Yakumo Yukari Gapped Me to Another World; Now I'm Trapped in the Human Village Full of Pathetic Touhou Maniacs

“How was work?” asked Arnold. We were walking back to the village as a group. Needles was escorting us, and was pulling on some guy’s hair whenever he lost sight of her. She had long green hair of her own.

“Awful,” I said. “It’s been three days, and I can barely get Maroon to see letters, much less duplicate them.”

She seemed to draw random squiggles instead of any particular letter I put down. It was supremely frustrating, especially since she was so earnest. I didn’t believe for a second that she was messing with me, either, like I might believe of the other fairies.

“Patchouli’s not even there half the time,” I added.

“She trusts you not to steal books?”

“No. She instructed three demons to watch my every move!” At least they didn’t make faces when I wasn’t looking, like some of the fairies.

“Ah, well, maybe this will cheer you up.”

Arnold turned and decked me in the face. Except, it went right through my head, hat and all. I felt the faintest surge of motivation and strength. It was excellent timing, since we were passing the lake.

“Nice!” I high-fived him, which didn’t go through for confusing but not-immediately-concerning reasons. “You can do danmaku!”

“Oh yeah.” He swung his ax through the air, making me flinch even though it was nowhere near me. “I haven’t tried it with the ax, yet. Master Hong was willing to risk injury–she ‘gets stabbed a lot anyway’–but I want to do things right!”

“What do you mean?”

“Safety,” he said. “I don’t want to risk hurting Master Hong, even if she’s a dragon.”

“She’s a what now?!” exclaimed Needles, and we had to explain to her that we were just speculating.

“Good for you,” I said, patting his back. “By the way, what’s your danmaku emotion?”

His smile became a bit fixed. “I was thinking of a lady when I swung at you. Not of punching her, though!”

“I… see!” That was a positive sort of emotion, I was pretty sure. “Do you mind if we stop here for a minute?”

“Pbpbpbpbt!,” said Needles, flying up into a tree. “That means ‘yes!’ Write it down!” She had teased me and Maroon a few times, before Patchouli buried her with a gesture.

Most of the men sat down and started quiet conversations. The martial artists (‘meatheads’ was too mean for me to keep using it) were tired after another long day of training and working. It wasn’t the remorseful fatigue of physical labor, but more like joyous exhaustion. They were tired from playing too much.

They were happy. It was perfect for the lake, and the mermaid I suspected was lingering near the surface. Once or twice I even imagined that I heard someone singing.

“You sure do love the lake,” said Arnold. He sat in the rocky dirt.

“Yeah,” I said. I skipped a stone over the mist-shrouded water, confident that any aquatic observers could dodge. “Don’t you?”

“It’s pretty tranquil… it reminds me of Blue Lake, actually.”

“Where’s that?”

He waved his hand. “It was a lake a few miles into this national park I liked to visit.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“That’s just what we called it. It wasn’t big enough to be on maps.” Arnold laid back, staring at a blue sky. “It was beautiful. Blue, too.”

“A straightforward name.”

“Lakes don’t need to be complicated,” he said, glancing out at the fog above Misty Lake. “I used to go backpacking there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I loved it. Crossing the utilization line was like going back in time.”

“‘Utilization line…’” I said.

It tickled something in my mind, a half-remembered line from an article I’d read. The phrases ‘regulated utilization zone’ and ‘ecophagy’ leapt to mind. Then I remembered. ‘Utilization lines’ were drawn around landfills and national parks, because different places had different rules for ‘utilization,’ which was a fancy way of saying ‘feeding the recyclers.’ Recyclers were allowed to take the entirety of a landfill, and almost nothing from a forest.

My stomach turned. The article I remembered had been talking about violations, about terrain digested down to bedrock. I tried to ignore my concerns about the Outside World, because I didn’t want to make anyone sick, and I didn’t live there anymore, anyway.

“I miss the park,” Arnold said. “You know, they stopped letting people in after a while.”

“Makes sense.”

“I guess Gensokyo’s just the same, huh?”

“I suppose. Not many people know about it, which helps.” Even fewer believed in it.

“I don’t like building new houses, though.”

‘Maintenance’ had been a lot of that, recently; setting up new dorms. We’d stopped working the fields to carry wood and slate. I’d seen Nitori around as well. The new dorms had plumbing, and we’d been setting it up with her direction. Pipe was heavy; most of the martial artists had been carrying it.

Other people were learning ancient Japanese woodworking techniques, which made me feel a bit jealous, but I had too many pots boiling to volunteer to work extra maintenance shifts. The rumor was that Yukari was going to bring a few hundred more humans to Gensokyo once we were finished.

“Why not?” I asked. “Even four hundred more people won’t make much of a difference, either way. Maybe we’ll get more women, eh?”

He didn’t speak for a long time. “I’m just remembering what happened at the park. There were too many people, so they had to close it off. Too much theft and littering.” Littering was a word that had inverted; it meant ‘picking up litter,’ to sell it.

“I don’t think that’ll happen here,” I said. “Yukari won’t let that many people in.”

“It’s still the same thing, isn’t it? We’re just lucky enough to be… chosen.” He’d closed his eyes, and I realized he didn’t feel optimistic–or maybe he did, in a weird way. He felt optimistic enough to remember the Outside World.

We had some distance from it, by then.

I wondered what Arnold was holding in. I wondered if there were people he missed. He hadn’t spoken much about his family, but he was well-adjusted enough that I suspected he had one.

Arnold was being uncharacteristically somber. I had no idea how to comfort him–or if I even understood what his emotion was. I considered telling him that we ‘deserved’ to be here, but I thought that wouldn’t cheer him up. We weren’t especially deserving. He was right that we were lucky.

“Well, let’s do the best we can with what we are given,” I said. “I’m happy to be here.”

“Me too,” he said. “It’s like a dream come true… a simple village, with simple problems.”

“We are beset by monsters.”

“Yeah, well,” he said. “Simple enough. At least it’s lots of pretty women.”

“Hypothetically that’s a benefit.” He laughed.

“Also no garbage. No needles.”

“I’m right here!” shouted Needles, flying down to interrupt us. “Let’s go, lazy humans! The sun will be setting soon!”

We all stood up and shuffled back toward the road, but Arnold stopped short. “Would you look at that,” he said.

“What is it?” I asked. He bent over to grab something. It was a green pebble. It looked almost like a chunk of soap.

“Jade,” he said. “Called ‘nephrite,’ because people used to think it could cure kidney disease. I was just thinking about how I used to take rocks out of the park.” He turned the rock over in his hands. “It’s kind of fun to see it here.”

“Is that… odd?” I asked. I suspected that Wakasagihime had left it there; Sekibanki had said something about her leaving stones as gifts.

“No, it’s common enough,” he said. “A global stone.” We walked.

“Didn’t you study geology?”

“Yes, I did.” He smiled at the rock. “A roughneck needs to know his stones. It’s beautiful. I think I’ll keep it.”

—

“You know I can read your mind, right?” said Satori. She turned a chicken over and looked at its feet. It squawked and gently put one clawed foot on her nose. Her third eye lifted to view its side, and I wondered about the musculature of the tubes holding the eye up.

“You remind us every five minutes,” said Sasha. She huffed and scraped another shovelful of dung out from under the coop. “I do appreciate learning that Jake isn’t opposed to eating boogers ‘in principle,’ but did you have to tell him I check under my bed for monsters?”

“Fair’s fair,” I said, grateful that Satori balanced her revelations. “Also, all I’ll say about checking for monsters is that you were unusually well-prepared for Gensokyo.”

“I was talking to the chicken,” Satori said, before turning to me. “Jake, because I can read your mind, I know exactly what you are thinking about. And I can tell you that Sasha would accept your offer, even if she’d never bring it up herself.”

“Really?” I asked, intrigued. “I thought it would be… I don’t know.” I’d offended Sasha by accident approximately every single time I’d ever spoken to her.

“Eh?” asked Sasha, confused.

“Most of your days will soon be spent at the Scarlet Devil Mansion,” Satori continued. “That means you guys won’t get another chance for a while!”

“A chance for what?” asked Sasha.

“There’s a secluded place over there.” Satori went on. She pointed down the hill toward a clearing in the trees. “It’s just far enough away from the village. I can keep watch, if you’d like? Don’t worry about slacking off, I know it won’t take you long, what with your limited stamina.”

Sasha glared at the mind-reader.

“Heh,” said Satori.

I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb. “Wanna fight, toots?”

“If I didn’t before, calling me ‘toots’ would convince me.” She set the shovel aside. “Bring it, bitch. Danmaku, or fisticuffs?”

“Danmaku, of course,” I said. “Who even says ‘fisticuffs’?”

“It’s nicer than saying I’ll put my boot up your ass,” she said.

“He thought about ‘fisting’ when you said fisticuffs,” added Satori. “Oh, now he’s actually thinking about fistfighting, nevermind.”

“I’ll kick your ass either way,” said Sasha.

“At fisticuffs or fisting?” asked Satori. Even as she grinned her third eye stared forward in mute consternation.

“At danmaku! It’s literally impossible for you to misunderstand me!”

“I wouldn’t say that,” said Satori. “Also, don’t forget that if you actually want to harm the person, you actually will. Also, also, you don’t have to leave the village to beat each other up the old-fashioned way, so if you really want to harm each other you can start immediately.”

“I don’t want to harm anybody,” I said as Sasha made a similar objection. Sasha’s eyes narrowed, and I gave her a skeptical look.

“I know I don’t want to hurt you,” said Sasha, “So why’d she give the warning?”

“How sure are you that you don’t want to hurt me?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I believed her, even if I believed that she believed that she was being honest.

“I love being a mind-reader,” said Satori. “Be safe, kids!”

We walked toward the bottom of the hill.

“She was fucking with us,” said Sasha.

“I am fucking with you,” corrected the mind reader, from up the hill. I decided to try not to care, but I was a little bit happy that Satori was having fun.

I psyched myself up as much as possible; soon, I’d be furthering my goal of protecting humanity by helping Sasha grow stronger. I’d also be showing off my strength in that endeavor. Acknowledging that I wanted to show off helped, a bit; danmaku was partially about showing off.

Sasha also seemed motivated. That didn’t make me feel weaker; if anything, my will to battle was reinforced.

“Our fight will be glorious,” I said, making her snicker. “By the way, what’s your danmaku emotion?”

“Rude question!” called Satori from up the hill. “Never ask a lady about her emotions!”

“That’s terrible fucking advice,” said Sasha. We walked a few dozen paces from each other, so she was also starting to raise her voice. “My emotions are nunya, though.”

“Satori?” I called.

“She’s thinking ‘nunya, bitch,’” said the mind reader. “Hope that helps!”

“Thanks!” I said. She gave me a thumbs-up. I spoke to Sasha, my voice still a bit loud. “If you ever feel like sharing your feelings, just let me know!”

“I’ll share my feelings right now!” A circle of green arcs escaped her, a burst that was waist-high, although a few went off into the sky at odd angles.

I dove over the one that came near me, my heart pounding. Then I released a torrent of red vectors straight at Sasha, holding out my hand to aim it. My output slowed to a trickle; a vector every second or two. I wasn’t strong enough for continuous fire.

Sasha jerked to the side. The vectors weren’t homing or anything, and they were only a bit faster than running speed. If she didn’t stand still, I doubted I would hit her; she paced away, stumbling a bit because her eyes were locked on me and my bullets. When I tried to aim ahead she switched direction and went between shots without getting hit.

“I think my first shot actually hit you,” she called, slashing her arm and sending an arc toward me. I ducked it instead of side-stepping. I was trying to think vertically in anticipation of my ability to fly. Sasha must have noticed; her next crescent came sideways, and I was forced to step aside. She was releasing direct fire, now.

“No fair!” I called. “I was speaking!” I meant ‘being direct’, that is, firing straight at her. Sasha had opened with defensive bursts; it was natural I’d respond with offensive moves, and also somewhat expected, at least according to our lessons. I was annoyed, because now I’d have to switch.

“Yeah, I’ll speak now,” said Sasha. She held out her hand, and the stream of smaller crescents burst forth, a straight line. They were faster, too. Direct fire tended to be.

“Two people can both be direct!” called Satori, contradicting our teacher Keine on the subject. “Two other people, anyway! You two need mind readers to help!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping watch,” I mumbled. I could dodge pretty easily, just like Sasha had.

“I have an extra eye out!” Satori retorted. She walked down the hill to stand closer, which made more sense after I thought about it for a second. She was technically escorting us a few dozen feet outside the village; any threats would come from the other direction.

Sasha took a few steps forward. I tried to release a burst. Five or six small vectors shot out in random directions. Undirected fire was supposedly less taxing, but I’d already spent a lot so it made some sense.

On the other hand, I was fairly certain I was just bad at emitting emotion in every direction.

“You can do better than that!” said Sasha. I wove between a few green blades of light. She continued her approach; I wouldn’t be able to dodge if she released a burst from right beside me. I could see that she was flagging; her crescents were coming every few seconds, now.

Getting closer made it harder for her to dodge, too.

I lifted my hand. I accidentally aimed high, but Sasha either wasn’t willing or wasn’t fast enough to throw herself to the ground. She was impaled by five red danmaku shots in about a second.

Sasha bowed, scowling. I bowed back. Everyone I’d defeated so far has done it; I’d always been fighting them to practice, so the compulsion had never made my opponents do anything else. At some point I’d have to try to direct the compulsion, but the heat of battle made me forget about the possibility.

“I thought you were outta juice,” said Sasha. “That was tricky.” Her voice was light, but I could hear the frustration.

“I’m just bad at undirected fire.” We walked back up the hill. “I wasn’t trying to trick you.”

“Is he lying?” Sasha asked Satori.

“Nope,” she said. “Using me like a lie detector will damage your relationship, by the way. You should learn to trust Jake. He trusts you.”

I felt embarrassed. Satori wore a self-satisfied smile. Sasha thought something, I was pretty sure, and Satori went on before I could speak.

“Actually, he is top decile for trustworthiness.” Satori laughed. “No, you can’t necessarily trust me about it.”

“Top decile?” I said. “That’s it?”

“Arrogant,” said Sasha. She wasn’t wrong, but around Satori I was already learning to be open about my feelings, even the ugly ones. The youkai made it impossible to be otherwise.

“Tsk,” said the mind reader. “Try to keep some secrets for me, okay?”

“But I’m extraordinarily trustworthy!” I said. “I never lie!”

“That’s a lie,” Satori said. “Also, most people don’t lie all that much, you know? At least, not from their perspective. They lie to themselves constantly, as humans seem to all know and all somehow forget when convenient.” Satori smiled and winked. “I’m here to help!”

“Yeah, well… I do at least take pains to find the truth and convey it accurately.”

“An ant on his back legs, saying he understands the sky,” she said. “No, I can’t read ant minds. They aren’t sentient.”

“But chickens are?” asked Sasha.

“Yes.” Satori frowned. “Factory farming sounds awful, I’d appreciate it if you never thought about it again.”

That should be easy, I thought. Most people never thought about factory farming in the first place, especially not since it had been made illegal. I considered the economics; factory farming had started going away before it was made illegal, because artificial meat was so much cheaper. My thoughts on the hypocrisy of human moral progress didn’t seem to bother Satori as much as animal suffering itself.

“Eating Emeff wouldn't be the same thing at all,” said Satori. Her third eye was looking at Sasha, so she hadn’t been listening to my thoughts in particular. This was another thing that often happened around the youkai: there would be one conversation, half-heard, and everyone else would be confused. “No, really. I can read the chickens’ minds. They are happy, only upset for a moment.”

It occurred to me that if the youkai weren’t opposed to eating humans, there was no way they’d be opposed to eating chickens, even if they were sentient.

“Bingo,” said Satori, pointing at me as her third eye turned in my direction. “Look at this ant, climbing a tree.”

“What?” asked Sasha.

“If youkai dislike factory farming, does that mean our conditions…” I said, not sure how to finish my question.

“Are your conditions a matter of making immigrants an acceptable foodstuff, according to youkai sensibilities?” suggested Satori. “Are we letting you do things that make you happy before we butcher you?”

“Exactly,” I said, because of course it was. She could read my mind.

“No comment.” Satori smiled. “Stop fretting. Yukari forbade me from revealing things about even false hypotheticals, which isn’t diabolical foresight. But giving me permission to say that she hadn’t given me permission to confirm or deny, is impressive.”

“Er…”

“So it might not be as bad as you’re thinking.”

“That’s only a little reassuring,” said Sasha. Satori shrugged.

“Thanks for your help today. Here are some eggs!”