Stardust Revoir
"102,900円"
Late in the evening, every day, when I would settle into my studies, when I would open the old, mouldy, stale-with-rainwater, reeking-slightly-of-petrichor ledger, I would see that number, gently have the ledger closed and return downstairs to the storefront, where I would see you, perched still by the windowsill.
And I would call out:
"Marisa?"
And you would not respond. Instead, you would stare at the night sky, occasionally cupping your hands together as though a glittery thing had had the misfortune of entering your vision and you being who you are would grasp at it and would not let go until your boundless curiosity for all things shiny had been sufficiently sated.
And I, seeing that, would, at random, fetch a book from the top shelf and make my way to the window, too. You would look away from the window for the only instant of that evening, and depending on whether the book is of any interest to you, you would respond only with a "Thank you" or a "No thanks", take the book or hand it back to me, to then resume scanning the night sky. If you had returned the book, I would head to the counter, where I would greet my customers come morning, and read it instead. If you had not, I would fetch another book and then read that one. As you reflect in silence, so too will I read.
And nothing would be amiss at all, for I knew the Stars were aligning. They had been for some time now.
The gates to the World of Stars shall open soon.
By morning, I would wake up on the hard, cold wooden surface of the counter and see you have already gone out for the day. I would brew myself some tea, get the morning news from the newspaper lady, but I would not read it, for the winter is cold and the heater had run out of kindling. And then, I would open the shop.
Much as I hate to admit, the business I run falls rather short of "prosperous", with only your friends coming over for tea, you yourself returning for something you forgot, or the odd actual customer every now and then, but that's an especially rare sight. I realise I don't see you around the shop to "borrow" my wares anymore.
Well, who knows. Maybe you just got so good at it that I can't even tell now.
But more often than not, I would read the day away until noon would come and I would close up shop. I would dress myself up and head to the river near the barrier, where items from the Outside World would occasionally drift in, ripe for the taking.
I remember this was where I gathered all the components for your Hakkero. I remember giving you the Hakkero, then the roaring sound, then the smell of burnt grass, and the not-inconsiderable hole in the barrier, with you sprawled on all fours, face down on the soil afterwards. Yukari gave me an earful for that.
Even before that, this was where I saw you learn how to fly. I saw how you learned to love the cool air that weaves through the gaps of your palms as you take to the sky. I saw how you learned to love the blue of the morning sky, and beyond that, when your play flights extended well past sundown, the night sky and the Stars above too.
There was this one time, just when we were about to return, you would just blurt out:
"I wanna go up there."
And I would scoff:
"Really? To the World of Stars?"
And you didn't say anything after. Even now, I don't know what I meant when I scoffed at you. Did I not think the World of Stars was real? Did I not think you could do it? Maybe it was both and maybe it was neither. All I know is that you were upset, but never deterred.
Thinking back it may have been me who was unprepared.
"91,597円"
Late in the evening, every day, when I would settle into my studies, when I would open the old, mouldy, stale-with-rainwater, reeking-slightly-of-petrichor ledger, I would see that number, gently have the ledger closed and return downstairs to the storefront, where I would light the lantern, and, with a book in one hand and teacup in the other, wait for you to return.
And return you would, invariably, through the rain, the winds, the stubborn fairy, with a rock, a box, a cane, or any such thing that you once "borrowed" from my store, in hand. You would place it on the counter, curtly, and return to your favourite spot by the window.
And I would say:
"Thank you."
To which you will respond only with a nonchalant nod.
But I would continue:
"You know, your tab won't be cleared any time soon if you keep returning them at this leisurely rate."
And only then shall you say:
"I know. But I'll get out of your hair once I manage to pay it all off. Deal?"
"Deal."
And you'll grimace at me, half-jokingly, as if to say "How cold!", before returning to attend to the Stars, with melancholy, again. With determination, again.
And I, seeing that, would reach for the other teacup already prepared and make my way to the window, too. Without so much as a glance, you'd snatch it from my hand, fumble from the heat, help yourself to a sip or two, and then shoo me away, back to the counter. And though intolerant of discourtesy, still I would comply. As you reflect in silence, so too would I read.
And nothing would be amiss at all, for the Stars were aligning. They had been for some time now.
The gates to the World of Stars shall open soon.
By morning, I would wake up on the hard, but nonetheless comforting surface of the counter, and see you have already gone out for the day. I would brew myself some tea, get the morning news from the newspaper lady, but I would not read it, for I needed something to clean with in case of a spill. And then, I would open the shop.
The shop gets a bit more crowded in the spring months, what with the children coming by to play and the fairer ladies asking to get their parasols fixed in time for the sightseeing season. Sometimes, in an attempt to make small talk, they would, perhaps not out of any malice or ill-will, but would nonetheless come off as positively irritating, ask me why I would constantly hole myself up in the shop when the sights outside are so fulfillingly beautiful this time of the year.
But then I would remember when we were younger, every year, you and Reimu would come by and incessantly try to drag me outside to go see the flowers. And it is not as though I regret turning down the invitation every time as much as I realise that if I could deal with you and your difficult insouciance then, I could deal with some trivial small talk now.
I realise that nothing's really changed since that time. But something feels off, despite my judgement. The feeling that a big change is soon to come.
Nevertheless, more often than not, I would read the day away until noon would come and I would close up shop. I would dress up and make my way to the village. I would shop for some ingredients for that day's meal, and then I would return home as soon as possible.
Once home, I would prepare everything. After I lay the table, I would wait until sundown to see if you would return before the food gets cold. Sometimes you do, most times you do not.
When you do find the time, though, I always felt as if the Stars had given you just another day, as if everything had fallen back into the habitual regularity whose days I never truly understood were numbered.
But I knew, bestowed even Eternity, like a comet in the sky, you would charge headlong into their world.
"71,754円"
Late in the evening, every day, when I would settle into my studies, when I would open the old, mouldy, stale-with-rainwater, reeking-slightly-of-petrichor ledger, I would see that number, gently have the ledger closed and return downstairs to the storefront, where I would light the lantern, and, with a book in one hand and a teacup in the other, wait for you to return.
Today, I thought that had happened abnormally early.
"Ring! Ring!"
"Marisa! Welcome back. You're… early…"
"Hmm? Did I come at the wrong time? Maybe I should have waited just a bit longer?"
The woman sneered, as if she knew exactly what I would say, how I would respond, down to every facial expression and hand gesture and quiver of the voice.
She wants something from me.
"We're closed, Yukari. What do you want?"
"How cold! I thought after the incident that time with the barrier we must be so well-acquainted by now?"
"For a human, that would have been a long time ago. Marisa wasn't exactly the most aware back then. Maybe even now."
"You would say that, wouldn't you?" sighed Yukari, "I was hoping to play around just a bit more, but you caught on too quickly, so let us dawdle not. It's about that girl."
"What about her?"
"She owes you quite a lot, doesn't she?"
"So does Reimu.."
She glared at me.
"I have no reason to drag the slacking shrine maiden into this if it weren't of any concern to you. Same goes for the little witch, but here I am."
"Right… But why do you ask?"
"Simple, really. Here," said Yukari, as she handed me a set of visors, its appearance almost identical to my own spectacles, "This is a device from the Outside World. It can tell the time, it can let you see in the dark and from as far as one thousand li away, but in its native land, its most popular function is, vainly, predictably, bookkeeping."
"So… like a ledger?"
"That's quite insulting to your countrymen, isn't it now? They didn't go out of their way to engineer such a potent tool just to have you so primitively call it a ledger."
"Make me feel stupid if it makes you happy, but you're not gonna swindle me into whatever scheme you have with that flimsy excuse."
"You're asking me to explain how this works? Coming here for a vacation doesn't mean you have to throw away all knowledge from beyond the barrier, you know?"
"That's what the years do to you, I suppose. I haven't caught up with Outside World science in a while, is all."
Yukari scoffed, perhaps in amusement, maybe frustration, but she continued, "Sure, the elegant application of the complete theory of mind notwithstanding, let's consider it a ledger. But what puts it far beyond that is its ability to gather data on someone's brain activity, which you can understand roughly as emotional states, moods, attitudes and conscious thoughts and the likes, to compute a probability—"
"Yes, I know what a computer is."
Yukari gave me a stare that screamed "You think you're soooooo clever, huh?"
"Then you should know they are capable of an impressive range of actions. Pray tell, merchant, how do you suppose this functions as a ledger?"
"...I haven't a clue."
…This one's on me.
"It is so obvious as to come close to being common sense, but the merchant would need me to tell him that, wouldn't he?"
"Are you enjoying this?"
"Just a bit," she smirked mischievously, "Essentially, what that means is that depending on what a person feels, consciously thinks or acts, one can predict, in real time, and with good precision, whether that person will pay back their debt, and therefore can deduct or add the amount they will or won't pay from the sum total, all before they hand in a single coin."
"And you've got this set on Marisa?"
"Who else? If anything you're lucky I haven't had it set on you."
"And you want me to take it?"
"Obviously. More useful than your dusty ledger, right?"
"But what do you get out of this?"
"Just the knowledge that I helped out the merchant of poverty out of my own goodwill. So how about it? Deal?"
"I'm not sure I'm a fan of your idea of charity…"
I put my fingers on my temples, squinting my eyes.
I have no idea what she wants from me… but I am a fair bit curious about whatever she's offering. I wouldn't need them all the time if I prefer the old pen and paper.
"...But well, sure. Not that some convenience could kill me."
But I knew soon that I should not have given her the benefit of the doubt, because as soon as I acquiesced, Yukari, with a flick of her fingers, forcefully pulled my old pair of glassy specs to her hands and in their place planted the visors.
"70,000円"
That number flashed in front of my eyes so suddenly it startled me.
"Return that to me, Yukari. This was not part of the deal."
"Oh, relax," Yukari retorts as she turns her back to me, "You lost this cracked old thing and in return got a sweet little souvenir from home. I consider it a fair trade, if not a good deal."
"What are you gonna do with that cracked old thing anyway?"
"You don't suppose I can just take an invention that modern and not give anything back? At the very least I have to return something as a decoy to the poor rube I borrowed it from before he gets suspicious."
…There must be something else she wants from me. I'd recognise that huffy attitude anywhere.
"Wait."
"A no's a no! I'm not returning it just because Marisa gave it to you as a gift!"
"Not that. I just wanted to ask… Do you know anything about the World of Stars?"
"...!"
At last, I struck a chord.
"What's wrong?"
"Ahem. How… peculiar, indeed. Why exactly do you ask? All I know is that it's only accessible to those privy to the magicks. I didn't know you were into witchcraft?"
"No, not that I have the time. But, isn't there that festival that takes place every five hundred years, to celebrate the aligning of the Stars or some such, if I recall? I was wondering if you or the village folk had any plans for that."
"Oh? I didn't know an indoors type such as yourself knew what a festival was, much less cared. If you're asking me to come with, well, I'm flattered, but I had already made plans for that day. Maybe some other time."
I nodded dismissively.
"Say, do you think it's true? That the Stars will really 'align' every half a millennia to open a door to some magical wonderland?"
"Hmm?", Yukari raised her eyebrow curiously, "I have no reason to doubt. I've seen it with my own two eyes and then some."
I had half a mind to say "You really are that old", but the other half stopped me before I could put myself in needless danger again. And as I was busy grappling with my self-control, Yukari called out:
"But, merchant…"
"Hmm?"
"I still don't really believe it was an upcoming festival that got you to care about the twinkling lights up there."
"Is that what you think? Isn't the prospect of a once-in-five-lifetimes occasion exciting?"
"Not for you. Especially not a festival. But this one specifically seems to have wandered into your crosshairs. From where did you first learn about it?"
"...Sometimes… Marisa would leave her Astronomy books here, and I just happened to catch a glance."
And she, if one could believe it, thought for a while. She thought! This is the same person who's so deathly afraid of not having a plan as to refuse to drop her mystery woman act in front of her most trusted student.
When she does stop to think, she's hesitant to follow through with the plan.
But it seems she has decided to indeed follow through, indicated by a barely noticeable, but evidently tired sigh.
"I'd say that's a breach of privacy but… ah, well, I can't blame you. Fascinating place, it is. Though, once you go, you can't return."
"Is that so?"
"That is so. You said you've seen it in Marisa's books, yes? You don't suppose…?"
"..."
"I'll tell you this much: When I was young and unwise, I was tempted by its sparkle and even contemplated going there myself, before a friend I cared very dearly for told me to stay. If she hadn't been there for me, who knows where I'd be now? Who knows where we'd be now?"
"...It must be a wonderful place if even the pragmatic Yukari was charmed by its glamorous beauty."
Yukari turned back to face me.
"It very much is. But someone was there for me, someone who cared deeply for me, someone who was my anchor. I'm sure you know this already, merchant, but the passage to the World of Stars will open just a few days from now. I wonder if you can be that someone, when that time comes? "
"If that time comes. And no, I wouldn't be so sure at all. After all, it will not be my choice to make."
"I see," murmured Yukari. A dark contour juts out from just outside the window.
"Well, it has certainly been fun chatting with you. You've got what you want, I've got what I need. I'd love to stay for a bit longer, but I have some preoccupations at the moment. Pleasure doing business with you, merchant."
"Same to you. Goodbye, Yukari."
It was barely a moment after I said it that, with a swift motion of her fingers, Yukari vanished without a trace. Barely into spring and yet here she is, poking her nose into my business.
I think I've got an inkling as to what she wants from me, but I can't quite pin down why these visors would help.
In any case, I didn't have time to question it, because very soon after, another "customer" would arrive.
"Ring! Ring!"
"Hello, Marisa."
"Here."
"The old PC?"
"I don't need it anymore."
"I see… Well, thank you."
"...No problem."
"50,000円"
Before my eyes, the numbers flashed and counted down again. I don't know when I'll be able to get used to that.
What exactly are you planning?
"60,000円"
"70,000円"
"80,000円"
Late in the afternoon, just before sunset, every day, when I had laid the table, I would activate my visors, see that number steadily climbing up, and puzzle over it for a long, long while as I waited for sundown.
Today, I thought I didn't have to wait until sundown.
"Ring! Ring!"
"Marisa! Hello! Here for supper today?"
"No, I just—"
"Forgot something?"
"No, no, not that either. I just… I know you've prepared the meal, but can you just…"
A pause.
You took a deep breath.
"...Can you make an exception today, and go with me to the river?"
"What for?"
"I want to go practice flying again."
And it would take a few moments of deliberation, but in the end, I would tell you to lead the way.
And time would turn a few years back, just for that evening.
"90,000円"
"100,000円"
"Hey! Marisa! It's getting late! Aren't you tired?"
"Killjoy! Afraid the food's gonna go cold? You can go home now if you want! I know my way around!"
"Ahh, nevermind. You really haven't grown up one bit, Marisa."
And in a very you-fashion of feeling guilty over an innocuous joke, you would make a seriously concerned expression and fly down to apologise.
"...Sorry. We can go back now, if you want."
"Oh, it's alright. I wouldn't have come here with you if I didn't have some way to reheat."
And I thought I had pulled it off so well too, but then I opened my self-satisfied eyes and saw you smiling ear to ear, barely able to contain yourself.
"It is a wonder how the trick works every time."
"How many times has it been now?"
"How would I know?"
"5 or so? Not double digits yet."
"You're that proud for being so gullible…"
"Rather that than paranoid all the time. Anyways, still want to stay a bit longer?"
"Let's. Tonight's a clear sky, so the Stars are gonna be visible all the way from here."
"150,000円"
It took some time, and some close calls with the barrier again, but there you were, and there I was, by some miracle, somehow just lazily watching the Stars.
"This is impossible. I can't see it."
"You're just bad. Look at the book, that's the same Constellation!"
"Well, I don't know what to tell you, but I'm not you. The sky harbours a million Stars and you forced me to pick out a dozen. Not my fault luck isn't on my side."
"Geez, sorry. I still think you're being too cranky though."
"I'm being reasonable."
"No, you are too cranky. You lose your temper too easily, y'know?"
"..."
"I'm not forcing you to pick out anything. You know you can just ignore me and look at whatever you'd like."
"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of Stargazing. What's the point of study if inexperience would suffice?"
"That's the beauty of Stargazing. It doesn't matter who you are or what you do, if you're just willing to give it some time, you can see a Constellation no one ever has. Isn't that feeling special?"
"Like mere sketching then."
"Exactly. Maybe that's why I like Stargazing so much."
I couldn't retort, so we would just continue to watch the Stars float by.
"170,000円"
A redolent hint of slightly singed grass wafts through the air, and then all fell silent. All but the howling winds. All but the wayward cloud. All but the quiet rushing of the river, the rustle of the leaves.
All but the great primordial sky. It shifted and stretched as though possessing a life of its own, a mind of its own, always in flux. Streaks of light darted past the inky black veil. The Stars dot the skies like pearls adrift in the great galactic ocean. Innumerable, indistinct, yet together they bring light to the black comfort of the darkest sea. They tugged and pulled on one another, forming delicate cosmic chains.
Every 500 years, those chains would click into place, their links interlocked for just a single brief summer night.
And then, once they would snap…!
"180,000円"
"…ey."
I heard what seemed to be a quiet whisper. I ignored it.
"..."
"Hey!", the whisper got louder this time. I figured I should stop ignoring things, lest misfortune be upon me.
"I'm listening."
"You don't notice anything unusual?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"It's been a good couple of years since we went here together, right? Why do you think I suddenly dragged you out here again?"
"Nostalgia?"
"You're not wrong, but…", you frowned, a frown visible even through the darkness "I guess I shouldn't beat around the bush anymore."
Springing up suddenly from the grass, wearing the same solemn expression that has become so familiar, you would drop all pretensions of a carefree evening out.
"190,000円"
"I'm… going to the World of Stars."
"..."
"Well, you see, I—"
"When are you going?'
"200,000円"
"Tomorrow," you said with your head hung low, "Look, I'm sorry for not telling you earlier. But I've been really busy and—"
"Have you told Reimu yet? …Your father?"
"210,000円"
"...I haven't."
"You should go tell them, then. If not tonight then tomorrow. It's never too late to say goodbye, no?"
"Yeah. I'll do it tomorrow."
"220,000円"
"Have you made all the preparations?"
"I have."
"That's good. I've heard it's a long way from here to the World of Stars."
"230,000円"
"What kind of Star will you choose to be, once you're there?"
"Why are you asking that?"
"Who knows? What if I can spot you in a Constellation somewhere?"
Marisa chuckled at my words.
"Not that you'll be able to. I'm gonna be a Blazing Star—sorry—you know it as a comet."
"Why a comet?"
"I don't know, really. I just… I just think it suits me."
"I suppose it does."
"240,000円"
"But, but…! Even you're being weird about this!"
"Even me?"
"I mean, okay, look at it this way, right? I still owe you a bunch of stuff. I want to go, but if I do that before I pay it all back, won't I be breaking the deal? That's a reason for you to stop me. But you seem so… indifferent! Everyone else was the same! Is the World of Stars just not that big a deal?!"
"You haven't told Reimu. Or your father."
Your eyes soften, as does your voice:
"That's true, but… I kind of don't want them to let them know, either… They would beg me to stay. I don't know what I'll do if that happens."
"Are you so sure that will happen?"
"Of course I am!", you shouted suddenly, but with a heavy sigh, you added "But I guess you're right as well.… I just… I know I want to go, I know it's too late for me to turn back, but I guess I just want to feel like there's still people who care about me down here, I guess? I really don't know at this point…"
"I can somewhat understand. I don't think it would be fair if you kept this from them, though."
"...I guess so."
"250,000円"
"You think I could cancel the trip now and not, you know, feel bad about it?"
"How long have you wanted to reach for the Stars now?"
"Five years or so? Well… no, my whole life. I'm sure I've wanted for nothing more."
"Then that's an entire lifetime's worth of reason to go, no?"
"But… Damn it, I hate to admit it, but…! My father, my friends here, Reimu, isn't that also reason enough to stay?"
"Right."
"See? There's no right decision here!"
"I don't think there's a wrong one either. Whatever you choose, life goes on for all of us. Rather, what do you think is more important to you?"
"..."
"If leaving us all behind is what you're afraid of, don't be. You're the Star of the show, the brightest in all of Gensokyo. We're rooting for you.
"..."
"Go for it, Marisa."
An impossibly long moment. My gaze was transfixed upon the Stars, but I heard the grass softly crumpling underneath a soft weight, and a heavy sigh after that.
"249,000円"
"240,000円"
"230,000円"
The number ticked down again. My suspicions were correct.
So that's what it was for.
I knew I should have expected more from that trickster woman.
"..."
"So, tomorrow, is it? Need me to help with anything?"
"...No. I'll manage. All that's left is… saying goodbye to everyone. Then it's off to the World of Stars I go."
"Good luck, then."
"...Thanks."
"150,000円"
Early in the morning, when I would get out of bed for the first time in a long time, I would put on my visors, see that number going down again, smile to myself, before I would prepare for the day. I would brew myself some tea, get the morning news from the newspaper lady, and I would read it, for today was the special edition all about the Festival of Stars. And then, I would open the shop.
"140,000円"
It's midsummer, but I can notice a distinct lack of the children or their guardians coming for small talk. It's only natural, I suppose. They're all home preparing for the evening. Today's incident involves a startling lack of sun or any sort of weather that would call for those frilly parasols. Not that I mind some silence, of course.
…Although, that fireworks show you're holding outside the shrine looks mightily conspicuous. Might attract the nosy ones, fighting so early in the day.
It seems she didn't take the news very well. Poor girl.
But, well, what do I know? For the two of you, that might just be the most sincere farewell you two could muster. If it ain't magic, it ain't flashy, isn't that right?
"130,000円"
As I read the day away, noon came before I could realise and I would close up shop. I would dress myself up and head to the river near the barrier, where items from the Outside World would occasionally drift in, ripe for the taking.
But sometimes, like this time, when nothing had drifted ashore, and still having gone through the effort to come this far, I would sit down on the riverbank and think about what I'd read that morning.
Today's was a very dry piece of didacticism about perspective in the mathematical sense. But dry and unstimulating as it was, therein lies a strangely captivating treatise on obliqueness—how a slanted perspective alters and at times entirely hides properties of geometries from our perception—not because it was cognitively enlightening nor philosophically meaningful, but because of the simple fact that, somehow, it reminded me of you.
I can't quite remember how I came to this conclusion. If I told you this you'd laugh in my face. Because you are certainly not an "oblique" person, by any conventional definition. For the most part, you're very direct about whatever's on your mind, you can barely stomach a lie, and on the rare occasion you are not, you're still very easy to parse. That is, the part I think I can parse.
But as I thought more and more about it, only am I ever reminded by the certitude of its assessment. So to excuse the failure of my linguistic faculties, allow me to borrow this arcane analogy. It makes what I'm about to say easier to say, anyhow.
Suppose, this river, for instance. In any other circumstance it would have been a normal river. But it is not. It is not a river straight along a small mountain path, nor is it a river down the winding, vortical currents of a steep fall. Rather, it is the river separating us from the Outside World. The river cuts through the barrier. And because of that, when I stand on one side of the river, I cannot see the other. In a sense, the Border slants my perspective of the river.
Could it be that, beyond this boundary, the river's width extends to an infinitude? Could it be that the river flows down branching paths of branching paths, and my eyes only inform me of one of those thousands of junctions? Or could it be that the river flows as any river has or will, in a straight line or at most a mundane spiral? I have been here by this river for so long, and think I know so much about it on this side, but as much as I'd like to, I cannot give any satisfactory answers as to what it is on the other, only ahh's and umm's of a fragile, haphazard guess. The barrier's obfuscation clouds my judgement. Even if I were to try and follow the river to its end, to see it for myself, long before that it would have resided far beyond the bounds of the Border, far beyond my reach. I could never know for certain.
If you were to come up and ask me what I think of the river then…
Well…
I'd say it was oblique. And to you this word would apply just the same.
"100,000円"
I stayed there by the river for a decent while, enough to see the sun dip below the patchy grass hill. I didn't prepare dinner today, but just today alone, that probably wouldn't be necessary. The food won't go cold this way, at least.
I waited and waited to see the Stars, but even well into the evening, the sky seemed as silent as any other day.
How odd. Yesterday, the night sky looked so vibrant, as though the bubble that separated us from the World of Stars was just about to burst, and the Stars would spill to our world like a fine, brilliant glitter.
With a sigh, I put the book I brought with me away and started to head back.
"90,000円"
Strange thoughts run through my mind. Suddenly I remember an observation I have not thought about in a long time.
In the absence of a sensation, the mind sharpens the others to compensate. This may be understood as a small sector of the natural law of equivalent exchange. Or so I've read.
As to its veracity, I can only speculate.
In the black opaqueness of the night, still the way back seems so obvious as to seem like common sense. From ridges in the soft soil to the direction of the wind, to squawkings of the sparrow, to the scents of the earth…
…And thus so too does that observation become fact, and that fact become common sense. There seems to be little reason for doubt.
When one loses their sense of sight they consult with sound.
When one loses their sense of "earthliness" they consult with the Stars.
"80,000円"
The lanterns from the distant village glow softly, to celebrate the Stars. They shine so punily, compared to the night sky we saw yesterday. I must imagine, though, in the loudness and disorder of festivities, the world around must seem brighter than the brightest of days.
But I must imagine further still, despite whatever feelings of closeness and community the village folk currently share, an imposing wooden edifice of a childhood home standing in the village's centre, its lanterns extinguished and its gates shut tight. I must imagine, if you press your ears on the door and listen close, even amidst the festival's tumult, you can hear quiet sobs from within, for the man who resides within, though long estranged with his daughter, must nevertheless mourn a great loss tonight. But who can blame him? And who can blame you?
Nevertheless, at this distance, I begin to understand just a little why you so desperately wanted to escape such a placid existence. Why settle for lanterns when you could be a Star?
"70,000円"
It is rather pleasant, the cool air of the night. Nothing like the miserable summer sun, nowhere the frostbite of a frigid dawn in the winter months.
A few more specks are visible now, but just a few, nowhere near as bright as yesterday's. I wonder why?
Are they waiting for their friends?
"60,000円"
"50,000円"
I passed by Reimu on the way back. I greeted her politely, but she didn't reply. She seemed to be in a hurry.
"40,000円"
"30,000円"
"20,000円"
The night sky is as dark as it is silent.
"10,000円"
"5,000円"
"1,000円"
The store is just a few steps away. Even though it's the same store I've seen a thousand times before, the experience of coming up to the entrance at night, in the summer breeze, under the empty sky, was more novel than most. Must have been the weather. Or the occasion.
I brushed off my silly thoughts with a dry laugh, and opened the door.
"0円"
"Ring! Ring!"
Everything in the shop remained as it was left. Not a book opened, a box moved, nor a document shuffled. But there was something else.
I approached the window.
A pouch sat still atop the windowsill. Tied hastily, but neatly nonetheless.
Light but dense, and even from the outside I was able to catch a gleam from within.
I undid the knots and almost spilt its contents over the floor—a fine, soft golden dust. Its glimmer is as brilliant as a crackling starry night sky. It was so light and floaty that at any moment I felt as though it would just suddenly take flight.
Buried within the powder was a small paper note. I didn't read it. I didn't want to.
A great silence.
Before…
"Crack! Crack! Pop!"
From the distance, the sound of firecrackers echoed.
Then, fireworks.
Then, the very, very faint sound of cheering.
It must be midnight now.
And out of the corner of my eye, from outside the window, a bright pulse of light shot up in the distant horizon.
So I turned my gaze skyward.
At last, the sky shone bright with brilliant Starlight.
And I saw the Stars populating the night sky, aligning, then aligned. They were a dazzling gold colour.
And I saw more pulses of light, in the colours of a rainbow, following the first, though I'm not so sure they were to reside in the domain beyond sky. I could only hope you got her message.
Finally, I saw a lone comet streaking past the static Stars.
A Blazing Star…
It flew past the village, past the river by the barrier, above the shrine, over your family home, where it disappeared from view.
And I knew then that before my eyes could be no other than the World of Stars.
And I knew then that you would be nowhere else other than up there.
And I knew then that I had done something right.
And I would gather the strength to read your final message to me.
And I smiled.
And everything was alright, thusly.
"As if I'd forget!
Here's some Stardust, as something to remember me by
Should be enough to cover my tab
Thank you, and goodbye!"
A/N:
Hi there! Thanks for reading! Hopefully this was up to par for a first real try at a written fanwork for Touhou. This work is primarily influenced by a doujin named 星巡りの夜 (Starry Night), by artist SoN, which has a very very (okay basically identical) setup. Being a "derivative" of a "derivative" does make me feel kind of iffy about the fic, but in a way, isn't that one of the most Touhou thing possible? Keeping the doujin roots alive, one "stolen" idea at a time.
This is a version of a story I wrote two years ago that was and is still very personal to me, edited to be published here (and to somewhat fix some odd dialogue). As per the summary, at its core this is a story about how to say goodbye to someone dear to you going somewhere far away. Whether this is something you might or might not need at the moment, I hope it resonated with you reading it as it resonated with me writing it.