LIGHTNOVELONLINE 23: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the [Not a Bomb]
Satori’s pets didn’t immediately notice her change in mood. They weren’t mind readers.
“Couldn’t we give ‘im all the cutouts?” asked Utsuho. “We don’t need ‘em anymore!”
“They still have value as prizes,” said Rin. “Also, who’d want a dozen cutouts of Koishi?”
“A surprising number of people, actually,” said Satori. “By the way, Mister Thorne and I are going to have a private conversation now.”
“Oh no,” said Utsuho. “Is he thinking saucy thoughts about you? Do we have to kill him?” Satori grimaced. My thoughts stayed locked on mortal danger. Satori wasn’t my type.
“Are we gonna scare him now?” asked Rin, eagerly. “For real? We don’t have to give him the prize if–”
The fourth person present said something in my defense. The demon cat and hell raven both frowned.
“What is it, then?” asked Rin.
“A private matter,” said Satori. She pulled out a coin bag. “Good work today, girls. Why don’t you reward yourselves with some yakitori?”
“I see what you’re doing, and I accept,” said Rin, swiping the purse.
“I love cannibalism!” said Utsuho. “But if you’re gonna kill him, wait for us to get back.”
“She’s kidding,” added Rin, speaking to me. “Our Master never kills anyone, even if they deserve it. Not even when it’s cold outside. So you’re perfectly safe… until we get back.” Rin’s former job had been finding corpses to burn, to keep hell hot, I recalled.
They shuffled out of the tent. I frowned at Satori and worried about how much trouble I was in.
Satori sighed. “Koishi, I know you are still here.”
My former companion said something about how she felt bad for me, and about how she was really good at keeping secrets, so couldn’t she just stay?
“I’m sorry,” said Satori. More conversation. “I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.”
The person who I wasn’t really worried about started to walk away. But then, she ran up and hugged me.
“It’ll be okay,” Koishi said, patting my back, as though she could read my mind and knew what I needed. She also had a third eye, I remembered, although it was always closed.
“Thanks,” I said. It made me feel better, at least for a moment.
Satori and I were alone. The diminutive youkai sighed. Her scary, exterior third eye kept glaring at me. She seemed to consider her words carefully. For several long seconds she didn’t say anything.
For several long seconds, I continued to incriminate myself.
I thought about how Sekibanki was undermining the relationship between youkai and humans. Sekibanki had been forthright with me in some ways. In fact, she’d been the most informative youkai of all, but that was anathema to how youkai functioned. Sekibanki had threatened my life over our secret meetings, saying that clarity with humans just wasn’t done and that she’d face harsh consequences if word got out. Her unknown friends–maybe Satori herself among them!–would be angry. Pissed, even. They might punish her!
Maybe Yukari herself would be angry. I involuntarily imagined the punishment Yukari might inflict, which would be the same one she gave for weak humans. Sekibanki and I were both weak, in the scheme of things.
Yukari could execute us. Not beheading for Sekibanki, obviously, nor hanging for that matter, and come to think of it a lethal injection might not even make sense for a youkai–but being kicked out of Gensokyo would mean death, for both of us–
“Jake, Jake, Jake,” said Satori. “Calm down. Koishi wasn’t lying. It’ll be okay, for both of you.”
I swallowed. I tried to believe her, but I just didn’t see how it could possibly be true. Satori had no reason to keep my secrets–did she?
But then, like a switch being flipped, I began to believe things would be okay. I wanted to believe they’d be okay. I wanted to live. Humans believe anything they are told, at least for a moment, and that was doing me some favors here. I tried to fairly consider the possibility I wasn’t totally fucked, even if I couldn’t see how; I tried to balance the biases of optimism and fatalism.
“I–” said Satori, before a bemused expression crossed her face. “You really like riddles, huh? I can feel the tension leaving you already… you are the only human I’ve ever met who can just tell themselves to be calm. Well. If you’ll indulge me, I’m telling you that your secret won’t be a problem. Given that fact, can you guess why?”
The biggest secret was that there was a secret, but the trick to most riddles was just knowing there was an answer. Once you knew there was an answer, you were halfway to the answer already.
What was the ‘answer’ to this actually not being a problem?
Well, the problem was that I was letting Sekibanki’s secret get out, which would have negative consequences for her. I was pretty sure I hadn’t overestimated the seriousness of the situation, but maybe Sekibanki had lied?
“Nope,” said Satori. “You’d be totally boned in other circumstances.”
Like, turned to bones? Or–
“Stay focused, Jake.”
Well, maybe I wasn’t really letting out a secret, then. Maybe everyone knew already and would politely go on pretending that Sekibanki wasn’t having secret meetings with humans? Did a lot of youkai do that?
“Not to my knowledge,” said Satori, “Which is pretty darn complete, by the way.”
Maybe it was just that Satori herself would keep the secret. Why would she, though? Maybe she really did like Sekibanki, and was her friend? Or maybe Satori had a similar secret and empathized? She probably didn’t need humans for information… but if she wanted them for other reasons, unmentionable reasons, she’d sympathize. Also Satori would be uniquely capable of setting up an arrangement of some sort, and her pets seemed to take it in stride that she wanted to be alone with a human…
“If you think you can read my face while prodding me with accusations, you are sorely mistaken,” said Satori, her cheeks slightly red. “I don’t meet humans in the village, especially not for things like that.”
If not her own secrets, maybe Satori was planning on forgetting this secret entirely, somehow? Just to keep things simple?
“You’re getting warmer,” said Satori. “This is kind of impressive. For a human.”
Something to do with forgetting? Could she do that deliberately? It might be useful, for an involuntary mind reader to have the option to erase knowledge… but I didn’t know of any specific abilities like that.
“Oh, you are so close,” said Satori. “Gosh, now I almost don’t want to tell you!”
She liked to watch me squirm. Maybe Satori was actually like Yukari, Remilia, and the rest. She might just be lying to me. I wished youkai would stop fucking with me for ten goddamn seconds–
“Nah, getting colder, way colder,” said Satori. “Sorry. Let me give you a hint. Nobody here is afraid of Komeiji Satori, the mind reader. Not humans, and not youkai. Why would that be?”
Previously, I’d thought that most secrets were mundane, so the fact that Satori knew about them didn’t matter. Everybody had things they’d rather not have known–so if a person knows those things about you, but also everyone else, in aggregate they don’t really lose much respect for you.
“My respect only grows,” she said.
Embarrassments were a universal experience. Just like with the government, being spied upon wasn’t so bad as long as you were boring. Was this a mundane secret? Maybe it wasn’t a big deal–
“No, it’s definitely a big deal,” said Satori. “But keep going.”
Okay, it was a big deal, but I shouldn’t be afraid. Maybe Satori would keep quiet… out of empathy? Maybe she really was actually just nice to everyone…?
She laughed. “Close enough. Actually, it’s because I don’t reveal deadly secrets. I have made an open, public promise never to reveal any youkai’s secrets, but especially not the ones that would be the most damaging.”
But she told Sasha that the male humans were jacking it in the shower!
“First, if you think that’s a secret, I can’t help you. Second, revealing human secrets is my nature, so those are fair game.”
That was bullshit. It was more human discrimination.
“Actually, it’s just that I don’t make promises I can’t keep. And when a human has a secret whose only consequence is embarrassment… it practically leaps from my lips.” She shrugged. I wasn’t sure if I believed Satori. She sighed.
She might just be lying until she could tattle on Sekibanki and myself. I’d have to pretend to believe her–no, act like I believed her even if she knew I didn’t–because if she was lying I was totally fucked either way. And there was nothing I could do about it anyway.
“Jake, consider this: did she tell you to avoid me?”
Well, no, but it may have seemed obvious to Sekibanki that you’d avoid mind readers when you had secrets. She wouldn’t bother stating the obvious, it would be like reminding me to not think aloud. Satori frowned.
“That’s why I had to make the public promise in the first place,” she said. “So that others would stop avoiding me… at least, people who know me, and know about the promise.” Her eyes were ever-so-slightly downcast.
The nature of the situation changed instantly. If what Satori was saying was true…
If she went so far as to make public declarations to avoid the very thing I had done…
I remembered that Satori’s kind were universally feared and shunned, for an ability about which they had no choice. I remembered that her sister, Koishi, had destroyed her third eye under the burden of all that involuntary hatred. In doing so she had nearly destroyed herself. That was ‘defying your nature’ in Gensokyo.
And if Satori had to strangle herself to participate in society, of course it would be about the deadly secrets, and not trivial human matters.
That meant I’d ostracized Komeiji Satori for no reason. I was so, so sorry–
“Save it,” she said with a grumble. “Sasha told me you were a shame-filled pervert, and I believed her without a second thought. No–she didn’t literally tell me, she thought about it in my presence, although it is good to know that you care a little about her opinion. The point is, we have misjudged each other, so I’ll forgive you if you’ll forgive me.”
“Of course,” I said. She winked.
“You might be top fifty percent for perversion, but you should be proud!” The fiftieth percentile just wasn’t that impressive, when you thought about it. “True. Ugh, math. I was messing with you. You could pretend to be perturbed, at least.”
“Hmm,” I said or thought.
“I’m lying, of course. You can’t pretend anything to me.”
“So you aren’t gonna say anything to Yukari about–”
“Hold on a second,” said Satori, holding up a hand. She pointed toward a shadowy corner. “Yukari, this is a private conversation, so please don’t butt in!”
“Very well,” said the corner. A moment passed.
“Okay, she’s gone again.”
“You… you can read Yukari’s mind!” Maybe she could tell me what Yukari was plotting! Also, like fucking Voldemort, saying Yukari’s name made her appear.
“Hell no,” said the pink-haired youkai. “Well, I can read it… sort of… I can read it the same way you read ‘fire’ from ‘smoke’, except Yukari smokes like crazy–not crack, I mean she puts off gasses–no! She sits in a gap for convenience!–I said sits, Jake–you know what–just, just don’t think of a pink elephant!”
Satori sighed and appreciated my musings on whether pink elephants got that color from eating shrimp or shedding their skin.
“You were reminding me of Wiki there for a moment. Anyway, Yukari does her best to quiet her thoughts when I’m around, which is polite, and also when she is spying on me, which is even more polite. Listening to her mind is like listening to a hundred conversations.”
I wondered if Yukari actually could duplicate herself, or at least her attention. Satori didn’t provide an answer.
“Anyway, I can always tell when she’s around, in about the same way you’d probably notice that it’s hard to breathe near a wildfire.”
“Wait, if she can quiet her mind, how do you know she isn’t still spying on us?”
“Oh, I suppose she could be spying,” said Satori. “If anyone could solidify the boundary between minds without destroying her own, it would be her. But I’d eventually figure that out by reading her mind, or reading the silence in her presence, and she wants to keep a good working relationship with me… so the risk is low.”
“I–”
“Especially for a bottom-tier secret like this one!” she shouted. It did not inspire confidence.
“I thought her mind was incomprehensible?” How would Satori read it, later, to know that Yukari had been spying?
“If I try to explain the intricacies of what I can pull from the minds of gods and what is beyond my comprehension, we’ll be here all day. Anyway, you could always just think about your secret if it makes you more comfortable. I’m practiced enough to give very little away with my side of the conversation.”
I thought real hard about Sekibanki apparently also hiding things from Yukari, somehow, and please wouldn’t Satori explain that as well–
“No can do,” she said. “That’s another secret I shouldn’t divulge. Although, if you do ever figure it out, you’re going to be upset with how stupid it is.”
“Wha–”
“I’m going to give you some free advice now, Jake, because I like you. Sorry, not that much. But, by revealing herself to you, your… friend, is taking a bigger risk than necessary, both to you and to her. It would probably be best for you both if you stopped meeting. It’s bad for her…” Satori gave a pained smile. “Continued well-being.”
Why?
“I’m afraid I can’t explain.” She grimaced. “You are hanging on my every word. I can’t even give you a half-explanation, lest you infer the whole thing, or something wrong that gets me into trouble.”
But–
“That’s all I had to say, Jake. And to tell you that your secret’s safe with me. And maybe you should visit the chicken coop with Sasha, to prove to her that you aren’t a pansy. Anyway, pick one of these cutouts–no, you know what, you can have two.” She clapped a hand on my back.
I looked around the chamber. After some careful thought I made my decision. Satori could read my mind, so she knew how I chose, and the knowledge made her give me a hug just like her sister had.
“I said you could have any cutout, so I’ll stand by it. Oh and the radiometer’s fake, so stop worrying about that. You’re welcome.”
I left the haunted house feeling a lot better than when I had entered.
—
“You chose the fucking monkey!” said Sasha, laughing. “Also… you opened the hatch!?”
“Wow,” said Arnold. “Not even I’d choose that!” I was standing outside the door. Dragging two wooden cutouts back to the dorm had been difficult. My roommates still couldn’t see the other one that I’d leaned up against the wall.
“Opening the hatch was the smart play,” I said. “I got rewarded, didn’t I?”
“I meant taking the monkey.”
“It’s an ape,” said Wiki. He was sullenly sitting on the floor, with some pieces of paper scattered around him. He was surrounded by stationary and markers, as though he were a kid working on a school project. “No tail: not a monkey.”
“Also, I took two,” I said, stepping back so they could look at my Koishi cutout. The anime-style drawing was smiling and making a peace sign. “Did you know these are self-portraits?”
Wiki perked up a bit. “Oh! It was Koishi! That explains so much.”
“Who?” asked Arnold. “Also, I’d have gone with the tiger. This one’s cute, I guess, but I’m not really into anime.”
You could hear a pin drop.
“I was kidding, guys.”
“Oh thank god,” said Sasha.
“You’re on thin ice, buddy,” said Wiki.
“If there’s one thing I miss about the outside world, it’s anime,” I admitted. AI might have been on track to murder humanity, but at least it had made some awesome fucking anime first.
“I still don’t know who she is, though,” said Arnold.
Wiki reminded Arnold that Koishi was Komeiji Satori’s sister, the one that could not be perceived or remembered. Arnold was left scratching his head.
“And Koishi is her name? Well, I’ll remember her now.”
“We’ll see about that,” said Wiki. “This is the fourth time we’ve had this conversation, by the way.”
“I forget a lot of things you say,” he said, perhaps in his defense.
“No, this is definitely her power, which I’m pretty sure depends on proximity, recency, and intensity.” He went on to explain that Sasha, himself, and I were inoculated against the effect, by actually knowing things about Koishi and Satori before coming to Gensokyo. “And the other one’s Satori herself, isn’t it?”
“The butt-ugly one?” asked Sasha with a frown that grew deeper.
“Yeah,” said Wiki. Sasha and him examined the youkai cutout that looked like a scared, wrinkly bigfoot with claws. “This does look like a traditional depiction of a satori. They were apes that would meet lone travelers and follow them, shouting all their thoughts aloud. They are impossible to escape, because they’re able to see your plans as you think them.”
“That sounds like her,” said Sasha.
“This is also painted very well… so the ugliness has to be on purpose.”
“It’s what’s on the inside that counts,” she replied, her frown fading.
“I found myself thinking the same thing, recently,” I said.
“I’m glad we have the cutout, though,” said Wiki. He was looking at the picture of Koishi again. “When you think about it, this is a Koishi Detector!”
“How’s that?” I asked.
“If we ever forget who this cutout is supposed to be, it means that she’s nearby, doesn’t it?”
“Wouldn’t we have to remember that very fact?”
“I’m writing it down,” he said. Wiki grabbed a gel pen from the floor. After some scribbling he slapped a sticky note to my cutout.
“Where’d you get that?” I asked. There was still a mess of papers and pens scattered about.
“Kourindou,” he said. “Where else? Same with the pens, although I gave most of them to Reika.”
“I bet you did,” said Arnold. “When was this?”
“Like twenty minutes ago,” he said.
“Oh…” continued Arnold. “You give her so many gifts, eh?”
Wiki shrugged. “She’s been telling me a lot about how things work in the human village. And she’s interested in youkai facts, unlike most of the natives… she might be the only sane human here, even! So if gifts make her happy, I might as well.”
“Are you dating?” asked Sasha, saving the rest of us the trouble. He opened his mouth, closed it, then said he’d get back to her on that. “You have been bathing surprisingly often. I should have known.”
Wiki sighed. He sat back down on the floor. “I’m going to get back to work on this, so do me a favor and shut the hell up.”
“What is this?” I asked.
“My plans to defeat the youkai of Gensokyo,” he said. “Without danmaku.”
“What?”
“Well, originally I was brainstorming ways to surreptitiously kill vampires. However, we’ve recently learned that it is a particularly dangerous profession to go into, especially if you have to do things like touch books.” He gathered some of the papers up. “So I pivoted. I’m brainstorming, considering everything I know about youkai and humans and how we might best leverage our unique talents and position to get better treatment.”
“He’s forming a union,” said Sasha. “I’m going to make the badges.”
“No, actually. I think the best strategy is going to be trying to recruit Reimu and Marisa, who are undoubtedly the most powerful humans in Gensokyo. With them on our side we can start trying to change things.”
“Lobbying,” spat Sasha. “Nevermind, then.”
“Aren’t you…” I said, not sure how to gently word my concern. “Aren’t you worried that trying to disrupt the balance of power in Gensokyo might… I don’t know. Paint a target on your back?”
“Remilia has cursed me,” he said. “That ship has sailed.”
“But, you really could become a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
Wiki pushed up his glasses. “There are two ways you can respond to a prophecy. Option one: you can run like a coward and lose anyway. Option two: you can fight, and make it hard for fate to take you down, and maybe even earn some sort of happy resolution. I’m trying to go with option two.”
Maybe it was the Komeiji sisters’ influence, but I thought the moment was right. I opened my arms to see if he wanted a hug. Wiki stared at me like I’d grown an extra head, frowned, grimaced, then came in and gave me a hug.
“I’m so happy for you and your bravery,” I said. It helped that, for the first time, I felt like someone else in Gensokyo wanted more or less the same things that I wanted.
“Thanks…” he said, patting my back with a hand that was full of papers. “I do have some favors to ask, though.”