It was night-time in Gensokyo. I huddled over at the edge of the lake, pulling my legs towards me, half an eye watching as the water, so still as to be almost dead, rolled over the patches of moss on the rocky step that divided the land between green and blue. The moon was perfectly reflected in the great mirror that lay at the heart of the surrounding forest, and high above, the reflection's source hung on the wall of the sky, glued to the canvas by the waxy clouds plastered lazily across the perennial darkness.
I could never recall a place like this in the world that I once knew, for between the images from my recent travails and the farther, fainter memories of my childhood, there was a large, gaping chasm, as deep as the bottom of the lake that I now sat beside. I cared not to recount what I knew, for nothing that I could remember would aid me in my ultimate aim of escaping this place. Yet, I had always harbored an upwelling of adventurousness within me, and this disquiet, this small flicker, now spread like wildfire as the true scale of this realm became apparent to me. This was not just a patch of forest here and there, or a mansion overlooking a body of water. This was an entirely different world, an elevated dimension where its denizens, though trapped in the past, felt as free to move about as normal humans might do. More so, even, with the help of magic.
What Patchouli had imparted on me in the library of her mansion had left a lasting effect in my psyche. It was a lesson beyond any which could be given by word or by picture. As the events of this diary's first few entries began to sink into me, I began not only to remember, but also to relieve. A worldly lock had been cut; a switch had been flipped deep inside my brain. For the first time, at least as far as my mind would allow me to recollect, I could distinctly feel the nature of the veil draped over all of Gensokyo. It was a pulsating, intangible force that could be disturbed, could be pulled and pushed and toyed with at will by those who knew how to, but it was much too heavy to be lifted.
This, too, led to another revelation – if, somehow, the blindfold was pulled off the eyes of every sentient being that resided here, not only would they lose their magical abilities, but the entire piece of land upon which Gensokyo sat would be violently ripped through time, all the way into the present world as I, and the few other humans that lived here, knew it. If that were to happen, the repercussions would be severe, to say the least, not just for the people in this dimension but also for the people in mine. It was a sobering thought, but at the same time, if it did happen, how could any of us possibly stop it?
I suspected that the key lay with the guardian of the portal between the worlds, who now approached from behind, humming softly to herself, her robe sailing loftily over the grass as she made her way over to me.
"Traveler, you must be hungry." She set down a tray beside me. On it was a plate of rice, accompanied by white chunks of fish, a salad comprised of mixed greens, and the expected bowl of miso soup to top the meal off.
"Thank you. I am famished," I admitted. "It smells delicious."
I could almost hear her smile as she patted her robe down and took a seat beside me. A tiny pebble was dislodged as she took her place in the grass, and it tumbled down into the water, splashing audibly in the otherwise quiet night. Upon contact, the lake rippled obligingly, perfect circles reverberating out into the center of the water, sending shockwaves through the painting of the moon's great white exterior.
I took the rice, plucked a couple of fish chunks from the tray, and began to eat. The shrine maiden watched me intensely.
"It's good," I assured her through a mouthful of food. "Very good."
She lifted a hand to her mouth and giggled. "I am glad."
A twinge of embarrassment shot through my chest, and I completed the rest of my meal in silence. The moon, recovering from the last of the ripples, gazed back at me as I sipped the soup, letting the slightly rough miso stock brush past the back of my throat.
I put the bowl back on the tray and took it as I stood up and made ready to go back.
"Oh no, allow me." Reimu rushed to take the tray from my hands.
"It's fine. You cooked this, the least I could do is wash it for you."
Another rustling through the grass, this one much quieter than the last, drew near.
"You two are like a married couple. Just let him do what he wants, Reimu."
"We are not like a married couple," Reimu snapped. I was lucky she spent the next few minutes embroiled in her usual brawl with Cirno, or she would have seen, even in the waning light of the moon, that my neck was bright red up to my ears.