Author's Note: An attempt at making a nanowrimo fic safe for consumption. Please don't expect too much. Your head might explode. Please enjoy, if you can.
Rated T for strong language, racism (against youkai, humans, fairies, and pretty much anything that moves), graphic violence involving footballs and family jewels, substance abuse (mainly alcohol, tea and catnip), and other nasty things good little children shouldn't be reading. Read at your own peril.
Maniacal Justice in Bloody Red White
- Part 1 - A Bittersweet Winter Sonata, A Youkai's Birth Shower, A Septette Dirge and Reincarnation of a Melody Lost in a Forgotten Mist
Special Thanks to Roukanken and RDJ for assisting with proofreading the prologue. Special Thanks to Anthony, Roukanken, Sakana and Serpentarius for proofreading Chapter 1.
'Here was justice unswerving yet compassionate - forcing knowledge of a crime by the pathetic witness of its simplest result. Here was desperate remorse, praying only for pardon before death...And as the bronzed guardian passed, I saw what I had never seen before, - what few men ever see, - what I shall probably never see again, - the tears of a Japanese policeman.'
- Lafcadio Hearn, September 15 1895-
Prologue - The Witch, the Kitten and the Cuckoo Clock
CRACK….Crash….tinkle…tinkle….plink…..plink….plink….
Tick…Tock….Tick….Tock….
My entire world suddenly spun rather violently. I felt my whole body lurch, jostled about by a mass of objects that weren't only harder than a certain Whiterock but heavier too. It was like a ride in a kappa washing machine with Lady Patchouli's tomes* for company.
*You can't deny that a lot of the things in her library are long overdue a wash and an airing, including her.
I opened my bleary eyes urgently. I would like to say I saw an unfamiliar ceiling but I found myself staring at an unfamiliar bird instead. A crude mechanical raven with a funny green bow that was industriously trying to peck my eyeballs out no less. No, no, get your own eyeball, you.
Cuckoo...Cuckoo...Cuckoo...
I looked around wildly as I shoved the eyeball pecker out of my face and found myself trapped sideways in what looked like...a massive landslide of cuckoo clocks that had shored up against a big, solid western-style wooden door.
A sign on a wall facing the door said 'Abandon yer heads all ye who enter herein.'. Is this some sort of distastefully bad afterlife where all naughty crested ibises go after death? To spend an eternity with cuckoo clocks? They sure know how to make hell really horrid now. Well, I'm already inside, I think? I suppose I've already joined the cuckoos and abandoned all common sense and sanity by now, so can I please at least keep my head?
The door, slightly ajar, attempted to push up against the avalanche of cuckoo clocks. It was met by the sound of wood and metal and other squishy things snapping, smashing, cracking, tinkling and otherwise breaking. I winced with each sound, the paranoid in me wondering in horror if any of that was me.
"Cuckoo clocks? This is promising." The voice on the other side of the door commented.
Promising? You call this promising? How bad could things have been?
"At least she got over that thumbtack collecting phase." The voice commented to herself.
Oh, yes, I can see how this is better, especially from my point of view...even if my point if view currently involves a frog-shaped cuckoo clock that keeps on blowing raspberries at me, with a rather frantic-looking ice fairy strapped at the end of its tongue no less.
Wait one moment, where am I and why am I trapped in a pile of cuckoo clocks? I don't tick and I'm not cuckoo. At least, not yet. And who is this person collecting thumbtacks and cuckoo clo-...oh...
A heavy dread fell on me like the weight of a shrinemaiden's debts. Oh no. I've been taken home. By that mad princess no less.
"Hmmm...maybe a little discrete application of force will help..." The voice mused to herself.
N-no! Wait! Don't discrete-application-of-force me!
BOOM
CRASH…SMASH…CRACK….Crack…creak…tinkle…tinkle….plink…
A lot less tick-tocks. A lot less me.
OST: Yorokobi - youtube . com/watch?v=O2ff4MNRjN8
I lay amongst the remains of something that was evidently made in Sweden judging from the proud, helpful little label on a smouldering bit of wood lying against my face. Well, wherever Sweden is, it has now been thoroughly unmade in Gensokyo.
I watched my discrete applier of force walk over the flattened door and across the scattered remains of many once-proud cuckoo clocks, quite obliviously overlooking my singed form on the floor. My usual severe allergic reaction towards all things dressed in red and white kicked in promptly, causing me to gag, hyperventilate and itch rather fiercely. But slowly other details registered, the first of which was that this person falls into the NOT-shrinemaiden category of people. A good start as far as I'm concerned. I relaxed a little.
A snow-white kitten pawed at a now homeless cuckoo by the door, sending it clattering into my face. It pattered its way up to me and gave me that typical head-cocked-to-one-side look of curiosity that kittens make whenever they are trying to decide whether something was a) food, b) litterbox, c) prospect for food, d) drugs, or e) dirt. No, I might be a crested ibis youkai but I'm not a cuckoo, I don't push catnip and I'm certainly not edible. And I've had enough crap too. Go away.
"Come here, Socrates." The kitten perked up his ears at his mistress' call and ran off. He leapt up her mistress' long, red, rather puffy skirt, clawing his way up her starched-white apron bow, disappeared behind a long, wavy cascade of golden blonde hair, before finally coming to settle on the summit that was his mistress' rather massive red bow atop her head.
His mistress had paused in the middle of the room, casting a look of bright-eyed innocent curiosity around at the rows upon rows upon rows of random objects, mostly junk and curiosities, arrayed all around the circular wall of the room, all the way up to the lofty ceiling high above. Her gaze came to rest upon the large ornate fireplace to one side, upon which she stared until the firewood seemingly went up in flames in sheer embarrassment.
She gave the rest of the room a nod. As if obediently obeying an unspoken command, the room, very literally, got to work. A broomstick peeked out from its little corner and began to industriously sweep the wooden parquet floor. A dustpan crept along in the shadows of the broomstick, preying upon errant dirt. A feather duster seemed to summon up some forgotten ancestral feathery knowledge and took flight, dusting off the multitude of shelves. Books lying about on the tables and floors flapped away home to arrange themselves in their rightful places. The entire room came alive before my eyes, and all at a single nod from this mysterious girl.
I gave a little gasp as I myself began to float up into the air accompanied by the many cuckoo remains. Okay, wait, I'm not a feather duster, my wings aren't qualified in that regard. Or a book, I'm not standardized for any book shelf. Or...wait, no no no!
The cuckoo clocks all began to reform all around me...including on me. Wooden bits and pieces attempted to encase me but, failing that, simply settled for latching onto whatever bit of me they could reach, making for a rather disfigured cuckoo clock.
Brilliant. I really am considered a cuckoo as far as this room is concerned. Each restored clock was sent off to squeeze into any patch of wall not yet occupied by a painting, mural or dead animal. That's a good point, for the record, I'm not a dead animal either.
Alright, let's not have an identity crisis. I don't tick. I don't tell time. No, I wasn't made in Sweden. I have a trauma with mislabelling. Please stop that.
I decided it might be best for me to inconspicuously remain a part of the furniture until I could better understand what's going on, something that I had a feeling would take a while. And so I came to terms with my identity as a cuckoo clock...for now.
It wasn't long before I gathered that colour was as far as the similarities between this girl and the shrinemaiden went. Where the shrinemaiden is a lump of narrow-mindedness and laziness bound together by greed, this girl was where bright-eyed childish innocence collided with practical brutality and arrived at not only a rather turbulent coexistence but a mutually beneficial symbiosis.
She finally turned her attention to the large, ancient western desk at one end of the room, positioned before a massive curtained window, abutted by two tall shelves of books. There, in a tall, rather oversized chair, lounged a figure in a short, white under-kimono that showed off a little more leg than common sense*. A pair of white-gloved arms hung over the armrests, bare feet resting up on the worn leather-surfaced desk. Where the head should be was a long, silky stream of radiantly red hair pouring out from under an open book titled 'The Saigyouji Guide to Raising Pet Birds' for Pleasure and Profit'.
*Sorry, that was a redundant comment.
OST: Hurry, Starfish - youtube .com/watch?v=3_xHISYL9AQ
"Good morning, Hime-chan~ You look bright and fluffy this morning~" She greeted the book as she approached.
Since when was 'fluffy' a compliment?
"Ah, Elle-chi-n, you are 27 seconds earlier than yesterday." The book said in reply, in a muffled, lazy tone. "A fruitious fact, for We have just concockled a new youkai repealer blend that We simply must test intimately without decay." One arm rose lazily to indicate a small alchemy pot atop the desk, the multi-coloured contents of which had long since overflowed and solidified around the sides.
Fruitious? Concockled? Repealer? And let's not get started on the use of 'intimate' and 'decay' there. The red hot iron words screeched like one of Kamishirasawa-sensei's chalks running across the chalkboard of my soul.
"Immediately without delay, you say?" The girl named Elle-chin-n' repeated in what must pass for sanity around here. You're telling me you understand her? You speak insane?
"Hmmm...Not repelling me, is it now?" 'Elle-chi-n' sighed, taking the pot, the crucible, contents and all, together, and tossing it into the reinforced refuse bin already inundated with all manner of the strange and wonderful…mostly strange.
"….We suppose not." The book sighed, letting her arms flop back over her armrests. "Elle-chi, this observengeance inevitably leads to only one concussion….We believe We now have irrepuntable proof that you are not, by nature or birth, a youkai."
"But I am~" Elle-chi~n giggled, "So there's really only one conclusion – you need more practice~" Elle-chi~n said as she climbed up onto the desk and pulled the red heavy western-style curtains apart, revealing a panoramic view of a snow-blanketed Gensokyo. "Why don't you try making it fluffy? That always works for me~" She suggested as bright, winter sunlight streamed into the room, tinged in a rather mysterious red.
"Aaargh, blasted sun, such ill-mannered disretard for the sanitary of one's sweet repose." The book said, in the same lazy drone. Wait one moment. If you can make logs burn and a room clear itself up with nothing more than a look, why are you opening the curtains yourself? By hand?
"Your laziness, you mean?" Ellen asked, securing the curtains to a set of rather ornate bronze curtain holders.
"And you, Elle-chi-n, such blatant disretard for the most pompiant art of eupessimisms."
"Your excuses?" Elle-chi-n translated, crossing her arms and looking down at the book with loving disapproval from where she stood atop the desk.
"Pardon Us, a Princess has no want for exchooses. Her subjects, the composters, simply…accommodate Her…more difficult to understand endowments." The self-proclaimed princess said dismissively.
"Your verbosity's lacking today." Elle-chin commented as she knelt down on the desk and leaned in close to the princess, raising the book of her face with all the care of a connoisseur, having found the caterpillar in her salad, raising the rest of the lettuce.
"And speaking of both lacking and endowments, you, my dear Elle-chi-n, are disintriguingly lacking in the endowment department as always." The self-proclaimed princess sighed. Elle-chi~n calmly took a moment to dislodge the pair of inappropriately placed hands as she continued on with her examination.
"Now, let's take a look at you..." Elle-chin inched in closer, "Hmmm...You've been out fighting again, haven't you, Hime-chan? Jeez, and what did we say about playing nice with the other children~?"
"We ran into a wall." The princess replied airily as Elle-chin raised a hand to the princess' face to get a better look.
"Must have been a very accurate wall to hit only your left eye alone. That's one amazing wall~" Elle-chin noted the rather dark bruise that now adorned the princess' eye.
"It shot lead bullets too."
"That's nice~ Were they fluffy?" She asked as she began applying an ointment of sorts to the princess' eye.
"Deadly."
"Best kind of fluffy~" Elle-chi~n blew softly on the ointment.
Was it just me or was this conversation not only one-sided but one-sided on both sides? Or, rather, one-sided on one side and fluffy-sided on the other?
Some more time passed uneventfully as the conversation devolved even further into incomprehensibility.
"Well, no other injuries, it seems." Elle-chin~n certified as she finally leaned back, satisfied with her thorough examination.
Wait, no, I'm sure I saw...
"Didn't you get shot last night?" I suddenly blurted out before I could stop myself.
The two turned to look up at where I hung on the wall by the collar of my dress. "...oops..." I had both hands clasped over my mouth in horror at my own outburst.
"Ufufufufu~ Common pellets of lowly lead dare not breeches the sanitary of a Princess' prescience, let alone Her skin." The princess giggled softly as the fluffy person fastened the sash around her under-kimono.
Breeches sanitary what?
"Oh dear, you brought home another cuckoo?" The fluffy person came up to me and helped unhook the collar of my dress from the wall. "...now, Hime-chan, what did I tell you about bringing home junk? Especially the funny talking ones?"
I'm not junk. And what sort of junk talks?
"She's not junk. She's Tokiko." The princess corrected.
Except that wasn't correct. What's a Tokiko? Seriously.
"Alright, what did I tell you about bringing home pets?" The fluffy person asked, patting the bits of wood off me. "And stuffing them with the rest of your collection as well?"
How is that better than 'junk'? I'm not a pet either. Get your eyes checked. And maybe your brain too.
"Well, you have Socrates. If you're allowed an infernally young kitten then We should at least be allowed a Tokiko." The princess replied, snapping the book lying on her chest shut; the book on raising pet birds. Ah, she's serious about the pet thing. I'm doomed.
So...I'm on the same level as that cat, am I? I looked up at said kitten perching atop his mistress' head. He promptly looked away. So, even the kitten doesn't think so.
"Umm...my name is..." I began.
"Tokiko." The princess filled in for me. Wait, that's not my name.
"Tokiko...san, is it? It's a pleasure to meet you, Tokiko-san~"
Wait a moment, who told you you get to name me? With something absurd like that no less?
"Though I think 'FuwaFuwaTama'* would be a nicer name." The Fluffy person said, not-so-helpfully.
*FuwaFuwaTama : Fluffy Fluffy Head
Waaaaaait a second! How is that a better name? No, no, can we stick with Tokiko? No, no, no, more importantly, why do you both insist I need a new name?
"No, she's Tokiko." The princess insisted.
Fine. Whatever, as long as it's not 'FuwaFuwaWhatever'.
"So you want to keep her?" The fluffy person asked.
Wait a moment. Why are you two still holding this conversation as if I'm not here? I can hear you, you know.
"Yes, We're peeping Tokiko." The princess said, in a final tone.
Looks like I don't get a say in anything at all. Also, peeping?
"Hmmm..." The fluffy person came up close to me and...wait, wait, what are you...? Hey, that's my face! Why are you squeezing and pulling my cheeks! Ouchouchouch! H-hey! That's my wings! N-not there! N-N-Not the feathers! They're delicate a-and carefully c-calibrated f-f-forf-f-fliiiiight! N-Noooooooooo!
"Hmmm..." Ellen murmured thoughtfully as she walked around the slowly vapourizing heap on the floor that was me. "Alright, she passes the standardized fluffy test. She is certifiably fluffy~"
Y-...Yay? Wh-what does that even mean? T-there's a s-standardized t-test of f-fluffiness? What? Why? How?
"My name is Ellen. Fluffy Ellen~" The fluffy person said in introduction. I see, so now I'm fluffy enough to be worthy of her name.
I'm sorry? Did you just describe yourself in terms of a texture? I'm not really surprised, but...
It took a while longer for me to learn that while Ellen was indeed cute and fluffy, it was in the same way lion cubs and baby tarantulas are cute and fluffy.
"So...Fluffy-san?" I ventured, managing a watery smile, just about suppressing what would be a rather embarrassing explosion of laughter. Now I know what that hell raven feels like on a bad day.
"Oh, no, my full name is Ellen Fuwafuwatama Aureus~"
"..." Seriously? "Fuwa...fuwatama-san?" I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know that was your name. And I'm so sorry I couldn't manage a straight face. I truly am. I'm trying though. God knows I'm trying. I'm trying as hard as I can. This is me trying.
"Ellen's fine~" She waved off the family name formalities with a warm, fluffy smile. Oh no, I'm starting to think in terms of 'Fluffy' too. This fluffiness is contagious.
"And this is Socrates." Ellen went on, pointing at the kitty perching atop her bow, seemingly not noticing my suffering. "He's your sempai*"
*Sempai: n. Senior fellow employee/student/worker at a place of work/study.
For the last time, I'm not a pet...oh, nobody's listening, are they? Fine, okay, the cat's my sempai.
"Take good care of your kouhai*, Socrates~" Ellen said, sweetly.
*Kouhai: n. Opposite of 'sempai'. The junior at a place of work or study.
Wait, is he sneering down on me? A kitten is looking down on me. This is worse than bullying!
"More importantly, you got shot, Hime-chan?" The girl asked. Did it take that long to register? Does information travel through your fluffy fluffy head at different speeds or something? How was my name more important than her getting shot?
Then I remembered this is the maniacal princess we're talking about, so...
"It was a long night. We wish a contaminient fastback could just explain it all, but..." The princess drew a deep breath, cleared her throat, before, "...we're too lazy." She sighed, flopping back into her chair. "Tokiko will give the explosion." She waved a hand airily at me.
Looks like my status has degraded further from pet to instrument of exposition now?
Ah, well...queue convenient flashback.
Prologue OST - FELT - Story - youtube .com/watch?v=ndOHeK6FP1c
Chapter 1 will be made available on Thursday 1st March - EDIT - Chapter 1 Now Available.