Chapter Text
An hour and twenty-two minutes. Gensokyo had been plunged into a hellish red gloom for an hour and twenty-two minutes, and there was still no sign of the Hakurei.
Remilia couldn’t stand it. She flew swiftly in the direction of the Hakurei Shrine. The vein in her temple was throbbing. It did that whenever she was angry or hungry. As of now, she could confidently say she was both.
This was a vampire at its most dangerous.
Remilia slammed onto the paved path. The stones beneath her cracked and spat dust and shards. There was a moment of petty catharsis, but Remilia regretted it. What pleasure was there to derive from vandalizing a shrine in desperate need of renovation? Just look at the main building. Anyone would've figured it abandoned if it weren’t for the warm orange light filtering through the paper walls.
Wait.
Warm orange light? The lights were on?
The belly of Gensokyo had been split open, the entrails of paradise were spilled out across the sky, and in response, the Hakurei turned on the lights?
Remilia was outraged. Such audacity needed to be addressed immediately. She reached into her coat and produced a comb, which she ran through her windswept hair. Next came a light spritzing of perfume. It left her with a pleasant and masculine smell, but perhaps it was too strong. She brushed herself off, dispersing some of the scent and smoothing out the wrinkles in her coat and trousers. One last comb over, and Remilia was ready. She went up to the sliding door.
She was about to knock with the back of her knuckles when there came a peculiar resistance. Something invisible was trying to stop her movement—or rather, to throw her off the porch completely. Remilia recognized it for what it was.
“Fancy yourself a guard dog then?” Remilia said in a voice too low for mortal hearing. “I don’t have the patience for this. Begone, or who you’re trying to protect will find herself beneath a pile of splintered timber and roof shingles.”
An empty threat, but the spirit didn’t know that. Slowly it released her, albeit not before promising violence should Remilia harm the Hakurei inside. Remilia wanted to laugh. What could such a weak spirit possibly do to her? Besides, she wasn’t going to harm the Hakurei.
That would come later.
Remilia knocked. It produced a shaky and rattling sound. Shadows moved from within the shrine as the Hakurei scrambled to her feet. Footsteps fast approached. The door slid open, and Remilia had her first look at this generation’s Hakurei Miko.
She was only a child. That surprised Remilia. Still, the Hakurei stood over the vampire by about half a head. Her soft brown hair and eyes gave her an unassuming appearance. But the scar that lay diagonally across the bridge of her nose, and the subtle broadness of her shoulders and arms, hinted at a familiarity with action.
Remilia waited for the sweet realization that occurred when the mind finished processing what the eyes had sent it. For the shock and panic, maybe even anger, to bloom across the Hakurei’s face when she realized just who she had opened her home to. The Hakurei’s excitement (had she been expecting somebody else?) turned to confusion, and she said:
“Oh, it’s just a kid.”
The Hakurei went back inside.
What? Remilia peered in after her. The Hakurei had ducked into a small kitchen at the back of the shrine. Did the shrine always have a kitchen? Was that an electric stove? Come to think of it, those were bulbs providing light, not oil lamps or candles. The shrine had had a renovation of sorts after all. But by who?
Remilia was getting off-topic. She returned her focus to the baffling girl who was currently preparing tea. Tea.
“Excuse me,” Remilia said, “but do you not know who I am?”
The Hakurei paused what she was doing to take in Remilia. The vampire posed to display her profile better. She even went as far as to let a fang poke out from under her upper lip.
“...No, sorry. Should I? Oh, and what kind of tea do you want?”
Remilia dropped her pose and glared accusingly. “I don’t drink.”
“It isn’t alcoholic.”
“I’m a vampire.”
The Hakurei considered this for a moment. “So no tea?”
“No tea, thank you.”
“Alright. I’ll just make some for myself then.”
Remilia was at a loss. She didn’t know whether the Hakurei’s carelessness stemmed from a place of confidence or sheer ignorance. She looked at the child more closely, noting her unkempt hair and how her jinbei top was slightly undone, revealing her left shoulder. The girl had been sleeping or in bed until recently. The disturbed futon in the corner confirmed this. Besides that, the tiny kitchen, and the small table centered in the middle of the room, there was no other furniture.
This was hardly a renovation. Remilia herself could’ve done a much better job at it. In fact, she'd do so freely if the Hakurei allowed it. If the Hakurei lived. Speaking of whom, the child sat down at the table, stirring her tea with a chopstick and looking at Remilia quizzically.
The Hakurei frowned. Remilia thought that she had finally been recognized for the monster she was, but the Hakurei only had this to offer:
“Are you going to come in or…?”
Remilia wanted to curl into a little ball and rock back and forth. “You really have no idea,” she said in quiet amazement. “It’s Remilia Scarlet. The vampire, Remilia Scarlet.”
The Hakurei took a noisy sip. “That’s a strange name.” This, oddly enough, did not offend Remilia in the slightest. “I’m Reimu. Hey, if you aren’t going to come in, can we move this outside? I don’t want mosquitoes getting in—”
“For the love of- Are we really going to sit here and pretend that the sky isn’t just pissing unholy blood mist everywhere? You’re supposed to be the Hakurei! What is wrong with you?”
“Hey, you’re short and have purple hair, I don’t need you asking what’s wrong with me!”
“My hair isn’t purple, it’s blue! God, how can you be so- Damn you!”
Reimu got up suddenly and pointed an angry finger. “No, damn you! Go to hell!”
“You go to hell!” Remilia shouted back, and the two kept damning each other even as Remilia stormed off the porch, even as Reimu moved to where Remilia once stood at the doorway, only deviating when Remilia spun around and said, “My hair is blue!”
“Purple!” Reimu declared, and then she stuck her tongue out and shut the door with a terrific rattle.
Remilia stamped her foot. She let out a string of curses in English and French. And then she was high above the world, hurtling back towards her mansion home, intent on revoking everything. Patchouli? Roll back the mist! Meiling and Sakuya? Consider your afternoons free! Remilia was going to bed. What about the Incident? Remilia didn’t care anymore. The Hakurei named Reimu ruined it.
Careless Reimu.
Ignorant Reimu.
Insipid Reimu, with her beating heart and veins pumped full of blood, so young to be living alone.
The regret came in, slow and poignant. No, it wasn’t supposed to go like this, not at all. But how could she have predicted that Reimu would be so unlike her predecessor? It frustrated her. Mortals moved too fast. It wasn’t fair. At least send her a postcard before you up and have a child and die. It wasn't fair.
Remilia snapped to a halt. The wind blew past her, throwing her hair into her face. She shook her head like a dog dislodging water. What was she doing? It was unseemly for a vampire to hold a grudge against a mortal. Besides, there was still a way to salvage this mess. All she had to do was make amends with the Hakurei, and Remilia knew the perfect way to go about it.
Back to the Hakurei Shrine she went.
Remilia touched on the porch, careful not to make a sound. She scanned for the object of her search and found it almost immediately: the shrine’s donation box. It was pitifully barren. Remilia reached into her coat and plucked out a mon coin. She moved to make the donation, but stopped just before.
“What’s the matter?” Remilia taunted, one again too low for mortal hearing. "Not even going to try to stop me this time?"
There was a tiny shift in air pressure. A hazy shape began to form on the opposite side of the donation box. Remilia was faintly impressed. For such a weak spirit to manifest itself would require a tremendous amount of effort. Yet the spirit somehow managed. It presented a cluster of blobby colors that shone through the red dark. Remilia fancied she could make out a small human-ish shape with light skin, green hair, and stone protrusions. There were even eyes. They glared at her with undisguised contempt.
“Akuma,” the spirit said.
The voice was distant and childish. Remilia grinned, flashing her fangs. This was too good. She mouthed the words: “And what of it? You played your hand, feeble as it is. What did you hope to accomplish by revealing yourself to me?”
The spirit remained quiet. Remilia’s smile faded. Perhaps the spirit couldn’t vocalize anymore. Oh, well. It was amusing enough seeing it try so hard. She'll let it disappear without tormenting it further.
But just as Remilia made that mental dismissal of the spirit, it lashed out with a phantasmal limb, swatting the coin out of Remilia’s hand and into the donation box, causing a sizable clatter.
“You-!” Remilia uttered, but it was too late. The spirit had exhausted the last of its energy and vanished. Rapid footsteps approached, and the shrine’s door flew open.
The Hakurei’s shadow fell over Remilia.
Any preconceived notion of a succinct apology speech crumbled into dust. There was a terrifying moment when nothing else came to her mind. What to say? What to do? A complete mystery. The Hakurei was looking right at her, impassive face unreadable. God, she could already feel her initial frustration with the girl bubbling up again. But she forced it back down. She came here to make amends, did she not? Yes, that was the plan.
“Forgive me,” Remilia said. She bowed politely, as the Japanese so often do when apologizing. “I’m a self-centered brat, and it has been a long decade. May we try again? I am actually quite desperate to know you.”
A moment of silence. Remilia became nervous. She wanted to rise gracefully, but the hand that clamped down on the top of her head made her jolt to full standing. The Hakurei’s grip remained steady.
She tousled Remilia's hair.
“Okay,” Reimu said, releasing Remilia. “But you gotta come inside this time. These mosquitoes are going to eat me alive.”
“And I won’t?” Remilia asked, genuinely confused. Her bangs were still over her face.
“Nope. I mean, you wanted to get to know me, right? Can’t do that if you eat me.”
There was so much wrong and right with what the Hakurei had said that Remilia burst into laughter. It felt good to laugh. She swept her hair back and declared, “Don’t be so sure, Hakurei! Us vampires get rather intimate when we eat.”
Reimu made a face. “Gross. Also, call me Reimu. And get inside!”
Remilia let herself be dragged in, because why not at this point? She was seated at the table. Reimu disappeared into the kitchen and reemerged with a fresh cup of tea. She settled across from Remilia.
“There’s still a little bit left in the kettle if you want any,” Reimu said.
Remilia shook her head. “It does nothing for me. I would accept if it did.”
“Really? That sucks.” Reimu paused to drink. “Why didn’t you lead with that earlier?”
“I was… being presumptuous. Look, Reimu. I’m the one behind the scarlet mist.”
Reimu made a noise of amiable agreement. When nothing else came out of her, Remilia asked, “Isn’t it the Hakurei Miko’s duty to resolve Incidents?”
“Yep.”
“So why aren’t you resolving?”
“Don’t have to.”
“Don’t have t- The hell does that mean? Gensokyo will die without the sun.”
“Yeah, see, that’s exactly it.” Reimu became oddly excited, as if Remilia had agreed on a long-disputed point with her. “Think about it. Plants need sunlight to grow. Animals eat those plants to live. And then humans eat those animals. Without the sun, none of that would happen, and then what would you be left with? What would you eat? Fat nothing. So naturally you’d get rid of the mist before any major damage is done, and I won’t have to do anything. It’s a self-resolving Incident.”
Remilia dropped her face onto the table and groaned. Of course. Why didn’t she think of that? Patchouli had even called it a ridiculous plan to her face, and yet she hadn't listened. Granted, Remilia never really was that good at listening, but never had that trait of hers bitten her so hard in the neck. And to top it off, it had been a mortal child not even halfway through her second decade who had succeeded where the vampire had failed.
Remilia had been defeated before the battle even began. She thought she might cry.
“Are you crying?” Reimu said with some concern.
Remilia slammed the table and shot up. “No, but I will be if you keep denying me this! How can you be so heartless?”
“What? How does that make me—”
“You say this Incident is self-resolving, but what of your reputation?” Remilia stood up. A thread! She pursued it viciously. “Isn’t the Hakurei supposed to maintain the balance in Gensokyo? Letting me get away with this, even if there are no long-term repercussions for the ecosystem, would be an admittance of weakness. That you would let powerful, dangerous youkai do whatever they want with the place, so long as it doesn’t inconvenience you directly.”
Reimu had this infuriating slack-jawed look of confusion. “But I wouldn’t do that though.”
“But you would! You’re doing it right now with me.”
“That’s because you’re not dangerous.”
“Argh!” Remilia paced the room, hands to her temples, trying to ease the desperate throbbing there. She spun to face Reimu, who remained seated. “You’re a Hakurei! Why don’t you take your duty seriously?”
“Why do you even care?” Reimu said, suddenly raising her voice. “I thought you wanted to know me! How does yelling at me to beat you up help with that?”
“Because that’s how me and your mother did it! Putain de merde!”
Silence. Remilia’s heart hammered in her throat. Her temples throbbed. She was keenly aware of the blood racing through Reimu’s body, and she hated it. She should’ve fed before she came here. Why didn’t she? She looked at Reimu, whose face had fallen into that dumb slack-jawed expression again. Remilia waited for her to say something, anything.
Reimu spoke. “Uh, well, I’m not my mother. So yeah.”
She swallowed the dregs of her tea.
Shame flooded Remilia’s system. Today has just been one long stream of humiliating mistakes. Simple mistakes. Lessons she should’ve learned a thousand times over the course of her immortality. Reimu was not her mother. How could she be? Reimu’s mother was dead and buried. To try and resurrect her through her daughter was nothing but a foolish bid to relive the past. To indulge in fragile nostalgia, and at the same time, deny Reimu her personhood.
To hell with that. To hell with the previous Hakurei! (Although knowing her, she's probably already there.) Reimu was alive and infinitely more important. She should be the only person Remilia was here for. Nobody else.
Remilia sat down. Reimu kept staring into her cup.
“I’m sorry,” Remilia said softly. “You’re right. I spoke out of turn. I was—”
“A self-centered brat?” Reimu finished. She looked up with a hint of smile.
“That’s it.” Remilia marveled at her. She had to admit, there was a certain draw to the girl, despite her—no, because of her oddities. It made Remilia want this Incident to happen all the more. But how could she incentivize someone who knew there was no real threat, and thought the promise of battle insufficient? How could she motivate someone like Reimu?
Remilia recalled her initial impression of the Hakurei Shrine. She recalled the ruined komainu statues flanking the torii. She recalled the spirit striking her, and the hollow clatter of wood hitting metal when the coin fell into the donation box.
Clatter.
It was a clatter, not a jingle.
Remilia slapped her own forehead. She ignored Reimu’s puzzlement, because despite their differences, there was one thing that both Reimu and the Hakurei before her had in common. That shoddy donation box was always empty! Remilia remembered that she had returned here with the intent of exploiting this to earn Reimu’s good favor. But the motion had been so ingrained in unconscious muscle memory that she hadn’t thought about leveraging it in a more direct method.
“Reimu, I have a proposition.”
“Oh. Aren’t we too young for that?”
“You misunderstand me grievously,” Remilia said, amused. She peered at Reimu over threaded fingers. “I meant that I have an offer to make. It goes as thus: I will lavish upon you every wealth imaginable. I will renovate the Hakurei Shrine and the surrounding grounds into a luxurious temple of Shinto worship outfitted with every modern and spiritual convenience available. You will be given servants. You will be able to indulge in decadent cuisines from across the world. And my home will forever be open to you, along with all the additional resources that entails.”
“Wait wait wait.” Reimu shifted into a more alert position. “Am I hearing this right? You’re going to pay me to beat you up? Are you serious?”
“Deadly. Although I’d word it more elegantly than that. But yes, if you managed to resolve my Incident, I’ll reward you with what I’ve described.”
Reimu returned to slouching. “Wow,” she said breathlessly. She repeated it. “Wow.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s just… I’ve always wanted to try an empanada. Can I have an empanada if I take you out?”
“Ma chérie, you can have two empanadas for all I care. Just deny me my battle no longer.”
“Alright! You got yourself a deal!” Reimu bounced to her feet, excited. But then she hesitated. “Uh, can we start right now?”
“Oh, certainly! I’ll meet you at my—”
The door to the shrine slid open. Then came black and white. It was all Remilia could see before the Yin-Yang Orb crashed into her face and launched her into the yard. She slid to a halt under the torii, on her back and facing up. The Yin-Yang Orb had shot past her. She could hear it whistling through the air. It was rushing back to her.
Remilia was furious. She forced herself up and spun just in time to catch the blasted sphere. It failed to move her. She wouldn’t allow it. Whatever force that compelled it realized this, and the Yin-Yang Orb struggled to pull away. Again, Remilia wouldn’t allow it. She kept it pinned between her hands as it jerked this way and that. She turned around.
There was Reimu, framed in the doorway. She looked mildly curious about the ongoing struggle. That was fine. Remilia was beginning to appreciate that part of Reimu. But then Remilia saw the spirit hovering over the miko’s shoulder, shaking up and down in what could only be laughter, and she lost reason.
“Enfant morveux!” Remilia bellowed. She threw the Yin-Yang Orb at the impudent ghost, but it, of course, vanished before the attack connected. Not that it would have done anything if it did. The Yin-Yang Orb swung back around to hover by Reimu, no doubt waiting for further directive. It was about to receive one until Remilia cried out.
“Stop! Just stop! Not like this you-! You little-!” Remilia clutched her hair. She stamped her feet. She paced back and forth. Her body demanded blood. It tugged at her veins incessantly for it. Reimu’s heart was a kettledrum in her ears. She needed the blood, and she needed it NOW.
Remilia tore her sleeve back and sank her fangs deep into her own wrist. Quickly she presented her back to Reimu and crouched so Reimu couldn’t discern what she was doing. She greedily sucked down her dirty blood for an equally dirty high. The sensation was woefully inadequate compared to drinking from another soul, but it was sufficient in providing immediate relief. Reimu’s heart slowly faded until it was no longer all-encompassing. The demand for blood became a request. Her temper put in perspective.
Remilia unhooked her teeth from her flesh. The wound barely bled, and what little blood that lay outside the wound was quickly reabsorbed as it healed. Remilia breathed deeply. Presentable once more.
“Are you okay?”
Reimu’s voice had come from right above her. Remilia scrambled upright and found that Reimu had closed the distance while her senses had been occupied with feeding. The Yin-Yang Orb remained diligently by the miko’s side.
“I’m fine,” Remilia said hastily. “Actually, I’m not. No, I am.” She noticed her sleeve. She pulled it down. “It doesn’t matter! You’re supposed to defeat me, remember?”
Reimu put her hands on her hips. “See, that’s what I thought. But you seemed pretty upset back there. Unless you were acting?”
“No, I wasn’t,” Remilia admitted. “I suppose the fault lies with me. I failed to specify what resolving my Incident entails. Reimu, I am your final encounter. Ideally I wouldn’t be revealed until after you’ve stormed my home and defeated my elite coven members, but since you didn’t show after Patchouli created the mist—”
“Wait a minute,” Reimu interrupted. “I thought the mist was your doing.”
“It is my doing. As in, I told Patchouli to do it for me. She’s my coven wizard.”
“Okay, but, why not do it yourself?”
“Because I don’t know how to.”
That slack-jawed confusion again. “So… you’re not even the culprit behind your own Incident? It’s actually Patchouli? Oh, does that mean all I have to do is beat her and—”
“No no, Reimu, listen. I’m your final encounter. And Patchouli has made it very clear to me that she doesn’t want to partake in my Incident, so you won’t be fighting her at all.”
“But… she’s the one who created the mist.”
“I do not understand why you are so hung up on this,” Remilia snapped. “Forget about Patchouli. Patchouli does not exist. You are to go to my abode, the mansion by Misty Lake, and fight my elite coven members. Only after you have defeated them may you fight me. If you manage a victory, the Incident will be resolved, and you will get your rewards. Am I understood?”
Reimu fingered her chin. Her eyes wandered. She nodded. “Yeah. Break into your home, beat your friends, beat you. Got it.”
“Again, I disagree with your word choice. But good! Finally.” Remilia tittered, and suddenly she found herself dizzy. She was coming down fast. The vein in her temple pulsed. “Reimu, you have made me a happy but very hungry vampire. I must go now. I’ll prepare for your arrival.”
Reimu said something, but Remilia didn’t hear it. She staggered like a drunkard might to the edge of the path leading out from the shrine, stopping before the sharp descent. Gensokyo splayed out before her, a nightmarish landscape of red gums and black teeth. Remilia loathed it. It went against all of her aesthetic principles. But now she had her Incident. And she will have blood, real blood. She will have the Hakurei again.
Gensokyo, my beloved, why did I ever leave you?
Remilia wished to be gone.
She was gone.
The shrine was empty now, as per usual. Reimu commanded the Yin-Yang Orb to drop into her arms. She tossed it up and down a couple of times, savoring its heft.
“What a weird little boy,” she said. Another toss and catch. Pause. “I wonder what kind of perfume he was wearing. I liked it.”
No response. The shrine was still empty.
There was something she needed to do before she set out. What was it? Oh, right, get dressed. Would be embarrassing showing up in her pajamas. Imagine if the tengu got a picture of that and it ended up in the papers. Ugh.
She bounced the Yin-Yang Orb one last time. It fell on her head.