"How much farther were we to go?"
"We're almost there." Tojiko rose to the level of treetops to survey the landscape, then returned to hover just above the dew-laden grass. "This way."
Futo followed on foot, trying to make it appear as though she wasn't clutching onto her spell cards within her sleeves.
In retrospect, it had perhaps been a tad silly, but for a while Futo had sincerely believed that she and Tojiko could go on living... co-existing... whatever it was that they did now without any need to fight over or even acknowledge what had come to pass between the past and the present. So much of Futo's attention had been taken by the bizarre and often bewildering mores of Gensokyo, and while admittedly changed, Tojiko had felt like an anchor tethering her to a world she had understood.
Granted, Futo had been startled when she had first opened her eyes as a shikaisen to find a ghost peering down at her. Her surprise had only lasted until Tojiko had brought her hand down to help her sit up, and later when they had acted together to protect the Crown Prince in perfect synchronicity, it had almost seemed as though no time had passed. As though all any of them had done was to take a brief nap, with the only difference that two of them had woken up immortal, and the third had proven herself to be very mortal indeed.
So, yes, Futo had begun to believe that she and Tojiko might go on acting as though the last few days of Futo's mundane life had never come to pass. It wouldn't have been any stranger than the bizarre new sets of characters used for writing.
But there she was, following Tojiko further and further into the youkai-infested wilderness, pretending she hadn't seen Tojiko sort through her spell cards (a strange convention, but no worse than many others) the night before. Not that Futo minded. She was eager to display her powers, and while she would have rather targeted them at an enemy, she didn't mind demonstrating them against a friend.
Speaking of which... there wasn't much point to demonstrating anything this far from human habitation. "Could we not stop here?"
Tojiko frowned and looked about to shoot a less than polite comment at Futo when she spotted something ahead that made her brow clear. "Actually, yes. There it is."
Futo followed Tojiko through the bracken and halted as she did. Before them was a patch of wild rosebushes. Most of the flowers were still in bud, but a few of the more enterprising blossoms had unveiled themselves at the open air, their faint yellow petals matching the pale sun hidden behind clouds, their hearts with their golden rays reminding one that the clouds would eventually part.
"Yellow roses." Tojiko smiled. "The first ones I've seen in bloom."
"They are wonderful!" Futo admired the flowers and wondered how direct sunlight might play on their petals. Then, as the moment passed, she glanced at Tojiko in puzzlement. What did this have to do with a fight?
Tojiko returned her look with a long one of her own. "You have no idea why I brought you here, do you?"
After a moment's hesitation, Futo pulled out her spell cards.
Tojiko rolled her eyes. "Obviously not. We could have stayed home for that."
"Then why?"
"To show you the flowers, of course." Tojiko's calm expression fractured ever so slightly. "I thought you liked things like this. You were always dragging me along to see oddly shaped trees or unusually large beetles." Tojiko's frown returned. "Or did I misremember that, too?"
"Nay, that is correct." Futo smiled at the memories. Only after the fact did she begin to wonder what the too had meant.
"Then why were you so surprised? Because you really thought I would drag you all the way here just to fight you?" Tojiko folded her arms. "Or is it because you thought I brought you here to murder you?"
Futo blinked. She could safely say she hadn't expected that.
Tojiko observed Futo coolly long enough for Futo to recall that the Crown Prince had specifically noted that she had risen as a vengeful ghost. Ultimately, however, she shrugged. "You don't have to worry about that. I don't care for revenge."
Futo blinked. "Thou dost not?"
"I do sometimes feel like strangling you." Tojiko tilted her head. "But I don't think that's any different from the past."
Futo laughed. At least, she felt like she should laugh, but the sound came out strangely muted and brittle. "Thou mayst have uttered words to that effect in the past, yes."
"There you have it. Being a ghost isn't all bad, and I don't really care why you did it. And that's that. Is there anything that you'd like to say?"
Should she ask for forgiveness? But it almost seemed as though Tojiko had already granted her that. "I am sorry."
"Something you actually mean."
"I do mean it." Futo allowed her arms to fall. "Thou truly dost not care about my reasoning?"
"Not even a little."
Futo couldn't quite look at Tojiko. She looked instead at the flowers, at the uniform tender colour of the blossoms and how they swayed ever so gently in the wind. "They are lovely. I am glad to have seen them."
Tojiko nodded and said nothing further. Futo found herself speaking again as much to fill the silence as much as for her sudden need to know. "I suppose 'tis true what thou said back then."
Tojiko frowned. "What did I say and when?"
The sudden lump in Futo's throat was no doubt incidental. "'Tis of no significance."
"If you say so." Tojiko nodded, curt and matter-of-fact. Precisely as she had always been. For all that had changed, it was good that some things which had once been remained unaltered. "So. Everything's settled?"
Futo couldn't quite recognise the sentiment she felt. It was like a warm touch close to her heart which suddenly turned into claws. Regardless, she smiled. "Aye."
They left in mutual silence.
It wasn't a wise choice, holding out her hand, obviously meant to be reached for. Tojiko's lack of interest appeared to extend much further than to the cause of her death, and indeed Futo was now certain she had forgotten much of what had passed. But she couldn't help holding out hope.
Even so, her entire body jerked as a hand slid into hers.
Tojiko's hold felt different from what Futo remembered. Colder. More ephemeral. But solid and real all the same. She curled her fingers around Tojiko's all the tighter.
And as she turned to meet Tojiko's smile, she realised that perhaps the full extent of time and memories lost didn't matter all that much after all.