Steward Of Paradise At Work

by Tall-Gothic-Guy

I didn't come here to meet shrine maidens or monsters. I didn't come here to erect a cross. No one even told me about magic being a thing here. Actually, I didn't expect myself to be here at all. I was simply chasing a woman who created eye portals. But it beats being a runaway thief. I just wish I knew sooner, that this place will never give me a break, not even God...Bring it on.

17. From Dust You Shall Return

With one final knot, the wrap is now tight and Meiling's arm will reconnect itself in an hour or so. One of the wonders of Youkai regeneration.

"Thank you, boys." She thanked gratefully, looking over the wrap that conjoined her amputated right arm and her bicep stump. She gave little mind to the goblin that dabbed cotton on her bruised cheek, "What would I do without any of you?"

A chorused grunt returned her gratitude and the five goblins quickened the pace of their work without messing up when their leader whistled for them. The right ankle healed back, the 2nd degree burns on her abdomen faded, and her arm guaranteed to come to life at an hour's wait, they quickly departed and reported to their leader, who was reporting everything to the librarian what happened while they were gone.

Patchouli's face kept alternating from worry, exasperation, anger, fear, or relief.

The mistress, who was at a separate crowd, listened in on every word uttered. Her expressions were all full of disbelief and paranoia. Meiling could not miss the guilt in them. Sakuya, who was beside her as always, kept chewing on her lower lip, and her hands rubbed together consistently. The mistress held her face, overburdened by the weight of the events that took place in her absence. Meiling wasn't surprised when a chair suddenly appeared out of thin air behind her and she collapsed on it gratefully.

"Why the bloody hell is Marisa doing here?" Meiling caught the mistress's mutter, even the sound of her gritting her teeth inside her mouth. "….Nearly killed….she wasn't supposed to be here….!"

A group of goblins hurried over to Patchouli with a chair above their heads that looked like it belonged to the guest rooms and quickly slammed it behind the librarian. She looked behind her before immediately collapsing on it, "….we would've been done for if Marisa had not lived….of all the time to be here, why in the middle of the night….!? Not just one but two…! We nearly killed two important individuals that would have cost us our lives…!"

The gatekeeper couldn't hold down her frown.

Patchouli waved the goblins off, prompting them to start repairing the library, again. She didn't bother to ask why there were more than a hundred hobgoblins when the most common number present in the entire mansion is only a mere 49. Whatever is stressing her out, something that was more than her damaged library, it was more important than the number of employees present. It was enough to leave her and the mistress worried.

"Patchy….everything….has gone right…and horribly wrong."

"Yes, as if I haven't noticed that already. My library is destroyed once again, Flandre nearly got raped and killed, Marisa nearly died, and the gap demon's tool is close to death. As if we could not ask for anymore near-dying individuals because of your plan."

"As if we expected any of that!" The Mistress roared, "How could we have known that he had…Demons possessing him and that Marisa was about to be here in the middle of the bloody night during a thunderstorm!?"

"You say 'We', as if we had plotted the plan together. You plotted the plan all on your own, I wanted an otherwise hassle-free and problem-free plan of action that does not involve leaving the mansion, risking the loss of holy blood, the destruction of my library, and the death of one of the most prominent humans of Gensokyo that would have drawn the ire and fury of the Hakurei Red-White to our midst. You simply dragged me along, ignored my suggestions, all for the fact that he was a Christian and he deserved to die because—"

"Okay, fine! Maybe my plan had gone horribly, but—"

"Describing it as 'gone horribly' is a severe understatement. Flandre's health is what's worrying me here. How many she drank from him, that's generally what I'm concerned about here."

"Flandre is not the main priority here—"

"How?" Meiling stiffened. Patchouli's voice had visibly hardened, and the goblins nearby heard it as well that they froze in their work, "How is she NOT the main priority here? Wasn't everything you planned for this evening for her? Or was the gap demon correct?"

The mistress immediately shot up to her feet. Meiling flinched, likewise more than half of the goblin population did. The gatekeeper expected a verbal retort with a violent intonation to come out but the vampire just stood there, seething and glaring, stumbling over what she was supposed to say back.

"Admit it, Remi." Patchouli stood up, looking straight into scarlet eyes. "All of this did not go according to plan, yes, but there is no denying that you indirectly placed your little sister close to her death instead of curing her. It's just you and your petty hatred that led to it. You wanted him to go in a glorious fashion, killing him and curing your sister at the same time." She shook her head, "You couldn't let go, you just couldn't. All these centuries, all these years you still hate them." Her voice was reprimanding, authoritative, and heavy with disdain. The mistress was gritting her teeth amidst the verbal attack, "Can't you see, Remi? Too much time has passed. People changed. Religion too. You can clearly see that Eman was not like them."

"Don't lecture me about change, Patchy!" The mistress growled, "Even if he wasn't like any of them, that religion of his will only serve as the catalyst of the destruction they'll bring to Gensokyo! Everything in that damn bible is an absolute opposition of what Gensokyo is. What do you think he'll do once he sees Gensokyo for what it is!?"

"And you're not going to consider that you might be the cause of that outcome?" Patchouli critically asked, "Because of what happened to him tonight, you gave him the full image of Gensokyo's dark side. What kind of uprising do you think he'll develop with his religion if he ever recovers with what happened to him stuck to his mind?"

"Christians are not meant to be here—"

"Oh, so you're the one deciding the existing religions of Gensokyo now. Since when did that happen, I wonder?" Patchouli rolled her eyes, turning away with her arms crossed. "At least be prepared for the inevitable, Remi. With him under the gap demon's protection, there is nothing stopping him from ever getting back at you for what you did…if he finds out."

The mistress was shaking in rage, her fists clenched so tightly they bled to the floors and her wings were twitching agitatedly. "He won't find out…! What could he do? He's just a single pathetic human!"

"A single pathetic human who has discovered his affinity for fire magic." Patchouli corrected with a droll voice, still not facing her. "If he cannot get back at you alone, what stops him from being accompanied by Marisa?"

The implications slowly dawned on the mistress's fate. Sakuya visibly lowered her head and stiffened, holding her index finger.

"Whatever reason Marisa had for coming here, she will find out why this happened. Nothing will even stop her from telling Flandre once she does either." Patchouli still hasn't turned around to face the mistress but it was clear that the librarian knew how the vampire reacted to it, judging by her visible expressions from Meiling's limited view on her face. "She's a human, she'll sympathize her friend and will gladly get back at you on his behalf. I won't be surprised if your little sister intends to do the same."

"Excuse me?" Meiling raised her hand, then immediately regretted it as the fiery glare the mistress shot at her was enough to freeze her in place. Patchouli's dull stare didn't do much but the look the goblins' gave her was enough to tell that what she's doing is simply stupidity. Swallowing the lump on her threat and trying to calm herself levelheadedly amidst the tension, she continued, "Pardon me for even speaking out of turn, but….I want to know what's going on. Throughout the evening, I've done my best to keep the mansion secured, inside and outside, but there was clearly something at hand to everything, and mistress and Patchouli are clearly involved. Flandre was harmed, Marisa was caught in the crossfire, and a guest almost died. Please tell me what's going on."

The hard stares lingered, and she remained steadfast under the pressure of the atmosphere. With the mistress distressed and furious, Patchouli being dismissive and critical, Sakuya being silent, and the goblins unable to move out of internal disorganization within the building (the one thing that harms their being as a household spirit), a dispute within the Scarlet Devil Mansion's residents are the only things Meiling could not handle.

Finally, the mistress moved and slumped back to her chair, clawing at her own forehead. Likewise, Patchouli sat down on the bedroom chair and sighed heavily. "Fine." She quickly turned to the mistress, "Your permission?"

The vampire raised her head up, glaring through the gaps of her fingers before lowering her head again, waving her hand in a 'go ahead'.

Meiling was not surprised when the goblins dropped whatever task they were supposed to do and gathered around them in a large circle. They too were interested to hear what was going on. They were awake the entire night, witnessing everything that had happened since the start and they demanded the full context of it.

Nobody noticed a silver accessory on a goblin's hand disappearing, not even the one holding it as his attention was solely planted on the librarian.

"Firstly, we thought Eman was just some outsider….

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The silence was not comforting. The quiet of the hallway before the operating room delivered no solace, especially if Marisa could still hear Flandre sniffling on her lap.

Ruffling her head comfortingly, she looked at the door that had Eirin and Reisen currently operating on Eman behind it. There were small square-shaped windows; she was having every urge to look through them but couldn't do so. She didn't have any courage to watch a man get his insides opened up, not while that man received punishment worse than her opened left side.

It goes without saying that Flandre needed someone with her as well.

She needed somebody to cry on. Marisa gladly lent her a shoulder, now that shoulder is matted red with her tears and now she faced her abdomen as her head rested on her lap, silently weeping while Marisa patted her back and stroked her hair.

She said nothing when Flandre retold the story of what happened while she was walking up to the Yama's doorstep, bleeding on the side and while she was healed by the goblins. Eirin only asked what happened prior that led to what happened to him, Flandre retold that he was possessed, fighting her, hurting each other badly in the process, but Eman was the one who was falling apart, unlike her when she kept regenerating. She severed his arm just to make the demon horrified, hoping it would make the bastard leave. There were thousands of them inside him, she didn't know that and she fell to their trap. He was knocked unconscious because Meiling kicked him in the head.

Eirin told them that she'll do what she can to help him and told the two to wait here.

It has been 3 or 4 hours since the doctor had left. Left alone with the kid, Flandre couldn't stop apologizing. Marisa gently told her she understands, but the kid still couldn't stop crying. There's also the fact that the vampire was the main cause of everything that happened. She blames herself for everything.

Marisa couldn't deny that. Even if she points out Flandre's lack of self-control, that doesn't make a difference. It's still her who brought everything to this point. With nothing to say, Marisa hugged her close, forgetting all her reasons to be nervous around her and let the kid weep.

She patted Flandre's back gently while she felt for her scarred left side with a free hand.

It was still sensitive, ticklish but it reminded her just how close she was to actually dying. This wasn't out of the ordinary for her. There had been foes that didn't play with the rules of Gensokyo, and some of them had been gods or elite Youkai. One of them included a genocidal human that just appeared out of nowhere near her home. She was caught off-guard many times before. She managed some of them before, some successfully and most were close-calls.

Flandre's attack was out of nowhere.

Marisa didn't see it coming. She felt the attack coming but the fact that it was Flandre was something she didn't see coming. She doesn't see the girl often, sure, but there were some parts of her that she was very familiar with. The kid was uptight at a point that you would expect from a child, trying to meet social standards with enthusiasm or diligence and not with frustration. She doesn't attack without reason, ever. Whenever Marisa had a misfortunate turn of being in her presence, the kid always call out her name instead of tackling her either in greetings or as an attack because she says it would be rude. And then this, Flandre was an honorable vampire.

Marisa would always try to escape her presence with full subtlety just to not upset the kid but she knew her well enough to know that the kid will never nail anybody in the back, much less when she had just lost in a spell card battle. She always plays by the rules and sticks to them even if it kills her.

Marisa's lip pursed, sighing heavily. Yep, totally outta nowhere. She thought grimly.

Compared to nearly dying where the experience pushed her to start living her life to the fullest afterwards, this effect on her was not so great like she thought. She tried to feel afraid for her life, but her mind didn't seem to settle to the fact that she nearly died for real, despite just how recent it was. It felt more like she merely dodged a chopped tree from crushing her while she stood right next to its impact zone.

In other words: she's basically shaken, not traumatized. Could've been worse, she could've been the target and she would not be here right now. She merely took the blow for him, this scar was just a little something for her efforts. She can admit that she doesn't mind it being on her person for all her life. It kind of looks like something that'll match her character. It's shaped like a heart too, could be worth it.

She was lucky for those goblins. However the hell they knew how to close a large chunk of missing flesh back to her body using magic, she was glad that they did. The next time she goes back there, she'll do her very best to pay them back for keeping her alive.

From what little she gathered while she rested on a guest room's bed with a few goblins attending to her, they had been learning many kinds of magic ever since their employment to the Scarlet Devil. They earned the privilege through good conduct and performance as servants, even said that the mistress loved the fact that Sakuya was getting out of rhythm when there was less to do around the mansion anymore thanks to more than a few extra hands suddenly arriving on the mansion gate one day asking for employment in exchange for a fulfillment of their purpose, which is to watch over the house.

With permission, they learned their magic from the library. Marisa was more than flabbergasted at their sense of camaraderie. Only one goblin went to the library, taking in basic magician knowledge. In the night, that goblin would gather to a meeting with a small group, sharing what was learned to the fullest detail, even including their personal thoughts and opinions for more insight. When they were done, the group of goblins would individually share what was learned to other groups of similar numbers, covering a large crowd in the process. The knowledge would slowly spread throughout the entire goblin population. The first goblin would always fulfill its task at acquiring more knowledge in the day and sharing it in the night, sending the intelligence to the entire population afterwards. The cycle repeated day after day, and later another goblin was sent to the library as well, hoping to cover more ground on magical knowledge quickly. 10 goblins eventually took to the information-gathering from the library, Jergo included.

It didn't take long for the goblins to become magicians of their own right. They boasted that a group of 5 is enough to defeat Meiling. Taken from the gatekeeper's ineptitude to magic, that's no surprise. Marisa, however, doesn't deny that they got a lot of raw power in their hands. A giant red danmaku ball made out of red electricity that could blow up and level a medium-sized house apart? That's too much for a being of their size. When she asked why they would hide such power, it's because they're not supposed to overshadow their masters. They are goblins, their greatness is defined by their loyalty to the house and their strength to protect it. Why would they let her easily break in if that was the case? It's because her usual intrusions keep the goblins exercised and gives them a chance to try out new spells. Plus, her existence kept the mansion and its residents alive and active, hence the reason why they didn't try anything such as extinguish her entire existence with the entire population of 534 hobgoblin servants hiding inside the mansion having massive amounts of magical power and knowledge at their disposal.

When they finished their exposition, that's when a loud solid thud rumbled in the hallway. The hobgoblins wasted no time in leaving the room to find out what it was, she likewise followed, ripping the blood-transfusion tubes out of her wrist and limped out the door before she opted to float. And that's where she found Flandre weeping against the wall, burying her eyes to her knees.

She sighed, stroking the child's bleached blonde head gently. Poor kid. She seemed to have fallen asleep. The crying and the hell she's been through must've been too much, even for a vampire.

…

…

…..

Marisa's brow began to furrow when she realized something on Flandre: she didn't remember her being this….different. There was something about the vampire child that Marisa couldn't point out what but she knows it was there. She found herself being unfamiliar with the girl sleeping on her lap. It was the same clothes, same hair, same wings, same face, same pale skin….yet why does it look like she had a different vampire lying on her lap?

Now that she remembered it….

Marisa quickly looked at the shoulder Flandre wept on: the white blouse was still stained red with her tears. Turning her eyes to the double doors of the O.R., she suddenly realized that whatever was going on inside, there had to be blood. There must be blood and guts showing there.

Why was Flandre not losing control, especially with her great sense of smell along with a lack of self-control?

It was understandable that she had went through horrible things to simply be taken in by her instincts again, much less when she's sleeping and tired, but Flandre was quite exclusive on Eman. Marisa had bled in the fight when her Lævatein nicked her elbow but the vampire didn't seem to care at the delicacy spilling out. But when Eman so much as stunk of his own blood, she went nuts on him. Burning him with the fiery blade had made him bleed, and she saw the hunger slipping out of the kid's demeanor.

But when Meiling kicked Eman in the head, he bled right before her, and Flandre didn't do anything. She was simply shocked at what just happened instead of losing herself like Marisa thought. She wasn't sure just how much self-control the kid had, it's easy to presume that the shock might be greater than her instincts but was it possible that—

"Ah, Kirisame Marisa-san." A dainty voice called out from the opposite side of the hallway beside her.

Slapped out of her thoughts, she turned an irritated eye to the speaker: long and flowy robes that dragged across the floor as she walked, a supremely enviable and pretty face framed by her long, long immaculate black hair that seemed to shine even in the limited light of the hallway. Yep, this girl was Houraisan Kaguya.

"Hey." She simply greeted, patting Flandre's little head gently. "Shouldn't you be in bed? Still too early for 'nother lazy day, don'tcha think?"

Despite the flippant comment about her general situation everyday, the princess calmly replied without the loss of her noble tone, "That would be the case…" She turned to look at the closed window, still presenting the darkness of the night. "…but the night has been stretching on for too long. Morning still hasn't come, and it should be 9:32 in the morning by now."

That got Marisa to frown and leaned forward to get a clear view of the window Kaguya was looking at. The princess slid the window open and the night sky greeted her. Marisa would've taken note of the moon still shining like a big white danmaku orb in the sky if it weren't for the fact that the princess was so captivating and enchanting that would've made an army of men's hearts burn with passion just by being highlighted by her home planet.

"Yeah?" Marisa raised an eyebrow, "How'd you figure that?"

"Every clock and hour hand froze at the hour of 12:59 A.M." Kaguya answered, "The flow of time continued 4 hours prior."

Same time we got Eman here. Marisa mentally noted. "Don'tcha think the clock might be broken?" She asked with a joking smirk.

An amused chuckle escaped Kaguya's lips. It was undeniably soothing to the ears, "I know a thing or two when it comes to the flow of time. I can support myself as correct." She turned away from the window and approached the witch. "May I please sit here?" She gestured to the free space on the bench beside Marisa, the side not occupied by Flandre's legs.

"Sure."

With grace and posture, the Lunarian Princess sat down like a queen with a very ladylike sigh. Marisa couldn't look away. "If you do not mind my asking; may I know what the situation is?" Looking down on the little vampire, Kaguya hovered a hand above the unkempt blonde locks. "Just by looking, I could see that it seems dire." She commented as she retracted her hand and looking at the seemingly fragile structure of her palm, the porcelain and smooth surface matted with ash that caught to her hand from Flandre's locks.

Marisa sighed heavily, the events prior already sending a weight to her shoulders. She suddenly felt conscious with the scar on her left side. She covered it with her hand and patted Flandre's head with the other. "Tonight's been reeeaally shitty, girl. Nearly died, kid here got traumatized…." She turned to the Operating Room, regarding the windows that showed nothing but the white-tiled walls. "….my friend got possessed thinkin' I died and became suicidally murderous trying to kill her." She finished softly, unable to hold up a tough front at the memory.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry to hear that." Kaguya said, bowing her head respectfully in condolences. She followed Marisa's stare, "I assume your friend was lucky to be alive. Worry not, Eirin is taking care of everything. Whatever injuries he has sustained, he'll make it through with Eirin watching over him."

"Even if he lost an arm?" Marisa wasn't able to stop herself before she thought about what she said. Nonetheless, she continued, "Could Eirin make an arm to replace the one he lost?"

"I-I am not sure but I am certain she can." Kaguya slightly stuttered, reeling back at herself for what seemed to be walking into a sensitive topic. "There is still a chance if you could get the missing arm and give it to her. Eirin can reattach it and it'll be as if it hasn't been misfortunately amputated in just a few weeks."

Marisa heavily sighed once again, looking away from her and staring down the shifting little girl on her lap. "Forget it. It's gone. It's been 4 hours already. That arm's prolly dead, not good for a reattachment no more." How would Eman feel once he wakes up, knowing that he lost a left arm? All she knows is that he's not going to be happy, and he might not be the same anymore. He's not left-handed but losing an arm will actually affect his mobility and his usual style. He always used his hands whenever he tumbled or fight. She pursed her lips and eyes began to narrow, her heart wrenching of his loss sympathetically.

Yes. He will never be the same again. All his funny stories and enthusiasm is defined by his habits of tumbling and having a blast at it. Without it, he lost a vital part of himself. What will he become once he realizes what has become of himself now that he is free of the demon's grip on him?

She wiped a rogue tear that leaked out of her left eye with the back of her hand. She sniffled, "Damn it." She muttered.

"I'm sorry." Kaguya apologized sincerely. "I shouldn't have pried."

Marisa irritably waved her off. "No need." Wiping both eyes with the back of her hand, she hung her head back, staring at the ceiling. Both eyes were beginning to water. This evening was a failure. This was a catastrophic blow to her pride as an Incident Resolver.

"This is the shittiest night of mah life." She groaned, hiding the croaking in her voice perfectly well. "The one time I leave an outsider to them, they're just….gone. Of all the times for a fuckin' typhoon to be here, it had to be now…I should'a just sent him back to Reimu. If I had, none'a this would'a happened. He wouldn't have been attacked. Flandre wouldn't have assaulted him….I wouldn't be having this scar on my side. Better yet, I shouldn't have left the fucking place! I could'a had all the time in the world to be working on that fucking bomb any day! I should'a been there protectin' him!" She began to grit her teeth. Each one was a reminder that she failed the ethic of her work. She was supposed to prioritize the lives of civilians and innocents, first and foremost. Her personal want of making him becoming better than he currently is; to see him shine blinded her from the task of prioritizing his safety.

Breathing a shaky breath, she pulled her hat down and covered her tear-filled eyes. "Fuckin' hell." She muttered. She crossed her arms and tried to hold back her tears, ignoring the hand that later held her shoulder comfortably…..and the slightly-tight squeeze on her abdomen.

Marisa sighed.

She raised her hat up, wiping her eyes and looking down. "Ya heard me, din'tcha?" She lacked the usual cheer in her voice, not even a smile.

Cherry red eyes that looked up at her quickly looked away, staring at her abdomen as she held it. "You know who to blame for everything…." She meekly told.

Marisa clicked her tongue, looking away. "I know." She recalled the code of ethics every Incident-Resolver in Gensokyo should know, and found herself shaming herself with them. "I know I'm a screw-up this night." She ignored Flandre's shocked glance, "If ya know how everythin' works in Gensokyo, ya should know that humans in Gensokyo are important, even outsiders who can survive a lifetime here. 'Tween Youkai and humans, it's our job, incident resolvers, to stand in the way." She rested a hand on her forehead, sighing mournfully. "It's pretty clear that I fucking failed my job."

"No! No!" Flandre shot up to her knees on the bench, looking at Marisa distressingly as the blood in her eyes were welling again. "It's not your fault, Marisa-nee! It's mine! Mine! I was supposed to control myself but—"

"Exactly." Flandre looked at her, shocked. "Whether ya couldn't hold it in or otherwise, it changes nothin', Flan."

"But…" Flandre tried to object but her logic over the facts yielded nothing. "…but…."

"You failed….I failed. We screwed up together." She crossed her arms solemnly, looking at the wall. "And Eman paid for all of it."

The child whimpered as she heard his name, the memory of his damaged-self stabbing her gut with an immense weight of guilt. She looked down on her knees as she gripped them, watching her red tears fall down.

Then the door to the Operating Room opened, presenting a worn out Eirin as she snapped each of her fingers.

Marisa was quick to be on her feet and into the doctor's distance, stopping the latter in her steps.

"How is he?" She instantly asked.

"He'll make it." Eirin smiled reassuringly, though it seemed force that something doesn't guarantee her words altogether. Marisa didn't notice and sighed a big sigh of relief. "Admittedly, it was actually tricky."

Blue eyes turned to her, "Tricky….how?"

Eirin crossed her arms and grimaced, making Marisa stiffen, "Due to those spirits inside him, they are actually accelerating his regeneration. Spares me the time to actually perform a very thorough operation. Though, I had to readjust his bones by literally breaking them and readjusting them before they could regenerate to a very inhuman angle. A knee is not supposed to bend forward. I had to close up the internal bleeding though, and I'm quite surprised he managed to survive. We had no O-negative blood, we don't have anything to transfuse into his bloodstream without consequences. He could have bled to death, but he survived.

Flandre joined Marisa in her sigh of relief from the bench, "Oh. Okay, looks like he'll be okay." Marisa remarked.

Then Eirin began to tighten the grip on her bicep, "….There is one thing though…" She told lowly.

"What?"

Pursing her lips, she answered, "He is an outsider, and Gensokyo's humans are adapted to the supernatural and are formidable enough to the point that they could attune to any spirit that possesses them without suffering any physical changes. Him being an outsider, however, his body adapted to the spirits inside him differently."

"How?" Worry began to overtake the two blonde's expressions, "Are you saying there's something else…?"

"…..His body….due to the absurd millions of spirits inside him, his body attuned itself to the possession by changing its own physiology, and eventually, anatomy."

Marisa was the only one to get her, and her face paled immensely at the implications, "You're saying…."

"Yes. He's not human anymore, and it's going to be very likely that he won't be the same man you once know the sooner he wakes up."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

She laid her foot on the clearing, and she subsequently collapsed on her front as if the grass had turned her entire body into a jelly-like state. Her body was immensely heavy, her senses dulled, and her eyes began to see on only one area. The pieces of tiny silver weighed in her hand. Her lungs were screaming for oxygen and she quickly inhaled the air, tasting the air once again. Most of all, she began to feel slow.

She was degraded. She had been degraded into an animal.

And it horrified her, sending her into an agitated state. If she had all her fur back, they would have been fully bristled and erect just to make herself look far more imposing than any predator that would have seen her in this weak and vulnerable state. She would see herself permanently residing in the spiritual realm than to be seen like this. She only had teeth and her claws, she let them bare and open just to show that whatever predator was here will know that she will not let herself be taken away without a fight.

But she knows fully well that she'll die in this fight. Not in the one place where the monsters reign supreme. Whatever pain she'll deliver, the monsters will simply think of good health and they will be whole again from the wounds and dismemberment she'll hand out to them.

She could feel her human body sweating from the face and temple, its heart beating loudly in her ears, and the shaking on its legs and elbows were clear, and it wasn't from the sudden heaviness of the body. Every sound was ringing in her ears: from the rustling wind to the brushing of her skin against the artificial fur Yukari-sama gave to her as she crawled forward when she couldn't even stand up to carry her own body. Not one of the sounds belonged to the monster but she knows that it was aware of her stepping in their territory.

She looked at the pieces of silver in her hand and noticed that her human palm was slick with sweat. Was this how humans fear? Their sweat will spill endlessly, even to their paws? They become reduced into pathetic wrecks where they will not be able to move a single finger!?

Her other hand clenched to a tight fist, a weak growl barely escaping out of her sharp sneer.

This One hates this place! This One hates this stupid human body! But for His Majesty's sake and Yukari-sama's, This One must do her orders!

Crumpling a cluster of grass, she pulled herself forward and crawled with her elbows. She didn't let go of the pieces of silver in her hand. Yukari-sama said to bring it close to the monument so the monsters could see it. The mere thought of them horrified Dispatcher. She didn't dare look up to the monument. They could be nestled there like crows or raptors, eyeing her as she approached like a limping antelope, expecting her to crumble in a single misstep and they'll eat her when given the chance. When she saw the foot of the monument coated with flowers at the top of her vision, she stopped moving forward and held still.

This is it. She's practically within touching distance of the monument, and all of her being is vehemently exposed, bare for the monsters' eyes to see. She stiffened completely, her tail would not have moved either if it was still there. She's completely at their mercy, right under the tip of their claws or the teeth of their jaws. There was nothing she could do to retaliate. Not in this weak and slow body. Yukari-sama made it clear that she will be alone in this. His Majesty will not come to her rescue, her highness even less. She's all on her own.

She didn't want to show aggression but her instincts defied against her and told her to be on her guard; extending her claws and her legs ready to leap. She bit her lip and exerted her own will over her animalistic responses. With a shaky hand, she pushed her upper body up. She dared not look up and see the monsters in their being. Sat on her rear with her ankles resting on either side of her, with a free hand holding up her heavy upper body, she held the pieces of silver and held it up, towards the monument, making sure the monsters see it clearly in her hand.

Her fear began to rise even further and further as she did this. It felt like she was a human cub holding out its paw towards a serpent's maw. Whether the monsters takes the silver or her entire hand, she doesn't know, and that's what horrified her most. She doesn't know.

She truly hated this place.

In a shaking breath, her usual intonation lost due to depending on this land's air, she called out her will to them, "This One be-beseeches the Seeing Wings to…to sanctify the silvers and let known the will of the...the Spirit that rests within them. The One who we-wears these stones will profit….over the A-Accursed and cast out the Ringleader." She opened her hand fully, her fingers no longer touching the silvers and making sure they didn't brush against any of the monster's digits once they decide to take it out of her palm. "Let the silvers dam the Accursed within their burrows and never trouble the Bearer ever again."

The clearing fell silent. The blowing wind or the rustling leaves of trees became nonexistent.

Her eyes widened over this development and she didn't budge a single inch. She was apprehensive but curious, first and foremost. Her eyes looked left and right as her head remained lowered but her weakened body left her looking at a single angle. Her senses were dulled extremely, she couldn't even image the environment in her mind just by feeling the air on her skin anymore. She dared to move her head and look either side of her: only trees and patches of grass.

Frowning questioningly, she straightened her posture a little, only to wobble out of balance when she lifted her supporting hand off the ground and immediately placed it down. Stupid human body! Sneering, she crumpled grass, dirt, and immediately crushed both in her palm. It was actually effortless than she thought. Maybe even in this weakened state, she retained a few strengths with her.

She heard a wing flap.

She instantly became very still and her fears heightened when she processed the implications: it did not belong to a small bird; it did not belong to a raptor either; it was not one of the mountain birds either. It belonged to a very large wing, it came from afar, and she was somehow unable to hear the shift of the wind. This never happens whenever there was an avian taking flight nearby.

The Monsters have come. They heard her request and are descending from the High Place they belonged.

Her instincts were now falling into chaos as the flapping became louder and nearer, the monster about to reach her distance. She desperately tried to rule all her instincts from turning her into an agitated rabbit that runs at the sight of danger, she held her ground and held out her hand that held the silvers. Despite her efforts, she still shook in her place as she kept her gaze on the ground and made sure she doesn't look the monster in the eye or anywhere on its being in particular.

As she listened, she found out that the monster didn't have one pair, it had three pairs of wings. Judging by the sound of each beat, they are large enough to envelop her completely and still have room for 13 more of her. Despite the number or the size of the wings, the trees or the winds weren't disturbed.

It was coming closer, and against her better judgment, she began to inch away from the monument while she kept her hand held out. The cold night was starting to affect her; her feet and her hands were beginning to numb. It did nothing but make her feel like weakened prey that's easy for the hunting. Stupid human body!

She heard more than 4 appendages land on the ground.

She instantly curled into a tiny ball before she realized it, all while her hand remained held out, albeit feebly as her elbow was bent closer to herself than it should for the monster to look at. She could smell nothing and she was too frightened to look back at it. She could hear its footsteps coming closer, and its mere presence was already bearing down on her.

A 'hand' held her shoulder and she flinched, unwittingly letting out a frightened yip, already submitting herself to her fate.

"Fear Not."

It spoke to her. The monster spoke to her. She was further petrified listening to it, it did not sound male or female, and it reverberated in each syllable. She didn't yip the second time when 2 hands held on to her other shoulder and elbow. She locked her bones stiff, she was as still as a tree at this point.

"I Have Heard Thee, Therefore I Shall Do What Ye Hath Asketh Of Me."

Despite how soft the monster's words were, it was powerful enough to vibrate deeply in her bones. She could already feel 4 of its wings hovering around her curling form, as if to protect her. Its grip on both her shoulders and elbow was as gentle as Her Highness's hand whenever she felt like embracing the nearest youngster but she felt immobilized. Its 4th hand was already upon her hand that held the silvers. It had more than 5 fingers and it felt like she was holding the hand of a snake that had fur. She didn't want to know what it truly looked like.

Despite the monster's hold on the silvers, it didn't try to take it off her hand, it rested itself atop of her own and began to do something to it. She could feel its breath flowing into her palm, it was both chilling and warm.

"Come Closer."

She felt herself being lightly tugged by the hands that held her shoulders. Its hold wasn't rough or forceful but she didn't resist and inched forward, her free hand keeping herself balanced. She never opened her eyes and kept her head hung low, showing no aggression. Her breathing has been paced this entire time. The monster, somehow letting go of the silvers, took ahold of her supporting hand and brought them together to her other, the other pair on her shoulders keeping her steady. Afterwards, she could see something bright, yellow, and green lighting up behind her eyelids. She could feel that it was coming from the silvers that rested in both her hands. It was starting to get warm, but not scalding her human palms. It felt like she was cradling a multi-coloured bonfire in her hands. The colors kept mixing and alternating in many bright lights, constantly rippling behind her eyelids.

Then suddenly, she felt a pair of hands grab ahold of both her cheeks and a pair of lips plant against her forehead. Her eyes shot open as a familiar sensation shot across her entire being. Comfort, love, care, fondness, warmth—the sensations one would feel when held and kissed by the Queen of Beasts, she was experiencing it yet again. How did this monster know how to do such a thing? The question was enough to knock her out of the euphoria, and she was used to this sensation just enough to have a coherent thought amidst it.

Just when she had the courage to finally look the monster in its entire being, a pair of arms wrapped around her head and brought her close to its chest, mashing against it with her eyes and keeping them closed. Another pair wrapped themselves around her sides, bringing her even closer and tightening the embrace. Afterwards, the 2 pairs of wings that hovered around her fully enveloped her, leaving nothing of her to be seen from the outside except for her legs.

In touching contact with the monster, her senses were able to grasp a few images of the being's physique in her head just by its mere presence. She finally realized that it had 4 heads, each one looking down on her and it was essentially taller than Yukari-sama, who was already taller than average humans. Even though it was genderless, it had the form of a beautiful human woman. But if one were to look at it from behind, they would see a chiseled man. She thought it was wearing the garbs of humans but no, they were its natural flesh, contorting and shaped in such a way that it would deceive the eyes or send the wrong images in her head.

The next aspect of the monster horrified her the most: There were too many eyes, and every single one looked at her. Even the ones on the back.

She panicked as she discovered this, but she forced all of her will to calm herself down and not lash out like a self-respecting female. She didn't move, she didn't resist, she didn't squirm, she didn't even growl, she played the submissive prey that could do nothing. The monster did nothing more than hold her and flush the delicious and loving sensations to her mind. Her retained coherence allowed her to keep the warm and glowing silvers in her grasp. They seemed to have intensified in their glow, and she could feel their gentle heat crawling upwards to her bicep and inside her torso.

It was comforting.

Every lick of fear in her being was washed away by that warmth. She felt the tension in her body leave in the seconds that followed. The monster's hold did not seem so antagonizing anymore. She seemed to be drawn to the terrifying being. In spite of herself, she pressed herself towards the being's chest, reveling in the care and love that intermingled with the warmth on her chest. She felt its digits stroke the furs on her human head, each digit striking the right spots and she instinctively purred. The many wings that enveloped her form began to tighten in their embrace, shrouding her in a fluffy, feathery, furry, loving heaven.

….

…..

She shot open her eyes, looking in all directions with complete confusion. She was in a clearing of short grass, surrounded by trees. The moon was high in the sky, its gaze resting down on her kneeling and perplexed being. Rising to her feet without even losing her balance, she began to twist and turn in place, looking behind her and in front of her, trying to find the answers to the questions that ran in her sentient mind.

The most prominent question in her consciousness was firmly planted in her head: What happened?

A jingling sound in her hand made her slightly jump just an inch in the air. If she had all her fur back to her being, they would have stood up in all ends in her surprise. Looking down on what she had in her human paw, she suddenly remembered her orders.

Shining from the moonlight, reflecting a shine on her padless paw, it was a hoop of silver rope. Its entire length was beaded with little stones of round silver. There was a shape that dangled from a separate length of short silver rope that was conjoined to the hoop: below the five beads was a symbol that resembled what her Nine-tailed senior called a 'Plus sign'. This symbol seemed different from the 'Plus sign', its horizontal arms were elevated slightly higher from the center the body and there was a tiny silver and unmoving human spreading his arms against it.

Why did Stupid Human wear this? Why should she take this from Groundlings inside Stupid Bat's House?

Locking it inside her hand to make sure it doesn't slip out of her grasp, she turned around once again and beheld the 'monument' that Yukari-sama told her to go to. It was just like the symbol on the silver hoop, only bigger, taller, made out of wood, and there was no human spreading his arms against it. It casted a shadow on the ground before her, looming like a leafless but shapely tree.

She frowned when she saw something below the shadow of the monument's head.

Feather?

Like a cat, she crawled towards it without the use of her hand that held the silvers. Closely eyeing the object, it was discolored and rather….malformed. Its smell was rather odd, and funny. It had some tiny hairs coating its entire length…they seemed to move.

Letting her index digit extend its claws, she tentatively poked the feather—

She instantly shot up back to her feet faster than what should be possible for ordinary beings and escaped the clearing, as far as away as possible. She rejected her supernatural talent of subtlety. She completely blasted her way out of the area with the drive of an animal ruled by its primal fear and its pure desperation to live. In her escape, she collided against branches, slammed against the sides of trees, even other animals, and she decimated them one by one in her mad sprint to a place that was far away from the feather. All the way to the very south side of Gensokyo, she rested atop a mountain that overlooked slightly all of the land and collapsed on her knees.

Gritting her teeth, the trauma shining on her mien, she slouched close to the ground and held her chest, listening to her human body's heart pumping rapidly.

Monster's feather. It was monster's feather.

The 4 heads, the many digits on its hands, the 6 wings, 4 hands, its genderless body, its soft, piercing and powerful voice, its many, many, many, many, many, many eyes!

"HUAAGH!‼ HAAAAAAGHH!‼" For all the times for her to let out a desperate howl that signified a predator's final hour, it had to be at a time where she was doing her Master's orders. This was INDIGNANT!

A bony appendage lashed out all around her, whipping in such speeds it became a blur and created a sonic boom. Earth and stone exploded all around her, her tail venting every hint of her fear in her being out to the nearest nonliving object. Fear of any predator that might take the chance while she was vulnerable, fear of any other living thing that might come near her, fear of the monster coming close towards her, she made sure that she is not worth their energy. She will kill any who come near that wasn't Yukari-sama, His Majesty, and Her Highness.

Then all was silent.

She opened her eyes and found herself kneeling in the massive epicenter of her outburst. What used to be even and slanting grounds of grass is nothing but shattered earth. Patches of ground unearthed as if a large hand had scooped out a piece of the ground and left dirt to fall as it was taken away, piles of dust that would signify the fate of any stone that was near her outburst, she smelled the earth in the air and found out that everywhere around her was a cloud of dust. Her outburst must have been so violent that it could have shook the earth or alerted any prey/predator of her presence. The Stupid Bird Men in the mountain are likely staring at her position, not that they'll see her.

Too much fearful, This One was. Despite her thoughts, she found satisfaction in the handiwork she left around her. Whatever foe or predator that saw her like this will know that she is not easy prey or competition.

She looked at her hand and was glad that the silver hoop is not crushed from her grip. Yukari-sama will be angry if she breaks this. This One should be calm next time.

Looking behind her to see that she hasn't sheathed her tail yet, she closed her eyes in concentration and her throat began to rumble. It was a sound that few could hear, and only the great elephants could do this. In accordance to this, her tail began to shake, then it started vibrating, now rattling, rattling, rattling. The sound echoed throughout the mountain, distorting the sound waves and redirecting them to confused directions. Her rumbling throat intermingled in the cacophony of noise, mixing together like a pit full of snakes. Angling her rattling tail, she panned the direction of the noise towards the direction of Mayohiga. Among these frequencies lies a unique sound that separated it from other noises. Any prying ear will hear a mess but this one little sound will escape their notice. Not even Stupid gods will hear it. Only beings like her and someone like Yukari-sama, who raised His Majesty and Her Highness, had the affinity to hear her message.

The line now connected to Yukari-sama, she relayed her report.

"Yukari-sama…..This One has done her task. What now must she do?"

Her voice sounded zigzagged and ruined as she spoke, a natural effect whenever she does this. Her voice was carefully angled to reach Mayohiga and reach the ears of Her Highness, who will report to Yukari-sama. King was already listening closely, monitoring her like a mentor.

As soon as the dust around her settled, clearing the air and revealing the decimated cap of the mountain to any who looked this way, Yukari-sama's voice rang in her ears.

"You're almost like a walking cellphone when you do that." Yukari-sama commented.

Ceasing the movements of her tail, she replied, "This One does not know what is a sellfone."

"Almost like a notification on Gmail."

"…" Dispatcher said nothing. Yukari-sama tended to say such odd things at times. She never understood any of them, not even His Majesty or Her Highness.

"You look like you just ran a marathon and had a temper tantrum." Yukari-sama commented again.

"This One does not play Human sports." Dispatcher replied drolly.

"I thought subtlety was your specialty."

Her tail instinctively lashed out in annoyance, creating another cloud of dust as she slammed it against the ground behind her. The memory of the monster's form never left her calm whenever she thinks about it. "The task was more dreadful than she thought."

"Oh please." Yukari-sama said condescendingly, "You should have known by now where Queen learned to love her children better. There's a reason why she calls them Benevolent Terrors. They are scary, yes, but they would prefer to hug and kiss you and help you with all your problems rather than do something terrible to you such as devouring your entire existence."

"Why must their bodies be so terrifying?" Dispatcher whined, with all the formality of somebody who preferred to speak as little as possible.

"…you do realize that your Mother looks almost the same way, don't you? Do not forget that King is just as menacing, and your body has already evolved to the point that it could break human minds."

"Her Highness is not This One's mother. Her Highness is This One's Queen. She serves her and does what she says."

"And what can you say about me?" She heard Yukari-sama's voice starting to grow firm. "Is she so above me that you would prioritize her words over mine?"

A grimace made its way to her face. Pursing her lips, she stood up straight and formally replied, "….no, Yukari-sama. Yukari-sama is this one's master." She placed a paw on her chest, her tail now shortening and sheathing inside her back. "She stands above Her Highness, she does what she pleases to Her Highness. Yukari-sama may also do what she wishes to Dispatcher as well."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, do you hear?" Dispatcher was stiffly still as she listened to her master begin a reprimand. "I did say that your employment is temporary but it doesn't valid you acting out of line, acting free, or acting like yourself. Being a shikigami means being an extension of my will. Basically, you are supposed to be my extra arms and legs."

"…."

"What could you contribute, actually?" Yukari-sama's voice was now cold, unforgiving, "Your speed hardly mattered in my affairs. Silence is something I could already accomplish. I can track down everybody I ever wanted. Killing spiritual beings is something you know I could already. What you can do is something I could easily do the same with cunning and not raw power. Just what is it you could possibly give that I do not have?"

Dispatcher was deathly still at the end of her master's sentence; her own existence is being questioned at this moment, and a very adequate answer is the only thing that could save her before she could get terminated from her proper service.

She did not bother to quicken the pace of her thoughts. She brought herself down to a weak level and thought out her answer carefully and slowly. Some gifts she earned as a Master Hunter never involved her general intelligence. Wit and cunning may come together but using her newfound sentience is something she doesn't regularly consider in her hunts.

The hand on her chest now curling into a fist, she imaged Yukari-sama's tall and imposing figure in front of her and bowed. As she displayed her submission and reminded herself of her place, she finally answered, "…..what shall Yukari-sama have This One do to pledge?"

Despite the far distance between her and Yukari-sama, she could feel her master's approving smile shining down on her as if she had done something very wonderful. Her hair bristled proudly at this but did nothing else. She must show her master that she is always and shall ever be, no matter short their time together will be, a servant.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Yukari turned to Queen beside her, who returned the stare with a proud and slightly condescending flare in her beautiful blue eyes, as if she was a teacher who had shown off her student's masterful skills and presented the fruits of her teaching's labor.

"I did say that I was the one who found her, raised her, and trained her into what she is today." Queen remarked, reminding Yukari of her intelligent specialties and her natural tendency to pass that level of smarts to her subjects. "I know very well that she will become a very useful tool to you, my Sweet Master, and she will become proud of what will be thanks to you."

Yukari simply turned to the gap before her, finding herself agreeing with Queen's words.

Apart from Queen, who would not want to fight and accept peace over conflict; apart from King who would do whatever is possible to put himself above all things in terms of power and assert his rule over everything, Dispatcher is the only Shikigami who could easily become involved in the most trivial affairs in Gensokyo. Something that can benefit her and Gensokyo itself.

In layman's terms: Dispatcher could be the Yukari who was not the manager of Gensokyo, not the sage that created it, not the ultimate manipulative mastermind, and certainly not the Yukari who had to constantly put up an image with impossible ease to keep everything in line.

Dispatcher would have all of Yukari's knowledge and power, and still be a thinking, living, and free entity who could create her own life for herself; a life unhindered by responsibilities too great for people who aren't so devoted to the well-being of Gensokyo more than anything like Yukari, and suffer instead the responsibilities of a human who will be pulled into things that wasn't expected or planned for her and go through that event to come out a stronger, wiser human being, no matter the outcome.

Dispatcher's pride will prevent her from becoming that human though, but Yukari and her two lions had already discovered the proper procedure to bridge the possibilities. They just need time and opportunity, lots and lots of opportunity.

Among all the people in the Yakumo household, Dispatcher was the luckiest. Before Chen, of course, the little kitty is too free and still had ways to go before she becomes a proper Shikigami.

Taking the neatly folded brown sack in her hands, she opened a small gap and slotted it in. The bag landed besides Dispatcher's still-bowing form. She doesn't seem to acknowledge the arrival of the object.

"Take that bag and fill it to the brim with holy dust." Yukari instructed, watching as Dispatcher's head turned to the brown thing besides her feet. "Once you're finished, proceed to Eintei and perform the procedure we talked about."

"This One heeds Yukari-sama's command." Dispatcher replied formally.

"Oh, and Dispatcher?"

"….."

"Dispatcher, speak up."

"What does Yukari-sama have to say?"

"When you see him….." Yukari's lips cracked to a malicious grin, "….force him out of my paradise. I don't care how you do it but make sure he knows what he'll face if he ever so much as intrudes Gensokyo. No mercy, no quarter, give him nothing but your entire fury as a being that stood above all of creation."

Yukari's eyes flashed yellow, "Hunt him down for me, Dispatcher."

Dispatcher was deathly still once again, then Yukari saw her form began to stiffen, shake, tremble, the excitement was filling the shikigami's being. The chance to play, the one chance the girl had been waiting for ever since her employment is now given to her.

The sharp-toothed grin on Dispatcher's face was all Yukari needed to know how much she'll enjoy this assignment.

"With pleasure, my Master."

Then Dispatcher vanished from existence along with the sack. Yukari could imagine her already at a shrine or some other place of worship wearing a manic grin on her face as she shoveled heaps of holy dust into the bag with absolute enthusiasm.

"Hmph." Yukari wore a satisfied grin as she dismissed the gap, closing it. She'd love to read the speculations on the Bunbunmaru newspaper about the potholes on all the prominent grounds of the religious figures of Gensokyo.

Then she was immediately assaulted by an affectionate and grateful glomp from Queen, her head cradled in her arms and her face mashed into her buxom mammary glands. The lioness was unmistakably elated for her subject being given the chance to enjoy herself in her work.

This woman's still not over it. Yukari thought apathetically as she tried to push off the deceptively strong lioness, trying to ignore the amused stare King was giving her.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"I'm sorry, Kirisame-san. If there was ever a chance for him to come back as the same person, we can only pray for such a possibility. For now, we can only wait. You have my sympathies too, little vampire."

Eirin's words were not comforting, much less for Flandre, even for how softly and how sympathetic she is. Marisa could settle to pinching her temples and contemplate about her mistake and her failure, but the kid immediately broke down again, albeit silently. Beside her, she hugged her knees close and the red tears ran down her little legs, tiny sobs and sniffles reaching the witch's ears.

Marisa is not sure how long she has been seated like this, thinking and repeating the same thing all over again in her head: You failed. For all she knew, she was getting tired. Tired of it all. This evening was too much for her, the mighty ordinary magician that had been Gensokyo's second best ever since the Scarlet Mist Incident.

As someone responsible for this, she knew she had to face the music. She must, and she will.

She wiped her tear-soaked eyes and stood up from the bench that left her feet mere inches above the ground. She turned to the seat Kaguya once occupied, reminding her that the princess had already departed to give her and Flandre some space.

As she went for the Recovery Room, she didn't have to guess if Flandre is going to join her. She has to. She thinks she's responsible just like Marisa, and it's very likely she had the same thoughts of obligation like her.

A cold soft grip on her hand told her that she was right.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

They both said nothing, they simply watched Eman's form strapped to the bed like a sedated mental patient with numerous tubes plugged into his one and only hand's wrist, especially the machine that substituted the function of his lungs via a breathing mask to his mouth.

They were told that his body will eventually alter the sooner his insides have fully changed, they could see that currently happening. His skin was beginning to darken, color taking place and ordinary tanned flesh settling in. It looked like nothing more than any skin tone Marisa would normally see on the villagers but she knew that this was something completely unnatural. The spirits inside are likely taking control.

There was a large magical seal on the floors below the mattress. Eirin told her that it was to keep the spirits locked inside his body and rendering them completely immobile, like turning Eman's body into a jail for them. Letting them escape is far more catastrophic than Marisa's objection of letting them stay inside her friend's body. She remembered one of the Watatsuki sisters on the moon and found herself understanding that even Eirin herself would know how to deal with supernatural matters like this. She was also told that even if she calls Reimu and have her exorcise every spirit out of the body, they are already too late. Their influence on Eman's body have already went past the recoverable limit.

Marisa tried to be optimistic, even thinking that past the altered physiology and psychology, there was the tiniest shred of Eman's personality and memory that had the possibility to be reconstructed. He won't be the same, simply becoming a shadow of Eman's former self but she held the hope she can honor him by nurturing the new Eman back to his original self in the best way she could.

She lowered her gaze down and shook her head.

It's not possible. He's gone. He ain't the same one I knew 'nymore.

The facts held her from holding on to her hopes. An altered mind does not mean an intact mentality. Had it been otherwise, she could have helped him cope with his new body if he felt angsty about it, but no. This new body of his did not settle with the same person, she wasn't sure if he would come out an amnesiac who doesn't know himself or somebody completely evil like the demon that she would have no choice but to ki—

She stamped her foot, her subtle outburst filling the silence. She wiped the tears that forcefully leaked out of her eyes, sniffling as she did. Flandre's squeeze on her hand did all the comfort it could give her.

Hiccupping, she raised her head up and looked at his fragile form once again. His skin was getting darker.

Crumpling her free hand into a very tight fist, pursing her lips distressfully, she sent him her prayers.

Come back, Eman. You still haven't trained with me yet. I promised ta give ya one and you said ya wanted it. You were the outsider I'd hopes for, don't you fucking throw them away by comin' back wrong!

She turned to Flandre and pulled her close for a hug. It was to console herself more than to comfort the other. As the kid rested her face on her shoulder, Marisa did the same. She wept alongside her. Flandre's cries were expressive, Marisa was far more reserved in her tears. Her shoulders kept twitching upwards in her hiccups, but she forced out her prayers towards the finish.

Flan's been kicking herself ever since. She regrets it, you could clearly see it. She clearly didn't want any of it to happen. But I know that it was all my fault. I should'a been there to keep ya safe. Should'a been there to make sure nobody got hurt.

She became conscious of the scar on her left side. Despite its already stable state, where it was no longer spiking her side like a bear trap clamping her waist, she could still feel it throbbing, shaming her continuously.

It could have ended differently. She could've pulled him down. She could've been fast enough to move out of the way. She could've held up a magical barrier. She could've done something.

Should she still continue blaming herself for something that was completely something she didn't expect? There was no way she could have seen it coming. The fight was over. They won. Any more animosity or grudges are either to stop or put on hold for next time. That was how everything works in Gensokyo with the Spell Card System.

…

….

It don't matter whether I'm to blame for everything or not, dude…..but know this…..I'm going to bear this scar, this failure forever. The next time I watch out for outsiders like you, what happened to you is never gonna happen to any of 'em….

….not again.

So, please…..come back…

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forced out, "Let's go home, Flan."

"…mm…" Flandre replied weakly.

Parting the hug, she took Flandre's hand and led her out. She didn't need to look back to see if the vampire looked over her shoulder to look at Eman one more time before they turned the corner and closed the door.

She took her broom and departed to the Scarlet Devil Mansion as they reached the courtyard. Flandre sat on the broom in front of her, hugging Marisa's front all the way. The witch held her close, her actions seemingly automatic as the energy in her eyes were gone into nothing but a dull haze.

She reached the Scarlet Devil Mansion. The front door was left ajar so she didn't bother blasting it open with a Master Spark. There were many goblins as she floated across the hallway that lead to the guest rooms. She gave them a grateful glance, every single red skin goblin was given her regards as she passed them by, silently thanking them for saving her life. They did nothing as they witnessed the Little Mistress clinging on to her. They seemed to know why, given by their meaningful stares.

Seeing the first guest room, she stopped short before the door.

"Flan-sama…."

Marisa turned to the voice on the hallway just a few feet away from her left. It was Meiling, bare in her black tank top and green dress with white pants. She finally had her arm back, connected to the stump with a tight wrap of cloth. She had the same meaningful and sympathetic look in her eyes just like the goblins, and her gaze never left Flandre….or her.

Marisa knew that face. It was a face that knew what the hell was truly going on in hindsight. She would have felt like interrogating her, or maybe, Remilia or even Patchy, but no. She was too exhausted, and the kid needs to go to bed. She's been crying enough.

The gatekeeper stepped close and opened the door for them both before stepping aside and bowing her head, sympathetically.

She knows something. She fucking knows something. Marisa narrowed her eyes at this but did nothing. She simply floated through the doorway and heard it close behind her with the most subtle click.

After setting her feet down and seating Flandre by the side of the bed, she quickly threw the broom to the corner of the room and removed Flandre's shoes along with her socks. Doing the same to her red vest, Marisa proceeded to remove her own damaged black vest. Flandre removed her hat to place it on the nightstand before crawling underneath the scarlet covers of the bed. Discarding her hat, Marisa kicked off her shoes and gently settled to bed besides the kid. Throwing the covers over herself, she wrapped an arm around Flandre's form and held her close to her chest, letting her cry there if she ever needed to.

Morning was coming. She knew this, even if there was no window in this guest room. The skies will begin to lighten, and probably after one hour, it's going to be very bright.

She will never leave this place with a wide grin on her face ever again.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Dropping the sack right beside her feet without the slightest sense of subtlety, letting its contents puff out of the opening in a cloud of brown, ruining the clean air with a dusty aroma and powdering the pristine floors, she approached the bed that trapped the human.

No, not human. Abomination.

She found him repulsive. He smelled disgusting. The ugly spirits have already ravaged the flesh, turning it into the image of their liking, making sure it is fitting for their control. She could already see the bastard leader that led this felony amidst the millions of legions inside the abomination. He was trying to break through his cage, biting through the bars and chains that held him just so he could continue controlling the body.

Dispatcher was so tempted to kill the abomination just so she could give the bastard leader no chance to escape or even the chance to continue staying alive. Her master, however, has already given her a plan to make the exercise even more satisfying.

Smirking, exposing all the weapons she hid in her teeth to make sure he knows what's coming for him, she adjusted her grip on the silver hoop on her hand and approached the bed, not passing the odd circle on the floor that surrounded it.

With a single toe, she left a single scratch on the circle and severed an interconnection of the seal.

The abomination's body began to shake violently, rattling the odd wires that were linked to his wrist and the binds that held him down to the bed. The ugly spirits inside were going wild, trying to fight over dominance and ownership for the body as their chains were no longer holding them down. The bastard leader was desperately trying to keep them in line, handing out death threats and even handing out punishment to make sure nobody claims the body except him.

Her tail already making sure any noises that were made in this room doesn't escape past the doors, she unraveled the silvers in her hand and hovered it over the abomination's erratic body, over his head—

If the body wasn't strapped to the bed, it would have jumped straight upwards to the ceiling. Instead, the abomination made the bed jump a single foot to the air thanks to the presence of the object she held before it slammed back to the ground with a loud thwack, the noise it made kept within the room. The oddities that were plugged to him were immediately disconnected, some lamely attached to the proper places of his body. Despite the events happening in front of her, she did not notice it and instead planted her full attention to the riot inside the body.

They screamed.

They tried to escape.

They began begging for mercy.

They abandoned their senseless competition and immediately tried to leave the body, leaving their prize behind.

The bastard leader had already squirmed out and was already attempting to escape.

She dropped the silver hoop on top of the abomination's chest, departed from her physical body and immediately pursued the fugitive. There were dozens of others who had breached out of the body as well. Oh no, she will not let them go. They are doomed to die by her claws. They soil her master's wonderland with their filthy presence. The penalty for such indiscretion is the cessation of existence. She reserved something even more painful for the bastard leader Yukari-sama called Satan.

This One's name is Dispatcher, and she does not let Prey escape.

The spirit of a jikininki sprinting away in front of her, she bared her many weapons and pounced in for the kill.

One.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The rosary placed on his chest asserted itself as the miniature version of Eirin's Spirit Prison on Eman's body. Any demon that had any ideas to leave immediately ran back to their cells in fear of the one who was truly in control.

For a few short seconds, everything was silent. The frozen form of Dispatcher slowly lowered her hand to her side and nothing else. Then the rosary began to glow, multi-colored fires that once coated Dispatcher's hands now turning into a large and captivating candle light on top of Eman's chest. Shape began to take form as the fires began to enlarge, shrouding his entire torso with non-consuming fire: the form of a fragile little girl came to be from the flames, made of nothing but holy fire, and she incinerated Eman's corrupted body from head to toe.

The cremation was fast, Eman's body quickly became ash, and even the ash burned, eventually becoming nothing. The tubes, the mask, the hospital robe, and the straps sagged to the sheets as the occupant was no more. The only trace of Eman's body was the imprint on the sheets, no smudge of ash or charcoal on the cloth. The rosary, however, was left elevated in the same level from the floor as if it was held by an unseen arm.

The flames continued to burn even as Eman's body was no more, but another oddity came to be. Tiny lights were pouring out of the fires like a volcano before they floated in the air, seeming like sparks that flew from the bonfire or like fireflies with the illumination of orange and red together. They were countless in numbers, outmatching the electrical fluorescent on the ceiling, filling the entire room with an eerie red glow. The fiery entity on the bed, however, clashed against the oppressive light with her own. She sat on her thighs and looked down on the peculiar object before her.

It was a box-like bird cage, bars on four sides while the top and bottom was an expanse for the bird to rest its feet. What made it out of the ordinary was the murky purple substance that comprised it, and the many red eyes surrounding it that leered at everything. The occupant, or rather, its prisoner was a dove. A yellow dove that blazed with infinite holy fire, a fire that could have done so many things since the day he erected the cross.

There was a red ribbon that was tied into a knot atop the cage, signifying the culprit of this capture.

She carefully grasped each end of the ribbon with thumb and index on each hand and pulled gently, the knot unravelling without difficulty.

The phantasmal box became mist, and the prisoner grew three times its size, rivalling the form of the other fiery entity, and the dove spread its wings proudly over its freedom, casting an even brighter glow than the gloomy red of the room. The tiny dots of red light that filled the room floated away from the magnificent being, as if afraid. Flap, flap, flap, the yellow bird began to beat its wings rapidly. Despite the size and speed of its wings, nothing in the room was disturbed, not even the air.

Then the sack of holy dust toppled to its side, as if pushed, spilling more of its contents to the floor. A whirling motion on the pile of dust occurred like a cyclone about to come into existence. The dove kept beating its wings, and every particle of holy dust that Dispatcher gathered is brought to the air and coated the ceiling like a brown cloudy sky.

The entity stepped down from the bed, the dove took to the air and hovered over the floating crucifix.

Every spiritual being in the recovery room witnessed the reenactment of the creation of man in the Book of Genesis.

Just like its cloudlike impression, miniature twisters of holy dust reached down like hands to the mattress, their numbers counting up to 10. They revolved in a circle around the floating crucifix, and in the middle was a little hill, slowly rising in height and size in as the revolution of the twisters continued.

Once the peak of the dust hill touched the rosary, the twisters dispersed from the circular formation and relocated to other places of the mattress, outlining the impression of Eman's body that remained on the sheets. The entity of fire stepped closer to the side of the bed, head facing down and observed the twisters taking light qualities of holy dust and created smaller mountains atop certain places of Eman's outline.

Soon, the twisters vanished as the last particle of dust on the ceiling was now placed at the peak of the mountain located at the head impression on the bed. The dove rested its feet below the crucifix, disturbing nothing despite the rapid flapping of its large wings.

Like a valley full of mountains that was coincidently arranged to look like a man lying on his back to rest, a bumpy, dusty, and lame rendition of Eman's physique laid atop the bed. There was no detail, no face, no figure, not even the size of the torso was accurate. The entity of fire knew this was her cue: her feet elevated from the ground to make her short form leveled with the tall bed and she sculpted.

Like a master sculptor, she shaped the details of Eman's body with her little digits with the delicate touches of an artist that had the standards of a perfectionist. She began with the feet, shaping them as perfectly as possible to make sure it matched his general structure, carving the proper depth of his soles and accurately traced the gaps between his toes with an index finger. Following up next was the calf all the way up to his hip. As a boy that constantly moved his feet, suffering tall heights and extreme conflict, his structure would be lean and evenly muscled. So the entity shaped the limbs with the details in mind. Whatever scars there were before, they were disregarded as nothing but a blemish that doesn't deserve to be part of the subject and she shaped his thighs carefully, making sure the beefy structure matched the powerful leg strength that aided him more than a million times in his life.

The lower part of the body complete, the artist moved to the next area. First was the abdomen that contained the six pack, the slim waist, and the tight muscles contained within, the kind that was able to withstand blows that would severely harm a lesser man.

After shaping the waist, she delicately carved the lines of the six pack with her fingertips. No rush, no hurry, only patience. A slow and careful patience. Thumbing a spot for the belly button, she proceeded to the torso. The watchful dove moved out of the artist's way and nestled on the 'head' of the subject, continuing its critical observation on the entity's work.

The millions of tiny red lights in the room that once floated and flew like fireflies now held still in midair, as if frozen in time. It gave the impression that they were the audiences of the art-making as well, conducting proper courtesy as to stay away from the distance of the artist and give the artist some privacy for her work. Some were daring enough to watch from above but not close enough to disturb.

Well-defined pectoral muscles and a hardened chest. Strong and broad shoulders that could carry a full sack of rice. The entity kept the smallest detail in mind, even marks and spots on the body that had existed ever since his birth, making sure the final step will be carried out perfectly. With the torso complete, she proceeded to the arms. This one she placed some effort on. Eman was one to use his arms quite often as he did his legs. Not a single day passed where he did not use them in a climb. Lastly, they were his means of self-defense and offense, an arsenal he used more often than his knife. She made sure the bone structure of his wrist and knuckles are as strong as when he was still alive, but also keeping the physical improvements he achieved from that conflict in the library with his witch friend against the vampire child.

…..

….

Now for the head.

This one the entity did not do alone. The dove handled all the details of facial identity, the entity maintained the shape of the head and formed the ears. Every single flap of wings brushed away layers of holy dust and gave depth to the face. Eyes, eyebrows, eyelashes, nose, lips, chin. The dove formed these features with its beak and feet, the design as artistic as the entity's handiwork. Once they were through with the face, they proceeded to rebuild every single piece of hair on Eman's head. A collaborated effort, an impossible task easily taken up by the two.

The red lights were floating much, much closer to the artists, eyeing every procedure carefully with the impression of interest.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

It is finished.

The fiery entity held out her hands as if she was ready to embrace someone, and beautiful colorful fires flowed out of them, shrouding the lifelike body of Eman and letting the flesh come to be. Bones, sinews, organs, skin, and then hair. Conjured merely from the dust of holy ground, the entire human anatomy is remade into its former glory, free of diseases and complications. The Entity also blessed the body with calloused skin, particularly on the palms, forearms, and feet. Eman's life as a thief never guaranteed him luxury.

Then, like a hurricane of bright red, the red lights immediately spiraled into Eman's body like bees to a hive, going through his chest and occupying the empty spectral spaces within. The redness of the room drastically died out, letting the fluorescent on the ceiling and the entities be the only sources of light.

The two holy entities did nothing to the occurrence, only observing each individual spirit to make sure all of them are filed inside. Not one shall leave this room.

The yellow dove turned to the fiery entity and flew to her open hand. She drew it close to her face and gave it the lightest, smallest kiss to its little forehead. The dove trilled delightedly, beating its wings as an expressive display of elation before taking to the air, circling the entire room before descending to Eman's chest, landing its feet. With a spread of its wings, curling upwards like a beautiful crown adorned with feathers, its glowing being collapsed into a cloud of bright yellow light and entered the open mouth and nostrils.

And so, the lifeless body of Eman was given the breath of life.

His heart began to beat.

The electrical networks of his brain began to circulate, strengthening in time.

His lungs immediately expanded—

Eman's eyes opened widely, his upper body shooting upright from the bed and he took a very deep breath before hyperventilating, as if he had resurfaced from the deep sea. Then he fell on his back as quickly as he had sat up. His vision blurred as he blinked, his muscles felt squishy and soft as he unconsciously tensed them in his confusion, every sensation his body felt was several times more powerful than the sense of touch should. The air, the sheets on the bed, the warmth irradiating from the colorful thing beside the bed, everything overwhelmed him.

His mind was too boggled and fresh. He doesn't know his name, he doesn't remember anything, and he did not even realize he was naked. He could barely remember to move.

Then the warm sensation of a hand resting on his forehead drowned out the chaos. The sensations, the confusion, they all lost all importance and Eman focused on the warmth solely. He closed his eyes and relaxed as the comfort filled his being. His breathing slowly became steady, his new muscles softening, and he easily fell back into sleep.

The entity shifted her hand upwards slightly, brushing the strands of silky beautiful black hair upwards to show his pale unwrinkled forehead. With a childlike thumb that glowed alternatively between yellow, green, and orange, she slid a horizontal line on the center of his forehead before creating a vertical line in the middle, shaping a cross that burned colorfully like a very tiny burning coal road on a white landscape before disappearing.

After giving a loving kiss beside Eman's lips, she floated from the floors and nestled on what little space there was on the bed beside him. Thanks to her small form, she managed to snuggle in just fine. Resting her head on the pillow, she draped a little arm on his chest, her tiny hand covering the rosary but still exposing the head of Jesus Christ as He looked up to the heavens and cried out 'God, why have you forsaken me?'.

Like this, she'll be able to give Eman wonderful dreams and fix his scattered mentality at the same time.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Dispatcher came back like a winner of a lottery that had bought everything she ever wanted in the world.

If she had a mouth, she would have smiled so beautifully and elatedly at the amazing hunt she just went through. She wished she wore her physical body all throughout but it was still worth it.

3,021 spirits she had killed. 1,003 she had sent to a Hell worse than hell. 741 she had unintentionally exorcised into nonexistence when she chased them into holy ground. 1 dumb spirit she led straight into her Master's household that made it intrude His Majesty's territory.

Satan….oh, she took her damn time with him. The ringleader was immortal as a spirit, stronger than the rest she had decimated. That made way for all of Dispatcher's playfulness to take place. She chased him all over her Master's land, snapping at his 'heels', clawing at his 'ankles'. She turned him into her toy, and cats like to play with their food, much better when they're alive for her tastes.

If he had been alive, he would have begged, cried, and bled on the ground with all the countless unique wounds she could have left on him. She would not even give him the satisfaction of death. She'd let him live, just so she could have a potential prey to chase later.

He did fought back when she found him, exchanging fatal blows that could have split open the earth but at some point he ran away screaming in terror as he witnessed something in her hands that she was unaware of, something about fires. She didn't care what it was. If it made her prey run like any prey should, then she will relish every moment she heard him scream and watched him run.

When she finally cowed his stubbornness, Satan ran to the very edge of Gensokyo, bypassed the Hakurei Barrier, and Dispatcher laughed her ass off as she watched him 'bleed' in his escape.

It felt like an eternity had passed in her hunt, and she had a ball doing so.

Stretching her stiff muscles that weren't there, she passed through the wall of the Eintei Mansion, through the hallways, through the kitchen, through the supply room, and into the Recovery Room where her physical body remained standing stiff like a rock.

Now inside her body, she opened her physical eyes, sampled the air with her physical lungs, stretched her real stiff muscles, yawned widely that exposed her wicked teeth, and she exhaled vocally, the intonation of her voice betraying no relief.

Now acquainted with the physical plane of existence, she turned to the body.

Every wire and oddity that was once wired to him is now removed from him, simply dangling from the floors or lying there. The binds also were slack against the ground, no longer suppressing him like a serpent's prey. The cloth and blue fur that once covered him is lying under him. Now he is naked like a newborn whelp, pale-skinned and weak, ready for any predator's chance.

He smelled differently now, a lingering aroma of smoke she once smelt from her hunt in holy ground places. Tilting her head, she found out that the riot inside him had been quieted. They were not fussing, they were not cursing, and they were not even plotting against each other. They were sullen, sullen of the newcomer that was with them.

Could the newcomer be why the flesh of the body is now human? Compared to every ugly spirit inside, she felt unreasonably docile to this clean spirit.

She neared close to the body, sniffing all the while. The human did smell like the smokes from holy ground but other than that, he was scentless. There was nothing that identified him as unique just like everything in existence should. Maybe the smoke made him that way.

Hmm….

There was another clean spirit residing inside the silver hoop and symbol on his chest. It seemed to be doing something directly to the human's spirit, which affected the physical body.

Maybe that's why her master told her to bring it to the monster.

With an extended claw on her index finger, she opened a slit on his cheek. Tiny trickles of blood leaked out, sticking to the point of her nail. Bringing it to her lips, she licked it.

Ah…Adam's blood…

At this moment, she suddenly became as farseeing as her master now that she found out. The fact that this human was attacked, possessed, killed, and reborn while having the blood of Adam told her many things of the foreseeable future. She was starting to understand why she was brought here, including the reason why she was allowed to continue existing despite having nothing but redundant use for her master.

"Now you know my plans, Dispatcher." Yukari-sama's words immediately rang in her ears amidst her epiphany.

She closed her eyes and bowed solemnly, "This One now understands. She will never question Yukari-sama again."

"Good kitty. Now take him out of there. I think he's had enough with hospitals."

"Yes, Yukari-sama." She scooped the human from the bed gently, slipping one hand behind his back to lift him upright, placed the silver hoop properly around his neck, and lick the cut she left on his cheek, letting the special antiseptic on her saliva clean the poison she left on it before she placed the other behind his knees. Picking up the empty sack on the floor with her tail, she pushed open the doors and walked out into the night the sooner she found a window.

For a moment, all was quiet in the recovery room. Then a dimensional rift comprised of an otherworldly violet and gaping red eyes opened above the formerly occupied mattress. From that rift, a dainty gloved hand poked out holding a small bag, creating a jingling sound as it was placed on the sheets. The surgery fee.

Afterwards, the hand drew back into the rift, only to come back with a folded piece of paper, with very exquisite handwriting on the front that says 'To Eirin'. Patting the note tenderly as the hand placed it down, it drew back into the gap with a silent farewell, taking the shredded pants of the outsider in another room.

The note, however, was freshly made, and it couldn't stay folded for long as its written contents are steadily exposed.

Thank you for your troubles. I'll take it from here.

-Y.Y.