Today is not a good day.

...

I made it home.

It took me a long time to recover enough to pick up a pen.

Minutes, maybe hours passed while I just sat there and tried to breathe.

My heart felt like it would explode if I lost concentration for just one second.

My heartbeat felt too fast, more like a continuous stream rather than individual beats.

But, here I am now.

...

I don't know how one should write in a diary.

I've mostly been pacing back and forth, sitting back down to write a line every few minutes.

I can't bring myself to look upwards, at lines already put down. But this is why I'm using ink.

I need only to suppress my desire to rip out the page.

...

At some point, I remembered to take off my boots. Allowing my feet to breathe, preventing me from tracking mud around my house.

The forest gets so annoyingly muddy this time of year.

It's so annoying.

Cleaning up the mud is a chore. Taking off my boots is a chore.

An unnecessary extra "thing" to do.

Were it up to me, I could just sit in place and do nothing.

Like a vegetable.

But simply being alive brings with itself obligations and burdens.

Well, as long as you wish to be part of the civilized world.

There is always the option of... killing my mind, going feral.

But that too would be inconvenient.

Feral creatures do not live in cushy houses that shelter them from the elements.

They do not eat meals they prepare out of refrigerated goods that they didn't need to scavenge for.

Not that I need to eat, of course.

It's just that I'm too weak to give up these convenient aspects of life, so I must bear the obligations that come with them.

...

I went and checked on my guest.

Still asleep. Good.

The drugs seem to have worked well, providing a peaceful sleep.

Something I myself have not known in far too long.

And immeasurable unit of time.

Every night, lying down in bed is like strapping myself to a torture tab

The first time I encountered the snow maiden, I had just turned ten years old.

I had run away from home. In the excitement of my younger brother being born, and the anger of my older brother being caught stealing, my parents had forgotten about my own birthday. I had been replaced, I thought, and this time I decided to run away for real. Not just to the shed out back, or to the school where I played hide and seek with our friends. I packed myself two meals, a change of clothes, and I left my home. I walked until the village gates, and then walked some more. I walked past the farms, and away from the trails to the shrine or mountains. I walked far away from the safety of the village. I walked into what I knew was the domain of youkai, but I didn't care. I just wanted to run away, as far as I could go.
By the time the sun began to set, I was already hopelessly lost. I had no idea where I was. I didn't know of any landmarks or features I could use to get my bearings. All I saw around me was short grass, tall trees, and great mountains. I sat down to eat the food I had brought, and as the sun set and the winter night began to replace it, I grew cold. The clothes I was wearing were too light. I took out the spare clothes I had brought and wrapped them around myself to keep warm. It was then that I started to panic. With the night came darkness, and with the darkness came fear of what lied beyond the pale moonlight. My imagination ran wild with tales of youkai, and the horrific fates of those who encountered them. I began frantically running, searching for anything that I might be able to use as shelter before the last glimmer of light faded. To me, in that moment, a hollowed tree trunk looked like the inviting arms of my mother. I regretted running away as I holed up inside it, and slept through the night unharmed.

The next morning, it began to snow. The cold winter didn't care that I was out here. As the snow began to blanket the ground, I was no longer able to even tell what way I had come to get here, and my mad dash the previous night cost me all sense of direction. I finished the last of the food I had brought, and left the comforting shelter that the tree hollow provided. A

She hefted me to my feet, and I'd be a liar if I said that lying there on the ground was good for me. But standing was worse.

“You're not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?” She brushes the broken glass off my shirt, and I groan. I'd jumped through the window after breaking it with a convenient rock, tripped, and landed on the broken glass face-first. And thankfully I missed the broken glass with my face.

“So. Sit down and let's do something about that glass in your arms. Then you will explain things to me.” I'm frogmarched to a chair by a surprisingly strong girl with rabbit ears, and she sits me down.

While she plucks out the glass from my arm and applies (probably-deliberately) overly-stinging peroxide to the cuts, she prompts me to explain what made me break into her pharmacy. During the middle of the day. When she was just in the back for something.

“I, I, got a problem.”

“No shit,” she replies.

“I needed my fix.”

“Fix of what? Aspirin? Sulfa drugs? You get high off beta blockers, kid?”

“D-don't you have any of the hard stuff, like opium, or cocaine?”

She snorts in derision as she continues to clean my wounds. “What is this? The nineteenth century? Look, there's maybe a bit of morphine, but we haven't done straight-up opium in like, a century here.” She stops, and looks into my eyes. Hers are red, sparkling, beautiful, and angry. “What are you going to do when I call the cop on you?” Cop, singular. Kotohime's still the only one who takes on that 'job'. God knows I don't want to have to deal with her again.

Reisen raises my arm, and turns it underside-up. I blush and turn away. “Track marks,” she says. Of course she'd notice. “You know, kid, the world's gonna roll you one of these days. Look. I'll make you a deal, I don't want to see you waste away your life. You work here now, for me. And I won't report this crime to the authorities if you make something of it. We got a deal?”

I nod, knowing that I never planned to show up here again.

“Good,” she says, finishing up

Isn't it sad, THP? ;_;

It seemed like the perfect break. I had to get out of my city; she had a job nobody in hers would take. I’ll admit, I’d have been suspicious of the payout, too, if she hadn’t paid up front for a business-class seat on a flight there. The job itself was simple enough: break into some old bat’s retirement home and scan some research notes from its library.

There was a catch, of course—there’s always a catch. This one’s was ‘old bat’ being more literal than you’d think. In the sense of ‘centuries-old vampire’. Because vampires are real things that exist and own opulent, non-Euclidean lakefront properties, and so are wizards with wizard libraries and wizard research notes and very strong opinions about intellectual property.

And that’s not even getting started on the neighbourhood.

The upshot is—the client stuck my phone with some sort of magic red metal, so now I can Crosslink magicrap just like regular circuits. Not sure on the utility of that back Outside, but you never know. I mean, I didn’t when I took this job, and look where I am now.


Uh, and that would be hanging from the ceiling, having narrowly evaded a giant laser-turned-breaching-charge out of sheer luck.


A pointy black witch’s hat flies in from the rain, on the head of what is presumably therefore a witch. Shaking herself off from her stint outside in the dark-and-stormy, the witch immediately takes to raking books off the shelves and into a sack of the kind that would have indignant burglars crying about ‘reinforcing the stereotype’.

Observing for a moment, I decide the wisest course of action would probably be to get the hell away before the librarian shows up.

As I clamber—still on the ceiling—towards the newly-installed egress, however, one crucial difference between East Point and the Eastern Wonderland makes itself apparent: back Outside, people don’t bother looking up, because back Outside, flight is not a common personal ability. So the witch’s gaze sweeps in three degrees

In retrospect, I really shouldn't have expected robbing a palace in Hell to have gone smoothly.

Now, there's a lot I could say about how Sully and I flew to Japan, smuggled an open four-by-four into Gensokyo (and how we found out about that place is another thing entirely), drove underground, and broke into this 'Palace of the Earth Spirits' (a place I'd have loved to explore more but for, you know, the shooting and everything), but I'll just cut to the part where we were driving said four-by-four back out, my satchel loaded down with-

Well, let's just say it was something that'd leave us sitting pretty for a long, long time to come, yeah?

Anyway, you wouldn't think you could easily drive a car around inside a building, but whoever built the place really, and I mean really, went all-out here. I'm talking hallways you could fit a tank in with room to spare, something Sully was taking full advantage of as our ride squealed through the tiled hallways. While that crazy old son of a bitch drove, I was taking wild shots with my pistol at the people chasing us.

Now I've dealt with a lot of crazy stuff in my time, but I don't think they hold up to a woman with a giant orange rod stuck on her arm and raven wings carrying her through the air, and that's not counting the fist-sized Eye of Sauron she had on her chest, and also there was her cape with stars flowing on the inside? I was too busy being terrified of the freakin' laser beams she was shooting out of that arm-cannon to get a better look. In comparison, the little redheaded kitty-girl flying next to her and pitching fastball skulls at us just seemed tame.

"Incoming!" I yelled, ducking just as one of those flaming skulls smashed against the back of the four-by-four and exploded, face-meltingly hot blue fire rising high for a split second. "Holy crap!"

The key word was in comparison.

"Hold still!" Utsuho bellowed (the crow woman, just to be clear (and how I learned her name, as w

“She knew about this, you know,” Lyrica whispers. They sit huddled by the safehouse windows, four in a row. (Not under—they learned that rule the hard way, when the missiles tore through the last rest stop. No windows, no hats.)

“Who did?” Reimu asks.

A long time ago (a week ago), Lyrica's smile was sly and quiet. Today it is filled with teeth. Reimu thought Merlin would crack first across the three of the sisters, Merlin with her boundless energy tumbled into restraints, but it is the thinker Lyrica who is the closest to faling over the edge. She can hear Lyrica during the nights, when they're pretending any of them can sleep—Lyrica, muttering at the walls, creaking louder than the floorboards, with plans and plans and nothing to execute them with.

“Layla,” says Lyrica. “Layla knew about this, I mean. She told us stories.”

And Reimu is the last of the Hakurei at the moment, keeper of the Shrine, guardian of the Border (and you sure did a bang-up job of that this time, didn't you, dear), but it's dark and she's tired and she's spent too many hours already cooped up shoulder to shoulder to a girl who's only barely on this side of real, so she snaps, “Told you stories about Gensokyo and an army of clowns?”

“We weren't from Gensokyo,” Lyrica hisses back. “None of us are. I was just going to ask—” She stops, looks away, lips twitching, and Reimu has the sudden feeling she's gone too far, like maybe she's spent so long watching Lyrica at the precipice that she forgot her own feet were there, too.

“I wanted to ask if you wanted in, but forget it,” Lyrica says. We'll get our things back on our own. Come on.”

She leaves the safehouse, shoulders high until the moment she crosses the doorway and she has to watch her back again (the difference between pride and stupidity). Her sisters follow behind her, single-file, like students on a field trip—Merlin first, then Lunasa, who pauses at the light to look one last time at Reimu and Reimu can't tell if it's disapp

I feel like this isn't even a short, more like a just right. Many stories would benefit from this kind of brevity. Rumia was cute, we fucked a dog girl, some other stuff happened. What more could you ask for?

Congrats on finishing, you are the THP 1%.

Was a good run, congrats on completion

>>1804
>>1805
>>1806

Yeah, about that...

New thread: >>/th/182940

Moving boards because this isn't really a short anymore.

DED STORY

DED THRED

>>1841
And yet that's all she wrote (if my resumed silence and the bold HERE ENDS weren't telling enough). I hope whoever, let's say, commissioned this is satisfied, and once again I apologise for taking so long to wrap it up. With this out of the way, I don't think anything else remains to be said.

>>1842
>>1842
Sorry, you lost me.

Anyway, looking forward for the next update!

>>1842

>I hope whoever, let's say, commissioned this is satisfied,

Yep.

>and once again I apologise for taking so long to wrap it up.

No worries.

>With this out of the way, I don't think anything else remains to be said.

Thanks for the story, YAF. See ya later.

lol that was really good ^_^b

>>1817
>>1818

>XD
>^_^b

Please don't do that. Go read >>/gensokyo/6052.

If you're new here, follow the instructions in >>/forest/28235 to get up to speed.

I quite liked it. Good work.

Truly, Gensokyo is singing with Christmas Spirit.

it went every well, all things considered (HavinG Flandre and Okuu in the same place)

I feel the need to state the obvious that it seems as if that ending is relevant to the main story in some strange way.

Silly me, getting all fired up when I haven't even tracked down Shiro yet. I hope he hasn't gotten himself drunk off of... whatever it is they drink. He should be waiting near or at the crossroads. Now that I think about it, there might not be much material left this late in the night, at least nothing on par with those two. I'll try to politely convince Wriggle to spare some time since her outfit was definitely well made.

-----

I get to the crossroads, and find Shiro waiting with his camera, his fur a bit rustled. “I don't think it'll be much longer, so you can get back to what you were doing before the night ends.” That seems to appease him, and we head over to the booths as it's where the people are. I hear some talking down the road to the Hidea residence, though, so I start following my ears. This could be something interesting.

-----

As we turn the corner, I spot none other than the hero Arthur. There's no mistaking him, not with that red hair and odd clothing. Yuuka definitely has good taste, though I still think Yaggy was better looking in his youth. A small girl is riding piggyback on Arthur's shoulders, and she holds on when he notices me and turns around. “Ah, Miss reporter. If this is about an interview, could it wait? I don't want to keep Yuuka waiting and I know Alice's getting impatient.”

I nod while taking a closer look at Alice's outfit, a blue yukata but with various designs on it. “Who made Alice's outfit?” I ask, figuring he got it for her.

Alice speaks up. “I did, though I had to visit a tailor for some minor corrections. I also made Hourai's, despite how inappropriately she's trying to wear it.” She points to a small doll in one of Arthur's pockets wearing a well-made red yukata. The doll pulls out a sign saying “Why can't I show off what little I have? It's bad enough she gave me tiny-” before Alice yanks it away. I giggle at the comical little display.

Arthur sighs. “Miss reporter, I'll try to free up some time and meet you somewhere away from Yuuka. I don't think she'd appreciate you coming by.” It'

Note: This will be canon; it happens during the same Christmas as the earlier Christmas short.

-----

I already visited Mother and Father yesterday so I can look forward to relaxing with a nice book today. No Aya to pester me, no work to do. A nice moment of pea-

*KNOCK!* *KNOCK!*

“Momimomi, are you theeere? Hic!” Oh hell… can't that drunk of a Oracle stick around on a day like this so she can be drunkenly insufferable around someone else? Well, I remember reading that Christmas is a time of tolerance and forgiveness… so against my better judgment, I'll let her in.

“Hey I hope you don't have no plans, as I have none since Junny's spending Christmas in the outside and I can't even drop by Yaggy's without catching flack from those limp dick elders.” She rambles on my shoulder as I lead her in, hoping she doesn't puke on the floor. I take her over to the couch as I get a glass of water and a bucket; this isn't the first time she's been here like this.

I set them by the couch before checking on dinner: a decent sized turkey, yet another rather recent import to Gensokyo. I figure that by cooking this thing I can have enough food to take care of both lunch and dinner at the same time.

“Momimomi! Why is there no TV?! Hic!” Damn it, better go and see what she wants.

Well, there's no vomit all over the place so that's a relief. I explain, “Aya, you know I don't have one of those. I have more productive hobbies, such as reading and Shogi.”

“But that's boooring! How else are you supposed to watch soap operas?” She is so childish at times, especially when she’s drunk; it’s hard to believe I'm the younger one. Even Hatate acts more mature than her.

“Someone whose love life could qualify as one and who runs a newspaper shouldn't be saying such things.” After hearing no response, I turn and see she’s passed out. I adjust her position so that she’s comfortable and able to easily reach the bucket. Until she wakes up, I’ll read a nice book and check on the turkey when I need to.

-----

Dinner’s nearly ready and

This is a redux so to speak of Yuki and Wriggle's first meeting, as I feel I have the ability to do it justice myself now. (Post >>/forest/22945 )

No picture due to having used up most of the fitting ones.

-----

Right, I open my book to the page with wind magic as I leap into action through the nearby bush, but what I saw was... something stunning.

A girl that looks about to be my age, legs that are slightly slim but also toned and cute and up to a hairless... oh my.

She's completely nude; I’ve seen a few nude girls in those Tengu Porn books Kamui has, but the real thing is just so much... more. Next are some subtle but clearly feminine hips, then what looks like a cute behind. And above which is a soft, flat stomach. Once my eyes pass that, they're quickly drawn to a pair of breasts, modest, cute, but definitely there. They're topped by small pink nipples.

My heart’s racing from this sight. I look upwards to a very cute face with bluish green eyes, green hair that’s short enough to be a male’s but looks lovely on her and... antennae. ANTENNAE!? She’s a youkai... but a cute one at that. And she just noticed me! Quick, quick what should I do!?

Okay... focus, calm down. Turn around so you don’t end up thinking of... NO! “Ah... I apologize for intruding, I thought someone was in trouble... I’ll be going now.” I say as I pick up my book and walk out with as much dignity as I can muster - not very much.

Right after I leave I hear her say, “Um... apology accepted.” That’s a relief. So far so good as I follow the path away from that spot.