Marisa stretched her legs over the edge of the shrine's roof, and kicked them about aimlessly.
"Sure is a nice evening, isn't it?" she said, hoping that Reimu wouldn't notice the amount of nervous energy flooding through her body. She clutched the tome in her hands a little tighter.
"I guess so," Reimu said. She sat perched on the edge of the roof alongside Marisa, a large, full bottle of sake the only thing separating them. Marisa's heart beat just a little bit faster whenever she thought about close they were. She could just reach out and touch Reimu, and-no, no, she had to concentrate. She had something to do.
In the distance, the sun splashed brilliant hues of warm red, orange, and pink across the sky as it dropped towards the horizon. No matter how many times they sat up here on the roof, Marisa never got tired of watching the sunset. Lately, though, it'd been a lot harder to focus on it. How could she, when she'd rather be watching Reimu instead? It was a constant struggle to keep her eyes fixed on the distant sun, rather than on how Reimu's dark, beautiful hair glowed in the fading light.
How long had things been like this? Heck, how had she let this happen, dammit? Things used to be so much simpler when tea at the shrine was just tea at the shrine, not an experience equals parts wonderful and stressful that made her feel like she was losing her mind.
"You're weirdly quiet tonight," Reimu said. She leaned forward and rested her head on her hand, regarding Marisa thoughtfully. "What's eating you?"
Marisa took a deep breath. Well, just like she did everything else in life, she was going to take this head-on. She didn't know any other way. She had decided that tonight would be the night, and that was that.
"You see this book?" Marisa said, indicating the tome in her hand. She held it up to the light, and gingerly brushed some dust off of the cover.
"What about it?" Reimu asked. She sighed. "Look, Marisa, are you going to make me read some old grimoire again? I told you before, there's just no point in me doing it. I can't use that stuff. I'm a priestess, not a witch."
"It's not just that," Marisa said. Her heart pounded so fiercely that she was sure Reimu had to be able to hear it. "It's…"
"It's what?" Reimu asked. She looked at Marisa closely, and frowned. "Seriously, what's bothering you?"
"This book, it's what I'd been looking for. I finally found it."
Reimu's eyes widened. She inched backwards, almost unconsciously.
"You don't mean…"
Marisa nodded. "Yeah. It's got the rituals you need to make yourself a magician. That kind of magician."
In other words, a youkai. She didn't have to say it. Reimu might not be a student of magic like Marisa was, but when it came to youkai, she knew plenty.
Reimu's hands gripped the edge of the roof, her knuckles turning white.
"Marisa!" she hissed.
"It's kinda funny, isn't it?" Marisa said. "Now that I found it, a part of me kinda thinks maybe it would've been better if I hadn't."
Reimu leaned towards Marisa, shifting one hand to brace herself against the roof.
"Marisa, is this some kind of dumb joke?' she asked, her voice taut. "Because if it is, this isn't funny. Knock it off, okay?"
Marisa felt the jitters coming on, and pushed them back down. Her heart beat even faster.
"Reimu, I'm not joking," she said. "C'mon, even I wouldn't joke about something like this." She gestured to the book. "It's real, okay?"
Reimu's eyes widened further.
"Marisa, you haven't already-"
"What? No! No, no!" Marisa said hastily, waving a hand. "Do you actually think I'd just do that without even telling you?"
"I don't know!" Reimu fired back. "I don't know what to say about any of this, okay?" She grabbed for the bottle of sake sitting between them, poured herself a very generous amount, and drained it with alarming speed. She looked back towards Marisa, her expression guarded.
"Marisa, if you do it…people from the village can't become youkai. It's my job to stop that. You know that."
"I'd still be me, you know? It's not like I'd start feasting on humans, or somethin'. I'd be just like Patchy and Alice, and they're pretty alright, all things considered. I just wouldn't eat so much of your food."
Reimu hunched over, pulling her legs up to her chest. She didn't meet Marisa's eyes.
"I know," she said, her voice small. "But it's not up to me. It's what I'm supposed to do."
Every nerve in Marisa's body crackled.
"Don't worry," she said. "I know."
She hefted the tome.
Reimu opened her mouth to say something.
Marisa threw the tome as hard and as high as she possibly could, mustering every ounce of strength she possessed.
In a perfect follow-through motion, she scooped up her Mini-Hakkero from beside her, aimed it towards the sky, and caught the book in a roaring blast so hot that, when the furnace went silent a moment later, not even ashes remained.
Reimu yelped in surprise, then looked back at Marisa, confusion plain on her face.
"What did you do?" she demanded, her voice ragged, almost angry. "You've wanted to know how to do that for so long! You just burned it up?"
So, Reimu had known how interested she'd been. Marisa had wondered. She had never liked to mention it directly, seeing as how it could only really lead to uncomfortable conversations.
Marisa tossed the Mini-Hakkero back onto the roof. It landed with a thud.
"I did want that, for a while," she said. "Honestly, studying magic for centuries, it sounded pretty incredible." She met Reimu's eyes. They were glistening. "But I thought about it, and I realized that there's something I want more than that." Her breath nearly caught in her throat. "I don't want to live forever if it means living forever without you, Reimu," she said, forcing the words out. "I love you."
Reimu looked like she'd been struck.
"I don't know if you feel the same way," Marisa continued. "I hope you do. I kinda think you might. But even if you don't, I'd still rather have one lifetime as your friend than a whole bunch of 'em alone."
Reimu sniffled. "Dammit," she muttered, as she wiped at her eyes.
Marisa just sat there, frozen, waiting for Reimu to do something. She'd run out of things to say. In her mental dress rehearsals, this was either the part where Reimu politely but awkwardly rejected her, and she flew home to crawl under a rock and die, or the part where-
Reimu's hand shot out, grabbed Marisa's arm, and yanked, pulling Marisa sideways into her. Before Marisa could react, their lips met, and Marisa's world dissolved into the kiss.
After what felt simultaneously like a nanosecond and an eternity, Reimu shoved her away. Marisa opened her eyes to find her face inches away from Reimu's. Reimu's eyes burned with hot, shining tears.
"You jerk!" Reimu half-yelled, half-sniffled. "I thought you were going to-how could you?" She collapsed against Marisa, warm and shuddering in her arms. A sharp pang of guilt penetrated the surreal afterglow of the kiss fogging Marisa's brain. Plenty of her mental rehearsals had ended with Reimu in her arms, but not like this. Had she gone too far?
"Sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't mean to make you worry like that. I've been tryin' to figure out some big gesture I could make to show you how serious I was about how I felt, and finding that book was like the push I needed. In my head, it was really romantic." She smiled sheepishly. "I guess I'm kind of a grandstander."
Reimu snorted, which turned into a hiccup, then a giggle. "I already knew that about you, idiot. That's one of the things I love about you." A beatific smile came over Reimu's face, and she sank further into Marisa's embrace. "Ahhh, I can finally say it. It's been so hard not to. I feel like I've been walking on eggshells for ages, trying not to say anything weird."
Marisa felt her face flush. "Well, why didn't you?" she huffed. "Think of how stressed I've been tryin' not to say anything all this time! Why'd it have to be me?"
"It just did, okay? I was so afraid I'd scare you away." Reimu looked up at Marisa, her eyes huge. She hiccuped abruptly, no doubt due to a mixture of the sake and the emotions. "I couldn't actually do it, you know," she said.
"Huh?"
"If you became a youkai. I was talking all tough, because I was worried and selfish and thought it might change your mind. I don't care what would happen to me, if Yukari or Kasen would strip away my powers somehow, or whatever they might do to me. I couldn't hurt you like that, no matter what you were, no matter what happened to Gensokyo. I wouldn't."
Marisa squeezed Reimu a little more tightly.
"And I'd never ask you to make that choice," she said.
Reimu sniffle-hiccuped again, and adjusted herself to free her arms to cast about for the sake.
"Hey, where'd the sake go?" she said, after a few moments of fruitless fumbling. "Tonight, of all nights, I refuse to go to sleep sober. We need to celebrate."
Marisa craned her neck over the roof. The bottle of sake lay on the ground in front of the shrine, thankfully unbroken and miraculously upright. She laughed.
"I think you knocked it off the roof," she told Reimu. "When, you, y'know, did that."
Reimu giggled again. "Did this?" she asked. She looped her arms around Marisa's neck, and their lips met again.
"This is real, right?" Marisa said hesitantly after they broke apart once more. " 'Cause it kinda feels like I'm dreaming."
"It better be real," Reimu muttered. "If this is some youkai trick, I'll beat whoever's behind it so badly that they won't get back up." She settled back against Marisa's shoulder, and looked out at the sunset. The sun had almost dropped completely below the horizon, the glowing red and orange giving way to deep shades of indigo and purple.
"What are we gonna tell people?" Marisa asked. "I can't figure out whether I'd rather yell about it to everyone I meet, or keep it to just the two of us, our own special thing. "
"Marisa, this is Gensokyo," Reimu said. "We'll be lucky if half the people we know haven't already heard about it by tomorrow morning." Her face darkened. "I can live with most of it, but I'm going to draw the line at that gossip rag. If Aya prints so much as a line about this, she's dead."
"I'll help," Marisa said. She couldn't suppress a laugh at the mental image of a vengeful Reimu rampaging at the Bunbunmaru News office. That might almost be worth the hassle of Aya spreading gossip about them all over Gensokyo.
The two of them watched the sun slide fully under the horizon, both content with a comfortable lull in the conversation as they bathed in the simple bliss of the moment.
"Are you really sure?" Reimu asked, after a long, tranquil silence. "About abandoning becoming that kind of magician. I know how important magic is to you, Marisa. I can't ask you to give that up for me." She scowled. "Even though a big part of me wanted to, all this time. Gah, I'm so selfish, aren't I? I'm sorry."
Marisa grinned. "Aw, don't beat yourself up, Reimu," she said. "If you weren't so selfish, you wouldn't be so damn cute." Reimu twisted to the side and thwacked Marisa lightly on the arm. "You're not supposed to agree with me," she said, but her cheeks were flushing red, and she was smiling.
"Anyways, yeah, I'm sure," Marisa said. "I spent a lot of time thinking about it, believe me. It's kinda hard to explain, but it doesn't feel like I'm giving it up for you, if that makes any sense? It's more like, I'm giving it up for me, 'cause it's not what I want anymore. I want to stay human. So, don't go moping around all guilty once I start getting gray hairs and wrinkles, okay? I mean it."
Reimu huddled a little closer, the embarrassed smile still on her face. "I understand what you mean. I wouldn't be walking away from the shrine for you, if that's what it came to. It would be for me, because I wouldn't want to be that person anymore."
Marisa's heart swelled at the words. See, I can be selfish too, she thought. She rested her head against Reimu's.
"It feels a little like one of those old stories, doesn't it?" she said softly. "The priestess who would've given up her shrine, and the magician who gave up her quest for immortality. Kinda romantic, don'tcha think?"
Reimu nestled closer still, and closed her eyes.
"I love you," she murmured, her face radiant.
Marisa's heart fluttered.
Long after the last rays of the sun gave way to twinkling starlight, they still sat together on the roof, warm despite the chill of the early autumn night.