I was alone with Patchouli in her bedroom, and we were discussing forbidden magic. It was a pretty great situation to be in. She was sitting close to me, talking softly. Despite the late hour, my mind was abuzz with possibilities.

Except that I kept getting distracted by the nature of time magic.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “What’s the difference between durée and subjective time?”

“Durée is forgotten,” said Patchouli. “Subjective time is retained.”

“Why is it forgotten, though?”

“Because the magic forces the user into an earlier state, before they had experienced any of those things.”

“Even though objective time still passes, and more than their subjective time.”

“That’s right,” she said. “Objective time, subjective time, and durée can all pass at different rates. That is why the world appears six dimensional. Haven’t you seen Donnie Darko?”

My head was spinning. “No, what’s that?”

“Oh. A movie. I won’t bother explaining, because comparing and contrasting two things you are unfamiliar with doesn’t help. What about Tenet? Primer? Groundhog Day?”

“How do you know so much about movies that can’t even be shown in Gensokyo?” I asked.

“I read the screenplay of anything that features time travel, just in case someone else had an insight that we’ve missed,” she said simply. “True time travel is impossible. Probably.”

“Okay. I’m still confused. Don’t durée and subjective time mean the same thing, at least until the reset?”

She shook her head. “They may appear the same to the resetting observer, but the fact of an imminent reset makes them fundamentally different. It can be detected.” She explained some things about how different types of time left different magical signatures, but most of it flew over my head. I asked for an example.

Patchouli went on to explain how Izayoi Sakuya used her powers.

Sakuya had two distinct but related abilities: the ability to stop time, and the ability to physically reset herself to the state she’d been in shortly after her initial time magic discovery. Every day she lived (up to) sixty years, then every night she reset herself to seconds after she’d given herself time manipulation abilities.

Sakuya experienced little subjective time, but a lot of durée. She also used a written diary to quickly remind herself of what was important, every day.

“Just like Lady Scarlet,” I said. “Whose idea was that?”

“Sakuya’s,” said Patchouli. “Remilia isn’t as prideful as most vampires, so she adopted the idea when she encountered it.”

“I can’t even imagine other vampires.”

“That’s fine, since they are most probably all dead,” said Patchouli. “We’re getting off topic.”

She went on to explain that Sakuya’s diary wasn’t something she took with her everywhere, which was why she’d needed my notebook. After we got past me goggling at the fact that Sakuya died every single day for her magic, Patchouli spent a few minutes shooting down my attempts to munchkin it.

“So if you had a large empty gymnasium full of air tanks, with a high-pressure water delivery system, heat ballast, and speed-optimized computing infrastructure and high-refresh rate monitors…”

“You don’t see with light during accelerated time,” said Patchouli. “The monitors will appear blank.”

“Goddamnit,” I said. “What do you see with, then?” Patchouli gave me a few possibilities, none of which were particularly convenient for computer monitors.

Sakuya mostly used her magic to move from place to place, or to pick things up. Even doors slowed her down considerably. The problem with being hyper fast in a slow world, was that most interesting things that one wanted to do involved the world somehow.

“With all due respect, Mister Thorne, we have gotten into the weeds. I think I’ve described enough about time magic to sate your curiosity.” She yawned. “Do you have any more pertinent questions?”

“Is there really nothing I can do?” I said. “The quest to save Yukari and Sakuya is the most important thing going on right now, by far.”

“You can best help by continuing with the mission that Lady Matara and Lady Yakumo left for you,” said Patchouli. “Continue using your notebook. For your notebook to keep having its regeneration properties, you must keep it a part of your identity. Regular danmaku battles and note taking will help with that, I suspect.”

“I’ve noticed that it has more than three hundred pages, now,” I said. “And it’s getting even thicker. I assume that’s expected?”

The librarian shrugged.

“Okay. What happens if I die?” She considered it for a few moments.

“Then we won’t have as much time to find Miss Izayoi as we’d like,” she said. “Because her notebook will melt in the miasma in a matter of hours.”

“I see,” I said. “Don’t die, then.”

“Excellent plan, Mister Thorne.” I’d already done it once, I reminded her. “Just don’t make a habit of it, or of angering gods with your depravity.”

“I’ll try my best,” I said.

“Are there any other questions?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What about the one Remilia indicated?”

“Oh yeah.”

I’d forgotten about it, but I still had my thumb marking the page. I flipped through my notebook and read down my notes. Then my face felt hot. The only question on page 139 was:

How do humans and youkai have sex without the human turning into a youkai?

“Are you alright, Mister Thorne?”

“I need a minute,” I said.

What were the implications of this? It sure seemed like Remilia had arranged for me to be alone with Patchouli, in private, in the middle of the night with a suggestive topic, when we were both in need of some severe stress relief. The only way it could have been more nefarious and obvious would be if she’d gotten us drunk first.

Patchouli pulled a full, clear bottle out from her desk.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Lady Remilia dropped off some water, earlier,” she said with a frown. “I think she made a mistake, though. This is vodka.”

“I don’t drink anymore, not since losing my kidney,” I said. I’d gotten a new one, but still.

“Neither do I,” she said. “Not vodka, anyway. Are you thirsty?” She really had no idea how thirsty I was. I nodded, and she summoned magical water into a pair of empty cups.

“Thank you.” My thoughts continued.

Was the vampire secretly my fate-manipulating wingwoman? Or she might just be messing with my emotions for her amusement? There was no way that Patchouli would answer my question with a demonstration, right?

Of course not! That’d be absurd.

“Mister Thorne?” asked Patchouli, waving a hand in front of my face. “Are you getting tired? You seem to be dozing off.”

“I thought of another question,” I said, delaying the moment of rejection. “Why did the notebook change text today, but not earlier?”

“Perhaps it has been changing often,” she said. “Midnight is when Yukari is most powerful, and midnight is when we saw the message. I can only assume that the boundary between worlds is easier for her to overcome at that time.” She sipped her water. “You should probably spend every night at the mansion from now on.”

“Y-you don’t say.”

“Or at least leave your notebook here so I can ward it.”

“That might be easier, logistically.”

“That was your question?” she asked.

“No, um, it was something else.” I closed the notebook. She gave me a curious look. I smiled at her. I wasn’t afraid of failure, or that’s what I told myself, at least.

Time to fail.

“How can youkai and humans safely have sex with each other?” I asked Patchouli Knowledge. The question left a very scarlet look on the librarian’s face. I was glad she also felt embarrassed. It made me feel less out of place.

“There’s an invention from the Outside World that prevents the exchange of bodily-fluids,” said Patchouli, ignoring my non-sequitur.

“Condoms?” I asked.

“Oh. I wasn’t sure if you’d heard of them already.”

I laughed. “You waved them in my face once before, remember?”

“I did do that, didn’t I,” she said.

“I thought it might be something as simple as that. What about kissing?”

“Mouthwash,” she said.

“Youkainess is a bacteria?”

“No, mouthwash is magical,” she said. She wasn’t meeting my eyes.

“Oh. That stuff causes cancer, though.” The price of fresh breath was terrible indeed. Mouthwash had fallen out of vogue, like many cancer-causing cleanliness habits of the early 21st century.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Most youkai are immune to cancer,” she said, “So the responsible party should be the youkai. As long as one of the pair uses mouthwash first, both should be safe. Not that the youkai is in any danger.”

“Huh.” I looked at the bottle of vodka. “You know, mouthwash is basically–”

“I’m aware, Mister Thorne,” she said, her face still red. There was an awkward silence. I stared at her pale lips, until I noticed that she’d noticed I was looking, then I looked at the ceiling.

“Well, thanks for answering my questions,” I said.

“I feel like there may be some yet unanswered,” she said. “Do you think Remilia is suggesting that we have sex this evening?”

“That’s, uh… maybe we could just start with kissing!” I looked at her. She was looking straight back at me.

“Mister Thorne,” she said. “Where is kissing in my bedroom going to lead us?”

“I don’t… well, somewhere pleasant, maybe?”

She laughed. “I endeavor to go straight to the answer, once it is known to me. I’m not going to kiss you unless I’m comfortable with the conclusion to that chain of logic.”

“Are you?” I asked. I was feeling emboldened by her shy but sustained eye contact. She stared at me, thinking, and my nerve faltered. “I doubt you are interested in that sort of thing, but yeah, that’s what I wanted to really ask you.” I looked down at my hands. “I can understand if you… don’t feel those emotions.”

“I must admit that I am interested in the possibility,” said the librarian, making my heart leap. “However, I’ve given this a fair amount of thought, and I think it’s a bad idea.”

“Why?” I asked. She’d been thinking about it already?

“My reasoning is a memetic threat, in that knowing it makes the outcome it predicts more likely,” she said. “Are you sure you want to know?” I paused to consider it for five seconds.

“I think it’s worth the risk, but I trust your judgement.”

“Okay,” she said. “Well, human relationships are just messy. Strife from romantic jealousy, for example, is a major issue. It has been known to make humans crazy and ineffective. Beyond that, the added complexity of sexual relationships is famous for destroying friend groups, teams, and social institutions. There is a reason that most human cultures frown upon coworkers pursuing each other romantically.”

“Please tell me the Scarlet Devil Mansion doesn’t have a non-fraternization policy,” I said.

“It doesn’t, but it hasn’t needed one, Mister Throne. I’m the only youkai here that experiences sexual desire.”

“I feel your pain,” I said, instead of asking about whether the lustful koakuma were faking it.

“What's more relevant is that our mission is of unusual importance.” She looked away. “If we… take our relationship to that level, it may impede our ability to save Gensokyo. And Maroon.”

“I see. You’re worried that if we break up, I’ll get bad at my job.”

“Or if it continues and goes poorly, it will hinder us,” she said. “Or if Arnold or Sasha become jealous that you were the first to experience romantic success, or if any of a thousand unpredictable complications occur. So you can see why I’m hesitant.”

“And the mission is more important than anything else,” I said. “Naturally.”

“Just so. Jake, I assume that for you such dalliances wouldn’t be a matter of mere expediency?” She gave a small, sad smile. “You’d get emotionally attached?”

I exhaled. “Of course I would.”

“Then I think it’s a bad idea.”

“You’re right, obviously,” I said. “The mission is more important than… anything else.” I blinked, and that was how I noticed I was extremely, heart-breakingly upset with this outcome. “But what about afterward?”

“Pardon?”

“After the mission,” I said. “Would you want to… well, would you accept a relationship after I save Maroon, and possibly Gensokyo?”

“Holding my body aside as a prize for victory seems emotionally toxic,” said Patchouli. “I don’t want an obligation like that for either of us, nor do I think it serves to motivate you in a healthy way. Maroon is unlikely to manifest again if you are going on expeditions for a sexual reward, pining for me all the while.”

“Of course,” I said bitterly. “I don’t know why I thought otherwise.”

Actually, I did know why I felt the way I felt. Because Patchouli was attractive as hell to me, and I wanted to have sex with her. I still wanted to. I knew I’d be thinking about it the very next day. I was going to have to find a way to ignore that thought, I thought. There would be emotional labor no matter what I chose. I was already pining for her!

The tiniest frown from her, and the slight hitch in her voice, made me suspect she felt the same. Her name might be Knowledge, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t think herself into a corner.

“Well, if that’s settled–” said Patchouli.

“Hold on a second,” I said. “You know what, I don’t agree. Having a relationship won’t hinder our mission–it will help it instead!"

"Pardon?"

"Isn’t it important for humans to be happy and fulfilled?”

“There’s more to that than sex,” she said.

“True! And because we work together, and protect each other, and have the same goals… that’s why I find you attractive in the first place!” I laughed angrily and stood up to pace back and forth in her small bedroom. “Look, if you don’t want to make out with me, whatever, fine–but don’t pretend it’s for the greater good!”

“What else is it for?” she asked, her head turning to watch me. After a moment she was standing too. “I thought that the greater good is what motivated you!”

“It is, but I’m set up to be hurt either way!” I shook my head. “Sacrifice for the greater good is noble, but only to the extent that it’s necessary. And I see no reason why celibacy is necessary! I deprived myself enough on Earth, thank you very much!”

“Then avail yourself of a demon, and–”

“But I don’t like demons!” I said. She took a step back.

“And you like me?”

“I mean–yeah. Of course I do! You’re awesome!”

“I can have no children, Jake,” she said. “I cannot leave the library. I won’t age with you, and you’ll find that my range of emotion is lacking. I don’t go on dates. I don’t even do public displays of affection, and I won’t be exclusive. I’m not human, whatever your hindbrain says. Our relationship will only be fulfilling in the most basic of ways.”

“Fine,” I said. “You’re still super hot, super intelligent, and the selfless epitome of the power of knowledge.” She blushed, and I pressed harder. “And you feel it yourself, don’t you? Attraction?”

“A little.” Her face was glowing bright.

“Maybe I’m just lusting after you, but I won’t deny my feelings any longer. And if you break up with me later, or something, I’ll work through my emotions as they occur.”

She stared at me. “I think we have a fundamental disagreement about this.”

“Yeah, well, it only takes one ‘no’,” I said. I exhaled. “I just wanted to express myself. I came on a bit strongly. Sorry to put you in a tough spot.”

“It’s fine,” said Patchouli Knowledge. “In fact, I’d like to understand your perspective better.” She walked to the other side of the bedroom and lifted ten inches into the air. “Let’s stop beating around the bush.”

“Wha-?”

I reflexively leapt to the side as Patchouli burst with danmaku.

—

A fundamental rule was that all danmaku inherently had safe areas. It was impossible to make a spell card that could not be dodged, countered, or outrun (or usually all three). However, locked in a small room with a very skilled magician, the safe area might be the size of a shoebox and hidden under her bed.

“Silent Selene,” said Patchouli.

Gobs of water, teal and icy-blue danmaku, formed around her and shot forward. She drenched the walls and ceiling with water that evaporated instantly. I’d asked her for sex, and she was trying to spray me down.

During my lessons we’d talked about positioning. The key to success in a danmaku battle was finding the narrow slice of safety in the patterns one encountered. Danmaku was shiny, colorful, and beautiful; safety was empty, blank, and sparse.

To escape danmaku unscathed, one had to look for emptiness. I wasn’t hit. Instead I dove under Patchouli’s bed. A moment later she was looking at me from the other side, her purple hair falling onto the carpet as she hovered upside-down.

“What’s in the shoebox?” I asked.

“Royal Flare,” she responded, filling the dark space with gobs of fiery light. I retreated and slammed into the wall opposite her, but I wasn’t fast enough, and one of her danmaku bullets hit me.

My heart began to pound, a symptom of overexertion. Patchouli was beautiful, but part of that beauty was its distance and ephemeral nature. To seek was sanctifying; to find would be mundane, and her health didn’t permit much finding.

She wanted me to be content to desire without consummation. I shot her with vectors filled with my emotion, and she gasped. It did make me feel a bit better.

Her expression changed. “Lava Cromlech,” she said, shooting fireballs and yellowed danmaku at me. I spun and tilted, dodging the burst and narrowly avoiding a shelf.

“Conviction Mines!” I said.

How could I be so certain that sex with Patchouli would help the mission?

I fucking couldn’t. Conviction isn’t about certainty or being right–it’s about commitment to action. I was committed, if not to sleeping with her, then to helping her understand my feelings. The mission would be better if she knew how much I longed for her in the meantime, because if she saw that and ignored it, I’d have to learn to ignore it too!

“Forest Blaze!” she said, clearing the mines between us with even more fireballs and a smattering of pink sparks.

I was struck. The hollowness in my stomach grew, and my knees became weak. I kept firing at her, and she made no attempt to dodge.

“You really want to win this,” she said, breathing hard. “You believe it will be difficult, either way. You believe it will make you happy, but it will be just as hard to deal without, as with.

“Of course I do,” I said, also panting. I was distracted by the curve of her shoulder. At some points she’d lost her coverlet. “You don’t think this will make you happy?”

“I don’t want to be happy,” she said. “I want to succeed.”

“Maybe… maybe happiness is important too!”

“And that…” she said, gesturing. My pants felt tight. I looked down, then back up at her.

“You–you want to lose!” I said. “These are your emotions I’m feeling!”

“I’m not sure what I want anymore,” she said. She was still looking at my crotch. “I think you’re more biased than I am, though.”

“Use danmaku that I’m weak to, then!” I had an affinity for fire. Her weak elemental matchup made me suspect she was pulling her punches.

“Hydrogenous Prominence!” Patchouli Knowledge emitted a wall of car-sized sunlight danmaku that I somehow grazed between. Then she shot me with a tightly-focused blast of water, right in the chest.

“... not… funny,” I said, gasping. My will was almost broken, and also I couldn’t stand up straight without making myself uncomfortable.

“It’s somewhat funny,” she said. “High-level Sylphy Horn!”

Yellow bolts of danmaku zigzagged around the room. I dodged them as they came in from weird angles, inching forward. Patchouli backed up toward a wall and into one of my mines. I kept closing the distance, until we were almost touching, until I could feel her breath on my face. She was breathing quickly.

“You stopped firing danmaku,” she said.

“Distracted,” I said. My hand was on her wrist. I looked at her lips, then her eyes. She looked back at me with defiance. With titanic effort, I disengaged my hand and drifted back.

“Phlogistic Rain,” she said. Two continuous streams of danmaku came from either side of her. I pushed back as far as I could, but the rays crossed and defeated me.

The emotion was one of self-restraint and longing. Patchouli had decided to remain chaste; I should choose the same. I was too weak to stand, suddenly. Human emotion confused and frightened and thrilled her, so much that she had to step back. It was too much for her.

I fell on her desk. The compulsion was to admit defeat.

“I yield,” I said, panting. “You’re so cruel.”

“I know,” she said. “But now you understand how I feel.” She was covering her face.

“Yeah. I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight, you realize?”

“Too… on?” she asked. My face began to burn.

“Too much exercise.”

“I’m sorry, Jake,” said Patchouli, looking down. “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Thanks for listening, I guess.”

“I was wrong, before,” she continued. “You’re more emotionally-mature than I gave you credit for. You’re already filled with strength.”

I could only nod.

“It makes sense. You feel the whole breadth of human emotions, and always have. You’ve had to deal with them your entire life.” Patchouli drifted toward me, and passed me as I stepped aside. My heart was beating fast. “I’m still learning to navigate them.”

“It takes practice,” I said. I stepped further back and bumped into the edge of her bed. She was doing something at her desk.

“Let us practice, then.” She lifted the bottle of vodka from before, and swished a mouthful in her mouth. After she swallowed it she looked at me with a certainty of purpose that almost stopped my heart.

“Eh?”

Patchouli flew forward, and gently pushed me onto the bed. Then she kissed me. She could fly: she was on top in a moment.

“Are you strong enough?” I asked. I was feeling weak.

“We traded emotions,” she said, pulling my shirt up. “I’ve fed. I’m strong enough for now.”

Patchouli reached into her extra-dimensional space and pulled out a box filled with tinfoil-wrapped packets. She kissed me again. I could taste the alcohol in her mouth.

“Did you know that Kourindou gives these to youkai for free?” she asked as she demonstrated that she could undo clothing with telekinesis. “The value isn’t inherent to the device, of course.”

And holy hell, when Patchouli used them, they were of extraordinary value.