Archive of Our Own

Yuuka Kazami did not run. Yuuka Kazami never ran. The world she surrounded herself with was her joy, and running would shorten the time she could indulge in it before she reached her destination.

Those who saw Yuuka Kazami sometimes did run. And Yuuka did not mind this - In fact, she rather enjoyed it. Oh, she took little true pleasure in terrifying those far too weak to be of interest, but she was a youkai, after all. Fear was part and parcel to her very being.

But so were flowers, and the beauty that they both exhibited and inspired. And it was her duty, as the Flower Master of the Four Seasons, to ensure that flowers were being respected across Gensokyo.

Yuuka Kazami lifted her parasol to her shoulder and began a slow, steady gait in the direction of the funny little Human Village in the valley she called her home. Her gatekeeper saw her off, reminding her to please pick up some fresh apples while she was out. Yuuka believed that her gatekeeper wanted to continue her curious experiments with the fermentation of the apples to produce alcohol, but she didn’t bother asking. Elly seemed entirely unaware that the ever-mischievous Gengetsu had taken to just barely messing with the process in order to throw off her results, and Yuuka didn’t see much reason to inform her of the blonde dream demon’s sabotage quite yet. Watching Elly’s face contort in disgust when she finally got to try her long-awaited final result was amusing enough. Perhaps, at some point, it would become sad rather than amusing. Perhaps then, Yuuka would have to teach Gengetsu some restraint.

She pressed on. The beauty of early autumn surrounded her like a cosy blanket. Twice in recent days, on her walks through her wonderful front garden, known to the rest of Gensokyo as the Garden of the Sun, Yuuka had spotted the goddess of the autumn leaves, working hard at transforming the trees into a beautiful tapestry of reds, golds, oranges and browns. Yuuka had politely inclined her head toward her, and the goddess had decided to leave the Garden of the Sun alone for now. The sunflowers continued to soak up the sunlight even as it was just beginning to wane, but even with the temporary reprieve, they too would soon face the same fate that their contemporaries outside the Garden of the Sun faced. That of the inevitable winter and an inevitable end.

It was heartbreaking, but it was fated. It was the march of time. And come spring, new life would bloom, and that was wonderful.

Yuuka left the Garden of the Sun, leaving the sunflowers behind. She repositioned her parasol to sit better on her shoulder and strolled down the path toward the Human Village. No true road had been cut through the trees here. What lay before her was a stretch of ground that had been packed down by boots over years and years of travel, something that had been formed only out of a desire to find the easiest path through the trees, much as a stream finds the path of least resistance.

But most humans rarely visited the Garden of the Sun. They remained fearful of Yuuka Kazami, so they kept away. Only some very strange outliers came by from time to time, and they came too infrequently to visit any permanent effects upon the earth. This path, then: It had been trodden down over centuries. Trodden down by the footfalls of someone who regularly walked it. Someone who chose not to fly. Perhaps someone who, unlike most, wanted to stop and enjoy the scenery on her walk. Paths of this nature were known as desire paths; This was a path desired by one ancient youkai.

Yuuka Kazami walked where she pleased.

She broke through the trees before long, emerging into the wild grassland and hills that surrounded the Human Village. Soon, she would see the spread-out farmhouses and barns that housed a number of humans from the village. At this time of year, with the harvest festival soon approaching, the farms would be busy, and the humans would all be living their funny lives with gusto, ready to stock up for the winter and enjoy plenty of good food. Soon, Yuuka would need to return to the village to stock up for the winter months. Her gatekeeper would likely spend the next several weeks reminding her, just as she had spent the previous few weeks excitedly telling her about her new fermentation plans and reminding her to procure more apples. Perhaps the poor girl needed a new hobby.

Yuuka paused. She stopped midway along the path, then turned to the side. Crouching down, she gently reached out. It would’ve looked like just a particularly lumpy bit of grassland to anyone else, but Yuuka knew better. Those who saw nothing were not worth thinking about. She reached out, her fingers tracing the weeping stem that had gotten trapped beneath the clumped up grass. The recent rain, perhaps, had caused it, weighing it down and blowing it into a situation that it could not recover from by itself. Fortunately, that was why Yuuka was here. Trapping her parasol between her neck and her shoulder, Yuuka used her other hand to pry the grass apart and pull the bush clover stem free. A smile drifted across her face as she laid her eyes upon the small pinkish-purple buds that ran the length of the stem.

“There you are.” She murmured reassuringly as she traced her fingers gently along the stem. “All better. Rather tenacious, aren’t you?” She released the bush clover and let it sway gently. Already, it looked healthier. Yuuka’s smile widened slightly and she nodded satisfactorily. It would live on through autumn, gently swaying in the breeze mesmerizingly. Perhaps now it could ensnare another with its beauty.

There was no rain today, nor was there a particular abundance of wind. A light breeze ruffled her hair and gently caressed her face. The world resided in that strange, liminal space between summer and autumn where the rules of play that normally governed the land were suspended. Where balmy skies and blisteringly hot sunlight still beat down, but there was an undercurrent of chill in the air. Where Shizuha Aki worked her way across the leaves leaving beautiful trails of red, orange, and gold in her wake, but where trees full of green leaves still covered the majority of the land.

Further off the path, at the roots of the bush clover that Yuuka had just freed, she could tell that there were plenty more. Some of the others were trapped, so Yuuka got to work on freeing those too, murmuring all the while about how they needed to take care of themselves, for they could not rely on Yuuka to be there to save them every year. Once she was done, she stepped back to admire the way the whole bush swayed. Perhaps it would captivate the heart of some enterprising human artist who would immortalise it in drawing before winter. Perhaps she would see it again before the cold took it from the world.

Yuuka hefted her parasol back onto her shoulder and continued to walk along the path. Overhead, the white and fluffy clouds stretched out endlessly between the vibrant blue of the sky. Yuuka paused, then looked slightly closer. Up there, in the sky and somewhere over Youkai Mountain, she could see bullets. A danmaku duel taking place in the skies above Gensokyo. Well, that was to be expected in this rowdy little world that she called her home. A human - Perhaps that green-haired Shrine Maiden from the mountain who’d once gotten a big head and tried to challenge Yuuka to a duel - spun through the sky, gracefully dodging the bullets fired by her opponent, who executed a Spell Card technique that had bullets spraying in dazzling arrays over the endless blue skies.

The bush clover lingered on Yuuka’s mind. The stem and the pink buds. The position of it, and the fact that she’d come across it while it was in need. Something about it…Some sort of memory. Flowers blooming in an autumn field…No, it wasn’t coming to her, and even in the corridors of her memories, Yuuka Kazami did not run. No, she would delicately stroll to her destination, and the answer would come to her in time.

The flower youkai counted off fifty-five steps in her head before she began to hear the sound of running water. There was a canal, and it ran through the Human Village before heading off into the further reaches of Gensokyo. Here, it was unmaintained and more like a simple river. However, it wasn’t the stream that drew Yuuka’s attention. Oh, it was certainly beautiful, and Yuuka could easily imagine a man spending a pleasant day fishing here, but there was something else on the riverbank. She took to the air just slightly to spare her boots from the wet marshland, then lowered herself for a closer look with her boots just barely skirting over the surface of the river as she floated over.

A perennial, one with pink, lance-like leaves whose stem remained close up until right before the leaves themselves, where it expanded into multiple stems that came together, creating a flower that, much like a sunflower, looked like a single thing when it was, in fact, made of a much larger number of small leaves. White hairs bloomed out from the top of the flowers, as if a light dusting of snow had hit them. “Thoroughwort…” Yuuka murmured. “There’s been more and more of you as of late. Why is that, hmm?” The flower, of course, didn’t answer. Her fingers ran down the flower’s stem, and Yuuka wondered why it was hanging on. This was a flower that was ready to disappear for the winter, and yet it seemed to have stubbornly persisted. “Were you waiting for me, my dear? Because I saw you the previous year, hmm?”

Its cousin, the late thoroughwort, did not grow in this part of the world, and hadn’t even before Gensokyo had been a dream in its aggravating creator’s eye. Yuuka had seen it many, many years ago, when she still roamed the earth. Yuuka smiled gently at the flower. “I will surely see you in spring.” She told the perennial as she floated back to the path. “Perhaps I will see even more of you than I did in these past years. My, my…” Landing, she shifted her parasol to the opposite shoulder and carried on with her stroll. How many years had she known that little perennial? A year? Two? It would likely be approaching the end of its life cycle soon. The flower had staved off death for a few years, but death would pay it a visit before long. As it would for most living things. Yuuka Kazami persisted in this world, as she had done for more years than was worth remembering.

Yuuka Kazami did not run through life to reach its conclusion. She walked. She stopped to see the flowers.

The Humans who lived in Gensokyo made do with the space they had. That meant that when they had started to expand their farmland outward, they had built their homes out there too. As a result, what had once been a much more insular and tightly packed little collection of houses had, over time, started to sprawl. Where once there were men keeping watch and preventing anyone who couldn’t exterminate a youkai from leaving the village, there was now farmland and tidy dirt roads. Unlit lanterns sat on the sides of the road and the houses of the farmers sat next to those, each one a haphazard construction built as the needs decreed rather than to some sort of standard. Regardless, the farmers themselves already tended to their fields. Those who lived in the furthest reaches from the village itself tended to hold a more open mind, and while they maintained a healthy distance, some who caught Yuuka’s eyes did offer her a polite and respectful bow. It was rather amusing, in truth. They seemed to think that they posed enough of a threat to warrant Yuuka Kazami’s attention.

On a whim, Yuuka stopped and stared at the next farmer she saw - A short, balding man with dark hair and a stocky build. He worked in his rice paddy as if he hadn’t noticed anything, but then seemed to sense her eyes and straightened up before turning around to see her, gripping her umbrella tightly and holding a carefully constructed intense gaze as her eyes bored into him. As she’d expected, he froze like a deer to a hunter’s gun. He stared back, his eyes radiating an admittedly well-restrained fear, and Yuuka cocked her head. That seemed to break the spell he was under, and he very slowly waved and bowed so deeply that Yuuka was surprised he hadn’t fallen over. Yuuka let him sweat for a moment longer, until she was certain that he was about to turn tail and bolt. Then, she spread her parasol to the side and lowered herself into a bow of her own, just slightly deeper than his. Done, she nodded, and the farmer turned and sprinted for his home as fast as he could.

For once, in a rare moment, Yuuka was forced to place her fingertips on her lips to stifle her giggle. Ah, the fun one could have with teasing was endless. Well, as long as no ornery Shrine Maidens or overzealous Yama got involved. That turned things from amusing to slightly aggravating. Although…antagonising Reimu Hakurei was a joyful activity in its own right. The girl overreacted to the slightest thing, and it was incredibly fun to watch her face cycle through all of the various human emotions that she could make.

She turned, planning to continue her wonderful stroll through the beauty of nature, but something drifted past in a blur as she spun. Yuuka paused, then turned back. Opposite the farmer’s field lay an untamed field. A field that was yet to be claimed by humanity and still grew freely. Flowers dotted the edges already, but as it rose to a hill further beyond, Yuuka spotted something rather beautiful. Along the hill lay what appeared to be sheets of something that was silvery and almost gold in colour. Japanese pampas grass. Yuuka took in a faint breath and stepped closer, tilting her parasol to block out more of the sunlight so she could squint at the hill better. For this time of year, it shouldn’t have been this colour yet. Japanese pampas grass was green during the summer, and it was only around mid-autumn that its colour faded into the stunning, almost spectral silvery gold that she examined now.

Yuuka looked up at the sun and gauged the time to be somewhere in the early afternoon. She would have to add it to her schedule, but if she came but in the early evening, around sunset, she could watch the light catch on the grass, transforming the field from its current nature to a field of fire, where the light transformed the grass into dancing, flickering flames of orange and gold that glowed with brilliance. Ah, there was also the time when the wind would pick up and sweep the grass all in one direction, the fire of the grass burning and billowing in the same direction, as if the world was trying to communicate to Yuuka directly - To tell her that she should go this way, because the pampas grass willed it so. What a wonderful flower. Truly, truly wonderful. Something so simple, yet so eye-catching. “Thank you.” Yuuka whispered to the grass. “For allowing me to indulge in your beauty today.” With her thanks given, Yuuka returned to her full height and continued to stride in the direction of the village.

With each footstep, her mind travelled in the direction of whatever it was that she couldn’t quite remember. A thoroughwort, a bush clover, and now pampas grass… “Counting on my fingers…” Yuuka muttered under her breath, frowning. No, it still wasn’t coming to her. Something floated in the back of her mind. No matter. She would close in on it eventually. Coming closer to the village, Yuuka began to see more and more signs of habitation. The road began to get tidier and wider as if the humans who had set it up had more space to breath, and the farmer’s homes became larger and more decorated. She could spot arts and crafts through the open doors and windows. To her pleasure, she didn’t see a single flower that had been taken before its time.

Soon, the great wall of the Human Village came into view, and Yuuka heard a sharp intake of breath. She looked to the side, spotting a human. A young girl who couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, and she’d completely frozen as she caught Yuuka’s eyes. The fear in her eyes was evident, and for once, Yuuka wondered if she’d accidentally worn a bloody shirt. Much as the fear amused her, she didn’t particularly think that she’d done anything recently to warrant it. Yuuka turned toward the girl and watched her eyes widen. Yuuka Kazami did not run.

But the girl did.

She turned and took off in the opposite direction without a word, leaving Yuuka to stand there and watch her run blankly. No, she was confused. Yes, she hadn’t been to the village in some time, but it hadn’t been that long, and on the last occasion, she hadn’t even bothered trying to scare anyone. The village hadn’t turned and ran from the mere sight of her, though they were distinctly more nervous as they walked past her. So…what had changed? No, that was a redundant question. It was obvious. It was the same thing that was always responsible where a youkai was concerned.

Who had been spreading rumours?

The walls of the Human Village drew closer and Yuuka absent-mindedly pulled her vest tighter around her. If people were already turning and running at the sight of her, then…Well, there was no reason to make a bad impression. However…something else caught her eye. The walls were not empty. No, far from it. Crawling up the walls and practically smothering them, Yuuka spotted something. “Kudzu…” She murmured. Japanese arrowroot. The perennial vine had likely been present on the ground when the humans had begun to set up the wall, and it had been left to grow and grow over time. Now, it meant that the wall was more like a large growth of vines than anything else. The leaves had sprouted over the summer, and Yuuka watched as a slight gust of wind blew the curiously curling flowers with their pink and purple leaves, sending them into a dance in just such a way to reveal their undersides. Grudge grass, it was sometimes called. Yuuka turned from the main path and took to the air, floating over until she was facing the wall of vines. “You’re overreaching.” She whispered to it. “I understand your wish to survive, but…you’re going to spread and spread until there is no more room for anything else.” She didn’t enjoy doing this, but she knew how important it was. Raising her hand, she pressed it against the vines and prepared to forcefully end their expansion.

And then…a voice. “U-Um…Miss…!” Frowning, Yuuka looked over her shoulder. Shaking like a leaf in the wind stood a tiny girl. She was about as tall as Yuuka’s hips, and her clothes were haphazard as if she’d been running with little care for her state of dress. “P-Please don’t destroy the arrowroot!” Her eyes were surprisingly focused and clear for how scared she looked. Honestly, just what had the villagers been saying about her? “Um, I mean - I - Please, Miss Youkai!” She balled up her shaking hands and bowed deeply, sending the ponytail that her hair was tied into flopping over her head.

Yuuka stared at her, wondering just what she’d come across. “You stay right there.” She whispered to the kudzu as she released it from her grip. Turning in mid-air, she floated toward the girl and alighted in front of her. “Head up, my dear.” She murmured, reaching out with a single finger and lifting the girl’s head up. She only trembled more. “Tell me your name.” The girl seemed reluctant. Names were powerful things, of course. She was smart to not give in immediately. Knowing a person’s true name could give someone power over them. Someone like a strong, ancient youkai.

Yuuka Kazami had little interest in things of that nature.

The girl held out slightly longer, but as Yuuka’s eyes continued to bore into her, she broke. “H-Hana. Um, Hana Hattoi, Miss Youkai…” As soon as the words slipped from her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut and looked away.

“Is that so?” Yuuka quietly spoke to her, tilting her parasol to shield the girl from the sun. “Do you know who I am, Hana Hattoi?” Hana. Of course her name would be Hana. It seemed only fitting.

“M-My big sister said that you’re a really scary youkai…” Yuuka took in the girl’s face. There was indeed a slight resemblance there. The girl who’d seen her earlier, it would seem. “She says your eyes are like fires, and th-that you might kill anyone who walks on the wrong side of your path...”

Yuuka tutted, shaking her head disapprovingly. Reputations were a powerful thing, and one such as hers needed to be carefully cultivated and maintained. Fear, yes. Blind terror, no. That would only make her life more aggravating. Blind terror was to be saved for those who truly deserved to see what she was capable of. The ability to unnerve the rest was far too amusing to give up. “My name is Yuuka Kazami, little human. I am an incredibly dangerous youkai, but I do not find any joy in indiscriminate killing of those so much weaker than myself.” The girl swallowed weakly, but managed to look back up at Yuuka after a moment. “Is your big sister watching you right now?” Hana nodded, her hands still balled up into fists. “She should have approached me herself. Such cowardly behaviour.” Yuuka shook her head in disappointment. Hana here had courage. She’d come to confront her herself. Incredibly foolish, of course, but courageous nonetheless.

Yuuka reached out and took the girl’s tiny hand, then stood and led her back to the wall. “You made a request of me, Hana Hattoi.” Using her parasol, Yuuka indicated the wall. “You asked me not to destroy the kudzu vines here. Tell me why, hmm?” She looked back down at the tiny human whose knees were still trembling. But she did seem to be paying attention. “The kudzu - Japanese arrowroot - is a perennial vine. Do you know what perennial means?”

“U-Um, it’s a plant that, um, lives longer than two years, I think…”

“Very good.” Yuuka nodded. A human child who clearly had some botanic knowledge, and had a name that referred to flowers. How curious. “The Japanese arrowroot is an extremely vigorous grower, Hana Hattoi. If left unchecked, it will overtake everything around it. I abhor the needless killing of plants and flowers of every kind, but I recognise that, sometimes, there is no other choice.”

“I…Um, I know that it’s a vig-vigour…Er, fast grower, Miss K-Kazami.” Hana looked up at her. “I-I asked the guy who runs the flower shop!” She nodded seriously, looking at the vines. “But, um, he said that they keep this bit of the arrowroot around because they use it in…Um, stuff.” She finished lamely.

“...Stuff.” Yuuka replied doubtfully. “Might I ask if you have any idea as to what this ‘stuff’ you are referring to is?” There were plenty of uses for kudzu, after all. Basketry, and animal feed, to name a few. Yuuka knew that sometimes, making use of something like kudzu, with its vigorous growth rate, was for the best. Some plants could be used like that. Others…well, Yuuka Kazami might get upset if they were killed before their time. “Perhaps I shall be inclined to acquiesce to your request, should you answer me well.” The girl stared at her, her bushy eyebrows furrowed. Yuuka stared back for a moment before it clicked. “Ah. It means ‘agree.’” Realisation dawned over the girl’s face and she began to think hard, her tongue darting out at the corner of her mouth.

“Um…Mister Flower Seller said that Miss Akyuu in the village uses paper made from the arrowroot for her writing.” Yuuka inclined her head slightly, thinking. She had met the chronicler before. An excitable thing, so certain of how old she really was despite her being little more than an infant in Yuuka’s eyes. She also remembered the man who had come to the Garden of the Sun to sketch her portrait for the Hieda girl’s work. That had been a rather strange day. “A-And, um, the village doctor makes medicine out of it. For headaches and things! I-It’s really useful when no one from, um, Eientei is around!” Now that she’d started, little Hana didn’t seem ready to stop. “Oh! There’s a little shop in the village that sells baskets, and I asked once and Miss Hirasaki who runs it said that they weave them out of arrowroot, and then she gave me a sweet because - Oh! Oh, Miss Kazami, she said that they make the sweets out of the arrowroot too! It’s called, um…Ku- K-Kut-kuؙ—”

“Kudzu, as I said earlier. That is another name for the Japanese arrowroot. Kudzu mochi, perhaps. Kudzu kiri, too.” Yuuka turned her head from the vines and back to Hana. “So, you humans do get sustainable use out of this fast-growing vine, hmm? Is that right, dear?” Hana nodded seriously, her earlier fear mostly faded. For an instant, Yuuka wondered if she should threaten her. Remind her that the next time she approached a youkai so thoughtlessly, it might be her last. But…the allure of teaching was difficult to deny. “One must treat perennial vines with respect, Hana. The plant remembers, you see. Always leave the roots, for they are the life of a plant. Treat all plants with respect, and when you must take from them, give them the gratitude that they deserve. Promise to remember this, little Hana Hattoi, and I shall agree to your request.”

“I promise, Miss Kazami! I’ll remember!” Hana told her, nodding seriously. “Er, you’ll…Um, a-acquiesce to my request?”

Yuuka didn’t laugh, but she did smile. And when she did, Hana looked up at her with astonishment. “Yes, I will leave the kudzu alone. If, one day, the village decides that it needs to be removed, then you, Hana Hattoi, will come to the Garden of the Sun and make a request of me. If anyone else comes, I shall refuse them. Will you be able to do that?”

“Yes, Miss Kazami!” This time, she nodded with determination, balling her hands into fists. Would she succeed? Well, Yuuka Kazami would find out eventually. “And – And I’ll keep learning more and more about flowers! I’ll impress you!”

“I hope you will remember that, my dear.” Yuuka stepped back from the wall and turned around. “I must leave you now. I have business to attend to, and I am sure that your cowardly big sister needs you to reassure her that I have not harmed you. Remember your promise.” She released Hana’s hand and the tiny girl took a few steps away from her, looking up at her with some sort of awe in her eyes. “Perhaps your vocabulary will have grown to match your thoughtless courage when next we meet.”

“Yes! I - Um, I mean, I’ll definitely remember!” And Hana Hattoi bowed, even deeper than the farmer that Yuuka had watched earlier. “Th-Thank you for telling me about the kudzu, Miss Yuuka!” Yuuka hadn’t given her permission to use her name, but as the girl turned and took off over the dirt path and toward where her sister poorly hid behind the edge of a house, she decided to allow it. No small thing like her could accomplish much with Yuuka’s name. No one would believe her if she said that she’d met the big bag flower youkai, either. Hana’s sister fussed over her immediately, and when she spared a glance back at Yuuka, the flower youkai smiled politely and inclined her head. That, apparently, was enough to make the girl snap up little Hana in her arms and take off.

Ah. Yuuka should have asked if someone had been spreading new rumours about her before they’d gone.

Well, no matter. She shook her head and paced back around and toward the main entrance to the village. “Bush clover, arrowroot, pampas grass, and thoroughwort…” She mused, ignoring the villager who spotted her in his path and practically threw himself to the side to get out of her way. He was infinitely less important than the secret her mind was keeping from her. “Just what are you trying to tell me? Or…Hmm. What are you trying to remind me of?” She ignored the other humans who happened to be around the gate, even as they all froze and stared slack-jawed at her passage before hurriedly finding other places to be.

The Human Village was an ordered place. Far more so than it had been, years and years ago. The humans had built clear-cut roads and paths around the houses, and they’d built bridges and pathways alongside the canal, which was nothing like the stream bordered by perennial plants that she’d seen outside the village. Now, the flora was restricted to sad little plots without the room to truly thrive. Personally, Yuuka preferred the natural look, but humans did tend to have a bias toward the orderly.

She followed a path that her boots had beaten into the ground over many years. One that saw her pass through the busy streets, which always became decidedly less busy as she strode through them. The humans gave her a somewhat wide berth, and she considered grabbing one and making them tell her exactly what had frightened them all so much. Still, she was pleased that they were not screaming. Oh, they were certainly backing up into the walls and edging around her, but they weren’t running away or openly fearing for their lives. She stood out, of course. The villagers typically dressed in more…nondescript fashion. She, with her plaid vest and skirt, stood out like a thumb that was decidedly sore, though she would have liked to be known for a thumb that was more green than sore. None tried to approach her as Hana had. Even though the sun beat down and it was a beautiful day, suddenly it seemed as if the villagers would rather back up until they were inside their houses.

Up ahead, on her left, there was a shop. A shop that could have been like all the others: A mere curiosity at best. Somewhere she might’ve bought from and left without another word. Could have been, if it hadn’t been for a chance encounter a number of years ago. If a man hadn’t walked out of his store at the wrong moment and bumped into Yuuka, knocking her umbrella from her hands. At that time, she might have done something that would have seen a target the size of Gensokyo itself painted on her back, if she hadn’t noticed that he’d held something in his hands. A potted plant which he’d been on his way to place on display, and which had struck Yuuka right in the heart with its beautiful and striking purple petals.

And so, the Flower Master of the Four Seasons had become a regular patron and consultant of the florist of the human village.

That had been many years ago. Events had happened in the time since - Events that had necessitated even more regular visits. Yuuka Kazami closed her parasol, pressing the tip against the floor as she stepped through the doorway of the flower shop. Unlike the humans who frequented the place, she did not need to take a moment to let her eyes adjust to the relative darkness of the store and strode further inside without pause. She always started her visits in the exact same way, and she caught the owner of the store leaning against the counter and watching her with a small smile on his face as she marched directly to the back of the store, opposite the door. There were slats built into the roof to allow the sunlight to break through and hit the plants through the day, so right now, a very specific plant was practically glowing from the parcel of sunlight shining down on it.

“How are you, my dear?” Yuuka whispered as she stopped in front of the flower that had brought her into contact with the shop in the first place. The bellflower, a vivid purple in colour like a beautiful twilight that stretched out over the horizon, and very well grown, did not answer. But then, it didn’t need to. Yuuka could tell right away that it was doing well, and the perennial bloomer had grown, outgrown the pot that Yuuka had first seen it in, outgrown a bigger pot, and now was planted in an even larger pot along with a wooden framework which supported it as it stretched higher and higher. By now, it was taller than Yuuka herself, which filled her with pride at its progress. “I trust you’re being treated well?”

She heard a throat being cleared and looked over to the side, where the boy behind the counter pushed himself upright. Man, she supposed he would rather be called, but all humans were children to Yuuka Kazami. “Treated very well, Miss Yuuka.” He planted both of his hands on the counter and leaned forward. Yuuka stepped away from the bellflower and over to the counter, resting her parasol against it and placing one hand down on the counter. “I know you’d accept nothing less.”

“Very good.” Yuuka nodded sharply. “I trust that the new pot is still working out well. You would inform me if it was causing the plant unnecessary stress, yes? Hmm?” She leaned forward, staring unblinkingly at him. The other villagers might’ve ran in fear, like that farmer, or the cowardly sister.

But humans let their instincts die with familiarity, and the boy didn’t react with fear. And somewhere deep down, Yuuka suspected that she’d not have appreciated it if he had. “Yes, yes! I want the same thing as you, Miss Yuuka! I’m not looking to let the oldest plant in the shop die on me, you know.” He stepped out from around the counter to join her on the shop floor. He’d been a little whelp of a boy - About the size of little Hana Hattoi - when she’d first met his father, but now he’d outgrown both him and Yuuka herself. That didn’t make him less of a boy in her eyes, though. “Thank you, again, for the new pot. I mean, I had the Shrine Maiden knocking on the door on three separate occasions because she was sure that you’d snuck a curse in there, but thank you aside from that. Ah, don’t worry, she didn’t touch anything. Or any plant.”

Yuuka had indeed raised an eyebrow when Reimu Hakurei’s title was mentioned. Even with the advent of other shrines in Gensokyo, everybody still knew that ‘The Shrine Maiden’ was a title reserved for Reimu and Reimu alone. Perhaps Yuuka would need to add ‘overly paranoid’ to the list of things she needled the Shrine Maiden about until she tried to needle her with her actual needles in return. It was one of her favourite forms of teasing, after all.

Yuuka lifted her parasol and wandered back over to the plant. The boy followed her, stopping beside her as she ran her finger across the bellflower’s petals. Once upon a time, he’d have been staring up at the sunflowers. Now, he was tall enough to look down at them, but he’s never lost his respect for them. “It’s doing fine, isn’t it? I learnt all I could, Miss Yuuka, but I’m still…”

“It’s doing fine.” Yuuka cut him off, then paused, frowning at the soil the plant was buried in. Something had caught her attention…Ah. “…For the most part. Remember that bellflowers only need to be watered once a week. You seem to have gotten slightly overzealous. However, other than that, it’s doing very well. As are you, by the state of things in this shop.” While Yuuka had focused on the bellflower first, as was her custom when she visited, the rest of the shop was teeming with very well cared for plant life too. Not just the bellflower, but the wood sorrels, the azalea, and the red spider lilies, too. All of it showed a careful attention to detail, and Yuuka knew with a single glance that he was taking his duties seriously. As he should. “I have a question.”

“A…question? You have a question for me?” He asked blankly, pointing a finger back at his own chest as he blinked in confusion. “What could I possibly tell you of all people?” Yuuka supposed that under most circumstances, that would be true. It had certainly been true when she had decided to teach him botany in the past, when he’d been around the same height as young Hana Hattoi and about as precocious. Now, he had enough of his own life to have knowledge that Yuuka Kazami did not.

“Why are the villagers running from the sight of me these days? It’s really rather puzzling.” Yuuka asked him, looking over at him with a puzzled frown. “Ah, aside from the obvious reasons, of course.” Her reputation did keep people scared of her, which was what she wanted, but this was a new low.

“Aside…Ah, as in, has anyone been spreading rumours about you recently?” The boy thought for a moment, rubbing a hand against his stubbly chin. Yuuka couldn’t understand what he was thinking, not keeping himself well-groomed. Perhaps this was some human thing she would never understand. “Right, so…Yeah, there was something, Miss Yuuka. I mean, people are always saying that they saw you outside the village, or that you were outside their house, or up at the Hakurei Shrine. That’s the usual sort of thing. But recently, people have been saying that you’ve been attacking people, or at least threatening to. I think someone in the pubs has been saying that he came across you late at night once and you were right about to kill him when one of the village elders caught you, and you took off into the night.”

“Took…off. As in, I ran away?” Yuuka’s jaw clenched slightly harder. Her nostrils flared slightly.

“Yeah…Sounded like nonsense to me, Miss Yuuka. All the years my parents have known you, and all the years I’ve known you, and I’ve never seen you move at anything faster than a casual walk.” The florist scratched his head, a wry smile appearing on his face which did, in some sense, diffuse the tension. “And I don’t think you’re the type to run away from anything. Walking towards it seems more likely.”

Yuuka Kazami did not run. So, either this person had been mistaken, someone was making up vicious lies, or someone was stealing her identity. “How disheartening…” She murmured, her fingers drumming against the handle of her parasol. “Spreading rumours about things that I might do is one thing, but…thinking I would dare run away? Making other people think that I would ever run away? This will not do. My, my…I just might have to teach this person a lesson.” She sharply stared at the bellflower, as if urging it to tell her who was pretending to be her.

“Er, Miss Yuuka, if you’re going to do that, would you mind not doing it right after you’ve been in here? It’s already hard enough convincing people that I’m not under your influence and that they can shop here without worry.” He raised his hands pleadingly, and Yuuka forced herself to breathe out slowly. It wouldn’t do anyone any good for her to lose her temper. “If it hadn’t been for my parents, then…”

“You are under my influence.” Yuuka pointed out. “In the sense that I tell you to do something for the flowers, and you do it because you know that I am right and that I will steer you on the right path regarding them. It should not bother anyone that you have the sense to take advice from someone who knows best.” And typically, it didn’t bother them. The villagers all knew that Yuuka visited this shop. They knew that she had done so for years on end, and they knew just as well as she did that she’d had nothing to do with the deaths that’d occurred here in the past. She didn’t bother attempting to dissuade anyone, but she would feel a little bit annoyed if the shop she’d put some time into closed down because the villagers couldn’t handle one youkai visiting it. She hadn’t even been in the village when that fire had started. And it had broken her heart just as much as anyone else’s. “But, if it will ensure that the shop continues to take care of the flowers, I will refrain. For now.”

“Y-Yeah…” The boy nodded weakly. “...Thanks.” He finally mumbled, smiling slightly. “Don’t know what I’d do without you. I really do appreciate it.”

“As do the flowers.” Yuuka replied, nodding back. “Continue to treat them well, and I shall continue to treat you well.” She looked at the bellflower once more, admiring the way the sun bounced off of the vivid petals. Again, something was sticking in her mind. Some tickling, barely-there sensation that wouldn’t leave her alone. “Counting on my fingers…flowers blooming in an autumn field…” She murmured, staring at the bellflower. What was it? What was she remembering?

“Er, Miss Yuuka? Are you okay?” She frowned, then turned back. “Oh, did I make you forget something? Sorry, I just, uh…” Any more scattered attempts at apologies came to an end when the door opened and Yuuka heard footsteps. Delicate, poised footsteps. Not the kind of the average villager.

“Oh, my. They really were telling the truth.” Yuuka spun on her heel, tilting her head. “”Yuuka Kazami is walking the streets of the village, Lady Hieda. You really shouldn’t go out there!” So the maids at my home said.” Her pleasantly purple hair caught the light from the sun outside pouring in as the door swung shut. The accessory she wore caught Yuuka’s attention immediately. The last time that Yuuka had seen the Child of Miare, she had been a tiny thing with far too much energy and none of the physical capabilities to back it up. In her hair at the time had been a small, flower-shaped ornament. It had been a simplistic thing, connected with a red bow and hanging from her hair.

“So I am.” Yuuka replied. “Your maids are clearly concerned for you. Are you frightened, Hieda no Akyuu?” In contrast, the Hieda no Akyuu of today stood as tall as Yuuka herself, and she wore a far more complex ornament to go with her equally complex kimono. Perhaps Yuuka would know what her kimono was if she didn’t vastly prefer her own attire. Yellow sleeves with a floral pattern that showed at least a modicum of taste. A green layer above and a rich red hakama which had been shortened slightly below, separated by a red, white-laced obi. Yuuka personally found the whole affair rather stuffy.

The Child of Miare kept records. She wrote, and continued to write throughout her reincarnations, the Gensokyo Chronicle, a record of youkai. Youkai such as Yuuka Kazami, who had an entry in that very book. And while the record was widely seen as a dry, historical document of no use to the majority of people, the Hieda were generally seen as just a tiny bit above the rest of the village because of it, even if that didn’t actually amount to much in practice. Their favoured daughter, Hieda no Akyuu, then, had decided to take that to heart and begin acting with just a little more grace than most humans. That, at the very least, was why she was actually willing to talk. It also made her just slightly more bearable compared to the other humans, because she had the good grace to be respectful to a youkai such as Yuuka. Unlike certain grumpy Shrine Maidens.

“Oh, truly terrified, Lady Kazami.” Akyuu smiled lightly, bowing her head. The flower ornament drew her attention. The petals were pink, separating at the stem into five distinct petals that shot up into ribbon-like ends as if the petal was, in fact, tongues of flame, but unlike the pampas grass that would turn into a field of fire, these were single tongues of flame that gently swayed and danced. Only a short amount of the stem had been included, sewed into the fabric of the ruby-like red ribbon that tied it to her hair. It wasn’t real, of course. Yuuka wouldn’t have taken kindly if it had been. No, a master artisan handcrafted that. “You may not be able to see it, but my knees are shaking and I fear I might collapse any moment. Ah, I suppose you’d be the person to ask, wouldn’t you? Do you like it?” The Hieda girl reached up and delicately caressed the ornament, her fingers just barely tracing its surface. “It’s a—”

“Fringed pink.” Yuuka replied, cutting the girl off. “Nadeshiko, it is sometimes called.” She stepped forward slightly, and Hieda no Akyuu didn’t run, instead subtly tilting her head to the side so that Yuuka could take a better look. That was courageous of her. “It grows in high altitudes here in Gensokyo. I’d like to know where you found it.”

“Ah, well, where else for high altitudes? Not far from the Moriya Shrine on Youkai Mountain.” Yuuka raised an eyebrow and Akyuu raised her hands rather hurriedly. “All left well alone, Lady Kazami. I managed to convince a certain crow tengu to take some pictures of it when she was litter- er, dropping off her newspapers around the village. Then, I had a craftsman here in the village create a replica. Should I assume that he deserves a bonus?”

Yuuka thought for a moment. The fringed pink flowers that she’d seen in the past tended to have just a little bit more…randomness to their ends. A little more vividness to their colour, like a sea of cherry blossoms. “Perhaps a small bonus.” She finally conceded. “However, I would not rely on photography alone. The best experience is in person.” But Yuuka Kazami remembered the last few Children of Miare, and she knew very well that they got frail as they approached the ends of their lives. This latest model couldn’t be far off, either. “If your maids did not want you coming out today, why did you choose to?” Just like Hana. Did Hieda no Akyuu have more courage than sense?

“What’s life without a little danger?” Akyuu shrugged, but there was a slight smile on her face. “I’ve interviewed you before. I truly do not believe you would attack unless provoked, Lady Kazami. Ah, but don’t mistake that for senseless bravado. I am wary of upsetting you. I am taking care to be as respectful as possible. And either way, I believe someone may have panicked just a little too much at your presence, because I’m sure that I saw someone headed in the direction of the Hakurei Shrine when I left earlier.” Ah. Probably Hana Hattoi’s cowardly elder sister. On foot, but moving faster than Yuuka would have been. Maybe…an hour. She’d get there, and then she’d have to convince the lazy Shrine Maiden to investigate, which would be hard enough. Two hours at the most. “May I ask why you have come to the village today? Mere curiosity, you understand.”

“I like to walk. From time to time.” Yuuka bowed her head slightly toward the bellflower behind her. “I’m checking in on some old friends.” And, she remembered, Elly had made a request. She’d have to stop in by the markets. The Harvest Festival hadn’t happened yet, but it wasn’t far off, and summer had just barely come to an end. The apples were likely still ripe for whatever it was Elly needed them for. “Appreciating the beautiful flowers of the seasons is one of my hobbies, Hieda no Akyuu. Bush clovers, pampas grass, arrowroots, thoroughworts, bellflowers…and now I have added the nadeshiko flower to that list. Hmm…I suppose it is a rather fitting flower for someone like you. A flower that represents traditional Japanese beauty. Yamato Nadeshiko, as they call it.”

“The flower of the grass. That was another description for it.” Akyuu replied, her small smile growing slightly. “Written about by Sei Shōnagon in The Pillow Book during the middle Heian era. She wrote about them amidst her other musings on her life as a lady of the court. I read about it, you see.” Then, she paused. “Actually, I might have…” A frown crossed her face, and Yuuka wondered if she should interrupt this conversation or not. If there was something wrong with the Child of Miare’s mental health, it really wasn’t her problem. “Sorry, no matter. I thought that I might have been there, but I don’t retain memories that aren’t relevant to the Chronicle, and it would have been around…Ami’s time, I think.”

“I see.” That was all Yuuka really had to say in response. The complicated life story of the Child of Miare was not on her agenda today. She did have something else to say to her, though. “Do take care of your ornament. It may not be the real thing, but it is a representation all the same. It deserves the same amount of respect.”

Akyuu bowed lightly with a slight smile. “I think I can handle that, Lady Kazami.” She made a movement toward the florist, but paused again. “Ah, I fear I must ask you, even though I already know what the answer will be.” Looking back over at Yuuka, Akyuu smiled thinly. “You are aware that youkai are typically not allowed in the village, yes?” They both knew this was a lie, of course. Yuuka had spotted at least two kappa and one crow on her way here. Disguised, of course, but it was obvious if you had any experience of the world. That, in principle, meant it was obvious if you were anyone other than the typical human villager.

“Is that right?” Yuuka asked, raising her closed parasol to her shoulder. “Well, feel free to send someone to remove me.” With a pleasant smile, Yuuka Kazami stared straight into Hieda no Akyuu’s eyes. “Perhaps, if I’m still in a good mood by then, I’ll leave them somewhat intact.” They both knew that Yuuka obeyed the Spell Card Rules more out of amusement and convenience than any fear of retaliation, of course. If she really wanted to start slinging around real attacks, very few people would be able to stop her. Akyuu’s smile remained exactly the same, but her nod was very slow and steady. “Either way, I do not plan to be here for long, nor do I plan to cause any trouble.” Turning back to the florist, she smiled slightly more warmly. “Do continue to take care of the flowers. And if you should ever desire further botany lessons, well…you know where you might find me.” Elly would be pleased to see him, too.

“...Yep. Yeah, sure do.” He nodded hurriedly. “Be nice to see everyone again. I’ll - Er, I will keep that in mind, Miss Yuuka.” His eyes kept flicking to Akyuu, and Yuuka decided that it was probably time to move on before she overstayed her welcome. Fortunately, she was not alone in this assessment, as the florist immediately stepped up to Akyuu. “Lady Hieda, how are you? What’re you interested in?” Since he was now otherwise engaged, Yuuka decided to move on. She had something still stuck in her mind, and it was starting to become annoying. Autumn, autumn, autumn. Flowers. Fields. Counting on my fingers. Autumn.

Outside, the sun had lazily made its way across the sky with all the energy that Reimu Hakurei seemed to display on a regular basis when it wasn’t incident resolving time. The shadows had lengthened just slightly. Yuuka strode from the shop without a destination in mind. Her mind, in fact, was busy trying to puzzle out the memory that she couldn’t place. Had she spoken to someone? Said something? Been somewhere? It all seemed to come back to the flowers she had seen today. From bush clovers to bellflowers, she’d seen six flowers today, and all of them had been autumn flowers. Pampas grass, which she’d only caught right as it was in its silvery-gold state like a spider’s web. Bush clovers swaying in the breeze. The bellflower, once known as the original morning glory flower rather than the flower referred to as the morning glory flower today.

Wait.

Why did she know that?

Yuuka’s eyes slid shut as she continued walking. It was obvious that she knew that because she’d seen both flowers referred to as the same thing over the years, but…there was something specific. Now rather annoyed with her memory, she came to a halt. It was time to puzzle this out. “Counting on my fingers, flowers blooming in an autumn field…” She thought of the flowers once more, and finally, she remembered. “There—”

“There are seven.”

Yuuka’s eyes slid open. She’d unconsciously walked into an area filled with greenery. A small section of the village that sat next to the canal, filled with grass, trees, and flowers. There was a wide range of flowers, in fact. The villagers, it seemed, had let this area grow wildly. Smart of them, for that would attract insects and bees for pollination. There was a bench right next to the wall which protected the ground-bound villagers from falling into the canal, and here sat the girl who had interrupted her.

Sky-blue hair under a black, wide-brim hat adorned with peaches. Her shirt was ruffled, both in the sense that it had ruffled frills going down the centre in line with the buttons and in the sense that it had probably been worn for a while. Her skirt reflected the sky. Yuuka could see the clouds in the material, and they did not change position from her perspective despite the fact that the girl was tapping her long, laced boots against the edge of the bench. Like some sort of projection, the clouds within remained constant despite the shifting of the fabric. A ring of diamond-shaped objects hung around her apron, connected to the black border with the strange, swirling patterns, reflecting the colours of the rainbow.

She was rolling a small, cylindrical object that looked like a hilt between her hands, and she was staring at Yuuka expectantly. “There are seven.” She repeated, nodding her head as if she was giving Yuuka a cue to continue. Yuuka chose not to respond, simply watching the girl and marvelling at her audacity. “What, don’t know the rest? You started us off; the least you could do is finish the job.” Sighing, the girl leaned back on her hands, kicking her leg out and crossing it over the other. “It’s a good thing I’m here, then. I’ll finish it off for you.”

Yuuka already wanted to punch her face into a fine mist.

She knew exactly who the girl was. That air of arrogance was unmistakable, and she smelt like the purity that only the Heavens could bestow. A celestial. She knew exactly which celestial she was, too. Perhaps ex-celestial was more appropriate. Tenshi Hinanawi, the celestial who had been cast out of the Heavens. Even Yuuka, reclusive as she was, had heard about her being exiled during the Perfect Possession incident. She had seemed especially unstable about it at the time. She’d not heard why, but she didn’t really care either. The Heavens were not her problem. Ah - That small object she was holding was likely the hilt of her flaming sword. Of course, she did know that the celestials were generally unbearable, as she had heard from Reimu Hakurei herself on one of her trips to the Hakurei Shrine to annoy the Shrine Maiden, so she wasn’t all that surprised that Tenshi seemed to fit this description too.

Speaking of being generally unbearable, Tenshi was raising her finger like she was a lecturer. She spoke pompously. “Counting on my fingers, the flowers in an autumn field. There are seven. They are bush clover, pampas grass, arrowroot, dianthus flower, and golden lace, also thoroughwort, and the bellflower.” She looked at Yuuka expectantly, then scoffed when Yuuka didn’t respond.

Yuuka, meanwhile, was wondering if the physical personification of fate existed in Gensokyo so she could beat it to death, or if beating that vampire who supposedly manipulated fate to death would be good enough. Those exact flowers. She had seen all except one of those exact flowers, and she knew that poem. She knew it very well.

Tenshi tried to speak. “Ya-”

“Yamanoue no Okura’s waka poetry. He came up with the poem while looking upon a field in autumn.” Yuuka recalled, a small smile blooming on her face as relief passed through her. Finally, she remembered. She had told him the names of those flowers. She didn’t perfectly recall, but she had found him observing the field as she’d been travelling through it, and he’d held such deep admiration for the flowers that Yuuka hadn’t even felt like terrorising him. Instead, she’d indulged in the rare pleasure that was speaking to a fellow lover of flora. “Yes, Tenshi Hinanawi, I do know it. If you speak to me in that tone again, I will personally deliver your remains to Heaven.”

Tenshi’s grin only widened, and Yuuka’s eyes narrowed the tiniest fraction. “Ooh, temper, temper!” The ex-celestial crowed. “There’s not much to do in Heaven, so I’ve studied plenty of books. Chinese classics, poetry collections…That poem is in the Man’yōshū, you know.” Yuuka didn’t know that, but she’d never seen the man again after she’d spoken to him, so it wasn’t a surprise. Still, it was rather pleasing to know that the poem she had spoken to him about had endured. “You’re staring at me a whole lot, you know. I know it’s hard to look away from the beauty of the Heavens, but you’re making me blush.” Tenshi flipped her hair with a breathy sigh, and Yuuka tightened her grip on her parasol.

“You look like a child.” Yuuka replied bluntly. A child that was attempting to appear more mature than she was. Well, few were mature in comparison to Yuuka. “And I find little interest in the Heavens. There is so much more variety here on the surface. Such a wide variety of flowers. So many more emotions to feel.” Heaven could never have the sheer diversity of the surface, and Yuuka would rather die than lose that.

“Oh, agreed.” Tenshi waved a hand dismissively. “Heaven or not, there’s plenty more interesting things down here. Sometimes, I think that I’m incredibly lucky to be here instead of there.” Yuuka wondered if she was incredibly unlucky for running into the annoying celestial. Tenshi reached behind her and withdrew a pot that had been sitting on the wall behind her. Yuuka Kazami took in a sharp breath as the final flower of the day appeared before her, perfectly in line with the previous six. The golden lace. A beautiful perennial flower with tall, airy stems that were slightly translucent. They were topped with yellow flowers, which shone in the sunlight like gold, beckoning her closer. Yuuka didn’t see them often, but as a perennial, they tended to be on the green side in their first year. After that, they provided a beautiful spot of colour in the fields with their yellow and white flowers. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

“It is a beautiful flower. Radiant and eye-catching.” Yuuka cautiously replied. She knew what Tenshi Hinanawi’s behaviour was usually like, and there was a worry at the back of her mind. Just as Hana Hattoi had stopped her, she had an uncomfortable feeling in the back of her mind that she might need to put a stop to Tenshi before she could become a threat to the defenceless around her. “...In your possession. What do you intend to do with it?”

Tenshi shrugged. “Plant it, I guess. I don’t know. Bought it from that flower shop down there on a whim.” She lifted the pot, examining it from different angles. “It’s pretty.”

“Plant it.” The Flower Master of the Four Seasons repeated dubiously. “Is that all you have to say?” Yuuka stepped forward. Her voice had dropped just slightly. “You’ve purchased it at the beginning of autumn, and it will die if you are not careful. You’ve taken its life into your hands. The best you can say is that you guess you’ll plant it?” She came to a halt right in front of Tenshi, who looked up at her, squinting through the sun. She could relieve her of the plant. Take it into her care. And she was inching closer and closer to thinking that she should. “It is pretty. It is a plant that deserves respect. Do you think it is a joke, Tenshi Hinanawi?”

Tenshi lazily shrugged. “It’ll be fine. Luckily, I can’t be unlucky. I’ll plant it and it’ll grow fine. You’re getting rather worried about nothing much, aren’t you?”

“Are you trying to pick a fight?” Yuuka asked. “I would carve some respect into your soul, but I will not do so while it would endanger this plant.” At this point, she was looming over Tenshi by rather a large amount. “Do you know what other name the golden lace is known by?”

Tenshi, looking infuriatingly unbothered, shrugged. “No?”

“Ominaeshi. A flower that even a woman of particularly rare loveliness pales in comparison to.” Yuuka watched Tenshi's reaction.

The blue-haired girl frowned, making Yuuka wonder if she was going to start whining. Then, she shrugged as if she couldn’t care less. “I guess they never met a celestial before, then.” In spite of herself, Yuuka laughed. It was more of a laugh at the cheek of the girl than anything else. “What do you want, Kazami? I didn’t buy this so I could throw it off a mountain, you know.”

Yuuka found that her fingers were again drumming on the handle of her parasol. “I want to know that you’ll take care of it. Your celestial luck is no excuse for your lack of care. Will you do right by it?”

Yuuka wondered if that cowardly girl had reached the Hakurei Shrine yet. Was the Shrine Maiden on her way? Could she convince the celestial to treat the golden lace with respect? Or would she have to take it from her? Her fingers itched. She would drag the girl out of the village first, and then she would wipe that disrespectful smirk from her face. Slowly.

“You’d be amazed at what my luck can do. And I am going to take care of it.” Tenshi’s eyes seemed to have hardened slightly. She sat up straighter. “Alright, I’ll bite. What do you want? Clearly you think I’m incapable of taking care of it, and I’ve not got much else to do at the moment, so I’ll hear you out.” Yuuka, in a knee-jerk reaction, almost said something that would definitely have started a fight, but…there it was again. The allure of teaching.

“Plant it in full sun. Partial if you have no other choice. It can grow in most types of soil, but somewhere that fairies frequent is best - Particularly if it is somewhere that Lily White will pass by during the beginning of next spring. Do not leave it stifled in that pot, or I shall be greatly annoyed. It will grow best in open soil.” Yuuka shifted her parasol to her other shoulder and examined the golden lace. It was still rather young. “How long do you think it takes to grow?”

“Grow?” Tenshi frowned, scratching her cheek. “Er…a couple months?” Yuuka clicked her tongue in annoyance. Still so cavaliere.

“Two to five years.” Yuuka replied sharply, and Tenshi’s eyes widened before she let out a groan and let her head fall back. Her hat, which should have fallen off her head and into the canal, just so happened to get caught between the arm she was still leaning on and her back, wedging it in place long enough for her to grab it. “See? You were woefully uninformed. How am I to know that you wouldn’t have grown bored and abandoned it? Now that I’ve seen you, I have to ensure that you’re taking this seriously. That is my duty. If you aren’t, then I may have to take drastic actions.”

“Oh, give me a break. I’ll plant it somewhere sunny. What, are you planning to micromanage me the whole way?” Finally, the celestial hopped from the bench to her feet, returning her hat to her head. “Huh.” She said, staring at Yuuka blankly. Her eyes travelled up and down the flower youkai.

“What?”

“You’re…shorter than I thought.” Tenshi replied as she scratched her head. “I thought you towered over everyone.”

Yuuka blinked, baffled. “Are you trying to make me attack you?” She incredulously asked. “Is this an elaborate plea for suicide? I am happy to oblige, but I suspect that several parties would find my actions disagreeable.” She fixed Tenshi with a sharp stare, then shook her head disapprovingly. “No matter. I’m still unconvinced that I can trust that golden lace in your care.” Tenshi looked like she was going to complain. Again. “Nor am I sure that I can trust you in regards to responsibilities.”

Somewhat infuriatingly, Yuuka could hear Hieda no Akyuu’s voice in the back of her mind, murmuring that she didn’t think Yuuka would attack without sufficient provocation. Any other day, and she’d have given up on talking to Tenshi by now. Why? Why was she hesitating?

“Oh, who are you to judge me? I can handle a single plant!” Somehow, strangely, she seemed to have struck a sensitive spot. Tenshi’s eyes flashed her hands balling up into fists. “I’m not unreliable, and I’ll prove it to you as well as—” And she stopped. She froze, panic flashing through her eyes.

Yuuka watched her impassively. She’d just given something away.

Yuuka Kazami didn’t often put much thought into what the people she teased were going through. Sometimes, she would use it to push their buttons just that little bit more. It always worked wonders on Reimu Hakurei, for example, and the Shrine Maiden’s wonderfully wide range of explosively-tempered responses made it all worthwhile. Right then, as soon as the idea had been raised, something about how unreliable Tenshi was already sat on the tip of Yuuka’s tongue, ready to come out in a cutting and barbed insult that would surely anger the bratty celestial into attacking, at which point Yuuka would be free to beat her to a pulp and take care of the golden lace herself.

And yet…

And yet, for some strange reason, she thought of Hana Hattoi as she looked over at Tenshi. There was determination there, even though she’d made a poor decision. In Hana’s case, it had been to senselessly run up to a dangerous youkai. In Tenshi’s case…

Yuuka placed her hands behind her back, holding her parasol horizontally. “You said that you thought it was pretty. Tell me, Tenshi Hinanawi, what made you buy it? Tell me your true motives.” Yuuka didn’t believe for a second that it was on a whim. Nor did she believe that Tenshi had told her the truth today. And she scarcely believed herself when she swallowed down the insult that she’d just about said.

Tenshi seemed to be at war with herself. She clenched and unclenched her hands, let her eyes flicker from side to side, and drew in breaths before releasing them in a huff. There was some token resistance there, but she was close to breaking. “Why the hell would you care?” She growled, crossing her arms. “What am I, a sulking child?”

“Yes.” Yuuka lazily replied, tilting her parasol slightly. “And much like every crying child, you’re yearning for someone to ask you what the matter is. For the sake of those under your care, I am asking you if there is a reason that you have bought the golden lace. If you have bought this to brag to someone, or as a status symbol that you will shortly stop caring about, then I will have to take more drastic actions. Are you so weak that you are unable to admit when there is something eating away at you? Talk, Tenshi Hinanawi.” Yuuka knew very well that when she stared at someone with her blood-red eyes, they tended to break before long. Tenshi may not have been just anyone, but she was still susceptible.

And finally, she broke. “...Fuck yourself. I’m not weak.” Yuuka continued to stare at her, merely tilting her head slightly. “I just - I…” Above them, a bird perched on the roof of a nearby building and sang. Even Yuuka knew the signs of a dam about to break, so she just stood still and watched until Tenshi let out a frustrated sort of half sigh, half laugh. “Have you ever heard of Shion Yorigami?”

“Poverty god.” Yuuka replied. She’d seen her. During what had been deemed the Perfect Possession incident, the Horismriver Ensemble had performed at the Garden of the Sun. Yuuka had watched from a distance as Reimu Hakurei and Yukari Yakumo had fought two gods in the skies above, and she’d watched with idle curiosity as the poverty god’s power had run out of control. Fortunately for that out-of-control god’s continued existence, the projectiles that had emanated from her had not done any harm to the flowers. Otherwise, it would not have taken Reimu and Yukari to bring the goddess down. “I understand that she was last seen in Former Hell.”

Tenshi laughed joylessly. “Yeah. That’s right. Went swanning off down there with her sister. She’d been staying with me before that - My luck overpowered her bad luck.” The celestial fell silent, leaving only the running water of the canal behind them, the distant, echoing sound of the villagers, and the birdsong to fill the empty space. Hmm…so Tenshi did have somewhere to live, it would seem. Well, to a poverty god, just about anywhere likely would have been an upgrade to her. It did at least give some slight prospect of survival to the golden lace, though. Not enough to convince Yuuka that she shouldn’t just beat Tenshi into paralysis and take care of the golden lace herself, but it was something.

“I notice that you’ve used the past tense.” Yuuka pointed out. Somewhere in the distance, a child shouted.

“Yes, thank you, I’m well aware.” Tenshi replied through gritted teeth. She sounded just as frustrated now as she had earlier. “Do you remember that weird incident where all the seasons happened at once?” The Four Seasons incident. Yes, it had seen a number of fairies in the Garden of the Sun grow strangely powerful, which had only made them go wild and start several entertaining fights. Yuuka had sensed unnatural energy from the fairies instantly, though she’d decided that she could just leave it up to the Shrine Maiden, since the Garden of the Sun had only grown more summery in the incident. Watching over the flowers had become very enjoyable for a while. “Somehow…Shion got empowered by it. Not in a way that made her run wild, but just enough that…” Tenshi paused to growl and clench her fists again. Clearly, proper expression of emotion was not something she had mastered. “...It made her aura of misfortune strong enough to overpower my good luck.” Overpower a celestial’s good fortune? How interesting.

“Okay.” Loosening her grip on her parasol and twirling it slightly above her head, Yuuka nodded. Tenshi glared at her, clearly expecting a more significant reaction. Yuuka nodded congenially. “What? Continue explaining.”

It took her slightly longer to get going again. “...Shion’s a bit meaner than most people realise because she hides it under her more pitiable traits. Like…I get it, it makes people more likely to do something for her, but…Once she realised that I wasn’t very reliable as a good luck charm anymore, she decided that I wasn’t all that useful at all and left.” Tenshi wasn’t crying, which was a blessed relief, but she did look rather miserable about it all. Yuuka wasn’t here to give a poor sobbing celestial hugs, so she breathed a sigh of relief that she would not be expected to. “Imagine that! A celestial, and she said that I must not have been up to the task! Like I was just there for her convenience! So she could have a better time! What about me, huh!?” Tenshi slammed a fist against the stone wall she was standing in front of, and Yuuka noted that a small spiderweb of cracks was left behind. “And then I found out that she went off to Former Hell with her sister to run some sort of scam using that black water stuff. Back to her old tricks, I guess. Even her sister seems more genuine than her sometimes. And then I feel awful for thinking that.”

Yuuka’s silent gaze continued to pierce Tenshi whilst she let her mind whirl through thoughts. Clearly, the girl had been through some emotional turmoil as of late. Yuuka considered the facts carefully. “So, you bought the golden lace because…”

Now that Tenshi had gotten talking, she couldn’t seem to make herself stop. Again, Yuuka thought of that little girl she’d met outside the village. For a much older celestial, the similarities were striking. “Because I can do something useful. Because I am up to the task. Because - Because I need to know that…” Tenshi buried her face in her hands for a moment, taking in a shaky breath, then looked back with hardened eyes at Yuuka, who watched her passively. “Because I need to know that something can rely on me.” And with that, all the energy dropped out of Tenshi’s body and she slumped down onto the bench she’d had her boots on previously. Evidently, she’d been stewing on this for quite some time, and breaking the dam open had taken all of her energy with it. “Happy?” She growled at Yuuka, glancing up for only a moment before letting her head drop again.

Once more, Yuuka took a moment to think. She understood what was happening, and she could see why Tenshi wanted to take care of the golden lace now, but it didn’t make her any more given to sympathy than she usually was. It didn’t change anything. “With the explanation? Yes, I suppose so.” She really should’ve just punted the girl into the canal. The soak could’ve cleared her head. A pause - The flapping of wings as the bird on the roof took off filled it - passed by. “It may be understandable, but it does not change the fact that I fear for the flower’s safety under your care.” Not to mention…Where did Tenshi even live? She had been exiled, and for all Yuuka knew, she lived under a rock somewhere. Clearly, she had somewhere, as she’d mentioned earlier, but it could have been anywhere.

She couldn’t entrust the flower to that sort of life. It would be cruel. And as luck would have it, she’d changed her mind. Beating up Tenshi and stealing the flower wouldn’t solve anything. She’d be just as likely to do it again, and Yuuka couldn’t be there every time. And just leaving Tenshi to take the flower with her wouldn’t solve anything either. She’d always be thinking about the poor golden lace in the back of her mind. Steal a celestial’s flowers, and she’ll just get more. Teach a celestial to take care of them, and she might just learn some respect along with it.

Yuuka had an idea that would both please her and might even work well on Tenshi. So, she reached out and pushed Tenshi’s chin upward. She made it until she could see Tenshi’s eyes before what she was doing filtered through the ex-celestial’s mind and her hand was slapped away, but it meant that Tenshi was looking at her anyway, which was the point. “Come with me.” Yuuka murmured.

“W-What?” Tenshi stammered, her eyes the perfect picture of confusion and her previous misery seemingly forgotten for now. In fact, heat began to radiate across her cheeks. “What’s wrong with you? What - What the hell are you talking about?”

Yuuka had been looming over her, but now she crouched down to place herself just slightly below Tenshi’s seated height. “Come with me.” She repeated more kindly, letting her usual expressions fade. “Bring the golden lace. I believe it would be more beneficial for it if we were to work together, don’t you?”

Yes, perhaps it would help with whatever misery Tenshi was feeling. And Yuuka’s heart - though many would think otherwise - wasn’t made of ice. Sometimes, a good deed was worthwhile. If the Yama was here, she might have even praised Yuuka for that.

Of course, her ulterior motive of wanting to watch the golden lace grow for herself went unmentioned.

Tenshi, meanwhile, stared at her in bemused confusion, looking torn between punching her and vaulting over the canal wall just to get further away. “Y-You’re talking about it like it’s a child or something.”

“Is it not? It may be a plant, but it is in its infancy. How you nurture it from here will directly affect how it grows. So, I’m giving you a chance to give it the best growth you can. You have a duty of care, you see.” Yuuka resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder, just in case Reimu had already arrived. “And I shall tell you exactly how to best care for it. This, you might say, is your chance to learn exactly how to have something rely on you.” Tenshi remained dubious, her brow scrunched up and her body rigid. Yuuka decided to go one step further. “Because while I have my doubts about your ability to care for the golden lace alone, I believe that you could learn. I believe that I could teach you to care for all manner of plant life in time. And I believe that, if you would allow me, I could teach you to be a wonderful plant-lover.”

And that had struck a chord, planting a seed in Tenshi’s heart. Her brow relaxed first, and her body followed tentatively. “You…really think so?” She hesitantly questioned Yuuka, who nodded silently. “I’m - I mean, I’m sure I can learn. I’d be a useless celestial if I couldn’t master this, and I’m so lucky that I can definitely learn whatever I need to quickly.” She seemed to be convincing herself just as much as she was speaking to Yuuka. Finally, with one more deep breath, she nodded. “Alright. I’ll come with you. We can plant it in the Garden of the Sun.” Technically, Yuuka was considering planting it in the inner courtyards of Mugenkan, but they could cross that bridge when they got to it. For now, she stood back up and nodded. Tenshi placed the plant pot containing the golden lace on the ledge behind her, then got to her feet. “So…shall we…” And she trailed off, her gaze focused on something else behind Yuuka. Almost instinctively, Yuuka knew why. It was just typical fate nonsense. Of course, she would show up right now of all times.

“Hey!” Sighing, Yuuka turned, shifting her parasol on her shoulder. On the path - Which was noticeably empty now - Reimu Hakurei stood, a set of sharp needles in one hand and her gohei resting on the floor in the other. The Shrine Maiden’s gaze was steely and her eyes were narrowed. “Wait…Tenshi? And Yuuka? What the hell…?” She shook her head and let out a frustrated noise. “Fine, whatever! What the hell are you doing here!?” Shouting in a rather inelegant manner, Reimu raised the gohei in their direction.

Tenshi blinked. “Er, I-”

“Not you!”

Yuuka made a big show of checking whether or not Reimu was pointing at anyone behind her. “Me? Whatever could you mean, Reimu?” The youkai smiled genially at the youkai exterminator, which only made the human girl growl. “I’m on a lovely walk, and I was just having a lovely talk before you interrupted us.”

Reimu stomped closer. The Shrine Maiden had grown tall over the years. Once, in the past, when Yuuka had been awoken from a nice nap, it had been to find an apoplectically cross miniature Shrine Maiden in Mugenkan’s hallways, ready to beat Yuuka to death for something that Yuuka had honestly forgotten doing. She’d been so small and so mad that Yuuka had struggled to find any seriousness within herself at the time, as the whole thing had been rather silly and a little adorable. She still didn’t really remember why Reimu had been planning to seal Mugenkan. Had there been some sort of plant involved? Had Yuuka decided to tease the Shrine Maiden by sending a little attack against the Shrine? Well, it didn’t really matter anymore. What mattered was that Reimu was actually taller than Yuuka these days, and was thus capable of looming over her ominously. Not that it really accomplished much, but Yuuka supposed it was something for the human to feel proud about.

“Yuuka, you know the rules!” Reimu practically snarled into her face, sort of like an angry dog. “I look the other way when you go to visit that flower shop because I know the guy running it likes you even if I can’t understand for the life of me why, but you can’t be wandering around the rest of the village and scaring people! Why can’t you show up when it’s quieter?”

“I show up when I show up.” Yuuka lazily replied, tilting her head up to better stare unblinkingly into Reimu’s eyes. “What was her name?”

“What was - Who?”

“The girl.” Yuuka elaborated, dragging the syllables out. “The one who’s been telling tales. She must have only reached you recently, yes?” Reimu blinked, frowned, and scowled while Yuuka smiled pleasantly. “Would you kindly tell me?”

“...Hikari.” Reimu finally muttered, letting her eyes drop for a split second. “Look, that’s not the point! Get out of here! The villagers are all getting nervous because there’s been rumours about you lately!” Brandishing her collection of needles - Youkai-made, but Yuuka wouldn’t tell - and holding her gohei out, Reimu attempted to look threatening. It didn’t really work because Yuuka still just saw that tiny version of her who’d been in the hallways of Mugenkan when she looked at the Shrine Maiden. Perhaps she always would, even when Reimu was old and grey.

“I’ll ‘get out of here’ when I want to, Reimu, and no pitiful, simple-minded Shrine Maiden will tell me otherwise.” Yuuka’s smile only grew more disarming, and Reimu only grew increasingly agitated and increasingly armed as a result, if the needles suddenly being wrapped in ofuda were any indication. Any moment now… “Do you not remember how our last fight went? Ah, well you funny little humans have funny little memory spans, don’t you? Perhaps you should stick a note to your chest to remind you that you are a Shrine Maiden. It might even make you act like one for–”

Yuuka had always had a talent for pushing Reimu’s buttons. Reimu had always had a talent for spectacularly flying off the handle once pushed a little too far. This, Yuuka decided, was evident in the three sharp needles currently flying at her head. Any sane youkai - Which was an oxymoron because all youkai were a little insane - being attacked inside the Human Village by a youkai exterminator would run for their lives, terrified that they had finally become the youkai who’d make the Shrine Maiden break the accord between them. Yuuka Kazami was not a sane youkai. And Yuuka Kazami did not run. Instead, she tilted her head to the side and allowed the needles to easily fly past her head, turning to watch as they headed straight for the wall.

Specifically, the wall that the golden lace pot was currently sitting on.

For once, Yuuka felt a chill run through her. The needles - Of course, because something clearly had it in for her today - were going straight for the pot. They’d shatter it. They’d destroy the roots. Or the plant would fall in the canal and be destroyed that way. Either way, it would be doomed. It would never get the chance to grow the way it should. Yuuka would never get to see it planted in Mugenkan. And yes, Tenshi would probably hate her for it.

And it would all be Yuuka Kazami’s fault.

But even though Yuuka could never have made it in time, there was someone that could. Tenshi, who’d been completely unbearable at the start of the conversation and who had only just revealed her reason to care, suddenly shifted her arm. For a split second, Yuuka didn’t know what had happened. Had the hand of fate slipped in and corrected Tenshi’s positioning? Or had the celestial seen what was coming and had chosen to take the attack herself rather than letting the innocent plant take it? Whatever the case, it had all happened in an instant, and three penetrating needles slammed into Tenshi’s arm at incredible speed. One in the back of her hand, and two in her forearm. Reimu had a throwing arm that rivalled youkai and gods, because the needles still nearly forced themselves out of the other side of Tenshi’s arm. In the end, the furthest needle thrown stopped barely a finger’s width from the flowerpot.

Blood dripped from the wounds in Tenshi’s skin and splattered onto the wall. Otherwise, everything was silent. Well, almost silent, because the needles were crackling angrily. As if they were facing strange resistance that they didn’t understand. Yuuka stared at Tenshi, feeling the most dumbfounded that she had in centuries. That had been a very selfless act for a celestial, and committed to save a plant. Yuuka had been wrong. Maybe Tenshi didn’t have the knowledge, but she did care enough to look after the plant. She could be trusted to learn.

The flower youkai heard some sort of stammering from behind her and turned back around to see Reimu, her hand buried in her sleeve and her gohei clutched tightly. She actually looked incredibly surprised, which Yuuka hadn’t expected. Maybe she’d been getting ready for a bigger fight. Despite that, she wasn’t moving. “Wh-What the-”

“Ouch.” Tenshi growled, cutting her off. “That - Uh, that actually kind of hurts. Wow. What the hell did she pack into these?” Tenshi lifted her arm - Now covered in tiny little rivulets of blood - and inspected the three miniature spears skewering it. “Reimu.” She muttered through gritted teeth, looking over at the Shrine Maiden. “Can you please pull these out? They’re wrestling awfully with my body.”

Reimu blankly stared at the needles for a second like she was confused about them still being stuck in Tenshi’s arm, then blinked and nodded her head. “I- Uh, yeah. Right.” Leaving her sleeve alone, Reimu stepped forward, then stopped as Yuuka suddenly moved into her path, blocking her progress. “What?” Reimu asked testily. Yuuka merely tilted her head in response. Then, Reimu almost whined. “What? Why are you always like this? Ugh…”

“Do not attack any further.” Yuuka murmured to the Shrine Maiden, her eyes piercing in their seriousness and her voice deadly. “You very nearly destroyed something important to me just then. Try again, and I’ll curse you myself.” Anyone else would have turned and ran at the mere prospect of facing Yuuka’s ire.

But Reimu was not one to be threatened, so she fixed her dull reddish-brown irises right back with similar intensity. “Don’t give me a reason to, then.” She replied sharply, stepping around Yuuka and continuing over to Tenshi. “Right, let’s see…Ooh, that looks, uh, bad.” Yuuka’s eyes continued to watch the empty space that Reimu had just occupied with an unbidden amused smile blooming on her face. What a strange Shrine Maiden Gensokyo had. “I thought you celestials had skin that was as hard as steel or something. And why the hell would you of all people take a hit like that? Are you ill or something?” For some strange reason, Yuuka almost laughed. Not because of what Reimu had said, but…The world was a strange place.

“We do, but I guess - Ouch!” Yuuka finally turned to see Reimu crouched over Tenshi’s arm, experimentally poking at the needles embedded in her skin. “I said, we do, but I guess even an irate Shrine Maiden can beat all the good celestial fortune in the world when she’s annoyed enough. Maybe it’s because you wrapped the needles in ofuda and let your temper get the best of you. Oh, for - Just pull the things out, Reimu! I’ll heal just fine once they’re out. The spiritual energy in them is trying to fight through the celestial blood in me. That’s why they’re crackling like that. And - Yes, it is kind of painful, so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop staring and pull them out!”

“I can see that they’re crackling, thank you. I’m wondering why they stopped. They should have punched right through.” Reimu went to poke the needles again. Tenshi, annoyed, slapped her hand back down and growled something about being lucky. “Oh, fine, you baby. Move your arm so I don’t destroy your precious potted plant. Over - Stop whining! Hold your arm over-” This time, Reimu was the one to slap Tenshi, who yelped slightly. “Not over the canal, you idiot. Sure, it’s not enough blood to cause any problems for the villagers, but celestial blood is poisonous to youkai, and plenty of them get their water from this stream too. I doubt it’s a big enough quantity to actually cause problems, but Yukari would really have my head if I risked half the youkai in Gensokyo getting poisoned for something as stupid as this. Over the grass, here.” She dragged the celestial by her uninjured arm away from the water and over the grass.

“Alright, this, uh…will probably hurt a lot.” Raising a hand, Reimu hovered it over the first needle in Tenshi’s hand and began to murmur under her breath. Likely some sort of spiritual magic, Yuuka thought as she watched passively. She’d have a few words for Reimu if she managed to hit the flowers here. It lasted for a few seconds longer, and then Tenshi yelled painfully as the needle suddenly shot forward at triple the speed Reimu had thrown it at and embedded itself into the grass. “Oh, hey, that does work!” Reimu cheerfully exclaimed.

“You didn’t know!?” Tenshi exclaimed at a much higher pitch. “What the hell kind of Shrine Maiden are—” She yelled in pain again as Reimu moved onto the second needle, grabbing Tenshi's injured hand to hold it still. A few more moments passed punctuated only by the occasional shouts from Tenshi as the second and third needle forced itself out of her arm. “You know,” the ex-celestial began once all three needles were in the ground, “I really think we need to work on your temper.” Reimu tried to slap her in the back of the head, but missed as Tenshi squatted down and examined her arm. “Ooh…not used to seeing so much of my own blood anymore. Magic needles…” Casting an eye back up at Reimu, who raised an eyebrow, Tenshi managed a thin smirk, “and magic hands.”

“The favour of the gods, actually.” Reimu bluntly replied, though she did crack the barest hint of a smile too. Sighing, she reached down and dragged Tenshi up to her feet despite the shorter girl’s complaints. “Well, you can always blame Yuuka for this. She shouldn’t have been in the village at all, and she definitely didn’t need to goad me into attacking.” Reimu pointed an accusatory finger at Yuuka, clearly ready to throw more cruel, cruel insults. “Isn’t that right?”

“Goading?” Yuuka repeated, watching the pair. “My, my, you wound me with your cruel, cruel finger pointing. What you call goading, I call stating the truth. If this upsets you, then I believe that is something that you should work on.” Reimu shot a rude gesture her way, so Yuuka simply smiled placidly and waited for the pair to finish. Patience was a virtue, after all.

“Okay, I’ll be fine…” Tenshi raised her hand, which already looked a tiny bit less injured than it had previously. “Wouldn’t be much of a celestial if three little needles could put me down.”

“Ex-celestial.” Yuuka heard Reimu mutter under her breath. Tenshi shot her a dirty look, but didn’t reply as she tried to wipe some of the blood from her arm.  She was still working with three fairly sizeable holes in her arm, though, so it didn’t accomplish much. Reimu clapped her hands together. “Alright, I got dragged away from a really good book for this, so I’d like to get going.” Stalking up to Yuuka, she crossed her arms. “Sooner rather than later.” She looked over at Tenshi. “And while there’s technically no reason you can’t be here, you are here and talking to her,” Yuuka swatted Reimu’s gohei away with an annoyed tut as the Shrine Maiden pointed it toward her, “So you should probably go too. For now, at least. And especially so you’re not bleeding all over the floor. The villagers will panic, and that’ll help nobody.”

“Ugh, fine. Not like I want to get a reputation as a troublemaker or anything. I’ll be feeling this for a while, anyway.” Tenshi straightened her hat on her head, then awkwardly lifted the golden lace pot with one arm. “Shall we, Lady Kazami?” She had a cheeky grin on her face now despite the slight grimace about her other arm, and Yuuka thought that the cheerfulness definitely suited her more than her earlier moping.

“We shall.” The aforementioned Lady Kazami finally said. “Dear celestial.” Tenshi snorted and spun around, heading in the direction that led out of the village. Yuuka made to follow, then paused when she felt a hand land heavily on her shoulder. Slowly, she looked back at Reimu, who, rather annoyingly, remained unscared. “Yes?” Yuuka tersely asked. “I might begin to think that you want some real trouble if you continue this.”

Reimu yanked her back, and Yuuka just barely restrained herself from slapping the girl once she’d righted herself. The sheer audacity alone was enough for her to let it slide. “I’m not looking to start any big confrontations, but I have to investigate the complaints that the villagers turn in. That Hikari…She was beside herself about her sister. Hana, she said her name was.” Reimu’s voice was a quiet murmur, and to anyone else, this would look like a normal conversation. “Said that a terrifying green-haired youkai was bewitching her. Now, I know that’s not how you operate, so…” With a surreptitious glance around, Reimu leaned in closer, until her head was practically pressed against Yuuka’s. “Between you and me, what did you say to her?”

Yuuka didn’t often think about chance. She let things happen as they would, and she preferred it that way. But…today had already been full of chance encounters. Today, chance was at the forefront of everything that happened to Yuuka, so…She would take one more chance. She would tell Reimu the truth.

“I spoke to her about the Japanese arrowroot. I taught her about it, and when she proved to be a rather good learner, I told her that if the village ever decided to remove it, she should come and fetch me. I didn’t threaten her, so do not worry your silly little human head. I was curious about her. She has a potential love for plants that could be nurtured.” Reimu stared incredulously, looking like she would interrupt Yuuka any moment. “You may choose not to believe me, but I can be quite friendly.”

“No, I…You don’t seem like you’re lying. It’s just…not what I expected to hear.” That would be Reimu’s intuition at work, Yuuka supposed. That gut sense that Yuuka hadn’t told a lie. “Uh, right, well…stop riling people up, stop giving me extra work, and stop…I don’t know, stop being so smug.” Yuuka opened her mouth to be smug. “No, I guess that one’s impossible.” Yuuka closed her mouth, deciding to save the smugness for another day. “Whatever. Just get going, will you? The villagers will start thinking that I’m not doing my job if you stick around.”

“Why, certainly.” Yuuka tapped a finger against Reimu’s hand on her shoulder and gave a deep bow once she’d been released. “Ah - One thing first. Someone has been spreading rumours about me.” Reimu let out some sort of noncommittal noise in response, but she continued listening. “Rumours that I find very distasteful, including the idea that I would ever run away from a fight.”

“Someone spread a rumour about you running away?” Reimu repeated incredulously, suddenly gaining an interest in the conversation. “Have they met you? I knew there were some rumours, but…There’s exactly one time that I think you ran away from something, and you were in your pyjamas, so I don’t think it counts.”

“No, that one does not count. I went to get changed and I came right back. What kind of youkai would I be if I’d fought you seriously in my pyjamas? It wasn’t my fault that you couldn’t keep up back then.” Yuuka hadn’t run away from Reimu Hakurei that day. No, she had noticed that the girl was a little more powerful than she’d thought and decided to give the tiny Shrine Maiden a little more of her attention. “Regardless, I believe that a tanuki may have been involved in these rumours. That, or a pipe fox - I hear there’s a particular one skulking around these days. Consider this a request and a threat in one.” Yuuka fixed Reimu with her gaze. “Deal with this, or I will deal with it. I’m sure you know which is preferable.”

Reimu groaned. “Yeah, I definitely do. And while I really shouldn’t be sorting out youkai rumours, I definitely don’t want you thinking that it’s time to go on a rampage until you find the culprit. I’ll look into it, so in exchange, can you tone down your visits here? Or at least make them a little less, uh, terrifying to the villagers? Please?”

Yuuka very much enjoyed teasing the villagers, but she knew well enough that a favour for a favour made the world go round. And Reimu had even said please… “Yes, I think that can be arranged. For some time after the deed is done, at least. My thanks.” She inclined her head. “Now, I would hate to disrupt your…busy schedule.” Spinning, Yuuka blocked Reimu’s attempted gohei hit with her parasol, then began to stroll away. “Do take care. Enjoy your, ah, reading.” She cast one last look behind her, spotting Reimu grumbling to herself while she knelt down and yanked the needles she had used on Tenshi out of the ground. All in all, that seemed to have been a successful session of annoying the Shrine Maiden, so Yuuka felt rather content.

Just outside of the village, Yuuka found Tenshi waiting for her. “Finally.” The blue-haired girl cried. “Thought you’d run off. Okay, so, what exactly are we doing?” Her arm already looked half-healed, as if the wound had happened weeks ago.

“I don’t run anywhere.” Yuuka replied, twirling her parasol idly above her head. “We shall return to the Garden of the Sun, and then we will decide at our leisure. I should stress, however, that it is early autumn. I wouldn’t expect any extravagant growth before the plant dies back for the winter. It is a perennial, however, so we can expect to see rather nice returns once spring and next summer arrive.”

“...Right. Okay, you know best…for now.” Yuuka cast a sideways glance at Tenshi, who smiled cheerfully. Shaking her head with a slight laugh, they continued on their way back toward the Garden of the Sun. Yuuka Kazami did not run through life, and if she did, she might have missed moments like these. She might never have noticed the flowers she had today. She might never have saved the golden lace from its potential end. So, in the end, she was perfectly fine to walk.

“Lady Yuuka!” As they approached Mugenkan, Yuuka caught Elly’s smiling face as she waved from the shaded patio overlooking the grounds. “Did you bring the apples?” Her gatekeeper’s smile lasted for only a few more seconds before she noticed that, no, Yuuka did not have any apples on her. She had forgotten in the excitement of seeing the golden lace and everything that had followed. Would Elly accept the excuse that the terrible, horrible, violent and cruel Shrine Maiden had forced her to leave? Surely, this situation could somehow be resolved by badmouthing Reimu Hakurei. No, probably not. Or rather, Elly would accept the excuse, but she’d be snarky and begrudging about it until Yuuka did manage to procure her some apples. That, Yuuka found, was not a trait that looked attractive on her. “Oh, Lady Yuuka! I’ve been asking for weeks!” Her gatekeeper cried in frustration. “I’ll never get to make my perfect drink at this rate!” The girl buried her face in her hands, and at that point, Yuuka noticed the already-empty glass sitting on the stone railing. It appeared that she’d indulged in some of her own supply. She must have been rather desperate for that, unless she’d managed to get Gengetsu distracted for long enough to finish with no issues.

“She looks like she’s in need of a hug.” Tenshi commented as she watched the gatekeeper. “Before she breaks down in tears.”

“Well, she’s not getting one from…” Yuuka paused, squinting at Elly closely. “No, perhaps you’re right.” She’d spoken today about showing plants the respect they deserved, so maybe it was time she showed her gatekeeper the respect she deserved. “Do excuse me for one moment.” Yuuka said to Tenshi, who nodded distractedly as she looked around at the mansion, keeping hold of the golden lace plant in her good arm.

Yuuka headed for the steps leading up to Mugenkan’s patio area, where Elly was watching her approach and looking a little bit crestfallen. Yes, maybe Tenshi was right. Maybe she Elly deserve a hug, and she definitely deserved an apology.

Yuuka Kazami did not run. She did, however, walk just a little bit faster.