Onozuka Komachi didn't exactly why, or how, he wanted to meet Inaba Tewi at Mokou's yakitori stand. The guy had never even explained anything to her about it before they went there, but she suspected that he at least thought about it for a while. The guy was sitting there for almost an hour as he waited for the night to come, and he said not a single word throughout, perhaps too deep in his mind to do so. Of course. That must have been the case.

So... was this part of the plan?

Floating invisibly through the path, Komachi watched as the two right beside her kept deathly quiet. Tewi had a hand on the disabled Keima, and though it honestly looked hilarious that the assertive Capturing God had become subservient and lower than a Rabbit, she couldn't help but feel disturbed at the awkward silence between them. Sure, they, or at least Tewi, saw a side of the Immortal that would scar anyone for life, but that couldn't have shut them up for life, right? So what was wrong? Why was he so... silent?

Keima, frankly, had good reasons. Good reasons he'd wished he didn't have in the first place, because nothing was happening. He was wasting his damn time. It was an event he couldn't believe was happening, one that in the right scenario would have really sped up the capture, but it was one that had come far too early for… well, anything. He'd skipped almost five steps, far too much, and now her attraction levels to him were too low for him to work with. It was awkward, it was nerve-wracking, it was spine-chilling. Where was she going? Where was she actually leading him? He pursed his lips in wait.

I... well, I could... No, that'd be too dangerous, right now.

Maybe I... No, no, no.

Something to talk about? What to talk about?

Everything wouldn't work! I can't approach her, she has to approach me, and she isn't doing that. She's not initializing any dialogues that should be appearing right now!

By now, he was short of just endless suffering in this climate of unsung intent. It was like he was speaking to Rogue A.I., programming gone wrong, an event in limitless glitch. The concept sickened him. He had gone through stuff like this before, but the difference was that he'd hoped it was the last time it would ever affect him. Sad to say his hopes were dashed. No gamer, or person, should ever go through such a stunted development, no matter how deserving they are of the suffering.

Ugh, he could slurp the tension in the air. It was so thick that he struggled to even continue taking steps, or even breathe. Tewi's hands were of no comfort; cold and rough with the calluses from all the days work. A part of him wanted to ask. That part, he hated with a passion, the dumb thing that believed, if he should pursue such a role, it would be fine, and he, in exasperated response, tried his darnedest to keep it silent.

But... what if it was right?

No, no, of course it wasn't! What was he thinking?! Tewi wouldn't appreciate it! Sure, you could argue that it worked just now, but Mokou was there! She was the key to all this, and now she wasn't here... so what was he supposed to do?!

Gah, he might as well forget it and keep quiet, for all he cared. Either you step on a mine, or wait till someone gets you out of it.

"We're almost there."

His ears perked up.

"O-oh, yeah, thanks..."

And immediately after that, he went back into silence.

The sound of dirt made way to tiles.

Trees rustled from the nightly breeze.

Wait a minute…

She talked!

Almost ten minutes of silent walking, and she just-just said something!

Dialogue?

DIALOGUE!

"U-uh-!"

Tewi cringed at the poor excuse of a stammer. Continuing her trek, she turned to the blind boy with a sharpened leer and asked, rather toxic in tone, "What?"

Katsuragi scratched the back of his neck as he acted all coy and embarrassed. She raised an eyebrow at the performance. Where did all the energy come from, huh? Gah, she should've just shutted up. Talking to him right now was the least of what she wanted.

"S-sorry for this afternoon."

Yeah, he'd better be. He made her really mad, back then, so mad, so livid, and so seething with rage that she…

Tewi shook her head, her rabbit ears flopping and her carrot necklace twinkling in onomatopoeic noise-making as she did so, and when she had calmed, she turned to him and muttered a, "Don't dwell on it, usa…"

She glowered as she finished her sentence, looking away in disdain from him so she could think of other things. He'd best heed her advice, because she had no desire to repeat it; and why would she? From her experiences with those law-loving shoe lickers and their book-keeping obsession, he wouldn't just forget it and do his own thing. Humans in Gensokyo might as well lack autonomy, and to that she'd say that she didn't care. Her dealings were separate from all that hubbub about the Youkai's battle for control, even if she did participate when her master found it best to use her innate influence on luck to benefit their hold on the bird cage, and even though she did uncover some modicum of enjoyment dealing with those short-lived creatures, now just wasn't the time. Now was not the time for anything other than the boiling steam rising through her ever since-

"Usa?"

The White Rabbit of Inaba flinched at the sound of his quizzical voice.

"Is… is that some kinda slang?"

Dammit, dammit, dammit… She'd had a slip of the tongue. She hadn't said that for a while now, perhaps ever since she started nestling the burning rage within her. And that was some while ago, too, and so the reminder of its existence sent a nostalgically shocking reverberation through her spine.

"Yeah…" she muttered in response, the slightest tinge of irritated regret in her voice, "Not like I still use it…"

Katsuragi felt a bout of uncontrollable perspiration come over him, and, for a usually composed God of Conquest, the feeling almost made him throw up in rejection. He hadn't a clue how he could, well, do anything, by this point. Her words made for very little maneuverability afterwards: they were conversation-ending in scale, and it stopped him from trying to continue them.

That was, though, until she slipped in an 'usa' in her sentence.

There it is!

A chip in her armor!

Go, go, go! Can't miss this opportunity-

"Why not? It's…" Keima gulped before he continued. His stomach cringed at the idea of what he was going to say. "Adorable."

Tewi stared at him like he was a pedophile.

The invisible Komachi felt her mouth straighten into the most unimpressed flatline ever, and her eyes narrow into scrutinizing slits.

And Katsuragi Keima knew none the wiser.

Did it work?

Whoo, that was dangerous. Playing such a crazy card in a time when I should be extremely reserved.

No, come on, I had my reasons. At the very least, it should impress someone who's lived in feudal Japan all their lives! Come on, in the best circumstance, I should have made a massive boost in her affection, especially since I've done a few things to make it much easier for her to be impressed by me…

So why isn't she talking?

He felt her hands let go, and then she muttered a drawling, "Ew…"

Ugh, backfired!

Keima inwardly cringed and grimaced. His calm outer shell creaked from her accusation, and he couldn't control the disappointment over the embarrassing failure. Hitting another roadblock after being diverted off the beaten path gave no sedation in such times, and the lack of that much needed assurance that he was doing something right once more was making him thirsty. How was nothing he was trying to grab turning into… I dunno, life-saving rope?! Why was he making stupid analogies right now?!

Gah, serves me right for using a double-edged sword like that. Now she thinks I'm a creep! That puts me so far back!

Wait, unless…

The boy's breath stopped for a second there, much to Tewi's puzzlement. Well, what was with the delayed response, huh? Was he going to say anything, because if he wasn't, then she'd very much be content with just tossing him right here, right now. And why wouldn't she?

They were right at the village gates.

"S-sorry, I said something really weird, there, did I?"

"Yeah…"

"B-but anyways…"

Ugh, is he still going?

"I-it sounds like you say it a lot less now, o-or something like that."

Tewi lowered her brows at the presumption. What was he trying to imply here: that he wanted to hear more of it? He really was a creep, wasn't he? Or just very bad at communicating ideas. Then again, wasn't he a lot different before, acting so stupidly suave back then at Fujiwara's cart? She didn't know what to do with this guy or his streak of misfortunes, by this point, and, honestly, she just wanted to be rid of him.

"I don't always say 'usa', okay? Just a habit." With an airy pat of his waist, she pushed him to the entrance. "Now get lost."

To her chagrin, the boy gave a tease as his answer to her rude shove: "S-shouldn't it be 'now get lost, usa'?"

A low guttural growl escaped her-

Keima heard a fleshy clap, before a rude foot complimented her prior shove, pushing him to opening the gates to the premises.

"Go home, kid."

Was what Keima heard as he frantically felt for flat, solid ground to stand on, before the squeaking of the hinges drowned out the voice and the great clang of the door began its echo through the Human Village. He tripped on something, forcing a yelp out of his throat, but before his bracing body could feel the dirt, the soft lasso of the hagoromo snatched his waist and brought him back up.

"Whoo," Komachi breathed a sigh of relief as she floated silently closer to him, "So… you got what you need?"

Keima grew quiet for a moment. Deep breaths exhaled from his lungs. He looked down at the ground. Before long, a solemn, lone nod broke his vow of silence.

"It's not much, but at least it's a step."

The only thing he could think about, then, was how Tewi's last words to him came as a muffled croak.

Katsuragi Keima found himself treading lightly through the pitch black Human Village, shuffling almost aimlessly in the empty desolation that was the moon-blessed street. No, he wasn't lost; far from it. The familiar softness of the hagoromo was coiled round his wrist, and the vague sense tht someone was beside him was enough of an assurance of correct direction and adequate care. He didn't need to fret. Someone was there to tell him not to step on dog or cat poo.

Okay. I'm in the Human Village, now…

Gotta lay low and fond some place to rest. I could just play my PFP, but… Hmm, maybe there is a way, but I can't just try it out in the open.

He shivered.

It's getting cold! God can't be a hobo , now!

Onozuka Komachi, on the other hand, invisible and riding the air right beside him, kept quiet.

It wasn't that she hadn't a thing to say: honestly, with that comparatively lackluster performance from before, and Tewi's strange flash of her alter demeanor at the end, she had a lot in her mind. The problem was that those things would have best been mediated as loudly, as overly-breath, and as extravagantly as possible, a blubbering that a whisper could never replicate in lower tones. Still, she did not bother trying to prove that statement. Keima hadn't spoken yet, and the subconscious silence obligated her the same shut-mouth treatment he was practicing, and to further add to it, she didn't like talking in the cold of winter, especially with fatigue as potent as what her flabby scythe-carriers were afflicted with.

"Onozuka?"

She turned to her buddy who'd called her name, answering with a drawling 'what?'

"Find me a nice house."

What did you think I was doing?

She didn't bother saying that aloud. Still, that didn't excuse her of her task, and in that vein, nothing came to mind. Not only was she not the most updated with abandoned homes ripe for temporary settling, the Human Village had no inn, or, heck, had no culture in accepting strangers into their homes, unless they were from outside Gensokyo, in which case it seemed almost like they saw them not as humans, but as tickets to at least vie for the attention of one of the Sages. No, wait, that was a hundred years ago, sorry. In any case, the point still stood: humans of the Village still at least were fine with accepting an Outsider. So…

"If you want a place, you'd better start taggin' yourself as an Outsider."

"No way."

Ah, how did she forget? That tactical stealth he was, quote unquote, employing during his stay.

"You could just say it to one person. It ain't that hard, right?" she chided as the seconds of silence began to drag. Keima sighed a cloud of chilling steam, to her expectant chagrin, and he stopped in his tracks outside a local izakaya. He turned round, facing the wrong way in the process, and answered:

"If I did that, the word will spread, and fast."

Ah, so that's why. "Oh," she vocalized, rolling her eyes, "In a place as tight-knit as this, I guess that could happen."

"And what happens when word gets out that I'm an Outsider?"

"Well, the Hakurei Shrine Maiden sends them back…"

"Exactly, and-"

"Or they attract the hunger of the Youkai."

Katsuragi choked on his own inhalation.

H-huh?

What?

He faltered. Processing that explanation grounded him to a halt, and like a statue he stood still in place, speechless.

Outsiders were…

Wait…

"What's the last part about?" he interrogated, furrowed brows shivering, sweat starting to appear on his forehead. The sudden turn was starting to make him nauseous from the implied context.

She didn't answer.

He waited a little longer, perhaps under the impression that she was trying to come up with an excuse for her slipping tongue. But nothing came of his wait. Why wasn't she answering?

"What'd you mean attract?"

Komachi?

Keima turned his head to the left.

"Why didn't you tell me that sooner?"

Where did you go? You aren't here, anymore! Dammit, you lazy Shinigami, why aren't you answering me!

"Are you telling me my life is in danger because I'm an Outsider!?"

"What's this about an Outsider?"

Every muscle in his body snapped tense.

Who… who was that? Whose voice?!

Komachi? Where are you?!

Heart racing. Mouth drying. Pupils screaming themselves thin. His blurry, sunken eyes couldn't see anything other than the light shifting, as if something- someone- was blocking it behind him. Footsteps on the earth marched closer.

God could handle anything during those last two captures. He had locked himself in the Sanctuary of the Sanzu, and a true Deity's kind abode, alongside a bodyguard by his side. He was safe, inoculated from the unwanted, and unwonted, primordial eyes of the Youkai wanting privy his name, but here he was now, in the open, away from any haven, unable to take sight of his surroundings, and in the audience of a lone stranger.

You are either spirited back to your home, alive, well, and innocent…

Or eaten.

Yeah, one should have guessed the delectability of the rare, properly-fattened and value-less Outsider to the Youkai.

If a feral Youkai finds out…

Keima didn't want to swallow, but the saliva couldn't help itself in its making of the loudest gulp he'd ever done.

I'm dea-

"Oi, Katsura-"

The re-emerging Komachi must have dodged, because his comet-powered reflexive backhand, his answer to the sheer shock of her sudden voice hitting the processors of his brain, hit nothin-

"GUAH!?"

Oh, wait, he did hit something… But it wasn't Komachi. It was someone else entirely.

"W-who-?! Oi, you damn Shinigami, who's that!?" he cried, waving a threatening fist at… whatever it was that was in front of him. His answer came quickly in the form of a hand on his shoulder.

"Katsuragi, you just-!" Komachi's frantic voice stammered itself to a halt, and she quickly shifted the topic, "A-apologize!"

"Ugh…" the dying victim croaked, her groans only heightening the rants.

"Where did you go!?" the man desperate to fulfill his frustrations interrogated, shoving the hand on his shoulder away with harsh levels of force, "I can't see! If I die, I swear to whatever God there is I'll haunt you to the day the world ends! Don't do that ever again: that's an order!"

"Oh come on, it wasn't that long!"

"Then why did you leave me right after that damn creepy hint?! That's the creepiest piece of casual exposition I've ever heard, in-game or in real life, and I've been told about my head coming off twice, now!"

"That's cos' I remembered she'd be in that restaurant!"

"Who?! Who'd you think was so integral to the capture's base of operations that you had to leave and not tell me about her! I feel betrayed! My old devil partner wouldn't do that!"

"U-ugh…"

Two rickety legs came to stand beside him, more specifically in between the two.

"C-can you… hold my head for a bit…"

Keima, caught off-guard in the middle of his tirade, felt his brain fizz from the abrupt change in pace, and from that he lost hold of his reflexes which stretched his arms out to do as she requested. Komachi shot him a look of surprise that he didn't notice, or, in fact, couldn't see, because, y'know, his eyes and all.

Someone's head did place itself on his hand, but it felt a lot lighter than he'd first imagined it to be, as if the body wasn't pushing down on it for some reason.

But then, finally, the confusion set in when he heard a body fall to the floor.

Huh?

A… body? On the floor? Then what was he…?

There was thrashing. There were moments of frozen shuddering. There was the sounds of suppressed coughs and cringing gurgles. Whatever the hell was happening, he still at least had a heads up above the thing.

Body, on floor…

Head, in arms…

Okay…?

Keima's squinting eyes- or as much of a squint as they could do with that swelling- looked down at the undefined, blurry thing in his cupping hands.

"Ow, ow," the victim groaned in pain, "You hit hard…"

The voice… It came from the thing in his hands.

"For a human, t-that is…"

Keima fishlipped.

Ah, I see how it is...

And then he brought it in for a closer hug.

Komachi furrowed her brows, confused by the sudden act.

"Uh… can you… not hold me that way?"

"No."

"EH!?"

The Shinigami spat out her lung's contents.

What was with all the surprise, Keima thought. Why wouldn't he hug the head? As we all know, any fan of Sekibanki would always dream of holding her head this way. Besides, he needed a stress reliever, and her softness made for an interesting ball to hold.

"HELP ME! MAKE HIM LET GO BEFORE ANYONE SEES!"

The scythe connected into his cranium, and finally did he let go.

One of the houses nearby awoke their candles.

O - O - O - O

The undercover Rokurokubi, Sekibanki, would have never expected today to be so… off, if that's the right word. News of the Moriya and those crazy Tengu came first in the line of dishes for today. It would've been an ordinary day, if only it hadn't been plagued by stories of that great feast last night and news of the two Youkai Mountain factions coming together. She couldn't believe it, herself. The Tengu? Those proud birdbrains actually playing nice, even with a snout too high in the clouds? Impossible. That couldn't possibly be the truth, she couldn't believe it, and in respect to those beliefs, she spent all day debunking that wild fallacy, the heart-spinning propaganda of the Tengu allying with the Moriya, with the best of her abilities without revealing that she was a Youkai, herself. Sure, what would come of this, if it was actually a propaganda piece? She didn't know, but all she could do about it was tell everyone else of cautionary tales regarding those two far-too-proud races, that being Tengu and God.

Then came even stranger rumors of the Bamboo Forest, of the little Inaba Rabbit and her newfound streak of becoming much more 'dangerous'. 'Dangerous'? More like pettiness: Inaba Tewi was nothing more than a grouch with a scammer's record. Of course she would be 'dangerous', she must've lost a good scam, or something. What was so shocking of that?

All the above, though, were the tip of the iceberg for the next thing to come. She could deal with the first two with a level-headed approach, but this next one, this entanglement that she'd gotten herself into, was nothing short of insane.

"So you're telling me…"

The lock to Sekibanki's own house clicked.

"You, an outsider."

The moonlight pierced through the slowly enlarging opening.

"And you, a Shinigami…"

A match lit in the air. Her face floated dimly in the dark.

"Are here under orders to do… something? And you can't tell me what it is?"

The wick of the candle burst to life and her shack in the outskirts of the Human Village came to illumination. The Shinigami who had come looking for her started shedding off whatever it was what had rendered her invisible, before forming it as a cloudy scarf around her shoulder and coiling on her antiquated piece of history. The boy, on the other hand, was a much less impressive piece of work: a lanky thing, no muscle (characteristic of Outsiders, she supposed), and, unfortunately temporarily blind in both eyes. On further examination, she realized the bandaged and purple-petaled eyelids in her homely light, and pondered how he got them. A later lit lantern assured her that she wasn't lucid from her drink and the presumed existence of a bruise in her stomach.

"Miss Onozuka-" she began as she sat down to light her fireplace, only to be cut off by the woman in question.

"Call me Komachi. I'm fine without all the polite stuff."

"O-okay," she nodded, her head twisting a hundred and eighty degrees behind so she could see the two above the fringes of her massive collar, "So, Komachi, care to explain even further what all this's about?"

The Shinigami shot an anxious look at her partner, much to Sekibanki's surprise. Wasn't she the Shinigami, here? Surely, she was supposed to be the one making the orders, not taking them. The fact that his answer came in the form of the simplest, yet deepest gesture, the handwave, made it all the stranger. And the cherry on top of that cake? She responded as if it'd given her clearance to continue.

"Orders from Yakumo and the higher-ups. There're some things he and I've gotta drive out of Gensokyo."

"Things?" the Rokurokubi raised a brow, "What things? Youkai?"

Komachi answered with a half-hearted whistling attempt at dodging the question. Sekibanki pouted. Her partner palmed his face. He couldn't see, but he could damn well listen and imagine. The Shinigami, with careful gait and shuffling feet made difficult due to her shoes, retreated shamelessly to the corner of the shack, far away from the scrutinizing buddy as possible. There, she began to rest her back on the old moldy wall, her 'innocent smile' still plastered to her face and eyes diverted from the rokurokubi's own eyes.

"A-anyways," the man now began to speak, raising a hand to attract her attention, "What is it about Youkai and Outsiders? My partner here forgot to explain, and, yes, I'm a bit..." he shot a hard glare- or as close to one with those wounds on his face- to the left, which was unfortunate, because Komachi was sitting at his right, "Mad at that."

Sekibanki sighed, rather glum over having to expend more energy once again. She'd just drunk alcohol; let her sleep. She explained as she turned her head back to the now crackling firewood, "Youkai enjoy eating Outsiders, that's all. Some of them started perpetrating the idea that they were some delicacy because they were from the Outside World, and I guess the idea stuck."

"And are you a… uh… that kind of Youkai?" he asked, far too suspicious for her liking.

"What, you want me to be?" she snapped, the tiredness getting to her.

"N-no…?"

"Good. I don't fancy human meat that much, anymore. Doesn't go down the throat too good."

She could feel the irony-tightened glare on her backside from the Shinigami's buddy, and she couldn't help but give a cocky tongue click at him. That only made his look tighten. What, the man didn't have a sense of humor, or something, or did it disappear when he came into Gensokyo? All that hubbub about common sense must've done a number on him, huh?

The fireplace began to burn, and with tired step she took a small kettle, filled it with water from an old container and placed it above the cinders so it could boil. The man had, just now, opted to sit in silence at where he stood, which was at the door, so his accommodations was at least out of the way. Having only one bed meant that there wasn't space for other people, and Sekibanki liked it that way: alone, and in peace and quiet. But here was a human, and a blind one at that. An Outsider. She felt like she could pity him if she had the heart.

When the water reached a point of vigorous bubbling and drumming, she took the kettle off and prepared her guests some tea. She hoped for little in how the beverage would turn out; the other Youkai were never fond of her leaves, so what were the chances that these strangers would be different? Far as she knew, she might as well be serving them dirt water.

Okay, calling it that at least had the effect of hurting her 'feelings'- cheesy, she knew. If she liked it this way, she might as well drink it and promote it like how she always knew it to be made, and no one's opinions should matter if that were the case. Of course, the Shinigami which she served first crinkled the bridge of her brows upon first tasting it (no surprises there), and she couldn't help but think the man would do the same thing.

"Hmm… This is pretty good."

"Huh?" Sekibanki shot sheer incredulity at him.

Taking another sip, he began to comment, "Steeped well. The temperature's right. All I need is a bit of sugar, and this should be good enough to serve in stores."

By the end of it, she was pouring his cup even fuller. It'd been half-full just a moment ago, and, sure enough, she was grinning ear-to-ear beneath the towering collars of her cape.

"If you like it that much," she said, trying her hardest to contain the gratitude and pride in her voice, "Then have some more. I think I've got some sugar somewhere."

He deadpanned in reply, to the rokurokubi's now-unending entertainment, before the dissipating sound of the lapping water signaled him to take another sip.

"Hey, wanna drink my share?" Komachi, on her side of the house, uttered loudly to the chagrin of the two, and she quickly found herself ignored. She didn't mind, though: today had consisted of too much talk and no rest, and she wanted rest.

O - O - O - O

When Komachi awoke to the sound of Keima's frantic whispering for her attention, the night had progressed, and the lights and fire had been extinguished. She felt for her scythe, finding it still beside her, and then muttered, quietly, "What? Can't ya see I was sleepin'?"

"No," Keima snapped, "I'm blind, you stupid Shinigami. Now come closer so I can actually whisper."

She raised a brow. Why would he want to whisper, right now? She didn't want to move: she liked her spot on the ground. A quick reminder by the man, though, begrudgingly changed her mind, and with quiet gait she tiptoed towards his spot near the entrance of the building.

During her rest, she'd forgotten about the Youkai in the room, who, by this point in time, had fallen asleep on her solitary bed in the far corner. Knowing Youkai, though, she surmised that her buddy was just acting extra cautious about throwing information back and forth between each other in a distance as long as where he was and where she had been, because some species had rather good hearing, and the two didn't want anyone knowing about what they were doing- okay, she was fine with telling a select few people, but Keima insisted, and his attitude up to this point made negotiations difficult. Plopping down beside him, she leaned closer to his face and impatiently beckoned, "Come on, hit me up. It's got somethin' to do with earlier, right?"

"Yes," he answered, the signature hardened stare coming to his face, "For now, I think I've at least made something of a first impression with Tewi-"

"Yeah," Komachi drowsily cut him off, "Meeting her, buyin' her food, and letting her take you 'back' to the Human Village; what has the world come to?"

"Oi, I'm explaining here."

Komachi's scoffing ire didn't help.

"Look: I've never worked in a situation where the capture target's this adamantly against the flow of the capture, but I think I've noticed something that may work." Komachi's eyes lost their teasing glint to widen at the claim. "If it doesn't, then we resume meeting her by chance- get as many events as possible to get as much affection points as possible- but for that plan to work, I need an investment."

The Shinigami couldn't help but loosen her tongue to mutter a 'wow'. The man actually had a plan? She had tailed him throughout his interaction with the Rabbit Youkai, and she couldn't see anything worth taking note of other than abrasion rivaling that of sandpaper! If whatever he said were true, then wouldn't that translate to a faster operation; an easier job; more time for her to take breaks? Oh, yes! That sounded much sweeter than she'd hoped to anticipate. Even if she'd wanted to donate more of her time in this capture, courtesy of her extended, forced break during Kanako's conquest, she at least couldn't stop her natural metabolism and Circadian rhythm from encroaching over that resolve. To streamline the whole thing, then, meant as such, and she found a pride of sorts beginning to bloom in her regarding the versatility of her partner. Not that she would ever see him as anything more than a weirdo gamer, of course. The guy had to calm down with that electronic gizmo.

In any case, she realized that she hadn't a clue what his plan was, and with unrestrained impatience, she asked him, "So what is it?"

Keima cleared his throat and whispered the explanation: "Look, remember when Tewi was about to leave Mokou's stall? She came back after I bought her the food and you urged her to take it."

"Yeah?"

"I'm thinking that's her archetype."

"Um… I'm not getting you."

A sigh answered her silly opining.

"Look, why did she suddenly reconsider, when, for all we know, she hates me. She reconsidered not because I bought her food, but because it was free. She's the kind of heroine who'd care for material wealth. If she could get a free lunch, she'd never skip it."

"Well," Komachi shuffled in her place for a more comfortable spot to consider, "I guess you're right, an' all. I've heard of her scammin' and stealin' stuff."

"See, taking possessions out of other people. That, though, takes effort. What if it didn't? I'm sure she'd like that. Thus, she's susceptible to gifting, which means…"

"We give her stuff till she likes you?"

"Yes, but," Keima's face turned grim, "That's not enough…"

"Well, yeah, it's just you buyin' her stuff. She ain't gonna love you: she's gonna love your money, and you ain't exactly goin' for a Pestilence God, 'ere."

"And that's the problem. Well, it's not a capture problem, it's more a problem of the character: they're fickle. It's puppy love." His face contorted into a frustrated scowl. "Unless she whole-heartedly appreciates the stuff I give her, she'll never heal the gap in her heart and drive the Runaway Spirit out. But it's something I have to try. If it doesn't work, it'll at least have quickened the capture- because what capture target doesn't like gifts- and maybe, once she has enough of the gifts, she'll be too happy with them to even remember whatever or whoever it is she wants to kill."

"Huh…" Komachi slouched further onto the wall, before stroking her chin, "I guess it'll work- not that I'm the professional in all of this."

"Technically," Keima interjected, "If we knew who it was she was after, we could go for the non-romance route. But we don't, so we're settling for this. Override her desire for revenge with her old desire for material wealth."

Komachi brooded for a moment before she gave an inquisitive glance at Keima, and asked, "So… what am I supposed to do?"

"Whatever it is I tell you to," he bluntly answered, "It can't be that hard to figure out."

The Shinigami blew air through her lips. "I feel like I'm payin' your debt for you, y'know that? All I do is money, money, money- how did your old partner survive?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She shook her head. There was an odd frustration, of sorts, suddenly inside her, like she'd struck the ground and boiling water had started seeping out from the crack. The tiring day had begun to cloud her, and she couldn't help but let the demeaning tongue loosen its noose. It had a point, too, because all she'd done was keep up her subservience with him, and, honestly, she was starting to lose interest in being the one to 'happily serve' the boy. There was so much she could do, so why was she…

No, stop it, brain.

She was being irrational, and a part of her knew it. She'd done her fair share of stuff, it was him who should be taking a break here. He saved Eiki from the Runaway Spirit- and yeah, he did kiss her, and that still haunted her from time-to-time when the memory would arise from within- what was there to complain about?

Komachi craned her neck upward to a gleam of moonlight as she quelled her drowsing grumbles. There was a hole on the roof, letting in a soft illuminance on the ground next to her feet. That faint glare that'd plagued her face mellowed, and the muscles on her face loosened till their tautness seemed but a distant memory. Her lower lip, though, puckered for a moment before they released to let loose a sigh. Some would chop her moodiness to work: the Shinigami must've adapted to that long break during her stay in the Moriya Shrine, but that wasn't exactly it. A Shinigami, assigned to a mortal man with a pension for household entertainment, was essentially a protector, a sentinel; and she didn't like the idea, at first. Not that it stopped her from taking the job, though, cos' of skill sets and all, but after a while, she guessed she'd grown slightly attached. The guy just transcended all other Humans, save for the few special ones she knew, and even then there was no way they wouldn't be charmed by his wiles- a tall order, yes, but knowing him, he'd 'capture' them in a heartbeat.

"Pfft-"

"Hey," Keima pestered angrily, his prior question having been left hanging in the air, "What was that sentence from before? You gonna answer me or what?"

Him? Capture the Hakurei? Komachi couldn't- What was she, stupid? That was an idea far in the realm of the imaginary, and she knew perfectly well it would never happen. Bah, she was getting off-topic, here, and she quickly assembled an answer for him. It wasn't the best way to phrase it, yes, but she thought it fine enough. Turning solemnly towards the man, face tired of the day's ire, and body too tense for her liking, Komachi tipped her scythe in a casual display, and muttered quietly, "Sorry, sorry, just worried, is all."

Keima paused for a moment.

He hadn't heard the Shinigami speak with that much sentimental air before, and the shifting mood had taken him by surprise- thanks to his lowered guard. That mellowing, though, did little to break his stoicism; for he'd already gone through the twists and turns of interacting with other living beings, and the shift happening in front of him did little to sway him off his mediated, stoic self. Keima's monotone face stretched his lips slightly. Something was shifting in Komachi, and he didn't know whether to ignore it, or fear the coming days. This camaraderie, this companionship, it was surely to backfire at one point. Whenever that would be, he couldn't say, but it was coming and he hadn't the time till now to think about it.

It wasn't just Komachi, too: was he dabbling with the Touhou canon? Was there a canon in the first place? What would come of the results of his presence in the series' next work? Would he star in it? Could he even go back home? Thinking these things, he grimaced, and the encroaching sleep was also not helping him in the long run. The world seemed to grow ever more quieter, the great blaring orchestras of nature's little tenders quashed by nothing but tire and the crackling flames subsiding. His blurred, blocked vision darkened till no light passed through them and the darkness made Katsuragi Keima feel alone. Sensory organs, all failing. Games unplayable. A lazy Shinigami as his sidekick.

What damn fantasy epic was he writing here?

Keima glowered at the thought, before coming to the conclusion that it was time to get rid of it. He needed sleep, that's all, and if it was the rare, lustrous body of sleep he needed, then he was fine with dozing off in her wake.

Komachi heard her buddy's breathing slow to a crawl, indicative of his sleeping physique, and she chuckled. It'd been a few days since she'd seen the man rest, on account of him trailing the night away thinking about how he would help the Moriya Shrine's desperate God, so to see him get some well-deserved rest, especially for a capture as supposedly dangerous as this one, gave her no curse of indecision. Katsuragi was going into a mission blind- in both accounts- and yet he still trudged along, planning and making claims like how he'd done so before. What was it that made him move, that gave him the energy to move and the will to fight back the damning conclusions a tired mind would conjure? She didn't really know whether or not she could've answered that question ever in her life, had it not been for her own bits of history with Almage-Machina, where Hell demanded so much of her that, right after its end, she became very much a couch potato to make up the lost time she had. Did he hope for the same, one day? He did admit to doing quite a handful of captures before, and for what? What was he getting out of it?

No, that wasn't the point. She and him had at least one thing in common. To him, his capture targets. To her, this side of the Sanzu, her home and timely abode.

To those two things, their respective members cared. And to that, she sympathized.

And the moonlit sky tucked away into the blanketing clouds for her to close her eyes one last time that night.