"I've been thinking... Since you eat history, does it mean history has a taste?"
Keine turned her eyes away from a still intimidatingly tall pile of tests towards the other end of the room, where Mokou's few worldly possessions were temporarily stored, and where she currently laid on a futon provided by the homeowner. As they decided a few weeks prior – or rather as Keine decided after learning Mokou had not prepared herself for the winter and presumably planned to keep freezing to death every few days like she did every single year since they first met - it was easier than properly insulating the shack serving as the ancient Fujiwara clan's official Gensokyo outpost. It also meant that for the first time in centuries the last scion of this ancient lineage got to eat at regular times, have her hair brushed every morning and wear clothes which weren't kept in one piece only by a wide array of amateurish stitches.
"The long answer is that it's not exactly the same as physically eating it. The entire process is simply large scale memory manipulation rationalized by an ancient society without particularly many complex philosophical ideas as eating, while they were developing the idea of a mythical entity whose duty was to turn memories into history. It was a forerunner to the hakutaku proper", the teacher replied slowly, as if dictating a note.
"Okay, fine, but what about the taste?" Mokou's thirst for knowledge and new thrills was still not quenched, and she wanted the answer without the customary history lesson accompanying it.
"The short answer is that it does."
"Can you show me how this works?", she asked, smiling broadly. "I showed you already how it looks like when I resurrect, after all."
Keine sighed. She never actually asked about the mechanics of perpetual resurrection, and witnessing Mokou's combustion a couple of years ago was not particularly pleasant. However, they both knew she nonetheless has fond memories of this first bizarre attempt at flirting to occur between them. Had the immortal not done it, they would probably not be here together now, and their relationship would remain purely professional at the absolute best. While knowledgeable about many esoteric and largely forgotten historical facts, the scholar was not particularly good at reading feelings, even her own. A certain lack of imagination was for thousands of years viewed as mandatory for hakutaku candidates, in order to ensure they won't add anything too outlandish or subversive to their records. Thus this radical move on the other woman's part was necessary; without something drastic accompanying the question what exactly does she feel towards the immortal vagabond, she would never be able to realize how deep her attachment really runs.
"I don't have any disposable pieces of history stored, I'm afraid...", she started to explain, unsure how to stray away from the topic of history consumption without upsetting her girlfriend.
The storage space in the teacher's small house was rather limited even without a second person living with her. The walls were barely visible from behind shelves holding a wide variety of books, scrolls, cuneiform tablets, writing supplies, cultural objects managing to look like their authenticity is dubious despite direct confirmation of absolutely authentic origin being available from at least three independent sources, and last but not least jars of preserves gifted by families of past and present students (some of them undeniably of historical value by now). A few additional piles of similar objects, freshly acquired from Kourindou or borrowed from Suzunaan, patiently waited on the floor for the next full moon, when their forgotten contents will be able to join history anew. No actual, edible history was present anywhere among them, though. In the rare instances when a specific event had to be consumed, the process was imminent, and usually occurred outside.
"That's not a problem, just take a bit of mine. It's not like it'll be lost. I told you everything in detail, and my Keine never forgets anything, right? We can just make it history again this way, or something."
That was the second appeal to something they both knew was important to her. Since it was a clearly underhanded tactic, there was no shame in falling for it – or so claimed the haphazardly cobbled together rationalization which has been forming slowly in Keine's head. Besides, she was tired of correcting the same mistakes in the tests over and over again, so a small break won't hurt.
There was a high degree of trust and intimacy involved in the process of willingly taking away someone's history, even just a tiny piece of it. While it was not the first time this possibility came up, all the previous instances involved Mokou being in a horrible state, usually both mentally and physically – during these situations, she asked sometimes if it wouldn't be for the best if Keine took her entire history away to let her lose the curse of immortality; she objected to it every single time, obviously. Putting aside the fact that it's not exactly how it worked and she'd only remove the memories and not the event itself, stripping someone of their entire history would be a horrible fate – ultimately it's the memory of others where one is the most alive, according to Keine's beliefs. Additionally, what is consciousness if not just a sum of all memories a person possesses? There definitely were individuals who deserved to undergo an extreme kind of damnatio memoriae, amounting to loss of a sense of self, but not Mokou. Centuries of isolation, self-destructive behaviours and fights with Kaguya were more than enough of a punishment for any of her real or imaginary transgressions. Giving into demands of an even more severe one would thus be an unforgivable miscarriage of justice.
Right now she simply seemed bored, though, which was completely different. While there were instances in the past when this was a prelude to a descent into full blown Mokou-brand nihilism, which usually manifested as seeking mutually assured destruction in close proximity of Eientei, nothing as of late pointed at that being a risk, so playing along should be fine.
Additionally, while she wouldn't admit it openly, deep down Keine was genuinely curious how Mokou's history might taste.
"Are you sure about this?", she mumbled awkwardly, as moral concerns clashed with – purely scholarly, of course – interest in investigating a new flavour of history.
"Yeah, yeah, I have too much of it anyway. Just pick something unpleasant", smiled Mokou.
"Can I move next to you before we do this?", asked Keine a bit more desperately than she intended. While it wasn't a particularly uncommon sight now, her girlfriend's smile used to be something she was only able to witness once in a blue moon before. It still held the same power over her, and she secretly hoped that won't ever change even if by some miracle they'll manage to remove all the obstacles on Mokou's road to happiness.
"Sure, that'd be great", exclaimed Mokou, lifting up her blanket. While Keine bought Mokou a nightgown alongside other clothes on the same day she obliged to move in with her, Mokou instead preferred to sleep in one of her shirts and a pair of bloomers designated arbitrarily as sleepwear, much to her benefactor's dismay. This was not really the time to argue about it, though.
Keine left her desk and lay by Mokou's side. There was no turning back anymore.
There was no real need to touch the person or object whose history was to be extracted, but she instinctively put her hand on the other woman's forehead while chanting the necessary formulas quietly. The fact she already knew her history reasonably well helped to speed up the process considerably. The piece of history which began to materialize after a few minutes looked like a dim crystalline shard. Keine made sure to avoid any important moments, and instead settled on one of dozens of memories involving long forgotten battles between nameless brigands, somewhere in the depths of the Heian period. After a little hesitating, she put the distilled history into her mouth, observed by Mokou's wide open eyes.
The crystal melted – no, evaporated would be a better word, perhaps – within seconds. She felt this hundreds of times before, but every single instance of these sensations was a bit different. Unsure what to do, she decided to wait for reaction.
"So, how does my past taste?" asked Mokou after a few awkwardly long minutes to break the silence.
"Sharp, that's for sure", replied Keine, upon a brief reflection, choosing her words carefully. "But the bouquet is not particularly rich, I'm afraid. It's like eating raw horseradish."
"Well, that's disappointing. I really hoped you'll enjoy this", admitted the eternal flame, mildly saddened things seemingly didn't turn out as she imagined. She put her arms around Keine, who decided not to protest, even though there was still a plenty of work awaiting her on the opposite side of the room.
"Oh no, don't get me wrong, it was not unpleasant to me by any means. I never tasted anything quite like it before, and besides, I'm sure not all of your memories are defined by their bitterness – I would never take one of these away, though, that's not what you asked for. The memories of the time we spent together, of the people you helped in the forest lately, of children at the temple school who seem to enjoy meeting you... surely all have much more complicated tastes", she began, hoping to cheer Mokou up by bringing up recent positive developments in her life. "The more people you interact with in a meaningful way, the more elaborate the history you leave behind... and the more satisfying its taste would be for me, I suppose..."
Before Keine could delve into the details of her theory of historical flavours, she realized that while Mokou was still clutching her tightly, her eyes were closed. Additionally, the sleeping immortal was pleasantly warm. Before she noticed, Keine's thoughts also started drifting to a faraway land of dreams in her embrace.
Hopefully her students won't mind waiting one more day for the grades.