I’m not interested.”

“But do you want this thing back, or not?”

Reisen was unable to answer. The lunar veil did bring her to her current life on earth, but it also robbed her of her love for her old home. Though she wasn’t loyal to the moon now, she regarded Junko’s vendetta as dangerous, if not a little pitiable. She wanted nothing to do with either, and even less to do with the lunar veil.

“You’d just find another, or some other way,” said Reisen. “Could be even worse. You can keep it, but answer me: What was the purpose of all this?”

Hecatia’s voice remained frank, but her amiable smile faded. “Everything I’ve talked to you about up ’til now’s been Junko’s plans. And she’s fine with me sharing them with you, too. But as for why, this is where I only got speculation. But I know her better than anyone, so my guesses are pretty good.”

“You mean she didn’t tell her goals to even you? And you went with it anyways?”

“That’s trust, Bunny. I’m being truthful when I say that neither of us know what you actually went to the moon for. Junko just predicted that you wanted to go, so she gave you the chance and you took it.”

“I went because I thought something there could help me cure the Muenzuka,” said Reisen, feeling for the jeweled flower in her pocket. “That’s what I told myself, but I really just went to see my old home and old family. But only that. Seeing.”

“No, more than that.” Hecatia shook her head. “You know how you can’t move on from something unless you confront it and say goodbye? Yeah, I think I know what Junko’s thinking. She finds you very interesting, Reisen. And it isn’t just because you’re so cute!”

“Hey! Please don’t tug my ears…”

Reisen struggled a bit before realizing all she had to do was stand up straight and tilt a bit to shake the shorter woman off. When she recollected herself she noticed that Hecatia was no longer laughing. In fact, her smile wasn’t just gone now, her face actually looked quite grave.

Reisen tried and failed to remedy the mood. “I guess Clownpiece does take after you, huh? Er…”

“Sorry, gotta get heavy on you,” said Hecatia. “Junko’s entire existence is her grudge against Chang’e, a true immortal. All things that grow have to wither one day. Maybe even me, and all those high-and-mighty Lunarians too.“

“So as long as Chang’e exists, Junko will.”

“Yup. So many beings are tied to the moon. Youkai as a whole, for one thing. But of all the people tied to it, Junko seems to think that you have the most potential to change. To let go. To be proof.”

“That doesn’t make sense. I’m still attached to the moon—it’s my home, and I remember it even better now. In fact, I even have a piece of it with me…” Reisen hesitated, feeling Hecatia’s gaze on her pocket. She drew her hand away.

“Maybe not let go completely,” said Hecatia, “but come to terms with the past. So you can become something way more. A part of the moon that she can relate differently to, beyond hatred. We’ll leave you alone if you really want. I bet you feel used somehow. But when it comes to pieces on the board, you’re the only one she has working towards a goal that could last.“

“And that goal is letting go of the moon, rather than fighting it? If that happened, then would junko… Wouldn’t she die?”

“Probably. I know it’s hard to see under that spirit of vengeance, but Junko’s a person, too. She laughs, cries and loves, like anyone else. So to really bring that out… to give meaning to it all, I gotta help her.“

“Doesn’t it bother you, though? What about Clownpiece? This must be what she was so worried about. She kept talking about enlightenment and whether or not it was a good thing.”

“Yeah… it’s pretty real. If all Junko’s hate boiled away she just might go out like a candle. Eternity’s a long time, though. If she stayed immortal she’d find other Hecatias and Clownpieces eventually, but each would leave a hole in her heart. So I’m glad, you know? That we matter so much.”

Reisen slowly nodded. She happened to live with a couple true immortals herself, but she didn’t often think of time on such a grand scale. Like anyone on the earth, she was more worried about smaller affairs, the day-to-day. She imagined Kaguya and Eirin outliving her, and in that moment feared more for them than herself.

“That must be why Master was talking about peace of mind,” murmured Reisen. “She’d bear regrets for all eternity.”

“I think I get it,” said Reisen, voice firm. “I know that maybe, part of all this could also just be to gain my favor. I’m sure Junko has plenty of plans against the moon that I could figure into. But if me just being me helps somehow, I’m okay with that. I don’t plan on being the same person all my life.“

“You mean it? Thanks, Reisen.” Hecatia’s smile transitioned from sincere to its usual flippancy. “You sure are one funny bunny. It’s too bad you’re already someone else’s pet.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“That’s the spirit. Now, let’s pick up the pace here. They’re probably getting impatient with me.”

Hecatia took to the air and sped off, and only now did Reisen see that they’d been moving back towards the bamboo forest. Hecatia cut a path, carelessly plowing through bamboo, and Reisen followed for a while before realizing that Hecatia was clearly as lost as most anyone would be.

“Where are we supposed to be going?” asked Reisen. “Are Clownpiece and Junko here?”

“Should be, we were going to Eientei to begin with. I hurried off when my other body saw you, but then I ended up spoiling most of the conversation. Oh, well! I’m sure we’ll have time for a nicer, less morbid chat. We don’t have to bring up lunar conspiracies and your little secrets in front of your master if you don’t want it.”

“I think just a nice break with tea and sweets is better.”

“Perfect! Besides, Clownpiece is sick anyways. She caught the Muenzuka, so we need a bit of that miracle cure.”

Reisen smiled and took the lead. She charted the usual path home, but on the way she noticed a little multicolored shadow trotting about off-course. As though spoken into existence it was Clownpiece, torch extinguished, face slightly flushed, but still active enough to run helplessly about in a circle.

“Lady Hecatia! Reisen!” Clownpiece ran up, face distraught. “It’s an emergency! Miss Junko fell in a hole!”

“She what?” asked Hecatia. “Can’t she get herself out?”

“No, she needs our help. Quick, follow me!”

Clownpiece darted off, shortly returned, then went in the proper direction. Hecatia and Reisen exchanged glances as they allowed the fairy to yell and wave her arms for a while. And then at once, both began to laugh.

“It’s serious! Stop that,” said Clownpiece, though it didn’t help much. “It’s super deep and this big thing of bamboo closed over the top! If Miss Junko dies down there i’ll never, ever forgive you!”

Tewi’s newest pit trap was quite masterful, but ultimately nothing Reisen hadn’t seen before. She certainly couldn’t admire it in the way Hecatia did. The trap door was sealed tight and locked with an absolutely confounding puzzle and attached note.

“Miss junko, can you hear me?” said Clownpiece. “I couldn’t solve it, but Lady Hecatia and Reisen are here now. Can you read your part again? Um, statement A says that the green tumbler is in position…”

Hecatia looked over Clownpiece’s shoulder at the note, then at the lock. Shrugging, she scooped up her moon orb, set it aflame in her grasp, and spiked it into the trap door. With a deafening roar and a burning flash, the tiny meteor turned the sealed pit into more of an open, smoking crater.

A rather battered-looking Junko climbed out, though she didn’t carry herself any differently than usual. “Hello, Hecatia. I was hoping you’d help Clownpiece with her puzzle.”

“Didn’t i?” Hecatia clapped both Clownpiece and Junko on the shoulders. “Just leave it to me to help you out of a jam! Come on, Reisen’s taking us to Eientei.”

Despite her role, Reisen ended up steering from the back as Hecatia and Clownpiece jaunted forth, singing discordant songs interspersed with sneezing from Clownpiece. Junko walked beside Reisen, and at length she was the first to speak.

“I’ll ask you only this,” said junko. “What did you take from the moon?”

Reisen answered smoothly, without delay. “It’s a secret. People like you keep a lot of those, so I think I should start doing the same. After all, it seems I’m more interesting when I’m not so predictable.”

“That is well. What it is and what you do with it isn’t any of my business, after all,” said Junko. “But I hope it helps you somehow.”

“I think i’m happy to have it,” said Reisen, “but it’s kind of like the impossible flowers. It doesn’t do much.“

Reisen heard a laugh, similar yet worlds apart from the one she’d heard on the moon. It was a soft song on the wind, and just like that it was gone, though it left a faint smile. Reisen saw the flames of Junko’s tails billowing furiously towards the sky, the haunting wrath in her eyes. And she also saw the seed of humanity within, the greenery tangled on the hem of her dress, the easy step Junko fell into as Clownpiece and Hecatia joined them.

Reisen felt for the jewel near her heart. Eternal beings, cosmic games, the delicate balance between the earth and the moon. “Reisen” was a name from one, and “Inaba” from the other. As for “Udongein,” if she really was something that could only flourish away from home, then she was probably many springs away from full bloom. Perhaps she’d be in a different place, among different people by then.

But she didn’t need to think about a distant future and grand secrets. Reisen liked learning from a teacher about the sky more than she cared for the sky itself. She liked the food and drink after a long day’s work, not what came before. Certainly she ran away sometimes, but to good places—and she did come back. All the moon had to mean to her now was another day and night come and gone.

“Master! Princess!” Reisen called as she opened the door. “I’ve brought guests!”

For the present, she was home.