“Can’t you fly any further?” asked Marisa as I landed for the third time. “This is embarrassin’.” The witch continued to fly alongside me, atop her broom. She flew just high enough so that she could look down on me at all times.

“Couldn’t you have stayed on the surface?” I responded as I walked for a bit to recharge.

“I got tired of being interrupted,” replied Marisa with a glance toward my communication crystal. “Never let someone else hold the ladle when you are brewing a potion, that’s my philosophy.”

Patchouli hadn’t said anything since Marisa’s arrival. I knew the livestream was ongoing: Nazrin’s power was still causing the crystal to turn and guide me. At that very moment it was pointing us toward the edge of the Old Capital.

The direction was vaguely familiar. It wasn’t until I saw the stained glass windows that I realized our destination was the Palace of the Earth Spirits. Marisa continued to follow me, scanning for threats but not engaging with any of the earth-themed youkai that attacked. I felt I should address it after repelling a troll.

“Miss Kirisame,” I said. “I would gladly accept your help and advice.”

“Good!”

“If it didn’t come wrapped in three layers of insults and unfair criticism,” I continued.

“Look, someone’s gotta tell you that you suck,” she said as I fired upon a youkai and turned it away. “Everyone else doesn’t seem to have noticed.”

“I don’t suck. I’ve been making extraordinary progress. Eight months ago I didn’t even know magic was real, and now I’m probably the fourth or fifth most powerful human user of danmaku in all of Gensokyo!”

That was mostly due to a dearth of human magic users. Sasha or Raghav might be better than me, but Marisa and Reimu certainly were–Sanae too–and almost everyone else who could do magic was a youkai, not a human. And in my heart of hearts, I didn’t believe Sasha or Raghav were even close. I was trying to be a realistic rationalist that accounted for my fallibility and took the outside perspective.

From the outside, I was probably looking pretty powerful.

“Listen to yourself,” she said. “Fourth best human? You aren’t fighting humans, dumbass! ‘Extraordinary progress’ from powerless to very weak!”

“I can’t just decide to be the best and have it magically happen,” I objected.

“Being the best might not be enough anyway–”

“It literally is. Danmaku is a competitive sport, so if I were the best, that’d be it!”

Normally I wouldn’t be so willing to argue with Marisa, but I knew an audience was watching. I couldn’t let her slander me without challenging her, especially not in front of Patchouli. It also helped that I could disappear back to the surface with a word. If Marisa decided she wanted to fight, I’d shout ‘see ‘ya, witch’ and disappear.

“Even the strongest will lose, if they aren’t giving it their all,” said Marisa. “Or are just havin’ a bad day. If they’re careless, or stupid, or surprised. It’s not enough to be strong, I’m telling ‘ya, ‘ya gotta be deliberate.”

We were walking up to the doorway to the Palace of the Earth spirits. I hesitated. Marisa flew low and threw the door open without dismounting her broom.

“That–that’s actually reasonable,” I said with a nod. I closed the door behind us. We wouldn’t want to accidentally let one of Satori’s pets out, especially not when her sister was watching us. “It doesn’t make insulting me okay, though!”

“Well, how else can you get your ego in check?” asked the black and white witch from above me. “Telling a man to be humble is useless.” The hallways in the palace were comically over large, as though built for giants, so she could stick to the air pretty easily.

I walked on the ground, followed by a youkai that neither Marisa nor I were concerned about. I felt a bit better to have the youkai at our back, though. Koishi was wearing green and a smile.

“Don’t call something useless when you haven’t even tried it,” I said. “If you think I’m being too arrogant that’s all you have to say.”

“It never works. You tell people that and they get more arrogant. You have to show them instead.” I thought of all the youkai that were stronger than me–and that I knew were stronger than me–and objected.

“I’ve got a realistic appreciation of my weakness, thank you very much.”

“Nuh-uh. You think ‘cause you’re better than your friends, you’re good enough.” I actually hadn’t thought of them at all for quite awhile. I felt bad.

Sasha and Arnold were going to get cleansed at that very moment. I should have been worried about Arnold’s fate. Both of them had been at risk of becoming youkai, just like me, albeit a little less immediately and completely. I’d been leading the charge.

“I’m trying my hardest irrespective of Sasha and Arnold’s progress,” I said. Some part of my mind noticed that Koishi had disappeared.

“Don’t lie,” she said. “You aren’t tryin’ to beat this as fast as possible, you’re just trying to be faster than them, and it shows.” Marisa looked at her fingernails. “Having a weakling following right behind you is worse than useless.”

“They aren’t weak,” I said, my anger rising.

“You are all weak! And you will keep being weak until you start to take this seriously! You should be living, breathing danmaku.”

“How?”

“Fighting ten times a day!”

“Is that what you do?” I asked, rhetorically.

“Yes, actually!” she said. Marisa looked toward the ceiling and scowled. She’d tried to check the time. Maybe she was thinking she was overdue for a battle. “I live and breathe danmaku, while you guys have little meetings and go to bathhouses and eat at restaurants and do chores.”

“Is that why your house is so messy?”

“It’s clean,” she said. “Sucks that you don’t know magic, boy!”

“I’m older than you,” I said, unable to stop myself. I hated it when younger people were promoted above me, even if it was by virtue of being a main character. Marisa was in her twenties if I was being generous.

“Still a boy!”

“I’m mature and wise enough to listen to my betters,” I said. “Notice that I’m trying to ignore you.”

“Your loss, bozo,” said Marisa. There was little anger in it–if anything, she seemed a bit happier that I’d chosen to fight back. “How many days did ‘ya have left for this, anyway?”

“We’ve used sixty-seven of one hundred eighty. We’re right on schedule.”

We were actually a week behind schedule if one assumed there’d be six stages and that any extra stage would be optional. I could tell from the look on her face that Marisa could do math and that she was not impressed with our progress.

“Ha!” she said. “And you think it’ll get easier or somethin? Stage three is going to be harder… although it’s always stage four that’s the worst!” she shook her head, her giant hat rotating back and forth on her head. It had lots of rotational inertia. “I have half a mind to blast you right now, give ‘ya a preview.”

“Don’t do that,” I said. “You don’t want to become stage three.”

“That’s not how it works,” she said with a frown.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “Whenever there’s an incident, opponents come out of the woodwork, right? And I’m the protagonist of this one, so you’d be an opponent?”

“A protagonist,” she said.

“Still. You might be signing up for something if we fight right now.” This gave her pause, as it should.

All incidents involved six (or seven) stages, with a boss at the end each stage. It could have been a coincidence, the first few times, but after so many years it looked more like fate, or some sort of magical influence. Wiki and I had noticed this, thought about the implications, and then moved onto the next step where we’d inferred a magical compulsion making people fight for the sake of fighting.

If it could be measured, it could be manipulated.

Wiki and I had tried to brainstorm ways to munchkin the requirement to fight several opponents. One possibility was getting people who were relatively friendly to challenge us: then we could be more confident that any challengers were unlikely to kill us if we lost. If we pushed it we might be able to just fight a string of allied youkai who could throw the match.

Ultimately, we had decided not to try to mess with fate, or whatever mysterious force made incidents in Gensokyo all have six (or seven) parts. Despite that, the idea might still be useful for making Marisa hesitate.

I contemplated it as we snuck around Satori’s house. Where was the mind reader, anyway?

“I’m not coming down here to fight ya’ every day,” said Marisa. “You can come challenge me, instead.”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Is that an offer to practice together?” I asked.

“An offer for me to beat your ass? Absolutely!”

“You might be surprised,” I said. Marisa snorted. “But I will practice with you. Sure.”

“If you wake me up at noon again I’ll just kill ‘ya, though.”

Marisa guarded Human Town at night. I realized she was pulling an all-nighter (or more accurately an all-dayer) to observe my expedition. Maybe that was part of why she was so short-tempered.

It might not be easy to find Marisa to challenge in the first place, since she lived in the forest of magic. I’d have to locate her house again despite it teleporting around. I wrote down some thoughts about how to do that, and made a note to challenge her later in the afternoon to avoid disrupting her sleep.

“Pfft, taking notes,” she said. “Are you putting it on your calendar? Making time in your busy schedule of screwing around and slacking off?”

“... I should make a schedule,” I said.

“No sense of humor at all,” said Marisa while shaking her head. “I can see why Patchy likes you.”

“I’m glad,” I said. Her head tilted–she hadn’t expected me to take the idea of Patchouli liking me for granted. That was a bad sign, so I quickly went on. “But since I’m on an expedition right now, anyone who decides to fight me might become a recurring enemy. So watch your step.”

“I’m not scared of you,” she said.

“I just don’t want to waste your valuable time,” I said. “If you get suckered into being a stage boss, you’ll have to come down here every day.” She was scared of work, I was pretty sure.

“I like the way you think,” said Satori Komeiji, making me jump.

The mind-reading youkai had snuck up on us. Her sister was with her and gave us a wave. I waved to Koishi before I had fully remembered her, but once I did I also smiled warmly.

“I was talking to Jake,” added Satori, to Marisa.

“It isn’t nice to sneak up on people,” said the witch. She hadn’t even flinched at Satori and Koishi’s sudden appearance.

“It isn’t nice to break and enter,” countered the youkai.

“I haven’t broken anything.”

“Only because I left the door unlocked. I was commenting on your proclivities, not recent events.” Satori turned toward Koishi. “Please tell Utsuho and Rin that we have guests, and that we need to accommodate them.”

Koishi saluted and flew away. I watched her go.

“Would you like some coffee, Miss Kirisame?” asked Satori.

“Yes, please,” said Marisa. “That’d be excellent.”

“Oh, I wasn’t offering any, merely discussing preferences and hypotheticals,” said the mind reading youkai with a wave of her hand. “Coffee is only for the well-mannered. But your craving for coffee is almost as delicious as coffee itself.”

“Grr.”

“Bitter and invigorating! But unlike you, I know the way to my kitchen!”

I knew where Satori’s kitchen was. Sasha and I had spent a weekend at the Palace of the Earth Spirits, caring for her animals. I wasn’t about to take Marisa there to raid it. Satori gave me a wink before turning back toward the witch.

“Yes, I’m being mean to you,” Satori continued. “He’s getting special treatment because he’s a good person. That was a jab. No, just friends. Ohhhhh.”

Satori laughed, and Marisa’s face turned redder.

“Your control over your thoughts is lacking! Is it because you are tired?”

“Don’t you dare–” said Marisa.

“Jake, I’m so sorry,” said Satori. She put a hand on my shoulder. “Marisa would destroy me, but otherwise I’d tell you her most intimate secrets, and it would be hilarious.”

“Darn,” I said. Marisa glared at me. “That’s an infohazard if I’ve ever not heard one.”

“Don’t worry, I’m really good at walking the line with this one,” continued Satori. “Not telling you is hilarious too. Oh, compulsions wouldn’t work.” She’d turned back to Marisa. “Even if you defeated him, there’s also the hundred or so people you two brought with you.”

She jerked her head toward the crystal. It conveyed her mind reading as easily as Patchouli’s telepathy.

“I can’t say that I appreciate you bringing so many strangers here, Jake,” said Satori. “As punishment…” My heart almost stopped. I was not ready to fight with Marisa about Patchouli’s affections; if she revealed that secret I might actually die. “...you’re genuinely afraid of Marisa, whatever face you’re putting on.”

I tried to contain my embarrassment. It was true, sane, and obvious, so why should I be embarrassed? Marisa’s shit-eating grin was ten percent of its maximum size, so even she didn’t think it was newsworthy. I supposed that I appreciated Satori’s restraint. Then I remembered that Patchouli was a youkai, so maybe that was why Satori wasn’t saying my biggest secret.

“The crystal guided us here,” I said. “I guess our path leads to the other side? Maybe we could fly over, or–”

Satori frowned as she interrupted me. “That’s unfortunate. There’s only one place that could mean.”

“Is it down–” came Nazrin’s voice over the crystal.

“Yes,” said Satori. “That’s the one.”

“Damnit.”

“Well, then–” I started.

“How’d you know?” asked Satori with her hand to her lips. She smiled. “Just a little joke. I can’t recommend that you go that way. It’s unsafe for humans. No, not going over the roof–going into the well in the backyard. There’s no flight path that skips the palace anyway.”

“An underground well,” I said.

“Yes. It’s very dry, though. And hot.”

“Wiki is speculating loudly and insistently,” said Nazrin over the connection. “He’s essentially correct, as painful as that is to admit.”

“Even more deadly,” said Satori to Marisa. “The kappa have been running it for years.”

“Is there a–” I started again.

“No,” said Satori. “Oh, you weren’t thinking to me. Please, continue.”

“Is there a way around whatever this place is? A different route?”

“No,” said Nazrin. “I don’t think so.”

Satori didn’t want us to go there, and it was deadly besides, so I thought of her challenging me and she responded to my thought faster than I could speak.

“Oh no, no no,” said Satori. “I won’t challenge you to stop you. Just trying to set expectations! For example, it doesn’t have much water in it, that’s boiled away, but the water that does remain is kinda heavy.”

“Then–”

“But I am going to ask you to do me a favor,” said the youkai with an external eye.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Feed my pets.” She floated up into the air and back. “They’re really hungry. All of them, not just the two you’re thinking about.” Satori whistled shrilly by blowing through her fingers.

A moment later three dogs ran around the corner–no–it was a dog with three heads. A chihuahua. And all three heads started emitting danmaku as well as shrill barks. Marisa flew up and back as I dodged to the left and right.

“Amigo is precious!” shouted Satori as she fled. “That crystal is what’s loud and annoying! I’ll see you two later. By the way, half the audience is trying to look at your bloomers instead of Amigo!”

I snapped my fingers. I’d forgotten Satori’s dog’s name.

Marisa swooped low to reduce the show. I began striking Amigo the cerebus with danmaku. He was quickly cowed. Honestly, he was a sweet dog, and really liked licking people with his three heads when he wasn’t running for his life.

Then a flock of angry geese rounded the corner right behind him. I had the sense that the dog had been running from them, and that we were the lesser threat, and indeed the geese were the ones that Satori had summoned with a whistle.

The geese honked at me and sent out green and white bullets. They had scaled legs and feet, and serpent tails.

“Cockatrice geese,” I said. “Cock-a-geese.”

“So geese, then,” said Marisa.

—

There were lots of animals in the Palace of the Earth Spirits. Satori made a habit of turning them into youkai, and some of them already were youkai, although once they ‘grew up’ (as Satori put it) they usually moved away. Growing up meant learning to speak and transform into a humanoid shape. Satori was uplifting them, and word had (somehow?) gotten around to any animal that wanted to be uplifted.

It was illegal for humans to turn into youkai in Gensokyo, but no such restrictions applied to animals turning into youkai, or into humanoids for that matter.

A flying squirrel attacked me with acorn-sized bullets. It was a red squirrel–it definitely shouldn’t have been able to fly! There were a few others right behind it with saber teeth, jumping along the tiles and doing frontflips.

It turned out that Satori’s pets could do danmaku. I shouldn’t have been surprised at this: if humans could do danmaku, why not animals? Why not other things, like plants, or bacteria? I blasted the flying squirrel and compelled it to fly away.

Satori couldn’t read the minds of plants or bacteria, so perhaps they lacked something special that was needed to do danmaku, as well.

I found myself contemplating whether Satori selected for animals who had the knack for it, or if animals were better at it than humans, or if the non-practicing animals were avoiding us, or if these animals in particular just had a huge advantage from living with youkai themselves. There were too many possibilities to track. A perfectly-ordinary cat padded down the hallway, ignoring us. I counted its tails. It had only one.

Two would have meant Rin, the hellcat. Or possibly Chen, who was around here somewhere.

I was grateful that Satori hadn’t taught the chickens on the surface to use danmaku. It would make collecting their eggs difficult. As I thought this, I dodged a yellow danmaku crescent. It was about the size of a fruit.

“A gorilla flinging bananas!” said Marisa as she doubled over in laughter. The witch hadn’t fired a single bullet herself, so far.

“His name is Mister Squish,” I said as I returned fire with red vectors. If she were more considerate she’d learn their names. I hadn’t remembered the cerberus’s name, though; I could have been more considerate myself.

“‘Cause he squishes ya?” she asked.

“No, cause he’s squishy,” I replied. “Or so I’ve heard.” Koishi and Sasha had told me as much. I hadn’t been brave enough to give him a hug, myself.

Mister Squish was smart enough to lead my motion with his danmaku, so I had to move erratically. I’d met him before. The gorilla knew how to play checkers and clean up after the other pets, and he knew more sign language than famous gorillas from the surface. There were advantages to having a mind reader as a caretaker, including superior language acquisition.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know sign language, so I could only nod at his wild gesticulating. Despite his educated nature I hadn’t been comfortable enough to sit next to him or give him a hug, no matter how many times Koishi said it was safe. I wasn’t really a hugs-gorillas kind of guy, and Mister Squish was excitable.

As far as I could tell, his youkai ability was that he could consume coffee. Normal gorillas couldn’t do that, nor should they, youkai or not.

Mister Squish was part youkai, part animal-that-was-way-stronger-than-humans. I wouldn’t take any chances. It was notable that Satori didn’t keep any chimps, which were more closely related to humans and also absolute bastards. She did have a tiger, though.

The gorilla was the midboss, I was pretty sure. It took a minute to defeat him. He seemed upset at his loss, but Koishi was there to comfort him. There was a momentary reprieve in the onslaught.

“I’m surprised,” said Marisa as we continued. “I thought the monkey would get you.”

“Ape,” I said automatically.

“I know what I said.”

Then a spider monkey dropped from the ceiling and struck me with danmaku. It had extra limbs, but not eight total, so the name wasn’t perfectly accurate. I felt my will giving way, a compulsion to find a treat jar and open the three layers of ‘enrichment’ so that the monkey didn’t have to figure it out for itself.

I’d been running on empty after my close battle with Suika and Yuugi. That was the final hit, for me. I reflexively fled without considering whether giving a spider monkey treats was a compulsion I needed to resist.

“Okina save me,” I said. I disappeared, leaving Marisa alone, laughing uproariously in a mansion full of other animals that she proceeded to ‘feed’ with wild abandon.