Project Alice ~ Tangled Threads

Bright sunlight illuminated the blooming Gensokyo, striving to penetrate every possible nook and cranny, eager to bestow its summer heat even upon the Scarlet Devil. Clouds drifted lazily, escorting flocks of birds, seemingly observing the inhabitants living beneath their multi-ton, yet weightless forms in this little magical world. One such fascinating resident was undoubtedly the Hakurei shrine maiden, Reimu, who was currently sweeping the path to her shrine without a care in the world. Her appearance during this period of cooler weather remained unchanged: white and red robes, a light pink bow tying two pigtails, and ribbons twisting her black hair at her temples. For her, this day was like any other, and that pleased her immensely, though it was hard to tell from her tired expression. A day without an Incident was worth its weight in gold, she believed, and besides – it was a chance to do something for herself, like productive idleness. This peaceful mood was, annoyingly, disrupted by her closest friend – or rather, someone who had imposed herself into her circle long ago but remained there quite successfully to this day – Marisa. True to her usual manner, the witch suddenly appeared beside her and dramatically "perched" on her shoulder, beginning to chatter some story right into her ear, just like now. "...And people are getting worried in the village, by the way!" the blonde witch interjected mid-story, raising her index finger, causing the sleeve of her black-and-white, utterly canonical witch's dress to slip down her wrist. "Heard something like that from Aya," the shrine maiden nodded vaguely to the side, making a few sweeping motions with her broom. "Didn't read the paper, though." "You should have, Reimu, it's your job!" Marisa waggled the same finger. "People are getting lost in the Forest more often; there's definitely a youkai involved here!" Reimu froze at the word "job" and turned her head towards her friend with an almost audible creak, her entire demeanor condemning the forbidden word within the shrine grounds. Marisa, who had been sitting on the porch step swinging her legs, flinched. "You've got a bigger broom," Reimu pointed at the witch's flying apparatus. "Maybe lend a hand a bit?" "Huh? You..." Marisa hissed. "That's my baby, and I'm not getting it dirty!" Hugging the broom protectively, shielding it from the shrine maiden, she flared up. "And you're not listening to me at all, even though you're supposed to resolve Incidents like this! Fine, I'll fly off and find out everything myself, since you're so busy!" She didn't have to wait long. With a daring leap, the witch mounted her broom and shot into the air, sticking her tongue out over her shoulder at her receding friend, who sighed heavily in response: "They always find their way back eventually... Oh, Marisa..." Shaking her head, and also relieved to straighten her shoulders with the understanding that someone else would likely handle things, Reimu slowly trudged into the shrine, hoping to nap before some other disaster struck.

***

The Forest of Magic lived up to its name. It stretched for kilometers, blanketing fields and hills and even sprouting in the most infertile swamps, creating favorable conditions for countless magical plants. The tops of its trees sometimes soared so high they created their own landscape, a second layer above the ground, where sunlight barely penetrated, let alone moonlight. This Forest held many dangers for humans, and even youkai preferred not to linger here for long. However, some creatures capable of enduring the spores of magical fungi found refuge here, far from the city bustle. One of the Forest's permanent residents was Alice. Alice Margatroid, a blonde girl of modest character and appearance, was a magical being immune to the harmful effects of the spores, which was why she had settled here – in a small house nestled cozily on an open clearing, sometimes attracting the attention of passing travelers with its neatness and the hostess's hospitality. Right now, Alice was sewing, as usual. Perhaps this was one of the few lifelong activities that brought her inner peace, currently shaken by waves of anxiety and distress. She was thinking precisely about how lost guests used to visit her often; she would receive them, serve tea, listen to their stories, and point them on their way. "But that's in the past..." the blonde girl whispered quietly, resting her head against the windowpane. Her blue eyes closed wistfully, and her lips twisted in hurt. Indeed, lost souls hadn't visited her for quite some time, let alone those who might want to visit her intentionally. There simply weren't any, and the reason wasn't so much the dangerous remoteness of her house from civilization, but rather the fear of the sometimes eerie doll enthusiast. Suddenly, Alice felt someone tugging at her sleeve. Turning around, she saw one of the dolls resembling her: just as delicate, blonde, in a little blue dress, and, truth be told, just as lonely. Looking at her mistress with concern, the doll awkwardly patted her hand, finally getting her attention, and sat down beside her. "You're the only ones always near me," Alice smiled. "But can this be called friendship?" Hoping to hear an answer, she leaned closer to her creation. A thin thread flashed in the air, connecting the limbs of the now-limp doll. Obviously, there was no friendship and couldn't be – only a maddening conversation with herself disguised as a doll. Alice didn't want to, but she understood this, receiving a stab to the heart each time. At one point in her life, the girl had even stopped sewing new toys, tearing them apart, only to sew them back together again, apologizing to these innocent creations, and tearing them apart once more in a futile hope of freeing herself. But this time, the doll that hadn't answered remained intact; the stuffing didn't scatter, and the head stayed in place. "Right," Alice agreed with the silence, gazing at the doll she held in her hands. "You won't answer, none of you can, but..." Her thoughtful gaze swept over the shelves crammed with all kinds of toys, her eyes narrowing more and more until a sudden idea fully formed: "Perhaps... someone else will answer?"

***

The sky was clear, with barely visible stars like freckles, and across it, a witch flew in drunken loops. The cool evening breeze resisted her unregistered flight, trying to snatch the hat from her head, but it never quite succeeded – she held onto the headgear and scanned the ground intently for anything suspicious, until she spotted a light amidst the path. Descending on her broom, Marisa cautiously peered out from behind the tree canopy and discovered a couple of baskets with a lamp fallen sideways beside them. It looked strange, as if two people had just been there and now – they were gone. Deciding to investigate, the witch flew closer and dismounted. She extended the tip of her broom to hook the lamp's handle and lifted it. Footprints were visible on the ground: definitely two people, one somewhat heavier than the other. Marisa herself was surprised by her own observational skills as she examined the scene. "They stopped right here, but no footprints beyond... Beyond?" Marisa pondered, looking around. She only had a moment to see shadowy bindings scatter outward, engulfing all visible space. Only the lamp hanging on her broom stubbornly continued to emit its struggling light. A rustle sounded ahead, and Marisa tensed sharply, sensing someone's gaze. Shivers ran down her spine, and she slowly drew her trusty Mini-Hakkero from her bosom, scanning the area. The forest remained as it was, except much darker now – the lantern light significantly darkened its surroundings. "Who's there?!" Her voice was much louder than she intended. The echo spread through the forest, and branches shifted as if responding... and dissolving into space. Everything vanished into darkness; even the lantern was losing ground to the oppressive gloom, making the girl even more anxious. It seemed the enemy had appeared. A familiar evil spirit stepped out from the shadows in her usual guise: a black vest over a white blouse and skirt. Adjusting her short blonde hair, she flashed her red eyes and smiled – the seemingly young girl was delighted at the chance for revenge. "Could it be you..." Marisa hissed maliciously and tightened her grip on the magical device. "So it's you causing trouble here, Rumia?" "Someone else decided to play a prank," the youkai giggled, hinting at something. "And I'm happily helping! You see, the little humans are hiding, and I eat them, all as nature intended!" Clicking her tongue in annoyance, the witch jumped onto her broom and soared above the trees. Her magical projectiles were clearly visible in the artificial darkness, but they only managed to singe a few branches. Raising her palms before her, Rumia instantly conjured multiple arrows around her, like wedges of birds. In a synchronized dance, they shot towards Marisa, who unleashed her own attack. A whirlwind of searing magical dust burst from the witch, shielding her from enemy hits and even suppressing them. A blinding play of light illuminated the forest, and Rumia squeezed her eyes shut, clearly uncomfortable. Her expected move was to retreat into darkness, but Marisa, intending to close the distance, was surprised when she saw the counterattack. Rings of hundreds of arrows spread out, forming an almost impenetrable barrier. From her joined palms, the youkai ignited a huge ball of magic that suddenly shot out two swirling beams of light, leaving only a narrow passage between Rumia and Marisa, who was forced to carefully weave between other attacks to avoid being hit. The light beams grazed the witch, burning, blinding, and numbing her with pain. "You leave me no choice..." Marisa frowned, aiming the Mini-Hakkero at her enemy. "Master Spark!!!" A colossal laser of all the colors of the rainbow and magic erupted from the tiny object, ignoring obstacles, cleansing everything in its path, and only faltering against an opposing stream of light. Rumia's converging beams formed one, equally large and truly ready to compete, but even as a youkai of darkness at night, she couldn't rival pure force. Rumia's body lost control of its flight and plummeted helplessly downward, marking the end of the battle, however hard it was to call it that. The magician observed the situation a little longer before confirming it was truly over, then descended slowly to the fallen youkai's landing spot. Marisa wondered if she'd gone too far as she looked at the wounded Rumia, but dismissed the thought. Before her was a youkai, and far from the most honorable among them; such treatment for her behavior was probably even deserved? The magically induced darkness lifted from the surroundings like drops from glass, and the moonlight once again flooded the open path with its blue glow. Rumia was no longer there. Not only had she chosen not to defend against the light for a minuscule chance to win through surprise, but she'd also taken a direct hit from that same light across her entire body. For a youkai living exclusively in darkness, this was an unbearable burden. "And now, Rumia, where are those people?" Marisa demanded, politely dimming the lantern on her broom. "I don't know," the youkai rasped, groaning in pain. "They really did hide..." "Is it because of you that people disappear in the forest for so long?" The witch leaned closer to the girl to get a better look at her face. An expression of uneasy understanding appeared on it – perhaps she'd been misjudged. "What?" Rumia blinked. "N-no, they're the first ones I've met here at all!" A sob and a heavy cough followed from the girl, which didn't appeal to Marisa but offered a chance for a clue. The witch crouched beside the fallen youkai. "Tell me what you know, and I'll help you." "I heard about an evil youkai," Rumia began. "And I thought it was a good chance to snatch someone... And then..." Marisa tried to catch anything suspicious in the girl's words or behavior, but nothing contradicted what she already knew. Apparently, Rumia was telling the truth and had just been caught in the act. "Because of what?" Marisa snapped out of her thoughts, asking again, having missed the last words. "Silhouettes, I said!" Rumia frowned, repeating. "Small ones, there were so many, and I thought they were fairies, but following them deeper and deeper, I got lost myself..." So, small silhouettes, not attacking, but luring victims deeper into the forest. What was the point? To exhaust them, wait for the magic mushrooms to take effect, to kidnap, or to torment? Many possible reasons for what was happening spun in the witch's head, but there were few clues, only guesses. Sighing, Marisa snapped her fingers. Her broom responded, flying closer. The girl then removed the lamp, took Rumia's hand, helped her up, and sat her on the flying apparatus, instructing: "Don't squirm, and she'll take you to the shrine. Reimu will help... Probably." The youkai said nothing and obediently gripped the broomstick tighter, gradually ascending and dissolving into the darkening sky. Marisa was left alone with herself. She glanced around as she lifted the lantern, searching for something. When the night silence settled on her shoulders once more, the forest seemed even darker and more unwelcoming to the witch holding the light source. Impenetrable shadows indeed hinted at unfriendly silhouettes watching from behind the trees. Those people seemed unlikely to be found nearby anymore, if they were even still alive. "Darkest under the lamp, right?" Marisa muttered, shivering slightly, and left the burning lantern by the baskets in case the owners returned.

***

The girl in the black-and-white dress moved slowly through the unnervingly quiet forest, glancing around. Though she wanted to think the matter was settled, the feeling of being watched continued to unsettle her. The silhouettes she'd spotted earlier no longer seemed so illusory; now they almost deliberately drew attention, causing Marisa to unconsciously veer off her path somewhere to the side. Honestly, Marisa didn't remember this path being here before. However often she flew over the Forest of Magic, this part didn't have many paths – only one, leading from her house to the human village. In any case, it seemed the witch was already lost, having overplayed her detective game. Suddenly, ahead, about ten meters from Marisa, someone's figure appeared from behind a tree. Someone small was definitely peeking out from behind the plant's trunk and looking at the witch. This time, imagination had nothing to do with it, and she tensed, staring back. Those ten seconds of mutual scrutiny felt long for the girl, momentarily forgetting her self-proclaimed title of Great Magician. The silhouette waved, beckoning her closer, then vanished completely from view, leaving the black-and-white mage at the mercy of thoughts about whether it was a trap. Of course, it was a trap. But only this way was there a chance to find out exactly who was behind it all. And Marisa took a step, then another, and another... Was the tree getting closer to her, or was she to it? She felt so uneasy it was no longer clear. The Mini-Hakkero trembled in her clenched palm, ready to unleash all its stored power. She trusted her strength against anyone, but not the unknown. Finally, the witch stood before the ill-fated plant and, intending to fly around it, peered behind... only to find, to her surprise, something small at the base of the trunk. Creating a dim magical light, the girl could make it out: it was herself. Or rather, a small, plush version of her, incredibly detailed but seemingly hastily made, as if someone had been constantly watching and noting her appearance while creating this toy. Marisa shuddered as she picked up this "gift" and turned it over in her hands. Had someone been watching her all this time? Was this a Voodoo doll? Some kind of hint? Questions had just begun to swirl like a hurricane when they shattered into pieces from the shock that frightened the girl. Her doll moved, smiling at the original, and was immediately thrown to the ground. This clearly displeased the knitted creation, which slowly stood up, brushed itself off, and suddenly flew into the air, materializing a spear in its hands. Multiple rustling sounds came from the bushes behind, and then other dolls of various appearances emerged, all poised for battle. "What the hell?" burst from Marisa, clenching her fists in anger. "Whoever's controlling these things, show yourself right now!" But no one showed themselves, and she had to fight. The surrounded girl shot into the air just as they closed in around her, ready to impale her from all sides. However, as if anticipating this dodge, a pair of dolls caught up with the witch, latching onto her limbs with a death grip and becoming surprisingly heavy, severely hindering her flight. "Ah, you..." Marisa hissed. "You and your puppeteer are gonna get it!" The witch surrounded herself with a ring of magical connections, conjuring numerous rainbow projectiles in the air. As if that weren't enough, lasers sparked to life around her, chaotically slicing through space, including many of the dolls attacking Marisa. To her surprise, they didn't wound with their spears but activated embedded explosion spells, forcing the girl to embrace the hard ground – controlling levitation with an immovable burden was difficult. Marisa smelled gunpowder, her ears rang, fear washed over her, but even more so – adrenaline. The dolls binding her movements fell off, powerless, after their victim landed. Scrambling to her feet, she spotted the few surviving dolls with her gaze. They weren't rushing to attack; on the contrary, they seemed ready to flee. "You're not getting away!" yelled Marisa, jumping up and snatching her hat on the move. She desperately wanted to meet the one behind all this and teach them a lesson. And so the chase began. The dolls scattered in all directions, confusing and fending her off, but all, as one, headed roughly in the same direction until they led the girl to a very familiar place. Knowing the area didn't help her catch the annoying little things; her strength was leaving her body; bushes, potholes, and uneven ground wounded the panting witch; and the adrenaline faded as she lost sight of her targets. Leaning her back against one of the trees, Marisa tilted her head back to the sky searching for strength, but her gaze only met tree branches thick with foliage. Like a curtain hiding the truth behind them, they rustled softly, creating the only sound in this dead silence. A breeze blew, parting some of the leaves, and the magician saw. The starry sky seemed to prompt an idea. Her eyes widened with understanding of how close the truth had been all this time. 'Who could live near me?' she thought. 'And sew a lot?' There was only one answer, and Marisa was already repeating it in her head, waiting for her returning broom to arrive. That strange neighbor who never left the Forest. Her house was relatively close to Marisa's dwelling and had never attracted attention; rather, it even repelled with its atmosphere, so the best solution had always been simply not to disturb the residents. Now everything had changed and demanded intervention. Shooting into the sky like lightning, the witch sped off on her broom towards the place she usually avoided and quickly arrived. The clearing, opened to the moonlight, revealed a neat white house in European style. Its windows glowed with the light of magical lamps, and the path to the front door was devoid of even a single leaf, like a landing strip inviting her to finally burst inside. Without a second thought, Marisa gripped her broomstick tighter, looped in the air, and bulleted towards the entrance of the abode. A gust of wind, acceleration – the deafening crack of a door ripped from its hinges. It happened too fast even for the witch herself, who immediately found herself standing in the middle of the living room. Her gaze darted around and was drawn by a strange sound. The blonde girl in the white-and-blue dress was interrupted while rummaging in a chest, seemingly scattering unsuitable fabric. She stared at Marisa with stunned eyes for several seconds before jumping up, clutching a book she'd hastily grabbed from the floor to her chest. Immediately, dolls with spears appeared, shielding their mistress and surrounding the intruder who began her monologue. "Don't move!" The witch thrust an accusing finger towards Alice. "I'm here to stop your tricks!" But the monologue was cut short as its speaker was met with a barrage of crimson petals. Scattering in starry patterns across the room and slicing the air, they struck the walls and a hastily erected barrier. Its translucent aura flickered with each passing moment, cracking illusorily, until the magical barrier collapsed completely. Marisa hadn't expected such a swift clash and continued to defend herself, dodging and retreating, but attack after attack gradually caught up to her in this confined space. Her attempts to shout at the puppeteer yielded no results, nor did they offer a window for respite; wounds appeared on her body and clothes. Adrenaline spiked again, but not as high as in the previous fight, and she had to use it. 'The attacks are strong, but mindless... Is she scared?' the witch thought, scrutinizing each pattern and dodging once more, this time diving behind the sofa. 'Can't hold out much longer... need to end this in one go... Now!' In that moment, the piece of furniture flew into the air, vertically blocking the view between the two opponents. Disturbances became visible in the space, and the sofa hurtled straight towards the surprised Alice, who hurriedly sent her dolls to intercept. They sliced the flying obstacle to pieces in an instant. Now visible was the already-prepared magical seal and the enemy who had merely been biding her time. "Just settle down, will you?!" screamed the girl in the black-and-white dress, activating her attack spells. There was no time to dodge; Alice was caught off guard. Her stunned face, accepting defeat, was imprinted in the witch's mind. The dolls fell powerless without guidance under the onslaught of ball lightning; then their owner was thrown against the wall and immobilized. The chain-lightning discharges blinded and burned, sapping her strength until they finally subsided along with the surrounding chaos. Marisa adjusted her hat, ignoring the burning prickles all over her body. Her thoughtful gaze was now fixed on the defeated Alice. The puppeteer, sinking to her knees on the scorched floor, lowered her head, her bangs hiding her face but not her emotions. A sob was heard, then a whisper. Such silence fell around that it cut into Marisa's ears; she suddenly froze in place from the tension. "Why?" Alice asked haltingly. No answer came. "I hurt you so much..." Looking at her palms, her clothes, the girl found no trace of that short battle – only dust and tremors from an overload of emotions. "Am I really so weak," she murmured next, "that I only inspire pity? Can't even defend myself..." Marisa wanted to speak but paused, trying to grasp the situation. Alice had lost after attacking first, yet now she spoke of defense, her weakness, and was crying – so unconventional for Gensokyo Incidents... Yet a strangely familiar feeling flared within the witch. "It's always been like this!" the puppeteer hissed, clenching her fists. Alice lifted her head, revealing eyes red from tears, lips twisted in hurt over her own weakness, and spoke in a trembling voice: "Nothing works out, no one needs me... what's the point? My existence..." Marisa exhaled, closing her eyes, and finally took a step forward, moving closer to her interlocutor: "You asked why I didn't wound you in return? I'll answer. Here in Gensokyo, it's sometimes hard for us to get along, but we're in the same boat, and..." The puppeteer fell silent, lowering her head, her eyes blinking as if searching for truth somewhere on the floor. "You mean..." Alice sobbed in understanding, "...I'm really not welcome here?" She clutched her head, trying to suppress the throbbing pain. More tears streamed from her squeezed-shut eyes, trickling down her cheeks. "W-what?!" Marisa started. "No, you misunderstood!" "What didn't I understand?" Alice pushed the witch away and broke into hysterics, covering her face with her hands. "That everyone avoids me? Like you? That they don't even consider me a worthy opponent?!" The silence in Alice's living room became deafening after her scream. Dust from the destroyed sofa and magical explosions slowly settled in the lamplight and moonlight filtering through the broken door. Tears streamed down Alice's cheeks in rivulets, mixing with soot on the floor. Marisa froze; her usual bravado evaporated. She didn't see an enemy, not an Incident causer, but... a girl. Just as lonely as she herself had sometimes been, but cornered by her own despair. Alice's words echoed with a strange pain: hadn't she herself tried hard to be noticeable, to have someone pay attention to her? To prove she was worth something? "Hah..." escaped Marisa, an unexpectedly quiet, almost choked chuckle. She dropped the Mini-Hakkero she'd still been clutching. "Didn't expect that." Alice flinched, lifting her tear-streaked face. Eyes full of pain and incomprehension stared at the witch. "Didn't expect what?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "That I'd break down like this? That I'm weak?" "Didn't expect," Marisa took a step forward, cautiously, as if approaching a wild animal, "that we... we're so alike, that's what. I mean it." She came very close and, to Alice's surprise, didn't sit opposite her, but sank down beside her, back against the charred wall, shoulder to shoulder. An awkward silence hung again, but now without the former hostility, only the weight of what was said and the discomfort. "Look," Marisa began, not looking at Alice but at her soot-stained shoes. "Not being able to beat everyone in a fight... that doesn't mean you're unwanted by anyone, and it definitely doesn't mean everyone avoids you because you're strange." She frowned, searching for words. "Reimu avoids anyone who causes trouble, I avoid long conversations, Suika avoids sobriety, and you..." Marisa risked a glance at Alice. "You just... hide. Here, in the forest, behind these dolls, waiting for someone to come through all that. It doesn't work like that." Alice sniffled, but more quietly now. Marisa's words, blunt and direct as always, somehow cut less painfully than the silence. "How?" she asked almost soundlessly. "How... not to hide? How to make someone come... not because they're lost, not because I caused trouble?" "Well..." The witch scratched the back of her head, dislodging ash. "For starters, you could try not attacking people – it creates awkwardness for future tea parties!" Her voice held a weak attempt at a joke and a chuckle. Alice didn't smile, but the tension in her shoulders eased slightly. "And secondly..." Marisa looked around the devastated living room, the scattered fabric scraps, the dolls fallen from the shelves. Her gaze fell on that very small doll of herself, lying in a corner, its hat edge singed. An idea struck her: "Tea! You know how to make tea, right?" Alice nodded, blinking in bewilderment. "Then..." Marisa stood up, offering her hand to Alice. "Let's fix what we can fix. Do you have another intact teapot? And... maybe a couple of cups?" She looked around with exaggerated businesslike air. "I'll tidy up here real quick, and then..." Marisa looked directly into Alice's blue, still-damp eyes. "...We'll have tea. Just because I came. Consider it a visit. And I didn't get lost. Well, almost." For a moment, Alice just stared at the offered hand as if it were something incredible, alien. Then, slowly, hesitantly, she raised her own trembling hand and placed it in Marisa's palm. Her hand was cold. Marisa helped her up. Work began. Marisa, muttering something, actually quite deftly used telekinesis to gather the large furniture fragments into a pile, straightened up the floor, and even "beat" the dust out of the curtains with a couple of not-too-destructive magical claps. Alice, still quiet and a bit lost, as if in a trance, found an intact porcelain teapot and two surviving cups. Her movements were mechanical as she boiled water on a small magical stove and poured fragrant leaves into the teapot. By the time Marisa finished cleaning, a small table moved away from the danger zone already held the teapot, emitting warm, soothing steam, and two cups. Alice sat on the only surviving stool, clutching her Marisa-doll – the one with the burned hat – in her hands. Marisa approached, looked at the doll, then at Alice. Silently, she took the second cup and poured tea for herself, then for Alice. Steam curled between them. Silence stretched again, but now with less pain, more awkward anticipation. "Tha..." Alice began, but her voice broke. She swallowed. "Why... why didn't you treat me like that youkai? You could have." Marisa took a sip of the hot tea, winced, and set the cup aside. "Pff, too easy," Marisa waved a hand dismissively. "Hitting someone who's down, and crying to boot... That's not fair play, and..." She suddenly blushed, turning away to examine a crack in her cup. "...I felt bad seeing you like that. Like looking in a mirror at myself five years ago, only I pulled even dumber stunts, and the result was the same – everyone just ran away." She took another gulp of tea, more decisively this time. "So I thought..." Tears welled up in Alice's eyes again, but now they were tears of strange relief mixed with lingering shame and a fragile, budding hope. "So..." she whispered, "you didn't just come... to stop me?" "I came to resolve the Incident," Marisa corrected her with her usual bravado, but softened immediately seeing the shadow pass over Alice's face again. "And I did: the culprit is loneliness, tangled in puppet strings. And the cure..." She paused, searching for the word. "...Presence? Well, and tea. Tea is the main thing, as long as it doesn't try to blow you up." The corners of Alice's lips trembled almost imperceptibly – not quite a smile yet, but the hint of one. "Thank you," she breathed out so softly the words were almost lost in the tea steam. "Ah, don't mention it," Marisa brushed it off, but it was clear she was pleased. She finished her tea and stood up. "Alright, Puppet Master, I gotta go. Reimu's probably howling by now 'cause I dumped Rumia on her doorstep and..." She stretched, her back cracking. "...Need to get home, patch up the broom after all that running around..." Alice clutched the doll a little tighter. She watched as Marisa walked towards the hole where the door used to be, picking up her slightly dented but still flight-worthy broom. "Marisa?" she called out, a little louder this time. The black-and-white witch turned around, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?" "Tomorrow..." Alice hesitated, afraid of seeming pushy. "If you want... I have... I could try baking pancakes? To make up for the door and the furniture, and..." She didn't finish. Marisa stared at her for a second. Then she grinned widely, her own reckless grin, amused by how flustered her new acquaintance was. There was something warm in that grin. "Deal! Just no gunpowder this time, got it? I'll check!" She was already sitting on her broom, ready for takeoff. "About the door... we'll figure something out, promise!" And before Alice could say anything else, Marisa shot upward, leaving behind only sparks and a light breeze that rushed into the open house. Alice remained standing in the middle of the tidied, yet still battle-scarred living room. In her hands, she held a warm cup and the small, charred doll in the black-and-white dress. The house was quiet again, but the silence was different now. It didn't press down, didn't frighten with its abyss. Instead, it was filled with the gentle sounds of the night forest outside the window, the aroma of tea, and... anticipation. Fragile as the first frost, but real. She walked to the window. There was no trace of Marisa's broom left in the sky, only the stars and the moon illuminating the clearing before the house. Alice pressed the Marisa-doll to her chest. Drying tear tracks glistened on her cheeks, but in her blue eyes, for the first time in a long while, there was no despair. There was weariness, confusion, but also a tiny spark of something new, something warm. "She'll come," Alice thought, looking at the stars. "Just because. Not because she's lost." And for the first time in the many lonely years deep in the Forest of Magic, she didn't feel so cold. Tomorrow, there would be pancakes. And perhaps, someone's noisy, awkward, but very much alive laughter would fill this too-quiet house once more. Marisa, on her way to the shrine, wrestled with the white noise in her head, trying to fill it with new plans for what she and her new friend could do to help her... The trembling in her hands made flying difficult.