[X] Sleepy build. Jam in more weapons. It doesn’t matter if the enemies are already dead.

You figured that you can take infinite heat and the shutdown timer would be the same anyway.

Unfortunately, the cross section between weapons that do not lose half their damage due to shutting down, and weapons that can be boated are just PPCs, and to a limited extent short burst lasers, so you end up getting cored anyway since it turns out, you’re not exactly fighting an equal tonnage worth of mechs here.

“MAN FUCK THIS GAME!” You swear as you toss your mouse across the desk.

OM_NOM_NOM: JUST PUT IN THE HEAT SINKS

THubert: literally just put in more heat sinks

THubert: or play an autocannon build

Switching off the energy boat you were on, you grab one of the mechs on the market that has cannons. “Woah, I can fire this all day without overheating. Ammo? Oh, ammo.”

You’d much rather have one ton of ammo than one ton of heat sinks though. Foisting off the energy boat on a teammate, you have a good deal of fun just trapezing through the missions just blazing away…though, it is getting very late, or rather very early, and you feel…sleepy…

…

You wake up to the underground sun shining through your window, and a stream chat full of ResidentSleeper emotes. Is your sleep schedule just going to be cracked from now on? Nah, you have infinite days to correct it, unlike dumb humans with their short lifespans. Muttering an apology, you switch off the screen.

Opening the door, you skip down to the river and strip off, before diving in. This was your morning shower, whenever you bother to get one, which was rare. However, an overnight gaming session made you feel somewhat dirty.

What are you doing anyway? Your viewership numbers are not going up for your gaming streams, and when the Persian miniature trend dies out in Korea you’ll be scavenging for views. No, you gotta expand. Maybe do more art! And get started with your initial idea of dabbing on humans with your youkai reflexes in competitive online games!

Touching CS:GO aside though…how are you going to improve your art? Do you even want to?

“Hey.” Looking up, you instinctively shirk back as you see a certain red-white miko on the bridge, looking down at you with haggard eyes.

“Hey…” You reply cautiously, drawing back your powers.

“You are…making the Outside World money by doing ‘art’ streams, right? Whatever those are. That Reisen girl told me as much.”

You are going to KILL Reisen, but that’s for another time. “Yes…?”

“Well I just got manipulated and possessed, but that’s beside the point.” She gestured at a cave off to the side, which you recognize as leading to a particular realm you’re not too familiar with, “New Hell’s home to a new goddess, who specializes in art and crafts. She might be willing to teach you something.”

“For free?”

“Bring offers of potting clay, that’s my recommendation. Hmm…wait.” She sniffs the air, “Something smells good.”

You smell eggs and toast. Getting out of the tub, you crack open the door. “Yan?”

“Hmm?” The boy turns back to you in an apron, one of your unused pans in his hand. On it sizzles eggs and sliced mantou, drizzled with…did he buy butter while he was in the Village? It smells absolutely delectable, and your stomach growls in anticipation.

“Making breakfast for us, then I got to go to the Village…err…I mean, go to work.”

“Right but I don’t recall asking you to…”

“You didn’t.” He replied. He then blinks, and then turns slightly red. “You mind um, putting on some clothes…”

“Sure.” You go grab the towel hanging on the outside of your house to dry off, “Thanks a gigaton. And can you cook another portion? We got a guest.”

Reimu positively beamed when you invited her into your house, not even noticing that you’re soaking in her jealousy. “This is so good! If only I could afford butter regularly, I’d…”

“Well you could soon enough.” You say with a false smile. You really have mixed feelings about the tax. On one hand, it’s a tax, on the other hand, seeing the shrine maiden envious of you of all people is something money can’t usually buy.

Reimu’s wide, innocent smile, so distinct from what you’re used to of her, catches you off guard. She doesn’t give thanks, but something about her jealousy…or rather admiration makes you feel…odd, and tingly.

Is admiration just a positive form of jealousy? It doesn’t taste as good, sort of like stale bread, but you have developed an endless voracity for the family of emotions, partially out of desperation from being, for years, under a bridge no one crossed, and partially from how this feels…kinda nice.

The shrine maiden jabbered away about the incident, and you take notes on the parts relevant to the goddess. Apparently it’s the god of soil and pottery: Haniyasu, coming down to take pity on the humans trapped in the Animal Realm. It’s a shame she failed…but that means she wouldn’t be picky on new worshippers for the time. Even a hashihime would be welcome, or so Reimu seems to imply.

Yan hurries off after finishing his portion to his new courier job, no doubt so he has an excuse to look after that fox child that he seems to have taken responsibility for for whatever reason. And after you feed Reimu a second portion to send her off, you decide it’s time for a field trip to a neighboring realm that despite its proximity, you’ve never been to before.

“Keiki Haniyasushin…”

You head down to the town and buy up a whole hand-wagon’s worth of potting clay. The earth spiders are the ones supplying the clay, given how they live closer to the surface, and the one running the shop raises an eyebrow and scratches one of her legs at you buying so much.

“I didn’t know you were into pottery as well.”

“I’m not.” You check the price on the cartful of clay you got. “Wait…why is this so expensive? 3000 yen for 4 pounds?”

“New Hell. Dunno the client.”

Dammit, of course that goddess would’ve purchased clay from the closest sources. You really want this cart to be full to look better, after all, a half-full cart speaks of poverty and/or miserly behavior.

“Wait here.” You get a sudden idea. “Let me fetch my partner.”

The streets were just beginning to open up, and it is fortunate, you think to yourself, that the art store also opens early. “Saishiki!”

“Yo!” The art store oni waves back from behind the counter, “What is going on with the cart?”

“I’m off to visit New Hell for art lessons from the new art goddess that just showed up there. You want to come along?” You think for a moment on how to crack the topic, then decide that with oni, it’s best to be straightforward, “I need some help chipping in for an offering of clay.”

“Oh really? That’s great!” The oni shudders the shop and comes over to you, while you begin heading back to the clay shop. “Clay has been getting expensive recently, huh?”

The white-haired oni happily chips in for a quarter of the cart’s worth of clay. “Art lessons from Haniyasu herself! Wasn’t there word that she favored humans over youkai though?”

“She favored primates over other animals.” You say, “You and I are both primates as far as that angle is concerned, if someone like Kaenbyou were to go there she may have a rough time.”

This seems to assure Saishiki, though you’re not too sure of your assertion yourself. But it’s worth a try.

The trip to the Animal Realm includes a vengeful spirit-powered ferry ride down one of the underworld rivers, where you had to pay yet more money. “An arm and a leg.” You mutter, though Saishiki assures you it’s better than walking through all the tunnels. Unlike Reimu who was almost definitely harassed by the natives in the area, you encounter no resistance, being of the same existence as an abandoned spirit, or so you thought.

A short walk up from the cavern pier and up a ramp leads you into a scene that briefly blinds you. Cars whiz by on brightly lit asphalt streets, illuminated by neon lights from massive skyscrapers that nearly reach the cavern roof of this Hell realm. Hawkers occupy the sidewalks, selling various soul-crafted cuisines and underworld delicacies from electrically-powered stalls. It’s all animals, most choosing a mostly animalistic (or some on the web would call, “furry”) bipedal forms, though some are more Gensokyo-standard.

It’s like the Outside World over here, but animals.

“You’ve been here before, Saishiki?”

“Of course!” The oni seems unfazed by all of this, “Not everything in the shop can be procured from just our Old Hell, you know. I don’t come here often though, because of the tolls.”

“You mean, aside from the ferry…” You are cut off suddenly by some of the people loitering around the pier exit converging towards you. These animals are all eagles, but all seem to have suits and…are those knuckledusters on their talons?

“Heyya.” The one in front says in a boorish tone, “This exit is under the protection of the Gouyoku Alliance. If you don’t want anything happening to you two or that cart of your’s, there’s a small insurance fee.”

There’s too many of them, and you’re not a good judge of their combat capabilities. But if an oni like Saishiki had to pay up, they must not be pushovers. You debate internally if it’s worth turning up their jealousy to cause a distraction, when…

“Hey, aren’t you that one streamer?” One of the eagles suddenly pipes up upon seeing your face. “Mizuhashi297? I watch your art streams!”

“Uh…” Wait what? They have internet over here?

“Yeah, I’ve seen you when crawling the Outside World’s web! Twitch recommendations!” Another mafia member pipes up.

Come to think of it, you did here word on the streets in Former Hell that the Animal Realm had tech that was just two decades behind the Outside World rather than a century behind like Gensokyo. You could see it here, but they also have a direct feed…well yes, they’re not under the Barrier, technically, you think? But they would have needed the knowledge to advance like this.

“I TOLD YOU TO PUT IN MORE HEAT SINKS!”

This one came from behind and slightly below you. A woman. Rather angrily. Wait how can they even run MW5 with like, Windows 95?

[ ] Ask if they want an autograph
[ ] RUN
[ ] Try to small talk your way onwards
[ ] ASSERT DOMINANCE, you don’t need heat sinks where you’re going

[X] ASSERT DOMINANCE, you don’t need heat sinks where you’re going

“Now listen here you energy boating little shit!” You shout as you turn around to confront your accuser…and see nothing at first, only when you move your eyes downward do you behold what resembles a very irritated gray sheep staring back at you.

“Energy boating? You weren’t even energy boating! You had a stock loadout Centurion and you just kept firing everything at once! You could just downgrade your missile slot and put in a few more heatsinks but noooo….” The sheep rants at you, before licking her lips, “Hmm, I wonder what you taste like.”

“Sour.” You flatly state. “Very, very sour and unpleasant.”

“Parsee!” Saishiki runs up to you and whispers (as much as an oni usually does, which is quite loud, though you’re certain this time it’s intentional), “That’s Yuuma Toutetsu, leader of the Gouyoku Alliance here in New Hell! She’s kind of a big shot yakuza leader!”

“And?” You dismiss her warning, leading to the surrounding eagles gasping at you, “What is a yakuza leader to a mediocre streamer! Other than the money, the power, the supporters, the personal strength, and hundreds of other things.”

Yuuma opens her sharp-toothed mouth as if to say something, but clearly something about the way you made that absurd statement threw her off. She quickly regains her composure however, and says darkly, “Well, sour or not, I have not eaten a hashihime before. You claim that you’re sour? Let’s see what sort of lemon tart you really are underneath your attitude.”

A little bit of fear struck you, but you got the feeling that this Yuuma is trying to chicken you out. “Go ahead, if being in an eternal cycle of envy and self-hatred is what you want, eat me! Free me from this existence!” You spread your arms, “I have not succeeded in suicide before, so make my day!”

Yuuma stares at you, wide-eyed, “You…are bitter, not sour. Blegh.” She waves her hand. “Grab this needy streamer, I’m going to show her why she should be taking heat sinks.”

You maintain a smile as two burly eagles grab you by the arm and drag you downtown. Saishiki was initially blocked by the other eagles from passing, but Yuuma looked at her artist’s apron and nodded, “Let her come along, she can help us paint the ‘Mechs.”

“I didn’t know you had the rigs needed to run modern games here.” You say to Yuuma.

“We don’t. But…”

You were hearing loud noises in the distance since you left the fairy, and thought them to be industrial processes. But now you could see that they were explosions and emulated weapons fire.

At around the center of the Animal Realm city, where the guide pamphlet on the ferry told you there was a lake with an island holding human souls for the animals to gawk at, you behold a swamp. An artificial swamp. The lake had dykes constructed to hold back water from this particular narrow section, and in the reclaimed land you could see that artificial terrain had been plopped down, seemingly at random, and defenses constructed on both sides. In the distance, on the other side of the lake, you could see a fortress, undergoing what looked to be reconstruction or renovation.

And in this swamp, you see a game of MechWarrior, or would it be a life-sized game of BattleTech? Giant clay sculptures, possessed by animal spirits or appearing to be living haniwa, shaped to resemble the ‘Mechs in the game, firing danmaku at each other and occasionally engaging in melee combat. The ground shakes with the impact of simulated autocannon and artillery shells, and a virtual disco show is present from all the lasers thrown around, further discernable from the thick clouds of contrail residue from all the missiles. All in all, a very Gensokyean spectacle.

“Welcome to the Human Sanctuary battle front.” Yuuma pulls out a pair of sunglasses and a pipe, and surveys the blasted wasteland in front of you. Sprawling wreckages of clay sculptures shaped to look like mechs, of both exceedingly fine make and rather crude sculpting, litter the field. Squinting, you could also make out Armored Core, Gundam, and various other mecha designs you do not quite recognize mixed in with the others in the ruins. Distinctly not copyright-friendly, this battlefield was…is that a dreadnaught from 40k?

“You guys are playing MechWarrior here?” You look on in disbelief. “Not danmaku?”

“We’ve gotten bored of most of the historical games..” Yuuma gestures at a pile of discarded musketeer uniforms and mock gear in the corner, “...and our opponent refuses to try Warhammer even after I went to the trouble of making a couple models, so giant robots it is.” You hear an eagle screech as one of Yuuma’s Hunchbacks blows apart, sending the eagle spirit flying off into the sky, screaming. “And of course this counts as danmaku! Just giant, slowly moving ones. Hey!” Yuuma snaps at a group of eagle spirits molding and painting a King Crab out of reeds and clay, “I wanted that Assault ‘Mech done twenty minutes ago! What’s the hold up?”

“This thing can’t stand upright by itself, boss!”

“Use some more steel rods then! It’s not like the rules of the battlefield here car about the actual material.” Yuuma picks up a loudspeaker and points it towards the island in the distance, “Keiki Haniyasushin! Today is the day you will rue being born from Izanami! The King Crab lance will finish what those surface dwellers started: the total dominance of the Primate Spirit Garden by the Gouyoku Alliance!”

Haniyasushin? Haniyasu is the opponent here? You’ve got a bad feeling about this, especially as a spray of danmaku comes up from the ruined fortress on the other side, spelling out in clear Japanese: “Try me.”

“So…why did you drag me here?” You ask.

“Why did I drag you here? Miss I’m-Too-Good-For-Heat-Sinks?” Yuuma says with a wide, sharp-toothed grin. “You are going to be piloting one of these clay models of course! I’ve picked out four specific ‘Mechs just for you, none of which had additional heat sinks installed! Don’t worry about using your magical energy…one of my eagles will be acting as the reactor, but there will be no assistance for your skills.”

You stare at her. Is this what they meant by cyberstalking? You’ve seen what you now figured was Yuuma’s handle in your stream chat a couple times, but never thought much of it, but your disdain of heat sinks apparently has dragged you into a glorified gladiator arena. A part of you is fine with this though…you WILL show her that heat sinks are for losers.

“Fine, show me to my rides.” You say, not breaking eye contact. Yuuma’s grin grows wider, and the eagles drag you off to what appears to be a mock garage.

You vaguely recall something about how Mechwarrior’s armor numbers were twice that of tabletop, but surely that just means things blow up faster, and if things blow up faster you don’t have to worry about overheating as much. The mechs Yuuma have on offer are not half bad…as long as you assume they’re playing around the tech level you were playing at in MW5.

Cracking your knuckles, you take a good look at the clay ‘Mechs she had lined up.

[ ] Hunchback HBK-4G, medium mech with good armor, very big gun. With your generally lackadaisical attitude towards bothering with things, this is the most straightforward option.
[ ] Blackjack BJ-2O, long-medium ranged fire support medium with a mixed arsenal. It even has jump jets to get you out of trouble, making it quite a safe pick.
[ ] Axman AXM-1N, heavy mech with a big gun and a big hatchet. That hatchet is easily converted to a hammer…and the other hand is free. You wonder if you could ask Yuuma for some ‘Mech-scale nails and curse dolls…
[ ] Atlas AS7-D, fuck it.

[X] Axman AXM-1N, heavy mech with a big gun and a big hatchet. That hatchet is easily converted to a hammer…and the other hand is free. You wonder if you could ask Yuuma for some ‘Mech-scale nails and curse dolls…

=====

“Reactors Online, Sensors Online, Weapons Online, All Systems Nominal!” You shout, startling the eagle spirit currently powering the clay mech below you. “Where we’re going we don’t need any heat sinks!”

Grabbing one of the nails from the satchel, you activate the “jump jets”, hearing the eagle screech in exertion as it struggles to propel all this pottery through the air. Landing on the top of a small hillock, you stride on past a friendly Shadow Hawk dueling a Centurion. The Centurion haniwa turns to look at you, only to immediately receive an AC/20 shot to the face. The modeled cockpit shatters into clay shards as you continue forward.

“Activate the Triple Strength Myomer!” You shout at the eagle spirit as you fire a barrage of lasers at some distant targets, hitting nothing but driving your heat up.

“We don’t HAVE TSM it’s mostly IntroTech GAHHH!” The eagle protests, before being silenced by you focusing your power onto it while sticking a nail into the modeled reactor core. “Fine fine! TSM is on!”

Barreling forward, you activate the jump jets at the apex of your forward momentum, propelling you forward at great speed. An enemy Vindicator looks up just in time to see the foot of your clay mech crashing into its left torso.

“Fear the wrath of the Axman!” You shout. Instead of backing up and attacking with your AC/20, you pull out another nail and with the hammer, drive it directly into the haniwa’s foot. Being a practiced reflex rather than a deliberate piloting motion, the enemy mech is caught off guard as it attempts to pull back, only to find itself immobilized. Hapless, it appears to de-animate before it eats a hammer directly to the cockpit.

“Who’s next?” You swing the hammer around and stare out at the enemy lines. Spinning up the jump jets again, you bunny-hop your way across the battlefield in bounds and leaps, only stopping occasionally to “nagel und hammer” some poor haniwa to the ground before pounding them into submission. With most of the eagles and haniwa on the field only recently having picked up the “game” and are only piloting their models with mediocre efficiency, your reckless tactic actually gets you quite some ways into enemy territory, until…

“Halt! Eagle spirit! This is as far as you get!” Something big leaps, blotting out the cave ceiling briefly before skidding to a halt in front of you. You squint: The mech in front of you is no BattleMech. Is it a Gundam? Or is it…yep, exposed weapon systems, back holsters, western-ish design, it’s an Armored Core.

You wonder how many random clay mechs from various franchise Haniyasu had sitting around before they agreed to run BT as the system with their enemies.

“Entering combat mode! Primal Armor online! I, Joutouguu Mayumi, shall strike you down where you stand in my Yumi…I mean, Archer-class mech!”

“Err…that’s not an ‘Yumi’ nor an Archer.” You stare at the jet-boosting rules violation running circles around you, gleaming with multiple layers of magical shielding. “That’s uhh…is that ‘White Glint’’s mech or something? Eh, fuggit.”

You begin channeling your own energies into the clay model, overcharging its simulated performance beyond its rules as well…more than you’ve already broken the rules already. “Reactor output at 150%, engaging lateral jump-jets!” You cry out into the loudspeaker against Mayumi, both of which were things definitely not included within the mech’s spec sheet.

The enemy “Archer” pops open its hatches and disgorges a swarm of missiles at you, which you nimbly avoid by forcing your mech into a slide after forcing its jump jets sideways, causing your eagle spirit to screech in pain at the stress being forced upon the clay frame. The swarm of missile danmaku flies over your head as you force the clay mech into a lunge maneuver.

“Too slow!” You hear Mayumi call out as you whiff the first lunge. Ignoring her, you force the clay mech into a 180 degree turn that pops the left leg clean off. Good thing the jump jets are torso-mounted!

“Gotcha!” You cry out as you smash the hammer straight into the enemy mech’s arm, tearing it straight off and sending the mech careening out midair. Unfortunately for you, this strain also tears the arm off of your mech, and the eagle spirit serving as the reactor to pass out completely.

Popping open the cockpit, you leap out without bothering with the ejection seat. With a thud, and a series of loud cracks, the Axman model lands on the ground in a heap of pottery shards and a dazed eagle spirit crawling out. You on the other hand, land on top of it, more or less unscathed.

“Human pilot? No…a youkai? A living youkai?” You hear “Mayumi” say incredulously. Turning around, you see a boot kick open the panel of its grounded mech. Out emerges an armored humanoid…being. Is she a youkai? It looks like she’s made of clay as well…but much more durable than these false mecha. You thought she was part of the mech, just like the other ones. “You’re working against Lord Haniyasushin?”

“I’m here for art lessons from her, actually!” You blurt out, buffing out your chest. “Sorry about the confrontation.”

Mayumi raises an eyebrow, “And you, youkai, are…?”

“I am…”

[ ] Mizuhashi Parsee, a fellow artist
[ ] Mizuhashi Parsee, a bridge keeper in Old Hell
[ ] Mizuhashi Parsee, a mercenary MechWarrior(™)
[ ] Mizuhashi Parsee, a mysterious loner with a dark heart

[x] Mizuhashi Parsee, a fellow artist

“And why were you serving on the side of the enemy?” Mayumi points her sword at you accusingly.

“I was kidnapped and conscripted.” You tell the truth. “I was here for art lessons from your master, honest! I even had an offering for you but it’s currently on the other side of the battlefield. I’ll see if I can talk to Yuuma to get it back.”

“With those piloting moves? I find it hard to believe you were just an artist.”

Your eyes narrow, “I played quite a bit of the video game your massive multiplayer tabletop session here is based on.”

“Ah…” Mayumi nods, “That must be how you got the beast spirits’ attention. Very well. Ahem.” Picking up a loudspeaker, Mayumi shouts, “We got your prisoner…err…”

“Mizuhashi Parsee, I’m a hashihime from Old Hell.”

“...Mizuhashi Parsee here! You’re not getting her back for a bit!”

Mayumi then ties a rope around your wrist (just one, not even bothering to cuff you properly) before leading you into the fortress-city’s walls.

And at the gate, observing the battle through a pair of binoculars, is a blue haired sculptor with a very much divine air about her. This is no lesser goddess you ran into during your brief forays above ground. No, this is a primordial entity, fattened on worship from a large, if deceased, populace.

“Master Keiki!” Mayumi reports, “I’ve caught a prisoner of war!”

Keiki Haniyasushin looks down at you, curiously. “That does not look like an eagle spirit.”

“No, this is a hashihime from Old Hell, who claims to have been conscripted while traveling here for art lessons.”

“She’s telling the truth.” Keiki declares before you even prepare to defend yourself. “The paint under your nails tells me as much. You may release her and return to your duties.”

Mayumi nods, and lets you go, before leaving you alone with Keiki.

A few moments of dramatic silence ensues, an artist’s attempt at dramatic airs, occurs before Keiki asks, “Tell me, why do you do art?”

“To make other people jealous of me?”

“Hmph.” Keiki doesn’t seem disappointed in your reply as you expected. “So, you draw for others.”

“In a way…yes, you can say that.”

“Most do.” Keiki leads you onwards into the fortress-city. Rows upon rows of haniwa stand guard over the streets, while the faint shades of human spirits, condemned to the Animal Realm by sin, hurry to and fro between the various buildings, whose purposes are hard to discern at a glance. “While one may idealize the artist as one who expresses their inner self to the world, historically, those who find steady employment as artists tend to work for their patrons.”

“And you?”

“I turned the earth into clay for humans, I taught the secrets of pottery to benefit humans, and now, I mold the clay into weapons to protect humans.” Keiki smiles, “But I do enjoy it, it is what I was born for, after all.”

“From…right…that.” You recall what Haniyasu came from. Keiki doesn’t seem to mind, but Izanami sure would if she was listening in.

After all, someone liberated her from the Underworld before Japan was created, and she could do whatever Izanagi could.

“It is surprising that you would come to me. While I do know of many ways to paint haniwa, and can wield a brush well, I am not so well-versed in the art of portrait and landscape-making through the medium of oil and water.”

“Actually.” The two of you stop in front of her massive workshop that forms the heart of the city. The entrance is framed by calligraphy and depictions of humanoid figures toiling and crafting, a testament to the sort of spirits serviced here. Inside, you can see the faint glow of the kilns, and the moving figures of haniwa baking more of their fellows in the forge…alongside the toy ‘Mech parts she was using in their little war. You pause, running your hand on the stone doors. “I was hoping to learn pottery from you as well as painting techniques.”

“And why is that? You found eminence and purpose in crafting clay with your own hands?”

“That and diversifying my talents.” You say, not quite understanding what exactly were the chain of choices that led you here in the first place. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Bob Ross winking at you and giving you a thumbs up. “And yes, after piloting one of Yuuma’s creations, I can see what pottery has to offer.”

“If one of their crude models can get you inspired like this, then…” Keiki throws open the door, “This workshop ought to draw you onto the path.”Inside the workshop, the air is thick with the scent of wet clay and the metallic tang of tools well-used. The tall ceiling allows for the half-finished sculptures of various gaming miniatures (you recognize at least three different wargames in here) to stand tall on display while hordes of haniwa tend to them with brushes and glazes. Shelves line the walls, overflowing with jars of pigments, brushes, and carving instruments of all shapes and sizes. Raw clay lie in piles across the concrete floor, waiting to be molded.

“Art gives us purpose, art is purpose.” Keiki turns towards you, a softer look on her face, “In a way, you evoking jealousy in many ways is an artform, if a despicable one. So why not find a reason within yourself to pursue art for its own purpose?”

Find a reason within yourself? It seems this goddess wants you to convert to her way of thinking before teaching you anything. Fair enough. You walk to the front of the landing and stare down at the busy haniwa. Great chunks of carved clay are born on conveyor belts and great chains into the furnaces, for more to be made. It is practical, yes, but if Keiki really just needed soldiers, she would not have bothered glazing or painting most of them. Yet…she does so regardless, for her own pleasure.

So why can you not engage in an activity for its own pleasure, aside from feeding on jealousy? You suddenly experience a vision of future Parsee, overweight and bloated from online jealousy, sitting on a gaming chair like some sort of streaming youkai slug.

Whatever you will become, you will not become that. Of course not! What you will become…

Will become…

You still cannot change the fundamental issue of your very existence

“That’s right.” An enlightened crisis strikes you. “I am an artform! You see this?” You point at yourself and quote something you found online, “This is art right here, I'm doing it right now. This is performance art! This is a living painting you're seeing!”

“Eh… that’s not quite what I meant.”

“No, Lord Haniyasu. Don’t you see? We’re just dancers on someone else’s strings! No different than puppets on TV! We are born, we act, and we die according to the whims of a cosmic artist painting a story!”

“I suppose you can see fate itself that way?”

“No no no, it’s not fate, it’s a will. Call it a universal will or something like that…here.” Frantically, you grab the sculpting tools from the shelf and start working on an untouched block. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but if I am correct then…”

You start by slicing large chunks of clay off the block into a roughly humanoid figure. Then, with unpracticed hands, you begin crudely chiseling a human out of it. A simple triangle that you hand-mold is the nose. A pair of orbs you rolled becomes the eyes that you jam in sockets. You carve hands and feet out of flattened disks before molding them on, and then attempt to sculpt a torso by eyeballing it and semi-randomly carving what you think musculature looks like on a person.

After two hours of non-stop work, with Keiki staring at you the whole time, you turn and shout. “BEHOLD, A MAN!”

Keiki’s face slumps into her hands as she gazes upon your “magnificent” sculpture. “I would like to say it is good for an amateur, but that would be lying…first of all, why are its facial features and hands so big?

“They’re the most sensitive portions on a human…and by extension, to us. They’re what a human uses the perceive the world…and expect from it. I exist…because humans want to know why they become unreasonably jealous of other people. ‘A hashihime cursed me’, they would say. And so, hashihime had to exist. They also do not remember when they discovered the art of pottery, so a god must have taught it to them. Perhaps that was always the case, do you remember?”

Keiki remains silent for a few moments. “That is how it always has been, yes. Gods exist for humans, and humans exist for gods as I previously said. But this is the first time I have heard a youkai declare that.”

“Well, upstairs in Gensokyo, it is semi-common knowledge that youkai feed upon the fear of humans, but they never consider the reciprocal: blame. Without youkai, without the veneer of mystery over the physical world, humans have nothing sapient but themselves to blame for misfortunes, for hardship. They could curse the gods, but it is unwise to curse those you worship. You suck in a deep breath. “We…exist for humans as much as you do.”

Keiki’s tone turns softer, “That is not entirely incorrect. But, mayhaps, you have some experience with excessive blame? Not every youkai comes from misfortune or bad events after all, such as the karakasa-obake.”

“I…But I exist solely so humans could blame their pangs of jealousy on something other than themselves. If I do not accept this existence, then I will crumble to dust, as just a common woman who should have died centuries ago. Yet I…”

“PARSEE!” You are interrupted by a familiar voice yell as a wheelbarrow crashes across the battlefield, smashing apart a clay mech in her way like the toy it is. Saishiki, bearing the offering of clay, comes skidding to a halt in front of the gate. “I was so worried!”

“Ah, I see you did bring an offering.” Keiki smiled, “You’re here for art lessons as well?”

“Uh, yeah!” The white-haired oni awkwardly scratches her hair, “Parsee recommended you.”

[ ] Let’s start with the familiar: painting
[ ] Try your hand at Keiki’s specialty: ceramics, first.
[ ] Let’s go out the left field and try sculpting with stone. As a god of the earth in addition to clay and pottery, you can do that too, right Keiki?

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

By performing in public in front of hundreds, and witnessing another one achieve it, she has gained the Will to Stand Up Straight.

By knowing when to evoke jealousy, and when to stop. By learning when to be human, and when to be youkai, she has learned the Rationality to Maintain Discretion.

By improving herself beyond her duties and roles, she Hopes to be a Better Person.

She has witnessed someone close to her gain the Fearlessness to Continue Living.

Discovering……the Expectation for the Meaning of Existence…

HEART OF _________ LIBERATION: 40%

[X] Let’s go out the left field and try sculpting with stone. As a god of the earth in addition to clay and pottery, you can do that too, right Keiki?

“Stone? I could teach you stone.” Keiki goes over to one of the shelves and pulls out a thicker-looking set of chisels and rounded mallets. “Here, there are your tools.”

“Eh? Nothing fancier?”

She twirled a small jackhammer around, “Not until you can carve some basic katakana into slate.” Keiki gestures at some roofing slates she has on the shelves, “If you would, carve out a “カ” onto one of these. Should be easy.”

You and Saishiki dutifully grab one of them and head over to one of the workbenches. Almost too eager, you begin winding up a large swing onto the chisel when Keiki grabs your arm.

“Parsee, you will break the stone.”

“Ah, right.” This isn’t hammering dolls into a tree, this is stuff that’s not supposed to break. “Well. Let’s try gently tapping it…”

“You measure and draw. Twice. Then start chiseling. This isn’t like painting where you can often fix your mistakes with a new layer.

“Got it…” You sigh, picking up a piece of chalk and carefully drawing the character onto the slate.

“Now, start chiseling, let me see your forms. It is indeed more effortful than clay molding, but for youkai like you who are naturally strong in the arm, it should be no more difficult than clay. And, because stone holds itself up better, it is better for detail work.” Keiki smugly places her hand against her chest, “Of course, unless you are very experienced with clay.”

“Ehh…” With your youkai strength, the slate you are carving is practically wood, though you also have no experience in wood carving. Much like the crude clay figure you molded, this piece of stone is turning out to be full of rough edges, scratches, and other undesirable elements that greatly reduce its aesthetic appeal.

“Chat is this for real?” You sigh, looking at your phone and considering whether or not to stream this. “No reception? In the one place around Gensokyo they probably do have cell phones?”

“You’ll need to pay for a SIM card first, and it will only work in the Animal Realm. Plus, the mafia gangs charge out the nose.” Saishiki says.

“Bollocks.” Nonetheless, you continue, with Keiki occasionally adjusting your hands to get better angles on the chiseling. Unlike with mere human strength and motor control, you chip off whole flakes of stone, and thus can leverage this to effectively bypass large portions of tedium that humans have to deal with. Keiki understands this, and you soon find yourself finishing steps in seconds what humans usually take minutes to do.

But, isn’t that counterproductive?

Aren’t you trying to kill time anyway by doing this?

‘Lady Haniyasushin…” You ask as you finish carving out the first letter.

“Yes?”

“Is there a slower way of going about things?”

She frowns, “You simply have to tap very, very lightly, ensuring only tiny amounts of material are removed at a time. But that is inefficient with your capabilities.”

“Yes, but…I am seeing if I can make the process more…entertaining? In front of an audience.”

“If you’re trying to make your audience fall asleep, yes.” Keiki sighs, “Sculpting is ultimately about the end product, not the journey, at least, that’s my opinion as a divine being on these affairs. The only time I had an audience was when I taught the first humans of Japan the secrets of stone and pottery.”

She waves her hand, and a stream of tools fly off the shelves. A block of stone levitates off from the ground, and you watch in fascination as chisels and hammers dash right at the stone, cracking it and breaking it apart in a cloud of stone dust. Half a minute of chiseling and working later, the cloud clears, revealing a small statuette of an elephant.

“Though, I suppose if the audience is interested in learning and taking notes, the journey is important. It’s all context.” She sets the elephant down next to you, “I’ve heard in the Outside World they’ve got these ‘3D printers’ that perform all of the sculpting for you, which may go too far in removing the journey altogether.”

“Well, some people just want to use the pieces without working on them.” You wonder if you could get reliable shipping to Gensokyo and run a model-painting business on the side. Nah, too much work, plus you’ve still got your day job that you’ve been stuck with.

You continue carving more characters into the slate as Keiki further instructs you. Inch by inch, flake by flake, you chisel out a simple haiku. It is nothing impressive, and, looking to the side, Saishiki had broken ten slates in the process but had gotten it done before you. You suppose it helps that, as an oni, she could just use the chisel like a pen while you actually still have to use a mallet.

“Hey…you ever thought of selling these things top-side?” You say, setting down the slate and touching the elephant.

“My hands are full just defending these human spirits in this reservation. Mayhaps if these animal spirits would leave them alone I would have time…or if I fail somehow.”

An explosion jolts the three of you. The various haniwa running the workshop turn, draw their weapons, and leave.

“WE’RE UNDER AERIAL ATTACK. THIS IS NOT THE MECH GAME THAT’S GOING ON!” You hear Mayumi shout.

“They convinced another human to attack us?” Keiki groans, “I’ve burnt a lot of resources fighting that ‘Reimu’, give me a few minutes.”

Wait.

You can make a god jealous of you.

“No.” You say, causing Keiki to look at you in surprise. “I’ll handle this one, you get some rest, Lady Haniyasushin.”

“Uhh…me too!” Your oni associate volunteers, not quite knowing what’s going on but eagerness on her face. “Is it a fight? Do we get to fight?”

“Likely.” You grin. Looking around the workshop, you pick out some things that may help you deal with the incoming challenger…

[ ] Weaponize the Meaningless of Existence. Lead the challenger on a wild goose chase. After all, you’ve been given the role of villain the moment you were released into the system.

[ ] Invoke your Courage to Protect. Just beat the challenger down.

[ ] Pretend to be one who is Faithful and Trustworthy. Reimu mentioned she was tricked by a beast spirit right? Convince the challenger of exactly that.

[X] Weaponize the Meaningless of Existence. Lead the challenger on a wild goose chase. After all, you’ve been given the role of villain the moment you were released into the system.

“Keiki! This is very important! I need your spare clothes and some blue hair dye, right now!

Keiki immediately figures out what you’re up to, you can tell from the look on her face. But either out of exhaustion or out of resignment, she quietly slides open a closet with some outfits…and hands you a bucket of blue paint.

“Close enough!” You say as you put on her painter’s garb and dye your head in the blue haniwa paint. Mayumi stares at you while you do this.

“You don’t look like Master Haniyasushin at all!”

“At a distance, a vague resemblance is all that’s needed.” You reply, handing the haniwa your own clothes. “Keep these safe for me, please, I’m going to go stop an incident resolver.”

Taking off, you see streaks of colorful light blasting haniwa after haniwa out of the air. Cursing your lack of flying practice, you move as fast as possible towards the source. A particularly black-and-white source.

“Kirisame Marisa…”

Marisa’s eyes glow red. “Keiki Haniyasushin! Today is the day you will fall before the might of us beast spirits! I have brought a living human to best you, your defenses hold no sway here!”

“Try as you may, you will not best a goddess!” You shout back. Without even waiting for a response, you pull out your first spell card, “Grandpa Hanasaka, Jealousy of the Kind and Lovely!”

“Huh?” You hear the beast spirit inside Marisa say, before your large green bullet nails her with a direct hit. “That’s new!”

“Yeah! You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you, you little beastie! But this goddess has got many tricks up her sleeves!” You shout back as you sway around the air in a defensive flying pattern, hurling the large green bullets that spread petals of jealousy behind as they travel through the air. Marisa’s instincts dodge the ones after the first, but that’s okay, you’re not here for a standup fight.

“I think I’ve seen this pattern before.” You hear Marisa’s main self speak to the beast spirit possessing her.

“This wicked goddess is a goddess of sculpting! She experiments with things she steals from others! Just keep fighting!”

You dodge the flurry of lasers, which seems to be much easier for now after dicking around the battlefield in that Axman. Perhaps your situational awareness has gotten better? Or your peripheral vision has improved?

Speaking of vision, “Go, my haniwa double!” You say as you call up an illusory duplicate, a spell card fighting trick you picked up a long time ago. Swapping places with it a few times, you taunt Marisa by circling around her for a bit without fighting back.

“Haniwa clones? Interesting, but not clever enough! I’ll simply obliterate both of ya!” Marisa yells, “Love Sign: Master Spark!”

“Missed!” You call out from the other side, as the Spark strikes your duplicate and vaporizes away its existence in a wave of heat and power. “Green Eyed Monster, Jealousy Sign!”

Instead of having the spell card’s tracer track Marisa, however, you declare it backwards, and the tracer inverts its logic, trailing you instead after its initial wandering phase.

“Wait what? What sort of spell card…”

“Catch me if you can, foul beast spirit? Or will you go back to licking your privates in a cave like the filthy creature you are?”

“OH NOW YOU’VE DONE IT.” The possessed Marisa yells, revving up a second Master Spark and aiming it at you, pulling the trigger without waiting for it to fully charge. Thus, you do an awkward mid-air roll to get out of the way of the thin beam, but it still grazes your arm and stings.

“Fuck.” You dodge between the stalactites of New Hell as you make for a ceiling cave. You have no idea where it may lead, all you’re hoping for is to tire Marisa out. After all, even if she is more powerful than you in most capabilities, she is still a human, and tire easier.

But if so, why do you feel more and more exhausted as you weave through the tunnels, while Marisa doesn’t seem to be letting up at all?

“Curse…me…and my…NEET…lifestyle.” You cough, wheezing in air as you keep flying through the caves. Soon, you reach a place where light shines through an opening: a pit to the surface. You’re singed and bruised with the stray shots Marisa’s gotten through to you. Her pot lasers and swirling star danmaku are truly fearsome, and the chaff your spell card is leaving behind you is not enough.

No way are you losing a battle of endurance to a human. “Chat…is this really happening?” You ask. No answer. As while you have connection now, you have not had the opportunity to turn on the stream.

But you have one last trick up your sleeve. You retrieve a hammer and nail from your pouches as you radically reverse direction mid-air and cut the spell card. “Malice Sign: Shrine Visit in the Dead of Night!” You yell, spraying out a stream of red bullets at Marisa who brakes in surprise, and rushing forward with nail and hammer, ready to impale…

An otter spirit?

“Guh?” You watch as the spirit yelps and dissipates. Looking around, you see that a massive swarm of beast spirits have poured in from the surface hole…this was one of their ambush points. You try firing more bullets off, but the spirits simply absorb them with their numbers

“Ha ha! We are the strong ones now! Strength in numbers!” The beast spirit within Marisa gloats. “Land the finishing blow on this lonesome, wicked god…hold on.” She squints. “You don’t look like Haniyasushin at all! Who are you?”

“Who cares, clearly this is another troublemaker!” Marisa yells back at her own possessor. “Let’s finish this in one decisive blow! Last Word…”

You see Marisa hold up her mini-hakkero, distending it into its individual components, before affixing it to the back of her broom. Immense amounts of ambient energy begin draining into it, including some of the beast spirits unlucky enough to be too close.

“...Blazing Star.”

It’s over. You lost. You’ve heard of how destructive this spell is from Rinnosuke. It can flatten a whole acre of forest. There is not much to do but brace for the hit.

You cannot counter, you don’t have an answer. Even though this is just danmaku play-fighting. You’ve never had to draw upon attacks stronger than that was needed to dissuade humans and surface youkai from crossing the bridge.

After all, you’re not strong enough to beat those that want to cross.

You’re not strong enough to stand up even against these beast spirits.

You’re meaningless, you’re not even strong enough to keep…

…to keep…even one…

…person…

INVIDIA CORROSI EST: GIANT KILLER

“Again, who are you?” Either Marisa or the beast within her asks in the midst of her spell card cast. You do not answer. The black, corrosive ink dribbles out of you along with the blue paint in your hair, as you raise both hands into the air. You no longer control your movements. You never controlled your movements.

“Those underground see only the lantern lights, reflected upon the murky stony sky.”

Your hands contort into chains and claws, as you raise them up high. Your physical form ripples. Something forms from your mass of bullets and gunk spilling out of you. A massive blade, one which does not belong to you.

Don’t ask me why, I desperately wish to be included in one joyous night.

Yan’s blade slams down into the mass of beast spirits, spraying out tangles of beanstalks that skewer even more of them. They then bloom and fruit, shooting out exponential amounts of beans that saturate the area completely with danmaku. The blade shimmers, more immaterial than the one Yan summoned, but even a pale imitation of such a move is enough to wipe the floor with these pathetic beast spirits.

“You…AHHHHH!!” The beast spirit inside Marisa screams as it is overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of bullets in the air and is blown straight out of the human. Marisa, however, continues and careens forward with Blazing Star, smashing directly into the massive sword blade and shattering it, wherein the fragments dissipate into aether.

She then collides with you, sending you flying straight into a rock wall and cratering you against it. You pass out for a few seconds from the raw impact, before kind of just limply crumpling onto the ground.

You’re still conscious though, so you haven’t lost.

“Eh?” Marisa says, clutching her head, as she leaps off the broom, “I feel…weird. That beast spirit…and you are…”

“Ugh…I’m not Haniyasushin.” You take off the beret and reveal your pointed ears. “I’m Mizuhashi Parsee, you know, that ornery bridgekeeper.”

“Ah.” Marisa takes off her (massive) hat as well to smooth her hair. “Looks like I chased the wrong person instead of the mastermind. Whew. Then again, I don’t think that Yachie fellow was being entirely honest, come to think of it.”

“Who? But yes, this is a conflict between the animal spirits and her alone. None of it threatens Gensokyo and the beast spirits are just trying to conscript people into helping them.

“Working us for free. Bleh.” Marisa remarks sullenly. “Nice Last Word you pulled out by the way, very stylish.”

[ ] That’s not my Last Word, it’s someone else’s.
[ ] That’s only partially my Last Word, sort of.
[ ] (INVIDIA CORROSI EST) That is my Last Word, yes.

[X] That’s not my Last Word, it’s someone else’s.

“You stole it?”

“I suppose?” You are not quite sure what happened.

Marisa grins, and raises her hand for a high-five. Hesitantly, you accept it, slapping her palm.

“And Patchouli accuses me of being the only one who stole spells! Ahaha!” Marisa slaps her hat on her knee, “And to think it’ll be the bridge-keeper of the underworld of all people who’s my partner in this respect.”

“It’s not intentional!” You protest. “I…don’t even know who I stole it from!”

“You don’t?”

“Well, I do…but there wasn’t a reason for me to steal it! I have my own…Last Words!”

You don’t.

You never bothered coming up with a Last Word-worthy spell card because there was no reason for you to ever use one. But you really don’t want this human who’s already beaten you up once to know about it…and especially since she knows Rinnosuke.

“Ahh, but you still stole it, didn’t ya? The justification ain’t important for when you borrow something until you die.”

“Isn’t it? Rinnosuke told me you really want to become a full magician.”

“Ah…”Marisa trails off, “You spoke with Kourin, that’s right. Yes, I do want to become a magician, it’s why I steal. But it’s not a justification! It’s just the motive for the crime. Surely you don’t have a justification that’s more just than mine.”

“Yeah…I don’t.” You mumble, looking away.

You do want to be someone you’re not, after all.

====

Marisa offers you a ride back to the Primate Spirit Garden on her broom, which you accept as you are rather exhausted. Keiki seems understanding enough about the whole being possessed thing, but was a bit less accepting when Marisa tried to leave with a suspiciously idol-shaped bulge under her dress.

You kind of coast through the rest of the lesson, being completely exhausted and all, but nonetheless still manage to pick up the basics of stone sculpting. Saishiki makes much more progress, which makes you quite jealous, which is good, you guess.

“Look Parsee!” She shows you the small Buddha sculpture she carved. You stare at your own, which more resembles a misshapen blob of fat more than anything else.

“That’s great…paru paru~”

“You’ve both done well for beginners.” Keiki says with a warm smile as she looks over your final projects for the day. What a good teacher-y smile that is. You figure she’s got to be good at this sort of thing as teaching the smelly, unwashed cavemen-Japanese of ancient times the art of pottery has got to have been difficult.

===

After saying your farewells, and coming home (and after grumbling about the ferry fees), you toss all your clothes into the washing basin before diving into the river. Stone dust and a bit of your own blood covered the golden locks of your hair, and mud from flying aggressively around the underground tunnels covered your exposed arms and legs. Strangely, the scratches and bruises you acquired still endured until now, healing much slower than before.

This was irritating, but not too painful. Must be a result of you getting older. How long do youkai live usually, anyway? You thought to yourself as you sank into the cold water. One thousand, two thousand years? Yamame is a few hundred younger than you, while Yuugi is a thousand or so older than you. Saishiki seems to be around the same age, while Horosha…he might have legitimately seen a living mammoth.

And Horosha complains often about his back, even as he repeatedly refuses to hand off his courier business to someone else, so something similar must be happening to you.

Just how much time do you have left?

You crawl out of the river and back onto the wooden “dock” you built just for your bathing purposes. Even after getting a shower installed recently, you still prefer the river water. Something about the coldness really agrees with you, or at least your pores.

Will anyone remember you after you die?

You sit there, wrapping the rough towel around yourself. Legs tucked to your chest and your arms around them.

Will anyone want to remember you after you die?

Who cares? You don’t live for other peoples’ sakes. You’re a hashihime, as long as you got your jealousy, do you really need any other source of fulfillment like the knowledge that you will have some sort of memorial?

Maybe you do.

After you dry yourself up, you stumble back into the house with the towel wrapped around you. Yan’s not home yet, so you light up your wood stove and put rice to boil alongside some meat, and then plop down in front of your computer once more.

Someone’s streaming on the discord. It’s SandwichEnthusiast. You open it up and see a hand holding a spatula, turning over what looks like…green onion pancakes on a grill? With seafood inside? Oh he’s making okonomiyaki, or rather a Korean version…was it pajeon or something like that?

“Oh hey there, Mizuhashi.” He says, in the voice of a tired middle-aged man. There’s something just slightly off about it. It’s too composed, too generic, like a voice formulated specifically to blend into a crowd and not be discerned.

“Greetings.” You say, booting up an autobattler game on the side. Darn it, you don’t have any fancy ingredients at home, much less seafood. Can’t make him jealous today, and you feel quite jealous yourself. Wait, wasn’t there a bulletin you saw in the village about Gensokyo expanding to include a shoreline? Maybe it’s time to get seafood then.

“Never thought you’d be interesting in watching someone else cook.”

“You have no idea what I’m into.” It’s true. “Watching someone cook is kind of therapeutic"

“Same for me…cooking I mean.” He flips one of the pancakes, “Cooking these pancakes in particular…reminds me of better times?”

“Better times?”

“With, you know, people I like.” He sighs, “Ah, I wish she was still here to enjoy this.”

“I’m literally right here.” You hear his wife call from the other room, along with the faint cries of a baby. “I asked you to make the pancakes you dork.”

“Oh right. Ha ha ha.” Something about Sandwich’s laugh feels very odd. “Funny…can’t seem to discern…nevermind.”

“So…how do you make these pancakes, anyway?”

You do not expect SandwichEnthusiast to suddenly launch into a twenty minute long spiel on how exactly to prepare pajeon, starting with how the flour needs to be at just the right consistency, how to take the moisture of the air into account, and what brand of flour he recommends. Then comes the material regarding the kinds of vegetables that belong in the pajeon, the shrimp, squid and clams, the season of shrimp, squid and clams, how to cook the shrimp squid and clams…It’s all too much for you, you zone out about halfway through.

“...And that’s how you prepare the best haemul pajeon.” He declares proudly, with a smug overtone as he tosses the pajeon onto a plate.

“Huhhhh, can you um, write it down or something?”

“Sure, I’ll post the link to my blog.” He has a blog? You wonder as you click on the link.

Yeah, it’s a cooking blog alright, the stereotypical sort where there’s too much story and not enough recipe. His op-sec is incredible though. A careful reading of the rather elaborate stories nonetheless tells you absolutely nothing about his status other than what you already deduced from your online interactions with this guy.

You make a note to improve upon this recipe and stream it next time to make him jealous. You then make a mental note to also figure out other luxurious recipes to see if you can make him AND Yan jealous. What could you make anyway? Better wait three days until the shoreline opens up and you can get some good fucking seafood. Man, it’s been so long since you’ve had any seafood…

“The gloves, take off the gloves Angie!” You only now notice that Sandwich’s stream had been dead silent for a good five minutes, “Sorry, technical issue.” He apologizes.

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry about it.” His hands are now moving to prepare side dishes now. What a good “malewife”. Thanks internet for infecting you with these new terminologies. “Say, Mizuhashi, what do you usually cook or stock the fridge with? That fried rice you made was pretty good.”

Ooh, good opportunity to make him a bit envious.

[ ] I just throw whatever’s in the cabinet on the stove. Who needs fancy cooking?

[ ] Rice balls I guess. I’m the “Spartan-maxxing” sort of person.

[ ] Come to think of it I should buy a refrigerator from the kappa…I mean hardware store. Haven’t needed one yet since all my food is eaten super-fresh.

[X] Come to think of it I should buy a refrigerator from the kappa…I mean hardware store. Haven’t needed one yet since all my food is eaten super-fresh.

“You get your food so fresh that you don’t even need a fridge, we-whew.” Sandwich lets out a whistle, “In the boonies you live in, do you just get your meat freshly slaughtered and everything?”

“Well, yes, you don’t?”

“No, over where we live, far from the farms and deep in Seoul, it’s either frozen or packaged by CJ CheilJedang’s materials. I prefer the latter, since their tech makes things remain almost as good as fresh, but it’s not the same, you know?”

You fail to mention that as a youkai who lives off jealousy, your need for food is less than that of a human. That, and traditionally you’ve just had salted mushrooms (and after the Artificial Sun went up, salted plums in rice balls) for when your stomach growls. Now though, you think you’ve been eating better.

You look over at your old wooden icebox. You’ve never cared before, but…is that mold all over the bottom part? Maybe that’s why you feel sick all the time. Drats, seems like you really should upgrade to a fridge after all.

“Damn, that really sucks, man.” You reply, before jokingly adding on, “I’d thought with all the advanced tech Korea has, you could just rewind food to a fresh state like a Youtube video, yes?”

A very long pause from Sandwich.

“...Yes, with some tech like Ratatoskr Corp’s rewinder, you can turn back the state of things, but that’s just not cost efficient for food, and it still tastes false. I’m not sure if there’s an actual way of turning back time, that…really works.”

“Wait, what corp?”

“Ratatoskr?”

You vaguely remember Yukari mentioning how your current streaming and gaming gear was sourced from “Ratatoskr”’s stocks, though you paid no mind to this at the time. “Yeah, I’ve heard of them before, what do they do?”

“They mostly do bulk same-day shipping and occasionally express “personal transportation” services, but no one seems to like the latter offering. I’m banned from taking the latter so I have no idea why. They bought out WeShip Corp that did all that previously, so people still call them by the old moniker of W-Corp sometimes.”

“Huh…interesting.” You’ll keep this in mind if you ever talk to Yukari again, which you feel like may happen soon if you keep humping the border with your antics.

More people come online after this, and you stream and watch streams while engaging actively with your community? Is that what they call it? Regardless, you put on the facade of an innocent, largely oblivious Iranian immigrant to Japan who’s sort of a country bumpkin. But despite so many people directly connected to you, you don’t seem to be getting much envy in either direction…irritatingly enough.

There’s a user called I_AM_WATCHING_YOU here, but they’re probably just meming. Weird that they’re muted though.

Tired, you say goodbye and log off, right around the time that Yan comes home, now quite late at night.

“Yan!”

“Hmm?” The boy lowers his toothbrush and looks over.

“Yan, we need a fridge, there’s two people in this house now and the old icebox is falling apart. You lived outside, so can you help me pick one out from the kappa’s stocks?”

“The…kappa’s stocks?”

“Most advanced technology in Gensokyo’s either made by them or dropped in from Outside. I don’t feel like bribing Reimu to let me Outside so we’re buying a fridge from them. I’ve seen them show off refrigerators in the Human Village before, but if you know kappa, they are notorious for over-promising and questionably-delivering, so I want your Outsider eyes on it.”

For the first time, you think you seem him crack a genuine smile, “My Outsider eyes…of course, Parsee. I would be happy to. You have the money for one, right?”

“I will have it. Tomorrow.”

===

The moment the sun rises tomorrow, you get up and fly out of the Underground to the Human Village at breakneck speed, with a slightly sleepy Yan in tow. No sightseeing, no thinking, for it is payday, and you want your cash.

“Sumireko Usami!” You call out, landing in the village square.

“I’m here, I’m here.” The Outsider states as she carefully approaches you with a paper envelope. You take out the money, pause for a bit at the presence of unfamiliar bills, before realizing that Japan no longer uses the Meiji-era currency most common in Gensokyo. The numerals on there are still discernable, and you mentally convert the dollar earning over to yen. A solid amount, not anything significant, and you ain’t quitting your day job, but enough to spare for some luxuries.

“Here’s your cut…” You hand over a fistful of cash to Sumireko, before spotting Reimu standing behind her and handing over some of the bills to the shrine maiden as well, “And…yours. Thanks for taking care of the border.”

“Food time!” The shrine maiden happily declares, flipping through the money as she practically, and somewhat literally, flies over to the rice merchant’s shop. It’s honestly kind of sad, from your now-somewhat wealthy perspective on things. But then again, you’re not one to appreciate…what…you…have…AARRRGHH!

Suddenly, you find yourself bent over, clutching your head in pain. You just felt like you thought the most intrusive thought ever, of something so patently horrific and antithetical to your existence that you could do little more than coil up and fight it with all you have. The intrusive thought is warm and sunny, but it feels like it’s burning your soul away.

“Parsee?”

The other people look at you worryingly. You huff, clear your head by violently ramming it into a nearby wooden post, and then turn back towards them, a false smile on your face. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been ‘fine’ way too many times. Parsee.” Yan complains.

“No really, I’m fine. I just happen to not have the fortune of good health like the rest of you. Paru-paru.” You say. That seems to calm them down as you display normal behavior again.

“Alright then grandma, let’s get you that fridge.” Yan sighs, “Where are the kappa anyway?”

“Underwater in that valley of theirs.”

You and Yan make your way over to Youkai Mountain’s Genbu Ravine, where the kappa dwell. It is a valley carved out by lava formations from when Youkai Mountain was still an active volcano, and you can see it clearly in the hexagonal stone formations that the shores seem composed of.

“Careful Yan, as a human I wouldn’t stand too close to the shore. The kappa might decide to steal your shirikodama.” You say, deliberately trying to scare him.

“Directly…from me?”

“Yes, they’ll reach in and just YANK it out of you.”

He doesn’t react facially, but you do see him carefully pull up his pants and adjust his cape. A few moments later, even that facade breaks as he yells when a black-haired kappa comes peeks out of the water, before sighing when he sees that it resembles a child.

“Oh, it’s just a human…”

“No Yan, that’s a kappa.”

Slowly, Yan backs away. “Do…all youkai in Gensokyo look like humans?”

“Yeah, the better to trick and EAT humans! Ahahaha.”

The kappa sticks out her tongue at you. “Hey! I’ll have you know we’ve not needed blood or your shirikodama ever since we got that salt mine up and running!”

“...Does that imply you HAVE been eating them from humans?” Yan asks.

“...No comment. Aaaanyways. What are you two outsiders here for?”

“I’m looking to purchase a refrigerator.” You think for a moment, then add on, “Purely a refrigerator, along with a freezer, with no capabilities beyond that.”

“Oooh, a customer? I got…” The kappa is promptly pulled down into the water as three more kappa show up. “...refrigerators! Yes! They’re on sale too!”

You watch, stone-faced, as the process repeats with more and more of these rubber-suit wearing creatures mobbing the shore, fighting over each other to sell you a “refrigerator”. Soon however, it became clear that most of them only have consumer-grade refrigerator-adjacent offerings, but some of them really do have a couple models of proper fridges, though most of them are geared towards the perfect temperature for cucumbers.

[ ] The “DIY” model of fridge, with a separate motor unit. You have plenty of space under the bridge so it’s not like that is a significant concern. This is the cheapest option

[ ] The “conventional” model that totally doesn’t have any bells and whistles.

[ ] The “bells and whistles” model that has all sorts of unnecessary, cucumber-oriented features.

[ ] A mysterious, matte-black one sold by an apparently mute kappa

[X] A mysterious, matte-black one sold by an apparently mute kappa...THE BLACK SILENCE

===

“How much for this?” You ask the old man tending to his product. He holds up three fingers. “Three what? Three cucumbers?”

He shakes his head, holding up five fingers, then flexed his hand once to raise ten fingers, and then again. “Five…hundred cucumbers? How much do cucumbers cost in yen?” A hundred fingers again. “Ahh, got it.”

You run a price comparison with the other models. The base model’s two hundred cucumbers cheaper, but it is after all, a base model. The other two are two hundred cucumbers more expensive, but would also not contain any…surprises.

But surprises means streaming material! You mentally calculate. If the refrigerator grows a mouth and eats Yan or something, you’ll have plenty to talk about or even livestream the event. “I’ll take it.”

Carrying the refrigerator back home on your back was more strenuous than you expected. Odd, previously you could carry such weight without too much issue, but now your back positively aches.

“Tired, Miss Parsee?” Yan asked as you two hoist the fridge to an empty spot in your kitchen.

“No…yes…maybe.” You begrudgingly admit. “Oww…I probably need to physically exercise more…like you regularly get to do as part of your job…paruparu.”

Yan rolled his eyes, and led you by the hand over to the sofa. “On your front.” He ordered.

“When did you get so dominant-AIIEEEEEE” You let out a very unbecoming screech as the boy pressed down on your back. Your vertebrae cracked with several very concerning sounds as he began rolling and squeezing the taut, underused muscles.

“Can…you be a bit more gentle-ARGGGHH.”

“A thousand years of bad posture and lack of maintenance.” Yan muttered, “Look, grandma, you really got to properly stretch once in a while or else this happens. You got strength even the most augged Grade 1 Fixers would be jealous of, and it’s this stiffened.

“I DO maintain the bridge, you know?”

“It’s not about using it, it’s about…ugh.” He squeezed down hard on a knot, causing you to claw at the sofa and hiss in agony. “You…need…to…relax.”

“I relax by eliciting jealousy, thank you very much. And I never…AHHHHH!!!…needed to…AHHHHH!!!”

“I’m not saying you needed to see a masseuse, I’m saying that you needed to at least do stretches.” He complains, now moving down to your legs.

Your legs are a lot less stiff, for some reason, and you quietly enjoy this segment of his treatment. There’s a little bit of anxiety at letting this human interact with you this closely, but you reason it’s strictly professional. After all, it’s not like the hot springs are an intimate setting either.

At the end, as Yan finishes up with a series of hard knocks and pats, you stretch as he insisted, and feel a good deal lighter. Perhaps hunching over the bridge rails (and more recently, hunching in front of your computer) was not such a great idea in retrospect. Sure, you are more durable, but physical pressures on your body remain.

“Thanks.” You say, a little begrudgingly. “Now let’s wire the fridge.”

You two had to pull a wire out of the wall and use multiple Youtube tutorials to figure out how to safely splice it, as while the kappa-made wires were largely based off of modern Outside standards, they used an odd antiquated knob-and-tube installation for the internal wall setup. You almost fried your hands on one of the wires before Yan quickly went and shut off the circuit breaker.

When you’re finally done though, the fridge begins humming, and lights up. This model didn’t have an ice maker, but you figured that adjusting the plumbing for the fridge would’ve been an even worse nightmare.

“Any idea what we should call this?” Yan asked, “It’s a rather…unique model.”

“It’s black and its creator was rather silent. Let’s call it the Black Silence fridge.”

Yan visibly cringes at that name, but nods nonetheless, “S-sure, I suppose.”

Now that you have a fridge, it’s time to stock food. You have a human with you now, and humans can’t live just off of rice balls and cold tea. Besides, Yan’s a growing boy (you think), who needs quite a bit of nutrition to grow out of that manlet status into a height you could feel properly jealous about.

The underground grows some crops, most of which are designed to be distilled into alcohol, as oni here largely subsist off of alcohol and meats. Lizards raised on mushrooms was the standard, but with the dawning of the Artificial Sun and the reopening of trade with the surface, the usual selection of livestock could also be found.

The farmer oni seemed quite surprised at you shopping around so much, and even more surprised-and rather disturbed-at you actively making small talk when shopping. Mizuhashi Parsee was not one to buy more than liquor and rice at the market, so when the bridgekeeper came out with a cartload of meat, vegetables, condiments, and other miscellaneous groceries, it drew some eyes.

“Oi, Yan!” You call out as you begin stocking the fridge, back at your bridge-house, “Let’s have a hotpot tonight, I’ll invite Yamame and Saishiki and…”

As you produce a length of pork, the fridge abruptly grew an tubular appendage which vacuumed the meat in. As you stare, whirring noises come within some indecipherable part of the fridge’s internal structure before a simple black metal plate is dispensed, with the pork cut up into perfect shabu-shabu thickness slices.

“Eh?”

“Parsee?” Yan called from his room, “What’s going on?”

“I was just talking about how I’m going to do a hotpot…”

Fwoom, the bok choy you’ve held in your hand disappears up a tube, and soon, another plate is produced, with the vegetables sliced up just perfectly.

“Wait…” You hold out a daikon as Yan strolled into the kitchen, confused. “Hotpot?”

Daikon goes up the tube. Daikon comes out the tube, peeled and sliced. This time, however, the machine makes a weird growl that sounds vaguely of satisfaction.

“Whoa.” Yan remarks with a sense of wonder. “That’s fancy. Won’t see that in the parts of Seoul I lived in.”

“Hmm…meatballs?” You say, holding up a head of garlic and another length of pork. Dutifully, the fridge vacuums up both components, makes some grinding noises, before dispensing meatballs…with half-cloves of garlic embedded within.

“Not ideal.” You mutter, staring at the half-finished product. “You tried.”

You freeze as the fridge makes a small whining sound. “I mean…you did your best, it’s okay, next time, chop up the garlic into finer pieces.”

Another whine, albeit one in a chirpier tone. Great, the kappa made this thing sentient, or at least responsive to feedback more than a drunken oni. You then proceed to order it to hotpot-treat the rest of the stuff you planned to serve tonight, and it dutifully did so with the tofu, the beef, the mushrooms, and the fish.

“Good boy, Black Silence.” A happy whine. Did the kappa sew a dog’s brain in here or something? Your fingers wander over the small section of the fridge not devoted the freezer or the refrigeration section. There’s no screws, nothing but smooth black metal. Maintaining this thing would be impossible without taking it back to the mute kappa, but then again, it’s not like you know anything about fridge maintenance. You could probably Youtube it? Maybe?

Eh, you’ll worry about the fridge later. Seeing Yan looking intently at the fridge, you foist some of the groceries onto him. “Go tell the fridge to prep these, I need to go call our guests.”

====

“Yamame! Yamame!” You call out in front of the spider’s (rather fancy) dwelling. “You want to join me for hotpot today?”

“Parsee? Inviting people over? That’s new.” The spider says as she dangles down by a silk thread, a surprised smile on her face. “I did have plans for a construction job…but eh, that can wait! You got crickets?”
“No but I got shrimp!”

“Good enough.” Yamame drops down onto the cave floor and stretches, “I’ll bring my own crickets. Who else is coming?”

====

“Saishiki Saishiki!” You rap on the door of the oni.

“Parsee!” The oni slides it open, a warm, inviting look on her face, “Whatcha got going on to be so enthused?”

“I bought a fridge!”

“Great! Uh…what’s a fridge?”

“Like an icebox, but electrical and colder. You should get one too! To celebrate, you want to come over for hotpot?”

“Do I ever? Let me grab some drinks and I’ll be right there!”

====

The thought hits you as you look around in your cramped kitchen. Inviting people over for dinner…When’s the last time you did that? If ever? It’s not even a distant memory…you have no memories of that at all.

Oil pops and dances on the surface of the broth, carrying the rich scent of meat and spices through the small room. The oni and the spider are already getting drunk, their cheeks flushed and their laughter getting progressively louder. While the boy is only taking small sips, all cautious-like with a side-eye towards the other two, as if observing proper social protocol. You don’t have a hotplate, but a wok on the stove, with the dining table moved into your kitchen with a tatami mat as padding works just as well.

“Come on, a toast!” Yamame slurs out, raising up her sake dish so high it spills out over the top.

[ ] To health!

[ ] To career!

[ ] To the downfall of my enemies!

[ ] To…finding love again.