Reacquired and graciously accepted from a representative of the Scarlet Devil Mansion on the 5th of Satsuki, Year 187.
Entry #44: Specialty Hand-pulled 'Lamian'
Personal Note: This one's a tough and peculiar one to crack; originated in lands further east and certainly outside the auspices of the Grand Hakurei Border. Formula was obtained from Scarlet Devil Mansion Gatekeeper, Lady Meiling, who hails from her native 'China'. Dish harbours many similarities to our native ramen, though both process and result possess dissimilarities. More research is warranted. Serves two people.
IngredientsFor the broth, you'll need:
600 grams, give or take of beef and/or pork bones.
450 grams, give or take of meat. Any kind will do, though beef shank is the preferred option.
3 and 1/3 cups of water.
1 and 1/3 cups of chicken stock.
Salt, about a tablespoon.
Four slices of daikon (Chinese radish, according to Lady Meiling).
(Optional) Scallions, to taste and chopped.
(Optional) Cilantro, to taste and chopped.
For the spice mix, you'll need:
2 pieces of star anise.
4 cloves.
A third of a cinnamon stick.
2 bay leaves.
2 large slices of 'sand ginger'.
Half a teaspoon of fennel seed.
A third teaspoon of cumin seed.
A two-thirds teaspoon of 'Sichuan pepper'.
Half a teaspoon of white peppercorn.
1 piece of dried orange peel.
A third of black cardamom.
For the noodles, you'll need:
500 grams of flour (preferably around 12% gluten, i.e. 12 grams of gluten per 100 grams of flour. Lower gluten levels result in mushy noodles, and higher gluten levels are harder to stretch, pull, and work with in general).
250 grams water.
5 grams salt.
One teaspoon of sodium bicarbonate (baking soda), dissolved in a teaspoon of water.
Grit.
Noodle Broth
Step 1: Rinse the soup bones and pat dry. Roast them on a baking tray at 400 degrees for 45 minutes. Bring a large pot of water to a boil, and add your chosen meat to the pot. Bring everything to a boil again. Once boiling, remove the meat, discard the water, and clean the pot.
Step 2: Put the meat back into the pot along with the roasted bones, pour in the 3 and 1/3 of water, and the 1 and 1/3 cups of chicken stock. Make the spice mix by combining all ingredients and tying them tightly in cheesecloth with a bit of kitchen string. Add this to the pot as well and season with salt. Bring everything to a boil.
Step 3: Once boiling, turn down the heat to low and let everything simmer for about 2 hours. After 2 hours have elapsed, remove the meat and set aside. Add the sliced daikon (radish) and continue simmering for another hour. After that, use tongs to pick out and discard the spice pouch and soup bones. Taste the broth for salt and adjust the seasoning if needed. The soup base is now ready.
Noodles Proper
Step 1: Make a smooth, firm ball of dough using your flour, water, and salt. Whilst kneading and forming the dough, don't be afraid to rough with it.
Step 2: Divide into two smaller balls, these will be your two servings. Take a ball, flatten it, work in your dissolved baking soda, and knead again. You should notice some resistance at first but feel it fade away as the baking soda works its magic. Repeat for the second ball. Once complete, work the two balls into square log pieces, cover and let them rest for a few minutes.
Step 3: Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Take one log and pull. Bring the two ends of the pulled dough together, and pull again. Repeat the process however many times you'd like; the more pulls, the thinner the noodles. Once done, place your strip of noodles into the boiling pot of water, and repeat the entire process with the second log. Let each serving cook for approximately 2 minutes, then strain of water.
To Serve
Step 1: Place cooked noodles into a decently sized serving bowl. Slice the now-cooled beef shank into thin slices, and fan them out over the top of the bowl.
Step 2: Pour a big ladle of the pre-prepared broth and daikon slices, preferably to the brim.
Step 3: Serve with sprinkled scallions and cilantro, if desired.
A notoriously difficult recipe. Rare and exotic ingredients coupled with a required skill that, in and of itself, necessitates years upon years of mastery and experience. Though, it should be no match for the determination and abilities of a scion of the Konpaku Clan.
T'was a long, tedious trek back towards the lands of Hakugyokurou, as it always had and shall continue to be, but it was nothing compared to what Youmu had endured before. Although, it was not a journey entirely free from hardship.
Her regrettable shortcomings in magical prowess may have been made up handily by her expertise and natural talent with the blade. But alas, the ability to cut a worthless scoundrel from 10 paces away in a mere blink of the eye, was no use whilst bearing a weight comparable to Atlas's burden.
Heh, she was proud of herself for that analogy. Youmu had been told by her master of many myths and legends in the infrequent moments of downtime they had together, contained within many of these sessions were fascinating tales of men and women, gods and mortals hailing from a land far beyond the veil. So, to have the privilege of being able to not only hear these magnificent stories but also imbed their messages and lessons seamlessly within a conversation, were moments of great pride for the half-ghost gardener.
She did not know from where exactly Madam Yuyuko had heard these tales before. Was it perhaps from the vampire sisters of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, in possession of mystifyingly abnormal traditions and shrouded in secrecy? Or were they sourced from her many social calls with Lady Yakumo, the equally enigmatic Youkai of Boundaries, and one of three sages sworn to oversee Gensokyo?
To whomever they belonged to, there was no doubt in Youmu's mind that they were most certainly not authored by anyone even remotely hailing from the Land of Illusions. The sheer, unbridled hypocrisy that would arise from scribing these texts, then immediately proceeding to ignore any of said text's subtext and sophisticated nuance which they would have written; well, she simply found it impossible for any intelligent being to fall victim to such logical dissonance.
Perhaps one day she'll have the privilege of meeting the august minds behind such wonderous tales, however far-fetched an aspiration it seemed. A servant could dream, after all.
Academic and literary interests aside, the cargo she was hauling still weighed like a ton of bricks— probably more, and no amount of philosophical thinking would alleviate that. So best to keep on her mind on track, and focused on the task at hand.
Whilst self-absorbed in her thoughts, a swarm of Hakugyokurou's resident spirits had begun to assemble around her, no doubt intrigued by the sudden arrival of Youmu and her curious shipment. It was a surprise to be sure, but not an entirely unexpected one, considering that there was very little much else for them to do in the barren outskirts of Hakugyokurou. The banalities of spiritual limbo were rather boring, to say the least, so she could not blame them for desperately grasping onto whatever little entertainment they could get their ghostly gripping appendages on.
Though they could be quite the annoying pest at times. It will have to be seen just how long Youmu will be able to stay her sword hand.
Wisps of translucent clouds danced around her— some more opaque than others- as if trying to corral her. Ethereal tails left ghostly trails in their wake, dyed in a mixture of blue and pink. Most had the good sense to draw the line there, but a few dared to try and pass through her person, and although the souls inhabiting them knew very well of Roukanken's potential, showed little fear in their attempts.
The sensation was like no other, the best way to describe it would be as if something solid were to suddenly lodge itself in your body, but not quite, if that made any sense at all. A cold sensation fills your body, and a sinking feeling rises from the pits of your stomach, which soon dissipates as quickly as it arrives. It was a nuisance that anyone else would find bothersome and extremely uncomfortable, but for Youmu, was little more than another part of the job that she had long gotten used to.
A few had hitched a ride on the cart Youmu was dragging along, seated neatly quite nicely on top and in between the cracks of wooden crates and burlap sacks filled to the brim with vegetables and fruits of all sorts. Of course, there was no real reason to be doing such a thing; for them, there was no comfort to be found in lazing about, given their immaterial status. Still, it was charming in a sense to see the recently deceased trying to maintain a sliver of attachment to their previous mortal coil.
It might seem ironic, given her phobia, but Youmu found the presence of the spirits to be comforting. They could not speak and given their current predisposition, could not communicate through body language, but still managed to find their ways to express emotion and meaning regardless. What they lacked in methods of communication, they made up for in wit and dance. Waltzing, zooming, and suspended in the delicate Netherworld air.
The hitodama were the only apparitions whose presence she could withstand, and even then, her heart rate always spiked to dangerously high levels whenever a particularly sly spirit manages to get the better of her. One day, she'll manage to work up the courage to able to look one in the eye and stand her ground— without buckling her knees, that is. But for now, the company of the recently departed will have to do as an acceptable substitute.
If anything, Youmu was thankful that they were there to light up the depressingly dark and gloomy atmosphere, an unfortunate result of the constant, unending night that Hakugyokurou was subject to. Soft, otherwordly phantom glows illuminated her path forward, granting her just enough sight to not trip and fall on the many steps of the long-winded entrance.
As she approached the final few flights, the spirits intensified in their playfulness, performing increasingly elaborate tricks and dances to attract her attention. Youmu, the half-human, would not give them the time of day. The same could not be said for Youmu, the half-ghost.
Her hanrei threatened to take leave and join up with the now sizeable crowd of spirits that had gathered. Her ghostly apparition stretched its tail out like an elastic rope, as if being held back by some unknown force, a visual representation of the half-phantom and half-human's conflict of interests. Ultimately, it was the human half that eventually gave, allowing the other half of her being to participate in ghostly song and dance.
Youmu worried that the others might take it the wrong way— a sign that the stoic and calm facade of the vaunted Hakugyokurou gardener had finally cracked. Fortunately, none seemed to care all too much, despite her ghost-half's blindingly obvious differences compared to the rest of the flock. Whilst the others were more akin to faint orbs of blue and/or pink flame, her spirit was more akin to a cloud that had escaped the confines of its heavenly containment.
It was a sight to behold seeing all the different spirits, all of them varying wildly in shape and form, but always draped in the same mystic blue and pink flame. Contrasted by her spirit half, an indistinct milky white blob bumbling about in the dark, blind as a bat, but still going strong regardless. Outstretching her hand towards a nearby spirit, Youmu gently stroked the ethereal being, remarking at the slightly warm, fuzzy feeling of the thing.
Likely sensing the new development, her spirit half twirled over to see what was going on, making circles around the pair as if trying to get the best angle for a photo. It was a curious occasion, seeing what was technically half of her own being acting as if it had a mind of its own. Then again, perhaps her spirit half was not heeding her conscious feelings, but rather taking orders from her subconscious.
The ancient, hallowed trees that had flanked Youmu's approach began to disappear as she finished her ascent. Dragging her cargo past the entrance walls, she crossed one of the myriad bridges across the miniature moat, finally entering the inner compound. It was rather humble for a supposed castle, with various buildings strewn about, all interconnected and coming together to form a sort of ring around the main mansion, the architecture reminiscent of the homes found in the affluent districts of the Human Village.
Settling down the loaded cart in an empty patch of land, all that was left for Youmu to do was to deposit her haul somewhere secure, preferably somewhere Madam Yuyuko would never dare tread, lest she was to prematurely eat up their entire food supply— again, that is.
So naturally, Youmu dragged her cart over to and dumped its extravagant contents into the now rarely-used dojo building. She would have the time to mourn the temporary loss of a place most sacred to her later, for now, all that mattered was making sure her recently acquired ingredients were safe, and not liable to have entire sections suddenly and randomly 'disappear' over a few days.
Foodstuffs of all kinds rolled out onto the soft tatami mats, kicking up dust gathered from years of disuse. It was a shame that it wasn't visited more often, though she supposed that both she and Madam Yuyuko had little use for it nowadays. Her skills in swordsmanship, while it could always improve, wouldn't see much in the way of advancements in practising half-hearted swings with a bokken. Yuyuko herself abhorred the idea of ever having to participate in a physically strenuous activity of any kind, so she rarely paid any mind to the old building.
What a failure of an instructor she was. If only Grandpa were still here, then maybe he'd be able to do a better job at...
Youmu sighed and meandered out of the dojo, head hung low, to see to the rest of her tasks for the day.
"Lady Saigyouji, are you there?"
Silence.
"I have some snacks laid out on the table here!"
No response.
"I am thinking of skipping lunch today, what about you?"
Still no response. Strange, that usually worked.
It was obvious to her now that Madam Yuyuko had taken leave of both Hakugyokurou and of her senses yet again. She could never quite predict where exactly her mistress was headed, though Youmu mentally braced herself for either a stern talking to by the Enma in the future, or an angry missive from the Hakurei miko if she ever bothered to actually write one.
Although, with all her chores now complete and no one to take orders from, the young Konpaku found herself in an impasse. She couldn't just sit down, take a nap, and wait for Madam Yuyuko to return, but she also had nothing to do. She took immense pride in her thorough and often expedient work, but it also meant that this sort of situation tended to rear its ugly head quite often. A good servant would find something to do, and take initiative, both surprising and charming their master(s).
But as loath as she was to admit it, Youmu was not a very good servant. A professional gardener, accomplished cook, and professional swordswoman she most certainly was. All were titles that she would gladly pin to her lapel and show off for the world to see, the only thing stopping her from doing so was a mixture of both shame and an intrinsic want for humility that her master had long since instil within her.
But most of all, seeing Lady Izayoi and Lady Kaenbyou serve their masters with dexterity and grace that Youmu would never be able to match in a thousand years, certainly put a dampener on her spirit, both emotionally and on the physical manifestation of it. It was an unwelcome wart, burrowing itself deep within the back of her mind, constantly reminding Youmu of her inadequacy in the face of better, far more skilled servants than herself.
Of course, she couldn't have been all bad, considering that Madam Yuyuko was still perfectly willing to keep her as both bodyguard and pleasant company, so she must be doing something right. Otherwise, she would've been cast out long ago, replaced by someone far more experienced in the art of domestic servitude than she.
Then Youmu came to a realisation— an epiphany if you would. Perhaps Sakuya was more diligent and hardworking, and Rin more organised, but she sure as hell knew how to cook. It was a revelation that Youmu berated herself for not having thought about it sooner. Obviously, Madam Yuyuko would employ someone who was a good cook to be her servant, and that someone was her.
It was settled then, instead of pruning yet more flowers that definitely didn't need the amount of care she gave them, or dilly-dallying around and twiddling her thumbs until her mistress returned, Youmu would spend that time preparing a dish so intricate, flavourful and exotic, that it would make the heavens themselves tremble in anticipation.
Making her way towards the main residence, the pitter-patter of her footsteps resounded in the empty lots in between secondary buildings, attracting some of the stray spirits floating around. Their presence calmed Youmu, knowing that she technically wasn't alone in her endeavour. Sliding open the shoji doors, Youmu took a cautious step inside, entering in a way that would allow for her Roukanken to be drawn at a moment's notice.
Her eyes scanned the room for anything out of the ordinary, but her posture relaxed upon nothing drawing her attention on the second sweep. Making her way towards her own quarters, Youmu slid open yet another set of shoji doors to reveal her bedroom, as dull and featureless as always. There was a pristinely made futon lying neatly on the tatami floor, a set of polished night drawers, and an empty cutout in her wall that would usually house her koshirae.
And hidden away, nestled snugly in a far corner of the room, was a small crate, and inside it contained what she was looking for. Walking over and opening the lid, Youmu carefully withdrew from it a compact, yet thick journal, pages yellowed and scrunched from years of usage. Gently blowing off some dust that had already begun accumulating on the top, she opened it and began flipping through the pages for a recipe that caught her eye.
Usually, it'd just be placed beside her pillow, but after a particularly nasty run-in with Lady Kirisame, Youmu thought it best to secure her tomes in a more secure environment. Spotting what she thought to be an adequate recipe, Youmu squinted her eyes, trying to get a clearer picture, and read out the title in her head.
"Entry Number 44: Specialty Hand-pulled 'Lamian'."
Now this, she remembers. Painstakingly copied (and with ascent) from the Gatekeeper of the Scarlet Devil Mansion over the course of several eventful days, this recipe was... rather difficult for Youmu to get her hands on; evidently, she was no Lady Kirisame, and did not possess quite the same level of skill when it came to the art of intrusion. The numerous faint knife scars on her back could definitely attest to that.
Youmu made a mental note to thank Lady Meiling sometime in the near future and set upon the messy, near illegible handwriting that covered the entirety of two pages. Dried crimson-coloured stains were interspersed by slapdash, hastily scribbled lines, comprising what Youmu thought to be the ingredients list.
There was nothing that was particularly of note that the list asked for— nothing that she hadn't already bought or had purchased before, that is- and barring a few missing spices, everything seemed to be in order. Then it was settled, this would be the one recipe Youmu would redeem herself with, and forevermore earn the praise and admiration she so wanted from her mistress. Not that she didn't already get any of it, of course, just that it would (in Youmu's eyes) give Madam Yuyuko cause to act the way she does.
Quickly scanning the recipe again to fully memorize it, Youmu shut the book with a thump and quietly placed her journal back inside the chest, the lid making an awful creaking noise when being closed. She stood back up and headed back to the dojo, putting back on the shoes she had left outside on the veranda.
Reaching the entrance of the dilapidated building, Youmu entered to be greeted with a familiar and veritable mountain of foodstuffs, some she had just recently dumped onto the pile, and others had been sitting there for quite some time. One would think that it'd be more efficient to organise everything, cordoning off individual sections to allow for ease of access and easing of headaches. But the unfortunate truth was if Youmu were to attempt to sort out even a small portion of the heap, she'd take so long that a new shipment would've already been added to it, rendering her efforts moot.
Besides, every minute wasted on not cooking a scrumptious meal was another minute Madam Yuyuko spent contemplating eating that poor Night Sparrow— again, that is.
Gathering the required ingredients, Youmu plopped the bunch onto her spirit half and made her way back towards the main residence. She didn't give much thought as to how it was possible for something technically immaterial to carry on its back such a heavy load, but she had slept on it just fine on scorching hot summer days, so she supposed that would have to suffice as an explanation enough.
Repeating the process with the shoji doors once more, Youmu turned in a different direction than she had last time to happen upon the main kitchen. A masterpiece in craftsmanship, a sizeable portion of the building had been sectioned off, dedicated solely to the placement of an absurdly large and well-furnished cookhouse. It didn't possess any fancy outside-world technologies, a fact that Youmu would frequently lament. But now thinking about it, perhaps it's for the best that Youmu doesn't have access to the conveniences of the modern world— gods know how she'd manage to mess up tremendously.
Following along with the traditional style of her kitchen, there were really only two types of cooking surfaces to choose from; several wood-fired ovens were interwoven between blank counters and several more wood-fired stovetops. Smoke canopies were situated above every cooktop, eliminating any worry of accidental smoke inhalation, though where the smoke went was still a subject of mystery to Youmu, as she had never seen any of Hakugyokurou's many buildings sport a chimney, let alone have toxic fumes spew forth from them.
Perhaps some things are better left unquestioned. Regardless, given that she was the only (material) soul in the entirety of Hakugyokurou, Youmu wasn't going to let an opportunity like this— a rare moment of serenity, of peace and quiet- pass her by, improbable ventilation system be damned.
Youmu unloaded the ingredients one by one onto the rough wooden countertop, the surface carrying scars of frequent usage and of its advanced age. With every item removed, she felt as if a metaphorical weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Or was it literal? Considering the circumstances, it was probably the latter. A moment later, almost everything had been neatly piled onto the countertop, barring the gunny sack filled to the brim with wheat flour.
It was surprisingly difficult to find a reliable and proven supplier of the stuff. Then again, perhaps it shouldn't have come as too big of a shock, given the Human Village's strange attachment towards rice and rice-derivative products. Personally, she actually preferred rice, so they weren't going to hear any complaints from her. It simply vexed Youmu as to why the humble farmer peasant, who spent his days breaking his back, knee-deep in rice paddies, would not instead opt for a far more economical crop, already adopted by a few of his peers and in no short demand.
Maybe tradition is just that hard to let go of, who knows? Whatever the reason, it really mattered little to her; the recipe had asked for wheat flour noodles, so wheat flour it shall have. Speaking of, might as well get started on the dough first.
Drawing her Hakurouken, Youmu sliced open the burlap fabric that made up the sack and scooped out a few handfuls with her palms, dumping the contents onto the counter, forming a small heap of flour. Not the most conventional use for her wakizashi, admittedly, but it did the job all the same. Rolling up her sleeves, she moved the rest of the required ingredients closer to her workbench and got to work.
A cup of water, a pinch of salt, and a teaspoon's worth of baking soda. Mixing the dough was easy, pinching clumps of not-yet-mixed-in flour into the rest of the dough and forming into one big ball. Kneading it would be the hard part; Youmu could already feel the ball of dough offering some pushback and resistance as it acquired its shape. No matter, she'll just have to put more of her back into it, nothing special.
Taking a step back, Youmu fashioned her powder-coated arms and hands into a sort of elaborate choreography, attempting to replicate and reminiscent of the movements performed in those outside-world martial art 'films' Madam Yuyuko had so insisted on her and Youmu watching. Channelling her qi, kinetic energy, or whatever sensation she felt coursing through her body at this very instant, Youmu outstretched her palm into a knife hand, and let out a furious battle cry as slammed her right hand downwards into the dough.
At first, there was no (visible) effect whatsoever, and it would seem as if the little display that Youmu had just put on was not only for naught but also fiercely embarrassing had anyone been present to act as a witness. Disheartened, Youmu lifted her striking hand, only to see that the ball of dough had been sliced cleanly in half. Perhaps it was not so much kneading per se, but it was something, and that fact filled her with a familiar sense of swelling pride, one similar to the kind she felt whenever her mistress would praise her for a job well done.
Maybe she could take on martial arts alongside the study and application of the blade? Grandpa may not have had the time nor drive to teach her while he was still... corporeal, and perhaps the ancient Konpaku Clan techniques (if they existed) were to be lost to her forever, but Youmu was confident that she had the strength and perseverance to see it through; even mastering and creating her own techniques!
Then, a sickening crack reverberated through the formerly quiet halls of the main castle, as a humongous rupture split the wooden countertop into two halves cleanly down the middle, conveniently in the position where Youmu had struck with her knife-hand.
Well, there's always tomorrow. Perhaps she'll have to give this whole 'martial arts training' shtick another go later.
Marisa had expected that she'd have to sneak around, infiltrating the Hakurei Shrine silently. Real shinobi style, you know?
But as she crouch-walked across the wooden floors of the veranda, looking like an ass but admittedly very quiet with her footsteps, Marisa realised something. As sly and cunning as she was, being able to wriggle her way into the Scarlet Devil Mansion's grand library time after time again, she was still no match for the obfuscating airheadedness of the shrine maiden, frighteningly relentless in her defence of what few foodstuffs she has lying around.
So that's why, upon not having a very irritated Reimu walk up behind her and putting a firm hand on her shoulder, Marisa figured that she must be out and about, certainly not anywhere near the Shrine that is.
Heh, score!
Standing back up, Marisa broke into a sprint, racing towards the living room. Slowing down near the shoji doors, she slid them open expecting to find an empty room and a pantry full of perishables, just waiting to be plundered.
What she instead found was the Youkai of Boundaries, elegantly sitting in a seiza, looking very much displeased.
Yet at the same time, looking very much relieved. "You know, I was wondering when you would stop with the ridiculous ninja act and start running like the wild hyena you are."
Calling her super silent sneaking skills 'ridiculous' was one thing, but to say that she looked like some common mutt— at least, that's what she thought a 'hyena' was- whilst running was a whole 'nother thing entirely. Marisa couldn't— no, wouldn't- put up with that sort of smack, especially not from the likes of that uppity gap hag.
"Who ya callin' a dog‽ I'll have ya know that I'm perfectly capable of runnin' all normal like!" she proudly proclaimed, placing a hand palm side down onto her chest.
"That is an awfully low bar you're setting for yourself there."
Yeesh, tough crowd.
"Sure it ain't. Not like I'm lookin' to set any world records or anythin'. Agh, whatsit matter to you, anyways?"
Yukari took a sip from the yunomi she had been holding and placed it back on the table. "I would like to raise to you, a proposition."
"A propa-wha?"
"An offer, Ms. Kirisame."
"Oh." Marisa made sure to note down the word 'proposition' in her mind to sound more fancy and sophisticated in the future. "Sure, whaddya want from me?"
Yukari didn't respond and instead opted to stare at Marisa weirdly. Whatever she said had quite evidently dumbfounded the usually composed sage.
"Just like that?" Yukari said, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "No apprehension, no pushback, no attempt at negotiation, not even any inquiries about why I'm here, inside Ms Hakurei's abode in the first place?"
Marisa shrugged. "Eh, figured that if you're here without Reimu bein' here as well, somethin' real important must be goin' on," she said, walking across to the other end of the table where Yukari was sitting at.
Taking a seat, she grabbed a nearby pillow to cushion her underside. "Unlike some people, I'm usually more than happy t'help out others. Don't matter what their problem is, ya can always count on me t'lend a helping hand. Well, as long as it don't cross a line or somethin' to that effect, ya know?"
Yukari's expression softened, if only ever so slightly, at Marisa's outspoken commitment towards helping others.
"How fantastically naïve."
Raising her hand to silence Marisa before she would invariably begin voicing her protests, Yukari elaborated further. "Yet, such an enviable state of mind to possess."
Marisa stared blankly, gobsmacked. "Huh? So are ya talkin' baloney about me or what?"
"The lady doth protest too much, methinks. Is it really that hard to believe that someone can provide both harsh criticism of their character, whilst also begrudgingly admitting where one has gone right?"
"Yer big words are makin' my head spin, lady. I can read 'em just fine in a book, just don' expect me t'understand your flowery ass spoken prose." Marisa griped, taking off the hand on her chest to cross her arms. "Can'tcha jus' speak like a normal person for once?"
Yukari, for her part, looked intensely unamused. "Well, you're certainly one to talk. Beyond that, I do, in fact, speak normally. It is simply because I just so happen to possess a far more verbose vocabulary than you, Ms. Kirisame."
Marisa opened her mouth to protest yet again, but found her mind drawing blanks in regard to an adequate comeback; she's got her beat there. Damnit, it stung like hell and back to get outplayed like that.
"Whatever..." she murmured in lieu of a proper comeback. "Anyways, just spit it out whatever ya havin' me do."
Yukari regained a soft, composed smile on her face. "A fast recovery, how admirable," she said, causing Marisa to cringe a little at the probably backhanded compliment. "But first, I must ask that you sit in a proper, more formal posture, instead of whatever position you're currently sitting in."
Marisa raised an eyebrow at that, before realising her legs were, indeed, sprawled out like some zonked-out house cat. Quickly moving to seat her legs in a seiza, one much like the one Yukari was sitting in, Marisa tried her best to regain some semblance of her previous decorum. "There, ya happy?
Yukari's smile grew wider. "Very much so."
Brushing the air with her right hand, as if summoning a servant, Yukari opened up a huge gap floating in mid-air, about the size of her, and beckoned Marisa to draw closer.
Though apprehensive, and not fully trusting that Yukari wouldn't just grab her by the hem of her clothes and then proceed to just toss her into the gap, potentially throwing her straight into a situation she has no reason nor drive for her being there. Regardless, she got on her hands and knees and crawled closer towards Yukari and the gap portal, tilting her head slightly to get a better picture.
"My, how unsightly." Yukari teased, seeing Marisa on all fours.
Scowling but going no further to display her displeasure towards Yukari, Marisa settled right next to the gap, so close that she could reach and put her hand through it. Though, it was probably in her best interests to refrain from doing so. Craning her neck to see what was going on the other side, Marisa got a birds-eye view of none other, than...
...Reimu and that wolf tengu guard girl— what was her name? Momiji?- prowling the late afternoon-early evening streets of the Tengu village, as if in search of someone. What few inhabitants were still out on the street during this time, and not either at home or already in an izakaya drinking their sorrows and stresses for the day away, looked at the pair funny, but otherwise paid them little mind. What really got Marisa rolling was seeing the stupid little tokin hat that Reimu was wearing on her head, no doubt the misguided brainchild of her white-haired partner trotting alongside.
"Holy hell!" Marisa exclaimed in astonishment. "What the hell're they doin' there, sneakin' around Tengu town for?"
Yukari turned towards Marisa, face still calmly neutral as ever. "Have you read the newspaper recently? You know, that rag published by the nosy tengu reporter girl?"
"Which one?"
"The one with the normal-looking skirt."
"Oh! Shameimaru?" Marisa said, turning away from the gap. "Yeah, I know her. What about her— oooooh."
Thinking back to the headline of that copy of the Bunbunmaru that Marisa had gotten mysteriously delivered by some unknown benefactor, Marisa could now definitely see why Reimu would be doing such a thing, in such a place, and at such a time. She just hoped that Aya would walk out somewhat not dead after the whole debacle. Hopefully.
"Heh, alright, go Reimu!" Marisa cheered. "But uh, what's this gotta do with us? I mean, jus' let 'em fight it out amongst themselves, right? Been a while since I've had a chance to witness a good one-on-one fight, and not being the one fighting."
"And that," Yukari said, suddenly getting up from the floor. "-is the reason why we must stopReimu and her... accomplice before they do anything too rash. For example, beating the ever living hell out of Ms Shameimaru."
Marisa followed suit, standing up rapidly. "Wha? Why the hell do we gotta stop 'em?"
Yukari narrowed her eyes. "I remember you saying that you'll help anyone out, no questions asked. Or at least, something along those lines."
Averting Yukari's gaze, Marisa murmured an objection. "Within reason, ya pedantic ass..."
"Apologies, I didn't quite hear what you just said. Could you repeat it for me?"
"Um, uh, heh. It was- uh, nothing."
Yukari nodded. "Very well. Then I see very little reason for any more delay." she reached out her hand, inviting Marisa to grasp it. "Shall we?"
Marisa reached out her own hand, linking with Yukari. "Yeah, let's."
Yukari moved to walk into the gap, seemingly intent on dragging Marisa along with her. But just as she reached the precipice, she suddenly halted and turned around to face Marisa.
She had a smile plastered on her face that Marisa found rather odd. It was that sort of smile, the calming and reassuring and almost motherly sort of smile that, if anything, didn't really fit Yukari all too well, considering her usual disposition. Noticing Marisa staring at her, Yukari spoke up. "Don't worry. We're only doing this to protect Reimu."
Suddenly, her face morphed into the familiar smug, pompous look that she so liked to wear. "Besides, I've seen how you stare longingly at her sometimes. Gods know that you'd do anything to protect her, and would absolutely relish in doing so."
Marisa's eyes widened spectacularly, and her face immediately flushed a half dozen shades redder at Yukari's teasing, which to her credit, was somewhat grounded in reality...
Her obvious irritation only served to drive Yukari's antics further. "Now, whether 'tis for your own ego or perhaps something deeper..." she soliloquized, starting to move closer and closer to the gap again.
"...Well, we shall certainly see, shan't we?"
Marisa couldn't just take the implications behind that statement lying down. Exploding out in a furious tirade, she inched closer to Yukari, and inadvertently, the gap.
"Wha—Now, you listen here, ya lil'..."
But before she could go much further, and probably say some things she'd really regret; Yukari pulled on her arm and fell gracefully forward into the gap, dragging the Ordinary Magician along with her.