Chapter Thirteen

We found a foot path that hadn’t been there before, leading straight toward the enormous cherry tree. I took the lead, with Reimu and Marisa walking side-by-side behind me. It was the same marching order we had naturally fallen into when setting out from Reimu’s shrine... two days ago? How long had it been? Dying had interrupted my sense of time.

“Can you two tell how long you’ve been here?” I asked over my shoulder as we walked.

Marisa made a thinking noise, Mmmph. “Hard to says. Felt like been sleeping a whiles, then woke ups.”

“I feel like time doesn’t work the same way here,” said Reimu. “I mean, look. It’s only just now getting dark.”

She was right – daylight was fading. There was no sun to set, but the sky’s bright pinks and blues deepened to the colors of dusk. I worried we might lose our way if it grew too much darker, since we couldn’t see the giant tree to keep our bearings. Strangely, that never happened. Our vision adjusted to lower light than our eyes could have managed back in the mortal world.

“We must be getting close,” I said. “Probably just over this hill.”

The path led up a slope, snaking back and forth in loose switchbacks that threaded between the trees. As we climbed, a new source of sound and light cracked out against the otherwise tranquil evening. Flashes of pink and blue shone from beyond the hill, reflecting on the treetops.

“Harukaere!” cried out a voice. “Haru no enerugi ni notte ie ni kaere!”

Then came a sizzling sound, followed by a BANG! It reminded me of dropping too much water into hot frying oil.

“That must be Yuyuko,” I said.

“Sounds like she’s busys,” said Marisa.

“Should we bother her right now?” said Reimu.

“Let’s at least look.”

We reached the peak to look on the scene below, and saw that we had arrived at the base of the big tree. Its tremendous roots were as tall as the hill we stood upon. Nestled in the crook between two of these roots was a house, beautiful in detail if modest in size. The house’s design mimicked classic Gensokyo architecture: Eastern-style eaves, sliding doors, a wrap-around wooden plank porch that became a full deck on the house’s side. The yard was developed like a miniature park, including decorative trees, a small stone fountain and some ornate lawn furniture.

Yuyuko was indeed busy. She was suspended ten feet in the air, holding one arm out toward the giant tree. Great beams of pink and blue arced around her, jumping between her and the ground, with more magic flowing between her and the tree’s trunk.

There was another flash of colored lights, and another sizzle-BANG! noise. Yuyuko yelped out a surprised Gah! as her spell buckled, kicked back against her, and then failed. The swimming beams popped like soap bubbles, dropping a brief but heavy shower of pink and blue sparks on the yard below. Darkness fell with the lights of her spell gone, but we had no trouble seeing.

“Blast,” said Yuyuko, shaking out her hands while still hovering.

No longer focused on the spell, she must have seen us out the corner of her eye. She turned to face us, rotating freely in air.

“Goodness!” she called over to us. “You three recovered quickly. Please, come visit with me.”

We headed down the hill. Yuyuko descended slowly until she stood beside a picnic table. Here she gestured for us to sit. As we approached, I pointed to the pair of swords resting on the tabletop.

“Is Youmu all right?”

“She’s unhappy but safe,” said Yuyuko. “She agreed I should keep her weapons for now.”

We three sat on one side of the table with Marisa between us. The bench seat was smooth and cold on my ghostly-bare bottom, but it had some give as if it were cushioned. Before seating herself, Yuyuko waved a hand back toward the house.

“None of you need food right now, but a talk like this is best shared over broken bread.”

In response to her unspoken command, the house’s front door slid open. A cloud of pink and blue butterflies flew out, carrying a steaming tray stacked with a tea set and some kind of buns. They brought the tray to our table and set it down. Up this close, I could see the butterflies were magical constructs. Each of them was made from glowing finely-spun wire, moving with smooth coordination as their little legs released the tray to rest on the tabletop.

Their task done, the butterflies took wing and flew back toward the house in a bumbling formation.

“Normally Youmu would serve us,” said Yuyuko, sitting down across from us, “but she needs rest. Please, help yourselves.”

Marisa was the brave one. She grabbed one of the buns off the table and took a hearty bite.

“Mmm, this is weirds! Tastes like cross between manju and mochis. It’s good thoughs.”

Seeing that the food was probably safe, I poured cups for all of us. Yuyuko took the cup I held out to her.

“Thank you, dear. Now – I’m sure you three have a wagonload of questions, but I must catch you up to speed as quickly as possible.”

“There’s only one thing I want to know,” said Reimu. “Can you tell us where Gensokyo’s spring went?”

“Right there.” Yuyuko pointed up behind herself, toward the blooming tree towering over us. “A whole country’s worth of seasonal energy is bound within the flagship of my gardens, the Saigyou Ayakashi. That’s why she’s blooming now.”

We all looked up, trying to take in the colossal network of branches that all ended in blossoms. Those petals danced in a passing breeze, still bright and visible despite the darkened sky behind.

“How could this happen?” I said. “And why?”

Yuyuko took in a breath, let it out slowly, considering the best place to start. She took a sip from her tea.

“A few months ago,” she began, “just as winter was beginning, a friend from Gensokyo brought her family to visit us here. I thought it was a mere social call, but my friend had an ulterior motive. She sought Youmu’s help with an... intervention? That might be the right word—”

“Sorry, hang on,” said Reimu. “I don’t want to get lost. Who’s this friend you’re talking about?”

“You don’t know her,” said Yuyuko. “You have met one of her family under unfortunate circumstances.”

My insides shuddered. “Are you talking about Chen? That cat girl youkai?”

“Yes, dear.” Yuyuko took another sip. “She is a nekomata and is bound to her mistress via the Shikigami Rite. Sakuya heard her mistress’s name, Ran – and Ran herself is shikigami to another even mightier youkai, their matriarch Yukari. She’s the friend I mentioned. Together, they are the Yakumo family.”

“I’ve never heard of any of these people,” said Reimu.

“By and large, they keep to themselves,” said Yuyuko. “Make no mistake, though. Yukari is mightier than anything you’ve encountered before today. She is the youkai of the Boundary. She was born the instant it came into existence, and it has shared her life ever since. She is Gensokyo’s defining resident, and its de facto ruler.”

“And this Yukari,” I said. “She wanted Youmu’s help to do what, exactly?”

“With many sly words, she convinced Youmu that I needed to be saved from myself. At that time, the Ayakashi was not blooming as you now see her. Branches were barren and had been for many long years. Yukari claimed it was a symbol of my inability to leave the hurts of the past behind, and she needed Youmu’s help to destroy the Ayakashi for my sake.”

Yuyuko looked back, glancing up and down the tree.

“Half-truths convince better than full falsehoods,” she said.

Marisa raised a hand, like a schoolgirl trying to get the teacher’s attention.

“So, if this Yukari lady’s so big-and-strongs, why not just burn trees down herselfs?”

Yuyuko looked back to us. “Because, my dear witch, I’m the ruler of this world. Her power is uncontested only in Gensokyo. Moreover, mortal magic and netherworld magic aren’t the same kind of thing. That’s why she needed Youmu’s help. Yukari reasoned that if she could harvest enough power from Gensoyko and infuse it into the Ayakashi, it would eventually reach a critical mass and allow her to rend the tree from within – but she needed a way to convert that magical mass from worldly to netherworldly. Youmu’s family are half-ghosts, meaning their spirits are adjacent to their bodies, instead of being contained within. This allowed Youmu to act as a conduit, changing Gensokyo’s spring energy into its ghostly equivalent a little at a time.”

“So Youmu went around Gensokyo gathering up its spring?” I said. “That’s how I first met her.”

Yuyuko had taken a bite from a bun. “Toward the end of that task, yes. Yukari gave Youmu some magical tools: the living carved bird for gathering spring, and an enchantment on Youmu’s wakizashi that allowed her to travel quickly by opening gaps in space. Yukari also created the gateway between Gensokyo and here, and left the Prismriver sisters to guard it. Collecting spring took months of labor, which was especially difficult when hiding it from me at first. Youmu is nothing if not diligent.”

She had also used that sword-gap power to defeat me in combat, but I decided not to bring that up.

“Spring energies would be natural choices,” said Marisa. “It’s a heck of a lots of magical powers, and spring matches a big cherry trees.”

“Very true.” said Yuyuko. “Every drop of spring within the Ayakashi is a bit that Gensokyo lacks. Youmu noticed this as her labors wore on. When winter lingered past the time it should have thawed, Youmu approached Yukari and demanded an explanation. Yukari said she hadn’t expected winter to be prolonged. She insisted the only solution was to continue as planned. There was yet too little spring in Hakugyokuro to activate. If only Youmu could gather a little more and reach that tipping point, then Yukari could break the Ayakashi and return the season to Gensokyo.”

“That was a lie,” I said, drinking my tea. It tasted of candied cherries.

Yuyuko nodded. “Before getting back to work, Youmu put an ultimatum to Yukari, demanding to know exactly how much more spring was necessary. Yukari gave her an estimate, which was probably arbitrary, and sent Youmu on her way. Youmu fulfilled that estimate just when Sakuya came to the netherworld. As you can see, the Ayakashi still stands. Yukari has done nothing to harm it. What’s worse, Yukari sealed off the portal that allowed Youmu travel between the two realms. I’ve been trying to send the spring back myself, but Yukari is resisting me from the other side.”

Yuyuko again glanced up to the Ayakashi.

“Gensokyo’s warmth is trapped here,” she said. “Your homeland is frozen and soon to perish, leaving us with no consolation but a perfect cherry blossom.”

---

Uneasy quiet fell on us. We three recently-deceased humans sat and pondered, sipping tea and nibbling snack buns.

Reimu broke the silence.

“But why do any of this?” she said. “If this Yukari is really the ruler of Gensokyo, why would she risk destroying it?”

“I don’t know,” said Yuyuko. “I’ve tried calling across to the mortal world, but she won’t reply. She’s never behaved like this before, not in all the centuries I’ve known her.”

“So there’s nothing we can do?” I said. “Is Gensokyo just doomed?”

“There is one possibility,” said Yuyuko, “though I was hoping to avoid it, as it requires some sacrifice. Perhaps we can push through and complete Yukari’s plan, meaning that we break the Ayakashi.”

“Then why haven’t you done that already?” said Reimu.

“Two reasons,” said Yuyuko. “For the spring energy to help Gensokyo, it must be converted back into its mortal form. Youmu accomplished the opposite change one teaspoon at a time, over several months. Gensokyo can’t wait that long. The spring must be sent back now, all at once. If Youmu tried that, it would vaporize her.”

“What’s the other reason?” I said.

Yuyuko stood from the table. She faced the tree, hands folded behind her back.

“I don’t want to lose the Ayakashi either.”

I stood, walked over beside her.

“So the tree does mean something to you.”

Yuyuko nodded, but didn’t look at me. “I recall almost nothing of my mortal life, you know. I’ve been Hakugyokuro’s ruler for so long. I don’t remember what it’s like to wear a body, or to have a family related to me by blood, or to live in a village. Even so, one thing remains. There was a tree, a simple and lovely cherry tree, that I visited as a place of refuge. I took the love of it with me when I died, and here the Ayakashi was made. She brings me contentment... or did, until she stopped blooming.”

“Do you know why it stopped?” I said.

“I think so. It’s my heart’s way of telling me that I don’t need the cherry tree. If there are people who love me, and I can love myself, that’s enough.” Yuyuko showed a sad smile. “Yukari lied by telling the truth.”

Reimu stood and came over by us. Marisa hopped off her seat and followed. The four of us stood together in a loose circle facing each other.

“Is that why you didn’t intervene?” said Reimu. “If you’re as powerful as this Yukari person, you could have done something before Gensokyo got this bad.”

“If you feel any anger toward me, I deserve every bit of it,” said Yuyuko. “I was tricked, too. Some of what I’ve told you tonight, I learned only within the last day. Originally I thought Yukari and Youmu were giving me a gift: causing the Ayakashi to bloom. When I learned Gensokyo’s winter was lasting too long, I accepted Yukari’s explanation that even more power was needed before it could be sent back. No one told me of their intention to break the Ayakashi then.”

“So you could do that,” I said, “but that doesn’t solve the problem, because it’s ghost energy and Gensokyo can’t use it.”

“That’s where our final option comes in,” said Yuyuko. “Marisa knows cognation, a simple spell that mortal mages commonly use to find people or things. We know that would work here, because it worked once before – when Marisa cast it on the cherry petal that Sakuya touched, sending her to greet me. That same spell needs to happen at a much larger scale. If cognation were successfully cast using all the spring in the Ayakashi, it would flood home, forcing Yukari to act as the conduit instead of making Youmu do it. Yukari is the principal youkai of Gensokyo, so she can do the conversion in that direction only. She’ll have no choice.”

Marisa leaned back. “That’s off-the-wall crazies. Couldn’t controls anywhere near that much powers.”

“You could, if you had the correct foci,” said Yuyuko. “Though it would have to be bigger and more complex than any magical tool you’ve ever used. We have just such a thing: a very intricate piece of mortal matter that, if evoked upon properly, could guide the spring back to Gensokyo. ”

We looked at Yuyuko, confused. She gave us a moment to understand.

My mouth hung open.

“Are you talking about my body?”

---

Yuyuko’s eyes met mine. Those bright pink irises portrayed a sharp mind on the surface, while flecks of blue hinted at the deep knowledge within.

“By a strange twist of fate, Sakuya, you were already in the netherworld when you died. Your remains are still here. That may be our last hope.”

Reimu and Marisa both looked at me, the wonder and horror plain on their faces. I took a step back.

“I... I don’t know.”

“We won’t do it if you refuse,” said Yuyuko, “but we’re not spoiled for options. You don’t have to see your body. Marisa doesn’t even need to write symbols upon it; cognation is a simple spell and she can work it from memory. Just know that your old body will be destroyed in the process. If we’re lucky, you won’t need it anymore.”

“Meaning what?” I said. “I’m going to the Sanzu anyway, even if it’s after we restore Gensokyo.”

“You will pass the Sanzu eventually, but I have an idea on how to delay it. I’ll help Marisa in casting this spell. My role will be to crack open the Ayakashi at the right moment, and I’ll add in a few terms of my own. If all goes well, the three of you will be swept along with the spring flowing back.”

“What for?” said Reimu. “The only thing worse than dying would be going home as a ghost.”

“It would, so I’m not intending to do that. The spring elemental, Lily White, told Sakuya that spring is the season that most closely matches humanity in nature.” Yuyuko waved up to the Ayakashi. “We have quite a lot here, so much that we can spare a little for you three. It’s my hope that, on the way back, your spirits will assume the correct amount of spring to reform your physical selves. You’ll also need trace amounts of the other seasons’ energies, but that should happen along the way.”

“Wait,” said Reimu. “You’re saying we can get new bodies?”

“No ways!” said Marisa. “That’d make us like, half-humans-half-youkais.”

“Not quite youkai,” said Yuyuko. “You didn’t naturally emerge from the magic of a sealed land, and you’ll still have human spirits within your new magically-constructed forms.”

“I’m not sure I believe this,” I said. “I was ready to move on, and leave my home to die in ice behind me. Now I’m hearing we can save Gensokyo and be resurrected at the same time? That’s too good to be true.”

Yuyuko smiled, folding her hands together in her kimono sleeves.

“Oh, Sakuya, your choice of words. Your skepticism is well-placed – and yes, there are risks and consequences. I’m not even sure if this will work. No one has ever tried anything like this before.”

She paused wearing a thoughtful look, as if searching far back in her memory.

“There might have been one case,” she continued, “though that was an unconfirmed legend, and even if it did happen, it made quite a few people upset. We will definitely be breaking the rules if we do this. Eiki the Yama will hear about it. She won’t be pleased, but I’ll happily defend my decision.”

“Is that one of the Higan judges?” said Reimu. “What if she decides to come after us directly? I don’t want to spend the rest of my life worrying about some celestial being showing up to smite me.”

“She won’t,” said Yuyuko. “The responsibility will be mine, in her eyes. She’ll see you three as victims, having your death process interrupted, but she would never dare intrude on the mortal world. You’ll be allowed to live your lives.”

“And how long’s thats?” said Marisa. “Having kinda-youkai bodies, get to lives for centuries?”

“We can’t know,” said Yuyuko. “You might live, age and die exactly as normal humans do. You might live for three hundred years, and succumb to madness when your lifespan exceeds the durability of a human mind. You might not age for decades, then suddenly become old ladies in an instant. There’s no certainty here.”

Reimu, Marisa and I traded looks, each trying to read how the other two felt about this prospect.

“One last thing to consider,” Yuyuko pressed on. “Even if we break this rule by sending you back, there’s another rule that still matters: no one can do any stage of the death process more than once. You’ve now been to Hakugyokuro. When you die again, however far in the future that may be, you won’t return here. Instead you’ll immediately pass the Sanzu and face judgment, with no chance to rest or reflect, no matter how traumatic your death was. Having accepted a resurrection might be used as a point against you, at that time.”

Again we were quiet, trading looks.

“Do you need some time to decide?” Yuyuko asked us.

“I don’t,” said Reimu. “Gensokyo can’t wait any longer, and I wasn’t ready to die yet.”

Marisa grinned and gave her friend a playful shove.

“That’s the spirits. We’re the spirits! Let’s do this.”

“Count me in,” I said. “I need to live so well that it outweighs everything I’ve done up to now.”

Yuyuko’s smile broadened. She held both hands out to us. Reimu and Marisa took one. I took the other. She was warm to the touch, the same feeling as when we had touched the spring petals.

“I’m proud to have met such brave young women,” she said. “Let’s get you home.”