Archive of Our Own ^beta

The brush scratched against paper. Vertically, then horizontally, then in a half-loop that near tore the page. The would-be author grunted. With the next stroke, a fissure did split the fibers. She frowned, glaring one eye at her implement. Sure, she could have just used bristled end. But everyone did that. Writing using the spiked top of the brush- that was fresh! No, that wasn’t the problem. However...

Seija’s squinting eyes passed along the inky scratch marks littering the page. Her teeth ground. Even the awful, pathetic handwriting didn’t bother her. No, it was that every damn sentence, down to every every last character was irredeemable. No amount of fancy calligraphy, if she could even manage it, would salvage this waste of resources. In short, it just plain sucked.

A fist slammed the desk. The ink tray hopped up, hooking in the air before tipping over and flooding the rest of the page.. “Of course it would,” the amanojaku growled. “Whatever! I was done with this stupid crap anyway!” A twirl of the finger reversed the tray back to its base. The stupid useless no-good paper she creased over itself.

Forming a triangle, she flicked it out the window. “Bye, I guess. Not like it ever mattered anyway.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, crushing them in by a tight hug of her arms. Nostrils huffed out defiantly, and then in, shakily. Why would it ever matter?

No matter the effort she poured into it, nothing would change. She should have known better, and yet some dumb hope kept luring her back to the writing desk.

“Gotcha!” A voice squeaked in triumph from outside her window. Red eyes shot over in alarm. Her paper never fluttered more than a meter from her window. Instead, a tiny spike of metal pierced it from below. The diminutive frame of her partner-in-crime waved it about in triumph.

“Haha, I’ve—oof--” Shinmyoumaru near slipped climbing up through the window. With one hand on her needle, she barely managed to lift one heel over the edge, then the other. “--I’ve got it this time!” She waved her needle about, with the stupid, useless, embarrassing paper impaled on it.

“H-h-hey!” Seija unwound herself in violent dismay. “Give that back!” Feet clacked to the ceiling and she barreled at the window.

“Ne-hehehe!” The inchling clutched her bowl hat and dove under Seija’s armpit. “If ya wanted it, why’d you throw it away?” She chuckled louder as Seija swung around, face turning progressive shades of crimson.

“Get back here, ya little shrimp!” She slapped two hands down, catching the upturned ricebowl. “You ain’t gettin’ out until I get—oooh, DAMNIT!”

Though hatless, Shinmyoumaru still blew a raspberry at her lumbering foe from a few paces forward. Before she could gloat any further, the amanojaku skittered across the ceiling after.

The inchling darted backward, rolling under a rafter. Seija slammed against the wooden beam, and her fingers probed in raking motions for the paper. The little princess may well have been scooped up if not for the inches wide crack in the ceiling. She swooped through it, landing in the hollow space between the ceiling and the floor below.

“Shinmy, this ain’t funny! You better not be readin’ any of that-- I mean, it’s all worthless! Don’t waste your time!” The desperate fingers rapped against wood but the inchling felt safe enough in her alcove for that very reading.

“Let’s see who this secret pen pal has been!” The inchling flattened out the badly crinkled paper, ripped all over from Seija’s errant brushstrokes.

“Don’t you dare! She’s-- damnit, it’s none of your business! I’ll crack your bowl out here! Hell, I’ll smash it! You hear me!? Shinmy?!”

“What kind of love letter have we here, hehe~” From a raised hand came a tiny globe of light, enough to make out the scratched characters. “’Hey Mom’-- wait, ‘hey mom’? That’s not some kind of nickname is it--?” Shinmyoumaru scrutinized the paper, mumbling the words.

“Even if...” The thick blot of ink ruined the rest of the text. The smarmy grin melted off Shinmy’s face. “Wha-wha? Seija, I didn’t-- this is really for your mom?!”

“Of course it’s-- I-” Seija reached out a hand reflexively. It retreated to rake scratches against her forearm upon realizing what she had said. “No! That’s ridiculous! I don’t even have a mom.” Soft footsteps retreated from the inchling’s hidey hole.

Shinmyoumaru scraped tiny hands across the wood, scrambling out from under the rafter. “Seija! Wait! We’ve gotta deliver this!”

“And what if we did?!” Seija screamed back. The fury stopped Shinmyoumaru in place. For a long moment, neither knew what to say next.

Seija flinched first, turning herself away. “I wouldn’t even know where she is... or if she even...” Words stumbled as much as her steps. “So... so just toss it out. Burn it. Doesn’t matter.” Seija half-turned back, downcast, before swinging out the door in a fury. The door slammed behind her, bouncing in its track.

“Where are-! ... Where are you even going...” The little princess abandoned her hopeless chase. “This is your room, dummy.” Her chest loosed a long sigh. The gravity of what she interrupted dragged her heart down.

She flattened out the scratched latter she thoughtlessly stole. The pinhole, a short-lived mark of pride, mocked her.

The edges were ragged. The writing messy, incomplete. Between the words lurked an intense ball of emotions threatening to burst out at any moment. Every bit reminded the inchling of Seija. And for that reason, it became all the more imperative it got delivered.

“I am sorry, but the Chronicles deal chiefly in human records.” The head of the Hieda family bowed her head, and found herself in the unfamiliar position of still looking down at her guest. She raised herself up; a polite bow the most she could muster for the surprisingly stubborn petitioner.

“But I know you’ve written about youkai too! I’ve read some of them! ... partially.” Shinmyoumaru pounded palms against the tatami without even realizing it.

Akyuu squinted, before a cough interrupted her gaze. She passed her eyes over to the pair of servants nervously itching by the doorway. A slight wave of her hand avoided their interference. The responsibility laid with her. “If you had read the breadth of them, you would know a complete genealogy of youkai is unfeasible, even for the Child of Miare. I have a rigorous chronology of human dealings, but by their nature youkai make it difficult for a human to track their doings.”

“Well, what about in your library?” Tiny purple sleeves crawled across the cushion holding the inchling, until she nearly flopped onto the tatami. “Maybe there is something in there with a hint. Maybe something you don’t remember-”

“Enough.” Akyuu shut her eyes at the disreputable sight, took keen breaths, and raised her palm.

“I can assure you with complete confidence I have not forgotten a single thing.” She breathed slow, regaining composure enough to sip delicately from her tea. “If there is anyone who might know more, there is a genius in the bamboo forest you would be better off talking to.” One eyebrow to her servants was enough. They lifted up the cushion holding the princess and ferried her out the door.

“Wait! Lemme down! For Seija’s sake, I really need-”

“And this amonjaku, she really needs to contact her mother?” Eirin folded the letter-- if it could even be called that-- back into fourths small enough for her guest to hold.

Shinmyoumaru held it with some form of reverence, before sliding it over head but under the bowl she wore for a hat. “Absolutely! I get the feeling-- I mean, I am certain they haven’t been able to talk in a long time. And if Seija- I mean, if my friend could meet her... I think she would finally... maybe... show a smile.”

A snort wound its way up Eirin’s nose. One she chose to release as a single, derisive chuckle. The door creaked. Reisen chose a good time to interrupt.

The doctor took the patient’s chart from her hands and scanned it. No unusual developments. Symptoms decreasing. “Emotional developments cannot be so easily calculated.” The doctor continued the bland conversation while checking the patient’s vitals readout. “Such a meeting could become more of a detriment to this ‘friend’ than learning to conduct herself in a more civilized fashion.” Recovery would likely be delayed by the humid weather, but within estimates she provided the patient’s family.

“Yeah but... Sei-- my friend deserves the chance! Good or bad, it’s not fair she doesn’t know her own mom!” Fists flapping out from her sleeves, the inchling hopped atop Eirin’s clipboard. “So you gotta tell me where she is!”

The doctor blinked, taken back by Shinmyounaru's audacity. She lowered the chart so, at the least, it would be level for her cantankerous guest. “Be that as it may, I cannot tell you where that is.”

“What?! But you’re the big brain of the moon aren’t you?! Even Akyuu recommended you!”

“I did not agree to that title.”

Patience worn, Eirin tilted the clipboard down until the hopping mad princess slid over to the desk instead. “Even then, intelligence alone does not grant knowledge.” She started marking down her notes with the little princess removed. “I simply have not come across the information you seek. At best, I can form theories on possibilities-”

“Then tell me!” Shinmyoumaru fixed her fiercest glare upward at her foe. “I’ll go the ends of the earth to find her!”

Eirin tapped part of the chart for emphasis while handing it back to Reisen. Returning her attention to the inchling, she guessed the needle she waggled was supposed to be threatening. But from her words, Eirin formed a way to both shoo her off and antagonize someone who deserved it.

“Funny you should say that. There is someone at the border of Gensokyo who makes it her business to know everyone coming and going.” A smirk creaked upon the doctor’s lips. “Reaching her is intentionally difficult, but I know a few ways.”

“For starters, how did you get in here?” One violet eye opened at the intruder standing atop her pillow. “Second, do you think me daft? Referring to her as ‘your friend’ is not fooling anyone.” Her body yet lagged from slumber, but her brain (and tongue) needed no such delay.

“The big brain doctor told me you’d be hiding out here in the mountains!”

Yukari made a mental note to shift a few mountains around and also logged that the Lunarians needed another good pranking.

“And it shouldn’t matter who I am talking about! She needs her mother!” The inchling shouted point blank into an ear.

Yukari patted down a yawn until the inchling calmed down. “When it is someone who has caused as many problems as her, it absolutely does matter.” She made a show of a long stretch of her arms, before sliding back under the covers and turning over to face away. “I have no reason to help her. And I can think of a dozen reasons I should enjoy her unhappiness.” She closed her eyes, faking an immediate snore.

Undeterred, the princess vaulted over the tangle of blonde hair to the other side. Gripping firm an eyelash, she pulled the eye’s curtain up and raised her mallet high. “Then I’ll make a reason! I’ll awaken every last chair, cup, and jar in this house, and you won't know peace and quiet until you help me!”

A growl rumbled in Yukari’s throat, that slowly died off into a groan. She wouldn’t admit it any more than that, but the inch-high interloper succeeded in making it more annoying to not address her. She yawned harder, enough to knock Shinmyoumaru on her butt, before rising enough to sit on her own. “Oh, settle down. Seija Kijin is enough trouble on her own. I fear her bad manners are rubbing off on you.”

“Yeah, well... maybe meeting her mother will give her some good manners!”

Yukari dropped a hand through a gap, grabbing a bread roll from a kitchen to munch on. “I think a youkai of good manners could clobber her in the face and nothing would come of it.” She giggled at at her joke, a few crumbs falling loose.

Shinmyounaru gave thought to the scene Yukari had created and grimaced at its plausibility.

“But...” the princess began diplomatically, “if she never met her own mother, that might just be why she’s... uhh.. well... difficult...”

That only emboldened the giggles. “You do realize she gets off on being the contrarian, right? The fact everyone else has a mother probably fills her with joy that she does not.” With that sagest of wisdom, Yukari considered the conversation done.

The tears welling up in the inchling’s eyes spoke otherwise. “No... that isn’t true. Even...” Even a sniffle interrupted her speech. “Even if she won’t show it... I know she misses her. Probably.”

“Probably?” Yukari raised an eyebrow.

“I just know it. In my gut. That sick, empty feeling.” Shinmyoumaru squat down, rubbing a wide sleeve across her eyes. “No one deserves that.”

Yukari squinted down. Any more and the inchling might start making a puddle of tears on her pillow. That would make it take even longer for her to get back to sleep! What a bother.

“Oh, very well.” She hated her for it, but the diminutive princess further succeeded in wrangling a straight answer out of her. “As much as I have just cause to ignore your request, I have to decline for another reason. I simply do not know from whence your amanojaku spawned.”

“Ms. Yagokoro said the same thing. But...” A wet glare flashed upward. “She also told me you would lie about it.”

Yukari held up her palms. “Oh heavens no.” Two pranks for the Lunarian squatters then. Or one really good one. Her mind swirled with possibilities, but she focused back to the present. “If I could get you out of my hair by dropping that letter through a gap, I would do it in an instant.”

“But, you should know-”

“Also, you are on my hair, by the by.”

“Oh! Sorry!” Shinmyoumaru hopped off the locks of hair she stood upon. “But if you don’t know, then who does?”

“Besides her direct parents, the answer could be no one.” With her hair freed, the sage swept it behind her and started to tie it back. Sleep was, sadly, over for the rest of the afternoon. “You could spend the rest of your lifetime searching and never find her. You could find her and she simply denies it. Who is to say?”

Shinmyoumaru, try as she might to stay strong, couldn't hold her sniffles back. “But... if she denied it... that.... that wouldn’t be fair...” Shinmyoumaru sunk down, lowering the bowl over her eyes.

“Life is rarely fair.” Yukari rose, shedding off the sheets. She didn’t worry about being observed; her partially clothed form was about the last thing the intruder would be paying attention to. “And, despite what the Yama might claim, death is perhaps less fair.” Yukari glanced at a pink butterfly hairpin on her vanity, before selecting a more mundane one. “But for someone as disagreeable as her, I think she is relatively lucky.”

“What makes you say that?” Soft, small words snuck out from under the bowl.

“Oh,” Yukari ducked down. One finger poked up the bowl, catching the inchling’s lavender eyes with her own proud, violet pair. Injecting a bit of mirth, she answered, “I think she’s found something better.”

“Can I open my eyes yet?”

“No.”

“How about now?”

“Nope, but almost!”

“Ugh, I’m not in the mood Shinmy.” Seija plodded along by the pull of the large-but-still-pretty-short princess, dragging her forward by the hand. “Isn’t this just the kitchen anyway?” The flour stains on Shinmy’s dress were kind of a giveaway.

“Stop peeking!” Her guide pouted.That only made her want to cheat more. But through one more door it no longer mattered.

“Okay, ta-da!” Shimny skipped forward to the table, and spread her arms wide. The two girls with blue hair behind shared none of the enthusiasm. One, resplendent in beauty woefully out of place, stood with arms crossed and cross face pointed off to a window. The other, radiating in squalor, openly drooled at the cake upon the table. A cake festooned with enough icing and candles to make it’s purpose clear.

Seija pinched her brow. “It is not my birthday, Shinmy.”

“Exactly! It’s your Not-Birthday!” She tossed up some confetti in the air. Peach-hat girl fussily waved them away from herself. The tattered girl tried catching some on her tongue.

Seija clenched her teeth. A burning feeling crept up from her heart. She beat it back down. “Why are they even here?” An accusatory finger flung out to the hangers-on.

“Well of course they ought to be here here!” Shinmy gleamed.

“I am just here because I owe short stuff a favor.” Tenshi scoffed, casting one disapproving eye at Seija before raising up her chin with a “Hmph!”

“Uh, I heard there was a cake. We’re eating that, right? Can I cut it? Look I found your knives!” Shion hovered a particularly large one over the candles.

The burn spread down her arms. Her hands gripped in fists to hold it back. She forced her brows to furrow. She flared her teeth. “They aren’t my friends! I don’t have any friends!”

That should have shot down Shinmy’s stupid plan. But instead the runt giggled with a smirk. Where did she learn that from?

“Hehehe, you’re right. They are family! And they just hate being here.”

Shinmy was being so damn obvious about it. That squeezed Seija’s chest tight. Her whole body was warming up. She had to press it down. She flung her head off to one side. “And what’s all that over there? A bunch of gifts?” She gestured at the second table covered in boxes and toys.

“Your not-presents, silly! I have to give some of these back, so we gotta have all the fun with them now. See, look at this one!” Shinmy ran over to the table and held up a long, thin box.

“... ‘Reversi’?” Seija slapped a palm to her face. It was all she could do to stem the warmth boiling up from her lungs. “Did you... seriously think I’d like it just because of some dumb name?”

“Yup! And I hear it’s not even that fun!” Shinmy laughed.

Seija’s hand slid down her face. “D-damnit, Shinmy.” She couldn’t hold it back any more. The cloak of misery she wanted to cling to burned away. A long, belly shaking laugh erupted from her mouth. “Forget that dumb game for a second. I want some cake.”

Shinmy whooped in excitement. Shion already started cutting herself a massive slice before Seija could blow out the candles. Tenshi shuddered in anger. “Ugh, this is the worst party ever.”

The surreal scene made Seija laugh all the harder. The day only got better, as it turned out for all her bragging the celestial was just terrible at Reversi. Losing to Seija of all creatures only magnified her frustration, leading to rematch after rematch. By the end she flipped the while table in frustration.

Seija, true to her nature, congratulated her for it-- only for the stuck-up snob to one-up herself by stomping the ceiling until it cracked.

Hours later, Shion slumped in a corner, patting her engorged stomach containing more than half the cake. Tenshi finally started reading some of the rules to the other games, desperate for something to prove her superiority with. Shinmyoumaru, the architect of it all, laid against Seija’s arm breathing softly.

The amanojaku ascended slowly, careful to let the inchling slide down to sleep atop the seat cushion. With one look back into the room and a smile she couldn’t shake from her face, Seija snuck away.

Seija Kijin leaned back from her seat, dropping the brush. What else was there to say? She looked out at the stars hanging far outside her window for an answer.

She sighed.

The warmth still clung her, no matter how much she tried. Just trying to scowl brought back memories of Tenshi’s hilarious tantrums. Or worse, the bright smile on Shinmy’s face. Instead, she resigned herself to the dumb smile on her own face. Folding the paper into a triangle, she flung it out out the window. It fluttered a few meters, before diving downward.

“Hmph.” Seija pointed an index finger down at it, then flicked her hand upward. The white paper twirled before falling upward instead. Seija watched, chin resting in a hand, until it disappeared in the bright silhouette of the full moon.