Author's Note: This story in no way is owned by me. This was created by an anon on an older part of 4chan; however, it is impossible to reach the original copy of this story as it stands. I somehow had it saved in my jumpdrive, and in an attempt to preserve the story I have uploaded it here. To comply with the regulations of , the story has been modified from a second person perspective to a first person perspective. If the original author of this story is around, I would like to thank you for creating this wonderful tale of Yuuka bonding with someone.

I was huddled inside my 'command center' - it's nerdy, but it's basically the same as my bedroom. While I never managed to get a fairly good apartment, the rest of it never really mattered. After my family's passing left me with a stack of cash, I never really had to hold down a steady job or leave the house, ever again; perfect receipe to make a fine shut-in like myself, if you ask me. The newspaper is shoved under the door almost every day and I get food delivered here regularly, leaving a good chunk of time time for my two major hobbies - reading things online, and playing Touhou.

One of the things that got me the most are the so-called Bad End stories that appeared from time to time, an old info page holding a variety of stories of men finding love in Gensokyo, only to have their love life cut short. Pitiful, but it does give me some much needed info if I ever found myself transported to Gensokyo. With this knowledge, I should be able to succeed far better than the men in those stories. Real or not it's best to be prepped - especially when those guys don't know the first thing about being genre savvy!

My work bench (desktop) was littered with figurines from Touhou and 'survival notes'; not just for a likely-impossible trip to the Hakurei Shrine, but also for creating a self-sustaining power source, surviving in the wilderness and how to grow safe crops, and even a fail-safe emergency guide for the End of the World Race Riot that one of my online buds rants nonstop that is just around the corner, just as it was last year and the year before.

It was raining now and the lights were dimmed, so I was wasting the night thinking about Lily White while researching Bosonic String theory. My reading was interrupted when the power died without warning. It was the only thing I failed to remember: a backup power supply. Sure enough, the computer shut itself off with a crackling hiss. I let out a sigh and decided to head to a fridge for some soda and a good book to lay in bed with - perhaps a mystery novel, or that Kurzweil book my other friend sent in the mail...

I was coming back from the fridge when something caught my ear - a tapping on the window. I thought it was the rain initially. I took a sip from the soda, and idly look towards the window.

A cluster of vivid red eyes peering through a terrible purple miasma stared back.

Before I could scream I felt my body become heavy. Without warning the soda can fell from my hands and I followed soon after, collapsing to the floor. That was all I could remember.

I heard birds chirping right in my ear. That's one way to wake me up.

I struggled to get up, grunting in pain from an aching back, more so than when I remain seated in my chair most of the day. I opened my eyes and see a fantasy sight ahead of me, one unlike the city I've grown in. A seemingly endless hewn-dirt path was the first to say hello; hot and humid feeling of the weather greeted my skin with their presense; the sound of a light breeze and a gentle orange sky whispered into my ears, hinting of a storm to come. It took me a moment to realize it, but when I did, I gritted my teeth.

"Dammit, so soon?"

The worst had happened. I was indeed taken away to another world. It might have been off guard, but there is no reason to panic. I have my plans. The first thing to do is to look forward. The path does fork up ahead - a well-traveled road pockmarked with footprints and the occasional animal track leading to what looks like a forest of some kind; either there is a settlement in it, or one in the direction opposite. As for the other path ... very few footprints - perhaps none - seem to follow it, and it continues sloping to the north, into what seems to be a field of some kind. Looking at the road ahead I check to see what I had on hand; just the clothes on my back, the pen and paper always stocked in my pocket to take notes, and the sharp letter opener in my pant leg, 'just in case'. It probably'd break if it tried to do anything more strenuous with it than whittle, let alone gutting a fish.

With this in mind, I began thinking of what to do. Heading up or down the traveled road means people, eventually - people who can tell me where I are, and what's going on, if the answer isn't obvious enough. The untraveled path is likely less traveled for a reason...

Screw that. As much as I hated the unknown, I hated crowds even more, especially the growing crowd based on my clothes. I'm not bad at dealing with people; I could talk my way through some people well - but all those fake conversations about meaningless things... just made life seem even more dull than it should be. I let out a chuckle. If the untraveled road led to a field of some kind, I might be able to find some orchards or brambles to loot for food, anyhow; and a few rural hicks are probably easier to deal with than the police in some crazy place, right?

Heading up the road for some time, I felt the heat and humidity getting under me, scorching my skin and leaving me a panting mess, as if the sun were trying to peel the flesh off my bone. Idly wishing that someone would turn the damn thing off, I pulled my tie off shovef it in my pocket- if nothing else, you can use it for a tether, later. I also unbuttoned the white shirt and let it hang open. It was times like these that I should've followed the tai chi chuan home course more closely. I may have more stamina than an average nerd, but I'm clearly not in as good of a shape as I thought I was…

Either way no going back now. I continued the humid, groggy slog until a large camphor tree came up ahead. I rushed towards it and hurdled myself into its cooling shade, grinning like a genius. After feeling like an open oven cooking contest there's nothing like being able to relax. I stripped off the wet shirt and wringed the sweat out of it. I looked at my undershirt too, but stopped moving my hands. I may have shed off my baby fat, but I still felt a bit embarrassed about exposing my upper body to the world. Stinging words in dimly remembered locker rooms in my youth hurt me more than they should.

I decided to keep the undershirt on and wrapped the wringed shirt around my torso. After my break I looked ahead, staring at where the path has led. It was definitely a field, although definitely not a fruit field. As the sun hung heavy in the sky and the air began to cool down, I admired the view ahead of me.

It was a flower field - full to the brim with wildflowers, creeping roses, and tulips in colors I didn't even think possible. Most striking of all, however, are the towering sunflowers, majestically reaching out over the other plants like verdant towers; It would be easy for someone to get lost in them and never find their way out.

Ah, I finally felt myself cooling down; the shade has done its job very nicely. The sun's starting to come down too. I must have been walking for hours and it must be getting late. I looked at my watch, but I think it might be broken. It's hour hand stuck at one, and the minute hand unmoving at three or so minutes after five. My cell is - was - at home, but it'll be cold out when night hits - shelter'd be nice.

I began thinking of options. There's no way I would be able to hollow out this tree or make an earth shelter with this flimsy penknife. Come to think of it, I haven't seen any animals here either; not even the birds I heard chirping when I woke up earlier. Weird. Considering what kind of field this is, there should be butterflies around here. Bees, too. And I definitely heard cicadas...

Speaking of noises, is that someone digging? I strained my ears while hiding behind the tree. There's no mistaking the sound of something metal forcing itself into the earth. It does sound like one person rather than a group, so it should not be too much of a problem - although they'd have to be superhuman to keep all these flowers cared for. Heh, supergardener.

I snatched a few of the kernels from some of the sunflowers, shucked them and popped them into my mouth. They're unsalted, of course - and actually a little sweet, almost too sweet. Maybe all non-factory produced food tastes like this - or maybe there's some weird chemical in the earth that makes them grow this tall? I should look this up when I get home, and push several of the plants aside - their admonishing shush as you push forward a sign that the entrance is a a place from which it will be impossible to go back.

This soil, it's so soft. It's like I can hear, taste, feel and smell it in each step. I may not be a gardener, but it must be really rich. No wonder why the sunflowers are so big. The digging sound grows closer with each plant moved aside. The sun suddenly shined bright and I threw up my hand against it in defense. A few moments later and the sun calmed down and let my eyes adjust. Sure enough, the digging sound was right next to me. I lowered my head down to see…

A woman was kneeling in the dirt, plaid skirt stained with the heavy brown soil I've been trekking through. A thatched sunhat rested on hair as green as the plants surrounding her, the thick white work gloves she wears gripping her trowel intently as she removed weeds from the groves, with intricate care.

She doesn't seem to notice me, but I felt the sweat from earlier return and lodge all of itself in my throat. I've seen her before, with her placid smile and eyes as red as the roses I passed earlier. Think back earlier, back to my notes – what to do if I found myself in a situation like this - a situation that can't be happening… I promised myself that I wouldn't make the same mistakes the others had made.

Taking a deep breath, I steeled yourself. Even the weakest creature here - if where I am is correct - could rip me limb from limb in a matter of seconds, especially the gardener here. If she decided she wanted me dead, that would be the end of it; might as well try to talk.

I moved forward, trying to ignore the way the sun glances bewitchingly off of those garnet-red eyes. It appeared she had finally noticed me, as she dropped the trowel to the ground and rose to her feet, subconsciously wiping dirt off on a yellow smock.

Her smile never left her face.