Youmu Konpaku, Keeper of Hakugyokurou, reached for the third deck and drew.
Damocles Raw energy crashed across the field.
Spell cards. Reimu had been so proud of them.
Gehenna Spidery metal limbs twisted and shattered.
They had rules. For the beauty of the duel.
Jericho
This deck had no rules.
Jaws of the Beast
Her first deck was her own, made when she was still young.
Mjolnir
The second they had made together. Him through his continuous probing of the rules, her through the application. We had quite the run, didn’t we?
Ouroboros
The third deck was his. The deck that broke the rules. The deck of last resort.
Skyfall
In all her centuries, she had never drawn on it once.
Armageddon
Now, it won’t be enough.
Ragnarök
Not with a whole world against us.
Loki’s Children
But I can still buy them time.
One by one her spell cards crashed into the waves of metal flooding down upon them.
* * *
Tired, so tired.
The things had finally stopped. Kanako must have done it. Youmu was too drained to celebrate yet. Later.
Hakurouken was the only thing that held her even remotely upright. Not at all proper, but you never complain, do you, old friend? Roukanken had not even that dignity. Though she still held fast to it’s grip, it’s full length sprawled in what had been grass, but was now just the mire churned up by every battle. Yet wonder of wonders, even that preening dandy was quiet. Found enough glory, even for you? You old rascal. Well, you wanted an adventure, didn’t you? Still, not right to let you two rust. I’ll get you cleaned as soon as I can catch my breath. At least things didn’t hurt anymore.
“Hey.”
Komachi? Yama Eiki’s ferryman, women, whatever… One of these days…“Long way from home.”
“Had a special pickup.”
“‘Fraid I forgot my fare. Sorry.”
“This one is on me.” The diminutive Yama emerged from her ferrywoman’s shadow. Which was odd. She never travels…
The Yama quirked a smile. “After all these years, you did not think I was going to leave you in the hands of a stranger, did you?” Then to Youmu’s surprise, the judge, normally so prim and proper, hugged her fiercely. “It has been so long.”
She looked back at her old shell still kneeling in the mud, supported only by her loyal swords. “Ah, I never sorted the shrine…”
“Oh, don’t you worry. Tam bought it out. Ken’s taking over the old Sawatori plot.” Which made sense. The Sawatoris had no children and were getting too old to work it, and Tam really was the right one…
“But where did he get the money?”
“Never you worry. They worked it out. It was very clever of them. They’re grown, and don’t need their mother to solve every problem, you know.”
“Huh. Good luck getting her to believe that,” but Youmu smiled anyway, then paused, a thread of fear winding down her spine. “I guess it’s time, isn’t it?”
The Yama just squeezed her tightly. “Oh hush. It’s already done. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll show you the way. He’s been waiting.”
It was an odd feeling, a lightness, as though a burden she did not know she was carrying was unexpectedly lifted from her shoulders. “Really? Now?”
The Yama smiled softly. “Yes, now.” And then she was there, and he was there, and as she buried herself into strong warm arms enfolding her they wept in joy.
She was home.
So this is a combination of a couple of possible endings I was playing with for the Girl in Green/Stories/Strange Thread stories. While it is nominally set in the Touhou universe, Strange Thread was set somewhere between 200 to 300 years after present day. This is old Youmu. Konpaku can live a very long time, but not forever.
The third deck was always going to be part of the last spider fight, but the second sequence hadn’t always been part of that. I sot of figure she would either keep fighting monsters until one got her, or she would die in bed. But I’d think regardless of when or how she goes, it always plays out sort of like that. By this point she’s done everything she really wanted to do, and while there’s always more to do, it doesn’t have to be her, and she misses her husband.
So if you ,dear reader, wish to read the second half as many years alter, in a quiet place surrounded by her children, grandchildren, and even a few greatgrandchildren, that is just as likely as this version, and just as true to the character. Though, she would probably have her fare in that case.
“Yes. Why don’t you tell the child?” The woman stepped out of the shadows, tall, pale, with full gray wings. The sword should have been ridiculous. Who uses swords? But it was not. “Why don’t you tell him the truth?”
“Well, that’s a right complicated question, isn’t it? He’s a kid. Isn’t old enough for everything.”
“Child, has she told you she is not your mother?”
The boy merely looked confused. “Yeah. What’s that got to do…”
“Hrumph. Does he even know what you are?”
“Past’s dead, long time ago.”
“Not so long for us.”
“Maybe for you, but I’m not one of you, not anymore.”
“You were never one of us.”
“Maybe so, but it’s getting late, and we want to be before it gets too dark.”
“No.”
“Son, remember what I told you about the stars?”
“Follow the-“
“Shhh. Yeah, that one. Now run along, and when you see your mom, tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. Got tied up with… an old acquaintance.”
“Mom?”
The pale woman slowly circled towards them. “No. I think he should stay. You never know what a child might encounter in the wilds, and it is a very long way.”
“I promised his mother. You’ll not take him.”
“You? You break oaths as easily as change cloths. Or shed them…”
“Made a lot of bad choices you mean. Paid for ’em too. Saying I should go back to that? Not very holy of you, is it? That’s not the way back.”
“And what would you know of such things?”
“Enough. Go home; you don’t belong here.”
The pale woman paused for a moment, then scowled like an oncoming storm. “To think, you of all things, almost had me.” Time felt like it began to slow, in that old familiar way.
“Run.” To his credit, the boy looked like he wanted to stay, but he did what he was told.
“Do not know what you hope to gain, but I will not allow it!” The sword was already in motion.
Two vows. She could not uphold one without breaking the other. She reached for the old power, sealed this time by only something as insubstantial as a promise. It parted before she even touched it. And miracle of miracles, it was there, bright and pure and warm like the sun in her hand.
Odd. It used to be shadow…
————————————————–
Have no idea if this will make it into a thing of any form, final or not, but here it is, as it is. As usual, it has musical inspiration. For today, it’s these two:
“It takes a lot to stop a garou in full war form. Two tons of crown vic and cowcatcher will do the job though. What’d you call it? Nonlethal or something?”
“Less lethal son. Nothing’s nonlethal. Even marshmallows can do you if they get you wrong.”
“That sure as hell wasn’t a marshmallow. You don’t play around, do you? And you told the shop guy you hit a deer!”
“Nah, some kind of animal. Gotta be accurate, you know. Not my fault he got it in his head it was a deer or something. And I don’t get to play around with you lot. Not like I get to lift and throw buses, you know. Be handy if that came with the badge but wishes and all that.”
“Why did he think it was a deer? There’re a lot of pigs too.”
“Geeze, if I hit a pig, it’d flip the car. Climb a tree before you hit a pig. Pass me another one of those would you?”
“Sure. Hey, thought you were always on duty?”
“Heh. I figure after that, I can take six or eight hours vacation. The old lady’s cat gets stuck in the tree afore then, deputies can handle it, least until morning.”
“Can never tell if you’re pulling my leg or not.”
“Son, have I ever lied to you? Besides, if you can’t take a joke, shouldn’t of joined.”
Rage is my birthright. Even before I knew the whole of it, it was there, waiting at the edges. It followed as I was shuffled from house to house. (No matter how many times the Board changed the name it doesn’t make it a home.) Long after no one else looked for me (if you cause them enough trouble, eventually they stop caring if they don’t find you) it was the one thing I couldn’t leave behind. I guess you can’t run from yourself, but I’ve always been a stubborn one. Comes with the blood.
The funny thing, it was mangos. Still don’t like them; they taste like nothing but sweet and everything sticky, but I was hungry, and thought he wasn’t watching. What can I say? I was a young punk. After he got done boxing my ears he said something like, hungry? you work you eat. He didn’t really speak English real good.
Now I know what you’re thinking, we’ve got a rep, and it’s earned. And he was an old man, maybe half my mass even before I’d finished my growth, but I didn’t. I mean nobody, at least no adults, had actually done that before. Half of them were so deep into that ‘touch them and they’ll break’ mind, and I figure the other half were scared of what would happen if I didn’t. Kids didn’t think that way, you know. Every new one who wanted to establish his place in the pecking order always picked a fight with the biggest one there. Guess the adults saw what happened to a couple too many who thought that was a good idea. But they were his mangos, you know? I can respect that. I’d be pissed if some punk was stealing my mangos and I don’t even like the things. So yeah, I followed him home. And it was a home, maybe the first one I ever had.
Look kids, I’m going to be straight with you; that was stupid. Following some strange dude I hadn’t even met off the grid? I’m lucky I didn’t get my liver sold on the black market with a side of fava beans. Sure most of those are stories, but most doesn’t mean all. There’s a lot of ways to get checked out early. If you’ve still got folks who give even half a shit about you, or grandparents or even an uncle or somebody you actually know, they’re going to be a way better choice than throwing in with some random old coot selling produce out of a truck that was probably stamped out the same day he was. But I didn’t, so that’s what I did. I got lucky. Or, knowing what I know now, it wasn’t luck at all.
I wonder if we aren’t all just pawns in some obscene game. And if I ever figure out who set the board, I will rip their heart out for all they’ve done.
Rage is my birthright.
Postscript: Crossover Queen’s Creative chaos (https://crossoverqueen.wordpress.com/) has been doing a fun World of Darkness/Kenshin crossover that got me thinking about how some of the various factions work, don’t work, and completely screw up. And what came out was another one of my patent pending ways not to start a story. Today’s edition: The Monologue.
I think we’re up to two dream sequences (technically three, though there the character merely thinks they are dreaming, WIP) one start after the inciting incident, one that was both ‘hello my name is Bob’ and a that’s what I Iook like in the mirror (WIP), one alarm buzzer (WIP), one breakfast is the start of the day, and I think that’s the count so far?
Before we get to the ficbit itself, some context. While I was starting on The Great Dwarven Cheese Scandal, I was working on characters, how they function, what their motivations were, etc.
One of the characters was an key actor in the story, a drifter with a dark history. Another was more a background flavor text character. The setting is scifi, but with things that go bump in the night. The trees don’t always like people. She was one of those things that go bump in the night. I expected her to show up occasionally, be creepy, and maybe chivvy the party out of areas where they’re likely to lose a hand, or worse.
Thing was, I realized if the drifter is a drifter, and she camps about in the area the story takes place in, he’s drifted through her domain. Which means they almost certainly have met and know eachother. Which means I need to understand how they interact. Right now, I find it easiest to just write a scene and see what makes sense, and, why not just start at the beginning: how did they first meet?
So I start up an rtf, name it Meeting Place (saving is like voting: do it early and often), because what else do you call a throw-away snippet? And this came out:
Meeting Place
“So much blood…” She was a tiny woman, barely as tall as his chest. Daintily, she picked her way through the carnage, arms wide balancing as she stepped from untouched patch to untouched patch.
Typical woman, he found himself thinking. More worried about getting a stain on her fancy dress, than what’s actually happening around her. Still, there was something odd about it. Odd about her. Most people recoiled at such a tableau, yet she… “You almost sound impressed.”
Her foot hooked on something, and she started to topple. Almost by reflex, he reached out and caught her. He found himself looking into her wide dark eyes. Crimson flecks dotted her face now; not everyone had died in the initial crash. Fixing that had not been a neat process. “Isn’t it, thought?” she cooed dreamily as she began to lick the blood from his hands.
“Stop that!” He jerked his hand away. “That’s obscene!” Until that moment, he had thought he felt nothing. Perhaps that was not true.
She just regarded him coolly. “More so than this?” Her gesture swept the length of the convoy, or rather its remains. Nothing moved, save them.
“That was not the same.”
“Oh? Because the little voice in your head is telling you so? Is that what makes the difference? Leave me to my bread, and I’ll leave you to yours.”
“No.”
“Are going to stop me?” Her face was so close to his he could smell the tang of blood on her breath. “Careful, I might like that…”
——————-
So I’m writing this now…
Note, the final version probably won’t exactly match this, since some of the mechanics have changed, but I’ll deal with all that cleanup when it’s done.
The sky was a clear brilliant blue. It seemed somehow unfair that such a beautiful day could smell so horrible.
“Huh. Guess you’re not dead.” The medic stood over him. Which was wrong. Not what their medic said. No, it was that the medic was a girl. They did not make female constructs for that, and no proper true human woman would want to be anywhere near a unit made of constructs. He was still trying to make sense of this when three trails clawed an angry path across the sky. He grabbed her blouse and pulled her to the ground. There was barely time to cover her before shards like whipcracks tore overhead.
Fred. His name was Fred. Fred was dead. Which did not matter; they were on the wrong side of a creeping bombardment. He half carried, half dragged the strange medic with him. Have to reach the fortifications before the shells get here. Which meant they were charging a fortified position too, but there was no choice.
At the final rise, he hesitated. What was he going to do about the girl? Behind was being lashed by shrapnel. There wouldn’t be a safe patch among it. Ahead were the clear and marked fire zones of an entrenched opponent. There was no safety there either. It was only a moment, but it was enough. Something that felt like fire lanced through him and the ground spun up to meet him.
* * *
The sky was a clear brilliant blue. It seemed somehow unfair that such a beautiful day could smell so bad.
“Huh. Guess you’re not dead.” The medic stood over him. Which was wrong. Not what the medic said. No, it was that the medic was a girl. No proper true human woman would want anything to do with constructs. He was still trying to make sense of it when angry trails clawed across the sky. He grabbed air as she sidestepped. She slapped him, hard.
* * *
The sky was a clear brilliant blue. It seemed somehow unfair. The medic had lifted him by his collar, yelling. Which was wrong, completely. The medic didn’t do that. The medic wasn’t a girl. The medic was dead. He’d been caught in the bombardment. The shells were already carving their arcs through the sky….
“No!” Her face was right up against his. “Grass, log, now!” They were back in the same meadow, with the same fallen tree.
She let go of him and perched herself upon the end of the fallen tree, arms and knees crossed as she glared down her nose at him. “This had better be here next time I come back. Understand?”
Dialog only character vignette of a couple of characters from the WIP. This isn’t in the book, but I saw this video, and could just hear these two talking about each other. Enjoy:
Her: He’s just the sweetest guy. Always trying to not bother anyone.
Him: She’s just so driven. She know what she wants and just goes for it. Doesn’t let just about anything get in her way.
Her: And its not like he’s weak or anything. When he makes up his mind, and is there for you, he’s there, you know?
Him: She just keeps going too. She’s been through, well, hell, and keeps getting back up again.
Her: But sometimes I really wish he wouldn’t just let people walk all over him. Some of what those bastards have done, he should just kick them in…
Him: I know sometimes she’s hard, but she really cares about her people. She can be so sweet and gentle…
Her: …wantta rip their spines out and feed them to them…
It was ‘red tea,’ of course. That girl had likely brought it all the way out here from the manor. She had never liked being around it, and tonight of all nights, the thought that this could have been, could still very well end up being him… She wanted to cry, to hurl the cup, to do anything, but sit here, still, politely pretending to drink it and make small talk with this girl and her teddy bear.
But, Youmu did exactly that, because if she did not, he could still very well become that next pot. This she could not, would not allow.
“… friend new? I don’t think I’ve seen him? but I really don’t get to play with many people. He seemed sweet,” Flandre continued, offering tea to her bear.
She needed to deflect this line of thought now.
“Oh? Well, I don’t know. Say, what brings you out here. It is a long way from the manor,” she asked in smooth tones.
“Oh! I was out looking for someone to play with when the blue judge lady said I might find someone here. And I found you two! But you’re the only one who would play with me.” She thrust a lip out the first warm ups of a mighty pout.
It was a strange sensation. Like floating, or finding the earth itself had dropped out from under her. Carefully, very carefully, she put the tea cup back in its saucer, and the saucer and cup on the ground. Breathe. Just breathe. “Oh? She did? Perhaps you should ask her to play next time you see her.”
“Oh? You think so? That sounds fun.” Yama Shiki had set Flandre on them! How dare she? What gave her, even a Yama the right? She wanted to weep, or scream, she wasn’t sure which. Both? But she just smiled politely and nodded.
“Miss Flandre, your tea party has been very nice, but I am afraid I do need to go now. You be good for Remilia now, ok?” Youmu started to rise, take her leave before her host could protest.
“Aaww. Could you at least try my danmaku before you go? I’ve been working very hard on it.” Damn. There were rules now, duels very pointedly not to the death. No one was sure if Flandre even understood the concept of rules, much less, could follow them. “They say I play too rough. Maybe more people would play with me, if I went easier?”
Youmu actually blinked. Flandre holding anything back was… not worth testing if at all possible. “I really am sorry, but I really must go. I’m terribly sorry.”
“Oh. Well, maybe your friend could play instead?” Dammit.
“Well, maybe just one, ok?”
“Weeee!” Flandre went skipping into a cove of trees. Running isn’t honorable, is it? “Come on Youmu! this is perfect!” Isn’t possible, anyway, is it.
The cove had a natural clearing, possibly where some great tree of the past had spread its shadow then passed without successor. Moonlight filled the natural ring, and a dense short grass provided solid footing. She unhooked her Roukanken, the High Building Sword, from her back. Her Plain Building wakizashi, Hakurouken, would stay for now. Using just Roukanken, sheathed, was a risk, but a calculated one. If she could keep her to simply sparing, just the duel, there was a chance, there was hope. If she thought she could get away with Hakurouken alone, it would be better still, but she wanted that extra reach, quickly, if things went wrong.
They met in the circle at the appropriate distance, and bowed. The samurai girl presented the High Building, the child vampire, her Laevateinn, the crooked spear.
Youmu braced.
Flandre invoked the duel.
A single, solitary bead of light popped forth. It drifted lazily across the field, to fizzle itself out in the grass, feet away from her. I am not going to laugh. Laughing would be bad right now. Very bad right now.
“I held back really good? Didn’t I? See people can play with me now! Right?”
“Ah, yes you did hold back very well Flandre. But usually danmaku are more… curtain like.” She knew that was a mistake before the words were even fully out of her mouth.
“Oh I can do that!” Flandre invoked the duel. To late.
This one was a proper danmaku. She was sweeping the area with interfering waves. Very clever. The gaps were there, but not quite enough for her to slip through without a judicious strikes from Roukanken to widen the way. Methodically, she worked her way inwards, until, finally, her strike reached past Laevateinn, to tap Flandre on the nose. The danmaku was broken.
“Very good Miss Flandre. That was a good danmaku for play. I congratulate you on it, and may you develop it well.” Youmu had begun a bow in respect when, “Oh I can do better!” Flandre invoked the duel. Wait, that shouldn’t happen! was all that had time to flash through her mind before the bolts began to fall. Harder, faster, denser. She danced through the waves, finding or making paths as she could. Again, she broke the danmaku. Again, the duel was invoked without consent. She called out to Flandre. No response. Again, she broke the danmaku. Again the duel was invoked. This was wrong. This should not happen!
It was not until the first graze dragged a burning trail across her shoulder that she realized something else was wrong. These were not the proper “scoring bullets” of a correct duel; stinging, yes, but not truly lethal. These were death.
This had gone to far. It needed to end, now. Hakurouken had joined Roukanken as she carved her way into the wall of death. This was wrong. Duels were supposed to end, not repeat without end until one or the other collapsed from sheer exhaustion. She punched a path through the wave, more force than finesse. They were supposed to be mutual, affairs of honor and pride, not whaling on each other until someone breaks! She misjudged the next wave, and took a bad burn for her mistake, but she was through.
“Flandre!” Wave, poor timing. She rolled over it and was past.
“Stop!” Hakurouken, high block, entangle Laevateinn. Add force to break balance.
“This!” Roukanken, low under the tangled spear. Reverse strike. Use reach to hook feet. Topple.
“Now!” Laevateinn, hurl free. Hakurouken, modify blow, next to head, not head.
Flandre toppled to the ground, arms wide, the tip of Hakurouken’s scabbard digging into the dirt inches from her ear, Roukanken, high, ready to fall upon her like its namesake. Had this been a real battle, she would have had her legs cut from under her. This duel was over. She had to understand that, right?
But as Youmu stared into Flandre’s eyes, all she saw was madness.
The shockwave hurled her tumbling across the clearing. It was all she could do to catch enough footing to right herself in time the deflect the lance of fire crashing down on her, steel flashing in the moonlight. It was too late. She saw Flandre reach out and gather the ‘eye’. Her heart stopped. This was her true awful, the power to destroy, at will, as whim, whatever she chose. Will I see Hakugyokurou again after I have been judged? Will he be there? Flandre crushed the ‘eye’. A tree behind Youmu shattered with a sound like thunder, but the splinters showering her back felt welcome as spring rain. She charged into the wall of fire. The creature she now fought still thought this was a game!
Shards howled through the air like enraged hornets. Falling leaves and danmaku blended, as fire rained from the heavens. She flowed between the falling trees, her foe’s madness providing cover from their rage. Fiery lances arced through the maelstrom, carving limbs, whole tops, from trees just as her blades carved them away from her, as she cut her way towards the heart, an ever tightening maze of death. The forest fell, broken and burning, only to rise again, and fall again, shattered into the maw of destruction. Still, she could not stop, would not be stopped. Shard and fire tore her beyond counting. It did not matter. Nothing mattered, save stopping this monster before it was set loose on the one she loved.
She was close, oh so tantalizingly close, long days of sun and idle conversation on the other side of the nightmare, but it was not to be. She had seen the pattern even before it closed, but had not, quite, been able to break it. It had been driven her up a falling trunk, shocked skywards. Danger, she knew. Yet, even as she sought safe footing, it shattered beneath her. For a brief, agonizing moments she hung, trapped by something as insubstantial as air. In mere moments more gravity would have brought her back to footing, but those moments were not to be. The lances of flame had found her. By reflex she blocked them, such that instead of impaling her, burning her to nothing, they, merely, turned her into a meteor shot earthward. Her world shattered.
The world hummed like shards of broken glass. Stars, parts of stars danced in the cloudless night sky. Roukanken and Hakurouken were gone. Where had they been? It did not matter now. That thing of death and hunger would do what it was going to do, what she didn’t want it to do. She wanted to shiver. She could not.
She looked at the figure, no figures… had? But she was? Was from the house? She knew her? It was not important. She would take the thing back, close it up. It was over. She had won. What did his face looked like, she wondered? Then for a time, she wondered no more.
* * *
Like pretty much everything I write, this was mostly inspired by music. In rough order:
Feels like it needs pages of build up for what’s turning into a few paragraphs of actual action. And the paragraphs are tiny. I guess things move fast enough when it happens that there’s just less to describe?
Voyager's Games 