/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>46406742
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The night howls with an odd frigidity, and I mumble as I look away from my book on the counter—returning to the page I was on before the wind flipped them: A novella about a man trapped in a cage by an evil witch. A confusing yet morbid read; the more you read, the more disgusted you are, and the more disgusted you are, the more you want to read. Fascinating concept—to the front window of the Kourindou. The moon had vanished behind thick, dark clouds, which I swear I hadn't seen in the distance this morning… Hm, maybe a worsening winter caused it through pressure changes? Or maybe just a torrential thunderstorm? Either way, I should go to sleep soon…

After finishing this read, of course.

Forgetting the mundane matter and returning to the page where the enslaved beast fights her inner demons, I turn my eyes away from the window just as another violent gust of wind knocks…

… And, for a second, the Kourindou swims on an aurora borealis.

My body goes immediately alert as I gawk towards the sudden beacon of light, a confusing wave of gratitude washing over me—’thank you for taking care of me’—, its origins unknown beyond the hallow light that lasted just enough for a blink…

Like that, it was gone—not a trace of whatever had created enough light to equal the sun itself.

It was as if it hadn't happened.

Wide-eyed and uncaring of my glasses about to slip off my nose, I approach the window and almost shyly peek out onto the village and its ever-changing beauty, the wind persistently growling to the point it shakes the Kourin… Perhaps it's best to close the windows tonight.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

I cannot help but wonder if I had just daydreamed about spellcards or something… I hope Marisa is okay.

Though, being so close to the shelves by the window, one detail reaches me—one I slowly comprehend, sighing then: Something was missing.

Something that was there, laying calmly and proudly for two decades, almost as if waiting…

… No, probably stuff in my head. Same for that light. The markets of the HSE have made me put in immense work to just keep things afloat, so I'm likely more tired than I think. Perhaps I just forgot where I put it.

Yes, that seems right.

With the windows closed, I return to my book, now with a mental note for tomorrow morning: search where I put Kusanagi-no-tsurugi.

———

It's a weird sense to transform. I know the next time I blink and these clothes of mine are a heavenly blue again, these horns fade away; my memory will be mostly lost. Such is the fate of the one who wasn't born a hakutaku but was instead cursed to be one. Rather now, it's no curse; it's power I'll use to protect my family and Gensokyo.

My eyes lift from the burning blue moon to Mokou, her eyes full of stupor and awe, a smile birthing in my lips…

It soon fades as duty overwhelms me like a waterfall. Energy is of utmost necessity for the use of my powers: I'll be writing each individual second of the lives of my children in case the revolution fails and I end up dying, a real possibility after Mr. Hieda's display—that on top of Seiga's demise… I waste not a second more and turn towards the setup, my new tail following my movements like a veil as I kneeled on the little towel, right-hand grasping the pen and, tenderly, laying its tip on the writing silk.

I take a deep breath, analyzing again the tangents of what I'll be writing.

Since I am powerless to write Mokou's future, the twins' caregiver will be called ‘Mother’; it is not a loophole, but it will ensure that they’re protected. Next, Seiga's actions must be constant and not frowned upon, so her behavior—for as much as it hurts me—will be the same until I can find a suitable location where we can silently assassinate her and don't have it traced back to me or Mokou.

The moon of fire shines above, my tail setting down…

… I move my hand and begin writing.

Five seconds in, smoke rises as the friction becomes unbearable and the rate of writing thousands of words per second begins tearing the skin off my arm. The scroll, ostensibly infinite, is pulled and disappears as it meets its ending; that's also its start—akin to Uroboros—a sizzling sound as the silk moves like a raging river, hand going up and down the page with movements nigh impossible to accurately follow.

Each second of three lives being created, so much information in so little time that my brain would collapse if I'd to comprehend even one percent of it.

Blood baptizes the epic, but it doesn’t compromise the future of my children or Seiga's demise…

Sweating profusely, eyes narrowing and excruciating pain but a buzz in my ears, I continue for what seems like hours, maybe billions of words written in the process, my trembling writing hand and wrist shredded of all its skin.

But it doesn't matter—the pain, the struggle, the maims…

Aki and Mochi are my heart; Mokou my support; Gensokyo, my purpose.

Make it a good place—a better place than now…

… For them, no cost is too great.