Eternal Winter Incident. Last Day.
All was quiet. A subdued silence, all sound lost in the layers of snow that gathered in the village streets. There was no wind to whistle through the plains, no animals to skip about and chatter atop the open space. A pure white landscape expanded as far as the eye could see, the horizon broken by smooth rolling hills and the bare trees of surrounding forests. Above the night skies dark clouds gathered, obstructing the heavens above while a gentle white frost fell to the earth. It piled into the streets of the Human Village. Snow covered the roofs and gathered around the walls of each home until each building looked like they were buried in the icing of a cake.
It had been snowing for 7 months now, the world stuck in an eternal winter. A constant drizzle of sparkling white. The fields beyond the village walls have long been abandoned, for nothing grew in the stifling cold.
From the North a human figure made its way through the outskirts of the Human village. The man was different from the normal round of travelers, for he walked instead of flew. Up and down the hills of snow, he struggled with each step, breathing deep with the effort of his own slow pace.
Soon the black sky became tinted blue in the twilight hours of the morning. A crimson red line swelled through the horizon, a layer of solid orange behind it. Minutes later both colors faded as yellow rays broke through the lines and reached out across the sky. The black of night transitioned to a comforting clear blue, and warmth spread into the winter air like a thin blanket.
A sign that the eternal winter had ended, though the old man had no way of knowing that.
The ragged old man pushed his legs through the virgin frost. Footprints and crushed ice trailed behind him like the steps to a dance. Hot vapors from his breath bounced off the red scarf curled around his neck and drifted across the underside of his black hat. He did not shake in the cold, nor flinch at the chilled wind that periodically bit into his flesh. He wore brown khaki pants and black snow boots, both hands in the pockets of his black overcoat. Thin strands of country blonde hair draped out below his hat.
The old man wearing modern clothes shook his head at the outdated Japanese homes around him.
Each of the wooden homes had gaps in the walls for ventilation during the scalding hot summers. Constructed for the heat and humidity, they were ill-equipped for the winter wind. The man knew even in this calm morning the families inside were huddled together in their thickest covers, all of them forced to concentrate their magic into their homes, straining themselves on the thin layer of energy keeping away the cold.
He trudged through the snow towards his own yellow brick house. The rising dawn beamed upon the sign above his door, reflecting off bold green letters reading "Kirisame Workshop" fitted into the panel. His house, made of brick and mortar, mirrored the modern homes of the Real World that existed outside Gensokyo's borders. His house had insulation, built to withstand both the heat of summer and the cold of winter. Thin slivers of smoke billowed out from the chimney above the roof, melting the falling snow on the way up.
Old Man Kirisame was not a Gensokyo native. He had no magic. But even with such a handicap, he still knew how to survive.
With each he step he watched the smoke rise into the sky, and wondered if whether in the next moment... or perhaps the next... he'd see his daughter again. He imagined her smile, her blonde hair whipping past her face while she blitzed past him on her magic broom. Blue-white stars would trail behind her flight path, shining bright even in the morning sun. In Gensokyo, everyone's magic looked different depending on the person. And Marisa's magic looked like stars... Stars that were just like her mother's... Both of them gone from his life. The old man teared up, and he brought his head down so that only his mouth were visible beneath the brim of his hat.
"Where did you go, my little girl? I miss you… Please come home... I'm tired... of visiting her grave without you."
He pushed on, through the snow, through the cold. His thoughts drifted into the recesses of his memory. Marisa had loved magic. And he had tried to tear her away from it.
The old man breathed a shaky sigh. He was in front of his home now, twisting the key into the lock and opening the front door. But he stopped before crossing the threshold. He looked up as three figures descended from the sky and lighted on the street a few houses away. They didn't fly so much as floated down, their bodies standing straight up, not bothering to streamline themselves against the wind.
All three shared the same short height and skinny build. Their outfits were uniform, though each with a different color. Knee length skirt, vest over white undershirt. Color coded in either red, black, or white. They had their backs turned to him, facing each other and talking among themselves.
The old man saw through them. Semi-transparent skin and clothes. Breath invisible in the winter air. Weightless steps that left no imprint on the snow. Those girls were ghosts. Dead spirits still tied to the world of the living. And an uncanny sensation shook his bones as he realized one of them resembled his lost daughter. Blond hair, black clothes.
The man stared past the doorway of his house, then stared down. That wasn't Marisa. There was no way that was her. Too skinny. Too short.
At that moment a sound shook across the frosted streets of the Human Village. Layers of snow shook and fell from the rooftops, piling onto the old man's head and shoulders and settling onto his hat. A strumming of strings out of tune grated against his hears. His face scrunched up, shoulders tensing with the uncomfortable racket. Then came the sound like a dying fat horse, wheezy and choking. The old man scowled at the irritating noise and turned away from his door. He tread further down the block, his face a steely grimace as he dragged himself through the open snow.
Soon the harsh noises ended, replaced by the disappointed groans of the ghostly trio six houses down.
"Man! What a bust! We should be playing in front of a banquet right now!" Said the ghost in white. Her wavy silver hair and pale skin almost camouflaged her against the snowy backdrop.
The girl in black spoke in a melancholy voice, calm and morose. Her straight, chin-length blonde hair giving her a plain, straightforward appearance.
"Merlin, it was your fault we had to come back here in the first place. Remind me again why you started shooting at them?"
"I thought we were getting mugged! A flying maid pulled a knife out on me! How was I supposed to react, Lanusa?"
"We GOT mugged because you challenged her! They beat the tar out of us and stole all our cash!" Lanusa gave heavy sigh, one hand on her head, before turning to the brown-haired girl in red clothes.
"At least Lyrica finally made a friend. Though how that happened with everyone trying to kill each other is beyond me."
The girl in red spoke with a wide grin, eyes nearly closing to give her smile a devilish appearance.
"Did you guys see how that witched zipped around so fast! She was so cool! And not only that but did you hear the music we were busting out on the spot? So awesome! Who knew we could jam so hard we could literally fight people with the power of song!?"
Merlin crossed her arms.
"She beat us up and stole our money. Not as awesome as you think."
"Well, maybe someday those girls will think about the music we played and become fans!"
"Again, judging by the beat down I'd say no."
Lanusa ignored her bickering sisters and placed a damaged violin beneath her chin. With steady hands she drew the bow across its strings. It sounded like a dying squirrel.
"Girls… I don't think we'll be able to play anymore like this."
Lyrica did the same, her burnt keyboard floating at a comfortable height. Fingers struck at the white piano keys, but no sound came from the broken strings.
The old man drew closer to the noise. Through the off key tune came the melody of an old song he used to listen to on the outskirts of town. It was fast and grand, a tune that fit both a chaotic battle and a synchronized dance. It was a melody he had loved and listened to long ago.
When he reached the ramshackle band they had given up on playing the song and groaned again at their broken instruments.
It was obvious these girls had a fight with people with three different kinds of magic. The violin had pieces missing, chunks blown off by either an explosive force or rounded holes as though shot through with massive needles. Lyrica had her clothes blackened and charred, the keyboard twisted and misshapen by a form of intense heat. Merlin's trumpet was cut in two, a clean swing by a precise blade. And still they three struggled to play their instruments despite the damage. Each instrument floated in the air, pieces barely held together by their ghostly power.
The trio let out a collective sigh.
"Well, what're we going to do now?"
"Classic catch-22, we need to play music to make money. Can't play music unless we get money to repair our stuff."
Behind them, Mr. Kirsame smiled. In the last few years he had hired someone new to help him run the shop. That boy would always read books on his free time, pining away at some new fact about Gensokyo that was of no relevance to a powerless man. And yet from that boy's books he recognized the girls now. They were the Prismriver sisters. The ghostly musician trio.
And old man Kirisame spoke. His voice was low and gruff a kind of voice that brought images of dry plains and ice-cold beer into the listener.
"I wouldn't even bother holding on to those if I were you. You girls trying to make music? Or do you think you can scare away the winter spirits with that god-awful racket? It sounds like a stuck pig being run over by a horse-drawn carriage. Repeatedly. By the same carriage."
They turned to see the old man scowling down at them. His tall frame and black coat giving a deathly appearance. Their eyes went wide, until Merlin broke the tension.
"Nice mustache."
The bushy facial hair twitched side to side, and he glanced at Lanusa. Kirisame looked at her the way someone tries to discern a mirage or an illusion. A moment passed before he blinked and regarded them as a group.
"Your music right now is like the sound of a whale choking on a fifty pound cactus. It's like the sound of a tree falling on a coop of chickens, and the tree was caked in feces. It's bad, is what I'm saying."
Merlin and Lanusa stared with blank eyes and dropped jaws. Lyrica looked to bother her sisters and scratched her head asking "What's a cactus?"
The old man turned to blonde once more. He pressed lips pressed together, serving to make his scowl and bushy moustache more prominent on his face. Again there was an intimidating aura about him, but in his expression came a sadness, or a remembrance as if his mind were trailing away at that very moment.
"You have the same style as my daughter."
Lyrica and Merlin turned to Lanusa, before turning back to the man.
He had already walked away, body unflinching to the cold, vaporous breath gathering up and rising behind his red scarf. His clothes rose against the gentler winter breeze, though the chill had no effect on the three musicians. Their clothes did not flap, their hair did not move. Smoke didn't rise from their breath, for they did not need to breath.
"Wait! Sir!" Lyrica called out. The old man stopped and looked back. Again there was that steely gaze, and the girl cowered back a little. He said nothing, only waited for her to get her bearings back.
"S-sir. The person you recognized. We may have seen her too. We met someone…."
Lanusa hissed out.
"Lyrica! What do you think you're doing? Isn't it obvious he's a weirdo?"
The old geezer scoffed. The girl in red raised her hand for her sister to keep quiet.
"Black and white clothes? Blonde hair?"
He didn't reply, but turned to square himself up to the ghostly trio. Lyrica continued.
"A small braid at the side of her head, tied to a red ribbon?"
And with that his gaze softened. The vapor trails from his mouth and nose became uneven, his weight shifting from one foot to the other.
"Was...was she riding on a broom, and wore a big witches hat?"
Lyrica grinned and nodded her head.
"Yes! That's her!"
"Where!? When!?"
He drew closer to them, his tall figure bearing down on their young forms. Because this was a man, surely he had no magic powers. Yet there was still a terrifying aura about him.
The old man waited for a few seconds, before yelling out in a voice that shook the snow off some of the houses.
"Well!? Out with it girl!"
Merlin was the one who spoke next.
"W-we saw her at the entrance to Hakugyokurou. At the door to the land of the dead. She flew into it, while we stayed outside."
He let out another breath, his face frozen. Expressionless beside that strange eternal scowl. He shook his head, smiling.
"You girls are playing a sick joke on me."
"We're being honest. That's where we saw her."
"And what was she doing there huh? There's no way she's dead. No way…." He turned to the side, wincing while his shoulders tensed up.
"You girls are mistaken. You must have a different girl in mind."
"She shot a rainbow colored lazer at us."
The old man looked to the ground. Prominent wrinkles on his face gave him a rickety, broken appearance. What was once a hard, steely wall of contempt now shuddered with an overwhelming mix of anger and despair. He blinked once and looked away again. He squinted into the horizon, voice cracking.
"That damn girl.. I've always known she'd go off doing something stupid and dangerous… and now… Damnit… Damnit it was my fault! I… I…"
He sniffed once, wincing and breathing hard as though trying to fight back tears.
Merlin smirked.
"Hey come on. We never said she was dead."
"What the hell do you mean by that!?"
His bark intimidated them again for several seconds, and they had to stop once more. Merlin spoke again, voice shaky but still keeping that smart-aleck tone.
"W-What, you didn't know? You can pretty much go into the land of the dead whenever you want to. All you gotta do is fly across a giant lake and over the barrier."
He looked each girl across the face before settling back to Merlin.
"So she's not dead?"
Lanusa crossed her arms.
"No. Not really. She could be enjoying herself at the Death Queen's banquet right about now."
"...Death Queen...?"
Lyrica brought herself forward in a leap that ended up being a slow floating motion.
"Yeap! Yuyuko Saigyouji. The woman who can kill anyone she wants just by thinking of killing them."
Merlin glanced upwards while rubbing her chin.
"When you think about it, why even bother having a barrier when anybody can fly over it. And for that matter, were we even going to get paid after our performance? What were we going to get paid in anyway?"
"Queem of the dead so...Souls I guess?" Said Lyrica
Lanusa scowled at the thought.
"...and why would we want those?"
"I thought we were just doin that gig for the publicity."
"Publicity...from GHOSTS? Who's bright idea was that!?"
Lyrica's transparent form spazzed up and down in jerking motions.
"Think about it! It's perfect! Ghosts haunt people right? So if we were to perform for them, then all the ghosts would be like 'ooooohhhh... youuuuu...should listen to the prismriiiveeerrrsss oooooohhhh"
Lanusa crossed her arms and furrowed her brow.
"You guys are idiots."
Merlin snickered with an open mouth.
"Well maybe Yuyuko really is loaded with cash. She has a bodyguard right? She must pay the bodyguard something."
They continued to talk amongst themselves, ignoring the old geezer.
Mr. Krisame turned away. His ahead lifted to the sky once more, and he watched the snow continue to fall from the clouds. The sunrise was almost complete, and the warm yellow lined the grey sky in a dash of heavenly light.
Marisa had dove into a world of magic, where logic and law had no place. And he tried so hard to keep her away. And yet...wasn't that same world of magic the reason he fell in love with her mother? Again came the image of the three of them standing at the top of the biggest hill in the Gensokyo Plains. How the wind would bring about warm and cold air alike on random intervals, how they would stare up at the ever changing sky. And every so often Mima would shoot up a star that lit up the clouds.
When Mima died, he became selfish. Stupid. Blinded by grief.
"She was my daughter." His voice came out barely more than a whisper. The sound became lost against snowy landscape. Yet the girls still heard him. They turned to him, watching his face shift between memory and grief.
"She's my family. And…" He hesistated, the words stuck in his throat.
"And…" He tried again, but couldn't voice his thoughts. Years of worry and anguish was impossible to express in simple words.
"You want to see her again." Lanusa's voice was quiet, soft. Merlin raised her forehead in panic.
"Oh shit! If that's the case then her visiting the netherworld is actually really ba-"
A snowball rose from the ground and hit Merlin square in the face. She turned and glared at Lanusa, who ignored her sister and looked to the old man before them.
"We've been looking for our family too. We have a sister. The fourth one in our band. That's why we need to keep playing, no matter what. Our magic comes from our music, and we're sure she'll recognize us once she hears our songs."
He squinted at them, body relaxing but struggling to keep his steely demeanor. Lanus continued speaking.
"Your daughter, she didn't go into that place alone. There were two others alongside her. One of them had silver hair and was armed to the teeth with all sorts of knives. But the other wore red and white clothes and conjured up magical barriers and shot talismans at us."
"Red and white clothes. A Hakurei Miko." The old man breathed the words with an air of familiarity.
"Yeah! She looked like a miko. Though not exactly wearing the traditional garb."
His composure became more relaxed. A slight lean back, shifting his weight easily while a light smile hid behind his thick moustache. They all noted this change, and grinned wide.
"So yeah. She's totally fine! Maybe she's partying it up with the Queen right now!"
Merlin pursed her lips to one side.
"Well I mean, she'd also be having a BETTER time if we were performing for them. With our instruments. That she destroyed. But whatever."
The old man's arms swung around, cupping behind his back and giving him a look of whole concentration.
"How about I replace those instruments for you? I can't repair them, it's way too late for that. But I can make new ones for you at my workshop. Free of charge."
They looked to each other. For a moment, Lyrica was overjoyed, round face spread into a wide-eyed open mouthed grin. Then it disappeared, her expression one of sadness.
"But sir…. We have no money. We can't pay you back."
The old man held up a hand and shook his head once.
"Consider it repayment for my daughter's roughness. I can tell those things were precious to you."
Lyrica blinked
"That's kind of you sir. But you don't even know our names."
He smiled then. A soft, comforting smile. It was if the winter landscape around them had ceased to exist.
"Oh. I already know who you are. I've heard your music before. That is, when it didn't sound like you were stringing up a dead mule."
Mr. Kirisame's home had a simple, yet natural look to it. A solid brick square painted a dark yellow. A triangular, dark brown roofing and white stone walkway. Behind the house lay the remains of a verdant garden, the shriveled remains of flora still poking out above the frost. Each Prismriver imagined red and blue flowers with vines that traveled along wooden rafters staked into the grass. Apple and peach trees lining the back fence. At the front of the house cracks zigzagged through the letters of "Kirisame Shop", yet the sign still shined in the sunlight.
The door opened with a creak, and the man walked in. He stopped past the doorway, leaning back and looking at the boy stoking the fireplace at the far end of the hall.
"Oh? Why are you here boy? I told you to take time off until this cold front to ends."
"Mr. Kirisame, you remember that I live in a tent right? This is the best place for me to be in this kind of weather."
With the old man between them, the girls and the boy took a moment to size each other up. The boy wore blue pants and a black shirt. His thick brown coat looked the same as Mr. Kirisame's black one, though white fur lined his collar. He had short, tousled black hair with bangs parted toward the left side of his face. The boy smiled at them, blue eyes prominent against the glimmer of the fireplace behind him.
Mr. Kirisame turned to the side and held out one hand toward his home.
"Hmph. Well. Since you're here you might as well work. Asa, these are the prismriver sisters. They'll be our clients for today. Prismrivers, this is Kazehira Asa. He's helped me run this place for the last few years."
They listened to the soft taps of the boy's shoes against the brick floor. They were light and quick, a far cry from the heavy thunks of Mr. Kirisame. The boy rose and brought his hand out toward them while the old man took off his gloves and warmed himself near the fireplace.
"It's a pleasure. I've never met ghosts before. Have a seat anywhere you like, and we'll take care of you."
All three of them looked at his outstretched hand, then to each other. A moment of hesitation before they reached over and grabbed it all at once. They looked over and saw his body grow pale, then for the the color to return as he shivered a little. As for themselves, their transparent bodies became bright, and they smiled at each other.
Asa noted their reactions and frowned. His expression became serious, brow furrowed, eyebrows curved inward in pity.
"You girls...died recently haven't you?"
Lanusa held up her hand to her face, focusing on what remained of the sensation of his touch. Merlin looked down to the ground. Lyrica watched the old man get up from his chair and walk over to their floating instruments with heavy steps.
"What happened? If you don't mind me asking." Said Asa.
The old man spoke above the crackling of the fireplace, his gruff voice, intimidating outside, now held a warmth when in his home. He was a like an aged, blonde bear.
"I've told you this before, Asa. No personal questions. If they want to tell their life story, then they'll volunteer it when they're ready. What matters is that they're musicians who want their instruments fixed. So let's fix them."
Asa nodded and sighed, before turning to each of them.
"Alright. We're not magic users, so it may take a long while. Please, make yourself at home while we work."
A snicker escaped from Merlin's mouth.
"We're ghosts. We're already as comfortable as physically possible."
Yet still, they sat upon the chairs next to the fireplace. They learned their heads back, ethereal hair and body melding into the fur pelts.
It came as surprise to them how neat and tidy the old man's home was. Marisa, with her unkempt clothes had given them the impression that the slobbishness ran in the family. Tough brick walls and wood flooring, but looking up they could tell there had used to be damage on the tile ceiling. There was uneven circular patch where bits of the roofing had blown outward. Tile and mortar had been patched over it, bt the damage was still obvious. Kirisame motioned to them, and pointed at the patch on the roof.
"That was the last time I saw my daughter. Many years ago. Decent patchwork on the roof, but I never could erase the damage."
Asa frowned.
"You should have it restored for real, boss. Hire someone with magic."
Through the crackling of the fireplace, the scratching of wood, the old man's voice rose in an uncharacteristic, soft tone.
"I'll fix it when I see my daughter again. This roof, this home, is all that's left of my family. And to move on from that? Heh. I'd just have an easier time moving to a new house. No thanks Asa. Memories are all I have. And I'll hang on to them, always."
"The neighbors like to complain about it being an eyesore."
"Let them complain. Not all memories are happy. Not all misfortunes are sad. Sadness is ugly, so people don't like looking at it. As far as memories are concerned, we still try to keep them all regardless."
Each girl took a seat near the fireplace. Saws and hammers hung from the walls on leather pouches. Glass and wooden furniture across wooden floorboards. Fur pelts lined the sturdy sofa chairs on which they sat.
Soon their eyes settled on the framed photo of the old man, and they recognized the blonde witch that attacked them. The family in the photo was much younger. No wrinkles on the man's face, the girl's body shorter and immature. But most striking of all was the red-headed woman, a cheerful grin that spread as wide as her face would allow.
Lyrica giggled.
"Who's that? She's pretty."
Asa stopped for a moment to look at his boss, but Mr. Kirisame never missed a beat with his work. Done with carving out a new violin, he and the boy moved to larger pieces of wood for the keyboard.
"She was my wife. And she was the strongest in Gensokyo. Gone now."
Scratches on the wooden boards became more distinct while the old man's voice trailed off. Each of the three ghosts occupied the three chairs near the fireplace. Three chairs that once held a happy family, now missing from this house.
Lanusa squinted at the girl in the middle, her eyes bright while she clasped her parent's hands in her's. Black and white clothes, blonde hair. No wonder this old man had mistaken her for his daughter.
In her imagination, the old man sat alone with nothing but the emptiness to accompany him. Though she was already dead, Lanusa felt like someone had punched her in the gut. The others felt the same, their expressions turning somber and subdued with each passing second. When she spoke, her voice cracked, and her sisters turned toward her.
"We lost someone too. Our sister."
"Layla Prismriver. A woman with one of the sweetest voice I've ever heard."
The Prismrivers all turned to him, eyes wide.
"You knew our sister?"
"Yes I did. But only through her singing."
There was the sound of wooden being laid flat on the table, before the twangs of strings tied into place to form the interior of a keyboard. Even while talking the two men worked tirelessly, both chipping and carving to their own individual rhythms.
Even with their ghostly forms the Prismrivers could still feel the warmth of the fireplace, hear the cracking and scratching of wood. The old man's eyes locked in concentration as he carved out a brand new instrument. The boy held the pieces of wood in place. Or he'd leave off and start his own. All three prism rivers gazed transfixed at the slow and delicate process in which they created a new violin. Each hand movement was slow, deliberate, masters carving away at their material. And while they watched, they listened.
All things in movement had a rhythm. Patterns. A rise and fall dictated by the natural world. Every living thing had it. Rising and falling. Each movement a beating of their heart. And if they listened, they could understand a person's whole life in the moment between each breath, like a song that plays until their death, transient and beautiful and unique.
And the Prismrivers looked to each other, and wondered where their sister Layla could be. They wanted to listen to her voice once more, to play their instruments while she sung, to have their magic envelop their old home as it once did years ago. Only then could they allow themselves to fade into silence.
And the old man's voice spoke again, mixing into the ambience as though he and the crackling fireplace were part of the same harmony.
"After my wife, Mima, died. And after my daughter, Marisa, left me… Often I would leave the house and just stand in the fields, watching the sunrise. Same spot. Every day, wishing I hadn't done what I did. During those times, when my heart couldn't sink any lower, there was your sister… Her voice. Her music, pulling me back up."
He sighed and finished the keyboard. Asa grabbed it and placed it next to the finished violin on another table. Merlin spoke fast, excitement and impatience in her voice.
"Have you seen her recently? Do you think you might know where she is?"
"No. At this point I'm not even sure if she was real. Sometimes I wonder if she was just a figment of my imagination. Or maybe even…"
"A ghost?"
He said nothing, but trudged over into the next room. A few moments passed before he came out again, holding a shining gold trumpet in his hand. Merlin took it, and inspected the craftsmanship.
Asa peered at each of the girl's transparent forms.
"Is that why you three haven't passed on?"
Lanusa scowled, eyes focusing downward.
"We still don't know how we died. We have no memory of what happened. But we think Layla might have the answers we're looking for. We actually hoped to meet her in the netherworld, in case she was dead too. But now we won't know for sure."
Lyrica's chipper tone was mismatched against Lanusa's somber voice.
"Whether alive or dead, we want to see her before we settle into the next world. Our magic is woven into our music. If she hears us, then it's guaranteed that she'll recognize us. If we become famous someday, then there's no way we won't find her!"
Merlin chided in next.
"It's always been our dream to make it big and play in front of a massive audience. It's rather comforting that the dream doesn't die just because our bodies do."
For the first time, the old man laughed. It was a low, rumbling howl that was just silly enough to bring a smile to everyone's faces.
"If you'll excuse the pun, I believe we may be kindred spirits. We all have something we lost and hold dear."
Beside the fireplace, the three ghosts smiled. Asa squinted at them, unsure if he was about to say something wrong.
"We should celebrate this occasion… but uh… Do ghosts eat?"
"Yes we do, actually."
"How… how does that work?"
All three girls shrugged.
"No clue."
Outside the sun was bright against the sky. And the clouds that blanketed the horizon shifted and dissipated against an East wind. There was a warmth outside now, and outside the windows the Prismrivers could see the entire landscape light up from the sun's reflection. It was though all of Gensokyo floated on a river of gold and silver. Heaven on earth in just one moment. And in the next moment, a leaf sprouted from one of the dead trees outside. Spring had returned, and the people once holded up in their houses opend their doors to bask in hour between spring and winter.
Then they became sad, eyes down, though they still kept their smile.
"But we can't stay. We need to be out there, working hard to show people our talents. To bring them happiness, just like how Layla did. It's part of our own special magic."
Both Asa and Mr. Kirsame smiled back, fists up in the air like toast with invisible glass.
"Well then play on, Prismriver sisters. And with these, consider my daughter's debt repaid."
Each instrument lifted off the table and floated to the ghostly trio. Although their instruments were brand new, there was already a familiarity and comfort attached to them. And they looked to each other and nodded.
All three girls mimed playing the instruments, fingers wiggling in the air. And though they no hands touched them, the violin, keyboard, and trumpet all played. The sounds were pure, the vibrations giving a strange shimmer of color and levity throughout Kirisame's home. And the old man smiled, tears barely held back while he looked around his house.
"Yes. That song. One of the same ones she sang back then too."
Soon the song ended, the noise fading out not with volume but with distance. The magic, and the song, never ending, but instead floating away through the air.
Asa smiled, blue eyes staring into the girl's.
"It's beautiful. But I've never seen or heard Layla. Let me hear it again after you find her."
Lyrica, Lanusa, and Merlin blushed for a second. Then they looked to each other and grinned, before curtseying to their audience. Merlin looked to the two with her usual smirk.
"Not to sound too cocky, but we're the greatest musicians in Gensokyo. It's only a matter of time until we do."
Lyrica shouted with the eagerness of a young child.
"And when we do, you'll know it! We'll hold massive concerts, with bright lights and fireworks! And maybe the audience will have glow sticks too, and they'll wave them around at night while we play and it'll be so cool!"
Lanusa put her hands behind her back, fidgeting with one foot dragging her toes on the floor.
"And the more we're known, the more likely Layla will be the one to find us. At long last, we'll be together again."
Asa pumped his fist, his own excited grin matching Lyrica's.
"And we'll be there to cheer you on!"
The Prismrivers looked to each other, then looked at the two men before them. Lanus floated to the middle, staring at Mr. Kirisame.
"Mind if I ask you something sir? If you could see your daughter again. What would you say to her."
A few seconds of silence as Mr. Kirisame's thoughts drifted to worlds unknown. He blinked, and grinned wide. A heavy tear fell down his cheek. He did not wipe it away.
"If I could.. I would tell her to please come home. Just for a little while. Just long enough me to talk about how I always hear the villagers cheering when they see her flying across the sky. I want her to stay just long enough for me to tell her how everyday I would read the newspaper, and learn about how she helped save the world. Long enough for me to tell her I'm sorry. That I never meant to hurt her. And... and that I'm proud of her. I'm oh so proud of her... and that I love her with all my heart. That every time I hear of her...she...she reminds me so much of her mother. That she is just like her mother. And that I miss her everyday. I miss them both."
Asa, the Prismrivers, all of them felt their heart sink at the old man's words. Merlin started tear up, her head hanging low while she looked away and wiped her eyes. Then all three of them floated up the man and embraced him. Mr. Kirisame looks at them in shock, then at Asa as if needing to confirm what was happening. All three girls were ghosts, so he expected them to be ice cold. But their bodies were real, tangible. Their grips were light, feather weights leaning into him. He hugged them back, and he breathes out with a trembling breath.
"I'm sorry girls. I'm just an old man prattling on. I don't mean to bother you."
"It's nothing sir!"
They all let go, and Lanusa drifted over to two small, left over pieces of wood on their work table. Violin strings above rubbed up against its bow, and one long, pure, high pitched note rang out across the old man's home. The keyboard and trumpet joined in, until the house was filled with noise once more.
Magic burned itself into both pieces of wood. Lines curved and welded into the bark like flame on steel, until cursive letters form into the panel. A moment later and both wooden pieces contained each of their signatures. Lyrica grabbed both and hands it to the old man, a smile on her face.
"Consider that a free pass to our live show!"
"Live...show?"
"Yeah. If we ever make it big and get to play on stage instead of in the streets, you'll be a VIP, able to get in free of charge!"
The man's eyes light. Color flooded into his face and he gave a smile that reached from ear to ear.
"No. Now I'm the one saying this is too kind. I can't possibly..."
Asa raised an eyebrow at his mentor.
"Yeah. No. I don't know about you, but I'm keeping this. I don't suppose you girls can make a third ticket, in case I want to bring a plus one?"
They all laughed. A big, full, hearty laughs like as though in the middle of a festive celebration.
Lyrica peered at Asa with wide, shimmering eyes.
"Only if we get to meet your plus one! Sure!"
Merlin continued next.
"Just spread the word ya know? The return of the Prismriver sisters, rising back from the dead! Performing live in the Human Village!"
With her last sentence her hand spread forward and to the side, as if she were a queen motioning to an entire countryside.
Mr. Kirisame looked to the blonde little girl staring back up at him.
"What about you? If you could find Layla, and say what's in your soul. What would it be?"
Lanusa smiled.
"I'm sure we won't even say a word."
Epilogue:
Perfect Possession Incident. 2nd Night.
Slick with the summer heat, and with the bodies of the crowd grinding against each other, Mr. Kirisame had decided to forego his formal wear and bring something more casual to the concert. White shirt, brown pants, light brown loafers. He was not as spry as he used to be, and his thin frame, wrinkled face, and grey-blonde hair was out of place among the youthful bodies surrounding him. He didn't mind, and instead focused on the stage. Lanusa, Lyrica, and Merlin were alight with joy, their faces a whirlwind of emotion as their hands stuck at the air. Their instruments, the same ones that he made for them by hand, floated in the air as if playing of their own accord. And alongside the Prismrivers a fourth girl with red hair snapped her fingers at the beat of an gargantuan drum.
Around the old man the crowd cheered and screamed. Many of them whistled or clapped out of sheer excitement. And every so often he would turn around to see the rainbow myriad of glowsticks pumping up and down as their holders bounced in time with the beat.
"Not bad girls… Though I wonder if these guys noticed that you're playing the same song as last night…"
The old man's mutterings were lost in the fervor of the concert. He breathed in and smiled. There was a sense of pride in those girls. They had done it. They had made it big, and achieved their dream of playing to a crowd of cheering fans. Yet, the red-headed girl on stage was definitely not Layla Prismriver. Perhaps that was an issue that solved themselves?
He spun around, leaning his head, trying to see through the waves of faces.
"Asa! Where'd you go boy?"
Damn kid must have run off again, probably to flirt with another girl. Mr. Kirisame shook his head and smiled. In Gensokyo, where many girls had magic, destructive powers, it was usually the woman who was supposed to make the first move. If that boy isn't careful he might just wind up with someone unstable enough to get him killed.
Marisa would probably be the absolute worst match for him.
And the geezer chuckled to himself, his own mind quiet and calm despite the chaos. He sighed again and looked to the sky. Perhaps Mima was there, somewhere in the stars, thinking of home like he was. Thinking of her family.
But then there was a light. Five stars spinning drifting across the sky before clashing with something gold and dissipating. Then an explosion of blue and white that remained several seconds longer than any normal firework. The old an squinted, raising his hand
Mr. Kirisame's jaw dropped. There was Marisa, there above the stadium. Her flight path careening through the sky. She was a shooting star that bounced across the horizons like a flaming pinball. He trudged himself slowly towards the center of the stadium, trying to get a better view of the battle raging overhead.
Marisa zipped left and right, forward and back, golden kanji signs grazing across her clothes. She banked upwards, rising above a swirling vortex of manifested poverty before the back of her broom exploded with a burning blue-white magic. Flying at ludicrous speeds, the tip of the broom slammed into Joon's chest, who groaned under the force of the impact.
"Now try this!"
The witch held both hands back at one side, before thrusting both of them out palms forward. A beam of light shot out from in front of her.
But the bejeweled Plague God recovered quickly. She regained her bearings, twin tailed hair and glittering purple coat flapping wildly in the summer breeze. Upon seeing the beam of light, her whole body became a blur, dashing left and leaning forward to dodge Marisa's attack.
Joon punched the air in front of her, the dazzling gold rings on her fingers firing shining diamonds and gold kanji spinning toward the witch. Marisa swerved through the projectiles in her own erratic motions.
The music around them boomed, a crescendo of sound and rhythm that shook the stadium to its very foundations. Above them the stars shined and the mooned faced them in a pale glow. The surroundings gave both fighter's danmaku a dazzling halo.
A green-haired youkai appeared behind the witch, whispering into her ear.
"Marisa, there's someone here with a connection to you. It's strong. Even with my third eye closed I can still feel it."
"I've got way more pressing matters right now Koishi!"
Marisa leaned back into her broom, flipping and dodging a superman punch that grazed bottom of her chin. Her legs still clung to the airborne piece of wood. And with a grunt, she flipped up and brought the broom over her shoulder. A cocky grin played across her lips while she aimed the broom like a bazooka. Jo'on grit her teeth and scowled at the witch. Marisa fired just as the plague god chucked a beige purse into Marisa's face. Both projectiles hit at the same time. Marisa would have recovered immediately, but the sudden face of Shion the Poverty God inches from her's made her flinch and fall further back.
"Whooa! Whooooaa neelly!"
The witch fell, plummeting into the crowd from several stories high. An onlooker from below pointed at the falling girl, and the cheering crowd dispersed from Marisa's landing zone. Mr. Kirisame fought against the current of bodies and charged forward, arms up to catch his daughter. Instead the broom planted itself into his face and he fell backward with a groan. Next to him Marisa flipped forward and floated gently to the ground.
She spun around at the people gawking at her.
"Oh please, as if you people haven't seen me flying around like this? You guys gotta get a grip."
Above her, Jo'on chortled and pointed at the fallen girl.
"That all you got Marisa? Come back up here so I can beat more cash of out of you!"
"Up yours! Gimme a break alright, relax and listen to the music for a second. This is a pretty rockin' concert I tell ya!"
Marisa adjusted her hat and looked around. The panicked onlookers by then had turned back to the musicians on stage.
"Where the heck'd my broom go?"
Someone grabbed the hem of her dress from below, and she had to restrain herself to blast him away right then and there. But then she squinted at the familiar face, and her hands started to shake.
"...Dad? What're you going here...At.. a magic concert?"
Mr. Kirisame struggled to his feet, before presenting the broom with both palms facing up.
"I wanted to tell you…."
Around them the crowd cheered and jumped into the song's climax exploded through the stadium. Glowsticks waved left and right so fast that they left after images. In that moment both Kirisame's were surrounded by shimmering fan's of rainbow light. And then silence before the musicians began the next song.
"Marisa. I want you to know that I'm proud of you. That you're just like your mother. And that I love you both so much."
Marisa tilted her head down by gut reaction. One hand rose to grip the broom, the other hand pinched the brim of her hat. Her body shook, grip tightening while her eyes remained hidden in shadow. Mr. Kirisame watched her lips pressed together, chin quivering before her words came out choked.
"Geeze Dad…...Ya don't have to get so mushy… It's embarrassing I tell ya."
His body still, eyes shining with a grin on his face. Her gaze rose to meet his, and her own cocky smile formed across her face. The old man continued, his voice cracking beneath his cheerful smile. And yet, it was though he were laughing at the same time.
"Go. Save the world. I'll be reading about you in the papers."
The witch nodded, smiling while her eyes started to well up with moisture. She ducked her head again and took a second to wipe her face with her sleeves. Behind her Koishi formed, and whispered into her ear again.
"Marisa. Jo'on and Shion are planning something weird. I don't know what."
Marisa prepped the broom between her legs. Her body rose above the ground, blue clothes and blonde hair fluttering about in an invisible wind. She gazed down at her father, and her lips party into a cocky smile.
"Take care of yourself okay, Dad?"
"I will. As long as you do the same."
Father and daughter waved their goodbyes. And amidst the rhythmic chaos the witch rose to battle once more.
The End.
(Author's commentary)
* Yes. I am fully aware that (spoilers) Marisa's battle in Antinomy of Common Flowers is one where she and Koishi get their asses kicked. Or more accurately, they kick each other's asses without even realizing it. I wonder how that'll look in the Bunbunmaru newspaper. Wait... can normal people even see the slaves in AoCF?