It had been a week since the potential of my newfound powers had truly been awakened, though even now I still felt a slight tinge of fear at the prospect of having magic running freely through my system. As a human-turned-magician in the vein of Marisa and Reimu, amongst others, I was now subject to the same unspoken rules that governed the practice of magic within the realm of Gensokyo: I was free to use my magic to resolve conflicts – not that I particularly wanted to involve myself in any whilst I was here – but I was, as might be expected, forbidden from using it to commit any misdemeanors. Given the freedom of movement that teleportation magic granted me, this applied more to me than it did to most other magic users – I could ostensibly teleport in and out of people's properties at will, even if my inherently strong sense of morality forbade me from even entertaining the thought of it. Plus, it would not be a good idea to parade my powers around the place – power inevitably attracts trouble, and trouble was the last thing I wanted when my knowledge and study of the magic I wielded was still very much incipient.
I now had sufficient practice teleporting myself in and out of Marisa's cottage at will, though the mildly nauseous after-effects of such a move were things I had yet to become totally accustomed to. The problem now, rather than actually performing the spell, was keeping my thoughts in check so as to prevent myself from teleporting outside accidentally – during the first few days of my training, I often allowed my thoughts to drift to the day's training sessions, only to find myself materializing in the cool night air outside the hut, dropping painfully into a cluster of leaves whilst the ever-alert Marisa came running out, brandishing her broom and lantern, to find me curled up in a fetal position on the forest floor, nursing my bruised shoulders and limbs. Ultimately, I learned that it was my paranoia over my accidental teleportation that really led to my teleporting unwillingly, as the more I worried about it, the more I actually thought about it – pink elephants in the room and all that. I decided to focus my attentions towards gleaning more information on the surprisingly rare type of magic that had been bestowed upon me, and the more I learned, the less I feared, and so the more control I asserted over my own body.
One morning, I awoke to find Reimu taking on a most unusual position. She was sat, cross-legged, floating about a meter into the air. Surrounding her were two black-and-white orbs, circling her frail-looking, yet quietly powerful and serene form. The red drapes on her robes fluttered in a psychic, intangible wind of Reimu's making, and on the floor was a cluttered mess of spell cards and paper charms, glowing dimly in the light of the nascent dawn.
For a moment, neither of us said anything, though I sensed that Reimu must have seen or heard me coming, for the density of the shimmering mirage surrounding her diminished as I approached.
"You are up early," she noted. It was still dark amidst the thicket around us, though it was still bright enough to make out the silhouettes of the trees guarding the clearing near the cottage.
"I am." I gestured towards the orbs, still hovering menacingly nearby. "What are they?"
"They are yin-yang orbs." As I moved closer, I noticed the telltale symmetrical pattern of the yin-yang emblazoned across their surfaces. "They are porous crystals of spiritual energy, so powerful that one orb may contain enough energy to fuel the strongest spells of a dozen magicians. They feed on my energy, helping me keep my reserves in check from time to time."
"I have never seen them before. Do you not use them often?"
"They are both my trump card and my last resort, in a way. They take from my reserves and propel themselves forward in bursts of pure energy, and anyone who touches them while they are volatile are burned by the sheer force of their power. Even I must admit that I cannot fully control them – I must will them to move, though doing so expends a considerable amount of my internal strength. I have been feeling slightly bloated lately, however, so I am using them to sap some of my magic before it overflows."
"I see." I sat down beside her, scaring a curious cricket in the process as it darted away. "How did you come to have these orbs?"
"They are treasures passed down through the Hakurei line. Through my parents, and their parents, and their parents before them."
"Where are your parents now?"
"I don't know." I looked up and saw that Reimu, eyes closed as she meditated, had creased her features into a small frown. "And I do not care to know."
"I understand." Thusly the matter was closed.
A slight rustling above our heads disturbed the fragile tranquility of the morning forest. To my surprise, a broom, followed by a large, flowing dress and an oversized witch hat, came floating down, touching down lightly in front of Reimu's still-seated form.
"I thought you were still asleep in the hut," I said.
Marisa brushed a few leaves off her shoulders. "I was checking on my shop. Heaven knows I don't do it often enough."
"That is true. You have been with us the whole time we've been here."
"It can run itself," Marisa replied offhandedly, though that served only to confuse me even more. "I also stopped by the human village to do some groceries. Only way to beat the rush is to go early, after all."
"That only applies to human cities. I'm surprised anyone else is awake at an hour as unholy as this."
"People here wake up at the first light and sleep at the last. Plus, we're pretty lucky that I decided to pop by early."
"How so?" I had an inkling of what Marisa might say next, but she quickly sought to confirm my worst fears.
"What else do you think?" she said. "Byakuren's just left for Makai. She wanted to go in cover of night – at least, that's what Kosuzu told me."
Reimu's eyes sprang open. "Then we must depart now. The Palanquin Ship does not wait for anyone. Even on Marisa's broom we would be hard-pressed to –"
The sky abruptly darkened, as if a shadow had been cast over the entire clearing. Sure enough, as a great creaking echoed around the forest, shaking the wildlife from their slumber as they began to complain noisily, we looked up to see a giant wooden hull, reinforced by strips of glowing steel and silver, held aloft by naught but the perennial breeze pushing on its feathery sails, and the will and quiet rage of its immortal captain.
"Speak of the devil," Marisa muttered.