The night hung heavy over the human village; the sky was blanketed by thick clouds that hid the moon. The streets were quiet; most folks had long since settled in for the night—except for two drunks who stumbled arm-in-arm through the narrow lanes, their laughter echoing in the night. They sang a half-forgotten drinking song, the words slurred and muddled, but they didn't care. With each chorus, their voices rose louder, disturbing the peace for anyone still trying to sleep.

"Hahaha! Come on, sing it with me!" one of them shouted, throwing his arm around his friend's shoulder. "Louder, let the whole damn village hear us!"

"You call that singing?" the other scoffed, barely able to keep his footing as he tried to match the volume. "You sound like a dying cat!"

Their drunken laughter filled the air as they weaved their way down the cobblestone street.

"Oi!" A voice cut through the merriment as Marisa's father stepped out of his shop, glaring at them with an irritated scowl. "Keep it down, would you? Some of us are trying to get some sleep!"

The two drunks just laughed even louder, one of them waving a dismissive hand. "Sorry, old man! Didn't mean to wake you!" The apology was anything but sincere, and the pair kept stumbling down the road, their voices carrying on.

After a while, one of them—the shorter of the two—paused and looked around with a squint. "Hold up, I gotta take a whizz," he slurred, stumbling toward the back of a nearby house. He fumbled with his belt as he made his way behind the building, out of sight.

As he relieved himself against the wall, the distant sounds of their drunken song continued but then suddenly cut off with a muffled yell and the sharp shatter of a bottle hitting the ground. He froze, blinking and turning his head in confusion. "Oi, where'd you go, buddy?" He quickly pulled his pants back up and stepped out from behind the house, glancing around the now-empty street. "Don't tell me you ran off just like that?"

He shook his head and picked up the discarded bottle, drinking the last swig of the now-flat booze. Shrugging off the strange silence, he continued on his way, stumbling and muttering to himself. "Probably just fell in a ditch somewhere, idiot..."

It wasn't long before he reached the front door of his small house. He fumbled with his keys, struggling to get them into the lock. As he did, a faint crash came from the alleyway behind him. It sounded like glass shattering, followed by a soft rustle as if something—or someone—was moving.

The drunk paused, glancing over his shoulder. "Who's there?" he called out, the haze of alcohol making his voice bold but not sharp. He turned around slowly, the keys still dangling from his hand.

That's when he saw it.

A bright, damning red light bled from the alleyway, casting an eerie glow over the narrow space. It spilt out onto the street, painting everything in shades of crimson. The sight of it pierced through the fog of drunkenness, and he felt a sudden, bone-deep chill.

His eyes widened as he took a hesitant step back, his breath catching in his throat. The keys and bottle slipped from his hand, hitting the ground with a metallic clink and a dull thud.

A scream tore from his throat, desperate and raw, but it was cut short. The crimson light swallowed him up in an instant, and the night returned to its usual stillness, leaving nothing behind but the fallen keys and the faint scent of spilt alcohol.

He was gone.

No one saw him leave, and no one would ever see him again.


Marisa awoke with a groggy murmur, blinking against the dim light of early morning. She yawned widely, stretching out her limbs and scratching her stomach as she sat up. Still half asleep, she rubbed her eyes and glanced around her room. It was the same cluttered mess she knew and loved, with books stacked precariously on the shelves and piles of mushrooms strewn about the floor.

But then, she heard it—a faint sound coming from outside her door, like footsteps or shuffling furniture. Her drowsiness evaporated in an instant, and her eyes snapped open. Someone was moving around in her house.

She leapt to her feet, her pulse quickening, and reached for her Mini Hakkero, the magical reactor glowing faintly in her hand. Gripping it tightly, she hurried toward the door, trying to keep her breathing steady. With a quick kick, she burst into the front room, aiming the Hakkero forward as she shouted, "Stick 'em up, pal!"

The words died on her lips as she froze in the doorway, her eyes widening in absolute shock. The front room—and the shop area—were completely unrecognisable. Her so-called "organised chaos" was gone, replaced by immaculate order. The clutter she had come to associate with home—piles of books, scattered magical reagents, mushrooms growing from odd corners—was nowhere to be seen.

The floors shined as though freshly scrubbed, and the walls, which had once sported faint grime from various magical mishaps, had been repainted a bright, clean white. The air no longer smelled of damp earth and mushrooms but of freshly cut flowers—roses, maybe, or lilies. The whole place was unsettlingly pristine, like a shop in the village that had just opened for the day.

Marisa's grip on the Mini Hakkero slackened, and the reactor fell to the floor with a dull thud. Her mouth hung open as a muffled gasp escaped her. It was all she could manage to hold back the scream that was clawing its way up her throat.

I stepped into the room with a mop and a bucket of water, feeling pretty satisfied with what I'd managed to get done. "Hey, you're awake! Damn, I was really hoping to have the rest of this done before you woke up. You're a deep sleeper."

Marisa's eyes widened in horror as she took in the sight of the spotless front room. The usual clutter was gone, floors scrubbed clean, and walls freshly painted. Even the familiar scent of mushrooms that clung to everything had been replaced by something floral and bright. "What have you done to my house!?" she screeched, bolting around like a whirlwind. "My recipes, potions, emergency stash of mushrooms! The Sacred Eye of the Celestial! Where is all my stuff?!"

Her panicked frenzy hit me like a blast of freezing wind, and I just stood there, the weight of what I'd done sinking in hard and fast. "I... put them all in bags and left them outside," I mumbled, almost as if saying it quietly would soften the blow.

Marisa ran out the door without a second thought, and I followed, feeling my stomach tighten with each step. She tore through the bags I'd piled up in the yard, her hands shaking as she pulled out items from years of collecting and hoarding. The look on her face told me everything I needed to know—this was not the reaction I'd been hoping for. I could practically see the anger radiating off her, and I could barely bring myself to meet her eyes.

"What have you done?!" she shouted again, storming back into the house. Her voice echoed in the now-open space, sounding even louder without all the clutter to muffle it. I hesitated in the doorway, hands fidgeting with my sleeves, unsure if I should try to say something or just let her rage. I watched as she stood in the middle of the room, turning slowly as she took in the sight of her changed home. It was like she didn't recognise it anymore—hell, even I barely did.

"It was always this spacious?" she whispered, almost like she was talking to herself, trying to remember what her house used to be.

"I, uh, had trouble sleeping last night... restless," I began, fumbling for an explanation. "I guess my librarian instincts kicked in. I just wanted to help make this place a bit more, you know, tidy and organised. I thought it could be a surprise, but… I'm sorry?"

Marisa looked like she was ready to let loose on me, and honestly, I braced myself for it. I knew how much her so-called organised chaos meant to her, how she could find a specific book or item buried under piles of random things like it was second nature. But instead, she just sighed, a long, heavy breath that seemed to drain away her frustration, if only a little. "I suppose... it's nice being able to walk around without tripping on something," she said reluctantly, her tone softer than I expected. "And... you did give the walls a decent paint job. It'll take some getting used to, but... I can make this work."

"Really?" I blinked in surprise. "You're not mad? Not even over the fact I threw out all your mushrooms?"

Her whole body tensed up, and I saw her clench her fists. "You what?!" She took a step towards me, eyes blazing, but then stopped herself, squeezing them shut as if she were fighting off the urge to throttle me. "Oh, you… oh, hoo, ha! Ha ha. You silly rascal, you... No... Nope, not mad." She eventually took a deep breath, rubbing her temple. "I... I appreciate the thought, Marcus. Thank you."

The relief was almost overwhelming, but I could still see the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw tightened as she tried to keep herself in check. I wasn't entirely off the hook. "I just wanted to make things a bit more comfortable, that's all," I said quietly, feeling the weight of my intentions shift as I looked around the newly cleaned room. It felt too neat, too different. I hadn't considered that it would feel this way when I started.

"To be honest," Marisa said after a moment, her voice sounding almost tired, "it's about time someone came knocking and sorted this place out. No way I was ever going to do it..." She glanced at me, and I could see a small, crooked smile forming on her lips. "I suppose it'd be selfish of me not to let you make this place more of a home for you, too."

I nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. The knot in my stomach loosened, though it didn't completely disappear. "I just can't believe I managed to do all this in one night..." I muttered, my voice trailing off.

Before either of us could say anything more, a sudden fluttering sound filled the air. A crow flew through the open window, landing on the back of the sofa, a newspaper clutched in its beak. "Extra, extra!" it squawked, dropping the paper onto the floor before flapping its wings and flying out again.

"Huh?" Marisa tilted her head. "Didn't know the Bunbunmaru Newspaper was meant to come today."

"The Bunbunmaru?" I repeated, picking up the paper.

"Yeah, it's run by a tengu named Aya. I don't care for it too much, but it's free, so I just take a glance and throw it away after," she said with a casual shrug.

As I unfolded the newspaper, the headline in bold letters jumped out at me, making my stomach twist into knots all over again.

Marisa was still talking, her voice bright and hopeful. "Say, I thought we could have a relaxing day? Just sit around, chill, drink some tea, read some books? Unless you've got something you want to do today?"

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment before exhaling. The room, with all its newfound openness, suddenly felt too exposed. "And I was having such a good day," I murmured, turning the paper to show her the front cover.

The headline read: "Three More Missing from Human Village as Gensokyo Is in Panic."

The sight of the words drained the warmth out of the room, and the cheery mood Marisa had been trying to set evaporated into the cool morning air. I could see the worry creep into her expression, the brightness fading from her eyes as she glanced from the paper back to me. So much for a quiet day.