"I serve one master, one household, one realm. Traveler, you would do well to remember that beyond the Barrier, there is only subjugation. There is only war, and the cries of skirmishing crows, harbingers of unrelenting devastation. Within, there is only the land, and its many scions, residing in a peace tempered by years of conflict. And there is I, the humblest servant in our world, and hence the greatest it has ever known. I often tell those select few who are foolish - and headstrong - enough to enter, 'Don't take the tranquility of the forests at face value. Behind that veneer of serenity lies a greater danger, one that haunts the minds of the maidens tending to the only constants in this otherwise chaotic world: this Mansion, situated at the heart of it all.'"
She took a sip of her tea, glancing upwards at me as she did so. An angry gleam pierced my vision momentarily whilst she crossed her legs; she then leaned back to fully take in the latest, and very much mortal, addition to the Mansion's vast living room. The knives were still there, strapped to her thighs, as they had been for hundreds of years. Some things never changed.
"You're telling me this, and yet you know I've been here before," I started. But before I could continue, she put up a finger, and the look in her eyes hushed me without expectation of protest.
"Gensokyo changes every time the moonlight swirls in the purple mist. Every time the bamboo thickets rustle in the wind. Every time the halls of the Mansion fall victim to the flowering night." She nodded to herself, as if she had come to realize something she hadn't before. Which, knowing her, must be something truly remarkable indeed. "And every time my mistress ventures out into the realm, too."
"So, every day." I waved a hand impatiently. "Rhetoric won't help you patronize me, Miss Izayoi. Your time with Remilia Scarlet should have told you that much-"
What happened next was something I, as a mere human, could never have even begun to process. One moment, she was sitting there, teacup gracefully in her grasp, and the next there was a dagger at my throat, and perhaps fifteen - no, fifty, even - others hovering in a menacing star around my head. Sakuya herself was glaring down at me from high above, the look of a predator gazing upon its prey all but apparent on her otherwise beautiful features.
"I will not tolerate disrespectful mention of my mistress, traveler," she spat.
For the briefest of moments, I considered retorting. I could, after all, remove myself from my current predicament if I really wanted to. But, with the threat of death very real and very imminent, and my objectives as of yet unrealized, I kept my temper in check and, closing my eyes in resignation, I nodded. Seconds later, I felt the dagger very reluctantly retreat from its position beside my jugular. I heard the armchair opposite me rustle, allowing me to open my eyes again.
Her piety to her mistress has been steadfast and unwavering for so long, and yet if she knew... would she - or could she - continue to be so stubborn, so sure about herself, about this whole affair? And if Scarlet were allowed to do what she had always planned to do since arriving here - heaven knows how long ago that was - would Sakuya's loyalties remain unchanged? Or perhaps - just perhaps - Sakuya already knew, and she was simply biding her time, waiting for it all to come together, like pieces of a puzzle falling miraculously into each other, to form the picture that could turn the great wars of this realm into nothing but petty skirmishes in the face of such an impending disaster?
I took my teacup and drank slowly from it. It was bitter, but the leaves themselves withheld a quiet sweetness, and the essence of the tea granted me a soothing warmth in the cold, harsh climate of the empty mansion. I looked at Sakuya, who looked back quizzically, but with the same self-surety that was evident in everything she did. Deep down, I knew that I would do well to trust her, at least for the time being. Maybe there was hope for this world. We'd just have to wait and see, I guessed.
And just as the last vestiges of that final thought left my head, the giant doors behind me creaked open, the sound shooting fresh dread into my heart. "Speak of the devil" would be a phrase a touch more appropriate than any other in this case, I thought wryly as I stood, and turned the next page in my, insofar, rather unfortunate life.
How did all this come to pass?