/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>45054707 (5/5—p2)
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Only five steps before I reach the top, and my body freezes. The cold autumn wind blows severe, winter on the horizon—further ahead, sounds of wood being hammered. With my ears drooped and legs trembling, I look at the neatly wrapped parcel in my hands and reminisce…

Meeting Ms. Reimu was… weird.

Years ago, I didn't think much about her, but as time passed, she became like a shadowy villain people whispered in the background; then a wrath-filled monster; a wandering, pitiful corpse—but those were cloak and dagger rumors, things a wise girl should ignore. Then we met, and she smiled, said wise things, and showed a sad that crushed my heart.

Mr. Anon's words linger in my mind and fill me with rage, fading away when Ms. Reimu's actions return, just to restart—this nauseating loop has been draining my energy like a hole, always getting bigger…

Breathing in and breathing out, I pretend Mr. Anon just hugged me, and, with that boost of confidence—yet with quivering legs and wide eyes—I walk up the rest of the way. The Hakurei Shrine looks bad… But there's a clear effort to change that. The Torii gate was cleaned and recently repaired, with patches of wood awaiting to be painted; the path leading to the shrine was reworked with flat stones, the sides pruned, and, on the roof, Ms. Reimu is hammering something, periodically taking a nail and repeating the process—a toolbox by her side.

I watch, tense, before walking forward, noticing how the windows and sliding doors looked new—to the side, close to the shrine of offerings, a wore-down axe, and a pile of hardwood.

The wind chimes sing when I reach the shrine, the cleaned donation box in front of me—looking inside, I see it's empty, so I reach for a 100 yen coin in my pocket and throw it in—

“Heh, your patronage is much appreciated!” I spin, red—hiding the parcel behind me—when Ms. Reimu's voice comes from behind, her miko outfit exchanged for something more heavy-duty: boots, gloves, a skirt, and a shirt too long for her, looking more like something a man would use— “Sorry, Chen, I'm too old for you.” She jokes, grinning, and I fume with embarrassment.

“G-Good morning, Ms. Reimu—s-sorry for staring…” She just laughs louder, and I grasp for anything. “U-Uh… You're renovating the shrine, huh?” Her eyes squint, trying to look at what's behind me, but I conceal it a bit more.

With a raised eyebrow, she walks inside, and, not wanting to fall behind, I follow. “Yup—It's all Hana's when I leave, so I want it to look new and, well, like a good place to live and… Raise a family, if she ever feels like it.” She shrugs, and I can't see her eyes, but there's something in the air that feels heavy, like guilt. The inside of the shrine is practically empty; only the essentials like kitchenware and the kotatsu… The whole place looks spotless, too.

“What do you mean by leave? Are you going on a trip?” I ask innocently, sitting down on the kotatsu.

She laughs a bit, “No—I'm talking about when I die.” Her voice is casual as she gathers the ingredients for tea…

My heart sinks, and, in the silence, I feel cold. This feeling… is compared to that one when I first cried in her arms: It's so otherworldly, impossible to comprehend, and somehow makes me so unbelievably sad…

Death shouldn't be mentioned like that. It's an event that hurts everyone, and with the short lifespan of humans it's even worse—I try not to think that Mr. Anon will die much earlier than me—stop! Don’t cry now! “B-But it's gonna take a while, right? Your hair is not even white yet, Ms. Reimu!” My fingers holding the parcel tighten with her following silence, but soon she sighs and slightly nods—it doesn't help my little heart—smile weary as she puts down the tea set and fills two cups.

“So, Chen, why did you come here today? Yukari is making you do errands now?” Her smirk is supposed to lighten the mood, eyes on the parcel, but I don't feel light.

The words get bogged in my throat, just like that day in her arms, and it's hard to man up the courage to say, “No, I… Ms. Reimu…” Her eyebrows rise, and it's just so, so hard—I think I'm trembling, and—oh, this heat on my face—am I crying? Why am I crying? I just need to talk to her; it's not that hard—but of course it is! She's trying to redeem her sins! To bring this up… It could help; it could—but she can get so mad too and—

A gentle hand brushes my face, and my restless thoughts come to a halt. Ms. Reimu's smile is simple and easy, yet it shines unlike the one of just now, and—with her so close and wearing a sleeveless shirt, I can see many scars on her arms, scars as old as me—her voice a choir; “Hey, kozo, calm down: whatever you want to say… I won't get mad, okay?”

Eyes wide, crying and frowning. I nod. “… M-Mr. Anon told me about you two. The things you did…” Liquid courage courses my blood. “I wanted to hear it from you, Ms. Reimu, just—

We look at each other's eyes…

“… Why?”

Hers eyes look dead, and I fear they're the truth.