/jp/ - Otaku Culture

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I'm furious.

Working under Yukari bad enough; I'm a sage too! But what truly hurts are the things she orders me to do… And what would happen if I were to deny them—it takes a simple shake of the hips, a lick of the lips…—I swing my head, fixing my hood as bitterness takes over my tongue, eyes staring into the distance, the cover of night barely making it harder to see the small commotion inside the 'hidden away' shack.

Gee… That's work for a unit of Wolf Tengu. Why me?

Sighing and checking the hood one last time, I jump, crossing the distance between me and the shack in a flash, falling from the skies like a meteor, wind resistance burning, and, if in a lower atmosphere, would've created a fire trail. It doesn't, and I carve a hole in the roof and punt the floor, wooden boards flying like if on top of a geyser and big, bulging eyes over me—

—one moment away from taking action.

There's no need for Spellcard Rules. Not against foul cultists.

Danmaku pellets fly, colored and shining, dodging them a nature, my open hand striking a youkai's chest and sending it flying across the wooden wall and into the tree line—white, shining chains locking it to the ground—the next Youkai, taking advantage of me not having eyes on the back of the head, was about to do something—

A foot was sunk into his chin, sending a crashing wave through his skull and shutting down his brain. 2 down, 18 more to go.

Sounds of fighting saturate the night, screams of help, and full silence—all within a minute.

Carrying five lower youkai, I throw them onto the pile of bodies outside, counting again—20, no one missing—and sigh, massaging my shoulder. I give them a look of disgust before following inside the destroyed shack, not happy at the sight of wooden idols and what they represent—a painting hangs on the main wall of a powerful-looking horned figure over a mass of naked human men and women telling creepy stories…?—quickly scrounging up the place for anything else.

… A cult for Youkai supremacy and what it should entail towards humans. My disgust grows and grows, and as it does, interior hatred towers over my soul.

To exert your power over 'inferior' humans, to treat them as flesh puppets, for consumption and nefarious acts…

I close my bandaged fist, remembering his words — "I don't blame you. I do not." —, and fight against thin tears before leaving the shack of horrors, piling every adoration, idol, prayer book, and so in the main room. With a wave of my hand, a firestorm consumes the shack, illuminating the night—

Deep in my thoughts, I hadn't noticed my hood had fallen.

—my senses shiver, and I spin in place.

With the burning shack behind me, my hair buns deface and broad to look like horns, my gargantuan shadow looming over the woken youkai cultist, ours eyes meeting—she's weak, nothing but a bottom-feeder of this land…

And then she bows, praying…

Adoring an idol.

My eyes go wide, and before I can think properly, I've punched the youkai again, her face buried into the ground—not dead, but close.

I feel sweat on my nape, chest going up and down painfully, a clenching in my heart unlike any other. Why was the youkai adoring me?! She doesn't even know me, and if she did, she'd know my hermit nature! Why was she bowing, why was she—

… I look at the mass of flames, the putrid smell of burning wood and fresh blood by my shoes littering the air…

And I recall the painting.

It's not possible, right?! That old me—a me of vice and decadence; a ‘me’ that once stood atop those ‘inferior beings’ just like the horned figure in the painting—was sealed hundreds of years ago! There's just no way! There's not.

I'm hyperventilating, finding a nearby tree to support myself, eyes wide, my left hand clenching my bleeding heart—

A well-known sound by my side makes me grasp the bark with enough force to crush it. I stare into a gleeful Yukari, looking at the pile of unconscious cultists. "My~enjoyed yourself, Kasen? You look a bit shaken, though."

"You knew beforehand, didn't you…? Or was it you that introduced the disgusting religion of Ibaradouji to them?!" I spit, eyes narrowing.

Yukari, as always, only giggles. "Those are some hefty accusations—what would I gain with this endeavor, anyway? I simply wanted you to take care of this problem before it became my problem, Kasen. Nothing else." Her posture is elegant, her eyes sultry, and, with a motion of her hand, a gap consumes the cultists. "You did your job very well… Care to join me and Anon, Ibarakasen? We miss you dearly~"

And she turns, shaking just a little that perfect ass, purple dress kissing every single one of her curves, my mind promptly slipping away, a deep-seated hatred following my sane mind as that ‘thing’ takes over my body, biting my lower lip as if hers and eagerly following Yukari into the gap, arm greedily around the sage's waist.

I try to ignore the questions; the fear; the implications and everything else…

… Alone in my mind, I can only hear myself.