Night watch was one of the least glamorous jobs around.

At least, tonight it was. The ship had left the mainland behind before sunset. In these winds, they wouldn't approach Tsushima until the morning. That cut both ways, though—any pirate who wanted to approach them would be doing so at a crawl, and they'd have plenty of time to raise the alarm. The weather promised to remain pleasant, and the ship was in good repair. There was nothing to do but stay awake, scan the horizon occasionally, and check the ship's heading now and then.

So, the two men played cards.

Neither of them knew the name of the game, and their grasp of the rules was only slightly better. The deck had come from some foreign port, and nobody could read the cards, let alone guess what each one meant. With enough boredom and alcohol, though, sailors could gamble on almost anything.

"I've got, uh..." One of them tossed two cards into the pile in the middle. "Tigers. Nine of 'em."

"Too bad." The other leaned over, steadying himself with one hand, and slapped his card down on top of the others. "Mine's got writing on it." After keeping the card pinned there for long enough to make a point, he started scooping up his winnings.

"Who decided the cards with nothin' but writing are worth the most?"

"S'only natural. Has to be scriptures or something. Best to be careful, dealing with things like that."

"You're only saying that because—"

A deep, seismic groan rumbled through the ship, cutting him off. They both jerked upright, looking around for the source of the sound. None presented itself.

"Th' hell was that?"

"Ran aground, maybe?"

"Shouldn't be any shoals that shallow 'round here."

"Don't hear you giving any other explanation." The man pushed himself up to get a better view. "If it's..." His gaze settled onto something beyond the railing, and he trailed off, the color draining from his face.

The other looked up at him, uneasy. "What's got into you?"

"Uh. You should... you should maybe see for yourself."

Grumbling, the other hauled himself upright, with a crackle of abused joints. He, too, was stricken with amazed silence.

The sea was glowing. A pale white light danced just beneath the surface, seeming to leech the color from everything it illuminated. It roiled slowly, like boiling syrup, folding into itself and then bulging back out. It stretched dozens of meters away from the ship, and a quick glance around was enough to confirm that it was on all sides of them. Whatever the thing was, the ship had sailed right into its center.

Or, it had come to them.

"What... d'you think it is?"

The second man didn't answer, but took a fearful step back from the railing. "I heard of something like this. The sea, when it starts glowing and comes alive. Old-timers say you have to get a pole and stab it, don't let up until it learns to leave you alone."

"Sounds like a good way to piss it off, you ask me."

The ship groaned again. This time, it was more forceful: a deep, shuddering noise that rattled their bones and echoed in their chests. It nearly knocked them off their feet, and they latched onto the railing for support.

The light beneath the ocean was moving with purpose now. It was moving toward them, contracting inward like a pool of water going down a drain. Here and there, ethereal wisps drifted above the water's surface, coiling like tentacles before they dissipated.

"I'll get a pole!" said the first man, hurrying toward the stern. "You keep an eye on it or somethin', we'll give it a few stabs and—"

He stumbled to a stop. There, in front of him, a solid mass of light was bulging up through the deck. It rose slowly, then came to a stop, pulling more of its bulk up from the sea. It began taking shape. As it grew more solid, the light faded and the thing sank into shadows. Right at the end there, though, he could swear he'd seen the outline of a head.

He stared at the spot where it had been, agape. He could feel it staring back.

"W-who, who's there?! Get out here n' present yourself!" He shouted into the darkness.

A low creak ran through the ship. It, somehow, carried a hint of laughter.

A dim green light sizzled into being in front of him. It blurred side to side with a shrill hum, and he got the briefest glimpse of a figure before the intruder disappeared.

The sailor whirled around, looking for any sign of where the thing had gone. In the dark, the ship suddenly looked alien, the silhouettes of spars and ropes forming a skeletal jungle overhead.

"Spread out!" his companion shouted from behind him. He didn't dare to look back, though. He was afraid of what might come out of the darkness if he weren't watching it. "It's just a stowaway, or, or pirates or somethin'! Don't let it get to your head!"

They didn't get much of a chance to search. The distinct plop of something breaching the water came from below. Something thumped, heavily, against the side of the hull.

It was followed by a slow, wet dragging noise. Another thump confirmed what they had already suspected: Whatever was down there, it was pulling itself up the side of the ship.

Both men whirled toward the sound. The closer of the two crept backward, shrinking away until he was nearly out of the lantern's light. Slowly, one thump at a time, the thing moved higher along the ship's hull.

A pale hand reached up past the edge of the deck. It effortlessly pulled the rest of its body up behind it.

The first impression of it: Black, stringy, drenched hair. It was plastered to the thing's head, obscuring most of its face. What little skin was visible glowed with a sickly light. One eye stared out, blank and searching. Its mouth was spread in a smile, just a bit too wide, and only darkness was visible within.

"Get, get off! Get out of here!" One bellowed, scrambling backward. "Who the hell are you?!"

It seemed like the creature had anticipated this question. It tilted its head, almost thoughtfully. Dim green fire billowed from its eyes. From somewhere far, far below, as if the ocean itself were speaking, came an answer: "MU. RA. SA."

Again, it was limned in green light. Its form jittered side to side, blurring. With a low hum, it faded away, vanishing into the night again.

"Still think it's a stowaway?!"

"Shut your mouth and grab something to defend yourself!" The light jostled wildly across the deck as the first man scooped up the lantern, prepared to use it as a weapon.

"We should get below decks. Or jump off." The other was stepping back now, putting distance between himself and the spirit's last location, but too frightened to look away. "Some kind of ghost who has it out for sailors, I reckon, and—"

His foot bumped against something in the dark. Knocked off balance, he fell backward.

Whatever he'd tripped over was cold, wet, and soft. As he landed, he saw it next to him—a figure, pale and drenched with water, dimly glowing. It leaned forward, its eyes fixated on him through their wreath of green flame. A hand reached out. Paralyzed with terror, he couldn't bring himself to move away. It brought the scent of the ocean with it—the deep ocean, brine and rot and things you fished up and then threw back, swearing never to speak of them again. The hand settled onto his shoulder with a wet smack.

It pulled itself closer.

It... it was a she. A young woman. She was pretty, or had been pretty once. Her skin was a wholly unhealthy washed-out pale color, her eyes were glazed, and her clothes were rotting tatters, but she looked remarkably intact, considering. She leaned in.

"A LADLE." She sighed the word out.

He was frozen in place, not daring to twitch. Even so, he couldn't stop himself from blurting out, "W-what?"

"GIVE ME A LADLE." She sounded mournful. Almost frightened.

He looked up to the other sailor, desperate for help. "What are you doin' standing there?! Get this girl a ladle!"

"No, no, I heard of this. You have to say no, can't give her one or she'll drown us all."

Her head turned, with a wet popping of vertebrae. She shot a baleful glance toward him, followed by a low sigh that seemed to rumble in the ship's timbers and stir the sail. She reached inside her ragged clothes and pulled out: a ladle.

"THEN..." She trailed off, like making a sentence even this complex was difficult for her. "I'LL HAVE TO USE MY OWN."

A wet, soft chuckle. And, she vanished again, in another green blur.

"Please!" The sailor who'd been standing now flung himself to the deck, looking wildly into the darkness. "Please, don't do this! We'll give you offerings when we get back to the shore, we'll never sail again, whatever you want!"

"Build you a shrine!" the second added, scrambling away from the puddle where she'd been kneeling over him.

"Just, just leave us, and we'll do anything you want, an'—"

This time, they could see as she reappeared. It was like her process of vanishing in reverse, a green blur in the air, shuddering with eye-straining speed, suffused with green light and an unsettling hum. When it stopped, there she was, hovering above the deck.

They both immediately went quiet. Even the sea seemed to go calm.

In the silence, they could hear sound from belowdecks. The rest of the crew was awake, and they were hammering on the door. They were trapped down there, somehow. Help would not be coming.

She tilted her head, seeming to consider the offer. "ANYTHING?"

"Yes!" the first sailor practically squealed. "Anything you want! We'll do it, just spare us, let us go and—"

"THEN... JOIN ME."

She stretched her arm out, holding the ladle in the air. And, for a moment, she kept it there. Like she was waiting to see if they'd try to stop her. Like she was taunting them, well aware that they couldn't.

She upended her ladle. Water burst out. It seemed like more than could possibly fit through such a small hole, a hundred buckets worth, slamming into the deck so hard that the entire ship rebounded from the impact. Water rushed across the surface like a tidal wave, and the flow was only increasing. Soon, the force knocked their feet out from under them, pushing them implacably across the deck.

The spirit stared down at them, watching them tumble and claw for purchase. She studied them with dispassionate interest, like she was trying to remember something. Without looking away, she raised her free hand overhead. An anchor, as wide as she was tall and far too heavy for any one person to lift, appeared in her grip.

She slammed it into the deck. It splintered the wood like it was paper. The entire ship bucked beneath them, then lurched as the hull, too, was breached.

Water poured in: a roar louder than any storm, with the force of an avalanche. The crew below were helpless to resist it. It pressed in around them, dark and cold. It knocked them off their feet, battered them, dragged them toward the darkness below. In that moment, the water was her, her hands, strangling the life out of one man after another. She could feel their last breaths bubbling out of them.

She was horrified. She wanted to stop, wanted to make this right somehow, but there was no going back. And, at the same time, she cackled into the night sky, delighted, each death fueling her and adding to her legend, and—

A shove to her stomach jolted her awake. She flailed in blind confusion.

"Murasa!" The hand tugged on her shirt, holding her in place. "Murasa, calm down!"

She opened her eyes, squinting against the light.

It took a moment to realize where she was. She was in her bedroom, the former captain's quarters of the palanquin ship turned Myouren Temple. The view was an unfamiliar one, though, because she was hovering near the ceiling.

Ankle-deep seawater covered the floor. Everything in sight was soaked. That included Ichirin, standing in the middle of the whole mess, still holding Murasa's shirt. Her yukata was threatening to fall off of her, too sodden to stay on.

Ichirin gently pulled Murasa down, until her feet landed in a pile of soaking pillows with a firm squish. Her arms wrapped around Murasa, pulling her into a hug, and she kissed the side of her neck. "Just relax, okay? It was a dream. Just a dream."

Murasa stared out at the flooded room with stunned detachment. "I... guess it happened again, huh?"

"That makes four times this month," Byakuren said. As usual, her voice didn't contain a trace of accusation, only concern. In some ways, that just made it worse. "Meditation hasn't helped, then?"

"I don't think so," Murasa half-fibbed. She didn't meditate quite as often as the head monk probably thought she did, but what she'd done hadn't helped at all.

"I see. That's a shame..."

Seated in front of Byakuren and Shou, Murasa couldn't quite help but think of this as a trial of sorts. Ichirin was right behind her, her moral support. And... the room's doors were all shut, but she knew that half of the temple's denizens were eavesdropping outside. She'd done it often enough herself, after all.

"I mean! The palanquin ship's meant to deal with some water now and then. You made her into a temple, but she's still a ship! It goes right down the stairs to the bilge. I'll pump it out myself, no worries there."

"There are a few leaks, actually," Shou said, with a slight clear of her throat. "Nazrin's room is right below yours, and she doesn't appreciate waking up to rain in the middle of the night."

"She's around the temple today? Oh, hey, good timing, I've been meaning to ask her about getting some supplies to patch up a few spots, and—"

"It's really obvious when you try to change the subject, you know. No offense."

Murasa sighed. "Can't blame me for trying, right?"

"We're trying to help you, Minamitsu," Byakuren said. "There's no need to try to hide things."

"Right... Look, um. I've kinda got any idea of why this is happening, but you aren't going to like it."

"I'm sure we won't hold it against you."

Murasa sighed again, and stared at the floor as she chose her words. "It's... the sea, and sinking boats, and all of that. The way I was before you rescued me. It's like it's calling me or something."

"Your nature as a youkai," Shou summarized, sympathetic.

"Right. That."

"I see. A worldly anchor, trying to pull you back to old habits. I'd chastise you, but since you've managed to resist for a thousand years, I suppose I can let this one slip." Byakuren offered the slightest smile to hint that it was a joke.

"It's not, like, a bad habit or something, you know? I might be stuck on land, but... the sea's still a part of me. It's like my leg got cut off and I can still feel it somewhere, and it's starting to get real antsy for me to come back and visit. Or maybe I'm the leg and the sea is—never mind. This metaphor really got away from me. I guess it sounds crazy either way."

"It sounds entirely reasonable, given your history. If it's part of your nature as a youkai, meditation might not be able to help." Byakuren sounded reluctant to make that admission. "But then, what would?"

"She could try sinking a boat, maybe?" Ichirin said. "It's a little extreme, but if it gets the job done..."

"An unoccupied boat," Shou quickly added. "And one that she's paid for."

"Er, well. Ehe." Murasa rubbed at the back of her neck and glanced aside. "About that..."

"Captain Murasa," Shou said, levelly. "Have you already sunk a boat lately?"

"A little one! And it was barely in a meter of water. I hauled the guy who owned it back to the shore, and I'm sure he has some sons who can drag it out or something. A victimless crime, in the big scale of things."

"We can discuss that later," Byakuren said, in a sweet voice that promised a long, long lecture to come. "If sinking a boat didn't satisfy the urge, though, we might not be able to. I'm sure that you haven't drowned any humans since this began, after all?"

"No! No drowning." Murasa sort of drooped even lower. "I promise. I really try not to, these days."

"We could try... going sailing, maybe?" Ichirin suggested. "There's that big lake behind the Moriya shrine, and Unzan could probably carry a boat up there..."

Murasa grimaced. "That isn't much of a replacement, Ichi. Sailing on a lake instead of the sea is like... I dunno, eating a cracker because you can't afford a loaf of bread."

"I really doubt the rivers would be any better, then. Where else could we try, though? They say the mansion made a fake sea one time. Maybe—"

"Well, the way I see it, you don't have to settle for an imitation." The voice, from out of nowhere, interrupted Ichirin. Only after a few seconds did the source become apparent. A lantern near the edge of the room was wobbling back and forth, like a fruit determined to shake itself free from a branch. A furry tail popped out the back, whipping back and forth in time with the swings. Finally, with one especially firm thrust, the lantern launched itself free. It fell to the ground and disappeared into a puff of smoke.

As the smoke cleared, Mamizou stepped out, stretching her back with a few crackles of protesting joints. "You wouldn't believe how much folding it takes to make yourself lantern-sized. Barely any furniture in this place bigger than a cushion. Discriminatory against tanuki, that is."

"Miss Futatsuiwa." Byakuren greeted her with a stiff nod. "I'd thank you for joining us, but it seems that you've been here all along."

"You can still thank me if you'd like, I'm not about to complain. And can't blame me for taking a little interest in this place's affairs, can you? Seeing as how we're practically on the same side and all."

"We have regular sutra-readings and lectures that are open to the public. If you want to get more involved, maybe you could start with one of those?"

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Been having some trouble sleeping lately. Now then, seems the captain has an itch for the ocean?"

"Minamitsu has been feeling drawn to it, yes. Did you have a solution in mind?"

"Could be. I'd have to noodle on it a bit." Mamizou reached for her pipe, then paused. "No smoking in here, is there?"

"I would appreciate it if you didn't."

"Makes it hard for a lady to think. So, let's see here..." Mamizou stared thoughtfully into the distance, her tail drifting back and forth behind her. "Hmm. Yeah, seems doable. Give me a day or two, we can go see the ocean in person."

A moment passed. Nobody responded.

Shou cleared her throat. "The actual ocean?"

"What I said, isn't it?"

"You're proposing to take her to the outside world?"

"Sure, why not? Ocean's maybe eight or nine hours from here, and half of that is just getting out of Gensokyo and down to the nearest city. Could do it in a single day if we hurried, but call it two if we dawdle."

"I appreciate the offer, Miss Futatsuiwa," Byakuren said, "but don't you think it would be risky? You might have experience at navigating the outside world, but Minamitsu hasn't seen it in a millennium. She might not know how to avoid giving herself away to youkai hunters, or—"

"I wouldn't worry about that. I didn't catch hide nor hair of a youkai hunter for a few decades before coming to Gensokyo, and I caused more than my fair share of trouble. A youkai hunter needs youkai to hunt after all, and that hasn't exactly been a growing business."

"There are still a lot of ways it could go wrong," Shou said.

"Look, think about it this way. Surviving the outside world's so easy that a few billion humans pull it off every day. The captain's a stout young lass, I'm sure she'll be fine. If you're that worried, that girlfriend of hers can come along too. Call her our team human expert or somesuch."

"Girl—?!" Ichirin blurted out, too slow to stop herself. "Miss Futatsuiwa, really, Murasa and I like each other, but—"

"But you keep accidentally sleeping together? Ah, I see. Go out for a nighttime stroll, next thing you know you've tripped and fallen face-first under the covers with some cute young thing. Happens all the time."

Murasa sort of shrank down, acutely aware of Byakuren's sudden gaze on them. Shou shot her a sympathetic smile. They'd sort of had an arrangement, where Shou helped cover for some of their not-so-monkish habits in exchange for the reassurance that they'd be open with her. It looked like that might grow a bit more complicated in weeks to come.

"It seems like I'm learning a lot today," Byakuren said, with the slightest sigh.

"If we didn't go for worldly pleasures now and then, we'd be bodhisattvas by now, right? Just another rock on the path to enlightenment. So anyway." Murasa attempted to shove the conversation along with all the subtlety of a cannonball. She couldn't think of anything more uncomfortable than discussing her love life with Byakuren in a room with practically half of the temple and associated hangers-on. "Going to the ocean, huh? It seems worth a shot."

"Do you think it would help, though?" Shou asked.

"It stands to reason, doesn't it? I feel like I need to go to the ocean, so if I do it, that should settle things. Even if that isn't the, er, cure, whatever's calling to me, it's related to the ocean. I don't think I'm going to find it in Gensokyo."

"See?" Mamizou said. "That settles it. Pop outside, take the kid down for a day at the beach, come back to Gensokyo a day or two later. Nobody outside this temple needs to know. Heck, might bring back a few souvenirs from the outside. Make a whole trip out of it."

Byakuren's eyes drifted shut, and she sat in silent contemplation. Finally, her head dipped in the slightest of nods. "You're right. We shouldn't let our unfounded fears cloud our judgment. If you're offering, Miss Futatsuiwa, then it sounds like this is the best option we have. I'll trust in your experience with the outside world to keep them safe."

"Nothin' to fret about, I promise. I'll have them back safe and sound before you even realize they've left." Mamizou turned to look to the two of them. "How's tomorrow morning sound?"

Shou cleared her throat. "Well, er, tomorrow is actually Murasa's turn to clean the courtyard and lead the guided meditation for—"

"Tomorrow sounds good! No time like the present, right? Or, the almost-present, I guess. The longer we wait the more I'm going to flood the temple, and that's no good for anybody. This old girl has a bit of a mildew problem at the best of times." With the topic thoroughly changed, Murasa slid out of her seated position, stretching as she rose. "Do we need to do anything to get ready?"

"Gensokyo money's no good in the outside world. Half of it's so old that they'd think you're pulling their leg. And..." Mamizou's gaze drifted over them, skeptical. "You'd stick out like a sore thumb if I took you out there in those outfits. Tell you what—leave all the prep work to me. Got an eye for outside world garb, y'see. All you two need to do is meet me outside tomorrow morning, bright and early."

"Ahhhh..." Murasa let out a long sigh of relief once they were a few meters down the hall, far enough that she could talk without much worry of Byakuren overhearing them. "That went a lot better than I was expecting. I really figured it would be more of a lecture. You know, that one where she starts off all, 'Please understand that I'm not disappointed in you, I just know that you could do better.' That one?"

"Hmmm, don't think I've heard it," Ichirin replied.

"Not even that time she found out you and Unzan had won that big barrel of booze down in the village?"

"The whole thing was the woodcutters' idea, and Nazrin was the one who started a fight with them in the first place. I was just an innocent bystander."

"That seems like pretty good profit for an 'innocent bystander' if you ask me."

"They were going to be arm-wrestling anyway. I just made it a little more interesting. Besides, I—"

Ichirin was cut off as Nue dipped down from the ceiling above them, dangling from a stairway railing by her knees. "Morning, Mi~na~mi~tsu! Heard you wet the bed again."

"I told you not to call me that!"

"Forget who you're talking to, kid? I'm the great unknown youkai. Think I'll call you whatever I want."

"Then maybe I'll call you a piss-blooded lobcock from now on."

"I'd kick your butt if I had any idea what the heck that meant."

"Try it and I'll fashion you a noose with yer own guts."

"Big words for a fish-fucker!"

"That was only the one time, and it was your mom!"

Nue sort of cringed, stifling a snicker at the retort. "Alright, I have to admit that one was pretty good. I'll let you off the hook this time." She still shot a rude gesture as she pulled herself up onto the stairway and continued toward wherever she was going.

Ichirin stared up at the spot where she'd been, sighing. "You guys really shouldn't do that, you know."

"It's Nue, you know? It's like our way of saying 'hi.'"

"Do you ever stop and think that maybe this kind of thing is why Miss Hijiri is harsher on you than me?"

"Hey, I'll have you know that I'm a model of good behavior, apart from that. So, anyway..." Murasa snagged the corner as they turned down a hallway, heading toward the living quarters. "What about the old man, though? We can't take him with us, right? Me or you can slip into new clothes and pass as a human, but I don't think they make them that pink these days."

"I'll... just have to convince him. He knows that I can take care of myself. He'll be grumpy, but I don't think he'll make a big deal about it. Maybe I'll treat it like a vacation from guarding me."

"I mean more about you. You guys haven't been apart for long in centuries, right? Are you going to be alright, spending a few days away from him? Obviously the charming company will help, but... I can see where it'd be kind of rough on you too. I guess what I'm saying is, you don't have to come along for this if you don't want to, you know? Me and Mamizou are big kids, we can make it to the sea all by ourselves, and probably nothing will happen, so—"

Ichirin tilted her head with a bit of a smirk. "What, you don't want me along?"

"No! No, it isn't anything like that."

"Good. Then I'm coming." Ichirin gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "This is a big deal for you. I want to be there, even if I can't do anything but hold your hand afterward."

"E-ehe. Well, I don't know if it's going to be all that romantic..." Reaching the door of her room, Murasa opened it with a push. "... jeez, I should probably do some cleaning before I leave."

It had only been an hour or so, and everything was still soaked. The sudden burst of water had shoved most of the room's contents up against the walls. There was still a standing puddle on the floor, tapering off out into the hallway, with a light crust of salt around its edges. The sad thing was, this had already happened a few times. She'd learned all the best ways to clean her things and air out the room.

It needed it. The air smelled like seawater.

No. Not just seawater. When people said that word, they usually meant tame little waves, lapping up against the beach. This was something more. This was water fresh from the deep sea, hundreds of meters down. Water that hadn't seen a fresh beam of sunlight in months. Probably, no human would ever be able to tell the difference, but to her, it was as clear as night and day. This water had seen a billion generations of life fight and die before the first human had ever opened their eyes. It was the world's biggest graveyard, and it would never be satisfied. It was cold. It was dark. It was hostile to these feeble creatures of the surface, with their barely-pressurized bodies and their flimsy lungs.

It wanted nothing more than to drag them down and crush the life out of them.

It would be beautiful. She could imagine somebody twitching through their last through convulsions in her hands, bubbles slipping from their mouth as barely-visible distortions in the darkness, the warmth seeping out from their body and—

Ichirin was pinching her nose.

"Ow, hey, what's that about?!" Murasa recoiled, rubbing it.

"You were staring at the water and sort of... zoning out. Like this morning."

"I guess I was, huh..."

Murasa poked at the puddle of water with the tip of her foot. It was, once again, just water. She'd felt it, though. Like an anchor, trying to drag her away from all of this and back down into the sea. And she'd slipped into it so easily. She hadn't even noticed. If Ichirin hadn't been here...

Actually, no. Some of the worst-case scenarios involved Ichirin.

Ichirin slipped an arm behind her back, half-supporting her and trying to hide her concern. "You're sure you're okay? Mamizou said that it would only take eight hours to get to the ocean. Maybe if we left now and hurried—"

"No, no, I'm fine." Ichirin didn't believe her, she could tell. So, she repeated, "I'm fine, okay? Just a little momentary relapse or something. … look, I'll sleep outside tonight, so if this happens again then the water will just, I don't know, end up in the garden or something."

"The water isn't what I was worried about."

"I'll be fine Ichi, okay? In a day or two we'll be at the ocean and we'll feel silly we ever made a big deal about this. Here." She shuffled through the puddle, over to the corner of the room. The flood earlier had knocked down a nightstand, and now she righted it and slipped the drawer open. It was stuffed, but the contents were carefully arranged—prayer beads and books of sutras in the front, with the contents behind them sorted based on how much she wanted to hide them from the temple's authority figures. All the way in the back was a fist-sized bottle, which she carefully extracted. After giving it a single longing glance, she chucked it over to Ichirin. "Take that."

Ichirin snatched the flask out of the air, then held it up, swishing the amber contents around in the light. "What is it?"

"It's whiskey. Really strong stuff, probably older than any human in Gensokyo. I won it in a game of cards a while back. Give it to the old man, okay? As, like... my apology or whatever, for taking you away for a few days."

Ichirin undid the cap and took a sniff, then recoiled. "Ew. I'll leave it for him, I think. I bet he'll appreciate it, but... are you sure? This stuff has to be expensive."

"Hey, look. There isn't anything I can really give you as thanks, so... you know. It's the best I can do."

"I can think of a few things." Ichirin slipped the flask away, and it disappeared into her robe. "I'm going to go talk with him though, I think. Try to relax, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you later. Love you."

"Love you too." Ichirin blew a kiss before stepping away from the door.

With a sigh, Murasa turned and started hauling her waterlogged belongings out of the seawater, trying to ignore the memories it was trying to tug to the surface.