And What Alice Found There

[linkhyrule5]

Oh, Rumia. "Is that so" indeed.

Now, here's a question. How much of this did Aya intend?

[Dizzy H. "Muffin" Muffin]

Oh, Rumia. "Is that so" indeed.

Now, here's a question. How much of this did Aya intend?

well, I can't imagine she planned on dying.


I gotta say, you've really got a talent for making everything interesting. And the references. The references!

Hang on, quick fanfiction-of-fanfiction:

"My comment had nothing to do with this," said Minerva. "To say nothing of that dreadful creature who wanted to be eaten."

"Oh, do be quiet," said Violet Hearn. "Enjoy your meal, and enjoy the show."

Through the windows above them, the universe began to end.

[linkhyrule5]

well, I can't imagine she planned on dying.

That's just it, though. Aya came on a highly dangerous mission to a field of poisonous flowers, said she was "cutting the strings," and then got herself lost in said flowers despite knowing better than everyone what would happen if she did so.

And then Yukari reveals that Aya's death was highly problematic to her plans.

I think Aya's pulling a Thanatos Gambit here. Or at least trying to throw them off Yukari's rails by throwing herself under the train... or something.

[Iced Fairy]

That's just it, though. Aya came on a highly dangerous mission to a field of poisonous flowers, said she was "cutting the strings," and then got herself lost in said flowers despite knowing better than everyone what would happen if she did so.

And then Yukari reveals that Aya's death was highly problematic to her plans.

I think Aya's pulling a Thanatos Gambit here. Or at least trying to throw them off Yukari's rails by throwing herself under the train... or something.

You may be tossing a little too much weight on what was most likely a spur of the moment choice.  And perhaps undervaluing Aya's willingness to help others.

[linkhyrule5]

... That would imply the above conjunction of events is a coincidence and a red herring.

... Unlikely.

[nolrai2]

hmm. I am not really seeing the unlikely hood. People do mess up and die.

[linkhyrule5]

They do. But it's... oh, it's Chekov's Gun, basically. Narratively, it's very unlikely.

[AnonymousPondScum]

I would not discount Yukari trying to bank a plan off of Aya's death and the other chaos, though.

[linkhyrule5]

Well, sure. It was an attempt, and it seemed to work (that or Yukari is very good at faking emotions, which I could believe), but hey.

[Yayifications]

The first snow of Gensokyo quickly turned to slush, and disappeared into the dry days that followed. Judging from the overheard commentary of the villagers, this was a sure harbinger of severe frost to come, in the non-specific near future.

Minerva spent most of her time indoors, preferably somewhere with a warm fire to sit by. After her abortive attempt to reach the top of Youkai Mountain, and the subsequent sheepish expedition to retrieve the remains of the balloon, she had made a point to put on a few public appearances in the village to forestall rumours of her spectacular demise, before plummeting temperatures drove her to shelter.

The library holding the majority of the Hieda materials had been converted from an outlying wing of the village school, which had in turn been borrowed indefinitely from the old municipal government offices. Some alterations to the architecture had been made in the service to convenience and comfort, including the installation of modern European-style fireplaces on every floor. Thankfully, each one had been carefully designed to limit the hazards of open flame in the vicinity of so much paper.

The Hieda library was situated in the basement, set apart from the reading and lending library meant for the masses. Minerva could hear the occasional snatch of conversation and thumping footsteps from above, which was a heartening indication of the number of village residents seeking self-improvement. Minerva had encountered far too many people in Britain to whom reading began and ended with the Bible, and even then not very well.

One set of footsteps could be heard making its way down to the basement, pausing momentarily before the sliding door into the library. The door was gingerly opened, just enough for Kamishirasawa to poke his head in to glance around.

Minerva gave him a cheery wave from the nest of books she had constructed around herself, before placing a finger on her lips for silence, indicating the fireplace with a flick of her eyes.

Alice had insisted on helping Minerva with her research after lunch, and brought an armload of promising-looking books to the fireside to read. She had lasted for approximately ninety minutes before nodding off, and was now curled up like a contented cat around her last book, Minerva's coat laid gently over her.

Kamishirasawa nodded, and carefully entered the room, making as little noise as possible. He padded over to Minerva, and frowned meaningfully at the mess of paper around her.

"I'll put them all back where I found them," Minerva reassured him. "I work best this way; though it might not seem so, there is an order to this chaos. My personal order." She placed a hand on a tattered journal on her left. "An account of expenses over the course of a minor landowner's life." She shifted her hand to rest on a sturdy tome beside the journal. "A listing of superstitions and folklore associated with that region, explaining some of the landowner's more obscure payments." A scroll lying on top of the tome, haphazardly rerolled. "Representations of creatures from those local myths." Minerva continued pointing out books in sequence as she laid out her chain of thoughts. "A collection of methods used by a youkai hunter long past to deal with those creatures. A travel guide for another region of Japan, likely the background of that youkai hunter. An exploration of common religious rituals, including those prevalent in that region. A thesis on numerology often used in Far Eastern rituals. Its direct rebuttal, from the archives of the Jesuits. And a synthesis of those ideas, buried in a collection of poetic structures."

Kamishirasawa looked skeptical. "And you can recall every piece of information that you come across in this manner?"

"I do not have that particular talent, I'm afraid. But now and again some helpful trifle makes itself known in my mind, and I may well find it of use." Minerva waved a hand, indicating the library as a whole. "And the pursuit of knowledge is the primary concern of an amateur scholar as myself."

"A scholar, and a magician?"

Minerva's smile turned fixed. "That, too."

Kamishirasawa nodded. "I was just checking to see if you needed anything. Alice as well, but she seems happy enough here. Are you staying long?"

Minerva took out her silver pocketwatch, still ticking away quietly without any apparent need of winding. "Mm. I suspect Alice will wake in time for dinner, which will be our cue to depart."

"A nap after lunch beside a warm fire, followed by another hearty meal. A pleasant life."

"Would that I could make it last forever. Alice has been working hard for my account, and nothing I can say seems able to deter her from trying to help in every way. I keep thinking she should have a happy childhood, but..."

But what? Countless generations had lived here in Gensokyo, with little more visible effect on their collective psyche than a heavier standard of Oriental inscrutability. For all its youkai, Gensokyo was hardly more dangerous to young people than other, more mundane locales. Less so than the smoke-filled factories of London, at that.

Would Minerva be willing to raise Alice here? Particularly since, if all went well, Gensokyo's dangers would be drastically reduced in the very near future. Life in a small village in rural Japan was certainly an option, as Maria Kirisame proved. Although given a choice, Minerva would prefer taking Alice back to England...

Minerva viciously clamped down on the sudden bout of homesickness. "What do you think, Kamishirasawa-san?" she asked instead. "How is Alice doing, from your perspective?"

"I doubt I can help you there, Margatroid-san," Kamishirasawa said dryly. "Apart from her brief indisposition after the festival, her attendance at school has been exemplary. Which is still only three half-days a week, and hardly in a situation allowing close observation. Still..." He hesitated, but pushed on. "As a father, and a grandfather, I do not think Alice is unhappy. Perhaps a little shy, and not easy to draw out of her shell... but she seems glad enough be in your company."

Minerva turned an anxious glance towards the sleeping child. "I don't know where to begin, sometimes."

"We muddle through, somehow," Kamishirasawa said gravely. "As all parents do. I'll leave you to your research, Margatroid-san. Unless there is anything more you require?"

Minerva considered this. "Just an answer to a minor mystery."

"Oh?"

"Nothing all that significant. And yet... Kamishirasawa-san, is this the entirety of the Hieda collection? Were there any books that have been given away, or returned to prior owners?"

Kamishirasawa frowned in thought. "It is the entirety of the collection as I am aware of," he finally said. "What its disposition had been when the Child of Miare was... available... I cannot say."

"Hm. Well, thank you anyway, Kamishirasawa-san."

A ritual sacrifice to seal away a great evil. Minerva was fairly certain she had read an account of one specific incident, or at least an incident enshrined in myth and retellings. A tree that had turned into a youkai, requiring the sacrifice of some unfortunate soul. To act as a barrier against further depredations? Or simply to appease the hungering monster?

Whichever the case, the account of the incident had not been in any of the books Minerva had found thus far. She had not yet scoured the entire library, but Kamishirasawa had been conscientious in his role as caretaker of the Hieda collection, and arranged the books by broad subject categories. Youkai classifications here, cultural observations there, legends and myths two shelves to the right. Minerva's little pocket dictionary was becoming distinctly dog-eared by now.

And yet nothing. Only the most tantalizing of passing references remained in the other works, and the primary source had been quietly removed by some mysterious censor.

Or had Minerva imagined the entire thing, of trees and seals and sacrifices? If so, where had her mind come up with such a tale?

A youkai tree. This was certainly not the only instance Minerva was aware of, regarding trees being more than mere vegetation in mythology. Stories of dryads and nymphs living within the wood itself were common, and other trees in certain groves might have offerings placed upon them by passing travellers wishing for safety and fortune. The Glastonbury Thorn famously flowered twice a year, whether or not it had truly sprung from the staff of Joseph. And the Yule tree was a common sight around Christmas even in Britain, courtesy of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria of the House of Hanover.

Eden had a certain tree, too, quite well-known for its fruit.

Someone evidently believed this particular tree dangerous enough to seal away, however. Active malevolence, or simply unfortunate circumstance? How had this tree gained its youkai powers? Had it been a natural process, or was it the interference of an outside practitioner?

"... shall never vanquished be, until great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill shall come against him," Minerva muttered under her breath. She rose, careful not to dislodge any of the book piles around her. One more check on little Alice, still fast asleep. Then Minerva retreated into the library stacks, drifting past shelves of knowledge pressed and dried between pages.

A giant tree, girt with a holy rope, standing barren in the land of the dead. Recognizable in dimly-remembered myths, and yet no records could be found about it. Either nobody bothered to collate these myths, or someone already had, and the results had been spirited away.

Minerva ran a lazy hand across the uneven spines of the books on the shelves. The responsibility of the Child of Miare, passed down over the centuries from reincarnation to reincarnation, to catalogue and disseminate the descriptions of youkai and their countermeasures. Aya had performed her role, before Minerva had ever met her.

And then... what? Having completed the one charge laid onto a life, what other purpose could that life serve? Was that life free to seek its own destiny? Or would it be trapped by the rigid strictures of duty?

Minerva had found the manuscripts about the Child of Miare easily enough, once she had known what to look for. There were only a few, and none of them went into any great detail about the people to whom the title was given. Only names and dates, births and deaths and rebirths. Aya's entry was not yet written.

And how would history remember you, Hieda no Aya? Who chronicled the chroniclers?

Minerva's fingers caught on a jutting spine of a slim volume. She pulled it out on a whim, and she opened the book.

It took a moment longer for her to realize what was wrong.

There was, after all, little reason for the Hieda family to have a book such as this. Most of its collection were in Japanese, of varying age and incomprehensibility. A few ancient tomes were in Chinese, which made little difference for Englishwoman Minerva, or Portuguese, for older records dating from Japan's extended isolation from the world.

An Italian primer on the relation of the elements applied to magic was probably beyond the Hieda collection's scope.

Minerva snapped the book shut, replacing it hastily. The tiny basement of the village's library had somehow turned into a dizzyingly vast cavern of a room, lined on all sides with rows upon endless rows of books. The ceiling disappeared into inky blackness far above, absent any obvious lighting.

Curious. The basement library had been lit by several oil lamps set in the walls, providing ample light for reading. Here, there was no visible source of light, and yet there seemed to be a halo surrounding Minerva, illuminating the shelves around her.

She picked another book at random, which turned out to contain something unintelligible in an angular hand. Scribed, not printed, and yet the book seemed new enough, its pages crisp and clean.

Something on a page caught her eye: the eight trigrams of the I Ching, arranged in an octagonal shape. Clearly a design for some sort of ritual circle, containing whatever was within for some purpose. The symbol of the Yin and Yang was set into the centre. Providing balance and harmony to the pattern?

Minerva browsed through a few more pages. The rest of the chapter appeared to explain what each part of the diagram represented, and how it achieved its given purpose. Possibly useful, if Minerva could understand the book's language.

There was a larger drawing on a later page, superimposing the ritual circle design onto another picture, demonstrating and emphasizing how the two fit together. Something about the picture seemed familiar, although Minerva was hard-pressed to place it in her memory...

A quiet cough echoed through the silence. It was not a cough of politeness, intended to assert the presence of a throat to cough with, but the real reflexive action of someone just a touch under the weather at the moment, and obviously unaware or uncaring of whoever else might be listening.

Minerva slowly returned the book to the shelf, feeling very much like the trespasser she was. Most people, much less mages, would have a negative impression of strangers rifling through their books without permission. Minerva would have limited herself to a disapproving frown at the outrageous lack of manners, possibly with a snide remark or two if she was feeling especially annoyed. Other mages of her acquaintance would have responded with murderous violence.

Should she announce herself? Or should she skulk away in the hopes that the owner of this strange library had not noticed her presence? Even if she chose to skulk, where could she skulk to? It wasn't as though Minerva knew how she arrived here in the first place.

Announcement it was. Minerva cleared her throat meaningfully, and awaited a reaction.

It came quickly, in the form of a startled gasp. Minerva counted out seven heartbeats, before she became aware of the rustling of pages. And if she strained her listening to its utmost, she could just barely make out the susurration of a rapid whisper, speaking words of power that could not be discerned, yet clearly rushing to a conclusion...

Minerva woke abruptly, her sudden movement dislodging several books around her, which tumbled messily to the floor. The crackle of the fireplace was the only response she received.

She had fallen asleep in the midst of her research, it seemed. And had a peculiar dream, quite vivid, except for... what had happened, after she had startled that dream-person? She woke up, of course, but something had happened in the dream right at the very end, a maddening blank in her memory that was quickly fading away.

Nothing she could do about it now. With any luck, the dream had merely been a result of her nigh-endless work the past few days, and devoid of any mystical significance. Oneiromancy had always seemed too inconsistent for Minerva's purposes.

She was alone in the basement library. Alice was nowhere to be seen, although Minerva's coat now lay on the ground like the casually discarded blanket it was. Minerva toddled over to pick it up, shrugging it on as she ascended the steps up to ground level.

The rest of the building was deserted as well. A glance out the windows showed the sun still shining bright, already past the midpoint of its descent into the early winter evening.

"Alice?" Minerva tried. "Alice, are you there?"

Only the faint echoes of an empty building replied.

Minerva stepped outside, shivering in the chill, breath puffing out. She was unsurprised to note that the village appeared to be entirely lacking in any other living being.

It wasn't as though the villagers had suddenly disappeared in the midst of their daily chores. As Minerva passed through familiar streets and locales, she could see everything placed neatly as it should, behind boarded windows. No perishables had been left out in the open, and restaurant tables had been conscientiously wiped clean.

Minerva stopped in front of the Kirisame shop, its sign hanging serenely above the entrance as normal. She tried the door, which had been securely shut, just enough to discourage petty thieves. Minerva could probably break it down with sufficient force, whether magical or mundane, but she refrained from damaging the property just yet. The interior of the store, as glimpsed through cracks in the window boards, was dim and tidy. All the items had been taken off the shelves, which had then been dusted and polished.

The entire empty village gave the impression of having undergone a very well-ordered evacuation, spread over enough time for everyone to get their affairs into order before leaving.

"Good Lord Almighty," Minerva said peevishly to nothing in particular. "You certainly do not do things by halves, Miss Violet Hearn."

Rip van Winkle had gone to sleep one day and woken up twenty years in the future, and the entire colonial revolution had passed him by. Was this Gensokyo as it might be some years into the future? And whose future did this represent? Minerva had a vague idea of the sort of Gensokyo her efforts would someday produce. The human inhabitants by and large shared that vision, if differing in certain details. The youkai probably did not think that far beyond the present. Heaven only knew what Violet Hearn intended.

An abandoned village, lost to time. Kamishirasawa had talked to Minerva about something like this when Minerva first came to Japan, several lifetimes ago. Youkai and other fairy tales had no place in the new order of reason and progress, and the younger generation migrated to the cities to seek their fortune. Memories of the haunted past remained that, eventually fading into unreliability and rationalization. Don't take the old man seriously; he's just confused. Don't listen to the country bumpkin; he's just superstitious.

Don't worry about the magician; she's just a charlatan and a fraud.

Minerva stalked back towards the schoolhouse, her mood growing as grey as the skies above. Clearly someone had laid this illusion out in front of her to make some arcane point. A closer look at the library's fireplaces confirmed this suspicion: the fires burned merrily with ample fuel, which would have been unlikely had Minerva truly slept for several years while Gensokyo vanished around her.

She stamped down the stairs with just a little more force than was strictly necessary, slid open the door, and pursed her lips in irritation as she beheld the sight of the eclectic, mismatched collection of the Hieda family replaced by what appeared to be identical rows of leather-bound volumes filling the shelves.

Minerva pulled down the closest volume. It was unmarked and untitled.

She opened the book.

Minerva woke abruptly, her sudden movement dislodging several books around her, which tumbled messily to the floor.

She was buried under more of the same, albeit not very deeply. Warily poking her head up from her fallen position on the floor, she observed the empty shelves beside her, from whence these books had dropped.

She was back in the mysterious cavern of a library... unless she had never left at all. The spellcasting owner of the library seemed to have left her alone, after whatever it was that had sent her through that dream of the empty village. Perhaps she presented so little threat that the owner had just left her there to muddle her way back out. Or maybe the owner had been distracted by something else, and was taking care of more important matters, now they knew the intruder had been temporarily neutralized.

Minerva pulled the nearest book towards her. Greek, which had never been one of her stronger languages; it appeared to be yet another treatise on the Philosopher's Stone. Not particularly useful for her efforts immediate or long-term.

Sitting up, she made a well-meaning effort to replace the fallen books on the shelves. She took the opportunity to glance through each one as they passed her hands. More Greek, another unknown language, something familiar-looking that might have come from India, Chinese, unknown, a German lineage of Danish kings, Chinese again, a few more unknowns...

English. Minerva took her time with this one, if only for the novelty; most esoteric texts tried for high-minded Latin or popular German or French. English was generally not a useful market until quite recently, historically speaking. In addition, the Age of Reason had caused most authors of mystical works, be they fair or fraud, to retreat into conservatism and the bastions of old, including languages dead and moribund.

Unfortunately, the author of this particular book was more concerned with tiresomely apocalyptic imagery than with readability. All Minerva was able to divine from the book was that making pacts with devils was not advisable.

Much too late for that, of course.

Minerva continued her desultory task, almost missing the most interesting book of the lot. This one was marked only by a strange sigil on its cover, and try as she might, Minerva could not quite recall where she had seen it before. Some fleeting glimpse, when her attention had been occupied by a hundred more important concerns. Something that brought to mind an association with the most peculiar smells: flowers, and rain.

She opened the book.

Minerva woke abruptly, her sudden movement dislodging several books around her, which tumbled messily to the floor.

She had nodded off for just the briefest of moments, possibly as a result of overwork. She fought through the brief moment of disorientation: what had she been doing moments before?

Power. That was it. Researching ways to achieve enough power to do... something. It would all come back to her in time.

She was surrounded with loose-leaf notes and papers more than properly bound books, as had increasingly been the case since she arrived at the Hieda mansion. She had thrown herself into her research, keeping the plan she had formulated in the back of her mind, while collecting data to refine and adjust the scheme as required. So busy had she been, in fact, that she had quite neglected her puppets and puppet-plays ever since she arrived in Gensokyo.

Alice's little doll had reminded her of that. Seiji had made it for her, or helped her make it, or whatever they had been doing at his workshop. Seiji's skills seemed internationally diverse; it was one reason Minerva had entrusted him with various aspects of her projects, after all.

Alice's little doll, moving and acting and dancing without strings. Could a doll remove itself far enough from its string-puller, to fool both puppeteer and puppet?

Someone entered the room then, and some small part of Minerva that did not quite belong here in this place and time began to mutter uncomfortably. She did not turn around, but reached instead for a book within handy distance, something dull and plodding about Aristotle.

"Please don't step on anything that looks important," Minerva said, while that small part of her refused to look or even think about the newcomer, having filled to the brim with inexplicable guilt.

She opened the book.

Minerva woke abruptly, her sudden movement dislodging several books around her, which tumbled messily to the floor.

The table lamp was still burning steadily, throwing off a warm glow on this cool spring evening in the countryside. Much more agreeable than the undoubtedly wet weather back in London.

The innkeeper had thrown a true feast, particularly with good ingredients in ready supply thanks to the country fair. Minerva had eaten too much and drank too much, distracted as she had been by the desire to return to her work.

Who was this mysterious Violet Hearn? She had not been present at the evening's celebration, or Minerva would have buttonholed her to demand further explanation. That design for the magical power source was breathtakingly elegant, in a way only centuries of refinement and study could achieve. Violet had clearly taken it from some long-standing mystical tradition, and Minerva was determined to find out which.

Come to think of it, what had Violet been up to, when she had been left alone in Minerva's room? She had clearly been building up to something, in her stilted, scripted conversation. The description of Minerva as one of the greatest magicians in the world was obviously false flattery, but there was something else beneath the surface, slippery and dark.

Well, either Violet Hearn would turn up again tomorrow, in which case Minerva could seek clarifications then, or she had already left the village, in which case the matter was forever closed. Brooding on it was of little purpose now.

Minerva pulled together her latest notes, checking them once more for errors before transcription into the leatherbound tome that was her life's work. Her life as a magician, in any case. Everything seemed to be in order, and she reached for a pen and the textbook-in-progress.

She opened the book.

Minerva woke abruptly, her sudden movement dislodging several books around her, which tumbled messily to the floor.

"My word," her host said with some amusement. "I hadn't expected my attempts at explaining magical theory to have such a soporific effect."

Minerva glared at the shadowed figure seated at the head of the long table. It was typical of him to hide himself in shadow, entirely to unnerve visitors. He had invited her into his home as a peer and equal; shouldn't he act more appropriately to his role?

"When you ply your guests with wine before burying them with words, you may wish to consider the consequences," she said. She bent over in her seat, picking up the fallen books. "This system of yours. Why cards?"

Her host shrugged. "Cards are more compact. I suppose I could use tokens and coins, but the risks of confusion and misplaced objects seems rather greater. With these cards and their key, it all becomes simplified. Why, even a child could use it!"

"Never entrust any arrangement to simplicity," Minerva warned. "Complexities have a way of spawning."

"Are you planning an excursion to some land where common sense does not hold sway, perchance?" That was one of the more infuriating habits he had; Minerva could never tell if he was speaking with sincerity or sarcasm. Everything was delivered with calm, smug certainty. "I'll take your advice under consideration. Perhaps I could arrange for a guide."

Minerva suppressed a shiver. She had never seen anyone else in this particular house, which did not assuage the ever-present sensation of eyes, not quite human, watching from the darkness. "This card system seems different from the one certain other parties have been promoting."

"Yes, I know whom you speak of. You were close acquaintances at one time, were you not?"

"It was a mere childish infatuation," Minerva snapped. And then, unbidden by her brain, her mouth added: "Unrequited."

"Ah. My condolences," her host said, in a way that made Minerva wish she could tap him none too gently upon the head with his own staff. "In any case, I find the conceptual sun and moon to be sufficiently robust bases to subordinate each element to, should you wish further control of the spirits in the cards." He smiled. "Although one must not underestimate the power held by the stars, of course."

"No," Minerva said, her mouth suddenly dry. "No spirits. No contracts. Never again."

"As you wish." Brightly: "I do recommend the green book by your right hand, by the way. The wisdom of the Orient is by no means the lesser to European wizardry. You might find the examples within instructive, if not entertaining."

Minerva sighed, reaching for the item in question. There was some sort of circular symbol embossed on the cover. White and black, like two commas fitted together. Or fishes, eating each other's tails.

She opened the book.

Minerva woke abruptly, her sudden movement dislodging several books around her, which tumbled messily to the floor.

The boy who had startled her awake gave her a worried grin that nevertheless managed to add to his charm. "You all right?" he said.

"Perfectly fine," Minerva said, with adolescent irritability. "What's the matter now?"

"Well," he said, drawing out the syllable. "I was thinking, you've always been a bit of a reader, aren't you? And you've got plenty of talent. So..."

"Get to the point, Springfield."

"I'm thinking of putting on a little demonstration," he blurted out. "But, er, I'm a little wobbly on the circles, so I was hoping you could give me a pointer or two. You know, just to set me on the right direction."

Of course. He was always surrounded by other girls, with his natural good looks and rogueish charisma. And yet he always tried to impress them, and never her.

Never, ever her.

"I'll think about it, I'm sure," Minerva said, meaning nothing of the sort. She glanced around the library; nobody else seemed to have overheard their little conversation. A normal library, at a normal school. Only a tiny, select group of students had... other skills.

It had seemed like an answer to undirected prayers, when Minerva had finally found others around her age who knew about the other world, apart from the one everyone else saw. She liked being special, but being special in a way she couldn't tell anybody about had been annoyingly, unnervingly lonely.

"Aw, come on," the boy wheedled. "You're smart, you're a good friend, and you're the only one I can trust. Please?"

Damn him, for always managing to get his way, even when Minerva longed to pound some sense into that thick skull of his. "Oh, all right. But just this once, you understand?"

"Thanks," he said, his grin growing wider. "Maybe you can figure out something I've been wondering about. Contracts and stuff."

Minerva held the book she had been reading up between them, a shield against further blandishments. "Get away from me, you bloody Welshman."

After he departed with a jaunty wave, Minerva shut her eyes for a moment, controlling her breathing. When she felt sufficiently confident that the blush on her cheeks had receded, she firmly pushed all thoughts of the boy out of her mind, and returned to the book.

It was a good one, detailing the theories of human flight as imagined by Leonardo da Vinci and his amazing designs. Careful explanations and footnotes detailed why none of these contraptions would ever work, while grudgingly allowing that with some unspecified changes, there might be a chance that one or two machines might show some promise.

What a marvelous world it would be if everyone could fly. Minerva laid a hand upon the book's cover for a moment, as she envisioned herself soaring through the skies. It didn't matter, she decided, if her flight was supported by machinery or magic.

She opened the book.

Minerva woke abruptly, her sudden movement dislodging several books around her, which tumbled messily to the floor.

She was wearing a light blue dress, white stockings, and curls in her hair. She was ten years old.

Minerva was not her name.

"Maggie!"

She was on the front porch, where the lazy summer heat of late August had lulled her into a nap while reading. The house was the family's country one, near Alton, East Hampshire.

The year was 1867. In less than an hour, she would meet the Adams girl. A few more hours after that, she would see something that would change her life forever.

But for now, she simply waved in acknowledgement at her little sister calling to her. She picked up one of the books that had fallen, a pressed flower she used as a bookmark in her other hand.

She opened the book.

Minerva woke abruptly, her sudden movement startling Alice, who fell back with a surprised squeak.

"Alice?" she mumbled groggily. "I'm all right. Just a little more tired than I thought, evidently."

The basement library containing the Hieda collection was just as it should be. Books on the shelves and on the floor, fireplace burning merrily, and the faint treads of other visitors on the ground floor above. Minerva surreptitiously pinched the back of her hand, and stared accusingly at the resulting welt, which hurt quite a bit.

She extracted her silver pocket-watch. Barely an hour had passed since Kamishirasawa had checked in on her.

Alice, meanwhile, was frowning disapprovingly, exactly as Kamishirasawa had, at the mess of books around Minerva.

"I'll clear it all up soon enough," Minerva sighed. "Give me a moment to recover... what a bizarre dream." A thoughtful pause. "Alice, would you happen to have a piece of paper and a pencil with you?"

Alice provided the requested items, eyes puzzled. The paper had seen some use as Alice's practice board for her artistic interpretations on the theme of cat; Minerva turned it over to the blank other side.

She sketched a map of Gensokyo, as she remembered seeing it from the air in the balloon. Less concerned with routes and symbols, and more an impression of what Gensokyo had seemed like, through her eyes.

On top of this, she pencilled in the circle octagon design of the eight I Ching trigrams. The patterns fit perfectly, matching the picture she saw in her dream.

If it had been a dream.

Alice tilted her head curiously at the picture. "Map?" she said uncertainly.

"A plan," Minerva replied. "Let's hope it works."

[linkhyrule5]

Who was that?

Yukari's spiriting away? Or... no, it's linked to books. Alternate timelines... and was that a Scarlet? Obvious Knowledge is obvious, of course. (Oh Patchy )
And huh. A spell circle that massive? Is it the source or just the border?

[Iced Fairy]

Spoiler:

Clow Reed, eh?  Meddlesome boy isn't he?

  An interesting chapter.  I liked how you broke the pattern at the end, it was a good technique.

[Dizzy H. "Muffin" Muffin]

My first thought: "She's stumbled through L-Space into the Scarlet library!"

... and a while after that: "IT KEEPS HAPPENING!"

Man, someday we're going to have to find out what is up with these dreams. @.@

[linkhyrule5]

I had the same thought, at first, but there was no orangutang around...

[nolrai2]

I wounder how Rinosuske got Patchy's notes. Unless he independently hit on that..or studied the barrier perhaps.

[Yayifications]

It had been several months and an eternity ago since Minerva had last visited the lake. Like the rest of Gensokyo, very little had changed since then.

Most of the necessary equipment for the expedition had been rented back from the Kirisame store, at much-reduced prices. Maria had seemed willing to act as a guardian in trust for the various alchemical apparatus, partly on the basis that having anyone else express an interest in those particular items was growing ever more unlikely.

"To be honest, all of these would be gathering dust in the back rooms if you hadn't asked for them," Maria said, while Minerva fretted over her potential impact on the Kirisame business. "It's good to see things put to proper use. There are stories, you know, about neglected items returning to take vengeance on those who ignored them."

"Oh?" Minerva said weakly.

"Well, they're just stories," Maria said dismissively. "For all of Gensokyo's youkai, I don't think I've ever heard of one of those pop up yet. Good luck on your experiments, Margatroid-san. If there's anything else you need, just let me know."

Stories, Minerva pondered, as she trundled her little wagon to the spot she had conducted her orihalconic Experiment so long ago. Everyone told stories; it was a peculiarity of human nature, over the entire world. Every land touched by the British Empire had stories of its own, and these stories were brought back to be analyzed by the professors and dons at great centres of learning, where they were dissected, numbered, and filed away into neat cubby-holes. Minerva wondered if there were copies of the Gensokyo Chronicles even now languishing in the depths of Oxford or Cambridge, several editions out of date.

Probably not; Japan's isolation through the centuries had seen to that, and the only representative of Britain now in Gensokyo, where the Gensokyo Chronicles were largely distributed, was presently stamping about, trying to return some life and heat into her extremities in the face of this particularly frigid morning.

The mist around the lake had largely cleared up, save for a stubborn patch about halfway to the far shore, obscuring all beyond it. Minerva's curiosity would have to be sated another time, it seemed.

Minerva set the wagon down, taking a moment to re-tie her hair, inconveniently coming loose from the slim ribbon she wore. Heavy work lay ahead, and her appearance was among the least of her concerns, but her long hair was always more suited for theatre than toil.

She unslung the latest additions to her repertoire of tools. The gardening spade was very nearly brand new; it had originally been an ancient, rusted thing found in the back of some farmer's tool shed, but Minerva had sent it to the village smithy to be reworked, and they had included a brand new wooden handle for free. Minerva detected the intervention of Seiji in this, along with his mysterious network of fellow craftsmen.

She tapped the ground speculatively with her spade. She had not expected to return here during winter, which made her task rather more complicated. Where had it been? The alchemical apparatus had been set up over there. The wagon at that time had been... here. Or was it over there? How many paces had it taken to go from one to the other...

"What are you doing?"

Minerva straightened, hiding a smile. "Merely searching for a small trifle I misplaced a fair while ago," she said. "Well met once again, little lady."

"How long ago? Wait, you mean you lost it back when you were here the last time? When was it..."

"Summer," Minerva supplied, looking around. The tiny clearing held no sign of the fairy's presence. "Where might you be, if I may ask?"

"You lost something all the way back in summer, and didn't bother to go look for it until now? Must be something you don't miss all that much," the fairy decided. Her voice was coming from somewhere in the darkness of the forest surrounding the lake shore, but Minerva could not pinpoint an exact direction.

"I didn't know I needed it until very recently," Minerva said. "Are you hiding from me, by any chance?"

"Of course I am," the fairy's disembodied voice said. "That's the entire point of hide- and-seek. Didn't you know that?"

The fairies of legend were famed for being able to conceal themselves from prying human eyes, largely so that their absence from organized searches in this age of reason was excusable. Of course, this was based on European mythology, and little had been written about the ability of the fae to find each other.

"Am I designated the searcher in this game, then?" Minerva said uncertainly. She could always brush off this unexpected responsibility, but she would rather not offend the youkai inhabitants of this land quite so cavalierly, particularly when they could see her, but not the reverse.

"We've already got one of those," the fairy said. "You're a bit big to go hide, and you're a human, so you shouldn't be in this game anyway."

"We?"

"The rest of us," the fairy said, enunciating clearly for the slow of thought. "You're really not very smart, are you? Good thing I'm so willing to help."

"I am most grateful," Minerva said, keeping a straight face. "Aren't you worried that you'll be found out? Especially if you continue to speak to me."

"Impossible," the fairy declared. "I'm the best at hide-and-seek, so there's no way anyone else can find me!"

Far be it for Minerva to press the matter, and lose a conversation partner. It helped to take her mind off the cold, at least. Come to think of it, the fairy had displayed a talent for manipulating cold and ice, during their previous meeting. Would the frosts of winter complement her power? Probably not something to test without adequate precautions.

"When I was here last," Minerva said, "I was conducting an experiment." Which the fairy had interfered in, but that was another matter. "I regret to say that I was a little careless, and I might have spilled some of it around here. Just a tiny bit," she said quickly, reassuringly. "I was hoping that you might be able to remind me where it happened?"

"Experiment... oh, that thing with the fire?"

"That thing with the fire," Minerva confirmed.

"And you spilled it... oh, ew! You're talking about that thing in the ground!" The fairy made various noises to demonstrate her disgust. "Take it away, take it away!"

"I'd be delighted to, if I knew where to find it," Minerva said patiently.

"It's right there! Can't you... fine, look, go step to your left. No, your other left. That one, yes. Keep going... no, too far, go back. Go to the front a bit. Front, I said! Wow, it's really hard to deal with someone so stupid. Come on, keep going... too far, back, back!"

Minerva bore the directions with fortitude, as she made a mental note on fairies apparently not being able to tell the difference between left and right. Having reached her destination, she drove the spade in twice, forming a clear cross shape to mark the spot.

"I take it you've had some small interaction with the residue I inadvertently left here?" she said conversationally, as she rummaged through the wagon.

"What, you left it in our territory, didn't you?" The unseen fairy's tone gave the distinct impression of a shudder. "But it's icky and yucky, so we left it alone. You can take it back if you want."

The accidental spill had been Minerva's Experiment in creating Gensokyo's equivalent of orihalcum, or something very much like it. Violet Hearn had not expressed any discomfort in handling a bulk sample of the results, but the negative reaction of the fairies implied something more. Minerva had expected the not-orihalcum to absorb certain energies from the surrounding environment as it formed; could this be affecting the fairies?

She returned to the marked location with a small pot, which she carefully opened, and sprinkled its contents liberally around the area.

"What's that?" the fairy asked, curious but unconcerned.

"Salt," Minerva said, returning the pot to the wagon. It would take a moment for the salt to soften the ground sufficiently to ease digging; in the meantime, Minerva set about arranging her alchemical apparatus as she had the last time.

"Salt? Are you going to cook the ground? Ew, humans are weird."

"It's a ritual," Minerva sighed. Which was technically true, if not precisely magical. The ground there was already barren thanks to the residue of crimson metal, so the salt would not cause very much more environmental damage. The fairy didn't seem to be too put out by it, anyhow.

The instruments of alchemy set up this time were rather different. A large clay beaker, filled with water from the lake, took pride of place, and instead of alembics and pipes for distillation and purification, Minerva set out a piece of tablecloth with complex patterns embroidered upon it. The beaker sat in the center of the design, atop a miniature oil flame; Minerva kept the fire low, out of respect for the fairy of cold and ice. She did not require intense heat for this procedure, but merely enough warmth to counter this winter morning.

Around the beaker, at positions indicated by the ritual circle design, she laid out several sealed ampoules, each containing samples of certain materials. Four arranged in the cardinal directions close to the beaker, followed by five more in a pentagram further out.

Not the first choice of methods Minerva would have used, but she was running out of time.

"Is this a common activity for fairies?" Minerva said, picking up the spade once more. She would likely be here for some time, and the fairy seemed to show no signs of leaving. "Hide-and-seek, I mean. Playing games?"

"Yeah! And I'm the best at everything there is, too! Hide-and-seek, tests of courage, eating bitter or spicy stuff, playing pranks on humans, flying really high and really fast... I'm the strongest!"

"Pranks on humans?" Not much of a surprise, considering Minerva had lost her sandwiches to fairies the last time she was here, but she had assumed the targets to be lone humans like herself in the wilds.

"It's really fun," the fairy assured her. "You should try it sometime. Just this winter, we've already sneaked into all sorts of places and taken all sorts of things. Seven socks, four hairpins, three chicken eggs, two wool gloves..."

"And a partridge in a pear tree?" Minerva said, fascinated.

"What's a partridge?"

"Never mind." Minerva wondered if it would be her civic duty to report this clear confession of larceny, or if she should magnanimously forgive the fairies on behalf of the human residents of Gensokyo, in the spirit of the season. "Do you do this all the time, or are there different enterprises for different times of the year?" Criminal or otherwise.

"Oh, different stuff. I mean, it's only really when it gets cold and snowy that I can try to freeze the lake."

Minerva blinked, pausing in her digging. "Freeze... the lake? The whole lake?"

"Yeah," the fairy confirmed. Not a boast, as much as a statement of fact.

"I see." Minerva drastically revised her estimate of the fairy's prowess. If the fairy could attempt to turn the waters of the entire lake into ice, or even just the surface of it, she may be very powerful, very confident, or very tenacious. All three could be problematic traits, to varying degrees. That patch of mist obscuring the lake might even be hiding a sizeable iceberg.

"What do you humans do?" the fairy wondered. "All I ever see are humans digging and putting things in the ground and taking things out of the ground and yelling at each other and chasing fairies away. Work, work, work, all the time. Don't humans ever play?"

"Children do," Minerva said, settling into an easy rhythm of digging. "Grown-ups like myself seem to have lost the knack of it, sometime in our lives." She brightened. "There are always celebrations, of course. That's when we can pretend we're doing something bigger and more important than simply playing around."

"Celebrations are nice," the fairy said wistfully. "Festivals are nice. Always plenty of food to steal, and nobody cares enough to chase us away. Unless we want them to. It's really funny to see humans running around, all out of breath. Their faces get all red."

"Yes, well, quite." Not any of her business, Minerva reminded herself. Besides, if her plan to solve the youkai problem was successful, all those little annoyances and pranks would simply go away.

Including the boisterous, garrulous, friendly little fairy she was talking to right now.

Minerva's spade hit a strange, hard lump, rather deeper than she had estimated. She bent down to pick it up; it was an irregular blob of something black and calcified, perhaps eight to ten inches across.

Minerva brushed the dirt off it as best she could, and plopped the whole thing into the beaker, which sloshed over. Into this, she introduced three carefully-measured powdered substances from three separate vials. She covered the resultant murky concoction with another piece of cloth, this time a thick, coarse flap of sackcloth.

It was the work of a few moments to spread out a picnic blanket across the frosty ground, some short distance from the unfilled hole. Minerva sat in the middle of the picnic blanket, and pondered the weight of one fairy against the lives of countless generations of humans in Gensokyo. She didn't even like the fairy, as such; the fairy was too ill-behaved and arrogant, in her own childish way.

Which was certainly not a sin that Minerva could cast the first stone at, and hardly deserving of a fate uncomfortably close to extinction.

"Have you heard about Christmas?" she found herself asking.

"Ku-ri- what?"

"Christmas. It's a celebration, a festival from where I come from. It's new to Gensokyo, I would think; at least, I haven't seen anyone celebrate it yet." Nor would Minerva expect to. The Japanese government prior to this one had been ruthless in its persecution of Christianity, and change was still in progress. Not that Minerva had any love for the Church, nor the Church for witches like herself.

What was she trying to do, anyway? Explaining the birth of Christ to Japanese fairies in a land haunted by youkai. As a form of spontaneous repentance, it left rather a lot to be desired, both in intent and effectiveness.

But Christmas was not associated with churches and sermons in her memories. Christmas was a time with family, when the house was alight with noise and voices and laughter and tears and the sizzling anticipation of feasts and food and, in the secret hours of the night, the soft footfalls of someone delivering mysterious wrapped boxes under a Yule tree...

"You take a tree, and decorate it with lights and sparkles," she said aloud. "Fir, or pine; I'm not sure if any such trees are in Gensokyo. Maybe we can make do with others; it has to be green, even in winter."

"Why?" the fairy asked.

"To make it pretty," Minerva responded instantly. "Everyone likes a decorated tree. It's quite a big job, though, so most of us just do it once a year, when we don't have other things to do. Because of the snow, you see. Nothing wrong with snow, of course," she added hastily, "but it makes it hard to perform all sorts of tasks outdoors. So we humans set up a big green tree inside our houses, and string coloured balls and sugar ornaments and lighted candles all around it."

Minerva fancied the fairy's brief silence to contain much busy thinking. "So," the fairy said slowly, "Christmas is a festival where you decorate trees?"

"That's one part of it," Minerva said. "There's also food. Lots of food. Goose is traditional, but really the only criteria is that there needs to be plenty of it."

"Ooh," the fairy said appreciatively. "How long does this festival last?"

Minerva considered this. How should she explain the significance of the twenty-fifth of December? Did fairies have calendars, upon which they marked off the dates? "Usually just around the winter solstice, when the day is shortest and the night is longest," she said. "Just for a day or two. Well, the night before, the day itself, and the next day. Each day means different things, but it's all related." And each day might mean different things to different people, but Minerva did not quite feel up to explaining Boxing Day and the Feast of Saint Stephen to the fairy at the moment.

"And it's like that all the time? Lots to eat and drink and play with?"

"In a manner of speaking. However," Minerva said sharply, holding up a warning finger, "it's not all for one person. It's for the whole family, and all your friends, as many as are willing to come. The idea isn't to take everything for yourself; it's to share with everyone."

"Oh," the fairy said, sounding disappointed. "That doesn't sound like much fun. Why would anyone do that?"

Why indeed? "It's something humans do. Well, no, I suppose that's not quite correct; it's something humans can do, if we so choose. Not everyone does, but... well, there's a story."

"Is it going to be a very long one?"

Minerva choked down a chuckle at the fairy's plaintive tone. "I'll summarize it. A man who doesn't understand why he should care about others is visited by a series of ghosts." The images conjured up by Dickens leapt forward, fresh in her mind. "Through this, he learns that should he continue to be miserly and selfish, he will end up dying alone and friendless. So that's a reason to be nice to others, whether during Christmas or other times."

So who is your Marley, Minerva Margatroid? And what message will they bring, to a foreign witch in a foreign land? What chains still bind you down, that you must break free?

"Is that why humans are supposed to share stuff with each other? So they can have lots of friends?"

Minerva held out her hands, palms up, weighing ideas. "Cause and effect, little lady. We practice charity and benevolence because we wish the recipients to be our friends. And because the recipients are our friends and loved ones, we practice charity and benevolence."

The fairy mumbled inaudibly for a while, trying to work this out in a way that she understood. "Ah, that's all too complicated!" she finally yelled. "Everything you've said is weird. Why should I even listen to you?"

Minerva stood; the alchemical process should have completed by now. "Well, you've not been found and caught by the seeker in your game. I hoped we could have a pleasant chat, while we both waited for our respective results."

"They're all probably still looking around that flower field," the fairy said. "The one with those big flowers in summer, that turn to look at the sun."

Was there a sunflower field in Gensokyo? Minerva vaguely recalled a mention of some such, during one of Miho's extended introductions into Gensokyo's more unusual geographical and botanical features. "Isn't that quite a distance away?" On the other side of the mountain, at that.

"Of course," the fairy said. "That's why they won't find me here, see?"

Presumably the fairies had not laid down the boundaries of this game, and the one conversing with Minerva now was contravening the spirit of hide-and-seek, if not the letter. "In any case, you might wish to consider this: the very best of us consider all others, even utter strangers, to be our friends, to share our own bounties with. No matter who they are."

"The best..." The fairy sounded thoughtful.

"Look, you can try an experiment of your own. Is there anyone you're particularly close to? Friends among the other fairies?"

"I'm the strongest!" the fairy proclaimed once again. "Everyone follows me!" Her confidence faltered. "Well, they should, anyway. Most of the time."

"Hm, that's not quite what I meant. Are there any of your fellow fairies whom you feel particularly happy to be with? Someone you may share your thoughts with, or someone you like playing together with more than others?"

The fairy fell mostly silent, interrupted only by the occasional sounds of intense cogitation. Minerva took this opportunity to collect the beaker and set it aside. As for the rest, ampoules and all, she wrapped haphazardly within the tablecloth.

"Hey, human?"

"Yes?"

"How do you make friends?"

Minerva took this obvious change in topic with a smile. "That's a very good question. It's different for everyone, but I find that one of the more effective methods is simply to approach them, and ask them if they are willing to be your friend. It works surprisingly well." For a start, anyhow. "Was there someone you had in mind?"

"She has pretty wings," the fairy said. "Maybe I'll go talk to her later!"

Wings... "Might I ask you a question in return, little lady? I'll make it worth your while."

"Of course! Ask me anything!"

"How do you fly?"

"Huh? You just fly. Can't you fly?"

"I tried, for a bit. It wasn't very successful." Minerva pondered. "What about gravity? That force which keeps us rooted to the ground, I mean. When you throw a rock up, gravity makes sure it comes down."

The fairy laughed. "I don't know what that 'gravity' thing is, but who cares about it? Who cares about rocks? You're cleverer than a rock, aren't you?"

"I do hope so," Minerva said dryly. "Well-answered, my fairy friend. As promised..."

She circled the clearing, close to the edge of the forest, searching for a patch of clear ground, or a small flat rock she could use as a plateau. Finding one, she pulled the yellow ribbon out of her hair, and carefully folded it, laying it on the rock.

"It's a Christmas present," Minerva said. "A little early, but it'll do." Japanese fairies appeared not to have the complex system of bartered favours and gifts that stories of European fae warned of. "You may keep it for yourself, but I would propose an extension of the experiment: try offering it as a Christmas present of your own, to that fairy friend of yours with the pretty wings."

"What? Why?"

"That's why it's an experiment. Wouldn't you like to find out for yourself?"

"Hm." The fairy sounded skeptical, but at least she did not dismiss the idea out of hand.

Minerva walked back to the covered clay beaker, and removed the sackcloth. The water had turned inky-black; Minerva unceremoniously upended the entire container, pouring out its contents onto the ground, heedless of the further pollution she was causing to the lake. Perhaps some time in the future, when she had completed her task, she might return here to make amends.

For the lake, and for the fairies.

The black water flowed in rivulets towards the lake, staining it with cloudy tendrils. A small jet-black lump of something solid fell out of the beaker, and it was this that Minerva pounced upon.

The lump crumbled apart easily. Minerva exhaled in relief when she saw the final result, glittering in the palm of her hand. She took out a clean handkerchief, and wrapped it safely within.

Time to clean up the rest of the ritual equipment. Minerva took the bundle containing the ampoules of precious magical extracts, now drained of any power. She dropped it into the hole she had dug earlier, and stood back.

"You may want to avert your eyes, little lady," she warned. The last of the ingredients she had prepared went into the hole: first a significant sprinkling of thin, needle-like silvery sticks, and finally a tiny, fragile porcelain container filled with a pungent liquid.

The flames shot up out of the hole, red and green and white, incinerating everything within. Minerva, her own eyes shut and face protected by her scarf, felt the pressure of intense heat almost pushing her back; she did not open her eyes again until the fire died down.

Only ashes remained in the hole, its sides blasted and melted.

There had been no reaction or outcry from the fairy to this pyrotechnical display. Minerva glanced at the rock she had left her ribbon on, and saw that it had disappeared.

No telling whether the fairy had taken her advice about Christmas cheer seriously. But it was a start.

Minerva filled the hole back in, tamping the earth down firmly. Having accomplished what she intended, the remainder of the equipment was returned to the wagon: oil burner, beaker, portable table, picnic blanket, spade, and all. Minerva was sweating from the exertion even in the cold, but declined to wash up using the lake water, even though it now appeared as pristine as it had been before her arrival.

She took the handkerchief out, and beheld the result of her alchemy. A tiny, perfect sphere of metal, no bigger than the tip of her little finger, tinged with the slightest hint of crimson. Unblemished, and unblemishable, it reflected the world around it in its mirrored surface. If one were to keep very still and be very quiet, one might even be able to detect the very, very faint humming of power.

Power enough, perhaps, to be cleverer than a rock.

The sphere went back in the handkerchief, which went back into her pocket. Minerva took the handles of the wagon once more.

"Seven years dead," she muttered to herself. "And travelling all the time."

[Esifex]

How appropriately Christmas-y!

Man, I wish I could catch all the references going back and forth. As it is, I know there are some significant things, but I don't know why they're significant.

Waiting with bated breath for the next update, wheee~

[Iced Fairy]

Have I told you I love your Cirno.  Because I do.  Another great chapter, and fitting for today.

[AnonymousPondScum]

Yayifications is the best Christmas gift AND gift-giver ever. :3

Merry Christmas, good sir!

[Dizzy H. "Muffin" Muffin]

I didn't think Charles Dickens's "A Christmas Carol" was that obscure ...

But yes. Now I want to know what this experiment will be about ...

[Yayifications]

It was a chilly winter morning sometime in late December when Minerva finally reclaimed possession of her grimoire.

Seiji laid it onto the teahouse table with a thump, settling in on the bench opposite Minerva. "Pretty cold weather, isn't it?" he said, signalling for hot tea to be brought forth. "One of the colder winters we've had recently, I reckon. Of course, this is still nothing compared to that winter a few years back. Icicles the size of a man."

Minerva managed to thaw herself out enough to reach for the book. Whoever had worked on it had done a fine job; the binding had been reinforced, and some sort of tastefully understated copper design had been embedded into the covers, following the natural creases of the leather, yet elegant and symmetrical.

Dark red bands of flexible leather, of rather better quality than the covers, bound the book shut. A large, ornately-decorated lock sat in the center where the bands crossed, and a brass key hung next to it, tied loosely to the bands by a thin steel jewellery chain.

"You've certainly exceeded my specifications," she said, fumbling at the key. "I expected something a great deal simpler, especially at the quoted price."

"Well, anything worth doing," Seiji said vaguely. "Have you been waiting long?"

"No," Minerva said, indicating her own cup of tea, still steaming. "I only arrived here a few minutes ago myself."

"Alice isn't with you today?"

"It's not a school day. Alice woke up this morning, took one look out the window, and burrowed back into bed."

"Smart girl."

"I left breakfast and lunch for her back at the house, anyhow. If it weren't for this book, and a few other matters, I'd probably follow her example. Did you peek?"

"What?"

"It's a simple question, Seiji-san. Did you peek inside the book?"

Seiji examined his tea guiltily, as Minerva finally managed to fit key into keyhole. "Um, I know you told me not to look, but, er, you know..."

"Oh, stop worrying about it so much," Minerva said with a chuckle. "I trust your discretion, and if you've already seen the contents of the grimoire, you'll know it's not something that the layman will easily understand. My concern was more for your safety than my secrecy, and since you're still alive, in one piece, and more or less the same species as when you began, we seem to have had the good fortune to avoid any mishaps."

Seiji looked faintly queasy. "Is that book really so dangerous?"

"Only in the same way certain tools can be dangerous. You would not leave a child or an untrained novice unsupervised with your woodworking tools, for example. Magic is much the same way, although the hazards to navigation may be relatively unusual." Minerva carefully leafed through the book. "Putting aside the more mundane risks inherent in careless handling of dangerous materials, most magical accidents occur due to a misfire, rather than outright failure of a given spell. The most dangerous and spectacular examples are usually a result of the spell being almost correct, but missing some crucial piece. The odds of casual experimentation from ignorance producing such a result is negligible."

"Oh." Seiji refrained from expressing further opinions on the dangers of too much knowledge. "What language is it written in? I mean, some parts looked like English, but there are all those symbols I've never seen before." He spread his hands. "I didn't want to ask Maria-san about it, because, well."

"It is... hm. I am not certain of the Japanese term. It is a vocabulary common among our rather specialized society. I do not know the origins of it, but it acts as a means to identify fellow practitioners, as well as assist in our correspondence."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"The general idea is for a way to express certain concepts clearly and unambiguously. For example, 'circle'." Minerva used the English word for that last. "Just taking magical rituals into account, there are several definitions. We have the idea of a round shape, as shared with the layman. We also use it to mean a certain sort of gathering of magicians, called together for a stated purpose. And a circle may also mean the markings enclosing an area in which a ritual is being performed. In this way, we may have circles that are not circles."

"Like a... a square circle," Seiji said, manfully attempting to follow Minerva's lecture.

"Among others; pentagons are a more useful shape, specifically the innermost area of a pentagram. In any case, the language used in this book has distinct and separate terms for each of these definitions, so that there is very little chance of misunderstanding what a given instruction intends."

"So it's some kind of... magical language?"

"Well, no, it's not inherently magical in itself, but..." Minerva sighed, as Seiji's expression glazed over. "Never mind. The details do not matter, and would take too long to explain. Suffice to say that only those who have the proper knowledge will be able to read this book." That, or anyone given sufficient time and a modicum of intelligence.

"Then if someone can read this book," Seiji said, slowly working his way through the conversation, "they'll become a magician?"

Minerva closed the book. "That's not an easy question to answer, Seiji-san. I had intended for this grimoire to be merely a textbook, but..." But events in Gensokyo had proven the need for something more.

Seiji looked puzzled. "What use is a textbook for someone who's supposed to already know everything it teaches?"

An excellent question. "As I said, Seiji-san, it's not just a textbook. I've included a few... interesting variations inside."

"What about Alice?"

Minerva was caught off-guard by Seiji's sudden question. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Would Alice be able to read that textbook of yours? Didn't you promise to teach her magic?"

"Alice is... a special case," Minerva said. "She has a natural talent. She might not even need this grimoire, or my instruction, to become a great magician in her own right." So why do you insist on preparing her lessons, Minerva Margatroid? At what point are you willing to admit that the student has long surpassed the master?

Seiji ran a hand over his face, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Margatroid-san. It's just that, well. Sometimes, what you're doing seems like it's so far above anything the rest of us can even understand. And when you take a child like Alice as your apprentice, it seems a little..."

Saving humans from monsters, at the price of turning into a monster oneself. "Alice will not be involved in this business about youkai," Minerva said firmly, "save in unavoidable circumstances such as what happened at the festival. In fact, the primary reason for her instruction in magic is to prevent just such incidents from happening again. She will be free to choose her own path in life, be it as a puissant mage, or as an ordinary young lady, should her interest in the arcane arts dwindle and fade as she grows older."

Seiji looked steadily at her for a moment, before letting the matter drop. "Do you have any plans for the rest of the day, Margatroid-san?"

"Mm. I do have to pick up a few notes I asked Kamishirasawa-san to hunt down for me; he said he was going to drop them off at the Hieda mansion." Courtesy of Ryoutarou, who seemed willing to shuttle back and forth endlessly between Minerva, Kamishirasawa, and Motoori the printer. "I must say that my research would be expedited terrifically if I could only track down Hakurei-san."

"The shrine maiden?" Seiji said. "Now that you mention it, she has been a little reclusive lately. But she's still at the shrine, isn't she?"

"Not when I make my way there. She seems to have some way of knowing when I'm approaching, and make herself scarce."

"Maybe she has her reasons."

"Maybe," Minerva said, unconvinced. She stood, holding her grimoire. "Thank you for the book, and the conversation, Seiji-san. Was there anything else?"

Seiji looked as though he was about to say something, but thought better of it. "Not particularly. Next time, perhaps." He nodded cordially. "Good luck, Margatroid-san."

-----

Ryoutarou was not at the Hieda mansion; Minerva gathered that he was lingering at Motoori's bookshop, likely warding off the cold with hot sake.

He had delivered the requested notes earlier, however, so Minerva collected them from the servants. The lengthy interval since the disastrous harvest festival had softened the Hieda household staff's reaction towards Minerva, back to the mundane suspicion of a foreign magician on Japanese soil.

"By the way," she asked, "might I see the mistress of the house?"

The servants murmured something about a dojo.

Having lived at the Hieda residence for a number of months, Minerva was aware of the existence of the dojo building, located on the opposite side of the main house from where the alchemy shed had been situated. In Aya's time, the dojo had been silent and disused, another dusty old relic of a long-standing family.

As she approached the dojo today, however, Minerva could hear the occasional cry of athletic effort, accompanied by thumping footfalls on polished wood.

She found her way towards what seemed like a promising entrance, and carefully slid open the traditional Japanese paper door.

Three pairs of eyes tracked her, without their owners doing anything so obvious as to turn their heads to watch. The fourth person in the training hall was Miho, who did not deign to notice Minerva's arrival, or indeed anything other than the ritualized exercise currently underway.

Rather than linger awkwardly in the doorway, Minerva shuffled into the dojo, closing the door behind her. Everyone except herself was wearing what looked like a formal training uniform, a coarse thick white top and dark hakama trousers. The two women seated in the Japanese style on the sidelines were servants, whom Minerva vaguely recognized. The woman facing Miho on the dojo floor was unfamiliar, but probably also a servant.

Miho was wielding a long thin staff, taller than herself. One end tapered off into a curved suggestion of a blade; Minerva interpreted this as a training device for fighting with polearms of some sort. The woman on the other side of the duel had a much shorter wooden stick with the same tapering, which likely represented a sword.

Miho's movements were measured and deliberate, as were her opponent's. The swordswoman would advance with a rehearsed strike, which would be blocked and countered by Miho, who emphasized each equally rehearsed swing with a wordless shout.

Minerva took a seat some small distance from the other two servants, while her mind dredged up the relevant word from her scattershot studies of Japan: kata. A formal series of practice movements intended to teach the pupil the more useful techniques to survive in an actual confrontation against those who would do them harm.

That only women were present in the dojo right now was a point not lost on Minerva. Clearly Japanese women, or at least those of a certain social rank, were expected to be able to defend themselves and their homes, in times past.

But the world marched on, and the era of swords and spears was over, replaced by rifles, cannons, and reason. Save, of course, in this strange, confused land of ritual and tradition, where Miho and those like her would continue training with wooden weapons, passing the craft down to her daughters and granddaughters, even if all practical uses had passed into quaint antiquity.

Swords and spears and magic.

Miho and her opponent stepped apart, stowing their wooden practice weapons. They exchanged a bow measured to the precise millimetre, as dictated by ancient custom. The kata was evidently over.

Miho's opponent retreated via shuffling steps to the far side of the dojo, where she disappeared behind a door, possibly to change and refresh herself. Miho took a seat where she was, her practice polearm held upright, her expression neutral.

"Miho-san," Minerva began.

Miho responded to this with a silent, disinterested stare in Minerva's general direction. This lasted for a handful of seconds, before Miho's eyes flickered to the side, towards a rack of identical wooden practice staves.

"Miho-san," Minerva tried again.

Miho lowered her gaze, adopting a posture that suggested she would not mind waiting in that same position until the end of days. Despite Miho's earlier physical exertions, Minerva could see that her breathing was steady, and deliberately regulated. Trying not to show weakness, perhaps.

Or anger.

It was clear what Minerva was supposed to do now, in any case. Minerva stood, and tottered towards the rack of practice weapons. Now that she could inspect these close up, Minerva could see that the emulated weapon would be closer to a glaive or voulge than a spear. Not that it would make much of a difference for Minerva's situation, since she had no training in either.

Minerva picked a weapon at random, testing its heft. She was, at the least, passingly familiar with the quarterstaff, and competent in its use to discourage the occasional bandit during her travels. This usually took the form of swinging the staff as hard as she could, and not stopping until she had beaten her would-be assailant senseless.

Definitely not a valid strategy for this particular duel.

Minerva divested herself of a few outer layers of clothing, folding them as neatly as she could beside the weapons rack. On top of these, she placed her grimoire and notes. Nobody seemed inclined to offer her a practice uniform to change into; she would have to make do with her current clothing.

She walked back to where Miho was waiting, stopping at what seemed like a suitable spot several feet away. She tried not to look at the two servants still seated at the sidelines, or imagine their disapproving glares at her patent ignorance of proper protocol.

Miho stood in a graceful motion, turned to face Minerva, and bowed. Minerva copied the bow, before settling into an ill-remembered defensive stance, holding the polearm like a quarterstaff at low guard.

Miho set herself into a posture that may have been straight out of a textbook on Japanese polearm combat. Minerva tried to recall what the movements of the kata had been like; she had received an impression of reach, with Miho using the length of the polearm to create a space in which any attack will be rendered ineffective, and proscribe any foolhardy attempts to close the gap.

For now, Miho remained still, apparently content to wait for Minerva to make just such a mistake.

Minerva essayed a hesitant poke, only to have her staff slapped aside almost contemptuously. Miho's weapon described a lazy arc as she efficiently closed the distance and smacked Minerva painfully in the side.

The blow was obviously held back, and the choked titter from the sidelines suggested that it was not supposed to hit at all. Miho remained blandly expressionless, betraying no sign of satisfaction, as she readied herself for the next clash.

Minerva staggered back to her starting position, wheezing slightly; there would be a marvellous bruise come a few hours later. Still, the point scored against her had been more embarrassing than debilitating, and a tiny voice at the back of Minerva's mind reminded her that she deserved it, in exchange for the pain she had already put Miho through.

So, the primary advantage of this Japanese polearm, like all polearms, was reach. It was inconceivable for Minerva, holding this weapon for the first time, to best someone who had trained with it extensively.

But Minerva was quick on her feet, a natural talent that served her well when volatile chemical and alchemical experiments went awry. And with her extra height over Miho, and indeed most women in Japan, reach was also her advantage.

Miho stepped forward, stabbing towards Minerva's feet. Minerva hopped backwards, arresting her momentum in time to sweep her weapon forward unexpectedly, pushing Miho back. Miho avoided this counter-attack with ease, but could not quite find an opening through the spinning barrier of wood that Minerva was desperately keeping between them.

The polearm was heavy, however, and Minerva's arms would soon tire. She deliberately faltered, and then used the last of her burst of activity to bring the shaft up to a level guard, intercepting Miho's overhead strike.

The duellists separated once again. Minerva was breathing heavily now; Miho still looked as dispassionate as ever.

This was, Minerva decided, as good a time as any to end this.

She darted in for a swift but clumsy lunge, which Miho predictably batted away. Minerva had discarded her weapon, though, and clapped her hands over Miho's. Before Miho could react, Minerva hauled on the polearm, dragging Miho off-balance towards her. At the last moment, Minerva released her grip, tucked her head down, and charged.

The tackle caught Miho in her midsection, knocking the wind out of her, and the two women sprawled over each other on the dojo floor.

Minerva recovered first, hauling herself up on her elbows to see Miho's expression go from astonishment, to anger, to distress, and to other, infinitely more complex emotions.

Finally, Miho closed her eyes, and laughed weakly. She waved vaguely at the two servants, who had rushed to their mistress's side in concern. The servants acknowledged this signal with silent bows, before padding off to pick up the fallen weapons.

"That was not a legal move, Margatroid-san," Miho said, still breathless.

"I apologize," Minerva said, sitting up. "It was the quickest way I could think of to get your attention."

"You have it now. What do you plan to do with it?"

"I... am not sure. I didn't think I'd get this far, to be perfectly frank."

Miho sighed, as she sat up as well. "I can guess what you're going to say, anyway. But I don't know how to answer."

"Miho-san..."

"What, did you think you were the only person who felt the way you did?" Miho shook her head. "I know you wanted my forgiveness, Margatroid-san, but there's nothing to forgive. And even if there was, I'm not qualified to dispense your grace for you."

"Then who would?" Minerva asked, slightly more sharply than she intended.

Miho gave her a sad smile. "If you find out, do let me know. I had, in fact, been cross with you, for the arrogance of assigning every bit of blame to yourself, but a mere moment's consideration proved that I was guilty of the same selfishness. Self-pity is always comfortable, but eventually we have to move on, don't we?"

"It is not easy, though."

"No. It never is." Miho reached out to clasp Minerva's shoulder. "If it will help, I can say that I don't bear you any ill-will. Nothing rational, anyway; I hope you will forgive me my occasional lapses into unreasonableness."

"That's... very kind of you, Miho-san. Thank you." Minerva shifted slightly, and winced. "Although I must say your absolution is a trifle severe."

"Mercy and charity is all very noble," Miho said cheerfully, "but occasionally the baser parts of ourselves demand a measure of satisfaction."

The two women helped each other up, and Minerva limped her way towards the weapons rack where she had left her belongings. Miho provided a small amount of assistance and support, but notably did not apologize.

"How is little Alice?" Miho said, as Minerva gathered her coat.

"Probably still in bed," Minerva said. "She finds this weather disagreeable. I imagine if she could hoard Spring for herself and ration it out on days like this, she would be much less lethargic."

"Would an invitation to hatsumoude lift her spirits?"

"Beg pardon?"

"It's a sort of tradition," Miho explained. "On the eve of the New Year, close to midnight, we gather at the shrine to pay our respects. It's part of the usual ceremonies and customs surrounding this period of time; in a day or two, the Hieda household will be starting our own preparations here."

Minerva considered this. "Would Hakurei-san be there?"

"The shrine maiden? I suppose, but she'll probably be busy organizing the whole thing." Miho shrugged. "Most of the village will be there, but some people prefer keeping to the old calendar, rather than, er..."

Rather than the imported calendar imposed by foreigners. When would the old New Year in Japan have been? About a month or two after the actual one, if Minerva recalled correctly.

Well, if Japan wanted to join the rest of civilization as equals, they would have to adapt or be left behind. "It would be my pleasure to participate, Miho-san," Minerva said, tucking her grimoire inside her coat. "And I'm sure Alice will be delighted as well."

"That's good to hear. We'll see you then, Margatroid-san."

[AnonymousPondScum]

AN UPDATE! TODAY IS A JOYOUS DAY!

And that was a very Minerva tactic in the fight there.

[Blue]

Well, I just read all of this in about two hours, which is a pretty long time for me to be reading something, and it's really, really good. I really enjoy all the references and other things in the story, and your style of writing is great. I honestly can't wait for more chapters.

[Iced Fairy]

And I'd just thought that this needed to update.  Do you have Satori blood?

Glad to see it's still marching along.  May your muse speak to you more often.

[Yayifications]

Minerva rose early, despite having spent the previous night deep in research. She quietly crept out of the bedroom, leaving Alice still fast asleep.

The late winter dawn was just peeking through the trees surrounding the house as Minerva stepped outside, taking several deep breaths of the bracingly cold air.

Then she flattened herself against the side of the house, as the Imp erupted from the laboratory shed to pound around the corner at a terrific speed before diving head-first into a clump of frost-covered bushes.

When nothing drastic happened after twenty heartbeats, Minerva peeled herself off the wall, and strolled to the bushes, where her familiar had gotten back to her feet, spitting out bits of leaves.

By way of explanation, the Imp produced a piece of parchment from a pocket, depicting a cluster of long, dry-looking stalks. "Bloody needlegrass."

"Is that its name, or a value judgment?"

"It refers to the plant's habit of draining the blood of any unfortunate creature that wanders into its territory," the Imp said. "The grass grows on what is imaginatively called the Mountain of Needles, over at... well, it doesn't matter. I thought it might have some potential for our alchemy." She looked back at the door of the shed, swinging gently on its hinges. "As it turns out, it had a tad too much potential."

"Yet we seem to be undamaged. Should I credit providence or prudence?"

"Luck, I'm afraid," the Imp confessed. "My fault. I used the steel scoop instead of the copper; I'm not entirely accustomed to this world's magical climate."

Copper made no sparks, conducting the energy away and grounding it harmlessly. "Next time, try not to have the volatiles so close at hand. I'd appreciate having a house to return to."

"Oh, the house itself would have been perfectly safe," the Imp said. "The damage would have been more, er, localized. The shed, at the most."

And the Imp along with it, presumably. Would the Imp even be inconvenienced by an explosion at close range? Judging from her panicked escape, probably so. "I take it the needlegrass was, um... dry?"

"The sample I used had not fed on any victims recently, if that's what you're asking," the Imp said. "Unless you'd prefer otherwise? It would be less readily available; riskier harvesting process, you understand. But it can be done."

"No," Minerva said firmly. "We'll leave the needlegrass as it is. Do you have anything else to report? There was that other matter I assigned to your attention, wasn't there?"

The Imp spread her hands. "The solution requires a touch more refinement, but I foresee no great difficulties. It does hinge on your own success, if I may remind you."

"So it does." Minerva sighed, her breath puffing in the chill winter air. "God willing, I will make some progress on that today. In the meantime, did you have any plans for the day?"

The Imp waved at the shed. "More experiments. More of the same. Preferably without getting blown up this time."

"Then I shall leave the groceries to you," Minerva said. "When you have the time. Alice and I will be otherwise occupied for the rest of the day."

"This local human New Year business, wasn't it? I'll have a look around the village later, but if the occasion is as festive as you described, there might not be much to see. Tomorrow would be better."

"Much obliged. I've left a list in the kitchen." The Imp was surprisingly adept at haggling, so Minerva's finances were adequate for task of keeping them in some comfort. Minerva implicitly trusted the Imp with her money, on the basis that the Imp did not have much use for human currency save for human purposes.

Breakfast passed without incident, Alice having woken with the vaguely long-suffering air of one resigned to the fact that winter was, at the moment, still extant. Minerva dressed her warmly, and the two made their way towards the village.

True to the Imp's prediction, the village streets were quiet and empty. The few pedestrians out and about were clearly moving purposefully to their destinations, sparing Minerva and Alice no more than the obligatory glance of curiosity at the foreigners.

Snatches of bright, happy conversations could be heard from inside the houses Minerva passed. Apparently New Year's Eve was a day for staying indoors, with family and friends.

Her perambulations took her to the shopping district, where the occasional store was still technically open for business, despite the proprietors being more interested in chatting with visiting friends than conducting commerce.

Maria was standing outside the Kirisame store, critically inspecting the sign above the door. She nodded amiably as Minerva and Alice approached. "Margatroid-san, Alice-chan. Good morning, and a happy new year. I'm afraid we're not open today. Is there something I can do for you?"

"It can wait until a more convenient time," Minerva said. "I was just going to browse for a few more instruments for my work. Where is Seiji-san, by the way?"

Maria waved a hand down the street. "Cleaning up his workshop. He's generally quite neat, so it shouldn't take very long, but it's a good idea to be thorough for the New Year."

Sweeping out the old, and bringing in the new. "And yourself?"

"Hm? Oh, I was just considering replacing that sign," Maria said. "It's getting a little worn-out, don't you think?"

"I suppose it would depend on how much trouble installing a new sign would be," Minerva said, peering upwards. "What do you think, Alice?"

Alice shrugged disinterestedly.

Maria laughed. "It's all right. It was just an idle thought, anyhow. Are you going to the shrine tonight?"

"Quite likely, yes," Minerva said. "Yourself?"

"I have to take inventory, but I'll probably drop by with my son for a while. Seiji has some other plans, I think; something about helping a friend get over a romantic setback."

Not an auspicious end to the year for Seiji's unfortunate companion. "Is the shrine visit a regular thing? I mean, does it happen every year, without interruption? It just seems to be a large undertaking for Hakurei-san herself."

"For as long as I've been in Gensokyo, I believe so. Some of the girls in the village do volunteer to help out during the event itself, but most of the preparations are done by the shrine maiden alone. I'm sure she wouldn't mind some assistance," Maria added brightly.

"Isn't it a little odd for Hakurei-san to take care of the shrine alone?"

Maria frowned thoughtfully. "It does seem that way, but I've never been able to learn the details. It's not something people talk about much."

Minerva pondered this as she continued her journey through the village. Even Maria, as much a Gensokyo native as could reasonably be considered, was shut out of the secrets that the true residents of Gensokyo knew, the enlightenment spontaneously appearing in their heads without need for education. The land kept its own counsel, and outsiders were tolerated, but seldom accepted.

So why are you still here, Minerva Margatroid?

Like the village, the Hieda mansion was rather more quiet than Minerva was accustomed to. A lone manservant met Minerva at the gates, clearly on the way out himself. He gave distracted directions to one of the mysterious rooms in a wing of the mansion, where Miho was last spotted. Minerva thanked him, and stood aside to let him pass.

Inside the mansion, servants scurried to and fro, exchanging brief flashes of conversation and gossip as they swept past each other. Rooms were being aired, furniture was dusted, and there was an air of purposeful activity, albeit diminished by the absence of fully half of the usual staff.

Minerva made her way to the designated room, easily located via the lively chatter and shrieks of laughter from within. She hesitated at the threshold, unwilling to interrupt whatever excitement was underway.

The door suddenly slid open, courtesy of a slightly breathless Miho. "Margatroid-san," she greeted. "And Alice. Welcome, and a happy new year."

"Happy new year," Minerva echoed, slightly offset from Alice's own mumbled version.

"Please, come in," Miho invited. "We've just finished a round, and I was thinking about taking a break."

Minerva shuffled into the room, patiently enduring the usual stares from the other women inside. All of them were dressed in bright kimonos, as Miho was. Miho chirruped a rapid set of introductions that Minerva almost immediately forgot; she was left with a vague impression that these were Miho's longtime friends, visiting for the eve of the new year.

Alice was met with a warmer reception, as the ladies engulfed her with enthusiastic exclamations and giggling hugs. The little girl bore this attention with commendable stoicism.

Several colourful cards were scattered across the floor, evidently the remnants of the game Miho and her friends had been playing.

"Hyakunin Isshu," Miho said, noting Minerva's gaze.

"Er... one hundred..."

"A hundred poets, one poem each," Miho supplied. "It's... oh, right, you probably haven't heard of it before. It's a game based on matching two halves of a poem." She indicated a neat stack of cards. "The first half is read out, and the one who first takes the corresponding card wins that card. There's a few other rules about picking the wrong card or card placement, but we can cover that later, if you're interested in learning. Or Alice, for that matter." Raising her voice slightly to address her friends: "All right, give the child some room! She's a guest here, too!"

Miho's friends reluctantly relinquished possession of Alice, who returned to Minerva's side, smoothing down her mussed hair with wounded dignity.

Minerva chuckled wryly. "I'm afraid my, er, lack of familiarity with the poetry in question would disqualify me. Do you memorize every one of these hundred poets?"

"Well, it's a famous anthology, and, um." Miho looked embarrassed. "Truth to tell, most of us just memorize a certain number of poems, and rely on those to win. Besides, understanding the meaning of the poem isn't as important as learning the sounds of the first few syllables, and associating them with the correct cards." Rallying: "Do you have anything similar? Some sort of well-known collection of poems, back in Britain?"

Minerva considered this. "Gaudeamus igitur," she suggested.

"Iuvenes dum sumus," Alice responded.

"What does that mean?" Miho asked, curious.

"It's just something sung among students," Minerva said. "It exhorts us to be merry while we are young and carefree, for our time on this green earth is limited." And how had Alice known about it? Minerva was fairly certain her curriculum did not include drinking songs of academia.

"That's... very Japanese, actually," Miho said. "Or, I should say, very human. It seems we are not so different."

"Hm," Minerva said noncommittally. Before she could reply, she was interrupted by a clear voice reciting lines of verse from the other side of the room, where Miho's friends had rearranged the cards in a neat Cartesian grid format.

"Looks like they're starting the next round," Miho said, by way of explanation. "We should leave, so we won't interfere with the game." She darted towards a corner shelf to retrieve a gaily-spackled box. "I can introduce you to the basics of the game in the next room. Come on."

The trio adjourned to what looked like an identical room, a few doors down. On the way, they encountered Ryoutarou, whom Miho mercilessly drafted to assist in the lesson.

The class quickly dwindled to a single teacher and student, as Alice was the only one actively interested in the game. Minerva had shown willing for a few minutes, before unobtrusively extracting herself.

"A happy new year to you," Ryoutarou said, keeping his voice low.

"Likewise," Minerva said. "Were we interrupting your duties?"

"Not in particular," Ryoutarou said. "Besides, I always have time for Miho. In any case, I was just coming by to see if she needed some snacks."

"I've noticed the reduced staff. I take it most of them have gone back to their homes?"

Ryoutarou nodded. "The eve of the new year is a time for family. Certain seasonal dishes are served, most of them representing a wish for the coming year. Longevity, fortune, and happiness."

"A worthy sentiment."

Ryoutarou eyed Minerva shrewdly. "Would you... like to join us? For this New Year's Eve?"

For the only family Minerva had in this strange and foreign land were those she claimed for herself. One mysterious foundling, and one devilish assistant. It was still rather more than anything she could look forward to, back in England.

"No," Minerva said, not quite able to keep the regret out of her voice, "not for me. There is something I need to do. Which brings me to a request I would like to make: if it's not too much trouble, could you look after Alice for me? She'll not have much to keep her interest if she accompanies me. All in all, I think she'll be happier here." Safer. "She can accompany you to the Hakurei shrine tonight; I'll be there, and we can rendezvous then."

"Mm." Ryoutarou's tone was neutral. "And Alice might benefit from a nap this afternoon, to prepare her for the midnight shrine visit. We'll take care of Alice for you, Margatroid-san. You can conduct your... duties... without worry."

"Thank you," Minerva said.

Ryoutarou nodded. "You'll have to make a decision soon, you know."

"I am aware." And yet, if Minerva could delay the reckoning long enough to find a way to save herself and everyone around her... "I promised to keep her safe. But I promised not to abandon her. Sooner or later, one or the other must break."

Ryoutarou was silent for a moment. "I've learned a little more about your work from Kamishirasawa-san. Or rather, the work that others like you have undertaken."

"Ubi sunt qui ante nos in mundo fuere?" Minerva muttered. She was not the first youkai hunter in Gensokyo, and she was treading a well-worn road, paved with the good intentions of her predecessors.

Or, for that matter, their bones.

"If it was just myself, I may continue my work without fear," she continued. "But with Alice... everything has changed. How strange it is, that having someone to care for would fill me with cowardice."

"Call it caution, instead," Ryoutarou suggested.

"The important thing is knowing the difference." Minerva looked at Alice, still engrossed in learning the game of a hundred poets. "I may have to leave Alice in your care in the future, for more extended periods of time, depending on circumstances. Some of what I must do is... unsuitable for a child."

"Alice seems loyal enough to you."

"She needs a family. And though it pains me to admit it, I may not be able to provide her with one, should circumstances intervene." Should anything happen to Minerva.

"Hieda no Alice?" Ryoutarou said, grimly.

It may yet come to that. "It's just a hypothetical. And the future is as yet uncertain; planning for the worst is only a sign of... caution."

Ryoutarou sighed. "I don't know what your intentions are, Margatroid-san. But whatever it is, I wish you luck."

And Minerva could certainly use every scrap of luck sent her way. "I'll see you again tonight, then."

[Dizzy H. "Muffin" Muffin]

Spoiler:

Hieda no Alice

X3

... Man I'm gonna need to reread this at some point.

[Yayifications]

Alice had taken the news of Minerva's errand in stride; she was obviously used to her guardian disappearing on a moment's notice, a fact which did not escape Miho's notice. Thankfully, Miho had kept her opinions to herself, for once.

The path to the Hakurei shrine was deserted, but well-kept and clear of snow. Nobody would be slipping on any ice-slick steps tonight, especially when the lanterns lining the sides were lit.

Hakurei herself was perched on a small stepladder, delicately hammering nails into a corner of the roof of the shrine.

"Top left corner of the warehouse," she said, upon noticing Minerva's approach. "Green box."

"Hakurei-san-" Minerva began.

"Top left corner of the warehouse, green box. It's a little heavy."

Minerva sighed, and trod off.

The small warehouse behind the main shrine building was not unfamiliar, and Minerva quickly located the box in question. It was indeed heavier than it looked, and contained nothing more sinister than an ancient set of finely-crafted porcelain dishes and cups, packed tightly in straw. It did not seem to have been touched in several months; the layer of dust on the box suggested a period closer to a year.

Hakurei had finished her carpentry by the time Minerva returned, and was hanging a set of chimes from the roof corner. "Thank you," she said, climbing down the stepladder and taking the box from Minerva.

"Is that for a ceremony of some sort?" Minerva asked.

"Every year," Hakurei confirmed. "On the eve of the New Year, as we cross into a new day. It's particularly important here in Gensokyo, where the youkai presence is more, um, pronounced."

Minerva vaguely recalled having heard about this, in a conversation long past. "Ensuring the dominion of your pantheon's chief sun goddess, er..."

"Amaterasu-no-oomikami," Hakurei said. "Origin of all that is good and mother to us all."

"Yes, quite." Minerva trailed Hakurei into the main living area of the shrine. The debris of preparation for the night's events littered the floor; Hakurei navigated these with ease, but Minerva had to pick her way through the obstacles with care. "Do you handle all of this yourself? It seems like a rather large task for just one person."

"Is it?" Hakurei said brightly. "Well, it's been like this for many years now, so I suppose I'm used to it. Besides, sometimes someone comes up from the village to help out, and good company always makes the work easier."

It was, Minerva reflected, often difficult to tell whether Hakurei was deliberately keeping her conversation at the shallow end, in order to bait interlocutors into committing some grievous faux pas. Minerva's own unfamiliarity with the subtleties of the Japanese language was a further hindrance. "Have you always been alone in your duties here?"

"Well, I am the Hakurei shrine maiden."

"Hakurei-san, that evasion is hardly subtle, by anyone's standards. I expected more creativity from you."

Hakurei looked back at Minerva with an expression of genuine puzzlement. "I'm sorry, I don't understand what you mean."

Direct confrontation was not a useful option, evidently. "I've been trying to get into contact with you for some time," Minerva said. "And yet you were always conveniently unavailable."

"Oh, that must have been unfortunate," Hakurei said, entering a small kitchen. There was room enough for two in there, if they did not mind crowding. Minerva opted to stand outside. "I did have to make a trip into the capital some weeks ago, though," Hakurei continued. "I put up a notice, but I hear it was blown away in a storm."

"Was it an important errand?"

"Mm, in a manner of speaking. It was something I was called upon to do, anyhow." Hakurei unpacked the dishes, and began giving them a good scrubbing. "I did take the opportunity to visit an acquaintance, however. He was very helpful with some inquiries I had. About your situation, as it happened."

This was unexpected. "What sort of help was provided?"

"Notes about certain rituals. Hiizumi-san's library is more substantial than my own." Hakurei waved a hand vaguely back in the direction of what passed for a drawing room in a remote Japanese village shrine. "There's a sack with all the papers over there. This is probably going to take a while, so why don't you have a look in the meantime? We can talk about it afterwards."

Minerva frowned.

"I promise I won't vanish without warning," Hakurei added, without changing her cheerful tone.

Gathering what grace she could still muster, Minerva retreated to the designated area, clearing a space around the low table to sit. There was indeed a small sack on the table, filled with an assortment of correspondence. On the basis that Hakurei would not have allowed Minerva access to anything she had not already vetted for consideration, Minerva began browsing through these.

The usual bills of payment and receipts for city services partaken were set aside; as an afterthought, Minerva rearranged them in calendar order. Hakurei was not a spendthrift by any means, but she had indulged in a few luxuries during her stay in Tokyo, such as new clothes and sandals. A few receipts were for strangely-named items of a mysterious and expensive nature. From the affixed shop seals, Minerva guessed that these were intended for Hakurei's Shinto duties.

The notes Hakurei had referred to had once been tied together in a packet, but the string had broken, and the papers hopelessly muddled. Minerva suppressed a grumble as she referred yet again to her much-used dictionary, in an attempt to reassemble order.

Hakurei's city acquaintance did not have handwriting as neat and precise as hers, which was exacerbated by cheap brushes and ink. Japan's attempts to modernize its cities had also led to the enthusiastic embracing of the markers of civilization, such as sheets of paper. For once, Minerva would have preferred the traditional scroll.

Hakurei eventually passed by the table on her way back outside, bearing an armful of boxes containing miscellaneous items. Minerva stood, partly to offer assistance, but mostly to stretch her legs.

"Thank you," Hakurei said, as Minerva relieved her of a box of musty talismans.

"Is all of this really necessary for tonight's event?"

Hakurei took a moment to consider this. "The shrine visit at midnight of the New Year is not precisely an organized festival, Margatroid-san. It is merely a sort of tradition, although even that might be placing too much importance on it." At Minerva's blank look, Hakurei tried again. "We, that is, the people of Japan, are generally expected to visit a shrine at least once a year. Sort of to remind ourselves that the gods are still present, and still deserving of our praise and faith."

A much more lenient arrangement than church Sundays. "And if they visit the shrine at midnight on the New Year, they are able to fulfil that requirement for two years at once."

Hakurei nodded. "Of course, few actually keep close watch on such things. But it has become a habit, and while it is hardly necessary for anyone to take part in the New Year's shrine visit, I do end up seeing quite a crowd when the time comes."

They had reached a set of tables at the side of the shrine, under the shelter of the overhanging roof. Hakurei began unpacking the boxes, efficiently laying out their contents in an obviously mercantile display. "I would surmise all of this," Minerva said, indicating the preparations, "is a natural response to the possibility of a large number of people gathered in one place, who happen to be amenable to spending some amount of money while they're here."

"I do have to eat," Hakurei said blandly.

"Will you be stationed here for the majority of the night? Apart from your ritual to appease your goddess, anyhow."

Hakurei refrained from correcting Minerva's summation. "Some of the young ladies of the village have volunteered to help, albeit for a reasonable portion of the proceeds. I believe some of them are actually looking forward to wearing the shrine maiden uniform." She eyed Minerva. "I'm afraid I don't have a spare for someone of your height."

"That will be all right," Minerva said firmly.

About half of the contents of the boxes were laid out onto the tables, Minerva imitating Hakurei's arcane arrangements. Hakurei was oddly particular about the stacks of paper slips with certain words written on them; Minerva learned that these were fortunes, to be drawn by hopeful supplicants for a modest fee. Fortune slips warning of ill luck could be exorcised by tying them onto the branches of a nearby tree. Minerva pushed aside visions of setting up a booth herself, offering tarot-based second opinions.

Several of the items to be sold were little jade pieces, shaped like commas. Minerva stared at them for a few moments, before recalling where she had seen them before. "These resemble half of the symbol of Yin and Yang I've seen so often."

"Magatama," Hakurei said. "The shape is... well, it's too lengthy to explain at the moment. But in general, it is intended to be a common replica of Yasakani no Magatama."

"Er."

"Yasakani no Magatama," Hakurei repeated didactically. "Along with the sword Kusanagi and the mirror Yata no Kagami, they are the Three Sacred Treasures of Japan. You may think of them as holy artefacts, along the lines of your Christian... cross?"

"The Holy Grail," Minerva suggested.

Hakurei acknowledged this. "I am not well-versed in your Western religions, I'm afraid. In any case, the Sacred Treasures are the Imperial Regalia, and they are the symbols of the heavens' favour, and the proof of the Emperor's rule. There are quite a few legends about the Sacred Treasures, involving the goddess Amaterasu. You might find them entertaining."

Interesting choice of adjective. "Do they hold some special significance? Apart from their, er, divine origins and Imperial importance."

"Kusanagi represents bravery," Hakurei said. "Or valour, or courage. Yata no Kagami represents wisdom. As for the jewel Yasakani no Magatama, well..."

"Power?" Minerva guessed.

"Benevolence," Hakurei corrected. "Attributes of a good ruler, and a good person."

The two women returned indoors to resupply. When they passed the drawing room once again, Minerva bent over to pick up a closely-worded letter. "I've been reading your mail, by the way," she said.

Hakurei looked politely interested.

"I confess some of the subtleties are lost on me, but is heterodoxy a common concern in your religion?"

This prompted a long, pained silence, as Hakurei formulated a way to explain the obvious to the ignorant foreigner using simple words. "Shinto is not so much a religion as you understand it," she finally said, gently taking the letter from Minerva's hands. "It is a way for the people to relate to and communicate with the gods; a path of thought to the gods, as the name itself suggests."

"Which appears to fit the definition of a religion."

"But the gods are everywhere, Margatroid-san. They are limitless and myriad, and one cannot live a single day without interacting with them in one way or another. Shinto is how one lives, not what one believes." Hakurei waved the letter in her hand vaguely. "We may take in stories and practices and habits from other sources. Sources which have been in this land long enough to be tradition, or which the people carry with them in their bones, wherever they come from. Folklore, or Buddhism, or perhaps even your Christianity."

Minerva followed Hakurei through the building, winding through more boxes and shapeless packages strewn across the floor. It was a wonder that the warehouse had anything left in it, considering the mess right here. "And that rather official-looking letter from the Japanese Imperial Government bureaucracy is representative of some sort of Council of Trent. Which you were summoned to Tokyo to receive the news thereof, if not the holy writs themselves."

Hakurei absently stuffed the letter into a sleeve of her robe. Minerva assumed the presence of a pocket within. "It has become... political. The current government wishes to show the world that it is strong and united. That Japan is one country, under one Emperor. Your England has one Church, does it not? It is the same thing that they seek to have."

"You do not approve?"

"I was not summoned to Tokyo, Margatroid-san. I went there of my own accord."

An answer to a question Minerva did not ask. Was it an answer to a question Minerva should have asked? "Is there, at the least, a glossary of common terms in Shinto? Or does every offshoot and shrine in Japan have their own definitions?"

"It depends," Hakurei said. "Where is the confusion?"

"The concept of a soul. Which, I gather, is rather different from the version I am accustomed to."

"Ah." Hakurei tapped a finger on her lips in thought. "I'll try to do what I can, but it's not the sort of thing you can summarize. You just... know."

As with everything else in Gensokyo. "I only require enough accuracy to be able to follow the notes you have so helpfully compiled for me. Or your acquaintance."

"My collection of books and scrolls about Shinto is somewhat limited," Hakurei said equably. "Price and opportunity, you see. Hot or cold?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Would you like your soba hot or cold?" Hakurei clarified. "I usually have it hot, considering the season."

Minerva realized that they had reached the kitchen once more, and that she was ferociously hungry. "I would have to concur. Hot it is."

"Long noodles for a long life," Hakurei said, as she opened cupboards to pull out worn, but carefully-cleaned pots and ladles. European-style, Minerva noted. "Usually it's eaten only shortly before the arrival of New Year's Day, or even as the year crosses over, but we'll be busy then."

"I hear this meal of symbolic longevity is to be eaten with family," Minerva said casually. "Do you usually eat alone?"

Hakurei favoured Minerva with her usual sunny, serene smile. "Yes."

-

The people of Gensokyo began to trickle towards the shrine only a few hours before midnight. Most of them glanced at Minerva's patient presence at the torii gates in passing, but the foreign magician was a village fixture by now. One could get used to even the strangest of things, evidently.

Alice finally arrived, along with the rest of the Hieda entourage. The little girl was dressed in an adorably tasteful kimono in blue, with a fur-trimmed shawl around her shoulders. Clearly Miho's tastes had been overruled in favour of sanity.

The usual round of greetings ensued, before Alice was redeemed into Minerva's custody. Miho, surrounded by her giggling friends, departed to mingle and circulate among the other villagers, with Ryoutarou trailing behind a short distance, visibly awkward in the midst of concentrated femininity.

"And how was your day, Alice?" Minerva asked.

Alice happily gave a detailed, rambling report of games played, clothes tried, gifts received, and rather too much food eaten. Through the uncharacteristically loquacious flow of information, albeit delivered in disjointed fragments and verbs, Minerva failed to catch any reference to a proper nap. Alice had apparently been too excited to sleep.

Eventually, Alice wound down, just in time to notice the package Minerva had slung across her back.

"Oh, this? Just a few more notes to look through, later. Research."

Alice muttered something under her breath about the endless parade of work that seemed to plague magicians.

"Magic is as much about the journey for knowledge as the destination," Minerva lectured. "If not more so. For the destination may be forever beyond the reach of even the most industrious student... yes, Alice, I know that means the work will never be done. That is the point."

Giving up on the peculiar preoccupations of grown-ups, Alice dragged Minerva along to the shrine proper.

The shrine grounds were not as crowded as Minerva had feared. There was no press of bodies as in the harvest festival, and people came and went as they finished whatever they came to the shrine to do, and spread out across the surrounding area in small, quiet groups. Whatever sanctuary from youkai attacks the Hakurei shrine had established, it seemed to extend past the property itself.

Nobody wandered far enough to lose sight of the torches arrayed around the shrine grounds, however. Perhaps safety was simply based on the reassurance of the light.

The Hakurei shrine was seeing respectable business tonight. Apart from the sale of trinkets and charms, there was a queue in front of the donation box, where visitors would toss in a suitable monetary offering, before jangling the bells hung above the donation box using the attached rope of colourful braids. Minerva knew quite a bit about the bells, because Hakurei had tasked her with making sure that they were taken down, cleaned, and replaced securely. The old rope had been fraying, and so Minerva had to produce a new one.

Through all the preparations, Hakurei had not volunteered any more meaningful information after the initial conversation, referring Minerva instead to the notes from her acquaintance. Minerva had been relieved when the girls from the village finally arrived that evening, leaving Hakurei to instruct them on their duties and Minerva to attempt a dignified withdrawal into her research.

Minerva and Alice reached the front of the line, and cast their coins into the donation box, Alice drawing from her own allowance. Minerva went through the motions of invoking the favour of the Japanese gods by rote. Alice, for her part, looked terribly sincere.

What could Minerva wish for? Long life and prosperity, in the Oriental tradition, possibly. But living to a ripe old age was fraught with the vagaries of fate and chance, and riches beyond her imagining had never held much attraction for Minerva.

Courage, wisdom, and benevolence. An understanding heart, as with Solomon. Knowledge, as with Faust.

To save humans from monsters.

What do you really want, Minerva Margatroid?

Minerva and Alice shuffled to the side, allowing the line behind them to proceed. After the donations, there did not appear to be very much to do until midnight. Alice expressed little interest in drawing fortunes, despite its popularity with the other villagers; the winter-bare trees had begun to sprout little white paper knots. She lingered speculatively before the talismans, however, less for the alleged spiritual assistance advertised, and more for their decorative possibilities.

"Oh! Um..."

Minerva aimed a kind, non-threatening smile at the girl in a shrine maiden uniform behind the table. "Yes, dear?"

"You are, er..." The girl did not seem confident in her ability to pronounce foreign names. She fell back onto parroting prior instructions. "Hakurei-san told me to give this to you."

It was a box, about six inches to a side, slightly heavier than it seemed. Antique and corroded paper charms were plastered around it, with a fresh set sealing the lid.

"Am I allowed to open this?" Minerva asked, rattling the box gently. Based on how the weight shifted, there was something round inside, but the interior of the box was padded well.

"Um... she didn't tell me anything about that."

And the last and only spirit left inside was Hope. "Thank you for your timely delivery," Minerva said. "Please thank Hakurei-san for me, should you see her before I do."

Alice looked at Minerva questioningly, as they moved away from the tables.

"Not here," Minerva murmured. "Later, when I have more chance to study it in more detail. I would rather not proceed until I know what we are dealing with."

"Margatroid-san?"

Locating a tall British witch in the midst of a Japanese village was not especially difficult, Minerva reflected. "Seiji-san. I heard you were busy. Is Maria-san with you?"

Seiji flapped a hand vaguely. "You just missed her. She's feeling a little under the weather, so she decided to turn in early."

"Nothing serious, I hope. Oh, and a happy new year to you."

"Happy new year," Seiji echoed. "It's just a headache, I think; it'll probably pass by tomorrow."

"And your lovelorn friend?"

"Maria told you about that?" Seiji shrugged. "He's a melodramatic drunk, but he can't hold his liquor either. We wrung him out and tossed him in bed hours ago." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Just between us, I think he still has a chance. I'm not sure whether I should encourage him to give it another go, however."

"Carpe diem," Minerva advised. "Tomorrow will be a new day. A new year, in fact. Speaking of which, will there be any other activities tonight? We've already paid our respects to the shrine. And the donation box."

"Mm, it depends on what you want to do, I think." Seiji cast his eyes around. "There's always Hakurei-san performing her ritual to Amaterasu. She should be..."

"Over there," Minerva said, pointing. She had watched Hakurei carefully arrange the offerings to the sun goddess, based on some arcane and ancient template. Privately, Minerva could not sense any particular significance to the arrangements, which nevertheless seemed to hold some deep and transcendent meaning to the shrine maiden and her religion.

"Oh, that's right, you were here earlier. Didn't you want to talk to Hakurei-san about something or other?"

"Something or other," Minerva agreed.

Hakurei was in the midst of her ritual, which looked to continue for some time yet. A respectful space was cleared around the ritual area, paired with an equally respectful silence. Only Hakurei's voice could be heard, over the crackling of the torches. Archaic syllables rolled smoothly off her tongue, accompanied by slow, measured gestures over the altar. A sacrament of the far East, requesting and ensuring the primacy of the forces of light over the denizens of the dark.

It was, truth be told, rather boring.

Minerva reached out to steady Alice, whose energy had been exhausted by now, leaving her dozing on her feet. Alice jerked awake, and immediately pretended not to be embarrassed. She did suffer to be led away, and voiced no objections to letting Seiji carry her on his back.

"Most people who're still here will have packed something to eat," Seiji mused, once they were a sufficient distance from the ritual to speak again. "Or read. Or do, in general."

"How long will they stay?" Minerva said quietly. For Alice had nodded off again.

"Until dawn. Which is about when Hakurei-san will be finished too."

"Dawn?" Minerva raised her estimation of Hakurei's stamina considerably.

"Being able to see the first sunrise of the new year will give you luck for the rest of the year," Seiji explained. "Or so they say, anyway. And the Hakurei shrine is one of the best spots to do it at."

And a ritual to the sun goddess should be finished only when the sun actually appears. "I'm afraid that will be rather too much for us. It might not be a bad idea to start heading back to the village."

The path from the shrine was lined with torches and the occasional collection of villagers, including a curiously high proportion of couples. Most of these were lost in their own conversations and worlds, paying Minerva, Seiji, and Alice no mind.

"There's a full moon out," Seiji said, evidently making conversation.

"Indeed." Feeling that this was inadequate: "Are there any stories? About the moon, I mean. In Japan."

"Rabbits," Seiji said. "Pounding mochi." Pointing up: "See, the shapes on the moon... the rabbit is there, holding the mallet, and there's the mochi."

Minerva raised an eyebrow. "For there liveth none under the sun, that knows what to make of the Man in the Moon. What else, apart from picture-shapes?"

Seiji coughed. "Well, there's also a princess."

"Oh?"

"A princess from the moon. One day she was found in a bamboo grove, as a baby, by an old bamboo-cutter and his wife. They raised her as their own child, and she grew into a beauty renowned throughout the land. Lots of stories... princes arrived to court her, but she didn't want any suitors, so she sent them away with impossible requests..."

"Impossible requests?"

Seiji's brow furrowed. "There was a list of five of them. Let's see... the great stone bowl of the Buddha, a jewelled branch from the floating mountain of Hourai, the robe made from the legendary fire rats of China..."

"Yes, I believe I have the gist of it." Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. "Did any of the princes succeed?"

"Well, no," Seiji said. "Although one came close, with a forgery. Anyway, the princess had to return to the moon in the end. There's also a story about how she was friends with the Emperor, and she sent him an elixir..." He shook his head. "Never mind, that's enough about that. What about you, Margatroid-san? What do you see when you look up at the sky?"

The sun, the moon, and the stars. The power of the stars...

"When I was a young girl, no older than Alice is, my father took me to London for a holiday," Minerva said distantly. "We visited museums and parks, and it was all terrifically exciting to me. But the one place which I remember the clearest is Flamsteed House: the Royal Observatory at Greenwich. The prime meridian, the basis of all longitude and thus the single most important point of reference in the entire world, was established to be there. There, at the Royal Observatory, the world begins and ends."

If Seiji was nonplussed by this apparent change in topics, he gave no sign.

"We went to see the meridian marker in the courtyard," Minerva continued, every step in her memory as vivid as ever. "Just a little strip of brass, not especially grand or impressive on its own. And yet thanks to what that piece of brass represented, every country in the world may be laid out on a map, neat as you please." She turned her face up to the night sky. "It opened my eyes. My father was trying to tell me something about the British Empire, but what I remember from that moment was the vision of that brass strip extending all across the world, and the line lifted into the heavens, so that it may be seen wherever one may be."

Even on the wrong side of the world. Even in an alien, incomprehensible land of myths and secrets. Even here in Gensokyo, where the distinction between human and monster may not be so very clear.

"That's what I think of when I see the stars," Minerva finished. "The meridian of Greenwich, in the sky."

Seiji cleared his throat awkwardly. "Margatroid-san..."

The world blinked.

Minerva matched this with one of her own. Around her, what few villagers were present had also perceived the twitch in reality, and were looking around in confusion.

"Margatroid-san?" Seiji said again, this time looking worriedly at the sky.

The world blinked again. Now that Minerva was paying attention, she could see that this was nothing more, and nothing less, than the very briefest of moments, a mere fraction of an instant, when the entire sky had gone dark.

This time, when it returned, only the moon was present, hanging low and oppressive, alone.

"The stars are gone," Seiji said, with the tones of someone trying to convince himself that he was still awake and sane. "But they can't be gone. They're the stars."

"You are absolutely correct," Minerva said crisply, striding towards the village. "On both counts." Around her, the murmurs of the villagers had already begun, as did the convergence towards the Hakurei shrine in search of answers.

Lacking answers, reassurances would do.

Even Alice had woken up by now, sleepily rubbing her eyes and boggling at the sight of the new commotion. Seiji let her back onto the ground gently. "Margatroid-san, what's happening?" he asked.

Minerva reached into her coat to extract her pocket-watch, checking it with a glance. "A happy new year to one and all," she said.

"What?"

"Do pick up the pace, Seiji-san, Alice," Minerva said. "It has begun, and there is much to do."

[Iced Fairy]

Interesting.  Interesting.  I wonder if Minerva's partly to blame or if she's merely employing British understatement.  Either way another fine chapter.

On a more subtle level I notice Alice really isn't being given a voice.  It's kinda sad how Minerva's overlooking her.  Then again I suppose that's a weakness of magicians.

[Dizzy H. "Muffin" Muffin]

Hm. I'm reminded of that music video for the IOSYS remix of Yukari's PCB theme, with the gap opening in front of the moon.

That said: everyone pose as a team, because shit just got real.

[Yayifications]

In deference to Seiji's obvious reluctance to venture into the forest in the dark hours of night, Minerva reinstalled herself within the alchemy shed behind the Hieda mansion. Given the circumstances, none of the few servants still in the house was of a mind to raise any objections.

The first thing Minerva did was to send Alice off to bed. The little girl made some obligatory grumbles of protest, but obediently followed a servant to a spare bedroom in the mansion; their old room, in fact.

The second thing Minerva did was to return to the shed, and address an unremarkable patch of shade, wavering in the light of hastily-erected torches. "Have you brought it?"

"Since you failed to specify the exact nature of 'it', I have picked out the most likely candidates for your perusal," the shadow replied, coalescing into the form of the Imp. Behind Minerva, Seiji made a strangled sound.

"Oh, my apologies," Minerva said. "I meant the... ah, here it is." She took a tiny leather pouch from the Imp.

Seiji stared back and forth between the two women. "Did you know about this, Margatroid-san?" he demanded, pointing at the empty skies.

"I suspected an event would occur soon, and prepared eventualities," Minerva admitted. "I did not, however, think it would happen tonight. Or that it would take the form it has."

"An event?"

"Do you feel any different from before, Seiji-san?" Minerva asked, in the spirit of intellectual curiosity. "More energetic, more excitable?"

"I should think so, since the stars have gone out!"

"The stars are still in their usual place," the Imp corrected. "However, quite a significant area, including the village, has been sectioned off. Isolated, in a way; I haven't tried to travel physically past the borders, but the Shadowed Paths are well and truly blocked. Gensokyo is now covered by... something. I'm not entirely sure what, myself."

"Hence obscuring the stars beyond," Minerva said. "But what of the moon?"

"I have no idea," the Imp said. "Does Gensokyo have its own personal lunar body, perhaps?"

A mystery to set aside for another time. "Seiji-san, why don't you go home and have a rest? Whatever the situation at present, it is hardly likely to resolve itself by morning. I doubt I can do anything about it myself without first, er, exploring the possibilities."

Seiji took this dismissal with more grace than Minerva deserved. "I'll go check in on Maria on the way home," he said. "Maybe all the commotion woke her up. I'll tell her there's nothing to worry about, yes?"

Not yet, anyhow. "Everything will be all right," Minerva assured him. "Please, get some sleep. I shall see you again tomorrow."

And Seiji would tell anyone he came across that the foreign English witch had the situation under control. No doubt Hakurei was doing much the same, up at her shrine. Little by little, calm, or a semblance thereof, would be restored to the village.

Which accounted for the humans; the youkai of Gensokyo would have to seek their own counsel.

Minerva set down the box she received from Hakurei onto a table. "Imp? Come and have a look at this."

Removing the lid revealed a polished orb inside, nestled in faded cushions. Minerva held it up in the lamplight; it was smooth and slick to the touch, and weighty enough to cause noticeable damage to anything or anyone it might be hurled at. It was vaguely bisected into two colours by a curved line through its hemisphere, in addition to dots marked at certain points.

Minerva shifted the orb in her hands, and was unsurprised to recognize the symbol of yin and yang.

"There was power here once," she mused, replacing the orb in its box. "The influence, but not the source. Imp?"

"Very useful," the Imp said, carefully keeping her distance from the orb. "For modifications, or amplification. Particularly since I believe it is hollow, which may serve your purposes admirably. Where did you get it?"

"Hakurei gifted it to me. Or rented, possibly; the payment may be due quite soon. Imp, is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

"Only that I've never seen its like before, and I recommend caution when investigating it." The Imp shrugged. "For all I know, whatever once powered it is now spent, and it is no more than a bauble to look pretty on the mantelpiece."

Minerva opened the leather pouch, letting the lump of crimson metal fall into her palm. "Is it compatible, do you think?"

"I don't see why not," the Imp said. "I must say, your accumulation of mysterious artefacts is beginning to worry me."

"I am in a strange, faraway land," Minerva said, "toiling to perform a task I do not understand, requested by an authority I do not recognize, arranged for a purpose I cannot comprehend. I welcome all the advantages I can accrue."

"A commendably busy schedule."

"Particularly in view of the quickening pace of recent events, whether spontaneous or orchestrated by mischief, I do not know. Hell is empty, and all the devils are here."

"Yes, well," the Imp said.

-

By the time Minerva emerged once more from her work, the sun had risen, to her secret and profound relief.

The dramatics of the previous night had evolved into a persistent tension in the air, as the dawn revealed a sky overcast with ominous clouds. The disappearance of the stars had yet to be resolved, and there was little else to do for the majority of the villagers but to wait for a soothing explanation from someone sufficiently credible. As the days would go by, the threshold of trustworthiness would likely be loosened considerably.

Minerva glanced up towards the heavens, and scowled. Then she returned to the alchemy shed to pack a few more tools, shuttled in the previous night by the Imp using methods unsuitable for lesser beings, or so the Imp had assured her. The explanation had involved a great deal of jargon, but Minerva had gotten the impression that it required a certain frame of mind.

"So how long do would it take to learn?" Minerva had inquired.

The Imp had given her a look that was equal parts pity and exasperation. "That, I'm afraid, is precisely the problem."

Fastening the pouch to her belt, Minerva set out purposefully into the quiet streets.

Her progress through the village was marked by the steady stares of bystanders. A most unusual incident had occurred, and it was only natural to seek out the most unusual member of their little community.

Minerva slowed her pace when she reached the town square. Kamishirasawa had detached himself from a knot of grave-looking gentlemen, and was descending upon her with an equally grave-looking expression.

"Kamishirasawa-san," Minerva greeted him. She tried to ignore the disconcertingly coordinated manner in which the other men dispersed.

"Margatroid-san. Where is Alice, might I ask?"

"Sleeping in this morning," Minerva said. "At our old room in the Hieda mansion. I left her a note telling her to stay there; I don't imagine I'll be long."

Kamishirasawa responded to this with a level gaze. When no further elaboration seemed forthcoming, Minerva continued on to her destination, and Kamishirasawa fell into step beside her.

"You're up early today," Minerva said, attempting to make conversation.

"As are you. From what I may observe, however, unlike you, I did manage to get a few hours in."

Minerva touched her face, and decided that she would do best to avoid any mirrors for the rest of the day. "Do I look so haggard?"

Kamishirasawa ignored this. "Kino-san's daughter failed to return home last night," he said instead.

Minerva settled for an expression of polite sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that," she hazarded.

"It is less serious than you may be thinking. We eventually learned that she was at the Hakurei Shrine; she suddenly fell ill during the ceremony, and it seemed wisest not to move her all the way back here. Her father left for the shrine at dawn."

"I see." Minerva suppressed the immediate surge of queries, not least of which was who Kino-san was in the first place. "How is she? Kino-san's daughter, I mean."

"It seems to be simple fatigue. Dizziness, headaches, a fainting spell. And yet for her to succumb to something like this, and so quickly at that..." Kamishirasawa shook his head. "Questions upon questions. Add the events of last night, and you may understand why the village is rather quiet, this new year."

"Did Hakurei-san say anything?"

"She did." Kamishirasawa frowned. "And she did not."

Meaning Hakurei was her usual cryptic self. Minerva tried to think of a diplomatic way to voice her suspicions on Hakurei having planned this entire thing, or at least having prior knowledge.

"What about yourself, Margatroid-san? Have you uncovered anything with your efforts?"

"I am not entirely certain," Minerva confessed.

"I am sorry, Margatroid-san, but that simply will not do."

Minerva stopped in sheer surprise. Kamishirasawa had not said the words with any heat, but she sensed that it would be unwise to protest.

"Gensokyo is used to youkai," Kamishirasawa continued calmly. "We have lived in this valley for hundreds of years. We have learned and adapted, and we live each day trusting that the next one will not be so very different. We are also used to youkai hunters; strangely, even their presence is seldom a disruption to our way of life. And yet during the autumn festival, a youkai entered the village and kidnapped a child. Last night, the stars vanished from the skies."

It was politic of Kamishirasawa, Minerva felt, to omit the fate of the Child of Miare.

"The times are changing, Margatroid-san," Kamishirasawa said. "And oddly enough, these changes are coincident with your presence in this village. I do not think you are directly responsible for these incidents, of course; there have been several minor cases before your arrival, connected only in hindsight. Yet here you are, with secret knowledge and enigmatic utterances, claiming to have solved the problem of the youkai."

"I have never-"

"Peace, Margatroid-san. Whatever your intentions, that is what your actions have spoken on your behalf. There comes a time when slyly professing ignorance, even if borne from a rightful caution against guesswork, only serves to fan speculation among the rest of us. It breeds uncertainty. And with that..." Kamishirasawa pointed a finger to the clouded skies. "We need certainty, Margatroid-san."

"I do not have certainty, Kamishirasawa-san. I cannot speak without knowing that what I say is true. As a magician, I must warn you that words have power."

"As a teacher, I already know," Kamishirasawa said. "I cannot order you to act; I do not have the right, nor does anyone else in this village. However, I would... recommend... acting sooner rather than later. This is not a threat, Margatroid-san, nor a dire warning of future consequences. Whatever happens, will happen. It is more a reminder, of who you are, and what you represent to the people of Gensokyo."

Minerva was silent for a moment, before a statement rose unbidden from her consciousness, bypassing her common sense entirely: "I'm afraid I don't think I know Kino-san."

"You should," Kamishirasawa said, already turning to leave. "You drink his tea every other day."

Minerva looked back towards the village square, where the teahouse could just barely be seen, shuttered and dark. She had noted its status when she passed by, and categorized it as a trivial piece of incidental information, hardly worthy of more than a passing thought. The tea shop was closed, and so she would have no tea there today.

In all her time in Gensokyo, Minerva had never learned the name of the proprietor.

Who are you saving from monsters, Minerva Margatroid?

It was only a short walk towards the Kirisame shop, where Seiji was just departing. His face visibly brightened when he saw her, despite showing clear evidence of an equal lack of sleep.

"Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui l'admire," Minerva muttered darkly.

"What was that, Margatroid-san?" Seiji said.

"It was nothing, Seiji-san. How is Maria-san?"

Seiji shrugged. "I still think she looks a little pale, but, well, she insisted."

Maria was indeed sitting behind the counter of the shop, wrapped up warmly in coats and blankets. She gave Minerva a wan smile.

"I heard about what happened last night," Maria said. "Of all the hatsumoude to miss, it had to be the most exciting one yet."

"The excitement is not over yet, Maria-san," Minerva said. "Unfortunately. Are you feeling all right? I can come back tomorrow if necessary."

"I'm fine," Maria said. "Just a little... well, I'm not sure what it is. The doctor gave me some medicine and prescribed bed rest, though."

"Seiji-san told me you had a headache last night. Was that when it began?"

"I think so."

"Dizziness? Feeling unaccountably flushed? Having difficulty balancing and focusing? Mildly increased heart rate? A slightly coppery tang to almost everything you taste, apart from sweets and sugars?"

Maria blinked. "I hadn't noticed anything different about my food, but now that you've mentioned it, yes. How did you know?"

Minerva hesitated. "I've come across such symptoms before. They're not too serious, and should pass within a few days. Bed rest is, indeed, a significant help for recovery, which means you should not be serving customers today."

Maria raised her hands in surrender. "All right, I'll close the shop. A few days, you say?"

"Most of the time, yes." Because the human body was a surprisingly resilient thing, and even the effects of improperly-channeled magic would naturally fix itself over time. Minerva had recognized Maria's potential for the arcane arts a long time ago, but Maria's weak talents had never been used, and would serve no purpose in her life, making offers of training moot.

Today, however, with the sudden increase in the rain of magical power around Gensokyo since the stars disappeared, Maria's magical instincts were stirring. She might never be able to cast a spell, and the only likely difference would be a heightened susceptibility for static electricity, but Minerva's memory helpfully recalled passages from tomes about the hereditary nature of magical ability.

"Was there anything in particular you were looking for?" Maria was saying.

Minerva brought herself back to the present. "I seem to remember a collection of semi-rare stones on display, when I last visited."

"Oh, that? I put it over there." Maria gestured towards the store front. "A traveller pawned it to me quite some time ago. I've never been able to sell it; most people here aren't too interested in rocks. It's quite pretty, though."

"Thank you." The stones were each roughly the size of a thumbnail, fixed onto a backboard with pins and twine. "I shall have payment ready by the end of the day."

"Don't worry about it." Maria peered curiously at the stones. "Are these stones magical?"

"In a manner of speaking."

Minerva's next destination was Seiji's workshop, where Seiji was carefully chipping away at a block of wood. He glanced up at Minerva's entrance. "Margatroid-san?"

"I need to borrow some of your tools, Seiji-san," Minerva said. "It will just take a moment."

Seiji tilted his head at the empty workshop. "Feel free. My assistants are off today. One's nursing a hangover, and the lad, well... I wouldn't blame his parents for wanting to keep him home safe, what with last night."

"My thanks." Minerva cleared a space on a workbench, and began laying out her tools. "What's that you're making?"

"This?" Seiji held up the piece of wood. "Just a bit of carving. It's nothing special, really; I was thinking of making another doll. To replace the one Alice lost. It gives me something to do while I, er, think of what to do next."

Minerva extracted the sole piece of ore she required from the collection. Quartz was not especially difficult to obtain in normal circumstances, but in a small Japanese village beset by dangers both supernatural and mundane, it was far more convenient to purchase whatever was available, rather than mining it herself.

"Why do you feel you have to do anything, Seiji-san?" she said, her attention still mostly focused on her work. Clips and clamps and twists, and slivers of metal affixed onto a tiny, growing apparatus.

"I don't really know," Seiji admitted. "It's just that with everything that has happened, I don't want to feel like I'm of no use, right? Just a passive observer, wringing my hands about how terrible everything is, without bothering to change the situation himself. I feel as though I should do something about all this." He paused. "Like what you've been doing all this time."

"Have I, now?" A pair of lenses, cannibalized from an ancient telescope, and carried in a velvet cloth. Scratched and dirty, but viable for her needs.

"Haven't you? All the talk about youkai-hunting and making Gensokyo safe. I've seen you hurry about, always busy with something or other. Whatever you're planning must be big."

"I suppose that depends on your point of view."

An interruption in the conversation, as Minerva held up a hand for silence. In her other hand, a tuning fork, which she tapped gently upon the edge of the workbench. Minute adjustments in the developing contraption were made.

"What I plan is relatively simple," Minerva finally said. "Which is not the same thing as easy. The ritual does require me to be in as high a location as I can; hence all the preparations to breach Youkai Mountain's rather impressive defenses. Even with that accomplished, there is also the question of power. To that end, I've been researching a variety of sources."

"How much power do you need, anyway?"

"It is not a question of quantity, as such, but... a fair amount. I intend to cover all of Gensokyo in the spell, which is a substantial geographical area. I must add that I may have an unexpected advantage in this: concurrent with the disappearance of the stars last night, the ambient amount of magic in Gensokyo appears to have risen." Drastically, in fact; Maria's condition, as well as that of Kino's daughter in all probability, were signs enough.

"Do you think they're connected?" Seiji said.

"While it is tempting to say so, I have no data to confirm it. Either way, it alleviates some of the issues, but by no means solve them entirely."

"So what now? Do you have an idea about where you're going to get all this, uh, magical energy?"

Minerva sighted through the lenses, now festooned with a device of unsettling angles. "Not until this morning. Have you looked up at the sky recently, Seiji-san?"

"It's all cloudy," Seiji said suspiciously. "Why?"

"Come outside and see."

Seiji's workshop was surrounded by taller buildings, but Minerva managed to get a good angle of view on Youkai Mountain. "Hold these lenses like this, in front of your eye," she instructed. "You should be looking at the skies around Youkai Mountain, not at the mountain itself. I'm afraid the view may be rather fuzzy; focusing properly will not be possible, until I construct a proper telescope to hold the lenses. But with a bit of luck, you might be able to-"

Seiji staggered back, shouting something unfamiliar that Minerva assumed to be suitably vociferous oaths. She quickly plucked the lenses out of Seiji's hands, lest he drop them in his shock.

"Based on the records of Oriental myths I have perused, as well as the example paraded so excellently during the autumn festival, I am assuming the vast creature circling Youkai Mountain to be the local version of a dragon," Minerva said. "Am I correct in this?"

"Er, yes," Seiji said. "But it's a dragon! Right here!"

"Only visible to a certain special sight, or thaumaturgical assistance. I suspect the dragon is playing some role in the surge of magic in Gensokyo, although, once again, I have no proof."

"Margatroid-san, is that what you're going to draw your magic from?"

"If it matters theologically, I highly doubt this is your particular dragon god. Too ostentatious for any deity, in these prosaic times." And if it was a god, then maybe Hakurei might put in a good word for Minerva.

Seiji shook his head in disbelief. "There are stories, but... Margatroid-san, are you sure about this? In all those stories, dragons are much too powerful for any human to cross."

"We have stories about mighty dragons too," Minerva said, folding the lenses into the velvet cloth and tucking them into her pouch. "Back in England. Especially one about a certain fellow, a Saint at that. We call him George."