Stone and more stone together made stronger stone — or so the logic went. However true it was or wasn’t, it was the sort of logic that would appeal to someone made of stone. It would easily and concisely explain why such an individual would be climbing the Youkai Mountain, otherwise lacking in ready excuses. Thinking of excuses was, after all, difficult when your brain was also made of stone.

Komano Aun, the stony lion-dog defender of sacred spots in Gensokyo, was such an individual, possessing little in the way of wit owing to her gravel-filled head. She didn’t particularly feel a need for excuses but did have a desire to be stronger. Being one rock on top of a much bigger rock, she did feel stronger in some way, though it still wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, she was sure. Otherwise, she would have been able to do something about the problems that tormented others and thus her. She couldn’t, though, and so she had taken off from the Hakurei Shrine, her tail between her legs.

Thinking it over again made Aun slow her steady ascent. Being of very little brain, thinking didn’t do her much good beyond inducing her to sigh and pine to be back at the familiar shrine, staking her usual spot near the torii. There were other places in Gensokyo where she could do the same — she was heading to one just now — but it was the inability to do so there that pained her stony lion-dog heart.

This process of thinking, slowing down, and sighing repeated for the whole sojourn up the mountain. She was so lost in her thoughts that the wolf-people who usually harangued her said very little this time. They looked at her with pity and stepped out of her way, allowing her to continue on her way with nary a comment or entreaty to leave their mountain peacefully. All of this escaped her notice, mostly. It wasn’t until she was near the bounds of the Moriya Shrine that she even saw fit to heed that she had put some distance between herself and the other shrine.

To any human visitor, a shrine’s torii would evoke the hope that either ambition, desperation, or longing bring out. Howeve

The beast looked into the depths of Hell—and in it, he saw Fear itself: Its gaping maw gnashing, Its sea of teeth crashing against the souls of the damned. And what the beast caught sight of, laying beneath writhing flesh, was he himself—that which fell into the wolf's maw.

(A short outside of /shorts/.)

It was noontide over the sacred mount of Iwanagahime, and all about her burgeoned the brilliant life of Gensokyo.

You wonder to yourself when this became routine, feeling your legs move you toward your destination.

That is, the abode of one Hatate Himekaidou, a crow tengu such as yourself and a recently formed friend. You get the feeling that any such friends of hers would be categorized as recently formed, with her habit of staying inside all day. If it weren't for the rivarly with that other reporter girl, you suspect she'd not leave at all.

Your thoughts are interrupted as an obstacle impedes your progress - that is, the door. Fist clenched, you raise it toward the door, before letting it fall back to your side. Instead, you grip the knob and turn it, pushing forward. You're left unsurprised at the lack of resistance, taking a moment to excuse yourself in.

Slipping off your geta, you call out for your fellow tengu.

"Hatate, it's me. Here for your daily check up, wanting to make sure you're not dead or anything."

Not waiting for a response, you move further inside. Dust kicks up around your feet as you move, making yet another imprint on the floor. There's small lines clear of it, others in the shape of a hand. Feeling the impulse to slam your head against a wall, you force yourself to look away. Hatate's room is coming up anyway.

"My Room."

A sign hangs on the door, the wooden engraving clean and proper. Underneath is another, this time just made of paper, with a little doodle of the creator's head in the lower right corner.

"Stop barging in!"

Promptly ignoring this, you open the door. You're forced to notice is that there's absolutely no lighting in here. Letting out your first sigh today, you step in, closing the door behind you. You strain your eyes, only barely making out a silhouette in the darkness.

"Hatate. Yahoo, can you hear me?"

Nothing.

"If you don't say anything, I'll just take that as affirmation that your rival is so much better than you and like, totally well informed."

Seeing as you haven't been yelled at, you get closer, stomping on the floor in the meantime. You're prac

Big menus of cheap food with cheery service — that was the basic pitch of every family restaurant. And it was often a successful one, at that. The tengu-heavy ends of Gensokyo had seemingly become mushroomed with them, luring in people of all stripes and even species.

One of those famires chains was Freshtaste, an established chain with a new location in an equally recent commercial area. Rumor had it that the latest shop was struggling in its first year, but no one would know by looking: the lighting was as warm, the benches as soft, and the soft drinks as endless as any other location.

A crow tengu woman walked in through the sliding glass doors, the cool breeze of the air conditioning making soft waves in her wings. Her black hair was parted neatly down the middle, straight as a ruler, making her wide forehead protrude and gleam underneath the lights. She instinctively pat the satchel over her shoulder as she strode up to the counter, next to a blackboard listing the day’s specials and a small sign asking politely to wait for service. She glanced into the restaurant proper to get a feel for the room. This evening’s crowd looked like the usual assortment of half-awake salarymen, gossiping mothers, and teenagers filling the booths of the restaurant.

“Good afternoon! Sorry for the wait. Welcome to Freshtaste! How many tonight?”

The tengu turned to the waitress that had just grabbed her attention. She was a little on the short side, with her slender arms holding a small stack of menus against her chest. She was flashing a bright, beaming smile, and the bangs of her grass-colored hair were almost but not quite long enough to cover her eyes. The waitress’s wings flitted behind her. They were thin, almost translucent, with a trail of yellow along the edges that was so thin and golden that they looked gilded. Definitely not crow tengu’s wings; that much was clear.

“No trouble at all! Just me, please,” the crow tengu chirped.

Her smile widened, pleased with her luck as she followed the waitress to a quiet-looking booth. The waitress whisked herself away, returning moments later with a glass of water and a small b

"To the ruler, the people are heaven; to the people, food is heaven."
— Anonymous

[x] Fairies! Damn it!

You curse as you take her hand. "It's fairies. Has to be."

Sanae laughs, clearly less disturbed by that fact than you are. "What makes you think that?"

Ah. You never did tell her about them, did you? "A trio of them gave me some pretty bad grief yesterday. This seems like something they'd do."

"Hmm." She looks around yet again. "Well, I don't see any."

Dusting yourself off, you look again. Yeah, you don't see any either. But you do think you hear a faint giggle from the brush.

"Did you hear that?" You ask.

"Hear what?"

"... never mind."

It'll be no good if you crack on only your second day. As long as you watch your footing, you doubt there's much a fairy could do to you next to the river like this anyway. It would be pretty impressive if they managed to fell a whole tree on you.

Steeling yourself, you go back to work on a new cairn. You're making pretty good pace, actually, though you doubt you can keep this up all day.

*rustle*

Just then, you hear a sound in the brush.

[ ] <ignore it>
[ ] <quickly toss a rock>
==============================================================
Might get one in tomorrow, actually... but we'll see.

[x] Modesty is best.

You briefly consider taking credit for the whole thing, but decide not to.

"Well, I just mentioned the idea," You say, "Sanae agreed that it might be good so we went to discuss it."

Kanako seems a bit more appreciative of that answer. "Showing some initiative, I like that. Sorry, continue."

Feeling a bit awkward after being praised by a god, you take a few moments to recount where you were. "Right. So after the reporter left, we decided to make our way down to the village..."

Your retelling of the day's events echoes over the calm lake as Kanako and the frog listen. Neither seems bored, so perhaps you're doing a good job. You recount your encounter with the worshippers, Minoriko, and your trip to the village.

"... so, we ran to investigate and found the smith building on fire."

Just as you get to the part about the fire, Kanako speaks up.

"And then, a miraculous rain-storm put out the fire, right?"

"Oh," You say, "I guess you would know this part already."

"Actually, no," Kanako says, "I was just working away up here. Sanae asked for some heavy rain, so I sent some. She doesn't usually ask lightly, or think to tell me why half the time. Was my guess right?"

You nod. "It showed up in a few moments and put enough of it out that the villagers could handle the rest. We pretty much got overrun by a mob after that. They clearly knew Sanae did it."

You can see the old god's eyes light up at that. "Again, good work! That's exactly the kind of thing we need to be doing right now. How many will be coming?"

"They seemed pretty put off by our location," You say, frowning a bit, "We scouted it on the way back, mostly by foot, and can see why."

"How was it?"

You detail the attack, the dead youkai, your attack, and your subsequent dealings with the kappa. Although you try to give a neutral telling, the bit surrounding your attack and the fact that they seemed pretty happy about killing a man causes so

[x] Wait patiently.

Hina leaves you two to yourselves as she heads off, teapot in hand. After she's out of earshot, Sanae leans in close to you.

"This is weird," She whispers, "What kind of goddess doesn't have a shrine?"

You look around. There's definitely nothing resembling a shrine around, not even a small one. Nor is there anything resembling a path into or out of this small clearing. In fact, when you look to where Hina just walked off to you notice that the underbrush doesn't seem disturbed at all.

"Maybe it's somewhere else?" You whisper back, "We'll just have to ask."

She doesn't seem satisfied with that. "Hmm."

After a few minutes, Hina returns, carefully cradling the now heavier pot. With a wave of her hand, she makes a small bit of flame near the center of the stumps. Much to your unease, it's a bizarre whitish-purple color rather than a more normal orange.

"That's... scary," You mutter.

"It is." Sanae agrees with a nod, carefully focusing on it. "But I... think it's safe."

Hina just smiles. "Well, it won't hurt the tea. Just don't touch it yourselves, OK?"

"Hina," Sanae asks, as the three of you wait for the tea to brew, "Where is your shrine?"

Hina looks puzzled by the question. But after a few moments, she responds. "This isn't quite like the outside world. I can gather faith directly, without a shrine."

"Oh?"

"It's easy to believe in something you can see, right?" Hina giggles, "I just have to make sure to wander close to the village every once in a while. But I try not to get too close. I gather misfortune and curses, but sometimes they get loose from me."

That sounds dangerous, especially when uttered around that purple flame. Sanae, however, doesn't seem to pay it any mind.

"But, there's at least one major shrine here... are you saying goddesses like you don't need even a minor one?"

"That's right,&quo

The window didn't make much sound beyond a patter when I drummed on it, like unsteady rain. My gloves, besides being a showy part of the uniform, were good at dampening those sounds. It still would have annoyed anyone around -- if I wasn't the only one in that lonely sweatbox of a patrol station. As it was, I was free to drum away, ready to slide the window open if somebody did show up. If only I'd brought a book.

My ears drooped as I gave a sigh. Half a bloody week since I received orders to report to my new outpost. Nevermind that I lived in a settlement on one of the furthest (and cheapest) peaks. No, Koyomi, you're needed for the "good of Tengu Society". That's why I joined up with the guard officially out of academy, of course. My definition of doing good for society, however, must have been different from theirs.

You see, while this merry band of castoffs that I belonged to was officially called the Mountain Outpost Peacekeepers, meant as a way for the higher-ups to maintain a certain presence in what would otherwise be the outlands, we were functionally little more than a tourist information booth. Not a decade ago, this whole area was an unfarmable mess. Now it was a gathering spot for humans and youkai alike. We barely had any jurisdiction over the place, considering it was between us, the kappa, and the humans in terms of territory, and that was probably what made it popular. Any political fallout from our actions, and we'd be without recourse; angry humans and kappa breaking down our doors wasn't something we really wanted to deal with. That's why our everyday role was a safe one: finding and returning lost property, giving directions, promoting businesses by distributing fliers and vouchers, picking up trash...

I wasn't fond of it, but I could do it. The part that chafed me most was the short notice, which left me without much time to find a place to sleep or store my belongings, which were still in a shed back on the furthest peak.

One thing to know about this outpost is that few people lived here. From the constant stream of faces that you could see every night, it may have not seem that way, but this was e