Author's note/disclaimer: Wrote this piece for a contest. Didn't win, but didn't exactly lose, either. Response more of an overwhelming "meh" on the side of "s'alright". Touhou was everything'd by Team Shanghai Alice, obviously.
She comes to see him in a year. He does not remember which it is anymore. They say it is Meiji 18 and they say it is 1885 and one begins to sound as well as the other.
You've grown a few grey hairs, she says.
He pretends to laughs.
Once upon a time, there was a youkai who opened a doorway to the moon. She promised conquest and promised power.
He wanted neither, but he followed her anyway. She was just that kind of person, even if she wasn't a person at all.
I didn't think I would see you again, he says. He is sitting on the veranda, and so is she. The door is open behind him. He would rather it be shut.
Last I heard, he says, there was that idea about a barrier. Is that going well?
Well, there are the difficulties, but well enough, she says. Actually, that's why I'm here.
Oh? Is there something I can do to help?
There is nothing he can do to help, and he knows this. She knows he knows this.
She smiles.
It's time, she says.
When he was younger but still old, he split a tree in half, up the trunk. It was easy. He pressed his thumb against the bark and the bark gave away first.
He says, I've been thinking about this for a while.
He finds the old bottle, the one he has saved for a reason to save a bottle. She waits on the veranda and he does not shut the door behind him.
Do you remember, he says, when you led us all to the moon? The speech you gave? We all thought we would win. You made us certain of it.
But not you.
Not me, he admits. But you made me certain I could be certain, even if I wasn't. I'm sure it was like that for a lot of us.
Not as much as you'd think, she says, and she drinks and smiles, and he drinks and smiles. He drinks less than she drinks, and notices her noticing.
They are building wires in Tokyo and Edo. They are taking miracles and putting them into boxes. He reads the small newspapers and sorts them, one pile to keep and one pile to throw away.
Someday he will decide which is which.
You didn't have to go out of your way for me, he says.
I'm not, she says. I had a few errands to run in the area, so I thought I'd see you in myself. Consider it a gesture between friends.
They have never been friends, and have never been enemies. He watches her put the bottle on the veranda and stand, and do more than stand.
Well, she says, shall we go?
Her feet do not touch the ground. He hasn't flown for the longest time.
The day before yesterday, he strained his back lifting wood.
I think I'm going to stay a while longer, he says.
Her hand is still stretched out to him. There isn't any more time, she says. The barrier will be closed, soon. If you hurry, you might just make it in.
Wouldn't that be exciting? she asks.
Once upon a time, he was young.
Somebody needs to keep an eye on the outside. There's been a lot of interesting things happening lately.
Any action to break through the barrier from the outside after it closes will be dealt with harshly, she says. She is no longer smiling. Even I won't interfere. There won't be another chance.
You're probably right, he says.
You've grown a few new wrinkles since last I saw you, she says. A few new grey hairs.
She's probably right.
He looks at her until the hand falls away.
I suppose this is goodbye, then, she says. She is smiling again.
Yes, he says. Goodbye, and good luck.
The world opens behind her, and closes, and she is gone.
The bottle is almost empty. He takes it inside, to finish before he goes to bed.
He closes the door very carefully. His daughter is a light sleeper.