Chapter Text
Note thirty.
Preparations have been completed. After a long “negotiation,” the leader of the youkai from the Kamu clan finally accepted my conditions, and, in a matter of days, will sign a contract granting me full access to the Forest of Magic.
After starving them for twenty days and negating any attempt at food foraging, I have succeeded.
But, as their tradition dictates, I must wait until nightfall.
Extra notes.
Magic barriers are still holding at seventy percent; claws and jaws are still ineffective against them. That person is currently working on a different, combat-focused prototype.
The perimeter is around 5.7 TMU, which, translated into human metrics, would be around twenty kilometers.
Food chains are currently blocked, and no shrine maiden has successfully stopped my puppets.
…
… …
Update: the barrier has been broken.
Said puppets—all of them—have been knocked out of my control.
All by a single person.
“Reimu Hakurei.”
The ground, the trees—Brown as they could possibly be.
Shaped by restless steps, furious swipes,
the hunger, the panic—
I can only say that, in a way,
seeing such creatures in this deplorable state
brings a strange happiness to my being.
And I watch, as I walk through the barrier that keeps them trapped in this same spot.
The way their eyes reflect suppressed emotions instead of fear.
Beneath the skies, beneath the sun and moon…
I’m happy to extend a hand.
And while their hands extend, I feel my own eyelids being pulled away.
I wonder what my expression would be, if I could see it right now.
I imagine…
a grin, slightly lopsided—rounder on one end, while the other is sharper.
That would explain it—why there was a quiet unease, why some gazes judged me in silence.
The children took me for the culprit.
And rightfully so.
All I know is that the tension softened right away,
the moment I turned to them.
And I promised myself
that I would make sure they would never know hunger again.
But…
As the skies turned orange, and the moon peeked from the darkness,
suddenly, like strings from a spiderweb, everything snapped in quick succession.
My control was torn away in mere moments.
Even as I hurried through the forest, I only arrived for the aftermath.
Youkai knocked out on the ground,
the barriers I set pierced by countless needles.
And that shrine maiden in the air, both hands extended, her attack increasing in strength.
Maybe it was just me, but for a moment,
I really thought there was someone else around.
No… it was Reimu’s doing all along.
I pushed myself upward, ready to act.
But then I froze.
Because she noticed me.
Her eyes pierced through the forest and landed exactly where I was.
Her fingers clenched slightly, her needles slowing.
And in that moment, I chose to run.
Because I felt it deep in my soul—
a quiet sense of dread, unlike anything before.
Note thirty-three.
Stagnation…
I couldn’t bring myself to do anything for the next two days.
I only commanded the youkai to find out more about humanity as a whole.
I am currently working on just two projects:
that one creature,
and translating a human calendar into something usable.
But then again, communication is difficult. The routes I normally send scouts along are more dangerous than ever.
I’ve lost all contact with my pawn,
and the eye I had on that one workshop in the forest is gone.
I wonder…
Perhaps it was her again.
I can’t help but smile.
I really want to meet her again.
To learn more about this… Nusekawa Reimu.
And why she chose to bear the name Hakurei.
I will make her talk
I will make her.
Checking…
That’s what this page is for.
Managed to pull Reimu away.
Yes, I didn’t even need to work for it.
She often flies on her own, and she does so without a weapon on hand.
Getting her into a closed space—
also not an issue. All I needed was to be there, and she dropped down next to me.
“What are you plotting now?”
She interrupted me as I was starting my spiel.
I really, really had to laugh at that moment.
It truly took me by surprise—
not the comment.
I was terrified.
Yet she didn’t wait. That laughter was sensed as danger—
and she attacked.
Now I see just how unmatched I was in our first encounter.
I couldn’t track her with my eyes,
nor could I follow the sound.
I know she didn’t kill me at that moment, or take me out of combat…
because she feared the same thing would repeat.
Someone like her
fears me.
She is afraid of what I can do,
while here I am, smiling,
just thinking about whether it will be possible to return to my workshop.
I forgot what happened next.
I know it had something to do with that magician—
she happened to be there, and that's why I managed to escape.
In an attempt to help, she accidentally gave me the one opening.
I managed to land a single blow on her shoulder, leaving a bleeding wound,
and Reimu instantly shifted to shield her.
I left the place,
only noticing how quickly Reimu tied a bandage around that magician’s shoulder.
Did she understand what my ability does?
Maybe…
But that’s what I was missing.
I need a hostage.
Note thirty-seven.
I found an alternative.
At last, after a difficult week hunting the magician.
I must admit, the magician seems to be something out of the ordinary.
Not in the sense that she’s powerful, but in that she continues to slip past anything I throw at her.
Running comes as second nature to her.
An escape always seems to be within her grasp, even in the most dire of situations.
She adapts quickly to what I can do,
yet I know very well that she wouldn’t fare well against…
K̶i̶n̶g̶a̶m̶i̶ ̶M̶o̶h̶o̶k̶i̶
“That Person.”
It doesn’t matter.
I don’t need her help, as I have found a much more interesting target.
I managed to find a different link—
a youkai who specializes in camouflage.
Thanks to their efforts, I can finally say for certain:
only three human villages remain, and all are under the protection of the shrine.
The only humans truly born from this world…
After the actions of that I̶d̶i̶o̶t̶i̶c̶ ̶m̶a̶n̶i̶a̶c̶.̶
Her.
It seems correct.
I should go to sleep for a moment.
I never do.
…
I changed the fan on top of the workshop.
Did so during winter.
I’m feeling slower, and the silence lingers longer than I would like.
This pencil would be much easier to hold if I could simply make exhaustion disappear.
But I have to go on.
Side note.
I like the sound of tapping my pencil against the page.
A̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶t̶o̶p̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶d̶o̶o̶r̶.̶
Note —--_
Kingami waited at my door all night.
She arrived with a strange bean soup and what she called
carbonated disks.
She seems to be slowing down as well.
Our conversations more often than not end with her loud expressions shifting into a quiet frown.
It may be for the best,
but right now, it really was the closest thing to calm I’ve had in a while.
She offered to help.
I didn’t answer.
Side note
T̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶s̶e̶c̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶i̶r̶r̶e̶l̶e̶v̶a̶n̶t̶.̶
T̶h̶e̶ ̶e̶n̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶w̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶r̶e̶m̶o̶v̶e̶d̶.̶
Note thirty-nine.
Kingami brought me into the forest.
Somehow, and without a real plan, I found myself closer than I had imagined to the magician—
seated on the crown of a tree next to that fairy.
It was… strange.
Kingami seemed really invested in getting to know them,
to understand their behavior.
Nonsense, all of it.
I set myself to act, and thanks to Kingami’s efforts to stop me, they ran away.
Again, I can’t see why she would waste so much energy getting me close to my goal, only to do nothing.
She is exhausting.
And her smile broke again, even when I chose to remain silent this time.
We spent the night in my workshop,
but she left soon after, and I finally managed to sleep through the night.
Status.
My strength is coming back to me.
I may try to force another incident soon,
whenever that is.
Side note
A̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶r̶e̶v̶i̶e̶w̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶t̶e̶x̶t̶,̶
T̶h̶i̶r̶t̶y̶-̶e̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶u̶n̶n̶e̶c̶e̶s̶s̶a̶r̶y̶.̶
G̶e̶t̶ ̶r̶i̶d̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶i̶t̶.̶
Note forty-three.
She returned again,
this time with a different plan…
And a strange proposition.
The idea was to infiltrate a human village, for what I suspect was to gather information.
Kingami seemed… smaller than I remember.
It might have been the optical lenses I was forced to wear, but she really seemed nervous overall.
It might have to do with the lack of her armor—the pattern of her returning and looking back toward the mountain repeated again and again after each small interaction.
I can tell.
After a moment of focus, I noticed it as well—behind me, in the same direction she kept looking.
She did share and talk with the locals, exchanging some food and goods for items.
Humans really have strange fixations, from small statues to useless fabrics.
I must say,
I was amazed at how gullible they are. Even when directly in front of a youkai, they couldn’t distinguish me from their own.
Neither my height nor my posture gave away my identity.
Kingami’s little stunt gave me a good opportunity to put it to the test.
Side note 1.
Kingami asked me what I think of humans.
She winced.
I can’t tell what was different in my response to cause that expression.
Side note 2
Y̶o̶u̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶k̶e̶e̶p̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶p̶a̶g̶e̶ ̶o̶n̶.̶
Note forty-five.
I’m thinking of a name.
Right now, I’m really trying, but nothing is working.
I want to ask someone:
“What surname would you give to something you created?”
But from memory, names hold a certain power over people—
even more so if you’re the one who names them.
My mistake was trying to understand others,
and now there’s not a single shirt in my workshop without a hole.
Still, there is some respect toward my work, at the very least.
I believe I have managed to create a structured plan to lure Reimu Hakurei—
and to get a single drop of her blood.
But progress is slow.
And it will slow even further if Kingami doesn’t come to visit soon.
Side note.
S̶t̶o̶p̶ ̶s̶t̶r̶e̶s̶s̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶,̶ ̶i̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶f̶i̶n̶e̶.̶
Note forty-seven.
I finally managed to find a way to get them to sleep.
And everything is set.
I have my hostages—
a whole village.
I can hardly contain my excitement.
Side note.
I̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶f̶i̶n̶e̶.̶
Note forty-eight.
Everything went terribly wrong.
I didn’t take into account the possibility that Reimu was holding back.
She hesitated at first, slowly being pushed back.
I had her against the wall. I really did.
But then she stopped restraining her attacks—
and when I moved to use the humans as shields,
without hesitation, she pierced one of them with her needles.
At that point, I was sure of it.
All of it was a mistake.
It wasn’t long before I got myself trapped in the fire as well.
And now I’m here, writing with my left hand because the right is barely holding on by a thread.
I’m humming, if only to make the constant chirping at my side stop for a moment.
Side note.
If her talons and claws can’t properly grip the surface she’s on, she won’t settle.
Note forty-nine.
The human Reimu killed…
is alive.
…
What is going on?
Note fifty-two.
I thought about it for a while—
the expression Kingami had.
One corner of her mouth tightened and lifted for less than a second before settling again.
It reminded me of why I started asking her to leave and never return.
I wonder…
Am I in the wrong?
Or am I justified?
I believe there’s no right answer.
Right now, I only imagine the expression she must be wearing.
Eyes slightly narrowed,
occasionally unfocused.
Her fist pressed against her cheek,
lips parting only to press together again if any sound rises.
Sitting—
whether waiting inside that armor of hers,
or hugging her legs beneath a tree, shielding herself from the heat.
Yes.
That’s how I imagine it.
For me,
that’s fine.
Note fifty-three.
She contacted me,
asked me to go to a specific spot.
Side note.
I will finish this entry later.
Maqüi kept tapping the back of her heel against each branch that peeked from the ground.
The earth sank with each step, and that small extra touch of stability felt comforting.
As she walked, a figure came into view—
antlers first, then the animals running around her, and then the child—
She crashed into her, dropping to the ground, still laughing.
She had antlers of her own, and her clothes followed the logic of human children:
She wore a blue scarf, red clothes, and blue pants, though it didn’t fit the end of winter, or the way the dirt was wet from melted snow.
Maqüi took a quick look at one of the leaves above, watching as a single drop of water slipped from it.
Then she turned back.
It was a fairy, and she was frightened. She made incoherent noises, her nose moving like a startled animal.
Maqüi extended a hand forward.
The fairy reacted at once, reaching back—and Maqüi pulled them in close to her feet.
She bowed her head slightly, waving a hand, and the fairy obeyed, moving out of the way.
The fairy kept her gaze locked as Maqüi walked away—
her black hair, her black skirt… there was something wrong with it.
Maybe it was the sensation of danger.
Maybe the detached red sleeves, and her height, which made her strangely charming.
Or maybe—just maybe—
it had to do with those empty eyes locked on the ground,
and the way her fingers remained firmly intertwined.
She continued, her steps slowing as the branches shifted. The space changed; the smell of the dirt turned into the watered scent of dry ink.
And then Maqüi was there again, the workshop in front of her.
Just seven or eight steps away.
She closed her eyes, drawing in a breath, her shoulders easing.
And then she turned back.
Heavy, loud steps sounded from the forest, and the closer they came, the more dampened thuds followed, each one louder than the last.
Then a voice, rough and metallic: “Hold on.”
A giant suit of armor dropped in front of Maqüi, a head taller than her.
Its body tilted forward. From the seven cameras set along the sides of its head, red lights flickered—and then the helmet gave way.
“Hoooold on!” Kingami jumped off the armor—the seatbelt caught her, tipping her forward into an awkward roll that ended on her back.
Maqüi tilted her head slightly. “Why that ridiculous strap?”
Kingami groaned and pushed herself up, pausing before shifting into a seated position. “Well, it’s for safety. Mashiroko’s been pulling a lot of pranks late—”
Then her eyes went wide. “Hold on!”
“That’s beside the point.” She jumped to her feet, then spread her arms wide. “What happened?!”
Maqüi’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t arrive.”
“Yeah, I can see that!” Kingami’s frown sharpened, then softened. “Why…?”
Maqüi bowed her head, her fingers twitching before settling at her sides.
She pressed a hand against her wrist, her thumb digging into it.
Kingami’s voice lifted. “Stop stalling. Just say it.”
Maqüi looked back at her with a blank expression. “I had better things to do.”
Kingami flinched. Then she kicked the ground—once, then again. “Really… that’s your excuse…”
“It really does sound like one, doesn’t it?” Maqüi’s eyes narrowed.
Kingami turned back to her. Maqüi seemed to smile. “If you wish, we can share a few words, here outside.”
“But honestly…” Her voice, just barely, turned quieter. “I don’t want you to come into this workshop ever again.”
For the first time, her expression softened.
"I found something better."
“And you long outgrew your purpose.”
Maqüi closed her eyes for a moment too long. “So, tell me what you want.”
Kingami’s face flickered with anger—once, twice, three times. Her frown returned, her brow furrowed, and two sharp gasps escaped her before she winced again.
She closed her eyes. When she spoke, it was quiet. “I… wanted to help with that plan of yours…”
Maqüi’s hands stilled, then slowly dropped to her sides. “I have no way of reaching Reimu.”
“The only reasonable course of action is to give up completely.”
Kingami reached for her arm. “Even you know that with her in the air, youkai-kind will continue to hide.”
“Maybe…” Kingami shifted her weight to her left leg. “You could try to get in her head.”
Maqüi’s lips parted, yet she didn’t speak. It took her a moment before she turned back.
“I understand.”
Her voice turned even colder. “Now go away.”
Kingami watched her leave. Her legs buckled for a step before she followed.
“Hold on! I—” Her words caught. From the window, she could have sworn a set of eyes peeked out at her.
She frowned, rushing forward. “Wait, I’m not done talking with—”
And then the door opened, and behind it were one set of round eyes.
Kingami flinched and stumbled to the ground.
The sight was strange—a crown of yellow feathers, hair like a murky grey paste.
Yet the haunting part was the frayed stare, the way her wings replaced her arms, and the way her pupils shrank all at once.
Maqüi smiled. “This…” She reached down, giving the figure a small pet under its chin.
It glanced back at Maqüi before focusing on Kingami.
“...is my answer,” Maqüi finished, straightening.
She reached for the doorknob, chin lifting slightly. “Now, leave us alone.”
The door closed, leaving a strange quiet behind.
Kingami stumbled back. She moved to the window, but the curtain was already drawn.
She circled around to the back, peering through a small hole in the wall—and there, she watched.
Maqüi snapped her fingers. Once, twice, three times—and the figure turned toward her, eyes locking in place.
She pointed at the ground, and with a small bounce, the creature dropped into a kneel.
Kingami let out a quiet breath, her eyes softening.
The smile.
The movements—not sharp or measured, just gentle.
The cadence, the casual anger that could snap into laughter.
She had never seen Maqüi make a face like that.
And the creature—obedient, quiet, like a doll—
yet reacting every time Maqüi spoke.
A pause.
So that was it.
That was what Maqüi had been looking for all along?
Kingami’s breath tightened all at once, like a knot in her throat.
She lowered her gaze, then turned, walking back toward her armor.
One of her hands trailed along its edge before it snapped open and she stepped inside.
She bowed her head as the metal closed around her.
Then she took off.
Note fifty-six.
Peculiar.
The moment someone tries to move forward,
they are met with a revelation like no other.
It happens to most of us—
the death of someone,
the moment they take the life of others,
or maybe the moment when logic falls away and you are left with hunger.
And that hunger reveals that, deep down, nothing changed.
Because it didn’t.
It never did.
Kingami was right about one thing.
And that is the fact that I cannot deal with this alone.
But, lucky me, I know a thing or two about meddling with the mind of another.
Depths of the Iron Mountain,
10:23 AM.
The air turned thicker.
The light shifted to a washed-out blue.
In that precise moment,
the taste of saliva dulled,
and the letters in the contract beside the youkai blurred.
“So…” She clutched her spear tighter. “All I need is for her to trust me?”
Maqüi smiled, her teeth showing.
“Yes.”
“And if I do…” Her hand reached forward.
It felt too close.
“...then you will no longer be bound to that weapon.”
The youkai hesitated, her lips parting.
And then the soft sound of a pen against paper.