The sky was red.
I struggled ineffectively against the cluster of spider lilies that clung to my leg. The air around me was cloying and toxic, and it weighed me down; I had twisted my ankle when I fell — how could I have fallen, and from where? I had been walking down the street like any other day, not a care in the world — and it held me back as well as any manacle could.
I drew a deep breath, and the pressure got worse.
Had it not been for the dull, heavy pain in my chest, I would have thought I was dreaming. An endless marsh full of spider lilies? Flowering cherry trees with purple blossoms? A skyline that looked like it had been dyed with blood? If I wasn't asleep, I was hallucinating. Funny, that.
Since I had little strength to do anything else, I decided to enjoy my delirium. At once, life became easy; my mind was wrapped in a soft, warm cloud. If only I could get my feet out of cold water and lie down somewhere, then I would be perfectly comfortable.
"Thanks for the meal."
Japanese, my brain told me at length. Japanese, and so very out of place on this red-tinted field. Or perhaps not. I had never been to Japan. Maybe it looked like this, and all photographs and documentaries were a lie.
An apparition approached, a dab of blue against the red and purple of its background. I got the impression of a well-toned woman, with dyed hair the exact same shade as the spider lilies all around us. I thought I saw a pair of fuzzy, animal-like ears on the top of her head, and rubbed my eyes to dispel this hallucination.
"Hello." My voice was slurred and my elementary Japanese awkward and rusty from disuse, but I did my best to smile sweetly to make up for both.
The apparition smiled too. It was a vaguely leery grin that back at home would've made me leave and seek safety in company. As it was, it was kind of funny. The ears were still there, and as I looked more closely, I saw they matched the pair of fluffy tails peeking from behind the apparition's back.
The apparition spoke again, but aside from the word for "to be" and the fact it was a question, it went in through one ear and out the other.
I shrugged, the light-headedness making me giddy. She looked so puzzled I began to laugh, and couldn't stop even when the apparition said something else I couldn't understand.
A hand wrapped around my wrist, and my laughter came to an end like it had hit a wall. The touch was gentle, but something about the way those sinewy fingers gripped me, and the way the long fingernails at the end of the brushed against my skin, made me sense a force capable of crushing my bones to powder. It dawned on me that a hallucination probably wouldn't feel quite that real. Then again, I knew nothing of delirium. Perhaps this was exactly how it was meant to be.
"Come," the apparition said, in a soothing, matter-of-fact tone.
What choice did I have? I stumbled after the apparition, wading through more and more plants to seemingly no end, the spider lilies in my vision turning into blotches of blood red, then nothing but haze, until blackness claimed it all.
The weird youkai was back.
I ignored it to the best of my ability, turning to push another barrel to its side so I could roll it to the back door of the bar I lived and worked at. I told myself the youkai wouldn't — or at least shouldn't — eat me while I was in the village. That didn't mean I liked the way it was burning holes in the back of my neck with its eyes.
It had been a month since I had woken up on a bamboo mattress, surrounded by people I didn't know speaking a language I barely understood, with only a dim recollection of what had happened before. I had gotten past the initial shock of finding myself in Gensokyo, which was what the locals called the place, but I was yet to get used to the idea of youkai.
I sneaked a peek at the youkai from the corner of my eye. It (well, she, really) didn't look that different from a human: her dress was more elaborate and Western-styled, and her hair a brighter red, but for the most part she was the same as the villagers. For the most part. There was no explaining the second pair of ears, nor the two bushy tails bursting forth from her lower back, with two neat holes cut in her skirt for them to pass through.
I turned my head and rolled the barrel over to the others already waiting for one of my stronger co-workers to haul inside.
The youkai was still following me.
Here's the thing: though I was beginning to understand it, I only barely spoke Japanese. I knew some basic phrases and a few things about the grammar, but as far as real communication went, I was lost at sea.
"Help?" I finally said, hoping it would get my point across. The couple running the bar had made it clear youkai were potential customers, and while I should be wary of them if they made an attempt to lure me out of the village or into secluded nooks, as long as they acted politely I was to do likewise. While the clientele of the bar was mostly humans, and more specifically older men, every once in a while when taking drinks to tables, I'd hand them over to taloned fingers and owners of vivid red eyes.
The youkai barked with laughter. "No thanks."
My cheeks reddened. I had probably conjugated the verb all wrong.
"I work," I tried, pointing at the barrels.
"Yes." The funny smile on the youkai's face widened. "I know."
"Suzu!"
I turned my head. It was the proprietress of the bar calling for me.
"Excuse me," I mumbled, bowing at the youkai.
To my surprise, she bowed back. "Bye, Suzu."
A temporary madness seized me. I was already used to being called Suzu, but it sounded wrong, coming from the youkai. "My name's Susan. Susan Christopher."
The youkai blinked. Her eyes widened, giving me a good glimpse at her bright red irises, the same colour as her hair.
Slowly, her smile returned. "Susan Christopher." She pronounced the name at length, rolling the unfamiliar syllables.
I nodded and left.
When I returned, the youkai was gone. Where she had stood was a parcel with a large green leaf for a wrapping, tied in place with long blades of grass.
I crouched down next to the parcel, suspecting treachery. I poked at it, then looked around. My gut instinct told me the parcel was for me, from the strange youkai. But that wasn't a thing youkai did, was it, leaving gifts for humans? With a sinking feeling, I realised I didn't have good enough a command of the language to even ask anyone about it.
Hesitantly, I pulled at the ribbon on top of the parcel. The leaf shook open, revealing a cube of pink mochi, with cherry blossom petals stuck to it.
Over the course of summer and autumn, when no-one else was around, I would sometimes find similar presents waiting for me behind the bar. There was no clear-cut schedule, but they appeared roughly twice a month, either at closing time or as the first thing in the morning. They usually contained flower mochi, the colour of the petals changing as months passed, but twice I instead got a taiyaki stuffed full of red bean paste, and once, as the first frost of winter covered the land, a bundle of small, red-cheeked apples.
I had initially hidden the gifts under my spare clothes, with no intention of touching them. Once my sweet tooth got the better of me, I discovered the flower mochi didn't transform me into a flower in turn, and I ate the rest with relish. No doubt the youkai was trying to earn my trust to lure me out to eat me, but as long as I wasn't fooled, things were fine.
On the last day of autumn, two days after the Hakurei shrine maiden's marriage, I was sorting things out at closing time when the proprietess called for me.
"Suzu! Yusuke sneaked out early, and he forgot to bring in the new casks. That boy, I swear..."
"I'll take care of it," I replied. I nabbed the spare chanchanko hanging by the back door and pulled it tightly around my body before stepping outside. I closed the door behind me, and briefly marvelled at the way my breath turned into mist in the chilly air. Then, I turned to see where the casks were.
A man I had never seen before stood two feet away from me.
"Can I help you?" I asked, squinting in the dim light of the sole lantern hanging by the back door. The man had average features and a kindly smile. Nothing about his appearance stood out...but despite what felt like sub-zero temperatures, he was in summer clothes.
I squinted further. A leaf was stuck to his hair. Just a normal, green leaf. Only, all leaves had already turned brown.
"...You wouldn't happen to be a youkai, would you?"
The man's smile melted away, only to be replaced by a grin. He raised his hand to the leaf on his head and pulled it off.
I blinked. Where the man had stood was the fox youkai I had met in the spring, beaming at me.
"Well done." She winked. "You speak Japanese much better than before."
"Of course I do." It had been sink or swim, living among people who spoke nothing else. I still couldn't read anything but the most simple things, but just being able to open my mouth and be understood, and being able to understand the response in turn was a blessing I hadn't known to appreciate before Gensokyo. "Your disguise wasn't very good."
"I could fool my own mother if necessary. Today, I just wanted to see if you could spot me, so I made things a bit easier." She leaned in closer. "So, Susan Christopher..." She pronounced my name much more smoothly than the first time, almost like she'd been practising it. "How did you like my gifts?"
Their origin hadn't really needed confirming, but there it was anyway. I suddenly became very aware I was alone with a youkai in the dark. "They really were gifts, right? No strings attached?"
"No more than usually with gifts." The youkai tilted her head. She seemed to be genuinely considering something, but you never knew.
In the interim, I had learned a lot about youkai. How they ate people — though no-one could name an instance in recent years where someone from the village had actually been killed. How Outsiders — that stood for people like me who had been born outside Gensokyo — were free for all if they didn't make it to the village, and how even now I couldn't be sure I counted as a resident and thus under the shrine maiden's protection. How it was all right for youkai to come to the village if they were there on business, but befriending them was out of the question.
I had also learned there was no harm in being polite, so I bowed. "Thank you very much, Miss..." I frowned, my head still low, as I realised I didn't know her name.
"Akane. Just Akane."
"Akane. Thank you."
Akane smiled widely. The light of the lantern caught her fangs. "So, which one was your favourite?"
"Oh. Um." I gave it some thought. "The cherry blossom mochi, I think." It had been soft and sweet, with a floral scent that had reminded me of something long forgotten.
"I see." Akane chuckled. "Too bad I can't give you suzuran mochi."
I furrowed my brow at the unfamiliar word. "Suzuran?"
Akane crouched down and doodled a flower into the dust with her fingertip.
I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes for a better look at the small bell-shaped blossoms and long, rounded leaves. I couldn't be sure without colours, but even in the scant light the resemblance was uncanny. "Lily-of-the-valley? Those are toxic."
"To humans." Akane's grin faded a touch as she conceded: "And to us in large doses. Still, it's the sweetest, tastiest thing. A forbidden fruit well worth the risk." The fangs returned at full force. "You'll just have to be content with cherry blossom mochi for now."
Before I had time to comment on the "for now", she gave a quick bow, and just like that, she was gone. I stepped from under the canopy and into the open and managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of her high against the cloudy sky, flying towards the woods.
Shuddering, I stepped back and grabbed the nearest cask. As I struggled to pick it up, I tried to decide whether the shudder was due to cold, fear, or the unexpected thrill of speaking to the strange youkai.
Though I still regularly found leaf packets of mochi, I didn't see Akane at all during my first winter in Gensokyo. The endless snow and blistering cold made me homesick in a way even my first bewildering weeks hadn't. Everywhere I went, I was haunted by visions of my parents, my friends, and the world I had left behind. I learned there was no way out, only the capricious whim of the one the other villagers called "the gap youkai" in hushed tones, and so resigned myself to a pre-industrial life.
Really, my new life wasn't so bad. My bed was little more than a roll on the floor, and the daily food was little more than rice, beans, and the occasional lake fish, but both beat a shallow grave in the strange field filled with spider lilies where I had first emerged when snatched away from my world. If it hadn't been for the dismissive comments about "Outsiders", the lack of friends to confide in, and the knowledge things wouldn't get any better on either front, I might have almost been happy.
The spring thaw uplifted my spirits: once flowers bloomed and birds joined bird youkai in their singing, Gensokyo was a joy to the senses. Even the hail of colourful bullets from the enthusiastic spring herald fairy didn't dampen my excitement.
Mornings were my favourite, so I always took the opportunity to sweep the doorway first thing after waking up, at the very crack of dawn, when the farmers left for the fields and I was the only person awake in the village. Akane hadn't left me gifts since the snow melted, so I assumed that was the end of it. She had been persistent to keep at it for almost a year. In fact, it was almost the anniversary of my arrival...
As I realised it wasn't just close to the anniversary, but the anniversary, the exact date I had found myself dazed in a field of spider lilies, I spotted another leaf parcel in the corner of my eye. After sweeping the last of the debris aside I approached it gingerly, and when I was sure no-one was watching, I unwrapped it. To my delight, It was cherry blossom mochi.
"You remembered," I mumbled to myself. Then, I spotted another packet, this one in the middle the road.
The second gift led to a third, and that to a fourth. Soon my arms were full of cubes of mochi as I kept walking down the street and gathering more and more parcels.
As I crouched down for yet another gift, I saw where the next one was. It was just beyond the gate of the village. Without even noticing, I had come to the border of the safe zone.
I froze where I stood. A packet fell from my arms, but I didn't bother to pick it up.
Finally, as the initial shock passed, I found myself back in control of my mouth. "I know what you're doing."
"Do you?" Akane's voice came from above. I looked up to see her cheekily balancing on the wooden poles that marked the barrier between human territory and hers.
I located an upright barrel by the tea shop next door and dumped the parcels on it. "Do you think I'm stupid just because I'm an Outsider? I'm not going to fall for such an obvious."
Akane's smile lost several teeth. "It's not a trick." She jumped to the other side of the wall and soon emerged in the mouth of the gate, looking at me just behind the last parcel. "Well, not the kind of trick you think it is."
I narrowed my eyes. "You're not trying to lure me out of the village so I'm up for grabs and you can eat me? Give me a break."
Akane folded her arms. "If I was going to eat you, I would've done so when we first met."
"We didn't—" I began to protest, then realised what she was talking about. My memories of my arrival were hazy, almost if it had been a dream instead, but there had been a youkai there. A youkai with red hair...
I stared at Akane with fresh eyes. "You're the one who took me to safety."
Akane laughed wildly. "I thought you knew!" Then, more mildly. "Well, that explains why you were so reserved at the start."
I had thought myself prudent over anything else, but that was missing the point. More importantly: "So, why didn't you eat me back then?"
Akane hesitated, suddenly bashful. She dug her feet into the ground for a moment before meeting my gaze. "Well... a couple of reasons. You were acting so strangely I thought there was something wrong with you. I was worried I might catch something from you. And it just felt weird eating someone who didn't fear you at all."
"That's it?"
"Yeah." She looked away. "Almost."
"Almost?"
Akane gave me a serious look; something I had never seen on her face before. "Yeah." She struggled with herself for a while, leering to the sides as if to make sure no-one was around to hear. "The way you just stood there, all laughing and vulnerable... like some kind of rare lily only waiting for someone to snap you up, unable to put up a fight. And I could've taken you and been done with it, but more than that, I wanted to keep watching you, and talk to you, and protect you from anyone else who might want to pick you up."
"What do you mean?"
Akane grinned. "For someone so quick to learn the language, you sure can be dim."
My cheeks burned. "Excuse me?"
Akane took a step closer; by now, she was teetering at the edge to the village. She met my eyes once more. Red though her eyes were, they shone with human emotion. "I like you."
I stared, finally understanding what it all meant.
Really, the biggest surprise was how unsurprising it felt.
"I know it's weird," Akane continued when I said nothing, "but it wouldn't be the first time a human and a youkai have come together. It happens more often than people like to admit."
I nodded slowly. She wasn't lying: the owner of Kourindou was by all accounts a half-youkai.
"That's why I want you to come out of the village. There are all kinds of cool things out here I want to show you. You'll love it."
I took a deep breath. Akane kept eyeing me guilelessly — but knowing all I knew about fox youkai, that didn't mean much. And yet...
"You won't let your friends hurt me."
Akane's face brightened. Her tails stood to attention. "Of course I won't."
"And if you ever so much as bite me, it's over."
"Not even a friendly nibble every once in a while?"
"Not even—" I hesitated. "Um, well, depends a little on the context."
Akane laughed. "That's my girl."
"'Yours?' I didn't say yes yet, you know."
"Aren't you gonna?"
"Hmm." I grinned. "Who knows?"
Akane grinned back, and extended her hand. When I reached for it, she curled her claws around my hand, but so gently I felt no pain. And like that, hand in hand, the same way I had taken my first steps in Gensokyo, I took my first step back into the wilderness.