Cursing under my breath, I wasted an entire second to defend this snake-like creature, my legs spreading and anchoring feet to the tongue of rancor flesh, a crashing wave of shock-pink Danmaku bursting forward to meet Yukari’s Bloody Sakura Danmaku. The serpent kept its mouth wide open, throat pungent with the source of the brutal radiation. It knew, however, friend from foe, almost backing me for a better view of the incoming tidal wave.

Had it a grudge against Yukari and her artifacts…?

It didn’t matter. Not here, not at the end of the world. The moment these eyes understood the barrage was cleared, and the creature seemed safe enough, I rematerialized above the lake at maximum capacity of Manipulation of Explainable phenomena, a blistering explosion of displaced air shaking the water below as pink irises darted around. Yukari had used those two seconds to their fullest, the cursed sword blurring into red flashes, which brought Yuugi to her absolute limit in just a matter of instants, her wounds plentiful and teeth tightly compressed, the Gap Sage unrelenting in her aggression. I didn’t think for a moment, lunging head-on towards them, horns aiming for the sword in her hands—

—Yet, the time loss had been cruel. Just half a second from the moment my eyes locked on them, the screeching blade penetrated Yuugi’s throat. Yukari dodged out of the way of my horns immediately and pulled the sword with her, and a spray of crimson blood followed true. Teeth clenched, eyes went wide, and a lump balled in my throat, red droplets drenching my scarred face.

A word attempted to leave me, a whispered name…

… One powerful hand flew towards the red blade as it drew away, catching it in a death grip.

Yuugi smirks cruelly.

The blonde oni pulled with sheer strength and seized Yukari with her guard low and, for just one tantalizing moment, the sword had left her grip. I acted, heart pounding a thousand times and guided by rage instead of logic—should’ve aimed for the sword; the thought she was vulnerable, however, fanned flames nurtured by the memories of a lifetime of abuse towards me, Anon, and Hana. “HA!” A guttural cry echoed, and a foot shot high, albeit erratically, meeting Yukari’s chin square on. Loud compression of bone and then tearing of muscle reverberated before her fingers shakily wrapped around the grip again—just a little more time to wind up the kick, and her head would’ve exploded…—and the grinding of bone got cut short, the force blocked from reaching the brain. She vanished in a blur of purple electricity, tumbling and coughing a few dozen meters away, yet just as dangerous as ever.

We have to gather our bearings.

“Y-You…!” Yukari gurgled through a half-broken jaw, vengeance red as blood. My worried gaze wanders to Yuugi, glowering at the stream of blood running down her neck, another wound of many.

She was still standing and smiling. “That little weapon changed, didn’t it, Kasen?” She says, tone throaty and wet. Yukari's gaze narrows—she’s lost her advantage—and a nod is everything that’s needed. “That means the power behind the toy is unexplainable…” Cracking of knuckles reverberates loudly.

It is nothing compared to the hum of a Gohei as, to my side, the world splits. Through it steps not a frightened child or the apprentice shrine maiden full of wrath I met last year…

A ready miko.

On her very back, she carries her unconscious mother, her eyes iron. “… I apologize for my delay, Kasen-nee. I wanted to make sure Father was safe…” She says with the tone of a person battling to keep it together, eyes reddened. She had cried.

“Hana-chan…” I cannot amass the correct words. Not now; this heart of mine is a mess.

“The more, the merrier, Hakurei girl~!” Yuugi proclaims, her smile a vicious thing. “When we’re done with this stubborn piece of shit, get ready! I'll get you the drunkest you've ever been.”

“… Bring whomever you want to face me. Nothing changes the outcome—it has been foreseen,” she clutches at her belly with one hand, the other at the cursed grip with the closest thing possible to a prayer for someone like Yukari, and those purple eyes linger on the four-leaf clover above my shoulder. Oni blood sings with the lure of an enemy assailed by fear. “Slave, beasts… I shan’t let your filthy claws take away what I love. Not again.” Danmaku is the color of blooming Sakuras and unwashed blood.

I recollect when we met above these waters, and she told me about Renko.

Grueling fuel for this crusade, her story is.

It doesn’t matter.

The tides are turning; her hands had faltered, even if briefly. That single moment confirmed Yukari somehow has lost her Gap entirely and, upon losing connection to Onikirimaru, will lose the perks of its echoes. Douji had never thought a man capable of besting her; Yukari never once considered her slave would exsanguinate her.

Until Yukari is dead and Gensokyo is free, the sun won’t disappear on the horizon.

Not when words are yet to be remembered.

War resumes.