It’s not gentle. My body rolls out of the Gap and I feel it way more than I should; wounds already plentiful now overflow. The rolling eventually settles, and under my trembling fingers I feel smooth terrain and plants; the crumbling of a world and its apathetic hunger happens loud… but, rather, in the distance.

I could cry.

Satono, Mai… I…

Sticky webbing clings to my robes—so very thin, yet powerful enough to pull my body weight in a most desperate maneuver—, and I follow its roots with blurry eyes to this blonde woman with long spider-like limbs. She cradles the unconscious bakeneko in her arms; her gaze worried as she barks to the people that surround her, so many sharing her characteristics: young and teens alike. The world around them pulsates a deep red, but the air is delightfully fresh, a breeze swaying my hair.

Many more people surround us, and they all watch, scared.

… So embarrassing, a goddess in the mud…

I glimpse at the Hakurei daughter and her parents through the corner of my eyes, but such eyes are forcefully moved when two firm hands catch my arms. “You! Where have you been?! What’s happening in the Underground? Is G-Goro safe?” Byakuren Hijiri isn’t cordial nor attentive, and her hold makes me hiss. That seems to nail a pinch of sense into her mind: her hands ease their hold before her eyes shoot towards where the Hakurei girl and her family are, and she speaks something to this… blur of purple and red that rushes past us like her life depends on it. Ah, it seems Hana’s gained the concern of Kanako Yasaka. Poor girl.

“A-Are they all safe?” I ask, but the boiling tar eating away at the core of my faith does not relent. Suika had ameliorated my condition, but she could only remove the spring. The damage, however… I blink away the knot in my heart and watch Hijiri’s eyes, her arms supporting me and taking me away from the crowd of huddled and scared people. Moriya mikos arranged in blue and white hurried past us with these shell-shocked eyes. I pay them no mind.

The heart yearns for the answer: had winter come…?

With a furrowed brow and a deep worry that she swallows for the moment, Byakuren expresses, “They're all fine; steady your heart.” Those knowing yellow eyes studied my legs and hands before she resumed. “Hana and Reimu are awake—they’re… with A-Anon…” A click of the tongue. It must sting, considering the life she carries. She recomposes herself quickly, guiding us towards the entrance of the shrine. “That Youkai seemed fine enough; Kurodani-san doesn’t seem to want to let go of her… I sense a bad omen about whatever she’s became—her samsara is stuck shut, much like Yukari’s.” She eyes me with a silent yet awful question, fists clutching a tad firmer. Youkai Mountain slowly tore itself apart, the ground below quaking violently; dread embraced human and Youkai.

“Don’t harm the girl; she’s suffered enough as is.”

“… She’s a user of the Gap, Okina.”

Hatred. Unbecoming of someone like her, yet with pungent roots. What Yukari has done to her and those around Hijiri—that worry lingers in her gaze like a massive shadow—would warrant punishment even from the most zealous of shepherds. I stare into those hateful eyes with all the might I can muster, and the words come out, not a plea, rather a command. “… That girl is not to be harmed. Kindness won’t be rewarded in gallows.” Much has happened to the bakeneko that I don’t understand, though theories loiter. What I understand is that pure forgiveness she so casually bestowed upon me, someone who doesn’t deserve it.

A goddess rewards her faithful.

Hijiri scowls but doesn’t push it, features softening despite the simmering anger. She opens her mouth to ask, and it’s hard not to giggle. “Goro and his family are fine. I dumped them with the others of the Myouren…” I glance towards the distance and frown at the sight of a pulsating pale blue tree silhouetting a world of pure red. Suwako kneels on the patio facing the growing gorge, focused beyond understanding. Kaleidoscopic mist blankets most of the forests, stretching wide—Yukari lost her Gap, how is that tree still there? Is it not part of Yukari’s plans? Then what the hell is that thing…? “Have you had any signs of Suika and Sanae-chan?” The words leave me as she brings me towards the kneeling Goddess of Earth.

“Nothing of them yet,” Suwako answered, sweat pouring down her features, eyes opened wide with the pupils dilated into rectangles. “That mist cloaks them. Its composition is absolutely chaotic—even in its destructions, Yukari’s constructs are masterpieces.”

“We need info, Okina. Is Yukari alive? Her state? What about Kasen and—”

Words shatter, and so does glass. Youkai Mountain, once more molested, writhes as something dies and ethereal glass rains from above. The sound of whatever died echoed louder than earthquakes. Following true, a missile crossed the red skies towards the tree and the soft diamond dust's strand of magic was soon recognized: Shikaisen.

A broken Senkai.