The lights in the horizon go out one by one, till even the last straggler runs out of power and is snuffed out for good.
You wait, wreathed in darkness. Faint lights pop up again as your rear guard bursts into action. In other words, Marisa has failed. It's not due to a lack of intellect or even a lack of hard work — you have seen the effort she puts into her studies and pitied she was born a human — but it's rather a desire to learn everything at once which led her to focus on nothing and muddling together what she did learn. It's maturity she lacks.
The scolding which you intend to give her must wait. It's with a triumphant smirk and a grand flourish that you unveil your wings and the flashy garments you have prepared for this confrontation.
The girl reacts with no more than a slight frown. Your smile widens.
You cast your first spell and watch her steer hastily out of the way. She's a talented one, this slip of a shrine maiden. You doubt even a drop of the blood of the ancient Hakurei clan flows in her veins — you'd be more surprised to hear she's a direct descendant than not, in fact — but she has a steadfastness to her, even at such a young age, that you can't help but acknowledge her potential even as you work to crush her.
A true Hakurei shrine maiden, you think as your ram yourself into her staff first, and watch her disengage from the impact, blinking and wavering, but unrelenting. There's a gleam to her eye that makes you feel strangely nostalgic, like you have already experienced this battle before; the determined shrine maiden against the impossibly powerful magician who she cannot possibly dream to beat. She really is something. Bold. Dedicated. Suitably insane for this insane world.
And alone.
It's a useless thought to have in the midst of battle, and you don't let it impede you as you unleash your next volley. Still, it clings on, like an irritating minion that doesn't understand its contributions aren't needed at the moment.
Of course she is alone. Everyone is, when you get right down to it. You have always been alone, too, from the mists of your life from which nothing but your purpose remains, and not once have you allowed it to bother you. The purpose is all you need.
The purpose which seems hollow, somehow, even as you watch the Hakurei Yin-Yang Orb hum with power and allow yourself to manifest an additional four wings.
Why have you clung to it for so long, you wonder as the girl manages a sneaky hit by swerving to the side before rushing you. Haven't you forsaken everything else tethering you to your needless past? Does remembering something truly make it worth preserving?
You open your palm and fill the sky with stars. The girl's eyes widen as she attempts to dodge them all, but it no longer amuses you as it would have a moment earlier. This is what you wanted, isn't it? A climactic showdown allowing for a monumental display of power while also letting you to claim the orb, as insignificant as its powers ultimately may be in the face of all you've gained since you began pursuing this goal. And an opportunity to kill the girl, of course.
But why?
Something's wrong with the flow of time. You look at yourself and see that somehow, in spite of everything, the girl has managed to plant her ofuda exactly where they needed to be to seal you.
You have just enough time to meet her eyes. There's no glee or triumph there, only relief. Relief, and surprise. On some level, she expected to die.
How many chances did you have to strike the decisive blow, you wonder as your essence contracts and your extremities slip away. Once at the very beginning, again when her side was struck by an errant orb, to speak nothing of when you truly unleashed your powers. So many openings, and the human body so fragile and squishy. And you let them all pass by.
And yet, as your vision fades till all you can see are those eyes, entirely familiar even though this is the first time you have ever truly looked at them, you can't bring yourself to entirely regret this outcome.