This is short, because it's an introduction, but I hope you'll like it; it's been an idea in my head for EVER, and I recently got the drive to write it. (Thank you, Sonanoka21093.)

Four people, whom you could call young ladies by appearance, sat around a kotatsu on a cold, winter day.

One clad in her pajamas, having just awoken to two of the others visiting her shrine in the early afternoon. Reimu Hakurei refused to move more than five feet; she reached sleepily to the bowl of mikan in the center of their circle.

Sitting directly to her left, greedily devouring the tangerines that nearly symbolized the coming of winter, was a black-white clad magician, her witch's hat thrown unceremoniously on the floor behind her.

Another, her silver braids swinging with the motion of her turning head, gazing through the rice paper screens at the shining snow, kept one hand by her lady's back, ready to serve.

Her lady. Me.

The topic of conversation was laid-back and relaxing, fitting the mood of the current situation quite nicely. Like a bowl of mikan on a kotatsu.

"It's such a shame you couldn't bring the other one… Erm, your sister…" Marisa pondered, scratching her messy hat-head as she eyed the side of the kotatsu that remained unoccupied.

"Flandre," I said, with a smile.

Reimu actually sat up at the sound of my sister's name. "Ohohoho, no way. China and Patchouli better be keeping her well entertained back at the SDM because I am not letting that kid into my shrine, nu-uh. Said that to her when I met her."

Sakuya scoffed. "Reimu, dear, don't pretend as if you met under very good circumstances."

At this, Marisa giggled. "Are there actually good circumstances under which to meet her? When she's feeling so congenial that she'll only detonate thirty percent of your body mass?"

The two humans at the other side of the kotatsu erupted with laughter, and I, the look on my face a bit worse than peeved, was only less comforted by the laughter Sakuya was fighting to stifle.

"Good Kami, Remi-san, why do you even put up with her anyway? Why does anyone in your house put up with her, Sakuya do you actually feed her? Are you two even seriously, related? Like, by blood? I mean, good Shinto gods excuse me, but, like, your hair is blue." With this, Reimu only fell backwards with more laughter, apparently unable to sense my unamusement.

"Technically, no, we are not related, but asking if we're related by blood is a redundant question to ask a vampire," I answered, patiently.

"Yeah, Remi's got the blood of half of Gensokyo," Marisa interrupted.

I continued unfazed. "To answer your other question, Reimu, I do not just tolerate my sister's difficulty in handling, but I take great pleasure in it. Not only do I owe it to her, I love her very much."

"Then why is she in the basement? No, better question, why has she been there for, like, 400 years?" Marisa asked, her tone suddenly growing more serious the weight of her words shaking the room into silence.

What was an unplanned tea party in the shrine now had three out of four beings feeling as though they were hanging off a precipice on a thread waiting for an answer. I looked up at Sakuya to see her staring at her shoes.

I sat back, and instructed my maid and friend to take a seat. Now was the time to get comfortable. I took a deep breath and looked Marisa in the eye.

"She wasn't always like this."