It'd been an hour—at least from his perspective—since he left the mortal world. Funny, Cicero never really fancied himself a "mortal", but perhaps the wrong end of the knife gave him a change of heart. If only that was metaphorical. He wasn't sure exactly where he was headed, but he was certain the territory would not be the same. All he could see in front of him now was an endless plain of blank white, and all there was to hear was the numb tune of silence. The weightlessness of the realm didn't help either; he couldn't really move in any direction, though he could flay his body around and hope for something else to happen. A few flaps of the arms this way and a kick in the air the other way and he successfully made himself nauseous from the built up momentum. No, he wasn't going anywhere, he thought.

The rest of his body was too disinclined to even respond. His entire nervous system was barely numb, and he couldn't feel his previously racing heartbeat nor the contractions of his diaphragm. It felt to him as though he was what people called a "zombie", except without the dumb moaning or the desire to consume a peer's grey matter. He tried that once—the cerebellum was too chewy. There was really nothing he could do at the moment. Might as well just float here and await the inevitable, if there was actually something else to wait for.

Now was a good time to think, he concluded. He didn't get much time to just drown in his own thoughts. Now that all the war waging, neck breaking, figurative back stabbing, and literal back stabbing were away from him, he could just melt into sleep and dream while he had the chance. Death was surprisingly relaxing; he was half expecting some supernatural torment to ravage him for close to an eternity. The other expectation was waking up to the blade still stuck in his sternum. It appeared neither was going to happen, to his disappointment, but at least it was quiet for once.

It wasn't long before the silence ceased, however. A subtle pull enveloped his body, followed by the dull roar of a distant wind. The weightlessness was disappearing too, and he could feel his stomach begin to lurch forward.

"So much for a bit of R&R," he muttered to himself. The rest of his body jolted back to life, giving him a modest shock in the process. The dull roar of the wind had quickly escalated to an abrasive howl, and he felt his body picking up speed. The beating in his chest rose again, and he caught himself gasping for air that was travelling too fast for him to breathe in. The bleached white void was tearing away, apparently literally, to a dimmer sky of gray. The adrenaline of the fall swiftly prompted him to flail his arms again to try to grab anything to slow his rate of descent. Why did he even bother? He was looking up at an overcast sky. There wasn't anything he could even wrap his fingers around.

Before he could think of something better to do, he slammed against a surface, letting out a forced grunt before being immediately swallowed by a layer of water. His vision blurred as his descent ended, and he choked as a practical cup of water poured into his lungs. He quickly swam back to the surface and coughed for a minute or two. "Good lord," he attempted to say before he was beaned in the back of the head during the beginning of "lord". The force of the hit sunk him back into the water with another forced grunt, and he eyed the silhouette of a small boat above him. Once it passed, he resurfaced again with a second coughing fit before looking at the vessel.

It was no larger than a wooden dingy, and appeared to be carrying two people on it. One donned red hair and a scythe; the other was a sullen looking man with a beer belly, and unlike the red-head, looked completely unimportant. There was, however, an unusual group of bulb-like objects floating around him, each with a small "tail" that whipped upward like a candle's flame.

Cicero kept them in mind before turning around to inspect the rest of his environment. The body of water he was in appeared to be a river, if not a canal. One shore was populated by clusters of other sullen men and women; he caught a glimpse of a few children too, most of which bore expressions leaning towards confusion rather than depression. The other side, where the boat was headed, was empty, save for a large field of flowers. The shore with the crowd was much closer to him, he noted. He'd have to catch a different ride if he wanted to check the flower end. He craned his head up in the air. The sky was gray, but oddly looked like it was the actual sky rather than a layer of clouds. The whole place was also surrounded by a distant fog, and a quick examination of the water showed it was opaque, but with more of a glassy sheen than just sedimentary pollution.

"What a strange—" he attempted to comment, but was cut short by another blunt hit to the back of the head, forcing another sink and resurface. "Son of a gun!" he shouted after clearing the water from his trachea. He saw the boat again, this time stopping in front of him rather than continuing. It was the same red head, this time travelling alone. How did she get back so fast? She looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"How the heck are you floating right now?" she asked, sounding like she doesn't normally stumble on someone in a river.

"Um, buoyancy?" Cicero responded confusedly, still attempting to process her quick return. Maybe she killed the last guy and dumped him in the river. Perhaps it wasn't a smart idea going with her, but she'd already offered her hand by the time he snapped out of his trance. She hoisted him into the boat and turned back around to the shore loaded with flowers. Behind him, he could hear the dull groaning of everyone else. Apparently they all wanted a ride too.

"Right… So where'd you get those weird clothes?" she asked immediately as the boat seemingly moved itself without any physical interference.

"Eh?" Cicero answered; he'd caught himself poking at a similar group of bulbs that'd begun floating around him. He glanced down at his soaking wet attire; it was still his gray military officer's coat and boots. He even managed to keep his cap after the fall. All that was different was that there was no gash in his chest. She stared at him, resting the scythe on her shoulder and waited for an answer. At the same time, he eyed her blue and white dress, which completely deviated from any design he'd ever seen, save for in a few books. He also noted the pigtails her hair was tied into and the pinkish hue he hadn't noticed at a distance. On a side note, her bust was just as worthy of admiration.

"Well, where'd you get those?" he asked awkwardly. A long, uncomfortable silence rose between them before she replied.

"I guess everyone has their own tastes," she said, ignoring his question. "So, where're you from, pal? The village? The mountain?"

"Does the place 'Archaea' ring a bell?" Cicero answered.

"Hmm? Nope. What's it like?" She traced her eyes around the horizon. It appeared she liked making small talk with her passengers.

"It's… really far from here I imagine," he muttered. "Actually, could you do me a favor and tell me where I am?"

"Well, you're dead, so this is the Sanzu River. We're going to Higan so you can get your judgment. What, haven't you died before?"

Cicero raised an eyebrow. "No."

"Ooh, you must be an outsider. Wow, you're the second we've had in like, a century."

"I beg pardon?" Cicero asked. He was a bit surprised that a human could last for a century. Then again, it would be extremely foolish to conclude that anybody here was even human. He glanced for a moment behind him. They'd gained some distance from the crowded shore, but it didn't look like they'd moved an inch closer to the other side. Perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"We usually don't get outsiders at Higan. Most of them just leave before they could die. Speaking of which, how did you die?"

"I was stabbed," he said, leaving out the unnecessary details.

"Huh. Well I won't ask why. People don't usually like when I ask the story behind it. But there was one guy I met who told me he cleaved his entire family with a butcher's knife and strung their entrails all around his house because he couldn't pay a guy he lost a bet to. He was a bit of a loon."

"A bit of a loon…" Cicero repeated, with a bit of a smile on his face. Maybe this place was just as insane as home.

"Speaking of pay, can you hand me your coins?" she asked him, holding out her hand.

"Coins?"

"Yeah, they're for the toll. You gotta pay to ride this thing."

Cicero fiddled through his pockets, which were all empty save for one that managed to catch a small fish. He shrugged and smiled awkwardly at her after looking. What more could he do?

"Dammit, outsiders must be chronically broke. It's gonna take me another fifty years before I can buy a better boat than this piece of crap." she whined with a look of agitation on her face. "Oh well, you're more trouble taking back at this point. We're here." Cicero jumped as he noticed they were already at the shore. Just a moment ago he could've sworn they were in the same place.

"Alright then…" he muttered to himself before addressing the girl, "Thank you miss, uh…"

"My name's Komachi. Remember it because you owe me next time you die. Just follow the path. The Yama will get to you once it's your turn," she commented, then shoved off again.

Cicero nodded to her before walking along the tiny beaten path ahead of him. The amount of flowers in this place was staggering. Posies filled the landscape up to the horizon. All he could think was that whoever planted them had too much time on his hands. He made his way for a good twenty minutes until he reached a long line of more sullen men and women. In front of him was the man with the beer belly that Komachi had brought over. The line extended almost as far as the flowers, and he couldn't see the end of it. "How inefficient," he thought to himself. The line slowly filled up behind him, and he inched forward every couple minutes. He kept to himself, since nobody else looked interesting enough to talk to, and nobody conversed anyways.

There was enough time for him to contemplate exactly where he was. Higan didn't ring a bell in his head, and if he was still back home, it should have. Perhaps Death took him somewhere different. He couldn't help but think that the eggheads before used to talk about something like this happening. He shrugged the thought off and continued waiting.

There was enough time for him to analyze every different looking flower he could find near the path and try to figure out what it was before he made any progress. The time extended into the hours, and seemingly into days as he moved. What a maddening wait it was. The guy in front of him never shut up complaining about not getting another drink. At least he couldn't die twice, otherwise he might find himself stuck in a cycle of falling into the same cycle after withering away.

After over a week of arduous standing, a small house began to peek over the horizon; he estimated it would be another week before he could inch forward enough to see it up close. The house was strangely designed, but had a similar feel to Komachi's attire. All of it screamed a sort of "Feudal Era" kind of design. His Old World memory failed to tell him what kind of country this place resembled though. A few hours later he reached a sign spelled in a different language. Oddly enough he could understand it. On it said:

Ministry of Right and Wrong.

Presiding Yama: Eiki Shiki

He would have said it was odd, but everything else was already so anomalous that he'd grown used to the strangeness. Another grueling day passed, and he was finally second from the door. The man in front of him was called to enter by an exasperated girl's voice. She sounded young for a judge, assuming this was where he would receive his judgment, but ultimately Cicero no longer cared. He was close enough to listen to the talking inside, just barely. It started off with the girl, presumably the "Yama", speaking to the man for a few minutes in a lighter tone, followed by a short period of him groveling to her for mercy on the sins he'd committed. The next four hours were spent listening to her detailing and criticizing virtually every problem of his life before she proceeded to beat him senseless with some object.

"Now to hell with you!" she shouted. Cicero could hear him continue to grovel before a loud whooshing sound silenced him. "Next!" the girl shouted, sounding more exasperated then before.

The white wooden doors slid open, and he walked in. The interior was surprisingly large, the ceiling extending upward another two stories and the walls twice as wide as he'd visualized outside. In front of him sat a young looking girl with dark green hair, and a blue dress with a black skirt. On her head was a blue and white crown with a golden emblem. Most of her hair extended to her neck, but a portion of it extended to her shoulder. Her seat appeared to be a kind of symbolic scale to indicate a balance of good and evil, one end of the scale holding a white skull, and the other holding a black skull with the seat itself composed of gold. Clearly she held more authority than Komachi.

"I wonder if my life would have been easier staying a statue…" she muttered to herself, rubbing her temples before she looked at Cicero. "You'll have to forgive me. It's been a long day," she said in a more composed tone.

"You don't say?!" he shouted with a condescending smile.

She ignored his outburst, running her eyesight up and down his figure. "Why do you wear that outfit?" she asked in puzzlement.

"Why do you wear that hat?" Cicero retorted. He was already getting tired of being asked about the uniform. Maybe it would have been wiser not to test her if she could really send him to hell, but he wasn't really one to take the sensible path. They shared a familiar awkward silence, staring at each other blankly for a few minutes.

She let out a tired sigh. "Nevermind. Let's just get through with this." She straightened up her tone to sound more formal. "Departed soul, you will be evaluated on the transgressions committed in your past life. Every portion of your existence will fall under my judgment, which shall determine the fate of your sentence." She held up a small crystal mirror in front of his face, the reflection facing directly at him. The image morphed, showing images from the beginning of his life, rapidly flashing different scenes in front of him before eventually leading to his ultimate demise. Cicero glanced at the Yama; her expression grew more perplexed as the images continued. As the show ended, Cicero could remember a number of regrettable moments in the past. Suddenly his chances of reaching a favorable sentence seemed less than ideal.

"You're another outsider," she said flatly, "Almost like the last one that showed up: a mixed bag of candy and spiders."

"Uh, is that good?" he asked with a confused smile. She quickly sat up from her throne and walked over to him, holding a polygonal piece of wood; Marked all over it were writings that seemed to change as she approached him. She stood just a couple feet away from him, and he could easily see that she was a foot shorter than him. But before Cicero could react, the Yama belted him in the face, four times a cross and once downwards. So that's what the last unfortunate fool was screaming about. "Well. Ouch." He grumbled, rubbing his face.

"I'm going to sum up the lecture," she spoke less formally, and stuck her face uncomfortably close to his. "You're not the worst thing I've ever seen, but you better shape up. I suggest this time around you rip out a few less spines." She returned to her chair, and raised the piece of wood in her hand. "I, Eiki Shiki, the Yama of Gensokyo and the Supreme Judge of Paradise, sentence this soul to human reincarnation in the Underworld. Good luck." The last part didn't ring as well as he'd hoped. The room was silent as she put her hand back down and relaxed in her chair.

"Well, wasn't that flashy? So, what now?" he asked, scratching his head. He'd half expected something to glow at this point. But before anything else had a chance to occur, an eerie oblong hole gaped open beneath him. The Yama grimaced as he fell, but took no action to help him.

Cicero slipped through, his body passing through a thin film dividing one dimension from the other. A distinct chill travelled up his spine as he entered another world of weightlessness. But unlike his state in the blankness of time and space, he retained his faculties. The sight was unsettling, as the only entities in sight were a plethora of disembodied eyes scrutinizing him from within an ethereal magenta background. They shifted erratically around their space as he looked around, as if disconnected from regular perception. He partially enjoyed this detail.

Each eye possessed an empty black cornea indistinct from the others; their shapes were narrower than the eyes of the people he'd seen. The "floor" beneath him was merely a layer of larger variants, some of which gave of spectral glows from their corneas, frequently changing colors. There was little else to see, however, as another oblong gap expanded behind him. An external gravitational pull dragged him towards it, pulling him through the film and shooting another chill through his back. As gravity reoriented, he had little time to right himself, falling this time on his head. He struck stone rather than water, which was enough to send him into a momentary blackout.

It wasn't long before he came to. His back was cold, the surface feeling smooth but uneven. He opened his eyes, waiting for his vision to come into focus. His entire body was sore, especially his head, and he could feel a faint beating in his chest. His heart was coming back to life; perhaps that meant the Yama truly did reincarnate him. An empty black sky was all he could see at the moment, but as his sight regained its clarity, something approached him from the right. He shifted his eyes to see who it was, but the sight of her made his fresh-pumping blood run cold.

A girl with silver-white hair walked up next to him, staring down at him with cold, monotonous eyes. His killer had matched this description, and though logic would have dictated she could be nowhere close, his only though was how she could have followed him here. Her looks combined with the sheathed blade she rested her hand on threw him into a transient silent panic. He eased up, however, after getting a better look at her face. Her expression was much softer than the furious glare his former opponent once gave him. This one appeared more focused, analytical, and above all, calm. Her attired differed as well, being a simple green dress with a white blouse beneath, rather than an all-white cloak. She kept her sight locked onto him for a moment before looking forward.

"He is awake, milady," she stated in a formal, almost subservient tone. Cicero sat up from the ground, rubbing the back of his head; his entire skull throbbed with a subtle ache. This at least confirmed for him that he could still feel pain above a light thrashing. He got off from the ground and himself within the premises of a small house similar in design to that of the Yama's, though still fairly larger. He was in the middle of a modest Zen garden, which happened to bear a handful of boulders in the area. Next to him was a displaced trail amongst the neatly combed rocks, leading from Cicero to a nearby boulder. He could only guess where he'd landed. In front of him sat two young women along the wooden walkway of the house.

"Ah, so he is," stated one. She sounded older, speaking softly, but with greater authority. She looked at me with a relaxed expression, her eyes possessing a unique maroon hue. Her hair was pink—more so than Komachi's—and covered under a mob cap colored in light blue with a white accent. Printed on the front also appeared to be a strange, nearly spiraled symbol in red. Her dress donned similar white and blue colors. With all of this, an unusual set of softly glowing entities floated around her in stationary positions. She extended her hand and motioned for him to approach them.

He did so reluctantly, eyeing the other woman on the left. Her blond hair was much longer, extending to her back. Her violet eyes gazed directly towards him, appearing to be sizing him up. Her dress and cap also donned similar shades of purple. Her expression was one of sophisticated silence—Cicero could tell she was analyzing him in every way possible. But it wasn't her appearance that intimidated him; rather it was what she was sitting on. Instead of perching herself on the walkway like the first one, she floated just slightly higher up, resting on what appeared to be the same kind of gap he fell through. This, combined with the equally unsettling feeling she gave off, made him almost certain she was responsible for bringing him here.

"This is the so-called 'abnormality' you requested me to fetch, yes?" the blonde woman asked. Her tone suggested they were long-time friends.

"Mmm, the nature of his being seems… familiar," the woman in blue responded, hiding part of her face with a fan, "The river even refused to take him."

"I take it you can explain where I am," Cicero cut in, "Everything's been happening sort of suddenly."

The blonde turned her head towards him, keeping her pink parasol rested on her shoulder. She scanned over him once more before looking back at her companion. "If you could excuse us for a moment…" she said.

"Go ahead. I'm still awaiting the dumplings I asked for," she answered with a smile.

In an instant, the blond woman slipped through her portal with another one engulfing Cicero. He found himself in the world of eyes again, this time with the woman next to him. They were already gravitating towards another opening.

"Sooo, I imagine you are an individual with power," Cicero stated. He might as well try to learn who was above whom, or at least who was more worth killing if he needed to.

"One could say that," she responded. The dimension seemed to give off a low grumble as they spoke.

"Could I ask for your name?" he asked.

"I'm afraid that information would not be useful in your hands." She kept her sight locked at the other opening, which slowed its approach over the course of their conversation.

"Okay, what are you then?" he had to get something out of her, ideally how she could create these openings with apparent ease.

"A simple Gap Youkai, you could say."

"Youkai?"

"Demons, apparitions, whatever you might address them as. A youkai possesses supernatural powers."

"Supernatural. I've seen enough garbage claimed to be beyond explanation," Cicero crossed his arms, "Each was no more than a hoax. Everything can be explained by science I assure you."

"Perhaps," she responded, "but if so, tell me the scientific explanation to your uniform. You sound far from anything like a military captain."

"I'm surprised nobody's just asked why I'm a black guy," he retorted, "but fine. Maybe something will surprise me."

"Hmph," she gave with a smile. The gap in front of them expanded throughout the whole dimension, replacing the magenta background with a blue, cloud-filled sky. It'd been too long since Cicero saw a regular sky, which prompted a subtle sigh of satisfaction. "Gensokyo," the youkai stated flatly.

"Bless you," he snapped out of his gaze. Simultaneously, he found himself standing on a gap of his own.

"A theater of magic and illusion. Home to entities living across the spectrum of good and evil. Your new home."

"Mine," he said half-sarcastically. He looked over the plethora of forests and the mountain that ruled over them. Despite its height, they stood far above it. He could see mansions and villages scattered throughout the land, some defying the visual themes he'd grown use to already. "So this is my new prison?"

"For the most part," she said, sinking back through her gap. Involuntarily, he followed through his own. They traveled back to the house and garden. She rested herself next to her companion as Cicero fell back onto the garden, this time away from the boulders. Cicero groaned from the subtle pain he received from the landing before looking up next to him. The same silver-haired girl stood next to him, holding a small wooden rake. She gave off a tired sigh and walked off as he stood up. He looked around and found he'd made another imprint in the garden.

"Oops?" he muttered under his breath then turned to the youkai. "What's your interest in me anyways? You're showing me all of this for a reason," he questioned.

She said nothing as another gap expanded in front of him.

A brief sigh left him as he put on a relaxed smile. "It's not like I was planning to take a break or anything… Alright then, what would you have this poor soul do?" He took a subtle bow, to which her eyes narrowed.

[Author's Note] So this thing is basically a revival of an older fanfiction that I made that sucked all sorts of ass. This one aims to improve on the most basic concept of it while changing everything that used to suck. Which was everything else... So, reviews and comments are appreciated. Here's something important to know though. I'm still learning a hell lot how to write. That pretty much means I'll be pretty slow in updating until I get the hang of things.

AND WHAT'S REALLY IMPORTANT is that this plot is huge. Like REALLY huge. As such, the story's going to probably take a bit longer to wind up than other fanfictions. It's extremely focused on character interactions and development and how people change over the course of the story rather than simply what's happening. And with that added, I added my OC(s) with the mentality that this story ISN'T entirely about them. I really want to make a story that is more centered around the people who interact with them so that you can see how the events of the story change them instead of the OC's, since most of them are manufactured to be flat characters.

I'd like for you guys to give this story a chance, though there may not be as much danmaku insanity and cheesy fandom references as typically portrayed. Lastly, if you're wondering where the "sci fi" aspect of this story comes into effect, don't worry. You won't be disappointed when this story is finished. All I ask is you be patient with me.