The Bell Tolls

Marisa,

Let's get the obvious out of the way first. If you're alive to read this, that means I'm dead.

You'd better be alive. Yukari promised me that the ritual would re-stabilise the border. Kick her butt for me if she lied and you're reading this as a ghost.

The things I left for you are in the boxes with blue labels on them. Don't touch the other stuff! If you insist, you can take some of the sake, but most of it's been ear-marked for Suika and Kasen. I don't know which consequence for stealing it would be worse, the walloping or the lecture.

I've been trying to think of what else to write in this letter for days now. It's been on my mind ever since I found out I'd die. More than once, I decided I just wouldn't write anything: I'd just explain what I'd written so far to you in person and leave it at that. Maybe I've turned into a coward, but in the end, I couldn't do it. Even when we were gazing at the stars together tonight and the perfect opportunity presented itself, I still couldn't say it.

I began writing this as soon as you left and the witching hour is already almost at an end. I need to hurry if I want to finish this on time.

Finding out I only had a week left to live wasn't a huge shock. At worst, it felt like being struck in the chest by a very small hammer. Sacrifices have to be made for Gensokyo. More often than not, they're human sacrifices, even if they're not usually this literal. I tried not to think about it and just lead a normal life whenever possible, but I knew this day could come soon. The border has been impossibly porous for months now, and we both know Yukari isn't as powerful as she likes pretending to be. Something needs to be done, and fast.

I knew all that, but I still thought Yukari was joking when she said this was the only choice. Or the best choice, anyway. The most likely choice to actually keep Gensokyo sealed off instead of being compressed right out of existence.

You know, I still don't know why all this is happening. The dissolution of the border should obviously result in Gensokyo merging Outside World instead of immediately annihilating it. There has to be someone behind all this. It's pretty annoying that this is the only way I can fight them.

Then again, I won't be the first person to die like this. I've never really learned much about the previous Hakurei shrine maidens, and for all I know, everything I have found out over the years is fabricated. Maybe there is no unbroken Hakurei bloodline. I could just be a regular village girl plucked from my birth home and assigned to this task because there was no-one else. Anyway, the point is that what I've learned is true, many of my predecessors died young while on the job. It's just how it goes, I think. It's one reason why I thought the spell card system was vital.

Anyway, whether I was always a Hakurei or not, I was still born to be a weapon. Maybe this way, I can die as a shield instead.

Sometimes I think the scariest thing about dying isn't dying itself, but not knowing when it's going to happen. Maybe Akyuu is lucky to be able to roughly estimate her next time of death, and maybe it's knowing the time that's keeping my fear at bay. I think I'm more annoyed than scared knowing I won't see another sunrise. The whole thing's kind of a hassle, really. Geez.

But I do have some regrets. I wanted to fly through the first snowfall of the year one more time. I wanted to hold one more festival. I wanted to have a proper one-on-one talk with the people I liked the most. I managed to get in touch with a few in time, but not all of them. 

And somehow, I managed to see you on every single day after I found out I would die without saying what I really wished to say.

I think you already know what it is. I really should have said it when you tilted your hat just a bit  to the side after putting it on the way you always do and your eyes sparkled with starlight. I've already thought the words a hundred times since. 

I feel silly writing this down. It's not my best-kept secret. But then, if I don't spell it out now, I never will.

I love you.

There. I've said it. And now that I've said it once, I can say it again. I love you.

I barely remember anything from before I met you. My life from before you flew into it is just a sketch that suddenly got coloured in. How many lazy afternoons have we spent together? How many cups of tea have we drank in each other's company? It's those things I think of first when I think about you. Not the dramatic incidents or the splashy fights, but sitting on the porch, talking about everything and nothing, arguing, making fun of things, eating, drinking, complaining about the weather... so many peaceful days, all years and seasons blending together with your smile as the constant.

By the way, I figured out you're the one who messed up that ritual all those years ago. You're a jerk. And don't tell me I'm one too. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead.

I should have told you I love you in person. Maybe I did once, in a drunken stupor that I've long since forgotten. I saw the look in your eyes time and time again that made it seem like you were about to ask. I know you're shier than you pretend to be, but I'm still surprised you never actually did it.

I used to think we both assumed it was too obvious for words. Now I see they would have made it too real. Or maybe just the right amount of real. Guess I'll never know.

Just like I'll never know for sure if you loved me back. I feel like I know the answer, but still. Maybe knowing how I feel about you is enough. Knowing how I feel about Gensokyo helped me accept my fate, just like knowing you'll live because of it makes it easier for me to breathe.

Dawn is drawing close. In other words, it's time. 

You'd better be alive to read this. Live long. Become a magician if that's what you really want. Support the next shrine maiden even if she turns out to be a colossal jerk. Keep looking at the stars in that thoughtful way of yours that keeps your smile so honest. Protect Gensokyo. And burn this letter.