Please Don't Touch the Flowers (Worm x Touhou)
Please Don't Touch the Flowers

1


"How dya take your tea? I've got the most delightful brew made from bamboo. Straight out of Eintei, though they weren't much obliged to share it with me."

Taylor stared for a long moment at the woman bustling around the kitchen. For a homicidal urban legend, the Sunflower Woman was surprisingly well dressed. Her odd plaid dress was well-kept, and a pleasantly earthy smell followed her, like fresh grass and spring wind. Not even the woman's green hair and red eyes detracted from her poise.

"Darling?" the woman drawled.

"Oh!" Taylor started. "Sorry. Whatever you're having will be fine."

The woman chuckled softly. "I'm having sake. I think you'll have to make do with tea."

And with that settled, the woman turned back to the counter. Taylor used the time to glance around the kitchen. She'd expected the interior to be a wreck, all overgrown, but she had been wrong. The inside was cozy, furnished in a style she thought was Victorian, with nearly every surface covered in various potted plants. It was a little like stepping into a greenhouse. Whatever the stories said about the Sunflower Woman, none of them mentioned anything like this.

"So..." Taylor said slowly. "I didn't ask your name. I'm uh... Taylor."

The woman returned bearing two cups, and a plate of cookies. She set them down and seated herself across from Taylor at the kitchen table.

"My name?" The woman said. "Well, most of the folks around this town call me the Sunflower Lady. As nicknames go, it's really quite charming. Not remotely the worst I've ever had. But you... you, Taylor, can call me Yuuka Kazami. Pleased to meetcha."

"N-nice to meet you too."

Yuuka gestured at the tea, and Taylor lifted her cup. She inhaled, and was surprised at just how earthy the scent was. Whatever kind of bamboo the tea was made from, she'd never smelled any tea like it. She tipped it to her lips, and Yuuka smiled at her. The taste was... rich. Earthier than the smell, something that lingered, tasting of... mountain air and...

"Wow," she exhaled. "That was..."

"It is something," Yuuka said. "You wouldn't believe how that crybaby princess carried on when I stole it from her. She mobilized the rabbits like they were going to war." Yuuka's lip curled darkly. "They tasted better than the tea."

Taylor blinked. A princess? And rabbits? What in the world was she talking about? But actually asking her seemed... gauche.

"You're not from around here, are you?" she asked, settling for a happy medium.

Yuuka's smile faded a little. "Where I'm from... let's just say that I lost my way and ended up here. Much like most of Brockton Bay, really."

She sipped her drink, her eyes far off. "Things are different here. The air is dirtier, the soil foul. And I am... bound."

"To the garden?" Taylor guessed.

Yuuka's smile faded away entirely. "Yes. The garden. Bound like a common deity, when I should be able to roam free. I don't know what that damn Yukari was thinking, but-" she cut herself off suddenly, and set her cup down with care. "But I'm getting upset. And I've got a guest."

"Sorry," Taylor said. "I didn't mean to- I-"

"It's nothing," the green-haired woman said airily. "But while you're here, could I trouble you for a favor?"

Something cold ran down Taylor's spine at that. A favor. The stories said that the Sunflower Woman murdered anyone who entered her garden, but nobody said anything about favors.

"W-what for?"

"Don't look so worried, girl," Yuuka said, smirking. "It's not really a favor."

She rose, towering over Taylor suddenly. All through the kitchen, the plants were rustling, moving in a non-existent breeze.

"It's not a favor so much as an order."

Taylor found her feet and stood, backing away. There was a look in Yuuka's eyes, and her smile had edges now.

"Maybe I should just go," she said.

"The way I see it," Yuuka said, ignoring her. "Anyone who enters my garden is intruding on my territory. But you- you're more like an offering than anything. It's been a while since anyone has tried to send me a virgin sacrifice."

"HEY!"

"So instead of killing you, like I usually do, I'm going to spare your little life, Taylor."

Yuuka stepped forward, stalking around the table. Taylor retreated, moving toward the door and- her back hit something solid. The door was gone, replaced by a wall of thick vines.

"I'll spare your life, and in return, you'll work for me. I need things. Things I can't get inside the garden without outside help."

"Please, I can just go, and I won't tell anyone," Taylor pleaded.

"You start now," Yuuka hissed.

She pointed one long finger at the teacup Taylor had deserted. It had toppled over, and thick, black liquid was oozing into the table cloth. Taylor coughed, and suddenly something hot was writhing up from inside her. She groaned and fell to her knees.

"What's that word you Westerners use?" Yuuka said. "Communion? It doesn't do this justice."

Taylor felt her face hit the floor. The world was going black around her. Her last sight before the darkness took her was Yuuka laughing and waving merrily.

"What kind of youkai will you be, I wonder?"

==

Reposted here, thanks to @Redd984, who reminded me this even existed.

 
Please Don't Touch the Flowers 2 (Worm x Touhou)
Please Don't Touch the Flowers

2


Lisa stared across the bar, her eyes locked on the newcomer. The new girl had long, dark hair held back with a band of ivy. Her costume was a thick dress, seemingly woven of hundreds of thin vines, adorned in spots with vibrant flowers. Her only concession to a disguise was a domino mask, plain but for the imprint of a sunflower between the eyes.

Costume is bulletproof. Redundant. Not human. Inhuman physiology.

What? Not human. Then what the hell was she? Lisa leaned forward slightly, tuning out Kaiser's latest posturing to study the girl. She was sitting quietly, waiting her turn to speak.

Restraining herself. Sees humans as food.

"What's so interesting about plant girl?" Regent whispered in her ear. "Where's she even from?"

"That huge garden on the south side. She's-"

Garden of She Who Blooms. New girl is a disciple, She Who Grows.

"She's... I don't even know, Regent. It's like she's just..."

Human-shaped.

"She's not human," Lisa said, settling for the least bizarre word choice.

"Grue will be overjoyed," Regent said dryly.

Lisa looked again, following Regent's gaze. The plant girl was leaning forward to watch Grue talk. She had the tip of one curly lock between her fingers, toying with it.

Finds Grue attractive. Interested in him.

She sent Grue a silent apology. Sorry, but when it came down to murderous flesh-eating plant girls, it was every man for themselves.

Lisa gave a long exhale. "That settles it. When she eats Grue, we can make a run for it."
 
Definitely a Doctor (Worm x Borderlands)
Definitely a Doctor (Worm/Borderlands)

==

The two twin-tailed girls faced each other. The older, a copper-haired young woman, narrowed her eyes.

"Are you criticizing my work?" She raised her cybernetic fist menacingly. "Because if you are..."

The other girl, a waifish blonde, shook her head rapidly.

"No no no! I'm just saying... Gaige, was it? there's all sorts of stuff you could do. Robot arms are just the start! Why just one? Why not two? Or three? Or you could replace everything else with robot parts!"

The blonde pointed at the hulking robot floating behind Gaige. Electricity crackled between its jagged claws.

"And him. He's not bad if you need someone to smash heads. But why not build something to help you tinker? Like these little guys."

Gaige tensed as the other girl fished around in her bloody apron. The girl withdrew what looked like a repurposed tv remote and pressed a series of buttons. At once, a swarm of insectile robots boiled out of doors and manholes around them. Gaige squeaked with surprise and leapt onto Deathtrap's waiting hand. The robot hovered up and away, its eye cycling from passive-green to a threatening red.

The blonde girl smiled happily as her creations scuttled around her. She clicked the remote again, and one of the spiders crawled up her back, wrapping its limbs around hers. The blonde raised her hands, and tools of all shapes and sized fanned through her fingers.

"Can your robot do that?" She said.

Gaige lowered her triple-barreled shotgun slightly. "...no."

"Do you want it to?"

Gaige scowled again. "What's the catch?"

The blonde raised her hands disarmingly. "No catch. Just a... mutual exchange. I help you with your cybernetics, and you show me the ropes with some of this Digi-struct tech you use. I can think of like... a million things I could do with a lightning death ray!"

After a long moment of hesitation, Gaige lowered the shotgun entirely. Deathtrap descended and deposited Gaige on the ground, but didn't return to passive mode.

"So... you're a mechanic or something?" Gaige said. She gazed thoughtfully down at her artificial hand. "How many robot arms do you think I could manage?"

The blonde girl grinned. "We can't know until we try."

She held out a hand. Artificial palm met blood-stained glove, and they shook. Their respective robotic minions followed close behind as the two girls turned and began to walk through the dusty town.

"You got a name, kid?"

"Call me... Dr. Bonesaw. I'm a real doctor and everything!"

Gaige raised an eyebrow. "Right..."

She wasn't really comfortable taking medical advice from someone who felt the need to reiterate that they were a real doctor, but... Bonesaw couldn't possibly be any worse than Dr. Zed.

"Alright then, Dr. Bonesaw. I'm thinking... one of my new arms needs to have a gun in it. Maybe a laser."

"Just one gun? Why not..." Bonesaw paused dramatically.

Gaige met her eyes and returned her grin.

With the synchronicity that can only be born from two equally deranged minds meeting, both girls bellowed out.

"ALL THE GUNS!"

Maniacal laughter followed.

==

Just a repost. Got some traffic off this one from the Recs thread, so I figured might as well.
 
Highway to Hell (Binding of Isaac, Sinners AU)
This is a continuation on Burnout, my previous Binding of Isaac fic. I know some readers had previously expressed concern because they're unfamiliar with BoI. I'd recommend reading it anyway. This is a full AU, and literally every character in this chapter but Eden is non-canon and basically just an OC.

If you're still confused on the premise- the generality is an Urban Fantasy AU, where two halves of a family have aligned themselves with Heaven and Hell respectively. Neither of them are particularly nice groups, but neither are they pure evil.

Jacob and Esau are basically Sam and Dean Winchester, using the weapon/meister mechanics from Soul Eater, with a number of other related powers.


====


Highway to Hell


"I spy, with my little eye, something… yellow."

"I will murder you, Esau."

There was a pause, cornfields streaming by on either side, Jacob gritting his teeth and staring at the road.

"That's Cain's thing, not yours." Esau smirked at him from the passenger seat. "Well?"

"Corn." Jacob's eye twitched. It had been fields for the past 800 miles. He'd forgotten that middle America was apparently nothing but, with towns virtual oases in the endless expanses of corn and tobacco and- he hated Flyover Country.

"That's right," Esau said. "Your turn."

"Wrong." Jacob pulled the car onto the side of the road and stopped. "Yours."

They both looked at the clock for confirmation. It had indeed been two hours. 6pm. Late enough that the sun was just beginning to edge behind the treeline, but not enough to hit full sunset.

They exited the car. Esau was stretching on his side, working the kinks out of his arms. Jacob used the opportunity to dump out the stale dregs of his gas station coffee, and then wade into the cornfield to take a leak.

When he returned, Esau was leaning against the driver's side, shading his eyes with one hand as he checked his phone. "Lilith texted me. They've confirmed the Apostles have set up shop. They're… waiting for us to return before making a move."

Jacob made his way round to the passenger side. He glanced at his brother over the car before getting in. "We'll need to cut the trip short."

Esau copied him, sliding in behind the wheel. Jacob busied himself with adjusting the seat- too far back, and weirdly warm from Esau's body heat.

"There's an airport about three hours north," Esau said. "You wanna just skip bumfuck-ville and head up?"

Jacob fixed him with a stare, eyes sharp behind his glasses. He held it for a long moment, until Esau squirmed in his seat and raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine, geez."

"We're almost there anyway," Jacob said. He rubbed his eyes. "Five churches max, and we can quit."

"Agreed." Esau shifted the car into drive and pulled back onto the tarmac. He accelerated quickly, and by the time he hit the speed limit, was already fiddling with the stereo. They crossed over from cornfields to what Jacob thought might be hemp, stereo flicking between songs as fast as Esau could register them.

Jacob spoke up occasionally, vetoing Esau's pause on a throbbing techno album that sounded like a headache waiting to happen, and then voicing his support for a jazz track – Esau shot it down.

They finally settled on some electrojazz band that Jacob had never heard of, but were solid enough that they could both agree on.

The car sped onward toward their final stop.



XXX


Out here, the towns all blended together. Usually no more than a single main road, with a few smaller streets branching from it like veins from an artery. The buildings were all the same. Fast food chains. Gas station. Thriftstore. Bar. Maybe a Walmart if the place was thriving.

And the churches, of course.

The little burg they pulled into just before seven pm was no different. Jacob had stopped keeping track of the names somewhere back in Kansas, and their newest town's name faded from his memories as soon as the roadsign disappeared from sight.

Esau pulled off, idling in the parking lot of a McDonalds while Jacob plugged in his phone. He pulled up the GPS and keyed the coordinates.

Jacob smiled thinly. "Lucky us."

"What?"

He held up the phone to Esau. This particular slice of Americana was so remote that there were only four religious institutions. One of which was, of all things, Unitarian.

His brother laughed, his freckled face dimpling. "What the fuck?"

"Not counting them," Jacob said, refocusing on the phone. "The closest is… two blocks that way. Methodist."

Esau pulled out onto the main strip. Traffic was light, but Jacob found himself keeping watch for any cops. The car had out of state plates, and sheriffs in these small towns liked to hand out tickets to tourists. That, and Esau wasn't much of a believer in speed limits.

Two blocks, and three stoplights up, was the church. The building was steepled, painted crisp white with black trim, and looked out of place in the rural town. Like something from New England transplanted far inland.

Esau pulled in.

Jacob rolled down the window. Cool night air wafted into the car. He inhaled, tasting the scent.

Gas. Diesel. Faint oil smoke from a passing car with a bad engine. Cooking oil from the Hardee's next door to the church, and rot from its dumpster. The sharp, icy aroma of faith from the church.

Jacob shook his head. "Just a church."

They kept going.

It was growing dark, the town around them shutting down for the evening. The next church was on the outskirts, and the route to get there wound through more fields and woods. Esau began drumming his fingers on the wheel after a few minutes, and Jacob made no move to stop him.

He was just as sick of this fucking trip as his brother. Two more stops, and then they were going straight to the airport. Let Eve take the next roadtrip. It didn't always have to be them and Cain. Even Azazel had stepped up this round.

Lilith was blind, and too busy wrangling her brats to really travel much, and Bethany was too unstable to drive long distances, and didn't do well sleeping in new places.

Beth.

Jacob's grip tightened around his phone. A traffic light up ahead clicked from green to yellow. Then to red. Esau ran it without slowing down.

"Don't say it," his brother muttered.

Jacob caught his eye. Shook his head. "Keep doing it."

Esau's pale eyebrows rose. "Seriously?"

"I want to get home." He left it at that, but he knew Esau understood.

They drove in silence, broken only by Jacob pointing out turns, and the rumbling of the engine under the hood.

"She hasn't texted me back," Esau said suddenly.

"She forgets." She hadn't replied to Jacob either. After a moment, he repeated it to Esau. There were no secrets between them. No place for jealousy, real or perceived.

A passing car- the first in some time, illuminated Esau's face for an instant. He was frowning, his face uncharacteristically grim. "Lilith said Bethany isn't sleeping."

"Yeah."

"I'm tired of this."

"I know."

"I am," Esau repeated, his voice rising slightly. He glanced over at Jacob. "All of this shit. Worrying about her. Running around on a wild fucking goose chase because half the family are goddamn loonies."

Jacob nodded. He opened his mouth. To reply. To agree.

The words didn't come. It was a long-standing sore that Esau was breaking open, and Jacob didn't have the right words to capture the way he felt. Like he wanted to find Lazarus and tear him apart for taking them away from Beth and the rest of the family. Like anyone who stood in their way was going to die.

He met Esau's eyes.

Nodded again.

"Fucking right," Esau growled.

Two minutes of silence, headlights eating up the road, and Jacob found himself pointing.

"We're here."

Their stop was Baptist. Some variation on denomination that he didn't recall seeing often. It was alone beside a narrow two-lane, surrounded entirely by waving, rippling, hateful corn fields.

Orangey-brick. White trim around the windows. A small paved area out back with a jungle gym and two swings. Just another of a thousand other American churches they'd seen on their trip.

The parking lot was full.

Jacob set his phone down. After a second, he picked it up again to check the date and time.

The parking lot was full at 7:30 on a Wednesday. They exchanged a look. Churches like this filled up on Sunday morning and were probably closed the rest of the week. The congregations were just too sparse; the populations in these towns too low. Unless this place had an amazing bingo night, something was wrong.

Esau turned into the lot and parked. He deliberated for a moment, and then pulled the car around, facing the exit. Then he parked it again.

They got out.

There was a tang in the air. Sharp and cool, like winter wind on a mountain, yet somehow… metallic. It burned the nostrils, like standing downwind of a fire, Jacob's sinuses itching in objection.

Consecrated ground.

Esau was already pulling his gear bag out of the backseat, but Jacob held up a hand. "Hold on. There're a lot of people in there."

"They made their choice." Any semblance of geniality had vanished from Esau's voice. "We're not waiting any longer."

"That's why I was going to suggest the proper method for killing a large number of people at once."

Esau straightened up, his eyebrows raised again. "You don't mean…?"

Jacob offered his hand.

His brother let the gear bag fall back into the car. "Oh, man, it's been ages. You never let me do it."

"Because you like when I use to you shoot people in the face." Jacob found himself smiling, mirroring the expression on Esau's face.

Esau took his hand and pulled him close. Esau's free hand pressed to Jacob's chest, hovering above his heart. He hesitated for a moment, and then plunged his fingers in.

Jacob's shirt and skin parted like water. There was a lurch in his chest, his breath catching in his throat, and then they were on key, hearts beating in sync, breathing in tune.

Esau's arm vanished into him up to the wrist. He reached for a moment, fumbling, and then seized hold of his goal.

"Damocles."

Esau drew the sword from Jacob's heart, and Jacob dissolved, fading into streaks of light and smoke that trailed behind the blade.

Jacob's consciousness flickered, for an instant nowhere, and then he was-

They were.

Esau blinked, eyes adjusting to the new passenger. Jacob was thrumming in their grip, sword shining in the moonlight, silver through and through, blade, handle, crossguard.

They were smiling.

They had their differences and disagreements, but this trumped all of that. Perfect unity.

As long as they were in sync, united toward a singular goal, they were infinitely more together than they were apart.

Esau glanced at the gear for a moment before shaking their head.

'Won't need it,' Jacob said.

"More fun without it," Esau added.

They turned on their heel and headed for the church. It was tempting to run, but Jacob was tempering that, holding back Esau's need to rampage. More fun to stalk, to take in the church as they moved, noting the exits and flattening tires with quick flicks of the sword.

No escape.

Anyone touched by an Apostle was already tainted. Anyone foolish enough to get that far was beyond saving.

They pushed open the front door. It was glass-fronted, opening onto a small foyer. Numerous religious posters and pictures- a mission trip to a developing nation, a teen retreat and summer camp, did little to distract from the faded linoleum and painted cinderblock walls.

A murmur of voices came from further in. Many people all speaking at once. Chanting.

The smell was worse here, and their skin itched, like they'd been suddenly sunburnt. Holy ground abhorred all adherents to the left-hand path, but it was no more than an irritation. They hadn't yet found a church they couldn't despoil.

There was a large crucifix on the wall beside a plaque with the church's name. Esau paused in front of it, and with a single stroke, bisected both.

He giggled.

Jacob rolled his metaphorical eyes. 'Childish.'

Didn't stop him from smirking though.

They padded down the hallway, passing the Sunday school room with a brief glance inside. Empty- all plastic chairs, and tables marked with crayon.

Ten more feet to the doors to the sanctuary. There was another scent in the air now. Something stale and sour, like a whiff of old meat. Something coppery that they thought might be blood.

The chanting was growing clearer. Prayer, spoken in two dozen arrhythmic voices, the words garbled into a dull, stupid sound.

And another, a voice beyond the chorus. High, calling out something. The congregation responded. Another call. Response.

Esau planted their foot in the sanctuary doors and kicked hard enough to knock them both off their hinges. They went down with a splintering crash, and the chanting broke off.

The sanctuary itself was small, made to hold no more than several dozen, and they doubted it had seen that in some time, but now… Every pew was packed. The churchgoers turned to look at them, moving as one.

Slack, empty faces. Men, women, children, plain country folk now moving jerkily, their mouths still half-open from chanting. A few had already succumbed. They stayed slumped in their seats, blood pouring from eyes and nose and mouth.

And at the front of the room-

They frowned. It wasn't Lazarus.

"Eden."

Their sibling was leaning on the altar, one hand holding a ritual dagger, interrupted in carving symbols into a girl's flesh. The girl was bound, the only normal in the room still under her own steam. But even she was only struggling weakly. Her white dress was stained with red, and her face was contorted with agony beneath her heavy bangs.

"Boys." Eden gave them a flat look. They were as pale as ever, their white hair slicked back, a pale carnation tucked behind one ear. Today they had on a white suit, playing the role of southern preacher to a tee. This incarnation was slightly masculine than the last time they'd seen Eden, but it never really mattered much. Eden was whatever it suited them to be.

"Thought I had more time than this," Eden mused.

"Where's Lazarus?"

The androgyne laughed musically. "Never here. I took his form to lead you on my trail. Lazarus is too weak a target to pass up." Their smile melted away in an instant. "He died today. Did you know that?"

The surprise was enough that Jacob flickered in Esau's hand, their thoughts briefly separating.

What did that cost us? How the fuck? Who did that?

"Dear little Bethie got him," Eden hissed. "So guess what?"

They traced another line on the girl's skin. She whimpered, crying into her gag.

"Isaac passed down the word. The truce ends today. We're done fucking around. It's time to recruit."

Jacob and Esau stared. And then all the pieces fell together. The chanting. The symbols. The sacrifice.

Eden was creating another sibling. Another Apostle.

They charged.

"Kill them!" Eden shrieked.

The parishioners piled out of the pews and threw themselves at Esau.

Jacob and Esau were in sync, and their sword parted flesh and bone and the aged wood of the pews as easily as it split the air. Blood fountained over them like rain.

The second wave stumbled over the corpses, little more than zombies, reaching and grabbing. Esau stabbed a woman in the face, turning his wrist to continue the motion and slice the thrall beside her and-

Jacob's blade lodged in her skull. Thick, glutinous liquid bubbled out of the wound. Not blood this time, but something pus white, closer to putty or jellied bone. The woman gurgled, her skin bleaching, and her eyes darkening. Black sclera, yellow pupils.

"Do you like them?" Eden called. "They're called Deliria. Have fuu-unn!"

Esau tugged, but the blade stayed stuck in the creature, like trying to pull it from a bog. They swore, and Jacob stepped forward.

Sparks rippled down the blade as he ignited their conduit. The Deliria twitched, then writhed, smoke pouring from its mouth as the blade electrified. The monster's liquid flesh blackened and bubbled, and Esau ripped the sword free just in time to meet the next wave of grasping, moaning Deliria.

They found themselves retreating this time, fending off the zombies from all sides. Not all of them were Deliria, but there were more creatures than there were normals, and the mix forced them to pick their strikes, wasting valuable energy on sharpening Jacob's edge with magic.

Dull nails raked across their arm, and they fell back to the doors. The thralls were bottle-necked, but they weren't making any headway. The Deliria was more resilient than they'd initially appeared. There was nothing human left of them. Things that would kill humans were little more than flesh wounds to them.

The Deliria were taking hits and just getting back up.

Further retreat, panic beginning to grow, little by little.

"Full-burn," Esau yelled. "We'll never make it to Eden otherwise."

Jacob nodded.

Lightning bloomed in their free hand. The fluorescent lights that ran the length of the hallway flickered, then burst as the power erupted from them, drawn to Esau's palm.

Their attentions diverted. Esau worked the right arm, wielding Jacob's blade. Jacob controlled the left, spraying gouts of lightning across the thralls. The creatures seized where he struck them, and Esau used the opportunity to finish them off, putting them down conclusively.

They danced on the edge of separation, their minds just barely touching as they relied on the other to know what to do, to take the shots they set up.

Esau impaled a Deliria, and Jacob seized it by the face. He channeled electricity into it. The monster shook, limbs contorting, and then discorporated. It splattered to the ground, little more than a mass of putty in the shape of a man.

The tide turned. The few remaining humans were felled, and they worked through the Deliria one by one. The monsters were too stupid, too mindless to have any tactics, to retreat, or to use their numbers.

"Waste of time," Esau murmured.

Jacob agreed, then paused, his electrical counterstrike faltering.

It was a waste of time. Eden would have known the Deliria wouldn't be able to stop them.

'Stall tactic! Forget them!'

Esau snarled. He charged, scattering the stragglers like ninepins, lashing out to either side as he ran.

They barreled back into the sanctuary. A few thralls lay twitching and dying in the aisles, but the altar was deserted.

A single white rose lay there. Eden's parting blessing.

'Shit.' 'Shit.'

There was no time to investigate or finish off the thralls. They hit the front doors hard enough to shatter them and kept going.

The sedan they'd come in was destroyed. A twisted hunk of metal sat on the pavement in front of it, all that remained of the engine.

And worse, they hadn't disabled every car in the lot. Even now, a set of headlights was disappearing over down the road into the distance.

'Careless, fucking careless!' Jacob berated himself. He was supposed to be better than this! He was supposed to be the careful one. The brains! Now they were fucked, and Eden had gotten away.

His self-loathing warred with Esau's need to pursue, and they split. Jacob stumbled away, his face twisted with fury.

"Dammit! God fucking dammit!" He drove his foot into the side of a truck, denting the metal.

"Quit wasting time!" Esau seized him and pulled. "We can still catch them."

Their eyes met. "How?"

Esau pointed. A police car sat at the edge of the lot. They hadn't noticed a sheriff among the dead, but there had been a lot of them.

"I'll get the stuff," Esau said. "You start the car."

The door was unlocked. A quick check for the keys revealed none, but it didn't matter. He took hold of the ignition and ripped it straight out of the column. From there, all it took was a twist of his fingers and an application of electricity to start the car. The engine purred into life, followed by a squawk as the radio came on- chattering with requests for the officer to respond.

Jacob switched it off and leaned over to open the passenger door for Esau. His brother slid in beside him, throwing what was left of the gear onto the floor.

"You got this?" Esau asked.

Jacob floored it.

The car they'd 'borrowed' to make their trip was nice enough. Fuel efficient. Nice AC. But it didn't have a damn thing on a police interceptor.

Jacob debated on turning on the lights for a moment before deciding against.

Then Esau flicked them on anyway. He grinned at Jacob. "Oh cmon, like you've never wanted to do this."

They went screaming through the countryside, lights flashing, sirens howling. The interceptor had more horses under the hood than anything Jacob had ever driven, and it tore up the road with almost frightening ease.

Beside him, Esau was opening bags and withdrawing equipment. He loaded the SMG and racked the slide to chamber a round. The gun went onto the center console. Esau pulled out three more mags for it and stowed them in the cupholder.

Brakelights appeared in the distance, little more than red pinpricks.

Jacob found himself grinning once again. Any earlier disgust had vanished in the thrill of the hunt. Just because he was supposed to be the 'smart one' didn't mean he didn't enjoy himself. They still had a chance to finish this right and go back home with a win.

And, judging by the way they were still in sync, hearts pounding as one, breath sliding through bared teeth, Esau was having just as much fun.

Jacob mashed the radio button. He turned the dial at random.

A familiar guitar riff filled the car.

How… apropos.

He turned up the volume to full blast.

They were doing better than 85, the needle creeping toward 90. The car ahead was slowly growing larger. He could tell Eden had sped up, but whatever Eden was driving didn't have the power to outrun them.

They were out in the country now, nothing but the fields and the moon, and their quarry growing ever larger.

Ahead, Eden's car swerved and took a turn fast enough to up kick arcs of dust and gravel behind it. Jacob and Esau were there barely a minute later.

Every trace of information Jacob had ever learned about driving cried out for him to slow down, to ease into it.

He ignored them.

Esau cheered from the shotgun seat as Jacob hit the turn. The interceptor heeled alarmingly, and he felt the right-side tires actually leave the ground. Esau slammed his weight into his door and the car dropped, fishtailing like he'd hit a patch of ice. The engine roared, RPM needle spiking as he burnt rubber, and then they were off again.

The gap between the cars closed. Two-hundred feet. One-fifty. One hundred. Eden's was- of course, pure white. Some kind of sporty model that Jacob didn't recognize, fast enough to keep ahead of them, but not enough to get away. The license plate read simply 'CHRIOT.'

Esau rolled down the window. He had the SMG in his lap. "Hold it steady." He leaned out, lifting the gun to his shoulder.

Jacob sped up, trying to give his brother a better shot, and then-

"Shit- Jacob, hold on."

"What is it?"

"The girl! He's got the kid in the car with him."

Jacob bit his lip. "We don't know that."

"I'm not risking it," Esau snapped.

"If Eden gets away, there's going to be a hundred more just like her. They're breaking the truce!"

"We're not like them."

"Take the shot, Esau!"

"No!"

"It's either that or I have to run them off the road," Jacob said. "You think she'll survive that?"

Esau flinched, his face falling. "Fuck. What are we supposed to do?"

"You need to take the shot."

His brother shook his head. "Not like that. I'll- I'll shoot the tires. The car stops and we kill Eden."

"Can you do that?"

"I have to."

Jacob closed the gap. Fifty feet now. Esau lifted the gun again, his top half hanging out the window.

Esau fired. Three round burst. Sparks kicked off the road. A pause as Esau waited to check his shots. He fired again.

Eden's back window spiderwebbed.

Again. The left tail-light went out.

Again. Esau was hissing under his breath, whispering a litany of curses. Jacob pushed the pedal flat, trying to get as close as he could. The road had grown wavy, and he was fighting with the car, forcing it to keep pace around the curves.

Ahead, the road arced sharply. Eden fishtailed, rear tires spinning. Jacob came into the turn seconds behind him. He was ready- he had Eden's reaction to go off of, and took the turn smoothly, even as Eden's car was still screaming streaks of molten rubber across the road.

Esau aimed. Clicked the switch to full-auto. Fired.

Silver holes painted themselves along the broadside of the car. The right side windows shattered. The passenger's door dimpled. Eden- for a moment illuminated in the headlights, turned to look, their face a mask of rage.

And then the right side front tire burst. The rubber went shooting away. Rim met road with a hellish screech. Sparks erupted.

Eden lost control. The fishtail became a spin. The car revolved fully, spitting sparks and chunks of metal before it hit the guardrail and smashed through.

"Shit!" Esau yelled.

Jacob pulled up short, stopping suddenly enough to make the interceptor's brakes grind. They both jumped out, running to see what had become of the other car.

The guardrail sat at the top of a short incline. The white car lay at the bottom, halfway into a ditch. The remaining headlight flickered before fading out.

"Cover me," Jacob said. "I'll go in fir-"

The roof of the car split with a noise like someone punching a hole in a tin can. White tendrils pushed through the cut, forcing it wider, tearing the roof apart.

Eden unfolded.

Colorless wings upon wings upon wings, all horribly organic, with tendrils taking the place of feathers, spreading forth as the shapeshifter bloomed from the wreck.

Esau opened fire, the SMG roaring in his hands for only an instant before it clicked empty. Esau hissed before throwing it aside and charging down the slope.

It was too late. Eden's wings flexed to their full length, and then beat. The downdraft was enough to shoot their sibling into their air like a rocket, the car smashed into the ground by the force of their takeoff.

Someone screamed, and Jacob looked up. Eden had the girl clasped tight in their arms. More than just one set now- multiple limbs clutched the kid to Eden's amorphous form.

Eden was gaining altitude, wings working, drawing away from them.

Jacob lifted his hands and sent a spray of lightning at them. Eden dodged it, their shrill laughter floating down behind them. He fired again, but Eden was out of range now- far above the treetops.

Getting away.

"Shit shit shit shit!" Esau was running back to the interceptor to reload when Jacob turned to him.

"Esau- there's no time. You and me. We can make the shot."

His brother wheeled, staring for an instant before his grim expression broke.

They came together. It was Jacob who took Esau's hand this time. He lifted his hand to the red-head's chest and drew. Esau's body came apart. Everything earthly boiled away for the pure, spiritual core of what they were.

Two bodies. One soul. Resonating.

Esau thrummed in their hands. A greatbow, as tall as Jacob, carved from a smooth, silvery metal. There was no string.

Jacob raised Esau.

The bowstring formed between their fingers. White lightning, conducted between the two poles of Esau's frame. The arrow was the same. Lightning. Energy condensed to a glowing bolt, aching to be fired.

"Kill that fucker."

Jacob nodded. They smiled.

The string left their fingers. The arrow loosed with a boom like thunder.

They aimed high. The shot arced, a shooting star splitting the sky.

Eden's fleeing form, just beginning to lose definition in the night, lit up for an instant.

The arrow ripped through half the wings on one side like paper. Scraps and fragments of Eden fell to earth, and it was they who screamed this time. Eden's flight was suddenly uneven, listing to one side as they tried to grow new wings.

Jacob and Esau drew again.

Fired.

Eden was ready for them now though. They dropped, their remaining wings folding inward to send them out of the arrow's path. It arced harmlessly overhead and vanished into the fields.

"We're not going to get another shot," Jacob murmured.

Esau had no verbal response. There was only a sudden flare of rage from within. Indignant fury that Eden would get away with what they'd done.

Jacob pushed all their power into the final shot. Their hair was standing on end, their suit crackling with discharge. The arrow vibrated dangerously, a hundred million volts in one, little more than a lightning bolt held in place by human hands.

They drew the bow to its limit. Esau's metal creaked in protest, but they both knew he could take it.

Loose.

Jacob let go.

The arrow burnt the skin from their fingertips. It moved so fast that they couldn't follow the flight for a moment.

They traced the path with their eyes. Pinpointed the exact spot it would strike Eden. And-

Jacob's mouth fell open. It was going to miss. Eden had moved again. Not purposefully this time- their wings hadn't regrown properly. It looked like they'd hit an air current and been blown off course.

Out of the firing path.

The shot crested.

Descended.

Esau was screaming something guttural inside them.

The arrow curved.

It was impossible. A fucking miracle in action. Except their kind didn't get those, but it was.

The malformed wings on Eden's side exploded in a flash, bright enough to light up the forest like a flare.

The shapeshifter shrieked inhumanly. They dropped rapidly, only to discard a shape into the air.

"The kid!"

The girl's form, tiny at this distance, spiraled down, tree branches breaking under her, and then fell from sight.

Eden, freed from her weight, threw themself into a dive, curving far off to the right, away from the girl, and away from them. In moments, Eden was gone from sight, vanished into the night like a vast, pale moth.

Jacob and Esau split. Jacob turned to his brother to, only to find him already sliding down the slope.

"Esau, wait!"

They needed to go back to the church and mop up. The Deliria probably couldn't last long without a mage sustaining them, but Eden might have left something behind. Information that they could use.

Esau ignored him. He splashed across the ditch, sparing only a cursory glance at Eden's car before running into the forest beyond.

Jacob hesitated, glancing between his brother and their car. The small, growing ache in his chest answered his question.

They couldn't be apart.

He sighed, and slid down the hill.

It didn't take him long to catch up to Esau. His brother had left a trail like a blind buffalo.

It was pitch black in the forest, too much for even their limited nightvision. Jacob lifted a hand full of sparks, casting the trees into flickering relief.

"Thanks," Esau said, not looking at him. Neither stopped running forward.

It didn't take long to find the spot where the girl had fallen. The scent of her blood carried on the wind.

She lay in a pool of moonlight. Her fall had torn a hole in the canopy, spotlighting her body. She was small. So, so small.

Jacob grimaced. They could at least take her back to the church for the authorities to find. Maybe her family hadn't been among the Deliria.

Esau ran to her. He hovered, hands wavering, not sure whether to pick her up or try to heal her. He paused, his mouth creased in a terrible frown, looking at her.

Jacob walked slowly to him. "Let's take her back. I'll carry her if you can't handle it."

Esau shook his head. "Shut up for a second." He leaned over her and pressed his ear to her chest.

He went very still.

And then two wide blue eyes turned up to Jacob.

"She's alive," Esau whispered, awestruck.

Jacob pursed his lips. What were they supposed to do? The closest hospital was miles away, and the girl was mangled. Just looking at her he could see that both her legs were shattered, one arm was bent the wrong way at the elbow, and if she was breathing at all, he couldn't hear her. Alive, but for how long?

He began to voice his thoughts to Esau, only for his brother to shake his head furiously.

"Stop talking- you're distracting me. I need to- just gimme a minute to think about this."

"Think about what?" Jacob sighed and crouched down beside his brother. "Esau," he said very slowly and carefully. "The kindest thing we can do is put her out of her misery. She's dying."

Esau ignored him. He reached out and nudged the kid. "Can you hear me?"

Silence for a long, uncomfortable moment.

And then her mouth opened. She moaned softly. Her teeth were broken, and she had a mouthful of blood. She coughed, once, twice, splattering red froth over her chin.

Esau brushed her bangs back, revealing two black eyes. The girl was squinting at them through her bruises.

"Kid, look at me," Esau said. "I can save you, but I need your consent. It's not going to be nice, and there'll be a price, but you'll live."

Jacob gasped. He seized Esau's shoulder. "What the hell are you thinking? You can't bring her into this."

"Why not?" Esau's eyes were flinty, his voice low. "Eden broke the truce. I'm not going to let a kid die just to hold up a bargain that no longer exists."

"This is a war!"

"And she's a victim!" Esau shouted back. "If it goes wrong, it's on me."

The girl made a soft gurgling noise. One of her hands, all smashed and broken like a crushed spider, rose. It was trembling.

Esau took it gently. "Kid, do you want me to save you?"

Silence. She coughed roughly, gagging on blood, and Esau propped her head on his knee. It took a long, jagged bout of coughing for her to clear her airway.

Her lips moved. Esau leaned in. Jacob followed him.

"esss."

Esau looked up at Jacob.

Jacob shook his head in frustration. "So be it."

His brother moved into action at once. He pressed a nail into his left palm. The skin split and blood welled up, pooling in his cupped hand.

Esau dabbed a finger in it, and then to the girl's forehead. He drew three symbols.

The numeral Six. Three Sixes, facing outward, forming a sort of triskelion.

"In the name of the Beast, the Whore, and the Morning Star, I baptize you."

Another symbol. An inverted cross on her chin.

"Rise again and be reborn in the skin of kings."

The mark of brimstone between her collarbones.

Esau paused. There was a silence in the clearing that had nothing to do with not-speaking. The night birds and insects had fallen silent. No leaves fell in the trees. No wind moved branches. There was only a terrible, pregnant silence as the world held its breath.

Jacob looked at Esau, all rigid focus and tension, tight lines etched in his face. At the girl, on the edge of life and death and more.

Jacob looked and he knew that this was a ritual that required his participation, or it would fail. There needed to be three of them.

"Speak your name," he said. "That we may write it in the Black Book."

Esau glanced up at him. Flashed a smile.

The girl mouthed.

"M-mah-mah-" she broke off, wheezing. Coughed. The cross on her chin was running with loose blood. "Ma… Mei."

Jacob cut his palm and pressed his hand to Esau's over the girl's heart. Their blood- the same and yet different, mixed and mingled, humming with the power behind the ritual.

"So be it," they said.

And then they each tipped their hand over the girl- Mei's mouth.

She drank.

===

If you're curious about the mechanics in more detail, here's a quick overview:

Jacob and Esau- Twins. One soul, two bodies. Linked, their magic is greater than the sum of its parts, with the cost that they can't get too far from each other without becoming increasingly uncomfortable/pained. Jacob is brunette. Esau is ginger. They have the same electrical powers (taken from Jacob's Ladder in canon), but tend to have different ratios at which they use it.

Originally started out as twins with a mindlink- using the They pronouns for the entire chapter. It became very difficult to write, very quickly, and it was hard to write characterization when, as a flaw with the They/Them pronoun in English, it came across as exposition rather than character narration, if that makes sense.

Shuffled through a couple different ideas for their power sets. The twinlink thing came first, but then I actually sat down and looked at the biblical stuff with Jacob and Esau as feuding brothers. Their characterization swapped- Esau went from the sickly, put-upon older child to the hot-blooded, impulsive brother. Jacob went from being the dumb, conniving asshole to the cool, collected, focused brother, who isn't always as moral as he should be.

Almost made one of them a ghost, with whoever is the ghost alternating, treating the ghost brother like a Stand from JJBA, but it was a headache. The soul eater style weapon transformations kind of came out of nowhere, and I'm pleased with how their personalities turned out. Felt very Sam and Dean to me- though not on purpose.


Eden- Shapeshifter. Genderless and sexless. Using They pronouns got kinda confusing when I had Jacob and Esau using them too. Almost went back and had Eden using It pronouns to reflect how fucking creepy they are. Has shapeshifting to reflect how their appearance changes on each run ingame, and while it wasn't showcased, they can actually swap powersets at random, picking from a large pool of artifacts and magical items, four or five at a time.

Kind of a creep, and we don't see their personality much beyond sadist here. Did kind of lean a little too close to effeminate villain for me at one or two points.


Mei- Psychic. A mod character that just recently came out. Totally noncanon, but I used her and she just jumped into the story. The reason Eden was trying to sacrifice her, and why the arrow curves at the end is because of her latent abilities.
Think Sadako from the Ring, and you've got her.
 
Mithradite (Pokemon, Lillie/Moon)
Urgh... I'm still not happy with how this turned out. I wanted to do something with Mithradatism, AND with hurt/comfort fluff stuff between Lillie and Moon.

Tired of messing around with it.

XXX


Mithradite (Pokemon, Lillie x Moon)


The Charizard descended the last dozen meters slowly, his wings splashing mud and water away from the landing zone with every beat. He touched down, sinking slightly in the mushy earth, and bent to let her get off.

Lillie landed with a splat, mud splattering high enough to speckle her legs. She ignored it- boots were meant to get wet, and it wasn't like Po Town saw many dry days. She patted the Charizard's shoulder.

"Thank you. That was even faster than usual."

The ride Pokemon snorted proudly, his breath and tail steaming in the rain, and nodded to her. He waited until she moved away before taking off, kicking off from the ground and rocketing away fast enough to blow the rain aside in his path.

Lillie waved. Charizard disappeared into the cloudy afternoon sky, and she turned away, pulling her hat from her bag. The ballcap was a far cry from the wide-brimmed sunhats she'd once carried, but it kept the rain out of her face, and kept her hair from frizzing too badly. Her umbrella came out next.

Surrounded by her little canopy of dry space, Lillie made her way toward town.

The walls around Po were as imposing as ever, all industrial concrete and pylons. She remembered vaguely that it had been some kind of odd retreat for a wealthy family before Team Skull took it over, but the idea always made her uncomfortable. It felt a little too much like someone else's version of Aether Paradise. Something to shut the outside world, and reality away.

She dipped her umbrella so she could fit through the gap in the wall, and entered. The rain was no weaker inside, but she breathed a little easier.

Selene didn't care if Lillie landed in town, but Lillie liked coming in this way. Despite the eeriness that still lingered around Po, there were newer, stronger associations she had for it.

It felt more like a castle, like she was slipping through a gate into some old fortress, when she remembered who lived in Po now. The walls weren't a barrier against rationality any longer, but a shield, something that made her feel safe.

The cobbled street that ran up the center of town was uneven, puddles collecting in the low spots, or covering the stones entirely in others. Lillie had to zig and zag through them, the heels of her boots splishing on every step.

She'd just passed through the first intersection when the lights came on. Purple flames bloomed in the empty lampposts, row by row, moving towards the mansion only just now coming into sight. A faint giggle trickled its way out of the gloom, and while Lillie couldn't see where it came from, she raised her free hand all the same.

"Thank you, Sortia!"

Selene's Misdreavus flickered briefly into view, just at the edge of visibility. She cackled again and disappeared.

A moment later, a chilly breeze crossed the back of Lillie's neck. She kept walking.

"Is everything alright today?"

A light tug on her left braid.

Lillie smiled. "Good. Did Selene sleep in until noon again?"

A pull on her right braid this time.

"Oh? Later than that?" Right braid. "Earlier?"

Two tugs on the left.

Lillie was just passing into the section of Po that Selene had reclaimed, but she paused at that, frowning.

"Did she sleep at all?"

Sortia's shrill laughter came from all around her.

Lillie started walking again, redoubling her pace.

If it wasn't one thing, it was another. Selene couldn't just oversleep. She alternated. There would days where Lillie would come by to find the Kahuna still in bed, buried in sheets like some kind of hibernating Ursaring. And then there was this.

'I just wanted to marathon the whole season and get it done.'

'My Hypno wanted to practice eating my dreams and see if they tasted different if I was sleep deprived.'

'Challengers should have an interesting test when they come here, so I was going to restage my invasion of Po Town with trainers playing Team Skull, and I get to be Guzma!'

For a woman who had rubbed shoulders with legendary Pokemon, wiped out two separate criminal organizations, and somehow, seen the value within a scared little blonde girl, Selene was… sort of an idiot sometimes.

The mansion loomed out of the mists, shadows flickering across its surface from Sortia's balefire. Under Selene's reign, most of the damage from Team Skull had been repaired. The windows had been replaced, the trash cleaned up, the pool refilled- currently housing a gently dozing Lapras.

In its place had come Selene's artistry. Every inch of the mansion's exterior was covered in her work. Painted landscapes warred with graffiti. Flowers and thorny vines twined through letterwork and curled around sprawling, beautiful women themselves covered in a second skin of tattoos. Symbols carpeted gables and trim- the elemental signs, star signs, icons for the legendary Pokemon.

It was overwhelming, the visual equivalent of a wall of sound. Even now, Lillie was still glimpsing new portions of the mural. She had no time for them today though, and they passed unnoticed.

She stomped up the front steps and pulled open the front door. There was a letter box nailed beside it for any challengers who came calling when Selene wasn't around.

Lillie shook out her umbrella, and then set it on the tile in the foyer to dry. "Selene! Selene, where are you?"

A clattering noise from the right, and the sound of glass breaking. "Kitchen!" Selene's voice carried over the sound. "Mind the mess."

Lillie crossed the foyer. The mansion's eastern half was largely devoted to the dining room and kitchen. The former was big enough to house a table best described in meters, and judging from the mess when Selene moved in, had fed all of Team Skull at once.

Selene rarely had any visitors besides Lillie, and the massive table had been half-rotten. She'd thrown it out and furnished the room with a vast array of comfortable chairs and beanbags, all scattered across a dozen mismatched rugs. It had become the main sleeping quarters for Selene's Pokemon, and if Selene wasn't in bed, she was usually there.

Lillie waved to Selene's Pokemon as she passed them. The only ones she really knew the names of were Selene's main team and a few of the more eccentric personalities. Mido the Minior was currently ricocheting back and forth between a Mankey and a Jangmo-o, laughing as the two fighting types whacked it like a ball.

Selene's Metagross, Bixby, was keeping watch on everyone, blinking lazily from its position in the corner. A few other psychics seemed to be congregating around it and meditating in its presence. There was a faint brush across her mind as she looked at it, and Lillie nodded in greeting to Bixby.

She had to step over a slumbering Weavile in order to get into the kitchen. The door was closed, and she could hear Selene bustling around. Judging from all the crashing and the undertone of Selene cursing, something was out of sorts.

Lillie pushed open the door and made it three steps in before she stopped, staring.

An array of tubes and beakers lined the countertops, and every burner on the stove was currently heating up a different container of viscous liquid. A number of Selene's Pokemon milled around on the floor and sat at the kitchen table, all watching their trainer.

Her girlfriend stood in the middle of a kitchen disaster.

She looked utterly dreadful.

Short, shaggy black hair normally held in some semblance of order was now pushed back- seemingly held in place by only grease and sweat. Selene's skin, caramel brown beneath her ink, was looking distinctly grayish, covered with a faint sheen of perspiration.

She lifted her head from a notebook as she noticed Lillie. "Hey, Lils," she rasped.

"Selene!" Lillie crossed the kitchen at a run, leaping over Selene's Salazzle to skid to a halt beside the other girl. "What happened?!"

"I'm alright."

This close, Lillie could see ruptured blood vessels in Selene's eyes, like red starbursts on white, and she was pretty sure the odd cast to Selene's voice was coming from the twin twists of tissue she had stopping up her bloody nose.

"You are not fine!" Lillie snapped. Growing up at Aether had been miserable, but she'd learned a lot about medicine. Selene's symptoms raced through her head, and she knew she should do something, but she was drawing a blank. The situation was just too surprising.

"How did this happen?" she repeated. "If you're sick, you should have called. Or- called a doctor or something!"

"I'm not sick," Selene said. A Clefairy sitting beside the sink gave a low grumble at that. Selene glared at it. "You know I'm not."

Lillie finally defaulted back to the basics and pressed a hand to Selene's forehead. It was hard to tell with her; Selene had too much Fire affinity in her heritage. She always burned a little hotter than normal, but this definitely felt like fever. The skin beneath her palm was clammy, somehow too cool and too hot at the same time.

Lillie found her bag and dug for her phone. "Right. We're going to a doctor." After a moment of dialing, she turned to the crowd of Selene's Pokemon. "You're all going to help me get her outside."

Her phone rang once, only for Selene to snatch it out of her hand.

"What are you doing?!" Lillie cried.

Selene ended the call. "Just sit down and listen. 'Ceus, you're freaking out for nothing."

Lillie held out a hand for her phone back, but Selene didn't offer it. They looked at each other for a long moment, Selene blinking drunkenly, Lillie glaring, her heart in her throat.

"Two minutes. And then I'm taking you to a doctor."

"Anyone ever tell you you're cute when you're- urp." Selene's words cut off in a gulp. She covered her mouth, eyes wide. Lillie skittered away, but thankfully, Selene shook her head and relaxed.

"False alarm." Her thumbs-up was the least convincing Lillie had ever seen.

"One minute," Lillie grumbled. "This isn't a game, Selene."

"I know. It's science." Selene reached out and rubbed the Clefairy. "Thanks to Clementine here, and my other friends-" She waved at the Pokemon around her.

Lillie gave them her full attention for the first time.

Cinder, Selene's Salazzle was curled up, tail flicking idly as she watched the conversation. To her left was a slimy, tentacled Pokemon that Lillie didn't recall the name of. Some kind of aquatic predator with- judging by the thick spines covering its blue flesh, poisonous barbs. Under the table, a vividly colored Ariados was working thread between its chelicerae, weaving long ropes that it looped over its back spines for later use.

There were others, some of Selene's regular team, but those three and the Clefairy were the closest at the moment.

Lillie squinted. Selene wouldn't possibly…

"Are you poisoned?!"

Selene touched thumb and index together. "Bingo."

Lillie lunged for her phone. She toppled into Selene and they both knocked into the kitchen table, scattering Pokemon left and right. She'd been expecting Selene to struggle, but the other girl let her have the phone, and after a moment to right herself from where she'd pressed Selene down, Lillie retreated.

She started dialing again. Not a doctor this time, but the nearest hospital. It would be in Malie City, and that wasn't close enough. The flight wouldn't be nearly quick enough. They'd have to ride together, so she could make sure Selene didn't fall off. And-

"How did this happen?"

Selene jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the rows of science equipment. "I'm trying to build up an immunity so I can train Poison types better."

Lillie stopped dialing to stare at her.

"Don't give me that look," Selene said. "It's perfectly safe. I take a sample from one of the Pokemon, dilute it with Antidote and a couple other chemicals, and then inject it. I give myself an hour to start feeling it, and then I have Clemmy use Aromatherapy to cure it. Rinse and repeat. I did Ariados last night. That's why he's just sitting around."

Lillie stared some more. The inner workings of her mind ground to a halt. She understood. She didn't understand.

"You're… trying to build up… an immunity," she said slowly.

"Yup. I've got Poison Affinity from my Dad's side, apparently, and I always wanted to specialize in them. Just never got the chance, you know?"

Selene grinned. One eyelid was more open than the other, and she was swaying on her feet.

"And you thought it would be a good idea to do this alone, in the middle of nowhere, with no medical staff on hand, without telling anyone?"

"Well… when you say it like," Selene said, her grin thinning slightly. "Sounds kinda crazy."

The last piece of the puzzle fell into place.

"Selene, when was the last time you took your medication?"

"This morning."

"You mean when you got up?"

"Nope. That's when I normally take it. But I haven't slept in a couple days, so I just decided to take it at 9am every morning."

Lillie frowned. That didn't make sense. Selene wasn't behaving rationally. She was normally energetic and creative, and prone to stupid ideas, but… this was downright bizarre and self-destructive. It wasn't like her at all. This was how she behaved when she missed a dose.

She glanced around the kitchen, taking in the mess of equipment. Where had Selene even gotten this stuff? Team Skull hadn't been cooking meth or something, had they? Her eyes flicked across Clementine, now dabbling her paws in the sink.

Clemmy uses Aromatherapy to cure it.

"Selene, does Aromatherapy discriminate between chemicals?"

Her girlfriend cocked her head, looking confused.

"How is it supposed to know the difference between the chemicals in poison that hurt you, and the ones in your medication that keep you stable?"

She could tell the moment when it sank it.

Selene blinked slowly. And then her smile faded. Her gaze dropped. She held up her hands. They were stained, dyed a rainbow from all the chemicals she'd been fiddling with.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I- I didn't think of that," Selene said. "It just seemed like a good idea- so I just did it. And it- it all kinda blurred together."

"I know." She reached out to gently run a hand through Selene's hair. "Do you want to go to bed? And does Clemmy need to cure you before you do?"

"Yes." Selene grimaced. "I mean- I need to sleep. It's been a while. And no. She's- I haven't had anything for a while." She shook her head like she was trying to clear it. "Ceus, Lillie, I feel so… so stupid."

"That's okay." Lillie took Selene's hand; her skin paper white against Selene's gentle brown. "Let's get you to bed."

The Champion nodded, and then began trudging toward the door.

Lillie took all the beakers off the stove and stuck them in the sink before turning it off. She did a triple check of all the appliances and containers to make sure nothing was going to catch fire or shoot poison gas.

And then she went to catch up to Selene. It wasn't hard. The other girl hadn't gone far. They linked arms, and, with Selene leaning on her, Lillie took her up to the bedroom.

Guzma's one-time throne room had become Selene's, and on occasion, Lillie's as well. It was in just as much disarray as the kitchen was, and they waded across a strata of discarded clothes and laundry to reach the bed.

"Shower." Lillie pointed to the bathroom. Arceus knew what kind of toxins were on Selene's skin.

Selene went. Lillie waited until the water started up before she began tidying. She tried to impose some kind of system of what was clean and dirty before deciding that it was all on the floor, and therefore dirty.

She was pretty sure Selene's Pokemon had been sleeping in there too, judging by the amount of poke-fur coating everything.

She wasn't nearly done when the water stopped.

Selene emerged, her hair down, a waterlogged corpse in ragged pajamas. Lillie joined her at the bed, sitting on the side while Selene slid under the sheets.

She'd expected Selene to drop off in exhaustion, but it seemed like she was still going too strong on her episode. Bright eyes settled on Lillie, and Selene's feet were kicking and twitching under the covers.

"You wanna read me a bedtime story?"

"I- I don't think I know any." She didn't. That part of her childhood had ended when her mother discovered Ultra Space.

"Oh."

"Give me a moment and I'll see I can think of something?"

Selene nodded, and Lillie got up and scurried to the bathroom. Inside, she opened her bag and withdrew a small orange bottle.

The pills were meant for her. Something to calm her down when she got stressed, when her anxiety flared like a neon star.

Lillie crushed three of them and poured the powder into a glass of water. She returned to the bedroom and handed the glass to Selene.

"It'll help you sleep."

The other girl snorted. "That's your bedtime story?"

"No." She waited until Selene drank the entire glass before continuing. "I could tell you about… ah, the story of the princess and the knight?"

"...is this story some kind of gay parable about me rescuing you, princess?"

Lillie flushed. "No." She looked away. "Do you want to tell one?"

"Sure." Selene patted the bed beside her. "Get comfy."

Lillie tugged her boots off and slid up next to her. One of Selene's arms wrapped round her shoulders and drew them together.

There was silence for a moment, Selene not looking at her.

"This isn't so much a story," she whispered. "It's just… what happened."

Lillie leaned in. Selene's skin was still damp beneath her pajamas, and she was warm. The bodywash she'd used hadn't quite removed the acrid, too-sweet smell of venom.

"I'm listening."

"The immunity thing. It wasn't just for the Affinity or so I could train Poison types. It was partly that. I- I've been doing the Kahuna thing for what- six weeks?"

"About that."

"I'm not Acerola. I like Ghost-types, but I don't have any sixth sense. Like, not even a little bit. It's not a good fit for me."

"So you wanted to change what type of Kahuna you were?"

"Sorta." Selene inhaled slowly, raggedly. Every breath whistled faintly; Lillie thought Selene's sinuses might still be closed up from the dosing. "But the real reason I did it… is because of your mother."

Lillie stiffened. She turned, but Selene wasn't looking at her again. Selene's hand was tight on her shoulder, holding her close.

"Lusamine- your mom. And… Nihilego. You said they found venom in her system during the autopsy. And when I had to catch all the Ultra Beasts for the police… they said the Nihilego could make people go crazy."

Lillie nodded, barely a jerk of her head. She knew. It had been almost a year, and she still dreamt about it sometimes. Her mother had become unrecognizable. Like she'd died, and someone with her face was still walking around, talking in her voice, but saying things she never would. That her mother finally had died, back then, in that nightmare place, had been a relief. It was a sick, shameful thought, and one she'd never voiced. Never would.

"Ultra Beasts are drawn to people who have been through wormholes. Like me. Or you." Selene swallowed. Took another rasping breath. "And I thought, if that could happen to your mom, what if it happened to me?" She swallowed again, but laughed this time, high and mocking, just once. "I'm a friggin mental disaster already, just imagine what might happen if I got poisoned."

"So you were trying to build up your poison immunity so that couldn't happen," Lillie said softly, finishing the thought.

Selene didn't respond. Lillie didn't need her to.

She pressed closer, until her heart was pressed to Selene's shoulder, and then brushed her lips to Selene's cheek. "Thank you."

It was only then, when Selene relaxed, that Lillie realized that the other girl had been just as tense and stiff as she was.

Lillie let herself loosen as well. Her forehead came to rest in the crook of Selene's neck, her arms sinking down to encircle her waist.

She sighed, long and slow.

"Thank you for doing that, Selene. It's- it means a lot. But… I want you to know something, okay?"

"Yeah." Little metal rods of tension had come back into Selene's frame.

"I loved my mother, even at the end. No matter how hateful she became. Just because someone changes doesn't mean the person we love is gone."

A tentative, rainbow-dyed hand crept up, slowly coming to rest in the small of Lillie's back.

"Even if you do stupid things, like go off your meds and staying up for 3 days straight, or-"

"Try to set a world record," Selene suggested. "And end up burning down the Megamart."

Lillie giggled. "I was going to say things like that time you painted the entire front of the mansion with a mural of us to commemorate our six-month anniversary… in water-soluble paint."

Selene groaned. "Shiiittt. I forgot about that. That was really dumb."

"It was also very romantic."

Selene stiffened again, but with shock this time. Lillie peeked up, just a little.

She hadn't thought Selene could blush, but a definite red tinge had crept into her cheeks.

"Ready to sleep now?" she asked.

"I think so." Selene smiled. "Whatever you gave me… is starting to kick in. I feel like-" She yawned cavernously. "Like you hit me with Yawn, last round, and it's about to knock me flat."

"Sleep powder."

"And here I thought… I thought…" Her eyes were drooping. Lillie slowly nudged Selene down to lay flat on the mattress. "I thought I'd been poisoned enough for one day."

"Last time."

Selene didn't hear her. Her eyes were already shut, her body slowly limbering and unfolding with sleep.

Lillie gave her a moment before she slipped out of bed. She drew the curtains- not that it mattered much, Po Town was always overcast, and flicked off the bedside lamp.

Her set of pajamas were in their usual spot in the dresser.

Lillie put them on, fumbling a bit in the dark. Her sundress, after a moment's hesitation, was discarded haphazardly over the back of a chair. Folding her clothes was something reserved for a different Lillie. An old one.

A Lillie without friends, or any family in the real sense.

She joined her partner under the sheets. It took only a moment for Selene to roll over and clutch her like a Komala.

That Lillie, of the past, was a Lillie without Selene.
 
Calvatia Gigantea 3 (Touhou)
Calvatia Gigantea (Touhou)

3


Amanita trudged.

It had been several hours since her run-in with the fairies, long enough for the moon to pass its zenith. The SDM's lights had grown slowly, but she was only just beginning to be able to make out the mansion through the mists.

For the first time, she had a true idea of just how large Gensokyo was. This was a journey that had been made before, but always in the arms of her mother. The work of an hour at most, and even that was only if there was danmaku involved.

The scope of it… of the lake. She'd never realized. Gensokyo had only been navigable from the sky. Walking on the ground, on her own two feet… She was small. Small and exhausted. Ostoyae's purpose as her chariot had always been practical. He protected and carried, simply because she didn't have the stamina for it.

One of the straps on her mary janes had snapped, and now every step jostled the shoe on her foot. It was rubbing against her heel, the stocking sticking to her skin in a tender spot. Blistering, little by little. Amanita would have just removed it and walked in her bare feet, but the beach in this area of the lake was closer to gravel than sand, all sharp little stones, and carpeted liberally with jags of driftwood.

She was trying to ignore the pain, but there was nothing else to think about. Her running inner monologue of 'stupid stupid stupid, this idea was so stupid' had died out about an hour ago, her thoughts just as exhausted as she was. She ached all over, she was cold, and she had nowhere to go but the SDM.

There was no turning back through the forest, and sleeping on the beach was just asking to get eaten by a- a lake monster or something. She was pretty sure those existed.

Trudging.

Trudging.

And on.

She was just climbing over a beached log, the thick bark spongy and waterlogged, when the wind picked up. Amanita hissed, dropping to a crouch on the log, glancing around for another fairy coming her way.

After a moment of heart-in-her-throat panic, nothing materialized. The wind rustled the trees a bit, but the beach was otherwise silent.

She glanced around again, just to be sure. Looked up- because that was never happening again.

All clear.

Except… what was that out on the lake?

Her eyes widened. The wind had parted the omnipresent layer of mist that lay over the lake's surface. It was still there, but she could see a bit further out onto the lake now.

A jagged spire of rock thrust out of the lake, rising to a point that nearly pierced the moon. Mount Umbra was, despite its name, closer of a fortress than a mountain. Except it was a fortress in the same way that the Scarlet Devil Mansion was a house. Another thing that she'd never really grasped the size of until now. Seeing it from the air didn't capture the sense of menace, of the way it towered over the lake, watching everything around it from candlelit windows like hollow eyes.

Amanita found herself thinking of the books her mother had in her shelf. Not a magical book, but a book of magic and elves and dragons. Mount Umbra reminded her of something from that book. A thing of Mordor.

The fog was beginning to creep back together, blunting the details of the fortress. It was crouched there like a tiger, biding its time behind the curtain of mist. Not gone. Just waiting.

Ostoyae was out there. Amanita sniffled at the thought. Just because he was only a tiny portion of the fungal network, and they couldn't technically hurt him didn't mean it didn't upset her.

He was her friend, and he didn't deserve to get dragged off to that horrible place by Kyusei.

She sniffed again and forced herself to start walking again.

It wasn't the first time she'd lost part of Ostoyae, but this felt worse, somehow.

Guilt made her steps that much heavier.


XXX



She wanted to stop, but it would be impossible to get moving again. Momentum was all that kept her going at this point.

One foot in front of the other, toes scuffing in the sand, one heel sticky with blood. Left. Right.

Left. Le-

Not sand, but stone. She stumbled. Went down, hands scraping on the rock.

The pain wiped away some of the haze in her thoughts- she hadn't realized how murky things had gotten until just then. Where- where even was she? She couldn't remember the last ten minutes or so.

Amanita looked down. Her hands were resting on smooth, even, cobbled bricks.

A path.

She looked up.

The SDM was just ahead, filling the sky in front of her, its clocktower like a second moon.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" She scrambled up, whispering to herself, the words whistling in her throat.

She'd made it.

A glance over her shoulder, just to check- a solitary line of dragging footprints ran far off into the night, vanishing beyond the range of her vision. It had to have been ten kilometers at least, from the spot where she'd first found the beach.

Hope gave her the strength to rise. Her palms stung, and her throat felt like someone had sand-papered it, but she had made it. She was still stumbling, her feet and ankles stiff as boards, but there was new energy in her steps.

Just a bit further.

Neat rows of trees framed the path, their canopy shading it, covering the bricks with dead leaves. These trees were a world apart from those in the forest of magic though. There was no menace in them.

And just ahead, the trees ended. There was a space separating them and the dark stone of the outer walls. Amanita came into the open space, her steps slowing a bit.

The SDM's gates were absurdly tall, standing far above even the oaks that led up to them. They were a maze of metalwork, all curving, interlocking lines in baroque designs. There was a guard post to the right of the gates, just an awning over a little booth against the wall.

The woman there was watching her.

Amanita approached her, arms folded round her chest, head down.

The gate guard was sitting with her legs crossed under her, and was still head and shoulders taller than Amanita. Her brilliant red hair was held back with a gold clasp, the metal accentuating the slitted, deep blue eyes currently evaluating Amanita.

Hong Meiling blinked, squinting at her. She leaned forward a bit. "C'mere."

Amanita moved forward a few inches.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Tetchy. Aren't you Alice's kid?"

"Y-yes." Amanita swallowed. "Ma'am."

"You need something?"

"I wanted to see Miss Patchouli, ma'am."

"Meiling, not 'ma'am.'" she said. Amanita realized for the first time she had a long-stemmed pipe in her lap, though it wasn't lit. Meiling slid the pipe into her dress before rising smoothly, brushing her green dress out as she moved.

Amanita had to take a step back to look up and meet Meiling's eyes again.

"You're not here to steal anything for your other mama, are you?"

"What?"

"Kirisame." Meiling leaned forward, forcing Amanita back another couple of steps. "This isn't a distraction or something, is it?"

Amanita shook her head. "My parents are both- ah, out. There was an incident."

"Oh, right. They would be." Meiling shrugged, looking slightly abashed. "You wanted to see Patche for magician stuff?"

"Sort of."

Meiling grunted, shrugging again, and rose. "Come on. You don't look like you're in any condition to steal anything anyway."

She turned and pushed one of the gates open. Amanita stared.

They hadn't even been locked? Although… basically everyone in Gensokyo could fly anyway… so…

She scurried in after Meiling.

The SDM's courtyard was a landscape painted in moonlight. Lush, elegantly groomed gardens gleamed in silver, flowers accenting topiary and statues of fantastic beasts. Here and there a fountain broke the silence with the gentle sound of trickling water. It was a far cry from the wild beauty of Yuuka's gardens, but it was lovely nonetheless.

"Are you coming?" Meiling's voice interrupted her thoughts, and Amanita started. She'd been staring.

"Sorry. The- the gardens are very nice."

Meiling's bushy eyebrows rose and she grinned. "Thanks. I bust my hump keeping those together."

They started walking again. Amanita found herself jogging to keep up with Meiling's impossibly long legs. Her newfound store of energy burnt through quickly, and she was lagging and panting before long.

"Oh, come here." And then hands caught her and scooped her up. Amanita went up and up before being deposited to sit on Meiling's shoulders, the woman holding her ankles to keep her in place.

"Thank you, ma- Meiling."

"'s nothing. Your parents are good people, so you are too."

Amanita found herself staring down at the gate guard in mild amazement. Ostoyae had nothing on this Amazon. She could feel iron hard muscles rippling beneath her, and Meiling was tall enough that it felt like riding on two Ostoyaes stacked on top of each other. Now she wanted to see if she could grow a mushroom man this tall, or this tough.

Amanita was still goggling when Meiling slipped through a side door into the mansion.

The door shut behind them, cutting off the last of the cool night air, and the mansion closed in around them. It was dim, lit with only a handful of flickering gas lamps. The air carried an undercurrent. The faint, musty scent of an old house. And blood. The copper undertone had never varied in all the times Amanita had visited.

Meiling stopped, her shoulders tensing. "Shit. Forgot about them."

"Who?" Amanita whispered.

"Quiet."

Meiling turned and began moving down a side hallway, pants swishing as her strides lengthened. She took turns seemingly at random, cut through a doorway, and then took a narrow staircase upward, taking them three at a time.

They had just crested the top, Meiling nudging the door open, when Amanita felt the air change.

There was presence.

Meiling stiffened, her pace slowing, and crept out of the stairwell. They emerged onto an upper passageway, one side open, looking down on a hall tall enough that the ceiling was lost in the darkness.

Breath died in Amanita's throat.

Her sixth sense was screaming. The presence was like being back in the forest again. Being small and insignificant, dwarfed by something immense behind imagination. Only now it was condensed. That had been hundreds of square miles of forest, all saturated with millennia of magic. This was all of that, pressed to one, impossibly dense point in space.

It was like those star objects in that book Rinnosuke had given her. Black holes. Something so dense and all-consuming that nothing could escape it.

There was a low wall separating the passage from the sheer drop beyond, decorated with fluted, flower-carved columns. Meiling lowered Amanita to the marble and crept forward, hiding herself behind the column and peering down. Slowly, moving like her bones were glass, Amanita walked forward to press against it. She was just barely tall enough to see over the railing.

She wished she wasn't.

Far below, figures were emerging from a door onto the checkered tile of the entryway. First came a woman in blue with wings that reminded Amanita of Kysuei, and who was cold enough that Amanita's third eye ached just looking at her, like trying to stare into a frozen wind only for it to bite.

Others, fairies, she thought, came next, small beside the blue woman. Her retinue?

A woman in gray, wearing a muted green cape, shorter than the blue woman, but built more like Meiling. Whip-thin, with a fighter's poise. This woman too had a small crowd trailing her. She was talking to someone out of sight.

Her focus joined them a moment later. Gray haired, clad all in white and gray, like a beam of moonlight. Red eyes flashed, visible even from a distance. This one, Amanita knew. Sakuya. She had no presence at all. Not a void in Amanita's sixth sense, but just not there.

Sakuya said something to the other woman, who nodded, smiling.

And then they all turned, looking through the doors again.

The black-hole was moving.

Amanita had her hands fisted in her dress, her breaths catching in her throat again. The sheer weight of whoever was down there was mind-numbing.

The woman who stepped into view was blonde, her hair bobbed. For a sudden, ridiculous second, Amanita thought it might be her mother. But then she inhaled, the woman's aura like a hand around her heart, and the resemblance fled.

She wore black trimmed with white, a red ribbon tied at her neck. Her every step bled shadow around her like ripples in a pond.

The woman spoke to Sakuya. Shook her head. Turned to the other two. Jerked her head toward the door. The guests began to leave. Sakuya moved to show them out.

A hand touched Amanita's shoulder and she would have yelped if she'd had the breath for it.

Meiling took hold of her and pulled her away. Amanita stumbled, her head spinning, and Meiling just picked her up like a sack of potatoes and stowed her under one arm.

They left the overlook at a creep, and it was only when they were safely into the next hallway that Meiling sped up. It wasn't flying, but it was close. She was leaping, covering dozens of meters at a time, wood paneling and portraits blurring around them, lamps streaking.

"W-who was that?" Amanita said hoarsely.

"Remilia has guests," Meiling whispered. "Because of the incident. She always uses Yukari's absence to scheme. I'd tell you not to tell anyone, but I'm pretty sure everyone who matters knows by now."

Amanita thought of the three women. Of the black-hole shaped like a person. Yukari was supposed to be invincible, but… could someone like that match her? Whatever she'd stumbled into here was bigger than her. Something for adults. For people who could walk down a hall under their own power. Who could protect their friends.

Someone who wasn't her.

She sagged around Meiling's arm. "Your secret's safe with me."

Meiling chuckled softly, but continued running.

They continued on through the manor for several minutes, with Meiling taking more turns at random. Amanita tried to keep track, but quickly lost all sense of direction beyond her faint, general plant-youkai sense of 'where the sun is.'

It was hard to breathe with Meiling holding her like a sack. She voiced it to Meiling, expecting the gardener to just set her down, but she didn't. Instead, Meiling hoisted her into a piggyback carry without breaking stride.

They exited through a door and came out on a small statue garden. Meiling navigated the winding path, weaving between the weathered forms of men and women before re-entering the mansion. They couldn't have gone more than five meters outside, but the sitting room they entered bore no resemblance to the seemingly endless hallway they'd been in before, and Amanita flinched as her solar-sense jerked wildly.

She'd known the SDM was ridiculously, unreasonably large for a place that only housed a half-dozen women and their maids, but this was beyond all expectation. Now that she was paying attention to it, her solar-sense was shifting subtly with every turn they took, and even sometimes at random. The dimensions to the house made no sense.

Meiling took two rights, entered a doorway, and instead of coming out in the hallway they'd just left, came into somewhere entirely new. A small flight of stairs leading up to a set of grand doors.

They stopped outside, and Meiling let her down. Amanita swayed on her feet. The spatial mess made her head ache, but now that they'd slowed it had eased. It did nothing for her exhaustion, or her blisters, or the simmering terror of the women Remilia had been hosting.

"We're here," Meiling said, and pushed open one of the door.

Amanita walked in, and immediately felt more of her aches fade away.

Voile.

If the mansion bent space, the library ignored it entirely. This though, she was glad for. Bookshelves stretched as far as the eye could see. It was like the pictures of Outside cities she'd seen in books, only instead of buildings and towers, there were shelves and shelves. Blocks and risers and cliffs, some with sky-bridges connecting sections, others separated by platforms or walls. It was a topography made entirely of literature.

Amanita inhaled slowly, tasting old paper and ink. She exhaled, feeling her shoulders loosen.

"Oh, honestly…" Meiling was groaning beside her. "I should have guessed with your parents. Another bookworm."

Amanita gave her a smile. "Thank you, Meiling. I wouldn't have made it here without your help."

"Don't steal any of the books and we'll call it even." Meiling tousled Amanita's hair, scattering twigs and leaves that had been caught in it, and was just departing, the door closing behind her, when she paused.

"Margatroid."

Meiling was in the doorframe, half-hidden behind the door. She had turned, one reptilian eye narrowed through the gap.

"Yes?"

"Stay in the library. If you need to leave, have Patchouli send for me and I'll escort you out. Keep away from the maids. Don't let them see if you if you can help it. Words carry, and it's… it would be better if Remilia didn't see you at the moment. She's in a mood." Amanita nodded to show she understood. Or thought she did. "Good. You seem like a nice kid, but this isn't something for kids."

Amanita nodded again, and Meiling smiled. The door slid shut and she was gone.

She stared at the wooden barrier for a long moment, weighing over Meiling's words. The SDM was looking like a worse and worse choice. Like she'd maybe have had a better chance if she just stayed in the forest with all the youkai, than here, where there were webs and undertow that she knew nothing about. Nothing, but that she was nothing in comparison.

Amanita sighed slowly and glanced around the library for a moment before finding a chair. She removed her shoes before peeling off her socks. The left came away with the visceral tug of raw skin dried in place, and she hissed through her teeth at the bloody spot she'd left on the fabric.

Holding her shoes in one hand, she pocketed her socks and got up. She walked slowly into the maze of shelves.

There was nowhere to go but forward.

Voile changed its layout occasionally, but the larger shape remained the same. She knew Patchouli hated disorganization enough that the books were carefully inventoried and ordered, grouped together by topic.

But it didn't help her find the magician. And she wasn't going to start yelling. It was a library.

She'd never had the chance to spend much time here, and never alone. It was proving to be an exercise in temptation, as just walking down the first set of shelves had her glancing over a dozen different books that looked interesting. But if Patchouli was anything like her mother- and she was, then the books were either booby-trapped or warded for interference.

Amanita folded her hands in her armpits to prevent herself from grabbing, and kept walking. She limped through what looked like a history section before crossing the border into biography. She was just moving from regular to auto-biography when something brushed past her.

It was like brushing through spider thread, only she caught the stray tips of woven magic falling away, and then-

'Kirisame detected. Defenses activating.' An artificial voice from nowhere.

A shrill alarm began sounding, half-birdsong, half horn. Books began toppling off the shelves. Scattershot, falling like paper rain, only none struck the ground. They paused in midair, pages riffling furiously, only to stop and bare pages inked with blazing magical seals.

Amanita had only a second to drop her shoes and run before they opened fire.

Danmaku tore down the aisle, magical discharge putting her hair even more on end than normal, stray lightning crackling through the bookshelves. It chained, the more books that fired, the more defenses activated, the shelves coming alive ahead of her, their tomes joining the assault.

She ran faster than she ever had before. Faster than she knew she could.

The only reason they didn't hit her immediately is because the aisles were narrow enough that only so many books could aim at her at once, and they had to pick their shots so as not to damage the other library stock.

Amanita ran with fire licking her heels. She hurtled to the end of the aisle and turned, feet sliding across polished wood, and then threw herself forward, narrowly avoiding the oncoming curtain of bullets.

"Aaiiiiii ohmygods whyyyy!" she squealed, flinging herself down an aisle at random.

And immediately skidded to a halt.

The defenses had activated into a solid wall of books in front of her, all open, all shining with magical energy.

"You have to be kidding m-"

They fired.

A solid wall of rainbow bullets filled her world.

Her last conscious thought was to wonder what in the hells her mom had done to warrant this kind of attention.


XXX



Awareness came slowly.

She was awake. Recognition came a few moments later. She wasn't dead. She had been in the mansion's library, and she'd gotten… blasted?

Amanita blinked.

Tried to blink.

Attempted to frown at her inability to blink.

Panic flared inside her- where that was she didn't know, because she didn't seem to have a body.

It was like the time she'd done astral projection with Reiko, her mind and spirit departed from the physical to walk the ether, only now there was no tether to her body.

Amanita's inner monologue took up her missing mouth's task of screaming.

She reached out, trying to find the limits of her spirit, clutching for a boundary, a line at which she might find her way back to reality. And this was wrong too, because her spirit was spread out across almost a dozen square meters, instead of the neat simulacra of her form it should be. She was almost gaseous.

Amanita tugged. The boundary moved inward a bit.

If she'd had a mouth, she'd have sighed in relief.

More focus, and the edges crept inward. They gained momentum as they came, little bits and pieces, specks of
Amanita falling into place. A current formed. Bits clumped, then combined, growing larger and larger as they fused with other clusters.

The momentum was stronger now, the pieces coming into position without conscious direction. As if they knew where to go.

It took more moments of frantically observing her spirit to check, but Amanita was able to confirm that her pieces- and why was that even a thing – were beginning to reform her spiritual body.

Clumps and lumps became shapes. Shape gained definition. Texture.

Function.

With a bizarre, itching, prickling sensation like having cotton fiber brushed across the raw flesh of her eye, Amanita
blinked.

She could see once more.

Still in the library, just above a pile a rags and ashes that- had she been vaporized?! What kind of lunatic defense did Patchouli have here?

Her skin knit itself together, not from spirit as she'd initially thought, but from some kind of odd, powdery material that was floating through the air around her remains. It was only when one of her hands reformed and she had a change to touch it that Amanita realized what the white dust was.

Spores.

She'd reformed from a cloud of spores. Not astral projection at all, but reproduction. Had she exploded into spores like some kind of smushed mushroom? That was…

That… was...

Amanita's mouth reformed. The external came first, lips molding, followed by the internal carving their way into her body with an incomprehensible digging sensation. Esophagus, followed by lungs.

She inhaled.

Her scream became external. Not shrieking now, but the low, constant, breathless whine of someone pushed far beyond normalcy.

"-aahhhhhhhhh-"

There was a noise behind her.

Amanita turned- she could do that now, because she had feet.

The woman had hair like a crow, black with a purplish sheen, and wore a maid's outfit, complete with apron. Except she also had batlike wings on her back, and two sets of horns poking from her scalp. The first set were as long as Amanita's index finger, and the second just nubs.

She was currently pointing at Amanita and making a very similar sound. "Ahhhh-"

"Aahhhh!" Amanita yelled back.

The maid continued pointing and screaming.

Amanita tried to continue doing so, but her scream tapered off. She'd run out of breath.

She took an unsteady step forward. Legs. She had definite legs now. She looked down just to make sure, because she was never taking legs for granted again.

She was also naked.

There were footsteps, and then three more people joined them in the aisle. Two more maids; one was Koakuma, the other an unknown.

And a woman in a purple gown, her arms full with a heavy tome.

The book hit the floor with a noise like thunder.

Patchouli Knowledge stared at her, her mouth open.

Koakuma gave her a thumbs up and grinned.

The maid continued screaming.

Amanita wondered if she couldn't just go back to being spores.

XXX


This one went through a bunch of different drafts. Kept trying to do more with Amanita sneaking through the SDM on her own to get to the library after she and Meiling get separated, but it was all just... Xeno's Race kinda stuff. Delaying the actual plot on more travel, when that was basically last chapter too.

I wanted to do something emphasizing Amanita, rather than having her just carried there by Meiling, but instead we get one of Amanita's powers- one that she didn't know she had, and a somewhat more amusing finish.

Not 100% happy with how it turned out. If you have any constructive criticism or think it might look better a different way, I'm all ears.
And yes, that is Team Nine meeting Remilia.
 
Nerve Damage (Overwatch, Mercy/Genji)
Nerve Damage (Overwatch, Angela/Genji)


"Tell me where it hurts."

Shimada lifted his right hand. "It is not painful. It is… numb? Damage during training." His fingers opened and closed, formed a fist. "Feels clumsy."

"I see. That will be a priority for today then. Are there any other spots like this?"

He looked like he was about to shake his head, but then paused. "I am unsure. Hard to tell. So much of- of this is different. I do not know how it is supposed to feel."

Angela gave him a gentle smile. "That will take time. Getting your body into working order will be the first steps."

She pressed two fingers to the seam on Genji's forearm. "You said the issue was here?" There was a line where synthetic flesh met the metal surface of his shuriken launcher. Normally, there would be layers of armor plating over it, and the rest of him, but that was for battle. They'd be in the way. Now, he was peeled, layers pulled away and discarded so that she could examine him.

It was rare to see his face anymore. His eyes were had been among the replacements, and the cybernetics blues were watching her, following the motion of her hands across his arm.

Angela prodded gently, touching spots on his arm, moving along as he indicated yes or no. "Here? No. More along this side? I see."

Her hands dropped to his, taking his fingers one by one, curling them gently. "Stiff, numb, or pain?"

Genji finally settled on the issue being in his thumb, index, and middle.

"Ah." Angela tapped a spot just above his wrist. "I think I know. The shuriken feeder probably knocked into the ventral nerve feed. Lay back on the table for me, bitte."

Genji sighed and lay back. She tugged his arm to one side, perpendicular to his body, and settled it on a stand.

"I'm going to disconnect this part so I can work without it hurting you."

"Fine." His glare was hawklike. Genji, of course, would hate her taking him apart like a puzzle.

The computer console was already hooked up to his central chassis. It was the work of only a second to find the diagnostic maps, select his right arm, and deactivate it.

Genji hissed.

"Painful?" she asked.

"Gone."

He shifted on the table, looking at his arm in distaste. The limb was limp, fingers curled slightly inward like a dead insect.

Angela shifted it, then tapped the computer command to open the underlayer. The nanofiber split, a seam forming from nothing as the material rewrote its shape to comply. Sure enough, her diagnosis of his damage was correct. It took some fiddling, but she reset the position of the feeder before applying nanopaste to the malfunctioning circuits.

Her creation, her paste, was as malleable as clay. A command, a nudge from the computer, and it melded into the circuits, repairing and rebuilding in seconds.

"Give me five years, and I'll have you regenerating on your own, just like this," she mused.

"I'd rather you just regrow my body," he said very softly.

Angela stopped, her hands hovering over the keyboard. She sighed, turning to look at him. "That will not be possible at this time. It- let me finish, please." She held up a hand, forestalling his interruption. "What do you know about biotech research?"

"Less than you, I imagine."

Angela gave him a thin smile before returning to the console. A few passes over the keys, and Genji's arm began resealing itself. The nanofiber closed without seam, reforming into a singular, unmarred surface.

"This will sting."

Genji grit his teeth, and she reconnected his arm. The limb jerked, fingers spasming and convulsing for a moment before forming a fist.

"Are we done?" he said, voice hoarse.

"Not quite."

Angela turned away and went to her cabinet. She rummaged for a moment before coming back with the necessary tool. The device was incongruous, a small, bright green rubber ball, studded with little points.

"We need to make sure the nerves are connected properly. I roll this along your arm, and you tell where where the feeling stops. Or if it feels wrong."

Genji's arms had not originally been cybernetic. Not both of them. There had been more of the left remaining than the right. But there had been issues with weight and balance early on in testing, and she'd finally just amputated and replaced the entirety of both with machinery to settle it. Easier that way.

His right was made of the same grayish material as the rest of his underlayer. Beneath the carapace of his armor was a reinforced layer of fibrous nano-mesh. It did not feel quite like skin to the touch- more like silk, but it was thin enough that she'd been able to work in a full suite of nerve sensors. Touch, pressure, temperature, friction. A ninja's hands were his livelihood. As a surgeon, that, she could appreciate.

Angela began rolling the ball along his fingers. "You were asking about biotech."

Genji nodded, his gaze following the ball once more.

"I am a surgeon. My work mixes biotic and nanite technology to regenerate form. But it does not create. It could, given time and research."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "You have both." He jerked a head at the technological paradise that was the Overwatch medbay.

"I do. Any issues with the feeling? No? Temperature is good?" Genji jerked as she took the ball away and pressed her fingers to his palm. Trimmed nails and cool fingers ghosted along surface of his hand, tracing where the life line would be on a human palm.

Angela smirked up at him. "The anecdote about doctors and cold hands holds true, I am afraid."

He was stiff, his posture rigid, but he didn't pull away. Angela gauged his reaction, not stopping her exploration of his palm. She didn't have to guess to know this was the first human contact he'd had with anyone in quite some time. Shimada was supposedly quite the ladies man in his past life, and the look in his eyes as she held his hand was almost hungry.

"Something wrong?" she said.

"N-no." He looked away. "Continue talking."

"I have money, resources, and support," Angela said. She ended her contact with him, not missing the way his hand followed hers for just an instant as she pulled away. "But I also have limits. These things come with strings."

She returned to the ball, beginning at his wrist. The seam of flesh to metal, and his weapons attachments, she left alone, save to palpate them to make sure they were settled properly. There was no real sense in probing them with the ball- he had no sensation there. Just the vague pressure identified by the sensors in his skin, like something pressing on a fingernail.

Genji shifted as she nudged the piece of his arm where the armor plating would sit.

"Pain?"

"No." His gaze dropped. "It feels strange. Like it is a part of me, but not. But… none of this is a part of me."

"It feels out of place."

"Yes."

She rolled the ball across the area she'd repaired. "Good?"

"Fine."

"Working for Overwatch comes with rules," she said softly. "We answer to Jack, and he answers to the UN. And if the UN decided at some point after the Omnic Crisis, that one disaster averted was enough, and banned any advanced biotech research, we would have to follow those standards."

"What?!" Genji jerked forward, nearly rising off the table entirely. "Why?"

"Cloning." Angela set the ball on the table, pausing in her examination to meet his eyes. "If we created omnics and they turned on us, what would happen if cloning and biotech were allowed to advance to create new life?"

"That's- that's insane," he hissed.

"It is cowardice." Angela pressed her fingers to the nanofiber of his inner arm. Silken skin passed beneath her fingers. "And that is why we are stuck using prosthetics and cybernetics."

Genji swore. She did not know the word, it was in his native tongue, but he said it in the tone used for epithets. "Insane. I'm stuck in this thing because they're afraid. So worried about something that they've damned me to this shell."

"Genji," Angela said. "Genji, look at me." She rose. Her hands moved from forearm to elbow to shoulder to chin. His was stubbled, just enough of his skin left for a beard shadow before the underlayer replaced his neck. Angela brushed her fingers through it.

His skin was warm. He stared at her.

"You are you. No matter how much of you is machine, the components that matter are here."

A single finger pressed to his forehead.

"Please know that I have given you nothing I would not have myself."

Genji frowned at that. "What?"

"You are better now," she whispered. She followed the seam. Stubbled chin became underlayer and carapace. Cool and smooth. Impenetrable. The faint vibration of the pump system that had replaced his heart thrummed through her fingertips.

"It will not be this generation, but once I have you finalized, I will begin converting myself."

He was still staring.

"I could grow you a new arm, were I allowed. But I can build a better one. Everything I know about physiology and nanotech combined, all the gain and none of the flaws. That is the purpose of cybernetics." She pressed closer to him, stepping between his legs to stand nearly chest to chest with him. "Does this really feel any different?" Her hands across his again. Her breath against his neck.

Interesting to see how his face flushed. Angela wondered briefly how this would have played out had she removed his sex drive like she'd originally planned to, and decided that this was much more fun. All this human passion in a machine's shell. Shimada might just burst out of his skin.

"I've taken the first steps already."

She took his hands and drew them to the small of her back.

Genji gasped. "I thought- but the suit?"

His hands probed this time, following the links of her spine up, pressing to feel them through her coat and shirt. Angela shivered, pressing just a little closer to him with each vertebrae.

"Cybernetic. Full spinal replacement." She rolled her shoulders meaningfully, and he took the hint to touch there. The implant branched over her shoulder blades, fanning out for a series of ports that would, in combat, accept the wings of her Valkyrie suit.

"The suit is mostly power sources and armor. With this though, I can be one with it. My reflexes more. Faster."

His grip on her shoulders tightened, pulling them together fully now. His chest was firm, his arms encompassing. His fingers were tracing now, crossing the seams where metal met flesh, contouring the muscles in her back and shoulders.

Angela looked up, her breath heavy. "Is this embrace really any different than any before?"

Genji met her eyes. He opened his mouth. Shut it. Grimaced. "I- it is- confusing."

Slowly, Angela slid his hands away from her and stepped back. "It is overwhelming," she said. "Why don't we leave it there for today?"

His eyes widened. A flurry of emotions crossed his face, almost breathtakingly rich. He wasn't used to having his face exposed. It took away that stoic air of his.

Surprise. Shock. Hurt. Need. Longing. Confusion. Need. Frustration.

She wanted to see more. More of this. Genji's face, all twisted and wanting.

"I do not want to push too hard," Angela said gently. "Or go too fast. You said yourself that this was something you needed to get used to."

He nodded jerkily. "Yes..."

Shimada rose from the examination table slowly. His head was down, his hands opening and closing at his sides.

"Get some rest, Genji. We can pick this up another time."

His head jerked up, and she smiled at him.

That burst of expressions again. Surprise. Hope. Want. Need.

He was still looking over his shoulder at her even as he stumbled toward the door.

It hissed shut behind him, Angela waited thirty seconds, and then locked it.

She sank back into her office chair.

The laughter came, rich and easy.

This project had turned out infinitely more amusing than she'd imagined. Her aim to create her own superman, a demonstration of the cybernetic conversion techniques she was honing, had become something more. He was her opus. They'd asked her to save his life, and she'd made him art.

She was going to keep modifying him until he was perfect, and only then would she turn the knife on herself. Overwatch's resources and money turned toward the aims of Talon's greatest scientist.

In the mean time… she didn't need any surgery or mods to get Genji to become hers. His body already was.

His mind would follow in time.

XXX

That's right. Yandere!Talon!Mercy. This is about as close to romance as I get.

Came directly out reading a fic where Mercy was with Talon, and had this creepy ass sort of stockholm relationship with her Genji, and from another where it played with her having the spine attachments from her suit as cybernetics.
 
Nymphaea (Naruto)
Nymphaea (Naruto)


Amegakure had levels.

It was a city built of them. A layer cake growing up from pylons sunk so deep enough into the lakebed that they touched the center of the world. The next layer was pumps. Like the air bladders that kept aquatic plants afloat, Ame was kept where it was by a sprawling root system of pumps and pipes. The poorest citizens were forced to live with the ever present thrum of pumping machinery, and it was said that a true Ame resident's heart beat in time with the pumps themselves.

The next layer was houses. Apartments. Buildings. The strata of any city. There were even a handful of parks. Difficult for an artificial city, but not impossible with the jutsu out there.

Izumi lived in the housing layer. Midway up, just before the apartments became really comfortable in any way. Her apartment was a single, and just big enough for her futon in the evenings, and a kotatsu during the day.

It was the kotatsu she was thinking of at present. The rains had been cold that day, catching an unseasonable chill that cut away the usual humidity and replaced it with bite. Her umbrella and raincoat hadn't done much against the horizontal spray of rain that always kicked up when she crossed the higher sky-bridges.

Most of Ame's important places were higher up, in the upper levels of towering buildings. The Academy, in a design idea she was sure was sadism, was at the tip-top of a fat government building. Getting there, for her, required five separate sky-bridges and a detour through the redlight district.

Feet heavy with a long day of training, Izumi plodded home. She'd reached the stage of wetness where it stopped mattering so much, because there weren't really measurable grades between 'drenched' and 'soaked.'

The real annoyance was the sopping bandage wrapped around her left palm. They'd been doing weapon practice that day, and she'd fumbled a kunai and grabbed for it without thinking. Her sensei had wrapped the wound up and told her to get back to work. Typical. Her sensei was more scar tissue than human.

She'd need to clean it when she got home. Dealing with the moisture was something every Ame nin learned on day one of Academy. Izumi's understanding was that it was something along the lines of 'if you can deal with omnipresent, torrential rain, you can deal with anything. Now treat that before it falls off.'

She shook her hand slightly, wincing at the little flash of pain it generated. She used her elbow to push open the door into the shopping complex. The air inside was musty, filled with the scent of too much incense and too many bodies.

Folding her umbrella, she descended a flight of stairs into the area proper. The crowd there was middling, just beginning to bustle. The civilians had started getting off work, so the redlights were filling up. She wove between them, using her elbows and umbrella to shove past anyone who dragged their feet.

The shopkeeps and workers had long since grown used to her, so no one got in her way, though a few civilians did double-takes when she passed. Izumi rolled her eyes. There was never anything fun to see out in the open anyway. She'd had her run of the kinkier shops once she figured out henge, but she'd ended up too embarrassed to buy anything. Not that she had the money for any of the fun stuff anyway.

She umbrellaed her way through a knot of rough looking laborers arguing over who got to take the first run at the best whore at that particular shop. The woman, who was admittedly very pretty, looked more bored than anything. She was casting seductive smiles at the men, now rifling through their wallets to check funds, but her eyes were flat. Uninterested.

Izumi hurried on, her skin crawling.

There was nothing wrong with that. Everyone had to make their own way, and not everyone could be fortunate enough to be ninja. If she hadn't had chakra, she might well be there herself.

But gods, it was just so… gross.

She paused at a junction in the path. A staircase would take her down into the next leg of her walk, while going straight would lead to her favorite shop in the district.

A raucous cheer came from behind her, as one of the men won the honor of going first. Izumi shuddered, her uninjured hand white-knuckled around her umbrella.

As much as she wanted to leave, she needed something to get the taste of that scene out of her mouth.

She went straight.

The adult bookstore sat at the end of the aisle, sandwiched between a ramen shop and a shop peddling some exotic leather goods. It was small, no bigger than five by five meters, but every inch was crammed with merchandise. It was a maze of floor to ceiling shelves, all filled and double-stacked with books and magazines.

The shopkeep nodded to her as she entered. The old man was good people. His prices were cheap enough for her to afford on the shoestring budget Ame provided for orphans, and he didn't give a frig if she was twelve or twenty-seven.

It didn't take long for her to navigate through the stacks to her favorite shelf.

Novels.

This was the good stuff. Not just smut or bodice rippers, but books with actual plot to go with the dirty parts. That was what made them interesting. Smut was just… meaningless. It was like watching those men debate over buying a whore. Anonymous strangers rutting. People she didn't care about.

The center of the novel section was dominated by the orange spines of the Icha Icha series, but she'd never had much taste in them. A little too obviously written by a man. Written one-handed by a man. Blech.

She'd torn through the Lily of the Valley saga, and was waiting for the next one to come out- it hadn't yet. The author was apparently 'doing research.' But the books had ads in the back for stuff from the same publisher.

She snagged a couple of those, perusing the different series for something that caught her taste. The first went back on the shelf. Too dry. The second and third were apparently sequels to series she'd never heard of. The fourth was about a duo of female bounty hunters, scrapping away to survive, both of them apparently very much inclined toward the fairer sex. Seemed like it was as much about their struggles and friendship as it was about the girl on girl.

Nice. She checked the shelf- the book had a sequel, which she grabbed as well, before making her way up to the owner.

She had to dig through her change purse to get enough for both of them, and she wouldn't have any spare cash until her next payday, but she left the shop with her head held high, books wrapped up under her arm.

Leaving the redlight was like coming clean. Not just because it was pouring once again, but because the air outside was cool and fresh, thick with the taste of the rain. It was the kind of shower she'd normally walk through without an umbrella, but her books were still clenched in one hand, and it was a long way home.

She squelched across the skybridge from the redlight, passing through an apartment building before descending a spiral staircase to a lower rooftop. The foot-traffic was lighter now. Though not rich enough to live higher up, most of the people who lived here were still affluent enough to take in the entertainment district after work. Even now the bridges and pass-throughs of the district would be filling with families, out on the town after a long week at work.

Izumi paused on her next bridge, looking down. A pavilion was set up on an open area just below. Stalls and kiosks thronged with customers, moving with the same vibrancy the redlight had had, but none of the filth. There would be more than just families down there. Some of her classmates, surely. The ones with spending money, and people to spend it with. Friends. Dates. Parents.

She sighed, hefted her armful of smut, and continued on.

The final stretch to her building was a long, arching bridge that spanned one of the main roads in Ame. More elaborate in design than most bridges, this one was framed with red arches, almost like torii, and a number of statues stood facing out over the road, greeting guests to Ame with raised hands and open arms.

The largest was at the center, a massive arch stood over a bronze statue as big as an elephant. It was two-sided, one facing the street, another facing the bridge. A man, his legs folded under him, left hand held up, index and middle finger raised, the others curled inward. His right was in his lap, holding a lotus flower. Ten other arms emerged from behind him, each holding an object or making a hand-sign.

His features were indistinct- something she'd never liked about this statue. Other artisans would cast their depictions of God with various elements, horns, halos, crowns, tears, etc. But this one was not. All it had was a smooth, bald head, and odd, wide eyes. It was hard to tell, but she thought the sculptor might have given the statue mandalas for eyes. Weird.

There were two boxes in front of it. One with a slot in the top, and another that was open on one side. Izumi stopped, pulled the last few coins from her purse, and dropped them in the box. Basically broke was the same as broke.

She pressed her palms together in a quick prayer. "God, please help the money go to someone who needs it." The whore's face flashed through her mind. Flat, empty eyes, like a statue's. Could have been her. "And… protect me from misfortune?"

It didn't feel like enough, so she went to the second box. The wish box. This one was larger, more of an enclosed bulletin board, with hundreds of paper slips clipped to it. A stack of blank slips and a pen were in a little basket in the bottom.

Izumi pulled one free and paused, pen hovering over it. The words were there. I wish no one would have to sell themselves to live. But it felt hollow. She was just as lustful and foul as the clients who bought the whores. And she'd thought of it before. Entertained the idea of doing it. Buying one.

She just… it wasn't what she wanted, but it was close. That was love, wasn't it? Sort of?

Izumi sighed. She put the pen down.

Her eyes trailed across the other slips.

'Help my son find work.'

'My father is a ninja, please get him home safe.'

'I am too weak to do the right thing. Help me be better.'

'Avenge my family on Konoha.'


Her gaze settled on an odd shape in the bottom corner. Not a slip. She blinked, and looked closer.

It was an origami flower. One of the paper slips had been written on, then folded dozens of times into an ornate blossom, more detailed than even the lotus sitting in the statue's lap. A crossbreeze rustled the slips and shifted the minute inner petals of the flower.

Izumi stared. It was… beautiful. Most of the slips had gotten at least a little splashed with rain by now, and were kind of melty, but the flower was tucked away in the corner, protected from the water. Immaculate.

Her free hand rose, and was already reaching out for it when she caught herself.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

That was someone's wish to God, written on paper to give it substance. A disclosure of their most heartfelt desires.

But… what kind of person would make a wish like that? Stand out here in the rain for however long it took to fold the flower.

What had they wished for?

Her hand inched closer.

"This is fucked up. Seriously."

Maybe God had meant for her to see this message and be inspired by it? Or maybe that was an excuse so thin she couldn't even pretend to believe it.

Her fingertips brushed paper.

Izumi wanted it. More than she'd wanted the books, or new kunai this morning, or someone to walk the festival with in the evening. She wanted to look at the flower and see what it said, because maybe, just maybe, the person who'd made it was someone who… who… wanted too.

Her hand closed around it like a baby bird, not daring to hold tight for fear of crushing it.

Izumi turned and ran, heels kicking up spray as she hurtled along the final bridge to her apartment building. She came in from the rain, clutching her books and umbrella under one arm, the flower in her hand, held out like a sacred relic, and didn't stop running until she slid into the dim hallway where her door was.

17-H opened and closed. She locked it behind her and slumped against the door. Her clothes were wet, clinging to her back, and the bag of books finally slipped away to thud against the floor.

She sank down, following the bag to the ground.

Izumi opened her hand slowly.

The flower was unharmed, maybe a tiny bit misty from her run through the rain, but otherwise undamaged. Black lines ran across the petals at random, bits and pieces of the larger message broken up by the folds.

She licked dry lips, staring at it, trying to decode the words there.

It was impossible. She'd never know unless she unfolded it.

And once it was unfolded, the holiness of the flower would be gone. It wouldn't just be something she stole, but something she desecrated as well. There would be no returning it.

But she'd gone this far. And she needed to know.

She tugged the smallest petal in the center. The paper was so delicate that she let go immediately, fearing that she'd torn it.

It took her another minute to recover after that, her heart pounding at the idea of tearing the slip.

She started from the outside this time. The calyx, the outer layer of flower that shielded the rest. Izumi pressed it down, nudging it away from the main body with gentle pokes.

From there it was just a matter of teasing apart the layers until it unfolded. She fiddled with it, working with surgical precision, before it finally, randomly, just clicked, and the layers split apart. The flower wasn't one slip- it was three, twisted together to form something greater.

The first two slips were blank.

It was only the last, that had formed the core of the flower, that was written on.

Izumi held it, not looking at it until the last folds were undone.

It was written not in pen, but in ink. A woman's delicate brushstrokes curved and curled across the page, as much a work of art as the flower itself, ruined now by the creases.

'The man I loved is dead. The man I love is dying. I am terrified to be alone again.'


XXX
 
Nymphaea 2
Nymphaea

2


Izumi barely slept that night.

Panic had set in when she realized the magnitude of what she'd just done. Stealing from God. She spent hours pacing her apartment, homework forgotten on the floor, circling the unfolded flower now sitting on her little table.

Fear eventually gave way to dread, and she forced herself to go to bed. She expected to lie awake for hours, but sleep came quickly, creeping up on a mind exhausted from working itself into tighter and tighter knots.

Her dreams were muddled and murky. Half-glimpsed, remembered only in flashes of clutching hands and judging eyes.

She woke twice before morning, each time jerking up at some change in the background noise. The constant patter of rain on the awning over her tiny balcony. The wind picking up and rattling the door in its frame. Her tired mind imagined the rain stopping, as it only did when God descended to walk the streets, coming to judge her crime.

Morning was a stiff, jagged affair, dragging herself out of her futon and staggering through her routine. Any sense of relief or reprieve from her sleep lasted only seconds, as her mind dutifully whirred into action and regurgitated exactly why she felt so awful.

Izumi made it halfway through breakfast before she remembered her homework, and the papers due today. She decided she didn't care, though the blank pages did nothing for the weight currently bearing down on her.

Attending school was another story. She hovered, sandals in hand, pacing again, glancing between the door and window.

Would not going be more suspicious? Or would she turn up to the academy and find a crowd waiting, already organized to punish her?

It was finally the thought of lingering in the apartment all day, bouncing off walls growing closer and closer until she finally went nuts and confessed, that got her to leave.

She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her box-lunch, and departed.

The rain was lighter this morning, closer to a gentle misting than an actual downpour. To Izumi, it felt like it was moments away from becoming nothing at all, as God came down for her.

She wasn't tremendously religious. Her parents, judging by the few belongings she had of them, had been devout, but that had been before God came to Ame. She didn't pray more than a little, and only ever at a shrine.

But God had earned his title. A man powerful enough to ascend to a deity. Who single-handedly united a nation gripped by centuries of war.

Someone who knew every inch of the land beneath his rain.

He knew.

She fretted all the way to school.

Her homeroom was mostly empty; she'd arrived earlier than usual, but she took her seat and waited for it to fill. Her classmates were predominately boys, and weren't really interested in talking to her. The few kunoichi in the class were almost entirely from clans, and the two that weren't were both from high enough social classes among civilians that she didn't really have anything in common with them.

There were other orphans, other civilian-descended ninja, and they might talk on normal days, but today Izumi wasn't having it.

She was twisting a lock of gray-green hair around her fingers, coiling it in repetitive, neurotic motions, well before the teacher made his appearance.

XXX

It was a day as close to Hell as she could imagine. Every raised voice or loud noise, every approaching set of footsteps in the corridor outside the classroom. It was all distorted. Everything became oncoming doom. Her judgment, in everything that caught her eye.

Izumi twitched and flinched her way through classes until lunch. She begged off from the usual crowd of casual acquaintances and made for the bathroom. Her stomach was already roiling, and the scent of food, the idea of eating, sent her gorge rising. She made it to the sink- nowhere near the toilet, just in time to heave up half-digested breakfast and spew until there was nothing left by sour bile and her heart pounding in her ears.

Her afternoon sensei had just entered the classroom when she returned. He was a career chunin, keen enough to take one look at her pale face and raw lips, and ask her if she was feeling well.

Izumi had to shake her head. The urge to spill her guts- literally and figuratively, was too strong.

He sent her home.

Izumi went.

It felt like walking to the gallows.

The ever-present terror was greater now. The streets were less densely populated with most citizens at work, but every stranger, every noise around a corner was magnified into that same doom. The relative quiet and solitude only made it worse. She was alone, walking through hostile territory.

She moved quickly across bridges and paths- another route today to avoid the redlight – God would see and judge, and that would only incur more wrath, wouldn't it? Legs shifting between scarecrow stiff and ramen limp, Izumi sleepwalked her way home.

She looked up, expecting to see the entrance to her apartment bloc.

The golden face of the God statue looked down at her, his ringed eyes stern and disapproving.

Her feet had carried her to the scene of the crime.

Izumi dropped to the ground. Her knees scraped concrete, landing in a puddle, but she stayed down.

"I'm sorry."

She bowed. Hands forward, her face pressed flat against the cold stone, bangs soaking in the puddle.

"Please forgive me."

There was no response. No crash of thunder. No massive, golden hand coming down to smash her like an insect.

Izumi rose slowly, still kneeling. Something warm slid down her cheek, and it took her a moment to realize she was crying. Hot tears joined raindrops.

"What should I do?"

No response.

"Please."

Golden eyes held her in place.

Izumi shuddered, frantically looking over the shrine for a sign, an inspiration.

Her gaze found the source of all the trouble.

The wish box.

But she couldn't just bring the pages back. The message was already read, the flower unfolded. It was done.

And wishing for forgiveness? That was just… stupid. You didn't wish for something like that. You had to make it happen.

She came to her feet. Moved toward the box.

Some of the slips were the same, some different. There was no origami slip though.

Of course there wasn't.

She needed to write a slip though. That much felt certain. The pieces were falling into place.

Izumi needed to write something, write back to make this right.

Write… back.

She repeated the thought in her head a couple times.

Her eyes went wide.

"Of course!"

She snatched up the pen and a slip.

Stopped.

What to write though?

The previous message had been a woman baring her heart and soul. Her deepest fears.

She was halfway through writing before she scribbled it out and crumpled up the slip. She pocketed the ball and began anew.

It took four more tries before she had something legible and right.

It needed a be a trade. Paying karma for karma, otherwise she'd be doomed for sure.

A secret revealed in return.

'I'm alone too. I worry that I'll always be alone. That being an orphan means always being that way.'

And a wish.

'I wish that the origami woman would find someone so she isn't alone. That her love may live. Trade my lot for hers, o God, please. Let me be alone and unloved she won't have to be.'

It took her another half-dozen fiddly attempts with practice sheets before she got the origami down. It looked… she grimaced. It looked like dog shit. Like a little kid having their first go at the hobby.

It was supposed to be a cat. It was cat-like, if she tilted her head to the side. Two legs, boxy head, and a stub tail.

But it was complete, and it wasn't getting any better.

Izumi pinned it up in the corner of the box where the flower had been.

Above her, the statue was still and silent, a sentinel in the rain.

She pressed her palms together, said a quick prayer for forgiveness, and then ran like hell for home.

XXX

She woke the next morning in a tangle of damp, sweaty blankets. Getting out of her futon was an ordeal, all feeble limbs and panting breaths.

She'd gotten so stressed that it had actually made her sick.

Not that she didn't have reason to stress.

It was only desperate hope that let her believe her return slip would be an acceptable trade for the flower. Because the alternative meant that divine retribution was still coming.

Or maybe that getting sick was just the beginning? Bad karma snowballing until she was buried under the weight of her sins.

The thought sent her heart pounding in a way that made her dizzy. Might have just been the fever.

Academy wasn't happening today. She'd be lucky to make the walk there without collapsing, and her nerves were still frayed to the breaking point.

Huffing and puffing with the effort of moving, Izumi crawled back into bed. Her apartment didn't ever face the sun directly, so it was constantly dim and gloomy. The perfect environment for her to sink back into a sleep mired in fever dreams.

Waking for the second time wasn't any easier. Her sweat-soaked t-shirt was half-twisted around her body, and she'd shifted during sleep in such a way as to leave an awful kink in her neck.

She stripped, showered, and dressed in the loose clothes she usually wore when lazing about.

It was… not so much easier to be calm now as it was that she'd gone numb. What was going to happen would happen. She'd done her part, now it was time to see what God's choice would be.

She giggled weakly at the thought.

Breakfast- lunch? She glanced at the clock. Lunch found her rummaging through the tiny kitchenette for something to eat. Just moving about was tiring, and her head was thudding dully, but there was nothing that could be easily made to eat.

She finally sighed and dropped the can of soup stock back into the cupboard.

There was a food stand a couple levels down on one of the main roads. Not more than a five minute walk normally.

Izumi bundled up, pulling on the heavy raincoat she used in the winter. It was too warm for it, but that was the fever talking. And getting soaked would only make it worse.

Her wallet was empty. She bit her lip before dipping into the jar in her closet where she was saving up for a sword.

Just a couple bills. She'd replace twice as many next payday. That was the deal.

Karma for karma, a little voice echoed out of her head.

The notes got stuffed in her jacket pocket as she made for the door.

Where going to school required her to go up at the juncture at the end of her bloc, getting to the shop had her descending. Four flights of dreary concrete stairs, the landings littered with trash or pungent with urine. They got worse the closer they got to the street. More accessible for anyone to come and go.

Izumi held onto the railing all the way down, using it to keep from falling whenever her head spun too badly.

Staggering steps carried her into the market. A massive canopy spanned the entire street, canvas diverting the rain away. The sudden dryness was always a bit shocking. She was outside, so it should be wet.

She laughed softly at that.

A fishmonger looked sideways at her.

Izumi kept walking.

Just the fever talking.

The stall was just a bit further in, an oasis of color with its bright red awning and bunting. She stumbled through the curtain and sank onto an empty stool between two men.

"Welcome!" the shopkeep bellowed, waving at her from behind the stove.

Izumi waved a limp hand back. His words were too loud. Her head was thumping worse than before. The color, and the sound, and the smell of eel on the grill, was… just too much.

"Unadon, please," she said slowly, aiming her question at the shopkeep's assistant. "And green tea."

She wasn't sure what his response was, but she shoved bills at him, and he took them. After a moment, he returned her change, and Izumi let herself slump onto the counter and buried her face in her arms.

The thud of bowl hitting counter woke her. She sat up, just in time for the assistant to draw back from where he'd been about to nudge her.

"Thank you," Izumi mumbled.

The food was good. Perhaps too heavy on an empty, churning stomach, but it stayed down long enough for her to finish. More importantly, the tea cleared her head and sinuses.

She was just slurping up the last of the eel when a conversation further down the bar caught her ear.

"- in Konoha! I heard Orochimaru rolled in and offed the Hokage," the man sitting to her right said, gesturing wildly over his fish.

His associate, a woman in a loose robe, rolled her eyes. "Eh. Couldn't he have at least done us the pleasure of dying too? Snake bastard. I ever tell ya he wiped out my grandad during the war?"

"A thousand times." The man downed the last of his sake and waved for more. "But Konoha's a real mess right now. I bet Kumo invades."

"Don't say that! We're right in the middle of it."

Izumi sat up straight on her stool. War. But… she was a ninja. A trainee, yes, but a ninja still. If there was a war, would she get pulled in? It was part of her duty to Ame, but… War.

"Er… excuse me?" she said softly.

The man glanced around before looking over his shoulder. "Aye? You need the salt or something, sweetie?"

"Do you think there'll be war?"

The two adults exchanged a dark look.

"Shit, kid," the woman said. "We were just talking. Don't worry about it."

"Don't swear in front of the girl!" The man turned to face her fully, his expression placatory. "We were just speculating, yeah? Even if there was a war, it wouldn't involve us. Ame's neutral. Nothing to gain from getting involved."

"I was just wondering," Izumi said. Her heart was beginning to pound, and every beat sent an unpleasant, echoing throb through her skull. "I'm at Academy now, but… I'm still a ninja, right?"

The man set his drink down, staring. "Fuckin… just a kid."

"No." The woman spoke this time, leaning around the man to meet Izumi's eyes. "That, you don't gotta worry about. My nephew's a chunin. Saotome Yamada, you know him? No? Doesn't matter. Kids don't go to war in Ame."

Izumi frowned. "Sorry?"
The woman repeated herself. "God's decree. You're too young to remember it, but when he took power, there were a lot of kids your age on the front against Konoha. God stopped that. Gotta be at least a fully qualified genin to go into combat, and even then it's just minor missions. Getting your feet wet. Saotome tells me about it when he's in town."

Something stiff and metallic unknotted in Izumi's spine. She sagged, catching herself on the bar. "That's… that's good to hear."

The adults began talking about the last war, and Izumi politely excused herself.

She tipped, thanked the chef for the meal, and departed.

The climb back up to her apartment was longer than she'd realized. Coming down had been mostly gravity, a controlled fall. Going up was entirely her. Hips and legs and knees working, all off-kilter, moving in a drunken rhythm to send her lurching up a few stairs at a time, then pausing to catch her breath.

She nearly lost her lunch on the third landing, and it was only sheer willpower that kept it down.

The familiar hallway to her apartment appeared after a long while. She wasn't sure how long it had taken, only that she couldn't remember the last couple sets of stairs.

Izumi paused on the threshold.

She could go home and go to bed.

Or… she could keep going. Three more levels to the bridge. And the shrine.

If there was a change, or some kind of sign, it would be there.

If she didn't, she was going to wonder until she did.

More than that though, she needed to.

She sighed and turned toward the up-flight.

The ascent had a dreamlike haze to it. Her head was throbbing painfully now, and her vision swimming and looping erratically.

The open sky above the bridge brought rain, chilly on her burning skin, but enough to clear the haze once more.

She crossed the bridge, feet dragging, toes of her sandals kicking through puddles.

The shrine was unchanged. The statue hadn't moved. There was no sign of some great passage.

Izumi leaned on the wish box to catch her breath. At least her dumb origami cat was still… was still…

Her return slip was gone.

She stared, wide-eyed for a long moment, her hair slowly growing lank around her face. She slicked her bangs with with her fingers before returning to staring.

Anyone could have taken it, but she knew that it had been the origami woman. It wouldn't just be some random person.

A smile slowly formed on her lips.

The offering was accepted.

She looked up to meet God's eyes.

Kids don't go to war in Ame. That's God's decree.

How many other things had God done, how many mandates had he given that had changed the course of her life?

A fat raindrop splattered the concrete at her feet, ripples forming in one of the puddles.

One action with wide-reaching results.

And… God's rain covered the entire country. His actions reached an entire people.

Suddenly, the massive golden statue didn't seem quite grand enough to do him justice.

Izumi pressed her palms together once more.

For the first time in her life, she felt truly, honestly faithful.

She walked home, savoring the rain, and not even nearly vomiting on the climb down could detract from her mood.

XXX

Elsewhere


"Higher up, please. It needs to be over the tenketsu."

"Here?"

"Mine are a little recessed. A tiny bit to the left- yes, there, perfect."

The needle was curved, almost fish-hooked, to let it arc smoothly through a loop of skin over his spine. She pressed it through, holding his skin on the other side so that it didn't deviate.

He was silent, his arms on his knees, his head down as she worked on him. They'd done this enough that he didn't even hiss at the pain. She had always been surprised that he could even feel pain with this body, but apparently he could. She wished sometimes he hadn't confided that in her. It made every in-and-out of the needle just a little more guilty.

She withdrew the needle and picked up the chakra receiver from a surgical tray. This one had been constructed as a hinged ring, one end male, one female. Using the needle hole as a guide, she began inserting the receiver. It was… unpleasant, on a visceral level. Like stabbing someone in slow motion.

The male end emerged from the hole, tip sheened with red. She clicked the ring shut and sealed the clasp with a quick burst of fire chakra between her fingertips.

"There. You'll be able to do the rest yourself?"

He stood, his movements stiff and jerky. She stepped back and waited for him to acclimate.

He rolled his shoulders, then his elbows, wrists, hands, and then fingers, working them individually. The actions repeated, large to small, as he worked out the kinks. It took a few minutes, but he eventually stopped stretching and turned.

"It will do, thank you." He smiled – and that was always odd – Nagato's crooked smile on another man's face. "It's much less of a strain than using another Path to do the ones I can't reach."

"This one is… Animal?"

"Yes." He flicked the body's long hanging bangs, still the mint-green color of its original host. "I'll finish inserting the receivers in a little while. You can go back to your message. Is that from a spy?" He chuckled weakly, his mood light after a successful integration of the new body. "Why in the world did they make it origami?"

Konan eyed the letter sitting on the table between them. "That, I'll have to find out."


====

This story is ending up surprisingly religious... I do find fictional religions very interesting, but it will shift somewhat as things get moving.

Largely a chapter about Izumi's internal struggle. The conversation at the restaurant was a late edition, but I think it works well to justify that section. Otherwise it's just a page about Izumi going to dinner. Child soldiers definitely felt like the kinda thing Pain wouldn't be okay with. Dude's kind of a nut, but after growing up as an orphan in a war torn nation, there's no way he's going to go for child soldiers when he doesn't have to. That... that's probably true for all the nations at this point except Mist and Sound.

It also helps us establish a timeline for where we're at. Not particularly relevant at this point, but it will matter a bit more eventually. Don't expect this to be some giant epic or to segue into the stations of canon, as seen from Ame. That's not what this story is about at all.
 
Nymphaea 3
3

"Kerono!"

Izumi jerked to her feet. "Sensei!"

"You were sick yesterday. How're you feeling?" Ruto Sensei was eyeballing her, his scarred face twisted into its usual frown.

"Alright, I guess?"

"Good. Get in there." And that was all the warning he had before he shoved her into the ring.

The combat rings in their training hall were about five meters at their widest, marked with a circle of paint on the floor, now scuffed from years of sandaled feet.

Izumi found herself facing Haji, another one of the civilian orphans. She nodded to him, and he returned it, his face impassive.

It was a bad match up. She was a little taller than most of the other girls in class, but he was a full head above her, and well-muscled. She vaguely remembered hearing him mention that he sometimes did manual labor on the side for a quick buck. It meant he had weight and reach on her, a lot of it.

And there was no girl/boy split in combat class. Fighting a bigger, stronger boy was just good training for real life. Izumi scowled. Kicks to the groin were still forbidden though. Lousy, squeamish male teachers.

"Begin!" Ruto barked.

Haji moved in slowly, falling into an open-armed grappling stance. He was going to use his superior weight to try and take her down. And Izumi wasn't a good grappler. All the writhing and grabbing was just weird and uncomfortable.

He lunged, coming in low to try and knock her off her feet. Izumi dodged to the side, flicking a kick into the back of his knee. Haji grunted, but turned and grabbed for her, nearly seizing her sleeve.

She yelped and fell back a few more steps. Haji rushed again, but she was ready this time. She dropped to a crouch and then leapt straight up in the air, hopping over him like a frog. His momentum carried her under him, and she used her airtime to send both feet into the back of Haji's head.

He stumbled and then tripped, nearly falling out of the ring.

"Gotcha!" Izumi crowed.

"Get in there, Kerono!" Ruto yelled from the sidelines.

She closed in. She'd missed her opportunity, and Haji was already rising. She aimed a kick at his head, but he caught it on his arm and knocked it away.

They came together and the fight began in earnest. Haji was no longer attempting solely to grapple. Now, he had added grabs and heavy punches to his arsenal. She had to avoid both, after a counterpunch turned into a grab that nearly sent her to the mat.

She flurried kicks at him, aiming for the same spots on his legs and thighs each time, forcing him to divert his punches to block her. Every time he dropped his guard, she'd use the opening to punch at his face.

She was hitting him more, but every one of his blows was enough to rattle her bones, and the single punch that glanced her head sent lights dancing behind her eyes. His strength was too high, compared to hers. This was a contest that would be decided with weapons or jutsu in the real world, but she was allowed neither here.

His endurance was better too. He was breathing lightly, but she was beginning to sweat. The effort of sending hit after hit at him was wearing at her.

He swung, and she ducked and rolled away, creating space between them to think.

This was a taijutsu match, and he had the advantages there for sure. There were things that didn't matter with how strong you were- joints and weak points like eyes and throat. But she didn't want to hit those for fear of actually hurting him. This was just training, not a death match.

"Ameno, get in there in and hit her, for God's sake! She's not made of glass!" Ruto was still circling the ring like an angry bull, glaring at the both of them.

Something clicked at his words. Izumi smiled thinly.

Buoyed by Ruto's words, Haji closed in. He jabbed at her face. She blocked. Another jab. Another block. He threw a heavier punch.

She let it through.

An explosion of pain sent the world spinning sideways.

Something hard and flat hit her side, and it took her a moment to realize it was the floor. Izumi groaned. Her nose was full of hot, sick pain, and she could taste the copper of a bloody nose.

"Oh! Oh man, Izumi, are you okay?" Haji said, his voice suddenly high with panic.

His heavy footsteps came towards her.

She rolled over slowly, trying to get her legs under her.

"Izumi?"

"Owww," she moaned. "By dose."

Hands brushed her shoulder.

She cracked a watery eye open.

Haji was within arm's reach, bending awkwardly to look down at her. "Izu-"

Izumi unfolded. She lunged up at him and grabbed Haji around the neck. He had time to gasp before she used his imbalanced stance to pull him over. Haji crashed to the mat and she found herself on top of him.

She pinned his arms with her knees, using her body weight to hold him down, before jabbing her fingers toward his throat. It would be a killing blow in real life, though she was going to stop here and not make contact.

And then Haji sat up. He pressed his hands flat against the floor and curled like he was doing a sit-up. Izumi squeaked as he shook her off like a bug and sent her tumbling to the floor in front of him.

She tried to scramble up, but he was faster. A leg swept hers from underneath her- she'd missed it coming through the waves of pain still radiating through her head, and she hit hard enough that her vision rolled and keeled for an instant.

Big hands caught hers- both in one of his, and his knee drove into her midsection. Izumi wheezed as he knocked the breath out of her. Haji held her flat, his weight and her windedness enough to keep her down.

"Match over," Ruto called. "Winner, Ameno."

"Sorry," Haji said. He pulled away, then helped her up. Izumi let him. Her balance had taken a leave of absence, and it was hard to focus with her sinuses full of blood. "Didn't mean to whack you like that."

"Who can tell me what Kerono did wrong?" Ruto was facing the rest of the class now, hands on hips. "How about what she did right? Or the same for Ameno?"

"He used his strength to his advantage," someone said.

"He out-weighs her," said someone else. "But she doesn't weigh enough to pin him."

"All true," Ruto said, nodding. "What else? Kerono, any thoughts?"

She sniffed, clutching a workout towel to her gushing nose. "When I play possum because I got hurt… don't actually get hurt."

"Almost. Kerono's idea was sound. She played off Ameno's expectations. Girls, this is a technique you can and will use. Men will underestimate women. They will pull their punches- speaking of which, Ameno, pull your punches against a girl again and I'll have you fighting kunoichi until your balls drop off!"

Haji blanched. "Yes, sensei."

"Turn an injury into an opportunity," Ruto continued. "It was a good strategy. She forced him to approach on her terms, and had we been using weapons, he would have lost. Kerono's other mistake was that if you intend to fake an injury, don't let your physically stronger opponent deck you right in the face!" He pointed toward the door. "Kerono, nurse's office. The rest of you, pair off for sparring drills."

XXX

As it turned out, Haji had broken her nose.

The school med-nin unbroke it, his palms humming with green healing chakra, and then slapped a stiff bandage over it to hold it in place. He gave her a list of all the things she would need to do to recover from her healing, ended it with "And don't get hit in the face for at least a week," and then sent her off.

Izumi stumbled out of the office, still sniffling through sinuses just beginning to unclot. Somehow, healing hadn't done much for the actual pain, and her whole face ached, hot bolts radiating out from her nose to run through her jaw.

This week was officially terrible.

Her next class was the last of the day, but it was just history, and it wasn't like that was going anywhere.

"'m going home," she muttered thickly. She was just beginning to trudge toward the exit when there were footsteps behind her.

"Kerono!"

Izumi turned, just in time to catch Haji flinching at the sight of her bandage.

"Yeah?"

He rubbed the back of his head, his eyes on the floor. "Just- just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"My face hurts."

"Sorry."

"Shouldn't have gotten hit like that." She rubbed her face gingerly. It wasn't swelling, but it was probably going to bruise. "It was dumb."

"Yeah." Haji blinked. "Not that I mean that you're dumb, I just mean that- that- you know?"

She looked at him. Talking made her face hurt.

She shrugged again.

Haji seemed to read her right though, because his shoulders relaxed.

"Do you mind if I walk with you for a bit?"

"Why?" He still had class.

"You're going home, right? You're hurt, and I dunno… it didn't seem right?"

Izumi shrugged again. "If you want."

She hefted her bag over one shoulder and started toward the doors again. Haji was quick to move to her side, only to slow down to match her much shorter stride.

It was only after they passed out into the misty afternoon humidity that she turned her attention on him once more.

"So… What do you want?"

Haji stuttered to a stop, and she could see the excuse forming on his lips. Izumi glared, and she held up his hands.

"Alright! I wanted to ask you something."

His eyes dropped again, and- was he blushing?

"I didn't want to like… ask you in front of everyone else. It's embarrassing."

Oh no. Was he confessing to her? This was how it went in the books. A couple alone in some quiet location, and the boy would blurt out his feelings and- no no no noooo!

A shrill, panicked noise like a tea kettle escaped her.

"Can you help me ask someone out!?" Haji yelled, his face now glowing.

"I'm engaged!" Izumi shrieked. "Arranged to a rich noble- wait, what?"

They both stared. Her murky green eyes squinting into his blue.

"Are you really?" he asked.

Only in certain nighttime fantasies about arranged marriages to lusty foreign princesses.

"...no." The rest of what he said trickled through. "You… wanted me to help you confess to someone?"

He nodded dumbly.

"Why?"

"You sit next to Hajime-san. And uh- you're a girl, so I figured you'd have a lot of knowledge about romance and stuff? All my friends are guys, and they're kinda… dumb about sappy stuff like that."

The face to match the name came to her. Hajime Mikoto was the girl who sat to her immediate left. She was a clan kid from a fairly well-to-do family, and she and Izumi had never spoken beyond 'I dropped my eraser, can I use yours?' levels of conversation.

Hajime was not only a fairly decent kunoichi, well-off, but also very, very pretty. Like, distractingly so. There was a definite reason Izumi had always chosen the boy to her right whenever they had to pair up in class. Hajime was all soft, golden hair and amber eyes, and way way out of her league.

And Haji's.

Izumi repeated this thought to him. To his credit, Haji nodded.

"I know. It's just… I need to at least try. She's rich, and I'm just a dumbass orphan loser. I'm so low that I don't even have a real last name. But I can't think of anything else but blurting it out. And girls are supposed to know romance stuff, and you're the only girl I know."

That wasn't quite it, and they both knew it. He was talking to her because Izumi was one of the only civilian kunoichi in class. Socially, they were on the same strata.

"What's in it for me?" As much as her heart fluttered at the idea of true love and all that, her nose was still clogged with dried blood, and the bandage was making all her words nasally. She wanted nothing better than to go home and forget today, forget getting hit, or writing letters, or stealing from shrines.

"I- I hadn't gotten that far," Haji said.

She tapped a finger against her lips while she thought. "You know any jutsu outside what they teach?"

"Nope."

"Any unusual combat styles? Chakra tricks? Secret ninja magic?"

"Nope. No, and- wait." He blinked. "Ninja magic? I thought I could maybe just… do your homework for a week or something?"

"I think I'm a higher class rank than you." Izumi frowned. They'd been talking long enough that she honestly did kind of want to help him now. He was just so earnest. "How about… I help you, and you'll owe me one?"

"Deal!"

"And you owe me one regardless of if she says no or not."

Haji hesitated for only an instant before shouting "Deal!" again.

They shook hands, and the bargain was struck.

The tall boy grinned from ear to ear at her. "Thank you, Kerono-san. I really appreciate it. I- oh man, this is gonna be big. Can we do it today?"

"My face hurts, Ameno. Tomorrow. We can meet… we can eat lunch together?"

"That'd be great."


XXX


Their conversation came to a close, and Haji zoomed off with a speed that belied his size, practically floating on a cloud of gooey romantic thoughts.

Izumi waved and set off on the long walk home.

Somehow, the pain in her nose had eased a bit, and her steps felt a little bit lighter. And wasn't that lame? One conversation with someone was all it took for her to get emotionally invested, even though she couldn't have picked Haji out of a line-up before today.

It was still funny that he'd thought she'd know anything about romance. Her experiences in that department were limited to her erotica collection, and the few pulp romance novels she used to pad her bookshelf. Confessing to someone was… how did that even work? Like, she knew how it worked in books, and on tv, but that wasn't real.

Izumi stopped in the middle of a sky-bridge.

"Shit."

She had absolutely no idea how to ask someone out.

"Shiiitttt."

If Haji was going to use what she told him to ask out Mikoto, then… when Mikoto said no, it would be like both of them got shot down. This was going to be a disaster. She was going to get turned down by the first person she ever technically asked out, and wouldn't that just be a wonderful omen for future relationships.

"Oh God, I'm going to die alone."

A few passing citizens looked oddly at her as she moaned with self-loathing and slumped against the bridge railing.

She ought to just give up now and go find the Cat summoning contract.

Images of herself, dying alone and surrounded by cats, a desolate, decrepit, 60-year old spinster virgin followed her the rest of the way across town.

She paused at the shrine, glancing over to see if there was another origami token, but there wasn't.

With that note of despair, she dragged herself home and fell face first into her futon.

XXX

Morning brought with it a fresh view on things. And a gloriously purple bruise across the center of her face.

But it didn't matter- Izumi had an idea.

If Haji succeeded, it would mean that Izumi had the chops to ask out a girl. If she had the skills, it would give her the guts to actually do it. Not Mikoto, mind, there was reaching, and then there was social-insanity, but she would be able ask a girl out.

Haji had to succeed.

She rose from her futon, a phoenix in froggy-print pajamas. "I need to learn about romance."

And when you needed to learn something, you went to the experts.

XXX

"Onee-san, please, teach me about love!"

The prostitute sitting behind the counter of 'Love You Long Time' stared at her.

Izumi stayed where she was, bent double in a bow. "Please!"

"Kid, you're not old enough for that. And-" The woman squinted, taking in Izumi's faded gray kimono top and patched pants. "You probably don't have the dough for it either."

Izumi shot up, a blush lighting her cheeks like a sunset. "Not like that!" she squealed. "I meant like love-love. Not sex stuff. I need to help my classmate ask someone out."

"Oh." The whore blinked silver-rouged eyelids at her. "Why didn't you just say so? Dating is easy. Take it from me, kiddo. Easiest way to land a man is to put out. Or, make him think he's going to get some."

"Ew. And no, my classmate is a guy, asking out a girl."

There was a pause, and then the woman leaned a little closer, squinting at her again. "You're not this guy's pimp, are you?"

"He's my classmate."

"That's not a no," the woman said, smirking at her. "But that's easy too. Women like men with a lot of money. Your little boy-toy got a lotta cash?"

"No."

"Then you know where to start." A pause, as she inspected her lime-green nails. "You gonna buy something, or just keep standing there?"

Izumi left.

It was way too early in the day for the redlight to have any real traffic- she'd ditched her first class of the day to come here, and she moved easily through the rest of the aisles to the exit.

What the woman had said rankled her. It wasn't so- so cynical as all that. Sure, having money was nice. Izumi would love to have enough money that she didn't have to squeeze her entire budget into the minuscule stipend she got as a junior kunoichi and an orphan.

But there was more to it. It wasn't all just money and wealth. Love was more genuine than that.

Real love- true love, was emotional and deep and… she wasn't really sure. She'd never been in love before. Lust, sure, but never love.

She sighed. If she'd wanted a real answer, she should have asked someone else. What whores dealt in wasn't real. It was just… physical. Lust, but not love.

But that just made it worse. Because there was no one she could actually talk to about love. This was the kind of thing girls were supposed to ask their mothers.

Izumi sighed again. Being an orphan was something she was used to. Never know anything else, and it becomes the norm. But she was feeling the lack of parents fairly keenly at the moment.

XXX

On a whim, she doubled back and went to speak to the old man who ran the erotic bookstore.

His advice was about as useful as the prostitute's.

"My wife ran off with a rich eel-salesman from Iwa. Never fall in love. Just makes it easier for them to break your heart."

Okay, the redlight as a whole was probably a bad source for romance advice.

Izumi ended up leaving to scuttle down the stairs to the lower market. She revisited the food stall she'd eaten at when she was ill.

The old man running that was… oddly familiar.

"Don't fall in love, lass. My brother's wife ran off with an eel-salesman, and mine left me to join a commune of lesbians. Nothing but trouble, the lot of them. You- never grow up to lead a man on. Just find yourself a nice man with a stable business and learn to be happy with that."

XXX

Her footsteps were heavy, and her thighs burning by the time she abandoned her quest to make her way toward school. Ame had too many freaking stairs. No easy, convenient elevators, no sir. That would be too easy.

She grabbed her stuff from her apartment and locked up. It was nearly time for her second class, chakra training, and she wanted to be there. Ninjutsu was something she was pretty sure she was actually talented at. Not like stupid taijutsu…

Izumi checked her watch. And she needed to hurry if she wanted to get there. She threw herself into a run, burning chakra to wipe away fatigue from all the stairs. The rain blurred around her as she shot across the first bridge and-

A flash of white in the corner of her eye.

She skidded to a halt, sandals kicking up arcs of water as she stopped.

An origami lotus was tucked in the corner of the prayer box.

XXX

She made it to second period with seconds to spare, hurling herself into the closest open seat and nearly careening into the person sitting next to her.

The bell rang.

Sensei Mikami entered, the bells in her hair jingling softly.

"Today, we will be discussing the mechanics of chakra conversion and..."

The words drifted away into a vague buzz.

Izumi stared feverishly at the flower cradled in her lap.

Another message.

She plucked at a petal, intending to unravel this one piece by piece like she had the other, but it came apart all at once. One bit of impetus was enough to tug the entire fragile thing open.

It unfolded.

A single sheet of marked paper at the center of the blossom.

"It was a pleasant and unexpected surprise to find my letter missing, and yours in its place. An unusual way to treat a shrine, but I find myself glad you did. You are kind to feel the way you do, and to offer to sacrifice your happiness for mine, but this is my burden to bear. Suffering is not a fair trade. There is no give and take. If it were that easy to take away the pain of others, I would have eased my beloved's long ago.

These notes at the shrine were my way of consoling myself, of easing some of the tension by writing anonymously. I never expected to receive a response, but yours has done more than any ten of mine.

Please feel free to write back. It helps me to have someone to speak to, and I think you may feel much the same. It does not matter what topics you choose. Any diversion is pleasant."


Izumi had to reread it three times before the message truly sank in.

The origami woman wasn't angry at her for stealing. She was actually happy. And she wanted Izumi to keep writing, to keep snatching letters and posting her own.

She glanced down, looking for a name at the bottom. The space was marked, but not with a name. A curling, elegant drawing of a rose.

"Wow," she whispered.

Whoever this lady was, she was cool.

She looked up for a second. Mikage was sketching a diagram of the chakra cycle on the board. Nothing she hadn't seen before.

Izumi turned her attention back to the letter. After a moment, she pulled a piece of paper from her notebook and began writing.

If she'd thought her return letter, written in the pouring rain during a religious crisis, was tense, this one was like trying to crack a safe while wearing earmuffs. Every word needed to be perfect, every letter written with flawless calligraphy. It needed to be smart and adult- no not adult. Mature.

This was a grown woman she was writing to. Being a snot-nosed brat had gotten her into this situation, but she was going to use her head to get out.

She was halfway through her ninth attempt when new lines appeared on the page. She'd hardly realized what she was writing until it was fully formed, her pen resting on the final mark.

I have a friend who wants to ask a girl out. I'm not good with romance, but this is really important.

Can you tell me about love?


XXX
 
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