Gensokyo is such a peaceful place in a world that is most chaotic, yet it still has its own kind of the latter. One incident after another, it's a repetitive loop that seems to have no exceptions. Through the eyes of the seemingly ageless, the loop is torturous and, ironically, those ageless seem to be common in this fantastical world. Though it repeats, each experience is new and unique. It grants a release from the boredom of existing without a clear end in sight; most simply give up the thought of continuing their lives in exchange for interest and new memories. In that way, the Youkai of this land still have humanity, and vice-versa.
So why is it that they hate each other? To share a common existence, but to deny tranquility and coexistence even through clearly dual strife seems illogical. Still, of these resentful emotions can raise friendship. Few are willing to forget prejudice to achieve such a state and would rather stay as their kin have been.
And then there are the…different…ones, those who are already dead but still live as a mere husk of their previous nature. These are the beings called either "great" or "petty," such a similarity between extremes being of negligible importance. It is still the same, and always will be until changed by an outside influence.
In this fantastical world of Gensokyo is a flower that resides in a field of its own creation, its own beauty, and its own sorrow; its own hatred and denial. The past has left it alone and sour. And so do the passersby ask, "Why do they droop, but never truly die?" and "How are they all one?" The only one there to answer their questions stands in an illusory path. The only sound they give is a sigh, standing in silence and lost in their own tranquility of solitude.
It is a lie. None come this way any longer, and the questions this being wishes to hear and answer are imagination, just as the land is and just as their happiness. Content is no longer a factor, it is a goal; an impossible goal.
Yuuka Kazami, a name that is feared no matter who utters it. What, really, is the weight of the fear? Is its origin only in the past or is it of reasons untold from the perspective of the opposition? "Flower Master of the Four Seasons," is it not a threatening yet prestigious title? There are so many questions and none of them are answered so far. It's just a never-ending game of standing idly to ponder.
"Memories of those who lived in the past,
Recollections for the dead and gone,
Portrayals for the existences of the present,
And hopes and expectances for the future life,
This world around us grows life that blossoms in the sun and dies in the darkness,
Like the flowers in this phantasmal garden, they grow
If they are the flowers that cover this land, it might as well be barren,
Except that either way, it is,
Whether they live or die, all that is left is a wistful nothing,
I'd like to see the world covered in sunflowers,
A field of happy souls devoid of spider lilies,
And I will make it so, for a beautiful fragrance, and for a gorgeous appearance
Not even will the darkness stop it,
The light of the moon still shines upon these numerous petals,
Not even will raging fire destroy it,
The rain and clouds will send torrents to cleanse it,
The worldly garden will still spread so,
Its glory witnessed in full
Even so, even if the world is filled with the mark of the dead,
Emptiness is still persistent,
For even in this Gensokyo,
The Gensokyo where fantasy may become reality and the latter has no meaning,
There is still loneliness
This flower stands solitarily,
For the others fear its greatness,
Company has never been so exclusive,
Where it never dies, but never takes,
Truly longing and truly depressing is the flower standing alone,
In the center of an illusionary crowd"
-Yuuka Kazami,
The Everlasting Sunflower is finally dead,
And it has gone unnoticed