Mystia's Magic Sand

[The fanfiction section of Maidens of the Kaleidoscope has really picked up in activity lately. Apart from people posting their stories to be read, appreciated, and critiqued, the Librarians there have set up a Weekly Writing Challenge - a theme is given, and you have a week to complete a story based on that theme. The following story was my submission to the theme, "In this week's writing challenge, you must involve one of the Touhou characters setting up a "medical" "practice". It can be hypnoregressive therapy at Koishi's hands, THC-certified products sold in the SDM, you name it! (And because this is a question that's bound to pop up: Yes, Eirin's canon medical practice is fair game, so long as you do it well." I thought Eirin would have to sit out for this one, and turned again to Team ⑨.]

Mystia sat by her grilled eel stand, leaning against it dejectedly one late summer night, looking up at the stars and trying to invent her own constellations. As usual around this time of night, Wriggle came by to visit her.

“Hey, Mystia,” Wriggle greeted her warmly, then paused, looking at her a moment. “What's the matter? You seem down.”

“I am down,” grumbled Mystia. “I blinded eight people tonight, so you'd think I'd be in a good mood. But you're the first person I've seen tonight.”

“Huh, that's weird. You think they might've gotten lost?”

“Nah, they didn't. Normally when they do, you hear them get attacked by youkai, crying out in terror, at some point in the night. It's pretty hilarious. No, Alice and Marisa probably got to them before I did.”

“Marisa and Alice are killing people?”

“What? No. They're curing their blindness. I've got no business. You think people would eat this stuff if it wasn't to cure blindness? Forget it. I'm going to have to close up shop.” Mystia sighed.

Wriggle thought about the situation a moment, hoping to offer a suggestion that could cheer her friend up. “Well,” she thought out loud. “You know how to do other things, right?”

“You're right.” Mystia considered, nodding. “There has to be another way to make money off of people by blinding them.”

“You could just rob them. They can't see you.” Wriggle shrugged.

Mystia looked appalled. “Touch one of those things? Are you kidding me? Never.”

“Hm. Do you know any magic?”

Mystia laughed wryly. “Apart from blinding people, I can dance, and that's really about it.”

“Well, you also got pretty good merchant sense,” Wriggle offered. “You could open up a shop somewhere. Of course you'd have to consider where, and what you'd sell, who would buy it. And you couldn't really blind people. Or, maybe you could, after they bought something. If you really wanted to.”

Mystia didn't appear to be listening. She was staring at a point a few yards behind Wriggle, an idea congealing.

“Wriggle … I think I know what to do. OK. You have to swear not to tell anyone this, but the sand of the shores of the Misty Lake has magical properties.”

Wriggle started back a little, surprised. “What? I never heard that.”

Mystia paused. “Well, actually it's not true. But it doesn't matter. We can sell it as magic sand, tell people it's a secret where it's from.”

An owl hooted. “What?” said Wriggle at last.

“We tell people it's magic sand, and that it can do all kinds of things like … like cure headaches and stomach aches, and heartburn, and fevers and … yeah. Anything.”

“Hang on a moment.” Wriggle cut in. “How- Why magic sand? Won't people find out it's not magic?”

Mystia chuckled. “Are you kidding? You think what Marisa and Alice do is something special? I'll tell you what – almost all magic is just making someone think you used magic on them.”

“Eh? Really?” Wriggled laughed. “Wow. Anyone could do it.”

“You know it. And if one or two people say it doesn't work, we'll just tell 'em they didn't use it right. Ha!”

Mystia stood up, her eyes gleaming with joy. “Alright, Wriggle. Guess we're going to the lake.


2.

Wriggle and Mystia spent the better part of the night on the shores of the Misty Lake, a half-moon lighting their work, as they scooped handfuls of sand, one by one, into little cloth swatches of brown cloth, which they'd bind up with string.

The following evening, Wriggle and Mystia covered the unused eel grill with a cloth and arranged the little pouches of sand on it. There were forty in all. While they waited for customers, Mystia practiced dancing, and Wriggle watched her.

About two hours later, Rinnosuke stopped by. Mystia was dancing, and Wriggle sat with her back to him. Mystia waved to him happily, and ended in a half-hearted split. Wriggle clapped gleefully.

“Well, what brings you by here?” Mystia asked. “Eyeing up the competition?”

Rinnosuke looked at the little cloth bags, then looked at her. “No. I don't sell eel. I heard you're not selling it anymore, either. Or rather, that 'we ran that little squab out of business', as Marisa put it to me today. So I was just curious to see what you'd be-” He looked down at the cloth sacks. “What are these things?”

“Magic sand,” Mystia chirped.

“Magic sand.” Rinnosuke repeated. “Is that right?”

“That's right. And it can do anything,” said Wriggle, punctuating it with a nod.

Rinnosuke suppressed a smile. “Anything?”

“Well, not anything of course,” Mystia shrugged. “But it can take care of, uh, headaches, and fever, and bad stomach. That kind of thing.”

Rinnosuke picked up a bag, weighing it in his hand. It was no bigger than his palm. He turned it over in his hand, and then put it down. “And how did you get this magic sand?”

Mystia cleared her throat. “It's a trade secret. Sorry.”

“Hm. Of course.” Rinnosuke rubbed his chin. He saw an opportunity take shape. “You know what? I'm going to help you out. I'll recommend people stop by here.”

Mystia's eyes widened. “What? Really?”

“Of course,” Rinnosuke smiled. “It's not easy starting a new business. I admire your entrepreneurial spirit.” He picked up the same bag he'd inspected before. “May I have one? How much?”

Mystia and Wriggle froze. They hadn't actually thought of a price. Rinnosuke reached into his pocket, dropping a one yen coin onto the cloth over the grill. He turned, walking away. “Good luck, you two,” he called back. This ought to be fun, he thought to himself.

3.

The next day, Rinnosuke paid a visit to the human village. He brought up Mystia's magic sand frequently in conversation. As outlandish as Mystia's claims of the sand's power were, Rinnosuke offered that at one yen a piece, it wouldn't hurt to try it. Worse thing that happens is, it doesn't work, he'd say. Which is what he imagined would happen, as one person after the next would invariably ask for their money back, teaching Mystia a little lesson in swindling people. At Rinnosuke's recommendation, dozens of people visited Mystia's stand.

Mystia couldn't believe how well business was doing. She and Wriggle spent the first few nights digging sand until dawn, busy making the little pouches of sand under the stars.

And then business began to really pick up.

Much to Rinnosuke's surprise, people began to claim that the sand worked. Headache gone, stomach calmed, dandruff cured – all because of the sand. He couldn't believe it. Did it actually have magical properties? Did that stupid sparrow stumble upon it due to sheer luck? Stranger things have happened in Gensokyo, he had to admit. Still, he had to be sure.

4.

Marisa stood outside her home one afternoon, airing out a blanket, flapping it in the air with both hands. She'd had a lot of free time lately, and got bored enough to give her place a cleaning. She smiled, a bit relieved, to see Rinnosuke approaching.

“Hey there, Rinnosuke!” Marisa said, letting the blanket drop. “What brings you by?”

Rinnosuke took the bag of sand from his pocket, holding it out for Marisa. “Mystia has been selling these. It's supposed to be magic sand.”

“Magic sand, eh?” Marisa smiled, snapping it up. “Hm.” She smelled it, then opened it, looking inside. She shrugged. “Looks like regular ol' sand.”

“Would you mind … checking it?”

“Check to see if it's magic? Sure, I've got nothing better to do. What's it supposed to do?”

Rinnosuke sighed. “It's supposed to be a type of medicine. Cures an array of symptoms.”

Marisa chuckled, looking into the bag. “So Mystia's still a con artist.”

“Well, probably. But you know, I'd like to be sure.”

Marisa considered Rinnosuke a moment. He rubbed his nose.

“Why do you care, hm?” Marisa asked, smirking. “People not buying your roots and berries?”

He folded his arms across his chest. “There has been a … not insignificant drop in sales in that area, yes.”

Marisa nodded. “Yeah, alright. I'll check it out. You head on back and do whatever it is you do all day.” With that, she turned, and went back in the house.

Rinnosuke watched the door close. Shaking his head, he turned and headed back to his shop.

5.

As Marisa had discovered, the sand had no magical properties whatsoever. It was just regular sand. She'd seen this happen before. When she was a girl, there was a man who claimed to have discovered a tree bark that could cure colds if you chewed it. One by one, more and more people began noticing that it worked, and soon they started looking for the trees themselves. When the miraculous healing trees were unfound, the man who sold the bark confessed that it had been a hoax.

Mystia was trying to do the same thing with her sand. It boggled Marisa's mind just how short-sighted the idea was, but she wasn't surprised by the source. Neither was Rinnosuke to hear it. Mystia's comeuppance is going to be sweet, he mused.

And yet as the week passed, the number of customers only built and built. At first, Mystia was delighted, but as demand grew, so did she and Wriggle lose more and more sleep, digging into the sand of the Misty Lake for hours on end. Her back ached from the work. Her nerves frayed from lack of rest. Their clandestine operations were starting to leave a dent in the sand about half a meter deep and a meter wide.

She knew it was only a matter of time before this had to end. And then what? When she was able to catch an hour or two of sleep, she dreamed of angry mobs of people, chasing her.

Mystia had to sneak out of this situation somehow. After giving the matter some thought, she decided she would again ask for Rinnosuke's help. Only this time, to tell people that the sand was all finished, and that was that. Mystia would lay low for a while, and try to come up with another idea. The matter decided, she made off for Rinnosuke's. Being human, Mystia reckoned he lived in the human village.

On the outskirts of the village, early in the evening, Mystia moved furtively behind the trees, eyeing up the houses and shops for any sign of Rinnosuke. She didn't see him, and couldn't read any of the signs. She made her way into the village center, looking around.

“There she is!” a voice called from behind her. She spun around, startled, and saw five men standing in front of a noodle stand.

“That's the youkai I was telling you about,” said one of the men to the others. “The one who sold me that sand that got rid of my bad back.” They looked at her, impressed, and began to approach.

“Where's it come from?” asked one of the men.

Mystia laughed nervously. “It's a trade secret, ha. Sorry.”

“Come on,” said another. “Tell us. It's not fair. Why should you be the only one to know?”

“Yeah,” the one with the bad back added, his tone hardening a little. “Who are you to stand in the way? People get sick, you know.”

Mystia could feel her heart pounding. If she ran, she knew the whole village would be after her within minutes. Her eyes darted around.

“OK, a- alright!” she stammered. “Listen, it's … it's just regular sand.”

The men stopped. A stray dog barked somewhere.

“What do you mean?” asked the man with the bad back, his eyes cold. They began to approach her again. Mystia could feel her wings beginning to tense up for flight. Fear pounded in her veins.

Marisa stepped up from behind Mystia. “She uses special youkai powers,” the magician said. Mystia turned, looking up at her with a pleading expression.

The men stopped. “Youkai powers?” asked one.

“Yep,” confirmed Marisa with a nod. “She takes ordinary sand, holds it, and shines her special magic youkai power light into it, and just like that – it's magic sand.”

The men appeared incredulous for a moment. Marisa leaned against her broom, smiling. Mystia could feel her stomach trying to curl up into a tiny ball.

“Oh,” said one of the men at last, cautiously. “I … don't really know anything about youkai. But you know your stuff, so …” Mystia could feel every nerve in her body relax. She looked at Marisa. The magician really did have a good heart after all. A smile grew across the sparrow's face. The man reached into his pocket, taking out an iron key, he held it out to Mystia. “Show us.”

Mystia looked at the key, then looked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Make the key magic,” he said matter-of-factly. “Make it do what the sand does.”

Marisa put a hand on Mystia's shoulder. “Well, night sparrow, this bird's gotta fly.” She mounted her broom. “You have a really, really good evening, hear? See ya!”

Mystia watched as Marisa zipped off into the sky. She turned back to the man with the key. Marisa Kirisame, Mystia thought, reaching for the key, I will get you for this.

(Image: Pixiv)

Best Friends Forever, or, Why Wriggle Wears Shorts and Not a Skirt

Keine and Mokou were sitting together by the edge of the Bamboo Forest one night, the moon three-quarters full.

“It's been a pretty crazy summer,” said Mokou. “Can't believe it's finally over.”

“You can say that again,” sighed Keine. “For a while there I was this close to erasing a fairly large chunk of history.”

“That incident in July? With the wasps?”

“That, and the ants.”

“Oh yes … the ants. What a lot of fun that was, strafing half the countryside to burn out all the anthills,” chuckled Mokou. “Seriously, I enjoyed that.”

“It would have been nice if you told us ahead of time, by the way. The humans in the village have seen a lot of things, to be sure. But even so you don't expect a raining hell of columns of fire to come pouring down from the sky in the middle of the night.” Keine cleared her throat. “Necessarily.”

“They were pretty scared, weren't they?” Mokou smiled. “Running around aimlessly, screaming. Terrified for their lives. Heh. Anyway, what's for dinner?”

“Ah right,” Keine sat up, “Well, I decided to bring-”

She stopped, and held up her hand, listening. Then they both heard it: the whistling, the same, asinine tune as always.

“Oh no,” whispered Keine. Mokou groaned, whispering back, “How does she always know?”

“I don't know,” sighed Keine. “Alright, just humor her, she goes away sooner if you pretend to listen.”

“Yeah.”

Mystia floated down from the sky, landing before them. “Hey, Keine. Hey, Mokou.” she chirped happily. “What are you guys doing here?”

Mokou bit her tongue. Why do we go through this?

“We were just talking about Mokou's attack on the ants.” Keine said flatly.

“Oh, right. I didn't see that. Hey! Wanna see what I can do?”

Mokou shrugged. Neither said anything. Regardless, Mystia took a couple steps back.

“Ready?” she beamed. “OK!” Then Mystia began to dance, very enthusiastically. Her elbows and knees stabbed the air as she stamped clumsily, occasionally giving it a spin, her smile frozen on her face. Mokou and Keine watched expressionlessly. They'd seen this routine six times already in the past weel alone.

At long last, Mystia made one final spin as she jumped in the air, and then landed in a split, her hands held up high, triumphantly. She panted, out of breath, waiting to get a reaction, her eyes wide with expectation. Keine cleared her throat. “That's … very nice, Mystia, but you've shown us that routine already. A few times.”

“This is kind of embarrassing,” said Mokou.

“Alright, well, I'm still practicing. And I think I'm making progress,” Mystia pouted. “Anyway you're maybe just a little bit jealous. What kind of dancing can you do in those overalls?”

“Eh? Overalls?” asked Mokou, sitting up a little straighter. “Excuse me?”

Keine held up her hands. “You two, I really think-”

“I don't have to wear a skirt like everyone else around here, you know.” Mokou fumed. “I have my reasons.”

“You can't dance.” smirked Mystia.

“What is wrong with you? No. It has nothing to do with dancing.”

“Suuure it doesn't.”

Keine broke in, “Mystia, Mokou's right. And you should respect her position. There's no dress code around here.”

“Yeah, seriously, do you give Wriggle a hard time because of her short pants?” Mokou asked.

“Well no. Wriggle has a very good reason for not wearing a skirt. And I mean a very good reason.”

Mystia smiled conspiratorially. Keine and Mokou sat in silence, waiting. After a few beats it became apparent that Mystia was waiting to be prompted.

“Well?” asked Keine. “What is it?”

“I can't tell you,” Mystia answered happily.

“Oh you have to tell us now,” said Mokou. “You don't just say something like that.”

“Well I promised.”

“OK then.” Keine said, and crossed her arms.

Mystia looked a little surprised. “Well … OK then … “ she said warily. “Have a good night!” and flew off.

Keine sighed, and said, “Anyway, for dinner I brought-”

“You know we're going to see Wriggle, right?,” Mokou cut in. “Now I have to know.”

“You can't be serious. Mystia was probably just lying to impress us, like she knew something we didn't. Think about who were dealing with here.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Mokou, and smiled, “Wouldn't hurt to find out, though, would it?”

“I guess not. Seeing as how you're going to insist anyway.” Keine smiled back.

2.

Wriggle stretched out her legs as she leaned back against a tree. “Ah, alone at last,” she smiled, reaching into a small satchel at her side, and taking out her copy of Cities of the Red Night. “Mmm … space travel,” she giggled happily.

Mokou and Keine dropped down from the sky, landing at her feet. Wriggle sat up, startled.

“Uh, hey, you two. H-How's it going?,” she asked with forced nonchalance as her mind raced to figure out what she could have possibly done wrong.

“Oh, not much,” smiled Keine, “We were just passing through, you know, and-”

“We want to know why you wear shorts,” Mokou cut in.

Wriggle blinked, looking at one and then the other. “W-Why do you wanna know that? What do you care, huh?” Her tone turning defensive, “And what about you, Mokou? How come you wear pants, huh?”

“Because I have horrible, ghastly scars all over my body,” Mokou shrugged. “Everyone knows that.”

“Oh.”

“Look, Wriggle,” began Keine, kneeling next to Wriggle, “we were just curious. If you don't want to-”

“Well? Spill it,” Mokou cut in again. “We're not leaving until you tell us.”

Wriggle blushed, squirming, hesitant. Mokou grinned.

“Is it because … you're not really a girl? Hmm?,” she teased. “Afraid you'll be flying along, and someone'll look up and notice a suspicious bulge in your bloomers?”

“What?!,” snapped Wriggle, blushing a deep crimson, “Of course not! I'm a girl!”

“Oh yeah? Well, I'm not gonna take your word for it.” Mokou pounced on Wriggle, gripping at the waistband of her shorts.

“Aaah! Get off me, you pervert!” Wriggle struggled, but it was clear Mokou was much stronger. The button of Wriggle's shorts popped off. Keine had to intervene.

“Mokou! Stop it. What is wrong with you?” Mokou paused, still holding onto Wriggle's shorts. Wriggle panted, wiping tears from her eyes, pushing Mokou.

“Get off me!” she snapped. “Gosh. I'll tell you, alright? It's not even that big a deal.”

Mokou got off of Wriggle, and sat besides Keine. “Sorry,” she mumbled, looking at Keine.

“Alright,” said Wriggle. “The thing is, I have … a tattoo. On my right thigh. It's nothing, really, but it's pretty obvious, and I got it a long time ago, when I was young and having a phase. I'm over it. I just don't want to keep answering, 'Hey, Wriggle, what's that on your leg? Hey, Wriggle, why'd you get that on your leg? Hey, Wriggle, blablabla I'm a stupid stupidhead.' That's all. There. Happy now?”

Keine and Mokou both looked pretty surprised. Then Mokou started laughing.

“A tattoo, Wriggle?,” asked Keine, confused. “You? Of all people?”

“I said I was young. And I was hanging out with the wrong crowd.”

“I have to see it,” said Mokou between laughs. “Seriously, you have to show it to us now.”

“I have to say I'm pretty curious myself,” Keine admitted.

“Please no!” Wriggle begged. “Please don't make me do it! Seriously, it's really embarrassing.”

“Wriggle,” Mokou smirked. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. And you don't want the hard way. Remember the ants.”

“The ants,” Keine agreed, nodding.

Wriggle realized there was no way out. She had no choice. Slowly, she stood, and pulled up the right leg of her shorts. Keine and Mokou watched with rapt attention, then gasped simultaneously.

Wriggle's tattoo was done on the inside of her right thigh, almost completely covering it. It was Flandre, riding a kirin, which was bucking up on its hind legs, while Flandre held Lævateinn aloft, and appeared to be pointed it at Wriggle's crotch. Above the image of Flandre was an unfurled scroll, on which was written “MY BEST FRIEND”, and beneath it was another unfurled scroll, on which was written, “IS TOTALLY COMPLETELY AMAZINGLY COOL AND I LOVE HER SO MUCH FOREVER AND EVER”.

“Oh my,” murmured Keine.

Mokou considered the image for a moment. “What's that coming out of Flandre's eyes?”

“Lightning,” Wriggle mumbled.

Mokou snickered, then burst into laughter.

“It's not funny!” Wriggle cried. “I was a totally different person back then.”

“Yes, stop it, Mokou,” said Keine, even though she was laughing herself. Then she paused, thinking. “Wait, I don't understand. Since when are you and Flandre friends?”

3.

20 Years Ago

“JUH-juh-uh-JUH-juh-uh-JUH-juh-uh-JUH-juh-uh-JUH! JUH! JUH!” Flandre jumped up and down on Remilia's bed, singing, while Wriggle stood beside the bed, fists clenched, enthralled. Flandre is so cool, she thought. Wriggle's eyes shone as she watched Flandre jumping, laughing gleefully. Flandre doesn't care what anyone thinks. She's not stuck up like her older sister, or tightly wound like the maid. She wouldn't cry if she got teased by other youkai for playing with bugs. She'd fight back if they threw mudballs at her and called her names like "Spittle Roach Butt". That's just how cool she is.

“JUHJUHJUHJUUUUH-juhjuhjuh!” Flandre concluded her song.

“Alright!” cheered Wriggle. “That was awesome!”

Flandre shrugged. “Yeah. Comes pretty natural to me, really. I dunno. Sometimes I'll be just sitting there while Remi's talking to me and all I hear is bssssshhhhhhhhhhhh.”

“Bssssssshhhhhhh! Haha. That's so her.”

“I know. She can be so …” Flandre, at a loss for words, put her hand under her armpit and started making fart sounds. Wriggle started laughing so hard she doubled over. She could never get the same sound Flandre could, no matter how many times she showed her how to do it.

“Oh wow that is so funny. Stop it, Flandre, please. Stop!” Wriggle gasped.

“Yes, do.” Sakuya sighed, entering the room. “And what are you doing up here anyway? You know how your sister feels about-”

Flandre belched loudly, causing Wriggle to laugh again. Sakuya rolled her eyes.

“Yes. Hundreds of years old and you still have the mind of a child.”

“I am not a child!” Flandre shouted. “I'm older than you.”

“Well, if you acted like an adult, maybe you'd get treated like one,” Sakuya replied. I'm even starting to bore myself with as many times as I've said that, she thought.

“Whatever.” Flandre hopped down from the bed. “C'mon, Wriggle. Let's leave the domestic help to do her chores.”

“Yeah,” Wriggle scoffed. The two of them stomped out of the room.

Sakuya watched them leave. I should probably tell Remilia that Flandre is probably leaving the mansion to do who knows what, she thought. But then again, it'll probably be me sent after her. In which case, no thanks.



“This place is so boring,” groaned Flandre, kicking a rock as she and Wriggle walked through the Forest of Magic. “Nothing ever happens here. Like ever.”

Wriggle snorted in agreement. “Totally.” Normally, she'd be keeping an eye out for the youkai who enjoyed bullying her. But with Flandre around, she walked tall. She looked at Flandre and smiled. It would be so incredible to be Flandre, she thought. She isn't afraid of anything.

“Hey, I know,” said Flandre, with a wicked grin on her face. “Why don't we visit Alice?”

“Really? Why? She's so ...” Wriggle tried to make the fart noises with her hand under her armpit, but instead it made a weak clapping sound. This embarrassed her deeply, but Flandre didn't seem to be paying attention anyway.

“C'mon,” said Flandre, beaming, and started off in the direction of Alice's house. “Let's have some fun.”



Alice was stitching together a doll with loving care. It had been a long day, and this was her way of unwinding. Windchimes gently twinkled in the window, as soothing sandlewood incense wafted through her home. A few candles bathed the room in a warm light. It was good to be able to relax.

“Heya, Alice!” Flandre barked loudly as she threw the door open, startling Alice, the point of her needle pricking her thumb. Flandre and Wriggle both burst into laughter. Alice rolled her eyes.

“Oh. It's you two,” she said flatly, putting down the doll. “And why do I deserve the pleasure of your company today?”

“Ah, ya know,” Flandre said coquettishly, walking casually towards Alice. “We were just in the neighborhood and thought we'd pop by to-”

“I don't have any treats today,” Alice interrupted.

“Oh.” Flandre remarked, crestfallen. “Really? You don't?”

“No. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm very busy right now, so unless you have a doll-related question, I'm going to have to see you two another time.”

Wriggle and Flandre looked at each other. Doll related? What did that even mean?

“Well, um, I have a question,” said Wriggle.

“Yes Wriggle?”

Wriggle stood there, smiling blankly. Alice regarded her, vaguely annoyed. A few seconds passed.

“Sorry,” said Wriggle. “That was a lie.”

Alice sighed. “Right. Well, that was entertaining. Look, I really-”

“I wanna know something,” Flandre piped up. “How do tattoos work?”

Alice looked at her as if she were trying to make up her mind about something. At last, she folded her hands on her workbench, clearing her throat. “Well, Flandre, a tattoo is made by using a very sharp and thin needle. You dip it in ink, and then pierce the skin. This leaves a tiny drop of ink in the skin. If you make a series of tiny drops in a row, you get a line. In this way, you can make designs in the skin. Colored inks are often used as well.”

Flandre nodded. Wriggle looked at her, waiting for the joke, smiling anxiously.

“Do they wash off?” Flandre asked at last.

“No, they do not. But in humans, as the skin relaxes with old age, the lines can become a bit thicker, and blurry.”

“What about youkai?”

“I honestly don't know any youkai who-”

“And vampires?”

Alice paused. “Flandre, are you thinking of getting a tattoo?”

Wriggle gasped, her eyes widening with admiration. Flandre is so cool!

“I dunno,” Flandre shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe. Maybe not. What's it to you?”

At that moment, an idea occurred to Alice. A perfectly wicked idea.

“Well, Flandre, it just so happens I know how to give tattoos. But, if you're still undecided ...”

Flandre and Wriggle turned to each other in wide-eyed excitement.

“You have to give me one!” Flandre beamed.

“Me too!” said Wriggle.

“Really?” Alice smirked “Are you sure? I mean, a tattoo is forever. Now, I know you're not at all someone who'd act on sheer impulse, so I do hope you-”

“I'm sure!” said Flandre.

“Me too!” Wriggle echoed.

Alice folded her arms across her chest. “Very well then. I'll give you both tattoos. On one condition: you can decide what you want a tattoo of, but I get to decide where I put it. Deal?”

“Deal!” Flandre and Wriggle both piped up together.

“Very well then,” Alice said, standing, suppressing the urge to chuckle. “Come with me. Flandre, you're first.”

“Yes!” Flandre cheered, both of them practically shaking with excitement. “This is going to be so amazing!”

4.

At this point in the story, Wriggle stopped, and bowed her head.

“Well? So what happened?” asked Mokou impatiently.

Wriggle looked up at Mokou and Keine with pleading eyes. A smile slowly spread across Keine's face.

“Ooooh. I get it,” Keine nodded. “Our little rebel got her heart broken when Flandre didn't get a tattoo of her.”

“You guys are mean!” Wriggle pouted. “You're not going to tell anyone, are you?”

“Oh, Wriggle. Don't worry," said Mokou. "I'd rather forget I ever saw that ... thing.”

“Same here,” echoed Keine. “That thing's pretty hideous.” Keine considered a moment. “So what did Flandre get?”

“If I tell you have to promise never to tell Flandre I told you, OK? Because Alice did a very bad thing. I hate her.” She gave the ground a little punch for emphasis.

“Sure, I promise,” Mokou smirked. “It couldn't have been worse than that.”

“I promise, too.” Keine added.

“Alright,” Wriggle sighed. “Well, Flandre told Alice she wanted a tattoo of a hand on fire. And Alice said she wanted to put it on her back.”

Mokou and Keine waited for her to continue.

“Well that doesn't sound so bad.” Keine shrugged. “A little corny, maybe, but nothing like that … thing you showed us.”

“Only the thing is,” Wriggle continued, “Alice didn't make what Flandre asked for.”

“Oooh,” Mokou grinned. “Right, Flandre couldn't see it if it's on her back. You could do anything, and by the time you saw the tattoo, it'd be too late. Niiice.”

“Oh no,” Keine's eyes widened. “Well, what did Alice do?”

Wriggle cleared her throat, bowing her head. "She drew a kitten hanging from a tree branch, and wrote Hang In There - It's Almost Friday under it."

"Ouch," snickered Mokou. "Way too cute for Flandre."

"That was probably the point," remarked Keine. "Not too bad."

“I guess,” Wriggle mumbled. “Flandre got back at her and all. Broke in her house in the middle of a dinner party and started trashing the place, scaring the guests out. Don't think it bothered Alice that much. I mean, you can clean up a house, you know? A tattoo, though. That's forever.”

“As you know all too well,” Mokou smirked, patting Wriggle on the head condescendingly. “Well, thanks, Wriggle. That's all we wanted to know. Later on.”

Mokou started walking away. Keine looked at her, then turned to Wriggle. She looked at her piteously for a moment, then crouched down, and whispered in her ear, “I think you're very brave, Wriggle,” Keine smiled at her, and Wriggle blushed, smiling weakly back. She nodded her thank-you. Then Keine stood and caught up with Mokou.

Wriggle lay back against the tree, looking up at the stars, listening to the chirping of the crickets. She smiled contentedly. Keine is so cool, she thought to herself.

(Image source: Pixiv)

Down On the Corner

Rinnosuke sat in his shop one afternoon, flipping disinterestedly through Bunbunmaru newspaper.

“Blah blah blah … man, there's nothing in this thing. It's like the tengu isn't even trying to make anything up anymore. This is all … just regular news.” Rinnosuke sighed. “Well, might as well try and straighten up around here a little.”

Stepping out from behind the counter, he looked at the cluttered shelves, the tables piled high with books, toys, and various bric-a-brac. He shook his head at the state of things. How did he let it get away from him like this?

Well, nothing to it but to do it, he decided. The first thing to do, he figured, would be to make some floor space for sorting things. So he took hold of one side of a table and began to push it towards the wall, but it was quite a struggle from the weight of thing.

Cirno happily jaunted in. “Hiya, old man!” she chirped with a wave of her hand. “Ya need any help today?”

Rinnosuke sighed again. Lately Cirno had been stopping by out of sheer boredom, hanging out for hours on end, talking and talking, about nothing at all, under the guise of “helping around the shop”.

“No, thank you, Cirno, I think I can manage.”

“Nuh uh,” said Cirno teasingly, “You can't even move that table by yourself. Lemme give ya a hand.” She stepped towards the table.

“No, really, Cirno, it's alright,” insisted Rinnosuke, annoyed.

“Ah c'mon,” she whined, “I'm the strongest in Gensokyo. Lemme do it.” Taking hold of a corner of the table, she began to push it anyway.

“Fine.” said Rinnosuke, walking away, “You can do it yourself then.” He stepped behind the counter, and walked through the curtains to his room.

“You got it, old man!” piped Cirno, and gripped the table corner with grim determination. “Alright table. You met your match now!”

Cirno began to push, but it was heavier than she thought. “Urgh. Gonna be difficult, eh? Well, we'll see about that!” Putting more of her weight into it, the table moved a little. Encouraged, Cirno moved closer to the table corner, leaning her body against it, and pushed. The table groaned as it scraped across the floor surface.

Cirno stopped. What was this sensation she felt, where the table corner pressed against her, between her legs? She pushed again.

“Oh wow,” she gasped. It felt kind of good. Cautiously, she started to rub her crotch against the corner of the table. It started to feel even better.

“What's this?” she giggled. “What's this?! Ahahahaha!”

Cirno rubbed her crotch against the table corner faster. She could not believe how good this felt. What an amazing discovery. She'd never seen anyone else do this before, or even talk about it. Could it be that she, the one everyone in Gensokyo teased as being stupid, had discovered something no one else knew about it? This made her even more excited. She rubbed faster, harder, the pleasure growing.

“R-Rinnosuke!” she called out. “C'm'ere! You gotta see this!”

Rinnosuke stepped slowly out from behind the curtains. “What is it this time, Cir-” and stopped in his tracks, stunned, watching Cirno furiously rubbing her crotch against the corner of the table.

“You got to try this!” Cirno beamed, her face flushed. “It feels amaaaaaazing.”

Rinnosuke turned bright red. She might be as old as an elderly human, but in her mind she's like a child. I can't scold her for this, he thought. She doesn't know any better.

“Uh, Cirno, um, I just remembered I …. have an appointment. Yes. So I need to close the shop.”

Cirno kept riding the table corner, faster. “Now? Right now?” Her eyes pleaded in protest.

“Right now.” Rinnosuke stammered, “So get out. Now.”

“But-”

“Out!”

Cirno let go of the table, panting. “Fine” she pouted. Rinnosuke escorted her to the door, practically shoving her out, and locked the door behind her.

Cirno stood in the afternoon light, her crotch throbbing, tingling. The old man was too wrapped up in his own affairs to even acknowledge her amazing discovery. No one would believe her if she told them. Well, almost no one. Mystia might. She'd have to show her this. She smiled when she realized this, but then remembered the shop was closed, for who knows how long. Last time it was closed for a week. She cursed the situation. I can't wait that long, she decided. I have to find some other place that has a table. Determined to show off her discovery, she flew off into the sky.

2.

Mystia and Cirno flew towards Hakurei Shrine that evening. As luck would have it, Cirno saw that Reimu was just leaving, on her way into the woods.

“Perfect,” giggled Cirno. “That lazy shrine maiden won't try and challenge me.”

Mystia only tagged along because she had nothing better to do, but was still trepidacious. “Um, what exactly are we doing here, anyway?”

“You'll see,” grinned Cirno, and flew down to the shrine. Mystia followed. They landed deftly on the front steps. Mystia looked around cautiously. She'd seen Reimu leave, but she was still worried about being caught.

“Cirno,” she whispered, “We really shouldn't be here. We could get in big trouble!”

“Oh shush,” chided Cirno. “You're such a baby.”

“You're the baby!”

“Am not! You are!”

“You are!”

Cirno sighed. “Look, we won't be long, alright? Stop worrying.”

“Fine.” Mystia looked around her again. “So, what did you want to show me, anyway?”

Cirno smiled conspiratorily, and stepped up to the donation box. “Watch.”

Cirno took hold of the corner of the donation box, and started to rub her crotch against it. This felt even better than the table! But why? Maybe because of the wooden studs around the edge? She didn't care. She rubbed faster.

Mystia watched, confused. “What are you doing?” Then she looked terrified. “Wait, you're not trying to steal the donation box, are you? I mean, you know there's nothing in that thing.”

“I'm … not trying to … steal it,” Cirno stammered between breaths. “It feels good! C'mon, try it.”

“What?”

“Just try it! You'll see.”

Wary, Mystia approached the opposite corner of the donation box. “OK ...” She took hold of the corner, and imitated Cirno, tentatively rubbing her crotch against the corner.

“Do it faster,” encouraged Cirno.

Mystia moved faster. Her eyes widened with surprise. “Oh wow.”

“I know!”

“This is … wow … “ Mystia rubbed against the corner with greater vigor. “This is reeeally nice.”

“Mhmm!”

Together, the two of them gripped either side of the donation box as they rubbed their crotches against opposite corners, panting.

“Cirno,” breathed Mystia, an ecstatic grin on her face, “You … are … a genius.”

Cirno beamed. She was a genius, she really was. Soon everyone in Gensokyo would respect her. No one would tease her anymore.

Reimu stepped out of the woods, having forgotten to bring the ribbons Marisa asked for, and noticed shadows moving in front of the shrine. Where the donation box is – thieves! Furious, Reimu decided to surprise them. Stepping back into the woods, she circled around, behind the shrine. The nerve, she fumed. I step away for one minute, and some dirty thieves come and try and rob me. Quietly, she stalked into the rear entrance, stepping gingerly across the floor. She could hear the thieves panting, struggling to lift the donation box. Their silhouettes showed from behind the screen. Weaklings, she smirked. This is going to be fun. She approached the screen, took hold of the edge, and slowly slid it open.

There are plenty of things Reimu had seen in her life. She'd watched a red mist cover Gensokyo. She'd seen the real moon replaced by a fake one. She'd even seen a crow swallow a sun and turn into a maniac hell-bent on conquering. But until she saw a night sparrow and an ice fairy each simultaneously having sexual relations with her donation box, she thought she'd seen it all. This, this right here – this was too much.

Reimu slammed the screen open. Cirno and Mystia froze and gasped, still gripping the box. Time seemed to stop. Somewhere in the woods, a frog croaked.

Reimu, bright red with embarrassment and anger, shaking, took a deep breath and bellowed, “W-What the hell are you perverts doing?!”

“We- We were just-” Mystia began, but there was no time for words. Reimu had already spun, and produced a spell card.

“Shameful Arts 「Omnidirectional Pervert Slaying Circle」!” Reimu declared, and let loose with a barrage of danmaku the likes of which they'd never seen. They never had a chance. Mystia and Cirno were blown into the woods with the power of Reimu's anger, utterly defeated.

“Waaah!” Mystia cried. “Cirno you dummy! I knew we were going to get caught.”

“Shut up,” Cirno grumbled. “You're such a baby.”

“I am not!”

Cirno sighed. Now what was she going to do?

3.

“Wow” said Marisa, and took another sip of tea. “That's pretty disturbing.”

“I know,” sighed Reimu, sitting on the floor, resting her head against her wall. “I had that spellcard saved for the tengu. I never thought I'd have to use it on those two.”

“Yeah, that is pretty … wow. Are you sure they were-”

“They were. Like dogs in heat.”

Marisa gave a low whistle, then shook her head. “How on earth did they … I mean, how did they decide to … I … I'm speechless.”

Reimu sighed, and took a sip of tea. “It can't be helped. I guess they're growing up.”

Marisa nodded. “Yeah, I guess so, ze. But I mean, I never … you know … like that. Did you?”

Reimu blushed deep red. “W-What? No, of course not! A shrine maiden doesn't … ugh.”

“This is pretty awkward.”

“Yeah.”

“I'm not going to be able to look at those two the same.”

“Me neither. Or my donation box. My poor, poor donation box.”

Marisa and Reimu sat in silence for a few beats. Marisa thought about it. “You know what I used to do?” she said, a mischievous smile on her face.

Reimu closed her eyes and held up her hand. “I don't even want to know. Please. I've had enough perverts for one day.”

Marisa chuckled. “Jeez, you're such a prude, ze. Lighten up.” Marisa thought some more about it. And then she got an idea. A wonderful, terrible idea. She stood up. “Well, I'm gonna get going. Catch ya later, ze.”

Reimu nodded, still in shock. Marisa chuckled to herself as she flew off. For a girl who's gone head-to-head with goddesses, she sure is easy to rattle.

Marisa flew over the treetops for the Misty Lake.

Cirno gave up. Slumping down on the ground, she frowned at the tree stump, and gave it a frustrated kick. It just wasn't the same. She had to have the donation box. But Reimu was so angry at her. Why? She wondered. Why was Reimu so mean? I wasn't hurting anyone. I wasn't trying to steal the donation box. So why did she attack me? Why is everyone so mean to me?

Cirno could feel tears welling up, and wiped them from her eyes with the back of her hand. She wanted to run away and not see anyone, ever again.

Cirno stood up, brushing the pieces of bark from her dress. Stupid tree stump.

She heard something drop with a thud behind her. Quickly, she turned around, and saw Marisa there, smiling. Cirno was struck with panic, but wasn't about to show it.

“Marisa,” she mumbled. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, ya know, just payin' a visit, ze,” she said, stepping closer.

“Back off!” Cirno growled. “I-I'll fight you, you know! I'm not afraid of you.”

Marisa laughed casually. “Cirno, relax. I'm not gonna hurt you, alright? I wanna talk with you.”

Cirno paused. Marisa seemed to mean it. But could she trust her? “W-What about?”

“Look, uh” Marisa rubbed the back of her neck with embarrassment “Hm, how should I put this? Well, I uh talked to Reimu. About what you and Mystia were doing.”

“OK …?” Cirno paused. “Are we in trouble?”

Marisa shook her head. “No, you're not in trouble. What you guys were doing is … well, it's natural, ze. Ya see ...” Marisa put her hand on Cirno's shoulder, comfortingly. “Hm. Never thought I'd have this talk with you. Heh. Well, you're growing up. Alright? And when you grow up, you start to get these … urges. That's what that … stuff you were doing was about. Satisfying urges.”

Cirno looked aghast. “You mean … I didn't think that up myself?”

Marisa blinked. That's what she's concerned about? “Well, I mean, touching yourself … there … starts to feel good when you grow up. So plenty of people do it. But I gotta admit I'd never seen or heard of anyone doing it that way before, so in a way, yeah, I guess you could say you thought it up yourself.” Marisa ruffled Cirno's hair. “Not so dumb after all, are ya, ze?”

Cirno blushed, but couldn't help but smile. “I told you guys I was smart.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway. You think that feels good?” Marisa grinned wickedly, and then held up the end of her broom. “Wait'll ya try this.”

4.

“You did what?!” gasped Reimu. She slumped down on the top steps of the shrine, pale, her jaw dropped open.

Marisa still couldn't stop laughing, stretching her legs out on the steps as she leaned back and smiled. “I showed her my way, that's all, ze. What's the big deal?”

“I can't believe I'm hearing this.” Reimu mumbled, her eyes staring into space, unblinking.

“Ah, c'mon. Not everyone's like you, ya know.”

Reimu glared at Marisa. “Maybe more people should be.”

Marisa waved at her dismissively. “She loved it. Loved. It. She said she couldn't wait to show Mystia.”

Reimu shuddered, then looked at Marisa's broom, deplored. “Oh. Oh no. That's not the same one you-”

“Nah,” smiled Marisa “I let her have that one. This is a different one. I got like twenty of these things at home, ze. You don't think I fly with the same one all the time, do you?”

“Well, no, I guess that-”

“And look at it this way: they won't be back to molest your donation box again. So it's a blessing, really, ze.”

Reimu sighed. “I suppose. Still …” she shook her head, staring into the woods. Why was everyone around her so weird? “But Marisa … you? I never thought you'd … ugh, I don't even want to think about it.”

“You sure?” Marisa teased. “You could stand to loosen up, ya know. It'd be my pleasure to show you-”

“Get out.”

“I mean, probably more like your pleasure-”

“Out!”

“Trust me, it's like sake. Once you have a taste you can never-”

“GET! OUT!” Reimu shrieked, plugging her ears with her fingers.

“Alright, alright, don't get so bent outta shape, ze” Marisa stood. “Jeez. Some people.” She mounted her broom and flew off. “See ya!”

Reimu stared into the woods. Sake isn't a bad idea right now, she decided. Whatever it takes to forget this day ever happened.

(Photo credit: Danbooru)