/jp/ - Otaku Culture

It's raining—probably the last rain of autumn.

Ran is sat by my side, head nestled on Anon's shoulders, tails everywhere around the two of them; asleep—same for Chen on his lap, all tucked like the cats Lady Remilia had around when the mansion was situated on the most Northern Hemisphere of the world, with excuses that they were 'nice warmers during winter'. If Anon's sweet smile as he knitted and placidly watched the torrential rain were to go by, it was working…

… Jealously is a harsh and illogical mistress. I can't feel cold with my Shochu Blood Flow Technique, yet I long to be drowning in arms and fluff in an attempt to dispel the cold from within, drinking warm juniper tea just because. All hard in spectral form.

I huff, changing my eyes from the man and his entourage to Patchy in the middle of the rain in front of Yuuka's garden, the pond a bit to the north. She was unbothered by the many droplets as she constructed some type of complex magical sigil that'd hopefully let us communicate with the extra phantasm that also lives here, just in another dimension. "Oi, Patchy—shouldn't you rest…? It's been half a day already."

"Only half a day." She mutters, words almost lost in the rain if not for my razor-sharp hearing.

Great…

"Are you even making any progress?" I ask, tired, approaching the magician—sparing a moment to gaze at the droplets coursing through my spectral body. Weird how I can't see my bones and organs, but can see and trace the raindrops—and look around: Dozens upon dozens of handwritten books and notebooks, weeks worth of arduous work chaotically laid on the damp grass yet neatly surrounding the main sigil—spiritually carved on the ground—, forming a fairy ring. The sigil itself was unlike anything I've ever seen—small white flames inside ghostly crevices, burning on top of spectral glass, all reflecting and refracting light and rain. I walked up to the middle—Patchy stopping to give me a side glance before resuming working on organizing the glass in the crevices—, and spun, eyes focused on the many shards of glass.

I saw millions of angles of myself. Ugh, my head…

Freaky.

"I wouldn't be working on it without progress in sight, would I?" Patchy says as I stop spinning, eyes on her. "Why are you bothering me, anyway?" She rubs her tired, spectral eyes.

I sulk at her tone, though also feel a bit guilty. There's not really much I can do, a layman when it comes to magical affairs… "I hate when this place is silent—it's eerie, and makes me think of… all the clients. Thought you'd feel the same." I kneel by her, taking a closer look at the spectral glass. Not only did it reflect the outside world, but also its own insides—a window to somewhere else and a mirror to this world at the same time.

Patchy glances at me, expressionless; pauses… Then looks at Anon and the two sleepy shikigami. "Restless much? I thought you were a Master of the Ki."

"I've been here for only a couple of weeks! For him, it's been what? Almost 2 years in slowed down time…?" I stop upon hearing my own words, heart bleeding and eyes narrowing. "It's a miracle how he didn't break."

"He almost did." My head whips to Patchy. Her eyes… soften. "Almost. The star of his heart had collapsed into a black hole of emotion and trauma, sucking itself and ever-expanding, leading to an unfathomably terrible ending where his soul just wouldn't be capable of bearing its own weight anymore, and it'd choose to vanish." Her words make my heart tremble, yet Patchy keeps working as if not talking about the almost-suicide of a deeply broken man. "Yet, it's impressive how little as lines to hold onto can take you—" The shikigamis, the crow, his daughter, the tiny one, Yuuka, Margatroid, the black-and-white thief come to mind… "—Lines were all he had, and he held them for dear life… He reminds me of Sakuya.”

I slowly nod, heart withering, the silence punctuated by rain… Every time her struggles pop into my head, I'd long to give her a hug. It can help a lot sometimes.

Words come to mind. “When you're constantly under pressure, you either break or turn into a diamond. Glad he managed the second." Words that saw me through my training so long ago.

Patchy simply nods.

My eyes don't leave Anon—he gently places the thing he was knitting in front of one of Chen's tails, takes measures, then smiles, resuming knitting. "A black hole…" I mutter. Patchy doesn't look at me, but I know she's listening. "… Is his heart still—"

"No." She pauses, and a small smile takes over her face. "Not anymore—tsc…" she looked at a broken glass, fractured at a spectral level. "Failure."

"… Hm." It's little, yet the smile that paints my face is one of pride. When you suddenly have so little in your life in terms of connections, others’ achievements—even personal victories—can fill your heart with joy.

When—if—we all someday are free of these shackles, I'd like to have some tea with him.

"M-Meiling…" Patchy's tone is tense. Very tense.

I look at her—

>>44801790
you can't just say that and not elaborate! Don't leave us hanging!