Thread 1: >>41094

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[x] To spar.
　[x] Loser has to sleep at the opposite abode.

I strode back out, into the open. She wouldn’t get out of those habits on her own, so I decided to shake this up. Byakuren waited by the trees.

I turned and faced her, resting my left hand on my sword. Seiga didn’t help, but I still had one card up my sleeve. I threw my right hand out, shaku pointed at Byakuren. “We’re here to duel.”

She stepped out of the shade. “Excuse me?”

I shrugged my shoulders and let my right hand descend to my side. “We’re not reaching each other through conventional means. So, I’ve decided we need to speak in a more common language.”

She cocked her head. “Violence?”

“Magic bullet duels.”

She shook her head as she rolled her shoulders. “I can accept that. What are your terms?”

“Our beds.”

She froze, turning pink. “Excuse me?”

“The loser must rest in the winner’s abode. We’re companions now, after all, so we ought at least to do that much.”

She stared back, a slant to her eyes. “I think you want to sleep here.”

“Oh ho. You’ve got some fire now.”

She shook her head, face still as she balled one hand into a fist, which she pointed at me. “How many cards?”

“As many as you have.” Or in other words, the fight would continue, all out, until someone wore out or gave in. A choice normally reserved for intense, almost desperate encounters. Or extreme workouts, as in this case.

“So, you do want to sleep here.”

I growled back, half-playfully. “I’ll still win, darling.”

Lights gathered around us both as I swallowed my fears. Byakuren was savvy, but not as proficient as I in the social sphere. Yet in direct, one-on-one combat, the tables turned. I lifted off, into the air, my cape fluttering as I ascended. Byakuren hung below, hovering barely above the grass. Her head flitted between me and t

“Hey. Say something. Please?” She appeared before him with the wind gently fluttering her billowing pink dress. She brushed aside a stray hair from her eyes, and the girl smiled, her emerald eyes smiling with her.

The man would, but there was one small problem in the way: He was, in the most literal sense, mute.

[ ] Hand motions are simple enough to explain.
[ ] Mouth the words. She should understand.
[ ] So he engaged in interpretive dance.

Rice and Rain >>/shorts/2209

Inspired by, or shamelessly stolen from. Take your pick. Mibya wrote that (>>/gensokyo/15535).

Thread 1: >>38346
Thread 2: >>38909

[x] Kokoro is learning about this sort of thing too, right? Maybe talking to her might help!

Before I can come up with an answer to that, Medicine surprises me. She slowly and awkwardly puts her arms around me and hugs me back.

...umm, what's that smell? It's kind of... sweet? And it's coming from Medicine's hair...

"You smell like flowers," I say.

"It's su-san's smell," Medicine mumbles.

"Er... aren't suzuraan poisonous?" I'm not going to get sick from hugging her am I?

"Only if you eat them."

Oh. That's okay, I guess?

I let go, and a moment later so does Medicine. Her expression hasn't changed, but her eyes are definitely a little watery. She rubs at them tiredly.

"Feel like taking another nap?" I ask.

Medicine shakes her head. "I'm not sleepy anymore."

"You sure? You can stay here as long as you want, you know?"

Medicine shakes her head again. "I have to stay in the village. It's my punishment after all."

I reach up... and flick her in the forehead.

"Ouch!" Medicine flinches, which is the most reaction she's shown to anything so far. "What was that for!?"

"This is the village, silly," I say. "If Yuuka sent you here to make friends, that means she wants you to stay with someone else!"

"But I hate humans!" Medicine says.

"So?" I ask, smiling. "I'm not human, am I?"

Medicine huffs and looks away.

"Like I said, you can stay here as long as you want." I gently rub Medicine's forehead where I flicked it, and she slumps again. "That's what friends do."

"But I don't need your help," Medicine mumbles.

&q

Wherein some resolutions are made.

Previous thread: >>41501

“Platonic love is love from the neck up.”
—Thyra Samter Winslow

“Despite how it looks, it’ll be easy to fix.” The young man takes a few steps back from the broken door. “Though I’ll recommend we get you a new one entirely.”

“I’m not sure we can afford it.” The teacher shakes her head. “Our budget is tight as it is, and we have to save up for winter too.”

“Forget about it.” He dismissively waves her concern away. “Regardless of what I do, I charge a standard service fee, which you’ve already agreed to pay.” Reaching into his vest, he pulls out a vial with a thick brown liquid in it. “If I take this broken door as compensation, I’ll be able to replace all other costs for making you a new door.”

“I know you run your business in an unusual way,” the teacher folds her arms, “but what exactly can you use a broken door for?”

The young artisan looks at her for a second, puzzled by her words. “Oh right, you’ve never actually seen me work.” Placing the vial on the table, he frees up his hands to cracks his knuckles. “How many years have you been my customer now, Keine? Doesn’t matter, you’re going to be in for a treat.”

Holding his hand over the vial, it starts to float. As he drags it through the air into the more open space, the cork sealing the liquid inside is popped off. Drawing his other hand away, a few drops of the brown liquid follows the motion out of the glass container.

With the vial now suspended in the air he claps his hands around the droplets. As he draws them apart again, hardwood fills the space.

Using careful movements, he guides the growth of the tree granting it the rough shape of a door. As a final touch, he flattens it before it solidifies.

“I’ll admit, doors aren’t that exciting to create. Not compared to some of the other requests I get, but this one turned out nicely.” He places his hands on his hips, admiring his own handiwork. “Though it’s not done. We still have to install the handle and the hinges.”

“What was it called that skill again?” The teacher inspects the newly grown door.

“Alchemy.” He puffs out his chest. “A rare skill passed from one master to one student.”

“Al

It’s embarrassing, but I woke late that morning. My head hurt, my perfected body whined at every move. I snuggled tight into my wife’s welcoming, curvaceous body to shield my poor, defenseless eyes from the burning sunlight. My legs entwined with her own full, healthy thighs and strong shins.

The legs she lost. Years ago. Centuries ago.

Still groggy, I groaned. Too tender to dare look, I listened.

She conveyed the same old fears of abandonment and isolation. Frustrations at trust betrayed. The same unwavering determination to see her ideals realized. That unflinching spirit that first drew me in. Then something else slipped through.

A sense of protectiveness. Not for her descendants or allies. For youkai. Not some youkai. All of them. Or most of them, at least. All underlaid with a broad distrust of humanity.

…And a wish to repent for severe misdeeds.

I groaned again, louder. She stirred, conveying similar physical discomforts and a distinct yearning for a good cup of sake. That one puzzled me.

Straining, I peeked one eye open.

A full head of fluffy purple hair, transitioning to brown around her shoulders.

Just as I’d thought. The grand monk herself shared this futon with me. Not Tojiko. I’d rather have awakened to Yoshika.

We were both quite clothed, but that only worried me more. Judging by the sensation, it appeared that I had slept in my common dress. A masterwork that didn’t deserve the wrinkles it would soon suffer.

[ ] Look around.

[ ] Wake her.

[ ] Get away.

[ ] Write-in.

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No timer today; votes close when I post the next update.

Don't expect this to be long!

A request courtesy of Mibya >>/gensokyo/15696

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Tok.

I bounce the ball in my hand, and a dirt-circle spreads from the hit, dust dancing kind of pretty.

Tok...

I’m surprised I can hear it. It’s loud out here.

Tmp—sh shh...

“Wah...”

My leg just kinda flipped out, and I kicked my ball by accident. It’s colorful so I can see it but—

It gets kicked by someone walking by.

It gets out of my sight.

And it’s gone with the crowd.

“...” I don’t even sigh. I just let my hand reach out toward where I saw it go. Well... it would’ve happened eventually. I sit down fully, right on my butt, dirtying the gray yukata they gave me. Having only one working eye like I do... yeah, it was uh... “inevitable”.

I touch the bangs over the right side of my face, and look at the sky.

“When will the fireworks start...?” I ask to no one. Like I want to see them. It’s loud out here, and I’m talking like I want it louder. Plus, with how crowded the street is, fireworks would get more people out... I should just go back, I think.

I get ready to crawl out of here when an older girl steps over to where I am—between festival stalls, watching the celebration. She has red hair... did she dye it like Miss Marisa did when she was younger? Her brows are pushed together and she’s frowning. I don’t think she noticed me. She just stands with her arms in her sleeves, glaring. He yukata is like her hair, but there’s a black flower pattern on it. I look at her head again... A blue bow... that’s nice.

“... mans...... I should......... stupid,” she’s muttering to herself but not loud enough for me to get any of it. Yeah, she definitely doesn’t notice me.

“U-Um...” I speak up from under her, “Big Sis? You okay?”

“Hah? A child?” She looks down at me. Saying “a child” is weird. “What is it?”

“Yo

First off, hi yes it's still me. Don't worry about the change in magical signature up on top - I accidentally the magical equivalent of burning off my fingertips, and it still smarts a bit. With any luck I'll get it fixed soon, but until then let's just keep on going.

Thanks for waiting!

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Reimu's kitchen is the largest room in the shrine; even with all of her money troubles, she does her best to eat well. Her pantry is always... stocked. Not fully by any means, but it is stocked, with dried vegetables and meats, fruits here and there - stuff that's easy to cook and easier to store.

I've been invading Reimu's personal space for years, so it's pretty simple to disable the warning charms slapped all over her tea cabinet; no need to wake my shrine maiden up. It's simpler still to dole out the right amount of leaves to suit her tastes, and to magic away just enough water from Reimu's buckets to steep the tea in. A snap of my fingers creates a quick spark, and then it's just a matter of leaving the pot on the stove until the steam wakes Reimu up.

I don't particularly want to sit on my laurels, but there's not much to do in the first place. The master of the house is off dreaming, and helping myself to Reimu's food just feels a bit too wrong right now. Hell, she's even starting a garden just to bolster her diet. It's - kinda depressing. Girl does so much to keep the peace, but it's a struggle to get enough to eat.

It takes a little while for the idea to actually worm its way into my head, but once it does I start scrambling. I find the small collection of seeds Reimu begged off the Village's farmers easily enough, and I even take the time to glance over them. I mean, they were all sorts of shapes and sizes, and it's not like I can identify them on sight... but I'm sure Reimu has some idea of what she's planting. The villagers should have given her the more hardy varieties anyway, if they have any sense at all.

Planting them without her permission will either piss her off or make her