After the festival I regaled my two roommates with stories of Hot Springs Town, the enslaved vengeful spirits, and the cannibalistic oni. I warned them that the oni had a mysterious problem that could only be solved by turning humans into oni themselves, for some reason.

“No, there may be other solutions,” said Wiki. “They are just not as expedient to the oni, whom we cannot trust to plan wisely at all.”

“Why not?” asked Arnold.

“They’re bad at planning. For example, at one or two per week, they’ve only got twenty years of minions left to eat.”

“Two thousand was an estimate,” I said. “And who knows how many there were before. They were in the middle of a depopulated city, if you recall.”

“Are they all as hot as Yuugi?” asked Arnold, a paragon of focus and determination. I told him he wouldn’t survive an intimate relationship with any of the demons down there. “Cause they’ll eat me?”

“They’ll pulverize you first,” I said. “Accidentally. Their bodies are hard like iron.”

“Damn,” he said. “I’m jealous.”

“Only copulate with weak youkai,” said Wiki as he wrote it down. Arnold waggled his eyebrows at me. I ignored his insinuation that I knew any weak youkai that I wanted to copulate with.

“Sanae hinted that bodily fluids cause issues,” I told him. “Yuugi did tell me that oral was safe. Kind of? She implied it.”

“Safe for who?” asked Arnold.

“They have teeth,” Wiki reminded us.

“Either way it’s against policy,” I said. “They seemed to struggle to adhere to their own rules, except for cannibalism, which they are all enthusiastic about.”

“Maybe that’s why they are underground,” said Wiki. “I’m noticing a pattern. The further from Human Town a youkai lives, the less likely they are to adhere to the rules of Gensokyo.”

“That’s bad news, considering I have to climb Youkai Mountain tomorrow to get cleansed,” I said. The Moriya shrine was near the top, but the path to it was past the Garden of the Sun. Kazami Yuuka lived there and she was probably out for my blood.

“You can fly,” said Wiki. “Hopefully that will help.”

“Maybe with the ascent,” I said. “Do you expect things to get worse as we go deeper into Hell?”

“Not necessarily,” he said. “I’m trying to be an optimist.”

“Why now?” I asked. “Anyway, let me tell you about the Palace of Earth spirits now. Oh, I met Yakumo Chen, by the way.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked. “Was she caring for Satori’s pets?”

“Another successful prediction,” I said, shaking my head. The cat youkai in red had been surprisingly friendly as she directed Sasha and I around the palace. She’d also had a wistful look in her eye. The bakeneko was continuing to do the bidding of a false master, because her real master had ordered her to serve someone else just before disappearing.

It reminded me a little bit of Maroon. Everyone was praying that Yakumo Yukari would come back before we starved to death, but Chen just missed her master. She was lonely.

I wondered if something similar had driven the fairy from the forest and into a mansion full of devils. Arnold snapped his fingers in front of my face.

“Sorry,” I said. “Anyway, I’ve got tons of notes here…” I looked down at my notebook and blinked.

It was blank. I flipped through the pages, and toward the front, until I found text again. The last several weeks of notes had been erased. I reread my first thoughts about the wings I’d earned.

“This is bizarre,” I said. Wiki and Arnold came over to look. “It’s gone! Like my notebook had a memory error!”

“What’s the last thing that you have?” asked Wiki.

I flipped forward. At some point the text changed from my awful chicken scratch to thin, neat lines. The last several pages were filled with hundreds of repetitions of the same tiny word.

correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct correct corr

“What the fuck does this mean?” I asked.

“I feel like I should know,” said Wiki, staring at the text. “You didn’t write this, though. There’s no chance you wrote so cleanly and small.”

“Ha ha,” I said.

“How many pages of ‘correct’ are there?”

“Seven or eight,” I said, flipping back. I found another section written in the same thin, elegant lines, but it wasn’t one word repeated over and over. It was a few short paragraphs.

The air is deadly. Hold your breath as long as you can, starting now. You do not have much time. There are three critical things you must accomplish. The first is that no matter what happens, you must activ—

The text faded before I finished reading. I held my breath, because obviously if a magical artifact warns you to do something, you do it immediately.

My own notes faded back in. I read something about the Palace of the Earth Spirits in my own handwriting, then flipped back and forth to look for the more mysterious script. There was none. Either my roommates had missed the warning or chosen to ignore it. I dithered. I couldn’t tell them what to do without breathing!

“That’s concerning,” said Arnold. “I think?”

“Very unsettling,” said Wiki. “We should study this. Has it happened before?”

I stared at them for several seconds, then gasped. My roommates were still breathing, so if they were going to die, at least we’d all die together.

“No,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like that.” Breathing didn’t seem to result in my immediate demise.

“If it happens again, take some notes,” he suggested.

“Where, smartass?” I asked him. “My notebook is unreliable!”

“Shoot. I think you’d better start carrying two.”

–

I went to the Scarlet Devil Mansion with Sasha the next day, to watch Arnold’s first expedition and to ask the Great Librarian for help. Patchouli and Nazrin were waiting for us. The small table had a seat on each side, and a koakuma was standing out of the way but ready to assist.

We sat down at the table and watched as Arnold walked through the forest, wrecking fairies with his ax. None of them were actually injured, but his danmaku was still frightening to them. I sniffed my smelling canister to overwhelm even imagined fear scents. It did smell nice.

“Mister Thorne,” said Patchouli. “I’m so glad to see you. There’s something I’d like to discuss.”

“What a coincidence,” I said. I had planned to ask her about the notebook. “Me too. Why don’t you go first?”

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“Come with me,” she said, leading me away from the table. Sasha stood to follow but Patchouli stopped her with a gesture. “A private conversation, if you’d please.”

Arnold’s image gave a thumbs up, and like everyone else, I pretended not to notice. I’d forgotten he could hear us, and he’d forgotten that we could all see him.

“What’s up?” I asked as soon as we were in the hallway.

“Demon!” said Patchouli. A koakuma stepped out of the door we had just used. “No, a different one.” The demon returned to the library, then another koakuma came out of a different door. “Much better. Stay here, in case I need you.”

Patchouli turned to face me, a neutral look on her face. She seemed to consider her words.

“I heard you were consorting with a monster in the village.” I appreciated the directness, at least intellectually. Emotionally I wanted to run and hide. That both Patchouil and Sanae had the sense to talk to me about in private made me happy, I supposed.

“Uh, where’d you hear that?” I asked.

“Miss Kirisame told me,” she said. “She caught you in a compromised position?”

“Something like that,” I said, pulling on my collar. “Not very compromised.” I remembered Sekibanki’s distorted face and shuddered.

“I know things can be difficult in the human village.” There was an awkward silence.

“It’s not so bad. I mean, youkai aren’t always throwing themselves at me.” I couldn’t imagine how she’d get any other impression, but I’d heard the jokes my friends were making. I realized I’d forgotten to tell Sanae about Reisen’s attempt to seduce me in a nightmare. Perhaps it was better that I hadn’t.

“I meant that you have needs, and it’s probably difficult to get them met in a population that is ninety-three percent male,” she said. She looked at her feet.

Patchouli was almost always reading a book. I could count on one hand the number of times she’d looked straight into my eyes. It meant absolutely nothing that she was averting her gaze, just then.

But I kind of wanted it to mean something. She wasn’t looking at a book, either.

“I didn’t expect you to empathize with such a problem,” I said. I was pretending to look at the wall as I watched her out of the corner of my eye.

“I do, believe it or not,” she said. “Born witches are among the most humanlike youkai. The differences between us and formed witches, like Miss Kirisame, are subtle.”

The differences weren’t subtle to me. Patchouli was refined, feminine, and intellectual. Marisa was a lout with a lot of possessions and a penchant for getting between me and the youkai I had a crush on.

“I daresay that I feel every human emotion, even empathy,” Patchouli continued. “That’s why I thought I would try to help you. If you are so… lonely, that you seek the company of monsters, then that is an unsafe burden for one of Gensokyo’s protectors to bear.” She sighed. “I wish you weren’t so foolish as to think of sexual relations with youkai as an acceptable solution, but I suppose it can’t be helped.”

My heart was pounding. I’d wanted a conversation like this. Some part of my mind didn’t believe what was happening. In fact, I was so certain I couldn’t believe it, that I noticed I was confused. I decided to ask for clarity.

“Help me how?” I asked, hoping for… something.

“I have bound this lustful demon extraordinarily–”

“Absolutely not,” I said, before my mind registered that she was pointing at the koakuma. “Thank you, but no.”

“Why not?” asked Patchouli with genuine confusion. The disappointment I felt was so immense that I almost buckled under its weight.

“Because it’s a fucking demon,” I said. The koakuma looked hurt. “Sorry, she’s a demon! Just like the one that killed Maroon!”

“One,” said Patchouli, “We are still trying to manifest her again, so Maroon is not ‘dead.’ And two, that’s racist.”

“Preferences aren’t racist,” I said.

“I meant that judging all demons for a single demon’s actions is prejudiced,” she said. “Wise for a diabolist, perhaps, but this demon definitely isn’t the one that harmed Maroon.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “I promise I’ll try to be respectful to the differences between evil demons, but I’m not sleeping with one!”

She began to pace. “I know I forbade that sort of interaction with the demons, but that rule is negotiable. I anticipated indiscretions that haven’t materialized, so far. Perhaps you’ve taken my lessons about their danger too well?”

“If I have sex with a demon,” I said, barely believing I was having this conversation, “Won’t their bodily fluids turn me into a monster or something?”

Patchouli reached into her extra-dimensional space and pulled out a box of condoms. She waved them in the air without turning around.

“Okay fine,” I said. “Assuming I don’t kiss them. But the answer is still hell no.”

“You pursued a youkai at night,” she said. “I don’t understand. Is the pragmatic solution simply not exciting enough? Not dangerous enough?”

“You seem to have a misapprehension about what happened in the village,” I said, my voice hard and cold. “I didn’t pursue S–the monster. The monster made a move on me, and moments later, Marisa rescued me. This wasn’t some foolish mistake I made because I’m an idiotic horndog.”

Was that a lie? I’d been happy to be kissed, until we were interrupted and Sekibanki went monster mode. Happy for all of five seconds. I was making it sound like I was blameless, which was definitely false… right?

I didn’t have the will to contemplate it further. Patchouli stared at me for several seconds. Our eyes briefly met. There was a spicy, earthy smell in the air.

“Did I just suggest casual sex as a solution to someone who was sexually assaulted?” asked the purple witch.

“N–no,” I said. “I think I was assaulted the good-old-fashioned way. The way that youkai seem to prefer.” An attempt to scare me and nothing more, I thought.

“I am deeply sorry, Jake,” she said. The smell was growing worse. “I’m just trying to help. I should have gotten more information–but the socially-taboo nature of the discussion made me want to barrel ahead. It was my mistake.” She was speaking fast. I was smelling her fear. What could she possibly be afraid of?

“Are you worried… you hurt my feelings?” I asked. I pulled out my smelling vial and sniffed it. The lavender really did calm me down. If Patchouli thought that me huffing a vial was strange, she didn’t say anything.

“Yes,” she said. The scent of her fear receded, but her brow was still knitted. “Did I?”

“... yes,” I said, honestly. “It’s okay, though. I know you’re just trying to help.”

“Thank you for your forgiveness. From now on, I’ll refrain from suggesting sexual relations with monsters, even ones as well-controlled as the koakuma.”

“Thanks,” I said unhappily.

She nodded, a deep frown on her face. I felt bad for her, which was kind of ridiculous when I thought about it. I felt bad for myself, too. For a moment it seemed like she was going to ask another question, but the moment passed and I decided to change the subject.

“There is something you can help me with.” I explained the strange occurrence with my notebook. As I went on, she nodded with increasing impatience. She hadn’t been reading for almost five minutes–it was probably taxing on her. At some point she opened the door and led me back into the darkened library.

“The text disappeared as quickly as it came,” I said as we sat down.

“Can I look at it?” she asked. I gave her my notebook. She drew some sigils in the open air around it. “This notebook is part of your identity?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Hmm. This circumstance reminds me of the oujia.”

“What?” I asked. Patchouli returned my notebook and picked up an immense tome of her own.

“Ouija boards,” said Sasha. “You know, magical lens on a board that spells words from ghosts?”

“Oh, of course,” I said. I’d vaguely heard of the concept. It hadn’t been popular for several decades. “So a ghost was writing in my notebook?”

“I doubt it,” said Patchouli. “Ouija boards died out with the witches that made them.”

“Then why–”

“Typically, a practitioner would be buried with her lens, one that she had used for many years,” continued Patchouli. “The hope was that a spiritual lens and board would manifest in the afterlife so that she could use them to send messages back to the living.” She turned a page in her book. “They had techniques for making it more likely. The materials didn’t always remain in the possession of the spirit who had wrought them, however. It was a reliable way to communicate with demons for hundreds of years. It’s a shame the art was lost.”

“Ah, yeah,” I said. “I’m not dead, so that theory’s right out.”

“You have been to Hell, though,” said Arnold over the telepathic connection. I’d forgotten he could hear us. His voice rumbled from the walls when he spoke, a surround-sound sort of experience. I watched his image as he fluttered through the woods with his dainty fairy wings.

“That isn’t sufficient,” said Patchouli. “The magic only works if the soul has crossed over planes. The Old Capital is on this plane.” She went on to explain that even if I crossed the boundary to New Hell and left Gensokyo, it wouldn't manifest a spiritual copy of my notebook on its own. “Death is the only way to reliably cross two planes and simultaneously create a spiritual version of an object, to manifest it in two places.”

“You duplicate things all the time,” I said.

“I could not duplicate your notebook on its own,” she said. “Not while keeping it part of your identity.”

I thought about it long and hard. Patchouli idly repaired Sasha’s wing with magic while we watched the expedition. Arnold eventually entered the battle against Parsee. He lost, and left the cavern with Okina’s magic, disappearing into her secret realm.

“I’ve actually had two notebooks, if you recall,” I told Patchouli. “Remilia stole the first one and threw it in that portal after Sakuya and Miss Yakumo?”

Patchouli’s eyes were wide when she looked up at me. Despite everything that had happened, I found the purple irises entrancing. “I would very much like to borrow your notebook,” she said. “For further testing, of course.”

“Sure,” I said, giving the book to her. “But how long can you hold onto it before it’s no longer mine?” No longer part of my identity, I meant.

“I will return it tomorrow,” she said with a nod. “I won’t risk whatever accidental magic you seem to have achieved.”

“Whelp, that’s it for today,” said Nazrin as she stood and stretched. “Don’t you two have work to do? Human things, in Human Town? Can you really stay here all day?”

“You’d think she doesn’t like the company,” I said to Sasha.

“Would you?” Nazrin asked her. “That’d make you more considerate than him.”

“As a matter of fact,” I said with a cough, “We could be helping Wiki and Nitori construct power lines, right now. However, I was hoping for guidance up youkai mountain after the expedition.”

“Oh joy,” said the mouse youkai, her voice flat. “Extra work.”

“I suppose I should have checked to see if you could guide all three of us at once.”

Patchouli shook her head. “One crystal at a time,” she said. “Are you going there to get cleansed?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sasha’s going with me, in case we run into any youkai.”

Patchouli looked at me with pity, and sorrow, and a bit of shame. She must have inferred that my curse was the cost of my interaction with Sekibanki. That wasn’t true, but I appreciated her sympathy anyway. It was a miracle I’d explained my interaction with the youkai without incriminating myself, or even revealing her name to Patchouli.

I hoped Lady Knowledge wouldn’t spend any time thinking about it later.