Taking a deep breath, a man stepped up to the tee. His full attention was on the small dimpled ball in front of him. His knuckles grew white as he tightened his grip on the club’s leather grip. Hatred for this stupid game flowed through him, sliding down his arms into the driver he was strangling.

“Just need one good hit...” he mumbled to himself, glancing up to the flag waving in the breeze. He swallowed to clear his mouth and shifted his feet before pulling the club up behind his head. “FORE!” he yelled, bringing the club down on the ball. The swing connected, sending the ball flying through the air, and right into the hole the flag occupied.

The reaction was nearly immediate, the man feeling his heart take off. His first hole in one, done in what would possibly be the most important game of his career. He turned to his companions, smiling from ear to ear. If only he had paid a little more attention, he might have heard the sound of a golf ball being hit in his direction.

The golfer behind the ball was sure his target wouldn’t hear it though. In his experience, people rarely pulled their head from their ass long enough to hear death coming. Even when he was yelling a warning at the top of his lungs, everyone seemed to treat his arrival as unexpected.

“My bad,” the golfer said as he walked up to the new ‘de-bodied’ spirit he had hit. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions for me. Something like ‘What was the meaning in my life?’ ‘Who the hell are you?’ and the ever popular ‘What was the meaning of either my life or life in general?’ but can we save it for the girl back at the office? You’re the last spirit for today, and in a sentence I will never say again, I’m looking forward to getting today’s paperwork done.”

The spirit looked to the man with the nine iron, then to his body, then to the man again, then at his friends who were crowding around them. “Wait, you mean I’m dead? I’m not supposed to die yet!”

“The list says otherwise. Now either take my hand,” the golfer said with a sigh, “or I get to test how sharp my new whetstone makes this.” Before the spirit could wonder what in the world this

Ran Yakumo set her half-moon glasses on her nose and sat down in her chair. All nine of her furry yellow fox-tails swished aimlessly as she stared at her typewriter, hands poised over the keys. She bit her lip, hemming and humming to herself as the bright white page stood still in its spool. Her tails curled around the back of the chair as thoughts came to her. She began to write.

'It's said the benefit of being a pessimist is that you are always either correct or pleasantly surprised. Let it be said that where it concerns Reimu Hakurei and her capability as a shrine maiden, I am in such a position. If I am right I will be able to shove this in Yukari's face several decades from now, and if I am wrong I will be relieved to throw it away.'

'This issue is resistant to usual forms of analysis, spanning not only centuries but also dimensions. It could be said that there are many beginnings to this story.'

Ran stopped typing, sighed, and took off her glasses. Two paragraphs in and she was already fiddling around, talking about how hard this would be to write instead of writing it. She had to put her fears aside and just choose a start. Forming a half-decent narrative could come later. She set her glasses back on her face and cracked her knuckles.

[ ] Where things went wrong: the previous Miko's regime
[ ] Why they went wrong: it started with a telegram line
[ ] What Yukari did about it: Reimu's not her real name

BGM: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DuDaBgrRqj8

Despite technology coming so far, it's yet to completely muffle the sound of the tracks as a passenger train barrels down them.

This pure and simple noise has drawn your traveling companion to sleep with its soft repetition. Her head eases onto your shoulder while your eyes scan the landscape that passes swiftly by.

Things have changed in this mere half year. The countryside loosely resembles the suburbs now, though it's only a partial likeness. Farmland and dirt roads remain, hardly bothered by the small neighborhoods near them.

The sun, barely peeking over the horizon, makes a red splotch blend into a brightening blue sky. Unable to sleep last night, you merely sat where you were and watched the sky grow steadily brighter. A meager number of clouds dot the sky, spread out irregularly over the area you can see. A fellow traveler is woken from her slumber, and looks at you with aged eyes as she collects herself.

"...It really is a wonderful thing, riding on the train." The old woman smiles at you from a seat opposite to your own. "My husband and I always rode the train when we were younger, but now most people ride in cars or planes. The sky is still beautiful, though. Despite the planes and lights."

You smile politely towards the small woman, trying to not offend her while not talking to her. Sunlight pours in from behind her, framing her small form as she speaks.

"It's relaxing. This ride wouldn't be as nice if the sky was littered with planes and jets."

The old woman nods sagely as she taps her cane on the floor. She moves slowly towards you and pats your hand, her small eyes looking at you with a peculiar glow behind them. The train slows to a stop, and she moves to leave.

"Well, I'll be on my way. You and your friend be good, girl."

Words escape you as you watch her shuffle towards the opening doors. She turns to wave and you meekly wave back. The strange old woman leaves, and you're once more in the company of yourself. Silen

“I want a house.”

It was cool by the lake of blood. There were no clouds, and the moon was missing. It would be for a couple more nights before it began creeping back out of its own shadow. Or something like that. Until then, only the light of the stars was there to break the darkness. Did a poor job of it, but it didn’t need to do much more. Youkai eyes and all.

“Actually, no. I want a mansion. I can’t have them showing me up, after all.”

Kurumi was in good form after her meal. The topic of homes and lakes and vampires hadn’t come up during their dinner, but it didn’t matter. She’d found her way to the topic on her own, and now there probably wouldn’t be an end to it until twilight came and shoved the vampire back underground. Annoying.

Well, there was leaving, but it would take her even longer to drop it the next time.

“I don’t think you need to be worrying about that.” The surface of the lake rippled slightly as my feet brushed against it. I wouldn’t bother most nights, since blood’s a pain to get off if you get too much on, and the lake stinks if you break it. But I wasn’t really dipping in, and I was restless anyway. Maybe a touch nervous. Kurumi getting ideas is bothersome at best.

“No? Well, I suppose you’re allowed.” She fluttered over, landing just beside me. Sort of. She was doing that thing where she wasn’t actually supporting any weight with her feet. Why bother when you can just float a little? “You don’t have to maintain your image.”

“You don’t have to either, you know.” It wasn’t as if there was anyone watching. Ever.

“Really, Orange? That sort of thinking is the luxury of the bottom rung.” Kurumi ran one hand through her hair as she stood at her full height. Which wasn’t really much of anything, since she wasn’t quite adult-bodied and a bit short besides. “I, however, am a vampire, and a youkai of my standing needs a proper home that reflects it.”

What standing, exactly? “We all want things.” I didn’t give the subject much thought; it seemed like it was just Kurumi being herself, after all. Instead, I just leaned back, crossed my arms, hands und

Thread one: >>28011

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[X] Dignified surrender - It's over, might as well get out when you can with some face left.
Sorry guys, I have to discount this option in light of us failing to realize all the danmaku grenade effects in the last segment, and because if we were going to surrender, we would have used a plain old painkiller. Also, as this is literally just a play-fight, the MC really has no reason to not go for broke. A subverted vote such as this SHOULD not happen again.

[x] Bayonet Run

==================================

Thirty seconds...

You drop the MAT-49 and the air rifle, as well as most of the grenades on your belt, leaving just the two thermobarics and a single acid bomb in. Turning towards Futo, you grin as you draw your pistol with your left hand and the knife with your right. Before she can react, you charge, clearing the relatively small distance between you two with normally superhuman speed and vaulting over the prow of the boat, firing off orb shots with your M1911 all the way. In a lunging maneuver, you swing the knife towards her jugular vein, missing as she quickly ducks and counters with a punch in the stomach, knocking you overboard and back onto the ground. Her sword, for whatever reason, seems to have disappeared.

Twenty seconds...

Springing back up, you once again charge. This time, however, you feint the knife strike, diving off and hitting the ground with a roll. Since she is distracted by your movement, Futo does not notice the live thermobaric grenade you dropped right on the boat until it detonates, discharging in a thunderous boom, and, unlike your other grenades which explode into some form of mist, discharges a brief but massive fireball that knocks her off the boat and wrecks the structure of the boat itself, the pieces blown off dissolving back into ambient magic.

(Information added - Thermobaric charge behavior as danmaku = same, but less destructive and no shrapnel)

Fifteen seconds...

Exploiting her temporary weakness, you q

"....And before you all go, I'd just like to remind you that your term papers are due next time we meet. No fewer than twenty pages, remember! This is worth a quarter of your final grade, so take it seriously!" You professor proceeds to glare fiercely at your classmates, as they chat amongst themselves and pack their things up.

Very few of them take note, and even fewer really care.

...You, however, are on the verge of panic. Since, you know. This is literally the first time you've ever heard of this paper at all.

...And holy shit, if you lose that many points off your grade, your scholarship's sunk. ...And if you lose your scholarship, and end up having to go home...

'Literal murder' would probably be a good description of your family's reaction. They never were very accepting of failure. To say the least.

Your head strikes the surface of your desk with a loud thud, as you take a moment and allow your self-pity to consume you. You're going to need to go on the run. Change your name, leave the country, maybe work on a freighter for a while. As long as you don't use your real name, and switch ships a couple times, it'll be pretty hard to track you down. Maybe one day, they'll stop looking for you...

"...Um, are you alright?" A concerned voice breaks into your reverie, as your father's agents finally locate your new family, living under an assumed name.

"...what?" You ask, dully, lifting your face to meet the worried gaze of your professor.

"...No, I don't think you are." She surmises, eying the lump where you struck your head. "...It's the paper, isn't it? Having trouble?"

"...Yeah." Let's go with that. You're having trouble with the paper, sure.

"...Tell you what." She decides, "I'm going to treat you to a meal, and we can talk it out. What do you say?" She grins. "You're one of my best students, so as your teacher, I want to help you out, okay?"

...Well, that's at least a boost to your self-esteem.

Orders, orders. Always bloody orders. Deliver this, break that. Never time to rest, never time to reflect. Only those insistent orders.

Your current orders were to infiltrate the building, carefully edit some data in their database, and return home unobserved.

It had almost gone perfectly. Getting in had been a trivial matter of engineering multiple 'false' alarms, and then waiting for the security to leave. The actual hacking was child's play compared to what you were capable of, but an unfortunate spark had caused a fire and you had been spotted escaping the burning building.

Hiding in the forest on the outskirts of the city, the sounds of the search all around you. The security firm apparently wants me dead, while the police want me for arson of all things. Just wonderful. Right now being anywhere else seems like a good idea, and with that thought lingering in my head I feel a pull through a place that should not be before tumbling out onto a misty riverbank. As the rift snaps shut I feel my connection to the outside cut, and my vision begins to fade. The last thing I see is the river rise to meet me, and sparks echo in the blankness of my head.

My last order rises in my memory. Return home.

**********

I pick myself up off the cold damp ground, and brush the dirt and stones off face.

Looking around in the darkness, I see shapes begin to form as my vision adapts. Neat gaps between perfectly trimmed shrubs, shadows of cherry trees rising proud over islands of vegetation.

I get the feeling that wherever I am, I'm not supposed to be here. At the very least the owner may not appreciate me being here, especially considering that I appear to be standing in the middle of their flower patch.

Still, what to do?

[ ] Stay.
- ( ) Remain where you are, and wait for morning. Wandering around an unknown area is just asking for trouble.

[ ] Explore.
- ( ) This place doesn't seem so unfriendly, perhaps you could locate something / someone to help you figure out where you are?
- ( ) You don't like the feel of this place. Search for somewhere to hide and observe.

Being a second son really isn’t as bad as it’s made out to be.

Ichiro, he has First Son Things he has to do. He has to learn to smelt. He has to learn to forge. He has to learn to track requests, and inventory, and accounts. Poor guy has to inherit.

You, on the other hand, are simply expected to avoid bringing shame on the family. If you wanted, you could study alongside your brother, or train to join the village guard, or work at old Murata’s noodle cart. Hell, if you didn’t have a dream to chase, you would be working at old Murata’s cart for sure; the old man doesn’t have any heirs, and it would be a shame to let his accumulated expertise with bowl and broth simply go to waste when age finally catches up with him.

A damn shame. That old fogey is a culinary miracle worker. His kitsune udon is so unbelievably delicious that you’ve actually had conversations with youkai over it. Terrifyingly powerful youkai, at that.

Maybe if he’s still around when you’ve secured eternity for yourself, you can learn his recipes.

But that’s the important part, isn’t it? It’s the reason you didn’t learn the ways of the noodleman (shame it’s not the time for one more bowl), the reason you aren’t studying steel (making it or breaking it, they still come down to the same thing), the reason you left home (hopefully there will be time to write to mother and father) and made your way here. To these gates that are nowhere and everywhere, appearing and disappearing with a pattern and schedule that few understand. The way the said it, figuring out where to find the damn things was the first test for prospective apprentices.

It’s a good thing the residents of the gate’s other side announced themselves to Gensokyo. You doubt your family would have reacted well had you sought assistance from the scattered magicians of the land, or those strange Buddhist monsters.

“You’re seriously taking them up on it?”

“Yes, actually.”

Your response is aimed, of course, at the one person who would reliably be

[x] Scout the mountain's damages

"No, sorry. I got something to do." Marisa makes a bit of a face at you, that seems to signify that it can't be helped.

"Ah, well, that's okay then. I had some questions to ask ya, but that can wait I suppose. But hey, next time you got some free time, swing by my place in the magic forest and let's talk a bit, okay?" You're not entirely sure as to why the witch is interested in you, but you give a quick nod before seeing her off. You're left to your own devices now.

You'd like to tell Yukari about what happened, but you feel as if she would be indifferent to it, making the action meaningless in the end. If she isn't going to do anything about it, you may as well try in her stead. You have a lot of things you'd like to investigate here, but first thing's first, you need to check what kind of damages the mountain has incurred. The demon swarm seemed to have been ignoring most of the landscape, but you did witness a catastrophic battle between the horde and the many tengu that you assumed lived here. It's obvious what happened to those who opposed the raging hellstorm, nothing could stand up to such might all at once. Though you're certain they slowed much of it down, which helped you and Reimu deal with the onslaught for a while, you're positive that the tengu and any others who fought here lost. If you're lucky, maybe you can find a few survivors and help them.

As you start making your way down the mountain, your worst fears are confirmed. You didn't think the demons had any interest in the mountain themselves, but the many people who fought back against the blanket of darkness inadvertently turned the mountain into a torn up battlefield that more closely resembles a wasteland then any of the previous beauty of Gensokyo. Along the way you walk past the ruins of several encampments, many fallen trees and broken rocks, signs of battle and desperate struggle, and worst of all, plenty of dead bodies. What irks you most is that only a scant few belong to the demons that flew overhead. Many of the corpses you see appear human... but you're sure no hum

“It's very nice of the two of you to take me in,” you say, “even temporarily.”

The girl across the table from you stares. Her eyes glow with a color you are almost sure should not come from any human being's eyes. Then again, you're almost sure this girl isn't human, though she might just be mutated, the subject of some malicious ritual, or any other of a variety of things. A curve travels down her tails, like a message sent across a pair of tin can telephones—one duplicate, in case of limp string or cut wire. She says nothing, only fixes you against the wall behind you with that unearthly gaze.

You think you would like the other woman to come back soon. She seemed nicer, even if she did have more tails.

“So, I didn't catch your name,” you say, in an effort at admittedly meaningless conversation. Anything would be better than awkward silence, you suppose.

You are wrong. The gaze intensifies. You are the plague-bearing insect pinned to the card point. You are the first hint of water damage against a white wall. You are the embarrassing childhood photograph taken in the moment your eyes were closed. You really don't like that photograph.

The girl doesn't seem to like it, either. “I didn't tell you my name,” she hisses, and the two of you lapse into silence. You're silently debating with yourself whether it would be worth the risk to ask her if you've offended her when the other woman returns.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” she says, although her stone-faced expression casts doubt on the presence of any actual sorrow—which is not to say you can glean nothing from her countenance. Her gaze is just as sharp as her less-tailed companion's, but in a different way. If you are the insect, she is the entomologist. “What did you say your name was, again?”

The girl's head swivels away from you with a rapidity reached only by the most aerodynamic of spinning teacups.

[What was your name? You're sure you had it here somewhere...]