A/N: I present to the general Touhou public what is to be a collection of KeneMoko one-shots, drabbles and lyriclets. Each of these will have been derived from a sort of theme; colours, words, books, films, lyrics, and so on. Feel free to suggest something you'd like to see written about in a review, I will attend to it as soon as I can!

boundaries

There are several things that Mokou will never understand. She has never been academically prosperous; she could never gather metaphysics or biochemistry, or know what five to the power of fifty was, or be capable of explaining any sort of systems or theorems in any amount of detail. Abstract thought is quite foreign to her – she can't recall dates or place social, economical and political causes and effects; she can't quote anyone of any importance, or analyse words – it all just cartwheels over her head, wistfully and uselessly and happily, and for having all the time in the world she couldn't possibly have cared any less.

There is one thing she does understand though, quite well. She understands why Knowledge hasn't left the cocoon of safety and satisfaction that is her library for a hundred years; she understands why Margatroid snarls viciously and struggles against the embrace of her frighteningly eccentric kleptomaniac; she understands why, when the moon is full, Keine locks herself away, and when it is not, she discreetly holds herself apart and touches no one. Of course, she can be touched by just about anyone – they don't have half a mind to harm all that lays about them as she does – but acquiring permission is quite as possible as Kaguya falling victim to the reaper by the morning, and as such, Mokou can safely say that she has not once seen anyone make any physical contact of even the most innocent kinds with the history teacher even once. Boundaries are the thing she understands, and, having so many of her own, she does her utmost to respect them in all of their forms.

For all her understanding of the concept that is personal space, this is why she doesn't really know why she's letting herself feel so exposed as she does now. She has never let herself feel exposed, and yet here she is, allowing the green-haired beast to scrutinise every inch of her, letting her lover trail her thumb softly across her marred collarbone and press her burning lips to her scorched throat.

The last thing she understands fades into yet another mystery, and all of their walls come tumbling down with the most glorious bang.

Ignorance is indeed bliss.