Epilogue

Think about our most powerful dreams. We wake up from them suddenly, our bodies covered in sweat, our faces covered in tears. These dreams are so beautiful and terrible that it makes our mortal existence seem pathetic. Our day-to-day lives mean nothing; our jobs, our houses, our hobbies, all of it fails in comparison.

Except, I’ve learned, there’s one thing that isn’t tarnished by even the strongest of our dreams. This one thing makes you feel safe to tell your closest friend about the impact that the dream left on you. It allows your friend to sympathize and say something to make you feel better. This one immutable thing is what encourages you to keep trying, no matter how trivial and useless waking life now seems.

I don’t know where it comes from, or its deepest meaning, and I probably never will, but I don’t care.

That love is enough.

---

I awoke from one such dream. I dreamed that Marisa and I went on an adventure together. We overcame enemies, suffered hurts, did good for Gensokyo, learned much within ourselves. When you wake up, you realize how ridiculous dreams are. Here I was, snuggled up in my bed, looking out the window, up to the blue summer sky above my shrine.

Except... the window was too big, taking up more space in the wall. In fact, the bed was huge. I didn’t remember the smell of the lake being this strong.

I would have sat bolt upright, but my body was too stiff. I could only inhale sharply, and that hurt enough itself.

Patchouli Knowledge sat in an armchair on the other side of the room. She had been reading a book, but now snapped it shut and looked at me. Two fairy maids sat on top of the chair’s backrest, rocking their wings to keep balance.

“You are awake,” said Patchouli. “Fairies, find the mistress and let her know. Bring back a plate of food.”

The two youkai bowed. Their wings buzzed into blurs, letting them take flight and dart out the bedroom’s open door. Patchouli stood, tucked her book under one arm, stepped up to the bedside. She put the backs of three fingers on my forehead, as if feeling for fever.

“How do you feel?” she said.

“Uggghh.” I let out a groggy groan. I cleared my throat. My side stung. “What happened? Is Marisa okay?”

Patchouli hmphed. “Worry about yourself first. Flandre broke two of your ribs, and you suffered internal hemorrhaging. I spent long hours repairing your blood vessels to prevent you from drowning in yourself. It was a saving grace that you ate roast beef beforehand, so I had protein to work with. I set the broken bones, but I did not heal them completely. I feared running your body short on nutrients, and bone will heal most cleanly if it heals naturally. Even so, we need to feed you right away.”

I didn’t understand half of what she was saying.

“Answer me,” I said.

Patchouli took in a breath, sighed it out. “Marisa survived, and will recover fully. She is resting in the neighboring bedroom. She has numerous contusions and three stab wounds of varying severity. The two in her back were particularly frightening. Approximately an inch lower, and she would have lost both kidneys. An inch to the side, and her spinal cord would be cut, paralyzing her from the waist down. As it happened, she suffered only muscle damage and perforated intestines. Those were easier to mend than your injuries.”

“I want to see her,” I said.

Patchouli shook her head. “Not yet. She is asleep now, and you are not fit to move. The two of you will need to rest for another day at least.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “I need to see her. I need—”

“Won’t you eat something first?” said Sakuya. She came into the room, carrying a bed tray. She set it down over me, as if to pin me there. Seeing the food and drink, I realized how hungry and thirsty I was.

I tried to sit up and rest back against the headboard, but I couldn’t move. My ribs hurt too much. I lay there, panting with the effort.

“Can’t even feed yourself,” said Sakuya. “All right. Hold still and I’ll spoon some of this meat pudding up for you.”

I didn’t want those killer’s hands feeding me, the same that had butchered apart who knew how many people to feed a vampire. That reminded me.

“Flandre?” I said, holding Sakuya off. “What happened to her?”

The witch and the maid exchanged looks.

“That is... distressing,” said Patchouli. “The mistress will tell you.”

“Is Flandre dead?” I said.

“No,” said Sakuya. “Not dead, just… look, let me feed you. No violence, I promise.”

What was that promise worth? My stomach rumbled at the smell of food, and I couldn’t get it myself. I let Sakuya feed me, but I wouldn’t trust this woman beyond this moment. I let her tend me only because I had no choice.

Remilia came in after a while. She looked tired and worn, her wounded wing wrapped with a bandage. She said nothing, only sat in the armchair and watched me eat. Patchouli nodded to her.

“I will check on Marisa, with your leave,” she said.

Remilia waved her off, and Patchouli left the room. Sakuya soon finished feeding me, helped me wash it down with some tea. She took the tray and turned to leave, but stopped by Remilia.

“Would you like me to stay, Mistress?” she said.

“No,” said Remilia.

The maid bowed as well as she could, holding a tray full of dishes. She left us alone, closing the door behind her. I watched Remilia for a while. She sat, looking at the floor, her shoulders hung and her wings drooping. I had never seen such a sad vampire.

“I heard Flandre survived,” I said.

“She did,” said Remilia. “We hoped it would change her without killing her, and it did. Her heart is beating, and she lost her taste for blood, or for anything from a human body. Sakuya can’t be in the same room with her; she gets sick just from her smell. The fairies have to care for her.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? I mean, not good, but better. Right?”

“Much better, and that’s not all. Flandre is recovering in a bedroom like this one. We have the curtains drawn, but still. She’s not breaking out into rashes. No bleeding boils on her skin. Sunlight isn’t hurting her. ”

“This is all good news, Remilia. Why do you look depressed?”

She looked up at me. “You’re right, it’s wonderful news. I was there when Flandre had recovered enough to awaken. She opened her eyes. She looked at me. She asked my name.”

I took a second to understand.

“She what?” I said.

Tears welled in Remilia’s eyes, ran down her cheeks. Her face bunched up in pain.

“She didn’t know me,” she said. “She still doesn’t. She doesn’t know Sakuya, Patchouli or Meiling. She doesn’t know this house, or that she’s been underground for centuries. She didn’t even know her own name. I had to tell her.”

Remilia put her face in her hands, and she wept.

---

Marisa and I stayed at the Scarlet Mansion for two more days, resting and recovering. As soon as she could move, Marisa came into my room and jumped in bed with me. She hugged me so tight she nearly broke my ribs again. I hugged her back, and we both laughed and cried. I felt bad for Remilia and Flandre, but it couldn’t keep me from being happy with my best friend. After prying us apart, Patchouli and Sakuya took turns watching us.

When Patchouli was in my room, she read to me from her books. She started with a medical analysis of memory loss. I learned that amnesia could be caused by physical or mental trauma, but it’s not always easy to differentiate between the two, because they frequently happen together. I learned that patients who suffered amnesia sometimes recovered in weeks, sometimes years, sometimes never.

Maybe it was better like this, I thought. Forgetting the past would let Flandre start a new life, maybe a better one.

After that book, Patchouli went on to harder subjects. She read me lectures on sociology, economics, history and magical sciences. I understood none of it. I kept falling asleep before she got to the third page.

When Sakuya watched me, she told me of Flandre’s recovery. She showed no signs of regaining her memory, but she was doing well otherwise. Sakuya could now be near her without making her sick. Remilia had gotten children’s books from the library and was teaching Flandre how to read. She was up and about the mansion, exploring its hallways and chambers. She played games of hide-and-seek with the fairy maids, until Sakuya yelled at them to get back to work.

Sakuya talked about Flandre like a parent talks about her child, with equal parts happiness and exasperation. I soaked up every word.

---

It was time to leave. Marisa and I hadn’t overstayed our welcome, but we wanted to go home. Marisa had healed enough to move on her own. I could stand up and walk for short distances, farther if someone helped me.

Remilia knew we were anxious to be on our way. She led us down to the main courtyard, where Meiling stood beside a rickshaw cart. It wasn’t the same cart Marisa and I had seen on our way in, I was happy to notice. Our packs were already stuffed in the back.

“This is nice,” I said to Remilia, “but how does this help us? Marisa can’t pull me all the way back to my shrine.”

“I know,” said Remilia. “Meiling will be the muscle for the journey.”

“That’s right!” said Meiling, putting a hand on her bicep. “I will see you two home safely. The mistress has ordered me to dispel any thought or emotion associated with hurting you, Reimu. In the face of such a strict command, I can get revenge only if you attack me first.”

“You’re out of luck,” I said. “I’m in no shape to assault a youkai like yourself, or anyone else.”

“We’ll see about that,” she said. “I may be the strongest youkai alive, but I have very sensitive feelings. You could call me ugly I’d break down crying.”

I laughed, and it hurt, but I still enjoyed it. “Thanks. Now I know your weakness. Help me into the cart, Marisa. China-girl is going to take us home.”

“Hong Meiling, is my name.”

---

Marisa and I got into the cart, leaned back and relaxed. The cart’s seat had deep cushions that would make travel comfortable. Meiling pulled us out of the courtyard, going slowly over the cobblestones, picking up speed on the open trail. We rode across the land bridge and turned onto the mainland, heading down the path that would take us around the lake.

A glint of light caught the corner of my vision. I looked back to the mansion, saw something sparkling on one of the balconies. There stood the Scarlet sisters, hand in hand, waving goodbye. Flandre didn’t know who I was or why she was waving to me, but she enjoyed herself.

Sunlight twinkled from Flandre’s wings, the crystals bobbing up and down as she waved.