When I told my followers in my supposed last story that I was going to stop writing and instead focus on writing full on originals which I would like to publish one day, I didn't exactly know that I was LYING TO MYSELF.

Hello, everyone, old and new, welcome to a Touhou and TWGOK crossover. It's been a long while since I wrote FanFiction, but, after completing the draft of my first original story on Wattpad, I decided to take a break doing official stuff to write a new fanfiction. I found the Touhou Project series a year back, and I've been completely enamoured by it since, and so, after familiarising myself with it, I decided to write this.

TO NOTE: This story actually has continuity with another crossover I wrote a long time ago, with the TWGOK Universe being interwoven into the world of Senran Kagura, which, although I wrote the first Capture, I stopped writing. You DO NOT NEED TO READ THAT STORY TO GET THIS ONE. Only minimal scant references to them exist in this story, and the vast majority of the ramifications in the earlier work do not tangibly affect or linger in this story.

In any case, this introductory chapter is long as heck due to all the details needed to flesh out everything. Please allot an ample amount of time in your schedule if you wholeheartedly wish to read this.

Touhou Project is owned by ZUN. The World God only Knows is owned by Tamiki Wakaki. Please support these two if you are fans of their work. Thank you for reading this disclaimer, I hope you enjoy, favourite, follow and give an ACTUAL review by the end of it.

O - O - O - O

The Great, GAL-game Titan, Otamegane, rose from his seat. Looming over the Earth, he shifted his awesomeness, the rising steam of his burning muscles searing the air, creaking the wood and cement itself. The world could feel his mere breath, and all knew, at that exact moment of reverence, that he was happy.

He had done it. It was Finished. Utterly demolished. What is more terrifying than a Titan who has attained Enlightenment, than one worshiped by the masses and given ample faith to feast on? Yes, that is the correct answer: nothing.

He had finished Capture Number 13000.

Oh, yes, shower him with praise. Dot his horizoning skin with blown kisses- no touching. Genuflect, worship, and remember him and his name for the ages. Because, and one cannot repeat this enough, he had done it. 13000. 13000. 13000.

Unlike the last thousandth, it wasn't done at Maijima Private High School, where, under the whim of the more persistent- and, thus, annoying- teachers, he would have had to stop his session short; no, this was done at a shrine. Yes, a shrine, one of Shinto worship, of festive traditions and mythological mantras and spiritual bafflement.

Fitting for a God.

Distressing for visitors, embarrassing for foreigners, and obnoxious for girlfriends.

God saw the world look down upon his achievement, and scoffed and snorted. Yet he did no act of retaliation. What could they, those mere mortals, do to him that would topple his reign? What silly notions would they dredge up from the precipice of their feeble minds to use against him? God needed not worry, anyway- the world never did have a knack in convincing him to calm and rest, and he would not do it now.

"Why the whimpering, my would-be followers? The only thing it's accomplishing is spoiling my moment."

Truly, this God's idiosyncrasy is his pompousness in the face of non-believers.

"Keima…"

How long had it been since he had achieved his last thousandth? It had been a very long while ago. Yes, very long, right before he left for that silly venture in Tokyo, a tiring packaged deal complete with large-chested ninjas, life-threatening conspiracies and newfound truces between New Hell and… well, ninjas. No, not ninjas: Shinobi. Ugh, just by thinking the word, it left a bad vibe in his head. It was something God did not wish to reminisce, and a past he dared not put to written form, so let this scripture shift to the present.

"Keima."

This time, in this new milestone, he had conquered every path in his wake, captured the hearts of dozens of women. The third in the series, with one of the largest cast of characters, all fleshed-out, with motivations, personality, and quirks, with unique interactions he himself found challenging, but, to the surprise of his followers, fair. A true masterpiece in the making, 'Beyond the Heart of Myths 3: Unchained yet Broken' was, is and will always be. If only more knew of its existence. Oh, why was he graced with such a game, today? He found great joy in knowing that this little precious child right here was the one that christened his 13000th capture, and with finesse in coincidence, as well; the last Heroine in the story fit perfectly in that coveted slot.

Imai Mutsuki, my 13000th love, the God of Conquest thanks thee for being so patient in waiting for thee.

"KEIMA!"

Kosaka Chihiro, in the last second of his majestic brouhaha, snatched God's PFP away, saving it from a kiss to its screen. He couldn't stop the momentum, however, and thus he tripped over the steps and planted himself to nurture in the Shrine grounds.

God wasn't happy about that.

"Oi," God chided, posing in all his histrionic magnificence, "Do you not know what you've just done?"

"All I did," Chihiro paused for a moment to showcase the device on her hand, bobbing it up and down for him to see, "Was not make you look weird, in public, in front of the priest and shrine maidens."

Katsuragi Keima looked at his girlfriend with much curiosity. Public, he understood. Priests? Shrine maidens? Where? He followed her line of sight, and looked behind him with inquisitive glare. Sure enough, his eyes landed upon the tenders of the shrine, all watching with rather peeved gazes, their humble nature a poor adaptation in understanding his pride and work. Still, their relative closeness shook him, and he hurriedly jumped away from the stairs where he had rested, all whilst Chihiro had been away clicking her phone's memory and battery life away. A quick, half-hearted apology followed suit. The old priest answered with only a shaken head in reply, muttering to himself about the state of the new generation. Without much resistance, he let himself be pulled away from the shrine.

Calm, followers. There is no need to fret as our God is being pulled out of the Suwa Grand Shrine. In fact, Katsuragi had ample reason as to why he was in the Nagano Prefecture with his well-established significant other, far from home, from the dealings of his mother and blood-sister Eri, far from the Goddesses and their hosts, and from everything in general that was close to him. Chihiro had wanted the two of them to try going outside by themselves, for once. Being eighteen now gave them some semblance of liberty, and without much coercion his own mother had packed his bags and sent him on his way. It was only by chance that he had bought himself a slew of games for the holidays before his sudden departure with her. Why she chose this place, he didn't really know. He had expected her to align her choices with her own personality, as any game would have dictated, but instead he had to let her pull him to this part of Japan to see the traditional, and frankly boring sights. Not that he despised it- the lakes at least made a good backdrop for the couple, and great atmosphere for optimal PFP action- but after awhile, it became very much a drab for him. Chihiro herself dabbled with the sights, but it became rather clear to her that her boyfriend wasn't sharing the same feelings she did.

"Hey, Keima," Chihiro began, laying down her stirring spoon on top of her teacup and bringing her scarf to her lips, muffling the next batch of words coming out of her mouth, "Are you... bored?"

Keima drew his mouth flat. He was bored. The city of Suwa wasn't impressing him in the slightest. The landmarks they visited the day before had turned into long-forgotten memories to him, no matter how hard he tried to remember them and Chihiro's smiling face as she sent their pictures to her friends, and it was getting colder. Their hotel was average at best, and he and his PFP had to sleep early, in accordance to her own sleep schedule- they slept in separate beds, though she was convinced that, if they had shared, he wouldn't even consider doing anything out-of-character. News flash: he had self-control. Still, he hadn't wanted to depress her with his truths, and so kept his frustrations to himself.

"No, I'm fine."

"Then look up from your game and say it."

He looked up, and repeated his words. She sipped at her tea, in response. He, respectfully, paused his session to take a sip from his.

"How many places are going to steep their tea for too long before they learn?" he complained, chapping his lips from whatever abnormal tastes he could pick up. Chihiro snickered at his miniature rant. His perfectionist streak had really exceeded itself, didn't it?

Placing her cup down, she began to make light conversation with him. It would have been a shame if he didn't at least bring some memories back home, and besides, it had always been serene and pleasant when they were sitting like this, one on each side of the table, total opposites, yet permeating confident perfection, thematic blossoming, and narrative amazement.

"Keima?"

"Hmm?" he groaned in attention, placing his PFP on the table.

"You sure Nikaido isn't asking you for more favors?"

Ah, this conversation, again. After the spiriting-away months ago in regards to damn ninjas- that we will NOT speak of- she had become much more wary and paranoid of any future disappearances. He supposed that, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't too much of a surprise. Her kind of character would at least breed questions regarding their lover's status every so often; all he had to do was calm her down. And now, only one answer awaited her.

"Of course. What I did with them that time should warrant me 'out' of anymore of their business for forever, which just means more time playing games~" He reached for his PFP once more, but faltered. The sight of Chihiro looking dejected at him made him question himself, and, in an act of compensation, he added, with a veer of his gaze and a apologetic sigh: "And more time with you, I guess."

"Heh," scoffed Chihiro, "The others don't call you a Tsundere for nothing."

Keima inwardly grimaced. "The tsundere archetype does not describe me, at all," he retorted, "Understand that the best tsundere is one that has reason to be a tsun, in the first place. I don't have any reason to hide myself in that armor, and I don't have a dere side, so I'm not a tsundere."

"I don't know, Keima. What you just described really sounds like you're just a bad one."

"I'M NOT A TSUNDERE!!"

And so went the conversation, casual and self-aware, through the languid evening, consisting of little jabs and prods into different topics, and themselves. Was there no better indicator of their relation than their little, meaningful interactions? From the tea house, to the road back to the hotel, they spoke, sometimes with both eyeing each other, otherwise one pair looking at artificial diodes. Their minds were redolent of past exploits; Keima's about Chihiro's enjoying of Suwa, and Chihiro's about Keima's past dealings with Runaway Spirits. Those were old news, and he never liked discussing of that part of his life, anyway, but her constant questions and curious demeanor had withered away that vault of his. In the months prior, he had disclosed some of what he had to do to her, and she listened with morbid curiosity. Still, even if he had to remember such melancholic, annoying and downright fatigue-inducing moments, he had to concede that it made for strangely surreal stories to share with her.

"At least now I know when you're faking it~"

He couldn't help but give a half-impressed smirk at that remark.

Huh, now that he thought about it, when had he become so genuinely expressive? Then again, he had always been expressive with his 2D crushes. Knowing that he loved her, he supposed that aspect of his was just resurfacing for some 3D fare. This time, though, it was no fleeting puppy love. He really wanted to invest his time with her. She hoped for the same.

The door to their accommodations opened, and the two strolled into the well-lit establishment. A small place it was, modest in aesthetics, and kept traditional for extra tourism appeal. Keima's mother had a room booked for the week just for the two, completely oblivious of the supposed dangers other parents would like to stress when it came to a boy and a girl of legal age being in the same coop. He supposed she was just happy that he was starting to become much more outgoing, even if, in reality, it had only become true because of his being dragged around by a proactive girlfriend. Eri couldn't come, of course, and she fretted and sulked until they departed from that fateful train station. The others were there, too, to see them off: Tenri, Kanon, Yui, Shiori, Ayumi and Tsukiyo, and he couldn't help but cringe in the awkwardness of six of his past Capture targets and their Goddesses threatening, behind Chihiro's back, to punish him if anything stupid were to be done between them.

Well, nothing that could be described as 'stupid' had happened yet, as far as the two of them could tell.

"You have the key, right?" asked Keima as they inched closer to their door, eyeing Chihiro's pockets.

"Ah, yeah. Wait a bit." She dug into her pants, and in due time procured as requested. She unlocked the door, and let herself in. Shoes were all that were left of them outside the door. The two settled in, sitting on their futons as the television whispered its broadcast.

"Hey, Keima?" Chihiro called from the corner of the room, where she had been preparing her portable rice cooker for dinner, "Didn't Eri pack you some of her cooking before you left?"

"Oh, that…" he blenched before refocusing his efforts on his PFP. He didn't want to know what his sister had created. Eri still had an odd handling of ingredients, and that odd handling resulted in the still odd forms of cooking. Whatever was in that bento box of his, he did not ever want to find out.

When no answer came, she, logically, teased him. "What, you really want to eat my cooking, that much?"

"You want to kill me, woman!?"

"Hey, I've been practicing. 'Sides, we have some instant curry and a few vegetables, here and there. I can make something out of this- trust me."

"That's what every heroine says before their cooking socks my character in the stomach!"

"Those are just games, Keima! I, at least, can learn!"

The air hung for the moment of their pause.

Keima, out of the blue, sighed, breaking the silence. Pushing aside his PFP, he muttered, "S-sure, but I'll be supervising."

A snicker filled the air for a brief moment, before the whir of the cooker overshadowed the television's hum.

The night was fun for the couple Katsuragi Keima and Kosaka Chihiro. Fun, though, never seemed to be something associated with the Katsuragi name. Some find the drastic change of their God's nature in the past year too jarring for their liking. Others find his renewed countenance strange- alien, even, and his behavior here may, perhaps, have had a negative impact in this story of his. But is it not the natural progression of things? Do Gods not adapt to their circumstances? Can't they? Why should they continue adhering to their follower's wishes, if Gods themselves are beyond their follower's greatest imagination? Why should Katsuragi Keima, the God of Conquest, then, continue being the sullen, melancholic tragedy that was his past? Surely, he had the capacity to grow and evolve, yes?

Surely God could be human?

O - O - O - O

Keima didn't know how it slipped his consciousness, but it was here. Fatigue. No, not one that mortal beings faced. This one was for the God of Conquest alone: the weariness stemming from a lack of gaming. All the galge games he had in store for today had to be pushed aside for Chihiro's early morning jog. He couldn't guess what was going on in her mind to plan such an excursion- it wasn't even eight, and yet they were strolling through Suwa like the sun had always been merry in the sky- but he had no choice but to go; because his route-oriented brain had surfaced a dangerous outcome for when she was alone. Not only that, but she had insisted that they be as early as possible.

Chihiro, though, had plans he, rightfully, didn't know about. It was a surprise. She didn't choose Suwa for nothing, because, before their departure, she had heard of some marvelous event that would have surely spiced up their day. More specifically, his day. In the best case scenario, he would have treasured everything, with today being the high point, but seeing his attitude, she supposed the opposite, and disappointment wouldn't leave her. Heck, he was feeling the heat already, looking limp and tired, herself walking too fast for him to even take out and play his games.

She supposed that he could be taken pity upon, and a rest-stop could be in order, but there was no time. What event she was leading him to would not have it.

"W-where are you taking me-"

She quickly cut him off, "Come on, Keima! We're almost there!"

"A-almost w-where..."

The sparse buildings grew dense. The cars began to honk and stop on the road. The crowd thickened. Keima noticed it far too late, and before long they were inching their way through a vast sea of bodies. He thought he saw an unfamiliar cosplay in the distance a moment ago, but now, as they got closer to the epicenter, he found himself surrounded by hundreds of strange costumes he could not remember seeing.

What was going on?

"Ah, there it is: the entrance!" Chihiro declared in between her panting, and above the chatter and drumming of the wave.

Keima, disoriented, looked up. His eyes widened.

"W-what is this?"

His lips trembled with every word.

"W-why is this here?!"

God stepped in the wake of the Autumn Hakurei Jinja Reitaisai.

The annual convention, all for one game series, put together every year in Tokyo. And it was here, in Suwa, miles away from its original location of the Tokyo International Exhibition Center.

"Wait, wait, wait."

Much to Chihiro's further disappointment, the boy shook his head, clearly in some deep denial she herself could not understand, and began to ponder to himself. "Why would Reitaisai come here? Maybe they had some policy change and are now starting to move around, or maybe they were kicked out of Big Sight- no, what could they have done to incur that kind of treatment. The crowd betrays that hypothesis: no one would come here if they knew the place was doing some shady business other than the porn sections-"

Chihiro raised a brow at the mention.

"But the most troubling question is…"

With a sudden burst of energy, he swung an accusing finger at-

"Ow! Why'd you hit me?"

"Argh, sorry!"

He forgot how crowded this place was.

In any case, after reaffirming his stance, he pointed an interrogative finger at his significant other, and, in his far-too serious voice, questioned her. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Ara~" she cooed, a hand behind her back, "Well, I thought that, since you weren't enjoying yourself, we could come here. I read all about it: it's a convention for some really big game series, so I thought you'd be interested."

Eh!? What a compassionate, sympathetic heroine! How nice~

But wait, there was a flaw in her assumptions!

"Hey, jut because I live games, doesn't mean I like playing all of them!"

"Eh? Really?"

The crowd begun to move.

With a sigh, Keima explained, "I haven't touched this series for a long time now. It's not my kind of thing- and don't think just because it's full of girls now, I would want to play it!"

The speakers blared its scheduled announcements.

"Whoa, Keima," huffed Chihiro, crossing her arms together, "What's with you and this game, hmm?"

"What's with me and this game? What's with me and this game?!"

The gates opened, and the interior of the building shone outward, a layer of scented oil on top of the watery current.

Keima swung his hand once again, his Godly powers blasting through the crowd.

"THIS IS TOUHOU PROJECT WE'RE TALKING ABOUT!!"

"Hey, stop swinging your arms around!"

"Ugh, s-sorry!"

"Pfft…" Keima exhaled, pure annoyance in every particle exiting his lungs. Chihiro followed behind, not because he was moving along at his own pace, but because the crowd was pushing along.

"Why is it here, anyway!?"

"Well," Chihiro began to think, "Remember the stuff you did at Tokyo? At Nikaido's request?"

"Ah, yeah?"

"And remember what you had to go through at the very end?"

"Ugh, don't remind me…"

"Yeah, their usual venue was destroyed, so they had to move."

"Eh?"

Their venue was destroyed?

Tokyo International Exhibition Center was collateral to his last capture?

Ehhhhhhhhhh?

"Wait, why didn't I hear of this!?"

"Hey, stop moving so erratically, man!"

"Ah, apologies!" After the short detour, he quickly turned back to Chihiro, continuing his diatribe, "Anyways, we should go someplace else, or else-"

In his rant, he hadn't considered where he was going, and, upon the first sight of something no normal girl would ever like to see, he turned around and dragged her to the other lane. She had wanted to protest, before he remarked how she didn't want to see what was at the end of that road. One peer down, and she quickly understood.

"What's with you and this game?" inquired Chihiro, wanting to learn from her mistake- or perhaps wanting to rebuke his own claims and force him to enjoy himself. Keima didn't know where it was going, his mind so discombobulated that he could not predict what the route went, but he still answered anyway.

"Touhou Project is a dull scrolless action shooting game about some girl prodding an orb around the screen. There is no concrete story, I don't like the art, and it doesn't adhere to any galge standard that I would like, at all! How this series spawned so many sequels, I wouldn't even understa-"

"Ah-" A passerby poked in between the two, "You're talking about the first game?" The two peeled their eyes wide open at the sudden intrusion. Keima, though, recovered much faster, and began to retort whatever was expected to come out of his mouth.

"No matter! Touhou Project has failed in its first impressions! I expect nothing now, after how shallow this so-called 'first game' was!"

"Keima!" scolded his girlfriend, embarrassed by his flaring rage. The stranger, though, chuckled in response, earning him confused looks from the two.

"This year's Reitaisai's pretty special: they've made a room where all the Windows era games can be played, so you can try them out, if you want. There's also a demo of the new game coming out in the main series in the afternoon."

Then, something touched the boy's shoulder. The stranger's friendly hand had laid itself on him, and, still afraid of physical touch, Keima cringed and almost slapped it away, had it not been for his emergency self-control.

"So," the man continued, oblivious, now patting his frozen joint like a jovial friend would, "How about you stick around and check out the games, hmm? They've really changed from the first one, you know?" And with one last slap for assurance, the man left him, speechless.

Keima clicked his tongue. To be spoken to so lightly… To challenge God is to ask for infinite regret! He was going to prove him wrong, to prove to everyone in this damn building that Touhou games were mediocre, unable to evolve any further than the iterations of their most ancient pasts; a dying niche, nothing else!

"Hey, Keima, where're you going?"

Ah, it seemed that, in his moment of seething, he had preemptively begun his movement away from that spot. Being fueled by the primordial energies of the Universe could do that to people, sometimes.

"I'm gonna find this 'room', and I'm gonna play EVERY game in there! Show him the true power of the God of Conquest, I will."

"But what am I supposed to do, then?" she nagged in response.

"Anything," he answered, rather simple in his approach, "Buy some merchandise, look around the doujin circles, cosplay! But be careful!"

She sputtered in her next sentence, rather taken aback by his answer. Those kinds of things were excruciating expensive, so what was he doing suggesting them to her? Before she could answer back, though, he had begun his march forward, tearing swathes through the crowd without a care in the world. Chihiro couldn't bear to follow, since the crowd had already subsumed the gaps he had created. She sighed.

But then a light smile appeared on her face.

At least Keima had that stupid drive of his regained.

She looked to her left, then her right.

Well… now what?

O - O - O - O

Lucky~!

Keima cooed as he slipped into the fabled sanctum of Touhou Project games. He had come before most of the convention attenders even knew of this place's existence, and so the place wasn't as crowded as outside. Quickly, he sat down on one of the open PCs, and began to check where the game directory was. Ah, there, the file labeled Touhou.

At the moment he opened the file, a large selection of directories opened, surprising him. Whoa, now this… when were there so many? Ah, they started at '06' all the way to '17'? Well, then again, that challenging stranger did say that it contained all the 'Windows era games', whatever that meant, so his surprise and confusion quelled with ease.

So, without further ado, he started up the first one in his long list of games.

Ah, there's... Is this the story? Bundled in a text file? W-well, okay, this one was at least somewhat more detailed than the last Touhou game he'd ever played.

Okay, good. He supposed he could give the stranger that point. Still, it was rather bare-bones. And stories are easily filled with just a modicum of effort.

Now, let's see the game.

Pfft, what was with this… Hang on.

Keima blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't getting blurry-visioned.

This artstyle. Huh… it… it was a lot more charming than he remembered. Organic, with effort, even if the output was still rather subpar. Well, t-this was a first.

Bah, that doesn't matter! The gameplay is the most important thing!

Start.

Lunatic. Because God does not choose Easy.

Eh, two characters? Well, something promising.

Eh? Reimu had two 'bullet types'? He chose whatever was the first.

And so, Keima's journey began.

And boy, did it become a slog.

"Ah, a bullet hell game. Didn't think the game would change gameplay like that. Guess I'll have to evaluate it in those standards, now. Pretty normal stuff, but- Whoa… WHOA, WHAT'S WITH THIS GAME! THERE'S SO MANY PROJECTILES! THIS IS INSANE! AAAAAHHH!!!"

It was only after using up one continue that he finally brought out the right mindset for the game.

"Oraoraoraoraoraoraora!! GET OUTTA MY WAY, RUMIA!"

His incessant screaming had, involuntarily, attracted the attention of visiting watchers, and before long, his spot began to grow a crowd.

"Whoa, that's some pretty good plays there, dude~"

"DON'T DISTRACT ME!"

"He's not even trying to bomb, at all."

"SHUT UP!"

"Is that a good score? Does anyone know?"

"I'M FIGHTING A DAMN VAMPIRE RIGHT NOW, SO WOULD YOU PLEASE KEEP QUIET!!"

Finally, after an agonizing session, he had done it. He had finished the game, one continue down the drain, bombs never used- that would be cheating- and a full health bar. God slumped down on his seat as the audience applauded his efforts.

The applauding, though, kept itself unsung in Keima's mind. He had fun. HOW? The combination of tense gameplay, of total, utter concentration, the mechanics of grazing, the tracking, the micrododging, the predicting, the point collection, the characters, the minimal, yet entertaining story-!

"Touhou… is fun…" the husk, dejected and betrayed by the opinions of a younger self, conceded. That inward realization had illuminated some distant past in his mind. A far-off memory, of his child years, frustrated by the first game of the series. Oh, he was God, no doubt, but at one point, this young God had made a terrible mistake. If he could go back in time to clout his younger self in the head, he would honestly consider saying 'yes' to that proposal.

A hand shook him from behind, and he snapped out of his meditation.

"Don't touch me!" he screamed, much to the amusement of the crowd. The cosplayer behind him, though miffed by his outburst, nonetheless suggested to him to try the 'Extra Stage'.

Extra Stage?

The right hand went into gatling.

The left hand was unmoving on the shoot button.

"ORAORAORAORAORAORA!!!"

Micrododging at its finest.

People went wild. The crowd grew ever larger. Keima sweated waterfalls through his pores.

He had, thusly, beaten the first Extra Stage boss he had ever encountered in one try.

Muscles pulsated, mouth hung open.

"Alright…" he muttered to himself under the roar of the crowd, "Time for the next game…"

All in all, throughout the span of a handful of hours, he made one of the greatest shows of Touhou mastery in the world.

"WHY IS A GARDENER HARDER THAN A MAID!? ISN'T THE HIERARCHY OF HEROINES BROKEN WITH THIS!?"

"AHAHAHAH, YOU COULDN'T ESCAPE MY CAPTURING SKILLS TOO, YAKUMO YUKARI!!"

"What's with that sprite? Tewi actually looks spooky…"

"Ugh, Shinigami! A lazy one, at that!"

"I've had it with Goddesses! COME AT ME!"

"So you're telling me Kanako started the entire incident? What an annoying char- HOW CAN YOU LEARN HER BUST SIZE FROM AN ART STYLE LIKE THIS!? Well, then again, I guess the crudeness does make it really easy for the imagination to make fanwork. Yes, that's the advantage of this level of polish. Like my dear Yokkyun~"

"Oh, that's her bio? Koishi sounds tragic. She'd make an interesting character in a galge."

"Hmm, real-life religion's in this game, as well. I guess that adds some depth to the world, huh?"

"Is a pink cloud actually… Huh, pretty creative."

"Yuyuko, driven so low till she's become a first-stage boss. What a sad end for a heroine…"

"KOGASAAAAA!"

"Is this another… MORIYA SHRINE CONSPIRACY!! Hahahahaha! Ah, our first boss's a mermaid."

"Are you sure Mima doesn't appear anywhere, as a secret boss or something? Seriously? Pfft, and here I was thinking the setup you were talking about would've made her really compelling to capture."

He lost all his continues at Junko.

We scribes have decided not to include his excessive eruption in the scripture.

By the time he'd finished the sixteenth game of the series, he was completely exhausted. Those handful of fleeting hours were the most strenuous he had ever been. The God of Conquest had captured all Lunatic could offer (save for Touhou 15), and he rose, rather shakily, from his seat a new man, born of sheer difficulty, made man by the danmaku, transcended Godhood into that of Celestial beings. The crowd around him, themselves exhausted from being in perpetual awe at his feat, paid their last bits of energy for a round of hooting and congratulatory celebrations. Someone even gave him an Eiki hugpillow as an offering. Why someone thought that was a good gift... in any case, he politely refused it.

O - O - O - O

Chihiro, on the other hand, had enough time to check around the convention at her own leisure. There was a stand selling manju and other simple confections, so she bought some for breakfast, and saved a few for Keima, if he wanted them. Sure, he hated sweet things, but the food here was rather bland- they say it was for the more genuine 'Hakurei experience'. Whatever that was, she didn't know, and she quickly shelved the thought away to explore some more.

Her exploration net her some strange, some memorable, and some pleasant results. Wandering into the more forbidden part of Reitaisai wasn't something she had planned to do, but she found herself there, anyway, and without much hesitation she fled the scene. A part of her wondered if Keima would have enjoyed seeing the shamelessness of those booths. That part of her tamed itself when she heard the music in the air. Oh, the music, the drums and the guitars and the pianos and the triangle.

She bought a CD, shortly afterwards.

At this point, she began to think about the elaborateness of some of the cosplayers around her. In a stroke of genius, she decided to take photos of them, but, due to her newness to all this fanfare, she was stuck trying to sneak in a photo from the distance. That all stopped when someone noticed her doing so. She expected some punishment, but the cosplayer acted lenient on her, and helped her take a better photo: a selfie.

The fateful encounter, though led her down an awkward string of meetings and conversations. More cosplayers, then noteworthy members of doujin circles, and then the dressing room. One of the circles had the resources and trust to hand her an entire costume for her to try out. From wig to shoe.

What will Keima think if I wear this?

Ooh, stop it, brain.

Frantically, she slipped the outfit on. After uncovering a few layers, she found breast pads, and grew anxious. That would have been embarrassing to wear, had it not been for her new-found acquaintances tossing her the choice of leaving them be. She, not surprisingly, left them alone.

When Chihiro had finished her dressing, her acquaintances couldn't bottle their excitement; they had to drag her around the place to do photoshoots. She'd never done something so embarrassing before, and hesitated at the start. Their beckoning, though, had brought her walls down, and spirited-away she went, all around.

She, unfortunately , had to protest against entering the metaphorical 'red-light districts' of Reitaisai.

Those handful of hours whittled away, and by the end, she couldn't help herself. She was enjoying the moment. And she was doing it without even knowing a single thing about the series she was representing.

The cheering in the distance took her attention away from her last camera.

"Uh, what's that all about?" she asked her friend, pointing at the other hall nearby, where the commotion stemmed from.

"Ah, that's where they put the PCs for all the Touhou games. I heard it was pretty troublesome for them to even get enough computers to at least make a place like that viable. Looks pretty crowded, though…"

Katsuragi Keima!

She rushed forward, much to everyone's surprise. Her new friend quickly tailed her, but not for long, though, because the man of the afternoon had come out of his loving crowd.

Keima blinked the moment he saw her.

"Ah, h-hi."

"Sakuya?"

Huh? Who?

Ah, she was still wearing her costume. Oh, how embarrassing.

"I-it's me…"

"Oh, Chihiro?"

A short pause happened between the two, only broken when he leaned down to look at the hem of her maid uniform.

"Ooh, nice details."

Eh? N-nice details?

"They don't joke around in these kinds of costumes, huh? You look pretty good in it."

Her? Looking p-pretty good?

"Still, isn't it expensive?"

"Well, in truth…"

"Eh, who're you?"

This was when her new doujin circle friend chimed in. Chihiro, red with flaring veins, fidgeted in her costume as they spoke and exchanged information. Yes, they were exorbitantly priced, and, besides: when would she ever wear these other than here, as a costume lent, and for entertainment's sake.

Before they could interact any further, an announcement blared in the speakers. The new game was being shown. Without any hesitation, and much to her surprise, he and her friend clasped hands together, a physical pact of some sorts to see and try the game first thing next minute. Moments later, Chihiro flapped in the wind, pulled by Keima and co. to the newly opened venue.

Ah, how did she forget? This was a convention for a game. There was basically no chance that someone of Keima's finesse and obsession wouldn't attend.

Ouch, the fake knifes were digging into her legs!

O - O - O - O

"Ahahahahah!!"

Keima laughed into the air, before his exuberance suddenly deflated, and he was rendered pallid and small in the crowd.

"All the computers are taken…"

Chihiro, though she was foreign to the games, sighed in sympathetic dissatisfaction.

"Oh, here," she said, before handing him a little bag.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Some pastry and stuff. They aren't that sweet, so I thought you'd like some. You hadn't even eaten breakfast yet."

"Yeah, because you pulled me out of bed so early," chided Keima with a childish pout. That expression left rather quickly, though, and before she could answer, he continued with, "But I guess if you hadn't, I wouldn't have found a good spot, so… thanks."

Chihiro's eyes widened at the surprise that was her boyfriend's sudden shift. She giggled, and, with a hard pat on his poor back, declared out loud, "No prob, Otamegane!"

"Why does that nickname still persist?"

"Because you're Otamegane, of course~!"

Keima grumbled, and reached to take the first bite off his manju. It wasn't sweet. Good. Without another word, the two waited, far in the backdrop of the eyeing crowd, small things in the grand scheme of the world. Chihiro didn't mind. Keima was relieved of that fact.

"Is that-"

A voice attracted both their attentions. Keima, familiar with the expectations these games had- fleeting conversations with his fans told him so- expected it to be some returning character. Still, though, what was with this long pause? Was the guy such a big fan of said character that he literally froze in place? What character would that even be?

"It's… IT'S MIMA!"

Keima froze, and then, in an instance, he was in a dash, ripping through the sea of people with such haste that it caught the lazing Chihiro off-guard.

"Wha- Keima!?"

Even Chihiro's voice could not catch up to him. He was so fast, some didn't even see him pass by, and, not even a dozen seconds in, he had snaked his way to the front, to join the man who had so brazenly declared it in a hall full of people starved of a character they wished even in their dreams could return. His eyes laid on the screen. There was no mistaking it. That hat. The staff. Her ethereal body.

He couldn't help it; he jolted forward, pushing the player's head down, and examined her in more detail. When the urge was too strong to overcome, he began to order the scrolling of the dialogue.

"Okay, so this refers to the PC-98 era? Ooh, so she's a God now? Like she promised? Ah, okay, that's really interesting."

Then the dialogue ended, the demo with it as well.

Keima stared at the credits screen.

What? NO!?

His arm lashed out to grip the edges of the computer screen.

YOU CAN'T END NOW!!

No, that wasn't important. Calm down. What we've uncovered here is something that would transform the landscape of the Touhou universe. What's important now, as Keima turned back to look at those silent and waiting, was…

"MIMA IS BAAAAAAAAACK! PC-98 CANON DISCUSSION!!"

The room, having been given their guarantee, burst into life. Chihiro yelped at the sudden boom. The halls rumbled and quaked from the cheers. Everyone outside cocked their heads at the ruckus.

"PRAISE ZUN," screamed Keima with all his energy into the air, "OUR LORD AND SAVIOR!!"

How did he come to love a game so? He had no explanation, but he wanted more of its sequels. He wanted to experience it all, now.

Chihiro, recovered, gave a joking snicker at Keima's performance.

The chants of 'Mima, Mima' filled the air.

O - O - O - O

Katsuragi watched as the waters of the lake lap the beach. His PFP hung limply between his fingers. Chihiro, beside him, occupied herself with tracking the clouds in the sky. The sun had begun to set. The city streetlamps began to rouse from their sleep.

"Hey, Keima?" Chihiro muttered, disturbing the silence, "What was all the chanting about, just now?"

With eyes unwavering from the horizon, he began to explain, "Mima hasn't appeared in another game for a decade now. People have wanted her back for so long, so I thought it was best that we celebrated. She has a lot of potential, and I guess the creator's using it now. Smart move to try and get more interest in the game, once again."

"Oh… That's cool."

"Do you know why Reitaisai relocated here?"

Chihiro turned to Keima, baffled by the sudden question. "No. Why's that, Keima?"

"It's because one of the in-game locations is based on the Suwa Shrine we visited."

"Really?"

"Well, you know I'm not interested in that game stuff, so I dunno why you're sharing it with me."

Keima sighed and brought up his PFP to his face.

"But I guess your weirdness is what got me interested in you in the first place."

He flashed light red at the remark.

"Hey," Chihiro called for his attention.

"Yeah?"

She paused for a moment to think of a question to follow up from her previous one.

"If Gods do exist-"

"You're dating one right now."

She kneed him in retaliation.

"No, stupid- do you think they're fine with us being together?"

"T-that's a pretty specific question…"

Chihiro chuckled. Perhaps it was. Dragging her feet closer to her thighs, she rested her chin on her knees, and looked into the horizon with him. As the seconds ticked by, she muttered, softly to him, "Remember… my first confession?"

"The one where Ayumi was in your room?"

Ayumi, in her own room back at home, sneezed.

"Heh, yeah. That was... pretty awkward, huh?"

"Well, in any case, that would have been a relatively dangerous confession, anyway."

Chihiro stared at him. He stared at his PFP.

"A sick person, especially one who's woozy, would usually follow two routes: either they slept and missed it, or they heard it, but don't know what to do, because they're too weak to try anything, or because they find the situation far too advantageous for he confessor. This kind of confession either fails in everything, and creates tension in confessing again, or makes the relationship extremely awkward. A 'sick visit' event never works as an end to a heroine's route, nor does it even work properly as a penultimate event-"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" cried Chihiro, before she kicked him on the lower spine. "What I did was dumb. I should've waited, yadda-yadda."

Keima sighed, once again. His aching back crippled him. "It was a good attempt, at least."

Chihiro didn't answer back.

Quiet moments, where both parties are allowed to absorb their own share of their presences, are what made couples truly strong. Well, that was what Keima supposed, after being with Chihiro for so long. Most of his games rarely had postgame content, so the task had been, at first, daunting to him. Now, though, with the lake and the city as their backdrop, they watched in silence at the expansive horizon. The city skyline barred them from seeing any further, but, if they both stood on each other's shoulders, one could make the metaphorical case that they could see further into whatever said horizon represented. That was the least of their concerns, honestly. They just wanted the ambience of Lake Suwa to engulf them.

A breeze blew by, disturbing the water and their hair. Chihiro flinched at the sudden flash of cold. Keima shivered, but was nonetheless unfazed. Lake Suwa stirred.

"Hmm," Keima stirred momentarily in his place, before he began to rise. "We should head back."

"O-oh, yeah. It's getting pretty late." Chihiro proceeded to store the picnic blanket away, as Keima continued his gaming session. A passing glance made her remind him of his own bag to grab. He did as he was told, and peered inside for assurance.

Touhou: Anatomy of Rose Bouquets. One of the few dating sim fangames being sold in this year's Reitaisai. He supposed that he could test it out tomorrow, if time allowed it. But Chihiro would have been disturbed by all the noise and lights, especially with the two of them being in such close proximity.

"You know, you can play games at night, right?"

Keima's gaze turned mechanically towards her.

"Eh?"

"As long as you're quiet about it, it's fine."

Ah…

"Thank you, Master. Thank you," he praised with a bow. She, rightfully flustered by the display, begged him to stop.

The journey back to the hotel found itself shortened by their pace; Keima could not linger in the streets with the prizes so close to his PFP, yet so far. Chihiro followed, not far behind, humming to herself the music she had heard at the convention. Keima hadn't asked, but he was without a doubt quietly curious of her new possessions that she had acquired from the convention. Knowing her past dealings with music, it wasn't far-fetched for him to guess that those were CDs.

Yes, yes, the game series' BGM was commendable, at least. Very nice to listen to. A high 80 to low 90, in his opinion. Artwork, though, looks to have degraded throughout the years, so that was a 50. Gameplay? Very frenetic, yet, once you master it, you feel like you're at the top of the world. Still, Touhou 15 exists, and he didn't know what to think. He opted to judge it at the same level as the music. Yes, posting the verdict into his website would be the best choice… But then again, his website only documented galge games, so… He looked to his little bag of treats, and pondered over the choice. Yes, Anatomy of Rose Bouquet would serve a better fit in his website compared to the bullet hell games, but this was a fangame, not an official release. But wait, had he ever poster any fangames before? Now that he had thrown that question out, he supposed he did remember a few. A hundred and forty-three of them, to be precise, many of which he played due to the request of his dear, beloved followers.

Chihiro unlocked their room, and he once again set foot inside.

"Whoo," she hooted, stretching her exhaustion away, "Wasn't today fun?"

Keima quietly agreed. She gave a hearty smile in return.

"I'll prepare dinner, okay?"

"Sure." He brought out the game as he spoke. Ah, dear Reimu and Marisa, the focus of the cover. Behind, a selection of the most popular characters, of course; popular characters sell games, that much he knew. Still, it wouldn't have hurt to put in some of the more obscure girls, yeah?

Bah, now was not the time to dwell in trivial pet-peeves. Now was the time to open this thing and revel in the next capture!

His PFP booted, and he, chuckling almst maniacally to himself, began his Touhou journey once again.

"How about you eat first, Otamega?" suggested Chihiro, before she knocked his noggin with the rice paddle.

O - O - O - O

Parsee scenario complete~!

In just an hour, he had completed his next route. Keima, with soft fingers- a silencer only designed as convenience for the sleeping girl a bed away- pressed onward with the skipping of the credits. Once the main menu screen came up, he instinctively navigated through it, and started the next route. He had hoped to check on Chihiro, to see whether or not she was sleeping snugly without is interference, but with the VR headset being rather clunky and noisy upon taking-off, he had to put down the thought and continue with the game.

Keima found himself pleasantly surprised by the existence of that jealous youkai in the game. Frankly, she was rather low on his radar of potential capture targets that could've been included in the game, but that didn't stop him from engaging with her story. Still, her presence did not alleviate any of the problems he had borne witness to, as his overall experience wasn't all that special. There were some things he found rather lackluster with his experience throughout the game: the remixed BGM didn't sit too well with him, especially with Reimu's route; they characterized some of the 2hus rather oddly, with some blatant false personalities and the likes (some too far from even fanon depictions to be comfortable); and lastly, some of the routes were boring and, to his shock, extraordinarily plain. These were characters with immense powers, crazy quirks and immense detail in their creation: how could they not honor that level of detail with the story, dialogue and events?

His hands tapped away the night. The God of Conquest, having not partaken in any all-nighters since the first day in the prefecture, felt himself reinvigorated in the dark. If one looked at him now, he would have been to them like what Buddha looked to those who laid eyes on him in his enlightening meditation: cross-legged, sitting straight, both hands together in controller matrimony. Someone was watching him, but how could he know? His full attention was on Yukari's route, right now.

If he had broken his trance to check on his significant other, he would have found her awake, and watching, with awe, at his playing. He'd been off on his gaming session since the hotel's old clock's hand struck seven. Midnight was already approaching, and he was still going. What dedication. Chihiro couldn't help but stare with her head rested on the palm of her hand. She had to sleep, though, and she had caught herself dozing off a few times.

"Oh, you want to be my Shikigami? Pfft, what an odd request, coming from a human. Why not be Yuyuko's? She was the one who dragged you from the River."

Ah, so this route's going to have me as the manservant. A reasonable choice, barring the Gap Youkai's character. Well, that just means most of my choices have to be a bit more extreme, just to get her attention.

"First, a question. Why come to me? There must be hundreds of other Gap Youkai such as I, out there."

Eh? Isn't she the only one? Ah, it must just be her mocking me. Well, I won't back down!

1. You're the only one I want to serve, Yakumo-sama!

2. *Tell her the truth*

3. Chen's adorable; I wanna work with her.

4. I... I want to get closer to Miss Ran.

Pretty interesting choices. First one is obviously the go-to in making an impression- I won't be surprised if they kept her as someone that's not surprised by that kind of approach. Second choice is only gonna get me pity points, so it should be a pretty weak approach. The third and fourth sound like additional routes- I must experiment, later.

He chose the first option.

"Oh really? Even after the Phantasm Stage, you still like me that much?"

A stirring made Chihiro raise a brow at Keima. Something in the air had changed. Was it his sudden loss of breath, or his frozen fingers? She kept watching, now with newfound earnest.

"Why not tell me the truth? Are you that deceitful a man? And don't tell me you didn't consider wooing my own Shikigami or, God forbid, Chen in this playthrough?

"Really, why the choice, God of Conquest?"

A familiar tingle ran down Keima's spine.

That... it couldn't have been scripted.

He'd never heard dialogue like this, before, much less one that actually searched the PFP's files for its owner's name.

Could a game really do that?

No, no, calm down.

This is nothing new.

They've been characters like her, before, and I've heard one new galge game has that kind of name-searching programming integrated into the game. Maybe the creators just thought having that same quirk in Yukari helps in mirroring what's expected of her character. Impressive, but if that's the case, then I'm a bit lost.

He grumbled to himself, and gave a little huff at the end of his silent grunting session.

The writers of these kinds of characters love playing around with expectations and the fourth wall. Sure, for plebeians, it's all fun and entertaining, but for me, who's trying to finish the damn game and give it a rating, it will only slow me down. The recognizable structure of routes is completely dumped for the unexpected, confusing and unexplained. It's like driving in a straight road that immediately segways into a roller coaster roadway. If you're too slow, you'll fall from the crazy turns she throws, and if you're too fast, you may even get out of bounds with the capture and lose track of what she's even talking about. The only redeeming factor is the fact that the writers do get predictable after a while. These fourth-wall breaking characters become much easier to manage and make progress the more you interact with them.

And so, God marched on…

And fell face first into the mud.

T-these choices…!

This uncomfortable, lose-lose event!?

The flags I have to put up!

Sweat began to manifest in waves. His mind began to lose comprehension. Hands grew weak. Something felt totally wrong.

What was with this character? How was the dialogue so good at toying with him? It sounded so unorthodox for an in-game character, for an artificial construct molded into shape by the existence of other characters. It felt too… real. Too human. Too… alive.

NO!

His grip reaffirmed their strength on the controller.

I must continue! It's been so long; the ending must at least be near!

A few taps of the button, and he found himself in another strange situation.

"*Sniffle* *Sniffle*"

… This is a trick, isn't it?

"You think t-this… this is a trick, d-don't you?"

Ah, that predictive, almost like mind-reading stuff. Already gotten used to it.

"I… I've actually been feeling really lonely, ever since I left Ran and Chen back at home…"

"Oi, we're still here, Miss Yukari…"

'Oi' is right, Ran; is this a Manzai skit, or something?

"*Sigh* Why are you still trying to entertain in him the idea that you can even be wooed, Miss Yukari? He's already been playing for 5 hours, he should have the right mind to rest, already."

"Oh, Ran, don't you understand? Testing the boy of his stamina, perseverance and knowledge of love is the best course of action for me to decide whether or not he would suffice. So, God of Conquest, do you think you are so?"

Wait a minute…

This sounds like some half-assed way for the game to finish her route. 'Suffice'? In love? Of course, I suffice. I have lived for thousands of years, and created loving bonds with thirteen thousand women, now. I am not the God of Conquest for nothing, Yukari. So: am I nearly there? Will I be liberated of this annoying, self-serving script?

Man, she is exhausting to work with…

1. D-did I do well, Miss Yukari.

2. I-I wasn't trying to…

3. Of course I'd suffice, Miss Yukari! I will love you till the end of days! Please be my mate, so I can be at your every whim; kiss your feet; be your slave; worship you; do everything at your command-

Keima inwardly puked at the last option. How much degradation was the writer of that choice trying to do to the player's dignity? To his dignity.

He chose the first option.

Instead of Yukari continuing with her next text box, her Shikigami, Ran, answered.

"Mister God of Conquest, I don't think she will think favorably of your performance unless you chose the third option."

Keima poker-faced.

Second option, then.

"Um, that's the second option. Can you count? Are you roleplaying as Cirno, or… *Sigh* I'll stop."

He, without much of a choice- BECAUSE HE DIDN'T HAVE ONE- chose the third option to get over it.

"Fufufu~ A man who doesn't want their status tarnished, and yet, in the stride towards their goal, will put down that facade to do so. A very well-made choice those Devils of Hell made in sending this lost soul to me."

Eh? Is this some continuity error, or something?

"Okay, I accept your offer."

Keima's complaint stepped aside, as his eyes widened at the sudden approval. Had he done it? Oh, yes, the next scene was at a marriage between his character and Yukari! He pumped his fist in the air, triumphant. A cocky, sadistic grin stretched across his face.

He had thought it would never end, that all of her route was some sick, endless-looping joke- after what he had to go through, he wouldn't have expected it any other way. But he was done: he had captured her heart… or, at the very least, finished her route, and boy was he not replaying that.

Yukari scenario complete~!

Gensokyo scenario EX unlocked~!

Keine stopped. He drew his hands back, and, limp in body, marvelled at the text in front of him. And then he broke his vow of silence.

"Eh? There's an Extra set of routes. Wow, this is a pretty big galge game. Other than that, I guess Chen and Ran's routes don't exist. Maybe the Extra routes have them?"

Suddenly, out of the dark of the night, he heard a voice call to him.

"K-Keima!"

Chihiro. Her voice was stammering with an unnatural level of panic. Ah, did he wake her up with the noise? Well, if he did, then apologizing was the worst of it: the other side of the coin was that it gave him ample reason to just stop. Yukari's route was exhausting enough, with all the predicting and false flags and that one reset early in the game. How infuriating.

Pushing up his headset, he turned to her, and saw her, and the room, in a perpetual tilt.

Wait, tilt?

His right hand pushed upon the cushion. But it touched no cushion. No part of him laid on anything.

"Eh?"

He felt the air blow through him.

And then the bed swallowed him.

"KEIMA!?" Chihiro's scream echoed through the vast orifice, and, as he fell, her head poked from the hole's outside, her countenance shifting around in panic as the maw closed, and he was left alone to freefall.

"W-WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

And then the voices rolled in, from the dark, a hundred in number, all owned by one single person. They echoed their feminine drawl as he fell:

"How silly of you, God of Conquest. Did you really think all that was written by a human being? Did you think the program looked into your own console for your name? More importantly, did you think you and those girls were the only Gods to be wary of? How braggadocios you are…"

He stopped screaming the moment the words hit his ears. His running mind blasted into overdrive. Was it Vintage, that group of Devils hoping to raise Old Hell once again, that was entrapping him in this bottomless pit? Some other group, altogether? B-but wasn't all that in the past?! If Vintage even knew he still existed, they wouldn't just strike him an entire year later! W-well, then again, their forces were considerably weakened after his crazy shenanigans, so that could make sense. If that were the case, then where was he falling to? Some obscure part of Hell? Oh no, if that were true, then he would have nowhere to go, no one to save him, no way out.

He could only respond to that prospect in one way, and that was:

Shit, shit, SHIT!!!

He twisted and turned in the air. Where was up? Where was down. He'd lost that sense of direction far too quickly for his own good, and the disorientation was getting to him, all because of this darkness! And then, as if the pitch blackness couldn't get any worse, the abyss stared back.

His stomach churned.

Eyes. An infinite in all, as far as his own could see, opening and blinking at their individual rhythm as they stared at his falling hopelessness. The eldritch abomination that dwelled in this realm frightened him with its elusive, yet imaginary images, and he-

Wait.

Why was this so familiar to him?

Oh no.

His skin flashed the color of newly fallen, freezing snow. His breathing hitched from his lung's total skip of beat.

Her entrance sealed the deal.

Mop cap. Blonde hair. That dress. The foxy leer of those eyes. Floating in midair.

Katsuragi's mind crumbled.

"Y-Yu… Yuka-"

Then he hit water.

Keima's body shuddered from the surprisingly light impact, but the sense of fluid all around his body, and the shadow of the harbinger of misfortune looming over him, brought him into reflexive flight. He paddled his way upward from brackish waters and gasped for air. Land, he told himself, he needed to get to land! His head swerved round him, and, much to his surprise there was a patch of dirt poking out from the water-

Then his PFP plopped into the water beside him.

"MY PFP!!!!!!!!" he screamed, and dived under. In record time, he emerged again, the electronic device in his hands, and swam to safety, his savior of a hand holding his PFP high in the sky and away from the water. His legs shuddered as they felt dry land once again. The droplets clapped at his survival. He stepped forward and nearly toppled over. He cursed- the paralysis of fear was still seizing him. He didn't know where to go, but a part of him led him forward, to the closest thing to him.

A kotatsu.

It laid in wait in the middle of the white coral sand heap he stood on. Three cups of tea, all steaming, stood at the ready for him and whoever else was coming.

He looked up, and the eyeballs looked back. Then he examined his surroundings. The water, what he had fallen into, did not stretch for long, instead cresting in the shape of a bowl suspended in the air.

He groaned, and shot a glare at the arrangement, all too knowing of what was to come.

"So…" His glaring eyes scanned the surrounding. "What is this about?" His hand whipped the water out of his game console.

Sand crushed and rubbed against each other from the left side.

Someone entered into view.

Nikaido Yuri.

Or, as she'd liked to be known as: Dokuro. Dressed the same as before, in her teaching getup, a hooded jacket and hanging a skull mask off the side of her head, with her hagoromo hung round her in swags.

He, frankly, wasn't expecting that.

"EEEEEEEEEEEH!?"

Keima screamed through his fish lips as his feet instinctively slid his body backward, with his finger pointing at the rather irritated Dokuro, "W-WHY ARE YOU HERE!? ISN'T THIS SCENARIO BASICALLY BEGGING ME TO BE SPIRITED AWAY BY YAKUMO YUKARI, LIKE ALL THOSE FANFICTIONS THOSE CON ATTENDERS WERE TALKING ABOUT!? Y-YOU SHOULDN'T BE IN THIS EQUATION!! ANSWER ME, NIKAIDO!!"

Dokuro, with a sigh to start, ruffled her fringe and muttered to him, with much annoyance in her gesticulation, "When did you start dreading to see me, huh? I was expecting you to start kissing my shoes, or something."

A giggle took their attention aside. Keima turned cold.

The main player of the game entered the scene.

"Ah," the anomalous presence exhaled with pleasure, taking each dainty step with a stride befitting kings and queens. Air did not just move aside for her. Her very existence, a lacuna in the consciousness of mortal beings, seemed to erase the air by passing through. No footsteps left themselves to be seen on the sand.

"I didn't think you two were this close, Dokuro."

Keima watched, in sheer fearful wariness, as one side of the kotatsu's blanket rose to accommodate the visiting thighs. How could it be possible? Heaven and Hell, ninja, and now this?

"Come, come."

Yakumo Yukari, the Gap Youkai, Phantasm Stage Boss of Perfect Cherry Blossom, game character revealed to be more real than world peace, and original proposer of the Hakurei Border, beckoned.

"I've seen how you act in games. Now to see you act your age and mortal status, 'God of Conquest'~"

O - O - O - O

It took him a while, but it had dawned in him that all this was a bit too ridiculous for him to even fully grasp. Him, with both Dokuro and Yukari on both sides- a Devil, perfectly believable, at this point, but a woman originally portrayed as a game character? No, no, something must be wrong, here. He must be dreaming, that's it. Even those Shinobi in Asakura were at least bearable. This? This couldn't be anything more than some sort of delusion of his, a drunk hallucination stemming from his successful capture of the Gap Youkai herself.

But he couldn't think further into that topic, for Yukari's eyes laid upon him now. The two had been sipping at the tea all the while, keeping the silence dragging and painful, but now something stirred. He grimaced. He didn't want anything stirring; he just wanted to wake up.

"Katsuragi."

He hadn't even given her his- Oh, nevermind, that was the least of his worries.

The Gap Youkai, with her dainty hands, moved his cup of tea closer to him. She smiled, and said in offering, "Please, you must try this. It is superb. It will also calm your nerves- I promise you."

"Uh, y-yeah, thank you," he replied, unable to refuse, and hurriedly drank the drink down. To his surprise, it was good. Hmm, what do you know? It was… actually as she said. Good temperature, proper steeping time, familiar taste, all in this little cup. A nice tinge of the green tea's origins flooded him, and the waves were good at relaxing the tension in his muscles. And then he chapped his lips-

"Ah, Katsuragi," Yukari spoke again to the quiet, shuddering and shadowed boy, "Your mother wanted you to know that she's managing the store fine. Eri also misses you a lot."

Familiar taste, all in this little cup.

Her words.

And then it all came to him.

Keima's throat near garroted itself. He twisted the cup so he could see what was emblazoned on it.

Café Grandpa.

The Yakumo Yukari knew where he lived.

The great Youkai chuckled at the boy's unresponsiveness, clearly enjoying the torturous implications she had planted in his mind. Turning her attention to Dokuro, she began to speak, "Now, about our deal. I believe he is adequate for the task at hand. Your recommendation of him was… how should I say: a well-thought choice."

"W-wait," Keima stammered, having just now broken the sheer horror he had been engulfed with moments ago, "W-what task? Dokuro, what's she-"

His lips slammed shut the moment Yukari's hand laid upon his. His palm felt the heat of the cup, but that seemed like nothing to her frigid touch.

"I've read about your… past achievements, Katsuragi."

P-past achievements? What was she-?

"And… what is this about using love? Ohohoho, you are a splendid specimen in the Runaway Spirit Squad. Or, were. Until now, and again, might I add?"

Love? Runaway Spirit Squad? Were- until now- again?

"A very well-made choice those Devils of New Hell made in sending this lost soul to me."

Two pairs of eyes watched as Keima ceased to function. Patient as they were, they waited. Dokuro grimaced, and Yukari grew ever more entertained in that period of time. And then, as if by some stroke of genius timing, Keima shot up from his seat, and rushed to drown himself in the water.

He was not taking anymore Capture targets. Katsuragi Keima had thrown that past of his aside, and only wished to look into the future between him and his significant other. No more kissy-kissy goo-goo, no more leaving Chihiro aside, no more supernatural shenanigans, NO MORE OF ANY OF THAT. HE'D ALREADY RISKED HIS LIFE FOR THE CAPTURE TARGETS, THE GODDESSES, NEW HELL, AND, MORE RECENTLY, DAMN SHINOBI! HE WASN'T DOING IT WITH SOME MAKE-BELIEF WORLD THAT SHOULDN'T EXIST!!

And so, with his mind in resolute, he swan-dived into the water. He hoped his PFP would go to Heaven with him.

And then he knocked over the tea cups.

"EH!? HUH!?" cried the dazed boy.

Why did he land on the table!?

Where was the-?!

Yukari's pointing finger and lustrous grin hinted enough for him to freeze in terror. He rolled his body and faced upward, and, sure enough, a gap hovered over him.

There was no way for him to escape. No allies were anywhere near that were strong enough to rip him out of this prison. Nothing could stop her from finalizing the deal of death.

Keima broke. His body slumped onto the wooden surface.

Dokuro, finding the circumstances preposterous, loudly cleared her throat in an attempt to reset the discussion. "Miss Yakumo," she began, donning a firm expression on her face, "It would be wise for you not to toy around with essentially your best bet in cleansing Gensokyo of Runaway Spirits."

Yukari chuckled in response. With one hand and one pull, she took Keima off the table and on to the ground. One glance later, and she said to the limp, hopeless carcass on the ground, "You stave your tongue, for a moment, okay? This is a discussion between grownups."

And there, on sacred ground, Keima lain as the two continued their discussions. No, the God of Conquest was not patiently listening and clandestinely making the best arguments against his re-entrance into capturing Runaway Spirits. He had, essentially, stopped working, and his brain was trying to put back the pieces.

Reasons and arguments, debates and discussions, all these forms of discourse thrown themselves around his psyche. Nothing added up, or made any remote amount of sense to him. Why would Dokuro think to torment him even further? How did an entire fictional world actually exist? How were the Runaway Spirits still moving around, much less entering said fictional world? The brain of a Master of tolerance could not even begin to understand the implications. And then thoughts of the technicalities began pouring in: who was his buddy? Who were his targets? How was anything going to work, this time?

Would he have to woo real-life women again? After he'd promised Chihiro not to? His face crumpled into melancholic regret.

Is God dead?

NO!

I have to get out of this deal! I've had it with these damn Capture Targets in my damn life! COME, BODY, I NEED YOU TO FUNCTION AND PROTECT MY LIVELIHOOD!

"WAIT. A. MINUUUUUUUTTTTTEEEEEEE!!!!!"

With all his might, he forced himself up from his lifeless burial, so much energy used in his movement that he had to use his two hands to stop his head from banging the table. No one spoke. Good; it meant that he had successfully stalled the discussions and given him the opportunity to speak.

"Dokuro!" he began, shooting a look at her, much to her chagrin, "I thought your last 'request' was your actual last. You guaranteed it!"

"Well, it was supposed to, but you have to understand Miss Yakumo's standing with those in New Hell-"

"AND YOU, YAKUMO YUKARI!" He now shifted focus to her, this time with a dictatorial finger at the ready.

"Yes?" she replied, a nonchalant airiness in her voice.

"You're not supposed to be real."

"In a world where Devils, Spirits, Gods and Goddesses and the concept of Hell and Heaven are real, anything fits."

"But you first appeared in a game." His voice was low, growling, exasperated from the seething anger bottled within.

"Yes, and in some alternative universe, those Shinobi star in a game, and don't exist. Your point?"

"My point is that I don't want anything to do with this!"

The God of Conquest was pretty desperate.

"Wait, Keima-" Dokuro reached out. He answered her plea by falling back-first to the ground, and flailing like a child.

Touché.

"I DON'T WANNA, I DON'T WANNA, I DON'T WANNA DO THIS AGAIN! YOU PROMISED ME, DOKURO! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

In the circumstance where nothing works, acting like a baby can make you look less reliable and harder to work with, thus invalidating any requests thrown at you.

- Katsuragi Keima, 201X

Dokuro, as expected, panicked. Her love for her onee-chan clouded her judgement, and she couldn't help but fret at the lost affection. "W-wait, I can explain, Keima! P-please stop acting like that in front of Miss Yakumo!"

Yakumo Yukari, on the other hand, mused at the display.

"Katsuragi, are you trying to prove to me how low you will go in completing a task? Because that is exactly what I want out of my employee."

In an instance, Keima snapped back into normalcy. With much prim and properness, he sat back up, and cleared his throat.

"I wish to be excluded from these terms," he stated, matter-of-factly, with a bluntness to crater mountains.

"Wish denied," answered Yukari along with her morbid smirk.

"I wish to repeal that repeal of my wish."

"What do I have to do to convince you to come?"

"Nothing. I don't want to go."

"Keima," Dokuro snapped, "There is no debate, when it comes to Miss Yakumo. Once she sets her eyes on you-"

"Quell the thought, Dokuro," the snickering Youkai interjected, much to her surprise, "He already understands that much. Right, Katsuragi Keima?"

One didn't need to properly examine Keima to know that he was sweating. She was right, and his stomach gurgled with rage at the notion. But he had to stand strong in the face of this unmovable wall.

For if God is caught in the impasse of the unstoppable and the Void, he would have to change all that by his own sheer willpower.

"Dokuro," he restarted his momentum, first focusing on his old acquaintance, "Why did you recommend me? You should know, as the character with specs like yours, that I… am in no mood to chase after Runaway Spirits, anymore!"

"We had no choice," she muttered, head hung low from some bout of shame, "Miss Yakumo rummaged through all our documents without our knowledge, and she found you. Your record was… how should I say it? 'Treasured', by the Eastern Branch of New Hell, so it's no surprise that she took an interest to you. I tried to stop her, but the superiors were having none of it."

"As expected of them."

Once again, the foxy Youkai, now casually resting her head on her hands, interjected. "It's not fun judging the souls of someone who's lived hundreds of years. Think of all the paperwork, and those feathers you have to put on that scale."

"We promise you, Keima, we'll prepare a sizeable reward for you if you accept! A-and we'll inform Kosaka and keep everyone safe whilst you're at Gensokyo!"

Keima wanted to speak up, but, before he could, Yukari raised her sly voice.

"A reward? I never promised anything of the sort. You will be sorely mistaken if you think that you'll be rewarded, my shikigami~"

"Miss Yakumo, please, he's been through a lot. We should at least compensate for his lost time. And no, that game does not qualify him as your shikigami."

"What? And let loose his lecherous mind with the idea that his lust is to be rewarded? As what that Darkness youkai would say, 'Is that so~'?"

"I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!!"

Both women snapped their gazes at the source of the outburst. Dokuro stared bemused at him. Yukari giggled.

This was getting nowhere, Keima thought as much. What else could he do to get himself out of here? Dokuro wasn't helping, much to his disappointment, and Yukari was impenetrable. He was just running around in circles, grasping at straws, never finding even the first nail to push out from within his coffin. The frustration was not doing his body any good. None whatsoever.

Unfortunately for him, time was up. The clock he didn't even know existed ticked down to zero.

"Ah," Yukari suddenly exclaimed, much to the surprise of the two. When Keima turned to examine what had caused such a noise to exit from her mouth, he noticed a tiny gap right next to one of her ears.

Someone spoke to her.

What did she hear?

Who said what?!

What was it?!

"It seems our time is up." She said this while she stood up. "Your Shinigami is christened, and ready to set sail~"

"Wait, what!?" yelled Keima as he himself shot up from his seat, "No, no, no, we're not done here, Yukari!"

"Hmm?"

Keima froze at the sight of her eyes beneath her fringe coming to look at him.

"I am done. So, the meeting is adjourned."

Got to stay calm and firm. "No, it isn't-!"

As he cried his last defense, Yukari opened two gaps, one above the other, both flattened horizontally. One word in his protest, and she positioned one hand above one, and the other hand below the other. Second word in, and she plunged both into their respective gaps.

Third word in, and the Gap that enveloped their horizon, sky and earth, opened like a chest. The city lights pierced through the liberated space.

Keima felt his heart nearly leap out of his stomach. Where… Where was this!? It couldn't be-!

Yukari's two hands held two empty rice bowls.

"We're in the middle of Lake Suwa, Katsuragi."

Keima turned to cast a grave, yet surrendering gaze.

Dokuro gulped.

He wanted so badly to collapse, right now. To die. To rid himself of this curse.

And Yakumo Yukari was ready to deliver.

"They're other ways of entering Gensokyo, you know?"

Then, without restraint, she stepped forward, moving with one step what a stride took to close the distance between her and the boy, and clasped one hand round his neck. He couldn't react quick enough, and she promptly held him in the air.

Dokuro couldn't even speak a word in protest.

"Enter through the barrier, through my gaps, through some other special force within you, all that dribble. Problem is that wouldn't work, now, and you can't meet your Shinigami…

"So you…"

She stepped closer to the water's edge. The moonlight gleamed on its metallic surface. Keima tugged, twisted and turned. He kicked and smacked and punched, but that did nothing but dirty her dress. Dokuro couldn't even fight back in protest.

"No, no, NOOOOO!!"

"Will go by Sanzu."

Keima's head plunged into brackish water.

The water geysered and toiled with his struggle, but her hand did not move. The unmovable object had begun to prove its point, with Dokuro as her humble guarantor.

Darkness encroaching.

Consciousness slipping.

Lungs dying.

The world of the present seemed so far, now.

His fingers touched water.

Then his waist.

Then everything was subsumed.

Keima didn't want to die.

Keima didn't want to die.

I DON'T WANT TO DIE!

But, fortunately for him, the next thing he saw- felt, smelled, heard, tasted- was dry land, tuffs of grass, a pleasant stream, trees, the smell of earth, the taste of fresh air, and his feet holding the full weight of his upright body.

What?

Keima blinked.

Was that all a sick dream?

Then he looked down, and realized something very off. When did he start wearing his yukata? The one he used during Minami's capture? He hadn't seen the thing, nor even thought to don it in months, now.

Why was he wearing…? Why couldn't he see the horizon, nor the sky? Why was it so foggy?

Then he looked to his left, and saw the boat next to the dock, the sleeping girl waiting at the rock, and the scythe.

Heart sank faster than iron on the water's surface.

That scythe sealed the deal.

O - O - O - O

New Hell's Far East branch was a flashy place in the realm of the Underworld, only second to its Western counterparts. With long, winding hallways, massive auditoriums, and a slew of shops for the Devil's pleasure, it was no surprise that the place was a hotspot for the newer generation of hip and upcoming stars of Hell's many divisions. The luxuries, the fashion, the newly redesigned scythes for the added flair and finesse; all that came together to create the new standard of essentials in a Devil's everyday occupation.

And Onozuka Komachi didn't want anything to do with.

Today wasn't a good day for the ferryman of Gensokyo's branch of the Sanzu River. Being one of the few ferrymen left in New Hell's catalogue of dying Devil occupations hadn't helped in her movements, at all. Not only was it difficult for her to even drag her boat up from the surface to those Roads of Lights the New Hell denizens preferred to use- all because those higher-up assholes have completely forgotten about the class known as the ferrymen- the gawking from all the other Devils impeded all that she wanted to do. Was she that old-fashioned? All this wasn't even a few centuries ago, come on! Some were even talking behind her back, chiding her style and the curves of her scythe. She shrugged them off: these young weanlings wouldn't even stand a chance against her.

She was there when Old Hell rose to war. She was the few Old Devils willing to cut off their horns in defiance, all to prove to the new superiors their loyalty. And lastly, she was the one who kept that branch of the Sanzu and Higan clean from the corruption of the Almage-Machina war, a feat that contributed in the survival of the ferrymen as an occupation in and of itself.

In all honesty, now that she thought of her past achievements, she really had good reasons for sleeping on the job. She was a damn war veteran! She needed her beauty sleep!

Anyways, back on topic, she hadn't expected herself to be called back into the Far East Branch's headquarters so quickly. It had been but a passing day, like any from before, with her ferrying the dead of Gensokyo through the Sanzu river; same as always, right? But suddenly, before she could snooze and wait for some other thousand-year living youkai to die, her Enma called for her. Headquarters had asked for her presence, and she was not delighted to please. That old gas mask that World War 2 veteran gave her upon his final boating trip wasn't working on the corruption spread around Hell's surface, and carrying her boat was, as stated before, a chore she hadn't wanted to experience since many years ago, when she beached the thing inside the offices of the Ministry of Right and Wrong- of all places- due to a malfunction of her powers over distance…

Oh wait, she could've used those powers during her ascending… Hmm, she really must be getting old, huh?

In any case, during her stroll towards… wherever, she didn't know, it was some fancy name or something like that, she had gotten herself lost. Annoying, considering the architecture of the Ministry of Right and Wrong would've easily fixed everything if it was just stapled on the mess that was this floating building.

She shook the useless thoughts away, and began to ponder. What should she do, in a time like this? Lost, in a building she hadn't visited since its first opening. Perhaps she could call upon one of the Devils to give her directions. Sure, she thought; just because she didn't understand their aesthetics, didn't mean that they weren't useful.

"Hey, you."

No, that wasn't her calling anyone. It was someone calling her, instead. Komachi turned to the voice.

"Yeah, you."

Three Devils greeted her curious sight. One looked up and down her body, the other gave some reason-less pout, and the one in the middle, tanned and rivaling her in buxom, gave a confident smirk at the sight of her front. All three had a pair of horns, signature features of Old Hell Devils.

And all three didn't recognize her.

"What's with the getup, huh?" the middle one critiqued, "I didn't think there was a Devil out there who thought looking like some geisha was still considered trendy."

Komachi exhaled, rather unimpressed. "I dress for the job, not to titillate," she remarked, a snarky tone in her voice, "Besides, it's comfy enough for dozing off."

"Oi, don't talk to Nora like that!" one of 'Nora's' friends snapped at her, "Nora's a district chief, so how about you listen to her advice and wear something better than that schlock!"

"Yeah, yeah, you tell her, Camry. And besides, what's with that scythe you have?"

Nora promptly began to look at her weapon as the other girl continued.

"Did you fail your class and bribed your way to a pass, or something? It looks almost broken!"

Komachi's teeth clenched. Was she that arrogant when she was younger? And that high-pitched? Bah, she'd rather just leave and find her own way to wherever those superiors wanted to meet her. It'd be a lot less effort than communicating with them! Turning her back on them, she-

"They don't give scythes like those away, anymore."

Camry and Cresta stopped in their tracks. Both turned to their friend. What did she just imply, there?

Komachi halted and, in some display of her inward glee, gave a halfway glance to the supposed de-facto leader. "Yeah, they don't."

Both Nora's henchmen, Camry and Cresta, looked in confusion at their leader. They couldn't understand the stirring in her widening eyes, and broken facade of cockiness, nor was the increasingly confused face she was pulling registering with both of them. A shake of her head, though, dispelled the look Nora had, and with a firm and commanding hand, she ordered her, "Give me the scythe. I need to identify its legitimacy, right now."

Camry and Cresta descended into even more ape-ish befuddlement, exchanging between themselves as to what the meaning of her words were.

"Sure."

Much to their surprise, Komachi offered the weapon to her, but, before she could close the bridge between the handle and her palm, she added, with much self-congratulatory snide, one last bit to her sentence:

"Pretty ironic for some Old Hell Devil…"

Hesitation. The Devil in question looked up to her pensioned face.

"To want to touch the scythe of Onozuka, huh?"

Nora's hand- no, her entire body, shot back.

"W-what?" The gurgled seizure of her voice sputtered,"O-Onozuka?"

"N-Nora? What's wrong?!"

Suddenly, the Devil pushed her friends aside, and, stepping forward, she bowed almost ninety-degrees towards her. Then she rose, and bowed again, and again, and again, all the while begging for forgiveness. Camry and Cresta blew their own minds with the indulgence of the sight.

"I'M SORRY, LADY ONOZUKA! I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN IT WAS YOU! I'M SORRY!" pleaded Nora, in front of her two friends.

Komachi chuckled at the display, and knocked the end of her scythe handle on the marble floor three times, a signal to her superiority. Well, that at least pleased the shinigami. She never did have an underling to go off on, unlike her Enma and her.

"Ah, don't worry 'bout that," she dismissed in care-free fashion, having realized that she felt rather uncomfortable in the presence of such easily-subjugated underlings, "My horns are off, so it's to be expected."

Camry and Cresta watched with paralyzing awe.

"Y-yes, Madam Onozuka-"

"Hey, I'm not that old."

"M-Miss Onozuka-"

"Komachi's fine, y'know?"

"K-Koma-"

"Okay, okay, you don't have to say my name so many times- you're making me blush! So, Nora, was it?"

"Yes?" muttered Nora in a sheepish tone, trembling against the blossoming history of the ferryman.

"Do you know where the big bosses' offices are? I gotta meet them, and fast."

Nora was happy to help, and, Komachi suspected, impress. Without so much as a goodbye, she left her friends alone and led her around the discombobulating layout of the location. During the trip, the tanned Old Hell Devil began having her own one-sided conversation with her, calling her some war hero, of sorts, praising her of her accomplishments and making envious remarks to her status and said accomplishments. Komachi hadn't wanted any of it, to be honest, but, then again, she supposed letting some junior gush about whatever was a better alternative than making her bottle them up. And, of course, being praised and looked up upon was enjoyable, and she couldn't help but poke her for more of the stuff.

Camry and Cresta couldn't catch up.

Still, some of the things this Nora spoke of flew way past her head. What was this about districts and the likes? Vintage? She hadn't heard that name in years, especially after some fool offered her a place in it. The Old Hell worshipping and extremist mumbo-jumbo that messenger spouted made him an easy candidate for the Sanzu to consume. Even more interesting to her was the weird cloudy fabric round all the Devils, now. What was that? She dared not ask, from fear of her status being soiled by her ineptitude with New Hell's trends.

Before long, they arrived outside one of the larger atriums for meeting.

"It's a good thing I know the place, yeah?" said Nora as she looked to see whether or not the door was recognizable to her memory, "The chiefs should be waiting inside; besides, it's where they usually meet up."

"Well, well, thank you Nora," answered Komachi. In the midst of the tanned girl's outspoken expression of gratitude, one she lent a deaf ear to, she opened the door.

She walked in.

The door closed, Nora's farewell cut short by it.

Komachi scoffed at the adoration, but for now she had to focus on other things than the admiring youth. With her face molded into that of grave trepidations, she looked up.

Ten screens loomed over her.

A quake shook the room. The roof, the walls and the floor- all the illusions that made homely this abode- faded away. She felt gravity take hold, and promptly repelled its advances with her ability to fly.

And, there, she levitated, in the midst of Hell's Chair Devils. A little thing, amidst mirror-like tablets the size of grand skyscrapers. She, as expected, was unfazed by the display, opting to instead sling her scythe on her shoulder due to the tiredness of her arm.

Four, though, never turned on. The other six burst into life the moment she noticed the cracks in their etchings.

ONOZUKA KOMACHI, ARE YOU PRESENT?

"What? You guys gone blind, or something?"

A silence drew out. And then, when it seemed like no one was actually there, one of the Chair Devils spoke up.

HEY, KOMACHI~ IT'S BEEN SO LONG, HASN'T IT?

"Wait, Aldefar Illich Leventor!? Whoa, when did you get promoted!?"

UH, PLEASE-

OH, JUST TWENTY YEARS AGO, GIVE OR TAKE! HOW'S LIFE FERRYING EVERYONE TO THE ENMA, HMM?

"It's all good, and-"

PLEASE, CAN WE NOT-

OOH, DO YOU STILL TAKE THOSE NAPS OF YOURS~?

"Yup, but my boss doesn't like it, as always."

AHAHAHA! STILL THE STUCK-UP PRINCESS, HUH?

Someone slammed their table.

SHUT UUUUUUUP!!!!!!

"Hey, it's pretty rude for you to interfere with two old friends catching up."

YEAH, GOROGORO, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?

W-WAIT, WHAT?

AND TO THINK YOU'RE THE CONSULTANT TO THE ASSOCIATIONS FOR TEACHING HISTORY TO LITTLE DEVILS.

"What, really? Didn't think you had the stuff, last time I saw you."

Someone else cleared their throats.

MISS ONOZUKA, IF YOU MAY, LET US GET THE DISCUSSION ON THE ROAD.

Komachi sighed, and gave a little scratch of the back of her head before she conceded with a 'yeah'.

TELL ME, MISS ONOZUKA, ARE YOU WILLING TO PUT YOUR LIFE ON THE LINE TO ASSIST IN THE CONTINUED EXISTENCE OF GENSOKYO, THE WORLD WE OF HELL, THEY OF HEAVEN, THEM OF HUMANITY, AND SHE OF THE GAP, HAVE CREATED?

"Well, seeing as how you guys plopped the barrier perfectly on my spot of the Sanzu River, it doesn't look like I have a choice."

THEN LET'S DUMP AN EXPOSITION BOMB ON YOU, KOMACHI~

A HANDFUL OF RUNAWAY SPIRITS HAVE ENTERED THE HAKUREI BARRIER, AND HAVE FOUND FRESH VICTIMS TO INHABIT.

Runaway Spirits? That old news? Hadn't they wrangled those up, yet? Weren't they the ones living inside the hearts of girls or something to that level of sappiness? What were the ways of getting them out again? Helping them with their problem, right? Oh, she remembered someone saying love, like that was a good choice. She continued to listen, if only to learn more of this dissonance between what she knew and what was actually happening.

"And you're telling me this… why?"

WE WERE CONTACTED BY YAKUMO YUKARI OF THE ISSUE, AND BOTH PARTIES BELIEVE THE HAKUREI SHRINE MAIDEN IS NOT UP TO THE STRENUOUS TASK IN RIDDING THE VICTIMS OF THEIR SPIRITS. THUSLY, SHE WISHES FOR US TO SEND IN THE BEST WE HAVE INTO GENSOKYO. YOU WILL BE TEMPORARILY TRANSFERRED INTO THE RUNAWAY SPIRIT SQUAD, AND WILL SUPPORT THIS MEMBER IN THEIR ENDEAVORS TO RID GENSOKYO OF ITS LOOSE SOULS.

"Wait, then who's ferrying the-"

I WILL BE DOING THAT. I DO HAVE SOME EXPERIENCE IN FERRYING THE DEAD- CHECK MY RESUME.

DEVILS DON'T HAVE RESUMES, MOTERNASTER.

JUST A FIGURE OF SPEECH. BESIDES, I'VE DEALT WITH HER ENMA, BEFORE. ME AND HER GO WAAAAAY BACK.

"Well, well…" she groaned in bemusement. "Sure… I guess- 'orders from the higher-ups', an' all. So when am I expectin' them?"

VERY SHORTLY. YAKUMO DOES NOT LIKE TO WAIT.

YOU WILL BE GIVEN THE STANDARD RUNAWAY SPIRIT SENSOR, THE HAGOROMO, AND A CASE OF DETENTION BOTTLES.

"Ah, no need. I don't wanna use 'em-

WE INSIST, ONOZUKA.

"Okay, okay, sheesh."

IF WE HAVE PREDICTED WELL, THEY WILL BE ON YOUR BOAT-

"Ah, the Titanic."

E-ER, YES, THE 'TITANIC', AS YOU CALL IT. THE PROVISIONS WILL BE WAITING FOR YOU THERE.

"So which part of the border are they gonna cross?"

AH, THAT… UH, ANYONE WILLING TO TELL HER?

I WILL-

WE DECIDED ON LETTING HIM ENTER FROM ANOTHER ALTERNATIVE SOURCE.

"Eh? There's an alternative? Really?"

DUE TO THE-

WEAKENED BORDER FROM THE RUNAWAY SPIRITS BARGING IN, YAKUMO CONVINCED US TO DO THINGS A LITTLE… DIFFERENTLY.

OI, YOU WANNA TAKE THIS OUTSIDE, HUH?

HUSH, NOW, YOU UNCOUTH SON OF A FIEND.

OH, I'LL SHOW YOU THE SON OF A FIEND!

"Okay, okay! Look, that makes sense. But what other alternative is there?"

Throats cleared round the room.

THE SANZU RIVER.

Komachi's nonchalant casualness rocketed into utter disbelief.

"W-wait, the…"

THE SANZU RIVER, THOUGH MOST OF IT WE CANNOT CROSS DUE TO THE CORRUPTION, STILL CONNECTS TO ALL AREAS AROUND THE WORLD. BY FORCING HIM INTO ONE OF THE BRANCHES-

"F-forcing-?!"

WE REALIZED THAT A FERRYMAN COULD TRANSPORT HIM INTO GENSOKYO, BYPASSING THE BARRIER ALTOGETHER-

"DO YOU GUYS EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU JUST DID!?"

WE MADE A COMPROMISE, ONOZUKA KOMACHI.

IF YAKUMO IS TELLING THE TRUTH, THEN SHE HAS A RELATIVELY SAFE WAY OF TRANSPORTING HIM INTO THE SANZU RIVER.

THE MOMENT WE FINISH, AND YOU EXIT THAT DOOR, IS THE MOMENT THE SQUAD MEMBER ENTERS THE SANZU'S BANKS, AND-

That was all Komachi needed for her to burst through the gates in a mad dash.

AAAAAND THERE SHE GOES~

There was no time for her to think.

To use the Sanzu as a method to enter Gensokyo was out of the question. It was never even supposed to be a question in the first place! There was no way that Yakumo could get someone into the Sanzu, when the only place anyone could enter it without the first criteria- that being death- being fulfilled, was smack bang in Gensokyo, itself.

She rushed past a surprised Nora, stumbled down the stairs, and, when the sweat of her skin was unable to even cling on to said skin, she dove into the docks, shaking the porous excrement off, and entered her boat. Devils cried and yelped at the wind displacing behind her.

She rigged her boat, and, ignoring the newly placed possessions beneath the middle plank, stood proudly on its front- well, if 'proudly' meant disheveled, wind-tousled hair and a nearly-undone kimono.

"Oh, fuck 'em for not telling me this sooner." The rivers of light crested round her as she tore forward.

In those few minutes, Hell had a shooting star pierce through its seams.

O - O - O - O

Takahara Ayumi found herself navigating through the nightly, slumbering streets of Maijima city, running in her signature mad dash through the dark, casting shadows that existed thanks to the street lamps for only a second at a time. She couldn't stop moving, couldn't cease the rush pivoting her legs. The drive within her would not slow her down, and that drive came in the form of Mercury's copious demands.

She didn't know why her Goddess had woken her up so suddenly, but said immortal being demanded her to move. Where? She didn't know, for her entire body was now under the command of someone she thought to be lethargic and incapable of strenuous exercise. She just hoped no one saw her at night, looking like she was running from some unseen molester, or something likened to that. And that no one noticed the holes she was making with her studded shoes she carelessly strapped on her feet in the ensuing hurry.

The mystery of it all, though, did not grant her any modicum of assurance. Mercury hadn't shown such energy before, and, knowing her priorities, she hoped nothing had happened to the boy who had to woo her twice: Katsuragi Keima. But the boy was miles away, so perhaps her worries were but false alarms. She hoped that to be the case.

Mercury, though, disagreed with her hopeful state of mind.

"Oh, Ayumi," the Goddess muttered as her silhouette emerged from a window she passed by, "Still thinking about the Keima boy, hmm?"

"H-hey," she retorted, beginning to pant, "I'm at least trying to… get over him!"

"Ah, you don't need to worry about that, anymore." The Goddess yawned at the end.

"What does tha-that mean!?

"Oh, you'll learn when you get there."

She hated it when she teased her, like that. No matter, she was feeling her legs start to slow down, anyway.

Her body stopped running outside of Tenri's house. Someone was already opening the gate, then, and, in the darkness, Ayumi couldn't make out the person.

"W-who's there?" she asked, wary, readying her fight-flight reflexes. One good stomp with these shoes would do the trick-

A soft, subdued voice answered back. "A-Ayumi!?" She recognized it almost immediately.

"Shiori? Y-your Goddess got called, too?"

There was no audible answer, but she could see from the darkness her head tilting down in a hesitating nod.

The two wordlessly entered, and, as they approached the front door, it opened on its own, much to their surprise. A seconds hesitation later, and a hand poked out from behind the door.

"Come, come, let yourselves in," a suave, yet subtly feminine voice, entered their ears, and then the body of Goido Yui entered their sight, "We've been waiting for the two of you."

Ayumi grew ever more doubtful. Sure, the presence of one of her more well-known friends subconsciously brought some of the load off her chest, but the realization that technically four Goddesses were in one place made everything so much more dire.

"Ayumi?" Shiori's voice snapped her out of her short-lived trance. The librarian had already passed the door's barrier of entry, and had been waiting patiently for her to do the same. She, without any more delays, rushed in, and shed off her footwear.

Turning to Yui, she asked in her exasperated voice, "Are all of them here?"

"What? The Goddesses and their hosts? Yeah, their in Tenri's room, upstairs."

They were all here.

Oh my God.

What happened?

The stress and tension mounted. She rushed upstairs, while Yui and Shiori followed slowly behind, the former's welcoming smile faltering with each step, and the latter inches from crouching down and curling into a ball.

Upon entering her destination, Ayumi was blessed with the sight of the three other hosts of the pantheon sitting on whatever made good makeshift chairs- Tenri on her own study desk's chair, Kanon laying flat and contemplatively on the bed, and Tsukiyo on one of Tenri's magician boxes, having set it close to the window so she could gaze at the moon.

"We're all here," Yui spoke first from beyond Ayumi's back, before she beckoned her and Shiori to get some place to sit. Ayumi opted for the floor; Shiori continued standing; Yui joined her, but instead stood at the door.

"Humph," Tsukiyo harrumphed, "Where were you, Ayumi? I understand Shiori's lateness- Minerva isn't that fast- but you?"

"Mercury must've been lazy, or something," Kanon interjected, waving a forgiving hand in the air, "She seems like the type to not care at first."

Before there could be anymore playful banter to toss, the first speaker's voice suddenly drew itself low, and the graveness of her voice seeped into the room. "So, what's the problem?"

"U-um," Tenri answered, "D-Diana has something to say." She, then, held up a mirror, and the facade of Diana projected itself onto the surface. The Goddess hadn't changed at all, but there was a reason why she had to appear on a reflective surface, instead of manifesting herself in Tenri's body.

Months had already passed since the end of Keima's story with the Goddesses. The subsequent relinquishing of hopes and affections had very much weakened their powers, till they were only disembodied voices in their hosts' heads and hallucinations in their reflections. They would not disappear that easily, of course- Apollo made sure of that, by promising that the heart of someone wouldn't easily suddenly become devoid of the powerful thing known as love. Still, it made them much less effective, in the long run.

That prospect, and whatever risks lied ahead, did not faze Diana at all as she looked round the room. From here, she could see all her sisters, making themselves known on all the surfaces that could hold them. She cleared her throat, and began her terrible stream of news.

"Sisters, and hosts, something terrible has occurred."

The hosts shook at the news. The Goddesses either grimaced or teared at what they knew was coming.

"Katsuragi Keima is gone."

All six girls stifled their breaths. Yui asked an echoing "What?" at the revelation, clearly confused. The others exchanged baffled glances. Wanton disbelief filled the room. The mirror itself quaked from Tenri's shuddering limbs.

Was this what Mercury meant earlier? W-wait, what did she mean he was 'gone'. Dead? No, that couldn't- How-?!

A yawn broke the vomit-inducing atmosphere. Mercury, having stretched herself awake, leaned closer to the barrier that was the mirror on the other end of the room, opposite of Ayumi, and inquired, no hint of worry in her voice:

"Explain 'gone', sister Diana? How are we so-?"

"WHAT IS THERE TO EXPLAIN!" Yui's Goddess, Mars, yelled from her side of the screen, strangely enough the most devastated. "Keima is dead- that is what 'gone' means! We all felt it, did we not?! How our ties to him, just yesterday secure, were severed in an instance! A-and we weren't there to protect him… Who was it that done it… Who's so brazen enough to smite someone we swore to protect for his services which saved us from perish? I WILL FIND THEM MYSELF!!"

"Even with your powers, sister Mars," Tsukiyo's Goddess, Vulcan, argued her concerns through the doll, Luna, "Beating this supposed villainous group capable of taking down one who has out blessings seems too farfetched an act. I will follow you. Minerva, you as well- your powers are needed."

Minerva nodded her cute little head with unnatural eagerness.

"Eh, what about me~?" asked Apollo.

"Don't worry, we're all going! We will avenge him!"

"Eh?! S-so do you mean we have to endanger ourselves!?" cried Tsukiyo, her fluster evident in her face. Shiori shuffled with much nervous energy in agreement to her complaints. Yui bit her thumb in her own hopeless effort to calm herself down. Kanon looked ready to cry, her awkward cheeriness from earlier broken into pathetic pieces by the news and the implications she interpreted from them- even if she had a stun gun ready on one hand. Ayumi herself didn't feel comfortable even breathing.

What should they do- save for following Mars's advice.She hoped dreadfully that another alternative could come, or that something else could surface and change everything.

She had thought that she had gotten over him.

Everyone else- save for Yui- thought the same.

So why was despair still so deep?

"NOT YET, SISTERS!"

The room veered their eyes to Tenri's mirror. Diana, rendering herself unfazed by the sudden attention, spoke up, this time louder, more commanding, and much more reassuring to the audience in the room, "Just because his presence has disappeared, doesn't mean he is completely dead."

"W-what?" Someone in the room asked back, incredulous. No one had any attention or bother to spare and check who it was.

"A person dying does not immediately disappear from the world. Their soul usually linger for a little more, before they truly, properly disappear and enter the afterlife. Keima's disappearance… it's too instantaneous, much like a…"

"Spiriting-away." Vulcan, as if struck by a dawning realization, finished her sentence.

"S-spiriting-away? Like in the movies?" opined Kanon.

"Eh? What would even do that? Spirit him away? To where?" Ayumi asked, dishing out the questions like there were no tomorrow to ask them.

"I do not know, Ayumi," Diana answered, veering her own gaze away in unabashed shame, "We are at a… a lack of data of such occurrences."

"Yeah," Apollo took over the lead, "Spiriting-aways are really rare~ They do make good excuses when someone disappers off the face of the Earth, but that's not the point, is it? You'd usually need a lot of magical energy for that, though, so how someone's able to get that much without being some higher being like us, I don't really know."

"B-but that does mean he's not dead, right?" interrupted Yui, her tone forceful and frantic.

"Yes, yes, that could be the case, but if we don't know how he died- or how he was spirited-away- then we will be lost on what to do till that time comes…"

The room grew quiet from the answer.

Breath shuddered as if winter had seized the throat.

No one had anything to say- the distress having stopped their brains from even working as intended. To even think or assess their options in the foreseeable future was something none could comprehend. Their consciousness, the reason they, the hosts and the Goddesses, existed, completely dedicated itself on the devastation in front of them.

And then Ayumi's phone rang.

Chihiro's number flashed on the screen.

O - O - O - O

The Gap Youkai patted away the drenching substance off her hand. Oh, she could very much feel Dokuro's gaze burn on her back, but she didn't mind. She had had many glares of that caliber upon her before, and it would only take but a simple moment of indifference for them to 'get to the point'.

"His body."

"Hmm?" Yukari drawled as she turned to her compatriot, the hem of her clothes rubbing against the sand. "What of it?"

"Where is it?"

Ah, so that's what she meant. She, initially, chuckled at her concerns, then at the Devil's bitter expression. After the short session of mockery, she asked her, "Do you know how magically volatile Lake Suwa is?"

Dokuro shuffled in her spot, the look never leaving her face. "Are you telling me this place is another gateway to Gensokyo?"

So… she didn't know? Yukari pitied her lack of knowledge over anything. Shaking her head, she then continued:

"Coincidences and the likes: one forgotten Goddess casted her magic in this place to go to Gensokyo, but she… used a bit too much, if I may say so, myself. Residual magic flows with the current. It gravitates to areas devoid of magic, but is also influenced by minute things: the wind, the seas and skies, all that, and what do you know," she held up one of the bowls she had used to encapsulate the surrounding, "Lake Suwa is a nice bowl to catch falling residue. Other Youkai and forgotten relics pass through Suwa frequently, and, just by sensing the leftovers, they learn; they remember of the safe haven beyond the Border. Slowly, the residue builds up from all these youkai finding their ways into Gensokyo, and it all collects beneath the lake. One day, that old bake-danuki- an acquaintance of an acquaintance of mine- did the same thing, here, on the very shores of this watery body. Now that was troublesome."

"What made it so?"

"That was the straw. The excesses thickened. It curdled like whey. And when so much teleportation magic residue is stuck in one place…" Yukari paused. The sight of the cityscape enraptured her for a brief, yet somber moment, till she could not help but marvel at the ethereal sight. A city of technological and scientific progress, built around a lake filled with a past long forgotten- poetic. How did a city like this become such a hotspot for magic? No, such questions were of no concern at the moment; she could not leave Dokuro hanging.

"Let's say the transition of one's body and spirit becomes a much more... complicated affair."

"So you're telling me-"

"Yes." She exchanged a glance to her. "The process of the afterlife is disrupted. What should be Katsuragi's body floating in the water, is instead nothing."

"So he's not dead?"

"No. The magical residue has fooled the cycle. He should be dead, yes, if I actually went the extra mile to actually drown him- but I'm not the kind of Youkai to kill people that simply. Instead of his soul, though, his teleportation-magically-charged body has been taken, as well, completely intact, and very much alive. Savvy?"

"A living person," Dokuro, in her absentminded daze, laid slip a concern from the crevices of her mind, "In Hell; in the Sanzu River."

"Oh, yes, my dear Dokuro." Yukari giggled at the end, but quickly composed herself to finish off the meeting within the night. "Now, let us wait and see, shall we?"

She could see the anxiety in Dokuro's body as it came to stave her tongue and answer. She needed not the postponement- watching the boy succeed was much higher on her list of top priorities, and perhaps also attending to her shikigami, who were surely fretting over her sudden departure, and maybe tease Reimu over something, and maybe…

Oh, she had lots to do, that was the point. And she wanted to do all of it, quickly.

"Ah, before that! Let me deal with Kosaka, if you may?"

Before Dokuro could even answer, she gapped the scene away.