/jp/ - Otaku Culture

The unrelenting aggression is both physical and verbal; a hand that may not be bleeding, but the pain was still felt, and words that pierce deeply and draw doubts and anxieties that were hidden beneath a regal cloak but here, on the shores of death, are more than evident. She's right, isn't she? History is made of events that cannot change, of ideals that either perish in the sands of time or stand monolithic as long as one thinking mind lives. the HSE is a blight, terrible in all shapes and forms, yet just another atrocity in the middle of thousands; the Village, Gensokyo, and even the Sanzu will all eventually perish in a cycle that encompasses all, even the immortals like Mokou…

Such thoughts bring weird tears to my eyes, mind barely registering as I graze by waves of whizzing golden Danmaku, dodges rapidly growing harder and harder, tighter, my powers sluggish as scrolls had to be replaced often and, little by little, Komachi-san gained ground; and if not, so what? She doesn't want to win, only for me to waste time, to give up… Yet her words keep hounding me, slashing just as much as her scythe. I have a goal; I need to discover how I revived! How else am I going back to them? To that revolution that placed all their bets on these shoulders; of all that accumulated hope and all my responsibilities?!

The echo of a rifle shot takes away my attention and Komachi-san slashes me in the face—she holds back—, sending me sliding onto the gravel like a stringless doll.

How fleeting was that end, huh? One bullet.

Everything can end just like that.

Eyes on the sky, body aches all over.

… It's all just another ultimate rule of history—of the universe itself—that death catches up to all. All the blood I poured, all that planning and sweat were utterly wasted, and now I'm dead again…

If I knew from the beginning—after I woke up at Eientei and saw those babies not covered in blood; heard their sweet giggles, not the painful wails of despair; said all those words to Suzu—that what I was living was my second life…

A hand reaches to me, and I expect pain to come…

It never does.

Komachi-san gently picks me up and throws me over her shoulders, sulking. “Why are you all like this?!” I glance over at her; she’s beyond pissed off. “Things can be easy; you're dead! Nothing should be of your concern anymore… Life was hassle enough, wasn’t it? Why not accept and, you know, 'Rest in peace'? It's your rest—your only legitimate rest!” She coughs and massages her head, eyes closing yet the way to the boat continues.

My body aches. Burns.

… Would I still do everything the same way?

All the pain, the humiliation, the disgrace of doing everything right and then having it all stripped away from you because of one bad lie. All that again, maybe worse…

Fujiwara no Mokou holding our little babies—Aki Kamishirasawa, Kuramochi Kamishirasawa—, the constellations above as we sat on top of Mt. Fuji and ate tasty food.

For that one moment alone, amidst a million others, good and bad…

“Do you want to know how wasteful your efforts were? How outmatched were you from the beginning? See for yourself, and may your last ride be memorable!” She extends her free hand to the skies, expression focused and righteous, as if trying to prove a point. “God, I think I have a migraine; why do I even care? Ugh, and to think I still have so many souls to ferry. Thanks for that—” She turns to me.

She hasn’t a moment to react before a flattened hand mercilessly plunges into her face, piercing into her eye socket.

The effect is immediate: she throws me back onto the gravel and screams her lungs out, fighting to keep herself upright and cradling her face in agony, blood violently cascading down her face.

… Of fucking course it'd be worth it.

“YOU FUCKING PRICK, MY EYE!” She keeps shrieking, holding onto her face, scythe down on the ground as her knees buckle from the excruciating pain.

As she wailed, I powered through the pain and got myself on my feet, lungs malfunctioning and sweat dampening my uncovered upper body—thanks, bandages~—, hair wild and just… stared at her, letting the crushed eye between my fingers hit the gravel.

Despite the agony that is breathing, I slowly buried my hand into a scroll.

Komachi-san's cries dimmed as the moments passed; no blistering pain from having her eye viciously plucked off coursing through her body.

Her hands recoil, and her two healthy, cherry eyes blink a lot.

… Better than others; more deserving than others…

Who cares?

“I just want my life,” I mumble.

“… Tsc, people like you are truly the worst.” She sighs, eyebrows frowning as she crouches to pick up the scythe. “Look up, Kamishirasawa—Shiki Eiki should be on her way.” And, casually, she sits on the boat.

But I cannot pay attention to that, only up.

The moon in its entirety covers the skies of the Sanzu, so close that I think I could fly up to her.

Yet I only gawk in awe…

… It takes six seconds for realization to come.

I haven't transformed.

>>7935164
>more of the same