Song of Knowledge
Red-White Madness and a breakdown of etiquette
A Touhou fanfiction by Lex Imperator
Chapter 1: Fall of the Shooting Star
The Spell Card System. A simple code of combat etiquette, perhaps best equated as Chivalry for Youkai. Nothing truly impossible, a core tenant. After all, if the nightmare monsters that roam Gensokyo were truly to fight at full strength, what world would be left to rule? Yet, how difficult is impossible, really? If the system were to break down, how bad would it truly be? One driven by perfect instincts can surely find a way through even the greatest seeming impossibility. One for whom time is a mere servant could surely find the momentary gaps in an endless barrage... And can the kin of ghosts even truly die? Yes, surely those few who put down what incidents arise from the machinations of the powerful few would find a way...
To one who floats through life, it is easy to assume difficulty and pain are utterly alien, yet this is not true. After all, none live truly in isolation, and not all are so blessed. If a shooting star crashes to the ground in the midst of a moonlit forest, and none are around to hear, does it really break a heart? Perhaps a more pertinent question than any may have anticipated.
On this particular night, the moon glowed with a brilliant lustre. Its maddening rays filtered down through the canopy of the Forest of Magic in a bleached-white caress, briefly illuminating the black and white shape darting between the trees. To the various animals and fairies viewing the shape as it flittered through the forest, it was little more than a blur of black-white cloth and rainbow stars. Clearly, Marisa Kirisame had somewhere to be, and displaying her usual lack of tact, she was heading there with some significant haste. Unbeknownst to these scattered onlookers, a single thought was echoing through her mind, over and over.
"This time I'll beat her," the thought said, "I'll get this all wrapped up with a neat little bow before she even knows it's happening."
The "this" in question was, to the surprise of none, an incident. After all, what else but an incident could draw the magician with such desperate enthusiasm? Perhaps word that the library and wine cellar at the Scarlet Devil Mansion were unguarded might elicit a similar response? Regardless, on the night we here address Marisa Kirisame was seeking an incident, and this time she was confident that she would sort it out before Reimu Hakurei even heard tell of it. After all, at this precise moment, Reimu was sleeping soundly, while she, Marisa, was hot on the tail of the perpetrator.
Ah, the perpetrator; the vital questions still remain. Who, what, when, where, and why? Marisa Kirisame knew the answers, but at this time you, dear reader, do not. Starting with the who, on this night the target was a lesser goddess know as Chishiki Libre. The what was simple, this rogue goddess was riling the fairies of the Forest of Magic. She claimed to be a prophetic figure that would lead them to a greatness they so rightly deserved, if they only placed their faith in her. When and where was deep within the heart of the Forest, starting only three days prior. The final question was the only for which Marisa had yet to pry the answers from any of the forest fairies, but she could guess. After all, a goddess needs faith to survive, and how is a powerless goddess trapped within the depths of the forest to gain faith but from the fairies?
All this was happening deep within the forest, and it was only chance that Marisa found out, she was certain the information had yet to reach the ears of Reimu. A sly grin spread across Marisa's features as she pictured telling her friend that she had successfully headed off an incident while Reimu lay dreaming. She allowed herself a moment of blissful ecstasy at the prospect.
A flash of light split the cheerful fog billowing across Marisa's mind. A screaming sound of bullets flying through the air towards her. The splintering of timber as the shots flew past her head. A flittering of wings as the attacking fairy retreated into the cover of the surrounding greenery. Marisa's smile only grew broader as she dug her mini-Hakkero from her hat; this was what she lived for. The pounding of her heart, the whistling of bullets flying around her. Say what the world would to shun her for it, Marisa Kirisame was addicted to adrenaline.
Marisa Kirisame
Ordinary Starlit Magician
Three hours and many vanquished fairies later, Marisa Kirisame burst into a large clearing, a small scorch mark on her dress the only sign that she had even been close to conflict. A small trail of steam puffed from the maw of her mini-Hakkero, where the warm belly of the device met with the cold night air. She had never been in this part of the forest before, and it was quite a surprise to find a small, run-down shrine, so dense with ivy that it almost blended in with the greenery around it. Paint was peeling from the walls, many of the roofing shingles had long since come free, and yet the building still maintained a quiet dignity. Marisa could almost smell it; there were books in there. Ancient books left abandoned for who knows how many years. Shutting down the incident was nice, but in truth, this was why she was really here. What new magic could she uncover from this old, abandoned place of worship? All that remained was the object of worship herself.
The door to the shrine creaked open on the single hinge still attached, the wood coarse and rotten. To Marisa's surprise, inside the shrine was perfectly clean and tidy; immaculate even. It made her own forest cottage seem like the debris left behind after a battle. Two large bookshelves flanked a small table, on which a large and moth-eaten tome sat. Something about this book seemed to promise answers, as though all the mysteries of the world were contained within its yellowed pages. A faded title adorned it, in a language Marisa did not know. Certainly, it was not Japanese, but nor was it any runic alphabet she was familiar with. The thought of deciphering the language excited her almost as much as the knowledge doubtless contained within.
A delicate hand came to rest upon Marisa's shoulder, as a quiet voice announced the presence of another standing behind her. "Latin," said the voice, "The language is Latin. I can translate for you, if you would like."
Marisa closed the book and leisurely turned to face the newcomer. "No biggie," she replied, "I can figure it out."
The figure behind her was pale, like parchment, with ink tattoos running all across her skin. As Marisa looked, she saw that the scrawlings were written text, in a variety of foreign scripts and languages. She wore a flowing dress of black and silver, mirroring the cover of the mysterious tome. Her hair was black, her eyes a deep brown, and across her face was etched an expression of utter, emotionless calm.
"You the one, then?" remarked Marisa. "The one that's been rilin' up all the faires?"
The woman gave a patient smile. "I don't believe it is fair to describe my actions as 'riling'. I am merely giving hope to a disaffected population. I am sure you understand."
"I do understand, actually. You're squeezin' the faith outta them cuz nobody out here believes in ya. Plu, hordin' all these books where I can't read 'em, ze."
The woman took a step back and spread her arms, gesturing to the bookshelves. "My dear girl, you are more than welcome to borrow from my library so long as you return whatever you take. With that said, you won't, so I do not permit you to remove the books from my shrine."
Marisa tried to look offended. "You callin' me a thief?" she asked, stuffing a nearby book into her hat.
"Given that you are quite literally stealing from me at this exact moment, yes. I am at that."
"How's a goddess even end up here, anyway?" asked Marisa, attempting to change the subject from her present act of burglary.
The woman gave a knowing stare, but answered regardless. "It is a long story, though one I will gladly share. As you may be aware, all that a goddess needs to exist is faith. The book before you," she gestured to the mystery tome, "was written in a far away land called Rome, many years ago. From there it was taken by merchants through other distant lands known as Persia, India, and China, finally ending up here. I don't remember such events myself, for they were before I manifested. This book, see, was written to answer certain questions on life that many have asked themselves. Told this, yet unable to read the writing, a handful of Gensokyan scholars a long time ago believed this book a lost item from the libraries of the Dragon Palace, answering all the questions of the world. In time, the book itself became sacred, and here I am."
Marisa nodded, gesturing for the woman to continue as she flagrantly stripped bare her library.
"I could have told the hermits in this isolated shrine that the answers they sought were not within these pages, yet if they lost their faith… I have no desire to disappear. I told none of them the answers, fool that I was, and eventually most left. Those that remained eventually died, and now I am alone and faithless. It was then that I had a… thought. Everyone wants something to believe in. Everyone wants hope. If I became that which all believed in, the prophet of the desired golden age, I can gather all the faith I need and live forever."
Marisa finished shoving one last book into her dress before responding. "See, not sure I like you takin' over Gensokyo like that, ze."
The woman sighed, as if disappointed. "Really, Marisa, I had thought you wiser. I do not need to truly conquer Gensokyo, I simply need those disaffected, powerless souls wishing for such an upset to believe that I will. All have something that they truly desire. All have faith in that which they believe will give it to them. What do you desire? Magic? Knowledge? Fun?"
"You know my name."
"I know a great many things, dear Marisa. That is, shall we say, my speciality. I know what you want, too, and I can give it to you. All you have to do is trust me."
Marisa tipped her hat downwards and laughed. "If you know so much, you know that isn't gonna fly."
Chishiki Libre
Tome of Knowledge and Desire
Ah, how to describe Danmaku? Surely, such a task is futile. I could tell you of the flickering glow that lit the trees as light poured from Marisa's Master Spark. I could tell you of the thrumming of its energy and the screeching, tearing sound of wood and earth being torn apart, but that cannot describe its intensity. I could tell you of the black-white blur darting through a field of glowing pages, fluttering dangerously as if driven by some malicious breeze, but that cannot describe the frantic nature of it all. Mere words cannot describe the furious activity, the cacophonous noise, the pulsing, vibrating, thrashing mass of adrenaline, panic, light and pain that makes up a battle of Spell Cards.
What I can tell you is this. It was at this moment of bloody, busy, cluttered, chaotic climax that Marisa Kirisame felt most alive. She loved it. Moreover, she was good at it. She held her own against all her powerful friends through sheer skill, courage, and madness. Stardust and light and fury and clamour, this was her canvas, and she was an artist unmatched. It wasn't long before the clamour stopped, the goddess broken. She looked up, ink dribbling from her wounds as blood would, still with that same dispassionate expression.
"This was always going to happen," she stated, a hint of sadness crossing her face. "I went over this fight again and again from the moment I saw you. There was no path where I won fairly, not against one such as you."
Marisa came to a standstill atop her broom, looking down at her crumpled opponent. Frankly, she was disappointed. The way this goddess held herself, she was hoping for a real fight. This almost felt mean, like bullying a fairy. Weren't goddesses supposed to be tough?
"Gee, and after all that talk, too. So, you gonna give it up then? And let me take all your books?"
"You don't quite seem to understand. If I give up the followers I have, I will disappear. I have no wish to die. Right now I have no option but to fight you with everything I have. I sincerely apologise for what I must do."
Ah, this was what she really wanted. The fight wasn't over, and now things were serious. Marisa secured her hat, steadied her mini-Hakkero, and waited for her opponent to declare her next Spell Card…
To a normal observer, it was all so fast that it was indecipherable, but not to Marisa. She was used to thinking quickly, a lifetime of danmaku had sharpened her reflexes well beyond the normal limits of humanity. She was perfectly capable of seeing what was happening. She saw as Chishiki Libre became the first Gensokyan to break the Spell Card Rule since its inception. She saw an impossible wall of deadly pages burst from her with no gaps, no openings. She saw pages peel from the bark of the trees around her as she tried to retreat. She felt the papery tendrils grab the base of her broom, casting her off. She felt her mini-Hakkero slip from her fingers. She felt her lips move, almost on their own, mouthing the last words she would ever say.
"You cheated..."
Deep within the forest, a shooting star crashed into the ground, and none save a dispassionate goddess was there to hear. Nobody else saw the burning pages of the books stashed on her clothing flutter to the ground. No-one else saw the white of her dress turn deep crimson. The goddess alone saw as she stepped over the body, taking the mini-Hakkero in her hands. She alone felt it warming her fingers as she took aim. Only she saw the bright flash of light, the thunderous roar of soil and flesh twisting and breaking.
"I had hoped to avoid this," she said, with no-one else to hear. "I know why those rules were in place. I know that what I have done here cannot be undone. I know the gears this will set spinning, the devastation this will cause. Yet, I am alive. I am here, and you are not. If I have bought myself mere days, that is more than nothing. Do you understand me?"
She gave a brief chuckle, although there was no real feeling to it. "Ah, of course you do not. You do not understand anything anymore. Goodbye, Marisa Kirisame."
In years to come, the small grave deep within the forest would be visited by many. Two dolls would stand guard at either side of the small wooden sign. Flowers of all kinds would be left upon the small patch of soil. In time, the Kirisame Magic Academy would be founded upon the site, where humans, youkai, and every other creature could work together uncovering the secrets of the magical world. For that night, however, all that could be seen was a small patch of soil marked with a wooden sign, engraved with the epitaph, "Here lies Marisa Kirisame, a most unusual magician." A large black hat rested at an angle atop the sign. Two halves of a broken broom lay atop the mound. All was still and quiet; the calm before the storm.
Far away, in a place between Gensokyo and the world beyond it, two eyes snapped open. Reimu Hakurei woke from a nightmare. She had yet to realise that, in truth, her nightmare hadn't even started.
The moon set on a peaceful Gensokyo, one last time. When next the moon dipped below the horizon, it would be over a bloodstained, brutal land.
Reimu Hakurei
Bloodstained Shrine Maiden of a Faded Paradise
This is Lex. This was the first chapter I wrote. Back then, this was a hobby. A toy. I had an idea and I thought it would be fun to play with it.
Well.
It has since become rather more. I wondered what an element of chaos might do to Gensokyo at first, but as I played the story wove together, until now it is so much greater than my starting plans.
It wasn't really until later that I knew what I wanted to do.