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Sleep eluded Marisa Kirisame. It was old news, yet each night it stung all the same. Tonight was no exception. Cicada song turned to cricket song, and minutes turned to hours. Maybe it was the soreness in her shins, maybe it was dumb luck, but tonight, Marisa chose to do something about it.
She threw the covers off and groaned, snapping her fingers a few times to produce a spark. On the third, a small flame lit above her thumb and forefinger and flickered silently. Gently, she brought it to a lantern sitting on her nightstand and lit the wick. It squeaked quietly as she turned the oil intake up on the back of the rusty contraption.
Like magic, the room illuminated in a warm orange hue. It rattled when Marisa held it up by the thin metal handle. The sight that surrounded her wasn’t anything new. Trinkets, books, and bobbles stacked as high as her. Magical whirligigs churned, failed experiments dripped through glass tubes, and clothing lay scattered over piles and piles of half-read books. A symphony of smells, sounds, and stimulation, yet tonight it felt so empty.
She caught herself staring into the lantern. Not her fault, of course, there was something lovely about the colors of flame. And when she looked away, it dawned on Marisa that she didn’t really have a plan. Sleep would’ve been nice, but she’s beyond that now. Fly around until she’s tired enough to rest, maybe? Well, she didn’t need an excuse to see the stars.
She threw on the first skirt she saw and the first shirt that smelled half-decent. There was a light drizzle tonight, evident from the gentle tapping of water on glass. Her large black overcoat drying by the fireplace would do nicely to keep her warm.
Wooden planks creaked loudly underfoot and the lantern rattled side to side as she stepped through the bedroom. The friendly smells of sulfur, mold, and onion greeted her in the hallway.
The stairs were no less creaky and the front room no less chaotic. Dim embers coated the floor of the fireplace, but the overcoat was still comfortably warm and dry around her shoulders.
She placed a light touch on her broomstick’s handle, rousing it to wakefulness. It shuttered happily when Marisa scratched between the bristles, and didn’t mind being tipped over to snap the lantern into place at the front. It rattled and swung side to side as the broomstick hovered silently above the floor.
Marisa looked to the hat hanging beside the doorway, but couldn’t put it on.
With that, she was off. The night was wet. Every star in the sky hid behind a layer of thin cloud and fog. Only the moon braved the haze, a white sliver shining dimly. The air around her lantern shone orange, revealing little particles of mist and rain otherwise imperceptible. She could feel them, however, on her cheeks and through uncombed hair.
She was alone up there beneath the clouds, and not in a rush to get anywhere. So, she flew slowly, ready to take in the scale of Gensokyo below.
She wanted to see the stars, of course, but she wasn’t quite ready to say farewell to the beautiful scenery below. Lights shone in the distance, and Marisa realized she had flown to the human village.
They weren’t stars, yet lanterns had their own beauty. And as she flew past looking down, she wondered if anyone was down there looking up. But she didn’t dwell for long.
Like a moth to flame, the Hakurei shrine beckoned her in. She didn’t realize that’s where she was headed until she recognized the hills behind the shrine. A light was still on from inside the main building, so maybe Reimu couldn’t sleep either.
But Marisa didn’t stop by. Tea, an embrace, a conversation, none of it sounded helpful, even assuming Reimu was awake and able to listen. She needed to be alone, or maybe she was feeling lonely and afraid.
So she turned and flew upwards towards the hazy moon and foggy skies. Didn’t want to keep the stars waiting, after all.
One by one, as clouds faded behind her, the stars came out. It was cold up there, so she couldn’t stay long, but it’s suddenly so quiet and peaceful. Marisa hopped off her broom and floated there in the sky, laying flat and staring up.
The sight was still nothing new, yet it impacted her all the same. Shining pinpricks of immutable light, infallible and divine. Shimmering as if to tell her, it’s going to be okay, just keep going, you’re doing fine.
Some of the nighttime drizzle must have accumulated near her eyes. Marisa wiped the water running down her cheeks. When she was ready, she turned to leave.
The shrine was quiet and dark by the time she arrived. She left her boots, broom, and coat by the door. She collapsed her head into her arms on the table. It was empty in the front room when she closed her eyes.
And suddenly, light poured through the shrine walls. The lantern on her broom was out, her hair dry. Cricket song had turned to bird song.
Marisa was still alone in the front room, but a warm blanket lay draped over her shoulders, and a thin pillow sat under her head. She wiped the sleep out of her eyes and wrapped the blanket around her tighter.
Footsteps outside tapped outside gently, and a red and white figure moved past the sliver of light coming from the front walls.
It was love and understanding without the use of words. It was an invitation, but one Marisa couldn’t accept just now. Not without her hat. As quietly as she could, she gathered her boots, coat, and broom, and snuck out the back door. Maybe today she could put it on.