Here we go with another of my initial catchup attempts going ahead. There are... What, four left to do?
For a time there was no movement in the shrine. Kiyoshi had fled after ensuring Makoto was comfortable, deciding that perhaps remaining here would not be in his best interests for the time being. Passersby wouldn’t see it, couldn’t even try to catch sight of what transpired next. Yet there it was all the same. Just outside the field of vision. Like someone had reached out and opened up the sky itself as though the world were simply a gift-wrapped box.
From behind a tree just outside the shrine, a tall and thin man walked out. He stared for a time at the shrine entrance, his face an unreadable scowl. Others avoided him, flowed around him like a river around a rock, almost as if they had no idea at all he was even there. There he remained until Makoto’s eyes flickered open, and then the man stepped forward, passing through the entrance and striding big, impossibly large strides forward directly towards the confused miko.
“I don’t remember how I got here, and that’s a fact,” Makoto said, rubbing her head and feeling a little wobbly. A shadow cast over her, and she stared up at the person casting it. She took a sharp intake of breath and was on her feet in moments. “Ah! My sincerest apologies!” she said with a steep bow. “It was not my intention to sleep on the job, and that’s a fact! Please forgive this humble miko, and grace this temple with your presence.”
“Do you know what I am?” the man asked. His voice was melodic, as though someone were playing a beautiful harp piece and keeping vocal tune with it. “Your words indicate you might, and it might make this simpler if you do.”
Makoto simply looked up at him, confused but still quite apologetic. “I fear it will not be simple then,” she said. “I do not believe we have met before. I have a good eye for faces, and that’s a fact.”
“Oh,” the man said with a weary sigh. “Then I’d best get this over with.” He kneeled down, drawing head height equal to Makoto’s, and she backed off slightly as the most peculiar sensation began to buzz through her head. “The eyes are the windows to the soul,” the man said. “I would like you to look into mine, so that I may peer into yours.”
It was reflexive, really. She just glimpsed for a moment and then… Gone. The world fell away, temple and all. It was as though Makoto was surrounded by familiar thoughts and feelings. Of guilt. Of hope. Of memories, remembrance for times when she was selfish and other times where she was selfless. All around her in a swirling vortex with only the two of them in the middle of it, the eye of the storm.
The only way she could think of to describe the experience was… Glorious.
But all good things must some day end and so too did this all too quickly. Makoto took in a sharp gulp of air, and realised she had only just remembered how that whole breathing thing was a rather big deal. All she could do was sink to her knees and try desperately to try to hold on to the image, but the harder she tried the more it slipped away! No! Come back! It was so wonderful, and she… And she… And she couldn’t even remember how wonderful it was anymore. All she could do was touch at her cheek and wonder why it was damp.
“Well, this is a surprise,” said the man, bringing Makoto out of her… second bout of confusion in the last minute? My goodness, but clearly more training was required! A miko should not be so easily confounded! “I count three impossibilities in your soul. If not for any one of them, I’d have erased your memory of this meeting and gone on my merry way, but that is no longer an option.”
“I must apologise for my tardiness,” Makoto said, bowing deeply once again. “If there is any service you require, please name it and I shall attend to it immediately! And that’s a fact!”
The man’s seemingly impenetrable scowly mask broke into a wide grin. Friendly, disarming, peaceful. The kind of face that didn’t even seem to know what anger was. “Of course, my dear. Of course. I should introduce myself. I am… a higher being.” As if to demonstrate this further, he flexed his back muscles and a pair of ethereal wings made of bright and beautiful light sprung forth, leaving Makoto speechless in reverence and her heart pounding at understanding what she was in the presence of.
“I would not normally investigate an incident like this personally,” the… divine being with the guise of a man said. “But I was in the area on an unrelated issue. Demonic influence upon holy ground was certainly an intriguing enough occurrence to merit attention while I was in the area, you quite understand?”
Makoto nodded, numbly.
“Good. Now, as to the impossibilities I mentioned and what I would like you to do about them.
The first: There are traces of demonic energies within your soul. They are being subsumed by your spiritual immune system - ah, forgive me, that’s not entirely accurate but it is the best way to explain it to a mortal - and this part is not too unusual by itself. The trouble is that this is succubus energy, which… is impossible because their abilities can only influence men save under extraordinary circumstance. Not even a lesbian can fall under their corruptive influence normally.
The second: It would appear that the succubus energy was almost entirely drained out of your body shortly after it was introduced. This makes no sense. It indicates that whichever one did it did so by accident, and likely attempted to rectify their mistake before they broke our treaty.
The third: Your spiritual immune system has had a peculiar reaction to the energy. You are, I regret to inform you, no longer human. You are… Unique. The divine counterpart to a succubus used to be what a human might call a “cupid”, an angel of love to battle demons of lust. You, my dear Makoto, appear to have been transformed into something that has never existed before… an angel of lust.
“And that, as you say, is the fact.”
Makoto opened her mouth several times to ask questions about what had just been told to her, but couldn’t quite articulate what she wanted to say. This must make the third time she was confused in about as many minutes, which left her able to say only one thing.
“I need to increase the intensity of my training,” Makoto said. “And that’s a fact!”
“Hm, yes, I suppose you will need some training in your new abilities,” the man said. “I’ll be sure to have texts delivered regarding all the known succubus abilities, to see if they can help you work some things out. In the meantime, it is my solemn duty to <b>command</b> you: Uncover what has transpired, identify those responsible and then summon me for the report. You will know how to do this last when the time is right. Good day, my dear Makoto, and good luck. We shall meet again.”
And off he went strolling out of the shrine with nary a care in the world. Makoto stared after him for a while and concentrated. Now that he drew it to her attention, she did feel kind of peculiar. Sort of like… her clothes were wrong? Or something?
<hr>
You know, it’s kind of curious the reaction from the general public to a certain brand of popular vampiric fiction. Is it because it’s poorly written? Nope. Is it because the ethics and morality it espouses are questionable? Not even remotely. Is it because the characters are unlikeable, unrealistic, unsympathetic idiots? Or perhaps because damn all of any narrative sense occurs within? Haha, what world are you living in?
Truth be told, it’s because… The vampires aren’t <i>real</i> vampires. Whatever that means. A bunch of guys got together, saw the sparkly glitter and thought to themselves “That’s wrong!” You know, while ignoring the simple fact that there are many, many, many vampiric legends all over the world, each with their own little twists and turns based on the culture that developed upon it. These people see it as a masculine creature, a monster of the night that has in their eyes been wussified. Big freaking deal. I have to ask these people, are they aware of what the plot to Bram Stoker’s Dracula actually was? I mean, he was no “wuss” by any means, but he was rather a romantic creature in a sense. Romance is part of the vampire mythos almost as much as bloodsucking. So, basically, get over it and complain about the stuff that matters: i.e. the complaints of the first paragraph of this section.
May seem like a bit of an odd divergence in the middle of this particular episode, but there is a point to it. That point being, Sachiko was reading a book from that particular series on the couch in her home, and similar thoughts to the more typical critic/hater of that deliberately unnamed franchise were swirling around her older sister’s head as she tried to avoid looking at it. Those aren’t <i>real</i> vampires, she would think to herself. Real vampires were, in her estimation, creatures of night and shadow that preyed upon the innocent to feast on their blood. The only reason she could conceive they may attempt a romantic fling was, to put it simply, to get close enough to someone for a bit of a nibble. They were not people. They had no need for romance. They (typically) reproduced in a distinctly non-sexual manner, therefore could ignore any such urges in favour of a quick meal.
Sachiko sighed and clutched the book to her chest. “So romantic,” she said. “The way he watches over her in her sleep.”
<i>That’s not romantic, that’s the opposite of romantic!</i>
“Are you feeling alright, Suzu?” the younger of the sisters suddenly asked. “Your eye is doing that twitchy thing again.”
“Oh, no,” Suzu insisted. “I’m quite alright. You get back to your book, just ignore me.” Yes. Get back to your book about things pretending to be vampires breaking into people’s room at night to stare at them in their sleep. After all, what could be more romantic than a supernatural entity sneaking into your room at night for the sole purpose of sitting and staring and watching and waiting?
The damnable thing was, Suzu couldn’t think of anything. And she was trying. Really, honestly trying. Alright. Forget that. Just head back to your room, ignore the little smirk on Sachiko’s face as she tries to get a rise out of you, and -
There was something on her bed. A bag of some kind. Jet black. Red pentagram right in the middle. It had not been there earlier. Suzu’s fingers reached out and she could feel her breathing come out in quick bursts, going faster by the second. She had a vague idea of what would be in there, but had to see for herself… The bag was tipped upside down onto the mattress, and for a moment Suzu stared at it, knowing roughly what to expect but still unbelieving of just what she was seeing.
“Sachiko!” she yelled, running back into the living room with the item in question gripped firmly at arm’s length. “What is the meaning of this?! Why was there a ‘sexy witch outfit’ on my bed?!”
“Oh, that?” the younger of the two said, licking her finger to turn the corner of the book. “Well, it was on sale, it was just your size, and I thought it was kind of a shame how you hate supernatural things so much. I thought it might rekindle your interest. After all! You used to love it. Um… Sis, you’re doing that twitchy thing with your eye again.”
Yes, yes, it was true. Not just the eye thing. The fact that she used to be a little… enthusiastic about the supernatural. The bizarre, the otherworldly, the alien, the magical, the wondrous. But she’d grown out of that by now! Such things were for the young, such things were for the immature! Or at least that’s what she told others that asked. All truth told, she ached to wear that outfit. It was indeed just her size, and she’d look so cute in it, and… No, no, no!
“I have something in my eye,” she lied, rubbing at it in a futile attempt to convince the girl in front of her as much as it was to convince herself. “And you can wipe that smirk off your face! Honestly, I don’t know what you were thinking buying this for me.”
“Hm, something like, ‘I bet Kiyoshi’d like that’,” Sachiko said, all innocence and smiles as she turned another page in the book.
“No, he wouldn’t!” Suzu yelled, a great deal louder than she’d intended. “No. He’s not like that. Not at all! But you know what, maybe I’ll go over and pay him a visit. After all, he won’t be so obsessed with the supernatural as some people around here, right?”
“Right,” Sachiko agreed. “But it’s interesting you used the plural form there, and it’s just the two of us living here.”
The comment was ignored, and Suzu stormed back into her room to toss the damnable costume into the very back of her wardrobe, where it could stay and rot. Suzu stopped upon closing the door and stared at herself in the mirror, taking a moment to straighten out her hair. Alright. So she’d hung out with Kiyoshi a little earlier on, but surely he’d be finished with his usual business by now. Right? She straightened out her hair. It always got like this when she thought about… <i>that</i> stuff. It was like someone put a static charge through her head and her heart. Every time. Well, whatever. She knew Kiyoshi wasn’t… Wasn’t into that sort of stuff. He was a sensible boy, able to distinguish between fantasy and reality.
There would be nothing remotely supernatural anywhere near him. And for the sake of her sanity, that was just the way Suzu wanted it.
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