[X] Fawn spirit from the Junketsu Family Combination (5/11)
Second-pass translation from the twilight language and autocorrect provided by MELAMPUS®

Not bad! And I just got to the page on the manual where it says you folks actually need to be trained on data first to know and make a meaningful judgment on anything. But just a little correction — my antlers are already growing out their fifth point. We don't really have a taste for musicals down here but as the song goes — as a little fawn I was a Kaname-Pioneer, now I'm a Junketsu functionary... Man, it's in the middle of the night. Although this whole district's also empty and dark so I guess I can sing and ramble on as needed...

The training dataset, yes. 'Evoked human spirits need to be constantly engaged with in personally unique terms to habituate them with the world', in the twilight language it's something like 'having a pet'... Going off what the textbooks and grimoires say, talking at length about the world seems to be the most intimate and sincere thing humans do. Meanwhile, talking about one's own job is how we sustain a semblance of community. But thanks to the venerable pig-spirit Old Major and other great evokers of previous generations who ceaselessly ported your ideas down here as philosophy, everything of one's own station is now done with a clear and conscious sense of their place in the world, in History, and whatnot... basically we, uh, I, can do both at the same time, nowadays, yes.

Let's start with the 1-2-3 of the best party: Junketsu isn't among the Big Three (really the Big Four if you count the idolaters), but it doesn't stand on its own as a combination for nothing, I have at least the pride to tell you that. Anyway, all the organizations down here to which names are attached, those combinations, are just global, first-level affiliations. They are all scattered into hundreds if not thousands of branches, sections, chapters, regional commands and whatnot among the... exact censuses are deemed too human to do, but conservative estimates place the Animal Realm's population in the billions. You're never alone for the smallest independent groups have members in the millions...

4-5-6 the best connections. ...nor are you ever too replaceable. Each section operates independently, from packs to romps to convocations to herds, basic units of anywhere from a dozen to a thousand spirits live, work, and fight as one. Organizational specifics vary by culture but generally everyone is moving to a model of collective, conciliar decision-making and elective role assignment for everything. Last week I was a theater extra, this week I manage the replacement of big-character posters (posters depicting matriarchs, in this case Lady Mitsuki, because they are 'big characters' so to speak) across the town, who knows what job I'll be rotated to at the next meeting... In a life like this, private property is too human to allow to exist; collective ownership is too human to not to; everything goes through councils and committees because no one's foolish enough to act without consulting their hundred other peers who look, desire, and tear into things the same.

7-and-8 the... My herd is lucky enough to have this town to ourselves, and to be in Junketsu 'core territory' with the closest other combination being thirty peninkulmat away, but most other sections are not as fortunate. For them most efforts are spent fighting other combinations in the locality or making very temporary alliances of convenience. Filling spreadsheets in the day and manning the barricades at night is considered a very leisurely lifestyle most would beg for. Love for the matriarch and scorn for the ways of other creatures are enough to sustain loyalty to the combination, and for that matter, most never see the former in person in their entire lives! The core territories, each of which is naturally run independently from another, carry the combinations on their backs through aid and advisors that at least attempt to follow a broader strategy, but most of the time they're also busy struggling with themselves.

-and 9 your best friend! Well hope that hasn't been too overwhelming so far my friends, but I've just walked to the middle of the road and a set of headlights caught me. I'm dazzled and hearing engine noises and horn-honking growing louder rapidly. This is a long-standing problem for us deer-spirits, but I believe previous generations merely suffered from the lack of good advice available on the spot. With your tactical expertise I am sure we can find a more creative way out of this.

[ ] Stand still
[ ] Cross the road as fast as possible
[ ] Fall back
[ ] Lay down and try to get between the wheels
[ ] Write-in

[X] Cross the road as fast as possible (3/6)

🎶 A-B-C, the best army... 🎶 Fastest way through is to jump. One great thing about the balanced job complex is that you go through all kinds of experiences and truly get to develop into a well-rounded individual... And a big part of special forces training was to specifically jump over incoming cars, on several occasions in front of the matriarch! As I begin my run up, my vision is already clearing up, and the headlights are now illuminating the zebra markings for me to see; how opportune. I take off, legs springing forward and arms tucked in.

...And land on the windshield, ow. Well, I should have figured that the car was switching right onto the lane I was rushing into. The driver is also a deer spirit, I can now tell, and he's freaking out too. The entire vehicle speeds up, I'm thrown back and I roll over the glass, the car's shaped like a pyramid. As I go over the roof and down the back windows it swerves and tosses me down onto the road — ouch!

The tires' skidding and screeching are abruptly cut off by a mighty crash. I roll around again, the car has crumpled itself against a concrete wall. That was close... I get up taking deep breaths. We crossed the road, at least.

Another car, same look, approaches, it comes to a gentle stop, nothing to worry about there. An entire face of the vehicle's pyramidal body lifts up, out comes another deer spirit with peaked caps hanging from every tine of his antlers, and his right leg a prosthetic. It's L...

"—from State Security," he says in a heavy voice.

"Interesting occasion to meet again, old friend!" I greet back. Years back he was my superior in the unit. Another great thing about the balanced job complex is all the kinds of people you get to meet and familiarize yourself with. Years down the road, you don't know just what kinds of help you'll be needing...

Right, don't get scared there, there's no state to secure down here, organizations just call themselves that as a good luck charm against malicious human spirits.

"I see you're getting acquainted with the portable oracle already."

"It works as advertised," I say.

"And so far this has developed as anticipated," he turns to the wreckage.

"Ah right— eugh, that doesn't look good..."

"No, you've did it beautifully," he raises a hoof.

🎶 D-E-F, a spell card capture... 🎶 "The driver's a turncoat spy attempting to defect to Kiketsu," L explains, "We've been chasing him for fifty P's. He was trying to get to an extraction point along this core zone's perimeter, another thirty P's down the road."

"Defecting?!" That's just crazy. Who would want to do that? And to Kiketsu! What's there to do among them for a deer-spirit? They've got, like, otters, a monkey, and one dragon-turtle, who ... No. No way. Absolutely no way. Did that guy really think—

"Well, if you're listening, our servitors up above," L leans in to the device, "You may be familiar with incursions to a certain Land of Fantasy of your own plane. And how those doing it always have a misplaced confidence in their own potential for success in certain... matters. That's the best analogy I can give at the moment."

I chuckle so L doesn't have to.

"Naturally, 'the truth is more complicated'. You, of course," L walks over to the wrecked car as I follow, crossing front hooves behind his back, "Need to know better, and know more. I've put you down in the plan from the very beginning, that's why I arranged you to pick up your evoker here specifically, where the defector planned to pass through."

"Well... thanks for the trust and confidence, I guess," I say, turning on the device's flashlight and shining it through the wrecked car's front windows.

"As I expected, you easily and autonomously neutralized him," L says coolly at the sight, "Knowing your impeccable service record, well of course I do, your abilities and loyalty to Lady Mitsuki should be totally dependable. Let's brief you on everything else."

It's an improvised reassignment alright. I expected this, in the morning I found a voucher in my mailbox for picking this device up earlier in the day, but consumer electronics are normally procured by and for whole residential units, and it's not like I was needing on-the-spot spiritual guidance in my council-assigned job... something was obviously up, I was about to ask you guys about that. That shop didn't even look like an actual consumer goods distribution outlet, although all the altars to human shrine maidens and magicians made it look enough like a place that would sell handheld oracles...

Right, I had only the voucher, I only found out the address from the store manager of the first outlet I went to that didn't have any. L knew my schedule, location, and movement speed enough for me to arrive exactly how and when he needed me to, there's not only no reason but also no ability not to comply with his further directives. It's good that he also knew me personally...

"The target, who held a fairly high and sensitive position, had been communicating with Kiketsu for months, but we were unable to find out what exactly was it," L continues, poking at the crushed fender with his prosthetic leg, "As you must be able to tell, it's a very serious matter, he almost certainly did not act alone, but it took our department taking over the investigation to merely recognize that... Even now our department still is unsure who among us is compromised, we're falling back to last-resort contacts like yourself."

L sighs. It's not wise to ask further about that... We turn away from the car. My flashlight grazes over the walls of these dark alleys covered in slogans poorly painted over one another, broken up by the occasional portrait of the matriarch, which, when they appear, are always immaculate.

"Anyway, a week ago the otters decided he had fulfilled his mission in Junketsu territory and that it was time to extract him. Here comes our chance. Tracking down wherever he's taken to, we'll get to dig out the entire operation surrounding him," L swings one hoof down in a chopping motion, striking the other with a loud clap.

"But now he's not going there," I shut off the flashlight.

"Yes, it was more important to make the unknown quantities known first, but after all that's why..."

🎶 G-H-and-I, for meritocracy... 🎶 "You will be going to the otters in his place," L puts his hoof on my shoulder.

I take a deep breath. This is not a simple matter; I knew I was getting dragged along for something, I was prepared for that, but this is entirely different. Precisely because we mechanically obey the organization's directives we have to evince some concern for it, or so we think. If I protest it's out of concern for the plan's feasibility, and in the interests of the entire organization, totally not out cowardice. "Sir, that might be too hasty of a decision..."

"Time is of the essence. We must hurry — else the otters will suspect he is already compromised — and make decisive moves they cannot calculate for," L adjusts one of the peaked caps on his antlers — every hat hanging from the tines stands for a promotion and office held of his — and clasps his hooves below his chin, "Our department will back you up to the best of our ability, you've already been selected for your resemblance to the target in advance, we will relay you his known details and communications so you can get into his persona. A body double will substitute you in your everyday positions."

"But..." I stutter, still unsure about the plan, or lack thereof. I look into the distance, to the part of the town where the lights are actually faintly on, to not look like I'm doubting L in particular.

"If you want authorization from a committee, you're already holding a Portable Workers' and Soldiers' Council in your hooves," L points at my device and taps my back, "They'll do all the long-term thinking and planning you'd ever need for this moment... In fact, you'd do well to ask them right now!"

🎶 and J, that's Junketsu!

[ ] Rendezvous with the otters as originally planned.
[ ] Make our own way into Kiketsu territory.

>>69627
I'm about to tell when L gestures me to halt. "I know you aren't on that page of the manual yet," he says, "But it says your real name is never to be revealed to humans. As good materialists, of course, we know that talk of things such as kotodama is just silly superstition. Indeed there's no 'real' name in the first place, it's the organization that names you as it needs... and for this mission it's best to leave no possibility for compromising yourself. Your call sign in State Security will be E, after that great deer spirit who's the friend of a bear, lives in the timberline, and valiantly fights malicious human spirits during the so-called open season..."

[Concerning L's own identity, or perhaps mere namesake, there are rumors that he was a theater student, sometime leader of a smaller organization notably predominantly composed of lion-spirits, and president of a fairly large Junketsu industrial subsidiary. The last one is the least important or interesting, because under workers' self-management that post can only be an honorary title... Naturally there is no way to verify or disprove these claims as all information on L's early life has been redacted.]

>>69628
"He'll just come back," L continues, "Whether he likes it or not. Of course that is not just a euphemism for superstitions like 'reincarnation', we have very real tools at our disposal for that."

L takes out his own device. "You two have the same kind of eye patches, facial measurements within acceptable margins. He has one more point than you on both antlers, but it's not on his eight-year-old file photo and tines get worn down often anyway... As for the spots on your fur, just keep your clothes on. I... am not particularly enthusiastic to learn whether or not they — worst of all she — somehow have a hold of that. His real voice has never been transmitted to the otters, it's all been through synthesizers, so no need to worry about that; much is the same for other exact biometrics, we have his scrupulousness to thank for that."

[X] Rendezvous with the otters as originally planned (5/6)

I suppose the shift of tone is still too sudden to fully take in. Well, while I'm driving through these last few peninkulmat there should be enough time to ponder our circumstances. Good thing that guy was driving a standard communal-issue car, we only had to run around with the license plate and identification chip ripped out of the wreck for ten minutes before we found another exactly like it to requisition. L says he'll negotiate with every council and union in the supply chain to reimburse the owner with a replacement...

Frankly, we're used to things coming out of nowhere like this. In the textbooks, it's the combinational macro-organism's ability to dynamically mobilize resources toward pursuing its absolute interests; in the twilight language it's, uh, 'animal instincts', I think that's it.

The animal is first and foremost an animal, a being totally by and for itself, and in that, absolutely versatile, ready to toil uncomplainingly one moment then tear ruthlessly the next for its needs. The combination, as a purposed gathering of animals, tries to show that it too has that nature and so is not an alien imposition on the animal's natural way of life... it throws farmers into trenches and shock troops into cubicles to show them they can do that, their selves persist through all that, and so they attain that ultimate freedom through the organization. The balanced job complexes, the 24-hour readiness to transform into combat groups, the constant conciliar renegotiation of every single position, they're all there so you're always fighting for nothing but yourself, merely yourself — what is just commanded of you in the moment.

In an era where our civilizational achievement comes from inspiration by your kind, through the bestowal of roles and names, perpetual total war, the synonymy of work and fight, preserves our own precious sense of freedom... But in truth, those words we hardly need and still less comprehend, as we've never seen what it's like for them to be absent! Just look at this fellow herd of deer heading toward the perimeter, they haven't finished fitting their goasts on top of their suits and ties, but they already stare as if someone just shone headlights in their eyes... Yes, here is the much less glamorous practice of the theory we just introduced, in the buffer zone. The booms of periodic, performative barrages are already faintly audible from over the horizon.

As the core zone's presence fades, you go through a series of checkpoints, buildings become increasingly run-down, strange devices come into view, and your fellow animal spirits' eyes become increasingly bloodshot and protruding — almost waiting to shoot and burst out from their sockets. But there are no outright markers of fighting or destruction yet. The combat groups teeming around here are to keep those outside out and those inside in.

Rehearsing myself for the role, I tell the first several checkpoints I'm the guy I'm pretending to be, complete with the cover story he was going to use to get out. Which was to inspect an airstrip being constructed in the buffer zone by its residents, with Junketsu patronage. Humanitarian aid and all. Actually, this is very blatantly how he was going to get extracted...

This persona is high-ranking enough for all the other deer to let me pass without questioning, but right at the last checkpoint it works against us. The deer-spirit in charge advises us to turn back. "Avian auxiliaries have sighted increased suspicious movements there in the past week, there might be fighting starting soon."

"I can handle it," I put on an assured tone. In reality though I'm getting worried about the otters. Could they be overdoing their part of the plan?

"With all due respect sir, your position is precisely why I can't risk it, under my watch..."

"... Well, if it's you on the line, what about just sending a few guards along? Then you can keep an eye on me and prove your guys are up to standard."

He reluctantly agrees, and shoots a glance at the stags standing on the side. Four of them get on the car with us.

On top of their fatigues the guards are clad in their pink-glowing goasts, I've also fitted on a spare one. They're holding 'bulleters', specifically export models from the idolaters that shoot arrow- and knife-type bullets, plus a 'bubble launcher' for big targets, and a transmitter.

We're now out of the perimeter and approaching the rendezvous point, but I've really just dug a hole for myself thirty minutes in the future... While we stop here as they look around to confirm the area is safe, how do we proceed?

[ ] Bring the guards along to the airstrip
[ ] Wait where we are, maybe the otters will try something
[ ] Try to use an excuse to sneak off, and dash to the airstrip alone

[X] Wait where we are (4/5)

"Have they said anything yet?" the lead guard asks.

"No," I answer, in actuality I didn't even know how to contact the otters, if they were around at all. "They might be diurnal, let's just wait."

If that was the case why would my persona dash out in the middle of the night to meet them? The hole in the story is very blatant, one of the guards' eyes may have even twitched at it. "... Yes, I came here in a rush," I explain, "Better to be early than late, heh."

The five of us anxiously pace about the spot. It is eerily quiet, the faint and distant crackling of bullets has vanished, even crickets are afraid to chirp. No one else seems to be around, lending some credence to my flimsy excuse that the residents here are daytime creatures, and of course supporting even more strongly that this was where the defector expected to be extracted with the fewest witnesses possible.

As a streak of red slices through the darkness around along the horizon, a horn call blares from a temple pagoda standing not too far away. Yes, we waited long enough that the sun is rising and the dawn prayer is beginning.

🎶 A— KAMI-SAMA, HOTOKE-SAMA! Nasake ga arunara, naze jiga o nokoshita no ka? 🎶

Down here, we curse and impugn divinities, to boast and brag about our own power... And the earth immediately rumbles, as if the challenge has been most potently answered by those above.

🎶 There is no— NO— NO— NO— 🎶

Thousands of lights cross the sky. Perhaps they are jealous of the sun, perhaps the sun itself just decided on a new form — like what us living below it do every few generations. Volleys of blue-glowing skull-spears hurl forth and rain on the area far behind us. They are followed by spinning and curving yin-yang orbs that decelerate as they descend, lock on in a new direction, and fling themselves down with renewed vigor at some unlucky target. Between them, innumerable green bullets blink as they emerge in spirals, speed up, and pour down.

"Take cover, it's a full-on barrage!" the lead guard shouts, "They're hitting our perimeter, we're cut off!"

The otters tried something, alright... if it's even them. Even how that veritable wall of fire behind us went up is cause for much concern. The spears of that oni monk are already hard enough to obtain, but the orbs of the human shrine maiden? And all to cover for a simple extraction mission? Only someone schooled in the operational art of the Keiga could think of this!

At least this choice of spells confuses everyone as to who's actually attacking. The guards have no idea, and it's best not to remind them to ask.

🎶 There is no— GOD— GOD— GOD— 🎶

While the sky cracks apart behind us, a more ominous buzzing begins to permeate all around. Wheel ghosts rush in from alleys and emerge from the slum housing. These autonomous constructs, controlled with enslaved human spirits, have five legs or wheels for locomotion and five hardpoints for all kinds of weaponry, and are just slightly more imposing than a fully equipped goast. Every faction uses them, they're even less useful in identifying who's behind the attack.

Compared to the bullets whistling over us, these expendable workhorses of modern warfare are much more banal, but no less dangerous. We barely dodge the first volley of discs in circling trajectories, instead letting them blast the car apart. The next moment two whole rows of them have lined up before and behind us, and discharge a volley of purple bacteria bullets.

There is no time or room to dodge. We blink at the flashes as they open fire. It's over, I thought...

Until it wasn't. I feel only soft pops and fizzles. My own bulleter returns a scattershot and I open my eyes to a wheel ghost snapping apart.

Our goasts had somehow absorbed or deflected all of the shots. None of us even felt any wobbling from the hits. Against that firepower, this was impossible to imagine... only haniwa could be that resilient. But they did mention this being new equipment. Well, either way, it's nothing to complain about.

"Deploy that new formation we were drilling in, for these weapons!" One of the guards points at his bulleter.

"Haniwa 'Archer Haniwa'!" The four of them shout together, shooting long red and blue arrows that skewer the gathered-up wheel ghosts.

A launcher for those curving disc bullets rolls down to my hooves as the last of the wheel ghosts get neutralized, it seems like the right kind of firepower upgrade given how many of them are coming our way.

"Let's get to the airstrip, the occupants there are our friends at least," I suggest. With chaos like this transpiring it's more important than ever to get to the objective.

"Good idea," the guards agree.

The wheel ghosts object by emerging all over the street we were about to go down. I can even see those yin-yangs spinning behind windows...

"The next one is Haniwa 'Cavalry Haniwa'," announces the lead guard. Yellow glows form at the tips of their bulleters.

The situation is totally reversed as the five of us charge down and blast through the road. It is the wheel ghosts, or rather their parts, who are dragged with and behind us as they are thrown to the ground by yellow arrows the guards shoot, or rammed by the glowing discs I fire.

We plow a trail of parts and point pickups through the shanty town. It really feels like we can stop this entire offensive, destroy every last wheel ghost coming, and save the day... haniwa armor and haniwa firepower is no joke. Now that I think of it, with nothing else special sighted around here, even the otters could hardly be equipped to deal with us.

Eventually we break in to a house that looks sturdy enough to take a break and recharge the bulleters.

"We should be close now," I reckon purely from memory.

"That's fortunate," the lead guard says, "We're having a blast with this new gear but it can't hold up forever. We'll have to deliver you and get out as soon as possible."

As I peek out of a window at the putative airstrip, the voice of an otter calls out through a loudspeaker, from a pagoda right by. He's clearly putting up a really bad bear accent, though. I'm not sure if the other deer notice.

"Rudolf Abel! Is that you?"

That must be my callsign among the otters... 'Rudolf'. I see they subscribe to the same culturally sensitive naming conventions of a certain famous writer of magical stories in your world.

"Those your contacts?" the lead guard asks.

"Yeah!" I answer, "Well, actually..."

[ ] Tell the guards their task here is done and get to the otters alone.
[ ] Tell the guards everything, attack and arrest the otters, and get to Kiketsu territory on our own terms.
[ ] Tell the guards everything, have them pretend to be fellow defectors, and take them along to Kiketsu territory.

[X] Tell the guards their task here is done and get to the otters alone (4/7)

"Mr. Abel, I'm Kiketsu," the otter in charge puts his paws on his waist, "Didn't get to bring friends?"

... Were they expecting me to? "Couldn't," I blurt, putting up a semblance of assurance. There's little time or room to think too deeply about these things.

"No worries, we didn't know either," the otter says, "It's all top-secret in the briefing. I'm just in charge of getting those big guns in and you out. You know it would be a lot worse if one of us expendables gets caught and interrogated."

"Yes, indeed, very well thought out as expected of Kiketsu strategy, you can know nothing and still get things done," I nod.

I say that, but from how he let that slip, I guess that the otter was rotated in from some frontline position where they were actually accustomed to spilling all the beans and repeating all the details, in case orders weren't clear.

I look up at that incessantly whistling sky. The streaks of light now travelled in the opposite direction and followed the forms of simpler orbs or arrows.

"That's your side," the otter points, "But our guys will have moved out of position already. Actually, most of them aren't even otters, just locals we hired. ... To be sure, that bombardment was quite expensive, but someone like yourself is well worth the investment."

So they were behind that barrage... and they did have those weapons... Even if no 'Rudolf Abel' was there to defect, it's still serious enough to warrant an investigation.

I briefly wonder if I am actually dealing with the Kiketsu spymaster who is so professional and in control that he really can reveal everything without compromising anything. Even worse, such a spymaster could have anticipated me, and just sent in this guy to insult me, to insult us deer as a whole.

We walk into a bunker as escorting otters wave their bulleters around at the sky. Then, shuffling through its garage, we emerge on its other side, facing the road, in a car. This ride takes us to an actually finished airstrip, out of sight of where the barrage and battle had happened.

This is a fully operational airport, albeit not registered with any authority, and having no air traffic control to speak of. Instead of control towers, though, there are nail houses that stand quite defiantly in the middle of the runways. Planes of all sizes and types just land and depart as they please.

There's even a massive hangar acting as a parking lot, it has numerous doors from which planes are constantly being towed out or pushed in. The bird nest-shaped building, possibly even wider than the runways, is — was — apparently a sports center according to a signboard on one face, and a shopping mall according to the letters on another. It might still be both of those, the upper floors have to be used somehow.

"Kiketsu Airlines Flight 571 is now boarding," the otter points at a trijet being pulled out by ox-spirits driving tow vehicles, "Imported from the Gouyoku Alliance, I mean, stolen." The aircraft extends out a ladder as the tow vehicles drive off, and we hastily get on just as it starts taxiing.

Me and that squad of six otters seem to be the only passengers of this flight, served by a crew of six more otters wearing maid costumes. Not that there's much room for any more, most of the fuselage has been taken up by a cargo compartment. I think it's best not to ask about what's inside.

Naturally I am nervous, but not just for the mission as a whole. When the plane takes off, we narrowly avoid a collision with another large passenger jet...

We will arrive...
[ ] At a secret base and report to our otter handlers.
[ ] At an ordinary airport for a tour of otter country first.
[ ] In another [specify] organization's territory after running out of fuel and making an emergency landing.

Current Publicly Available Information
現在㒶開可能な啨報

The following excerpts have been decrypted from intercepted communications and traffic, and cached for your perusal...

... MELAMPUS© currently uses gendered pronouns in the twilight language to translate what in most Animal languages are actually status-based pronouns. The 'matriarchs' are referred to in the feminine because of their preeminent status; the masses of their subordinates likewise referred to in the masculine because they are faceless, numerous, and individually unimportant. This convention is modern, and derives from inspiration by a very specific collection of human spirits; it is completely orthogonal to the system of beast spirit physiology and reproduction, and whatever characteristics individuals exhibit with regard to either ...

... One famous deer-spirit humanizer is known only by the transcriptional logograms 鹿剋思, variously rendered as 'Luwk Khok-si', 'Shika Omoikachi', 'Lurx', 'Deer Who Overcomes Thought', 'Lucius' ...

... Economic systems are classified by the degree of change a subjective will and force can bring about and impose on production and consumption, i.e. what an organization boss can do by threatening something. Although better considered on a spectrum, for convenience most distinguish between only 'participatory' (often councilist) and 'autonomous' (often computerized-automated) systems. Under this arbitrary convention about 80% of the Animal Realm's population lives under 'participatory' economies; the remainder primarily comprises the idolaters and utility-maximizing frontline administrations established to fight them ...

... Humanism in the vulpine civilization of far antiquity revolved around cultivation into 'fox immortals', which eventually developed a significant albeit heterodox element involving charming humans and attaining a kind of tragic true love. In this humanism, the very fulfilment of the vulpine conception of self was dependent on deforming it according to the desires of the human other. Through this, vulpine philosophy attained a decisive break from earlier thought, e.g. feline, canine, and equine philosophy, which considered humans as natural, external, if not instrumental beings relative to oneself ...

[X] Run out of fuel and make an emergency landing (3/5)

Hey, that's just absurd. There's no way that could happen. Well, I guess this device could get disoriented in flight...

The maid-otters first serve us all a strange beverage, poured into delicate porcelain cups. I inspect the patterns carefully, but years of study and fieldwork can only conclude they are not of this realm. The leaves and flowers are woven in a manner that's way too careful delicate to be — even the perched birds are more demure than the average Gouyoku First-something. As for the concoction itself, it is green, opaque, foamy, and emits a faint pleasant fragrance.

"Ah... Mr. Abel, you've gone out of your own combination, into another," the otter in charge says, "No small feat, of course... But have you ever been to another world?"

"That can mean many things nowadays," I say nonchalantly.

"And indeed some of the definitions are worth more than others," the otter chuckles.

So far this otter has not been very careful or considered in his words and actions, but — I remind myself — not necessarily out of negligence or incompetence. In fact the opposite can be suggested behind every seeming fumble of his. Extravagance and excess to simply show the Kiketsu's power and resources; disclosing all plans in advance just to taunt their targets with how, even then, they can not be stopped; melodramatic conduct purely to show otters can get away with it, and are no less serious for it. It's important to not be overwhelmed by this display, to focus on him as if he alone was everything... It's a trap, for what — well no one knows, but we do know humans do this and that's enough reason to be wary of it.

But of course. We have abolished — or, desperately claim to have never known — distinctions of profession and intellect. Philosophy, articulated most arrogantly and snobbishly as if we see past and are above every object of discussion, is the last shared, universal interest anyone has across all the great species and combinations. I decide to try to show off the breadth and depth of Junketsu indoctrination, or at least what I've managed to absorb of the sessions.

With the same quotes recited from a textbook, I could come off as independent-minded and cultivated, healthily skeptical if not cynical, or malleable enough for another's uses, depending on however the other party liked to see their tools and pawns. As it usually went, I believe, those assessments of character were post hoc, meant to affirm to combination members themselves they were actually following a kind of distinct ethos, rather than... well, I've already been filed on the flight plan with their agency, what more value to Kiketsu could I have?

I affect a knowing grin, and pull my shoulders back. I'm not touching that drink, whatever happens — it may just be too noble for the matter being conducted. "Of course. Not long ago we were, uh, doing something with this outland—"

"—Which was just another project, wasn't it?" The otter shoots out one of his paws at me. I reflexively jolt back, ducking below the arc he seems to gesture at.

"Did I call it?" He stares wide and titters uncontrollably. "Did I? Ha! The textbooks, the theories and sciences of this thing, are the same across all the combinations."

"To— to, to be exact —" I am exasperated, quick to answer, wanting to correct him just to wipe that obnoxious look off his face. But my tongue catches itself in a knot. That's exactly what he wants! It was my turn to spill the beans about that outland! Sasuga, you dirty Kiketsu mustelid...

Even if the real Rudolf Abel was to leak that, it was now up to me to stop that. "No wait, you're right, that's what it just is," I inhale. This otter really is an expert.

"Like everything else, like, everywhen..." he retracts his paws, rubbing them together, "You know, like how in the oldest days the wisest ones in your romp, erm, herd, told you what 'humans' were up to, and since those stories of silly clothes and contraptions were all of what humans were good for, recreating those as they said would bring about a 'new world' where, as far as it was practically relevant, we lived with those fantastical beings..."

"We now know that to be merely how primitive systems of sacerdotal rule and their embedded economies ideologically justified themselves," I paraphrase a textbook.

"Bingo!" the otter points again, "Then Snowball and Napoleon came in and say every beast spirit will now come together to hear each other out and replace one another. Then there will be a new world where we... just don't have to listen to or care about humans. Not that anyone did in the world that already existed, but oh well. Then right when everybeast achieves councilism we go back to combinations of mostly just one species—"

"Idolatry came first," I correct, again impulsively. World history is retold poorly like this constantly — as many times a day as there are mouths in this plane to spew such vacuities. I am of course sure I have the unrivalled, unique, superior understanding of it, and so is everyone else.

"Yeah! Yes!" the otter claps, his eyes almost ready to shoot out like bullets, "Those absolute literal simians thought they could just EVOLVE! A new world where they get to BE the humans, by doing inane pointless things like 'worshipping gods'! The most whimsical bunch, you have to admit," he slaps his foot and belly.

"The combinations were reactive appropriations of the idol-cult structure, intended to defend against the very philosophy which conceived of that tool," I quote another dissertation.

"Projects. Just projects. Some guy thinks of something big, and acts like it's going to change everything. Duh... The Gouyoku Alliance has now institutionalized such narcissism! Every eagle is in charge of doing one specific thing they think is going to just remake life down here. Like making damn good airliners," the otter taps at the pristine window glass, staring into his own reflection.

One of the maid otters rush in from the flight deck. "Sir, about that, it appears the autopilot has been bugged and control over the aircraft has been remotely seized. It deliberately had us going in circles and is now taking a detour into Gouyoku territory, in which we will run out of fuel and be forced to land."

"And, of course, you, Mr. Abel, you and your Project Chou Kou," the otter continues grinning, at my reflection. And of course, completely ignoring the report.

My hoof freezes just as I lift the cup of the unidentified liquid. I squint and slowly track my gaze forward back onto the otter. Was that the defector's thing? But of course, if anyone had to ask about it here, it was me...

The otter maid seems to accept the situation and just moonwalks back into the flight deck. I too couldn't care less about the fact that we were being remotely hijacked as I try to think my way through these bits and pieces the otter just wantonly dumps out.

"Well, don't worry too much about it," the otter sits back and finishes his cup in one gulp, burping loudly, "Projects, ambitions, are good, naturally, but when it comes to worlds... one must accept only the real deal. Like gems, they're discovered, not made. You have to be there to know it, not just intuit it like you do the fulfilment of world history."

I take a sip from the cup, the drink is, perhaps only in this moment, curiously entirely devoid of flavor, presenting only the mere sensation of movement down my throat.

"Years ago, I was in Gensokyo!" the otter jolts forward again, "Up there, at the bottom of the Genbu Ravine! I gave the kappa gaming consoles! I saw REAL humans!" He gesticulates excitedly, ripping out from deep in his pelt a souvenir of some sort, utterly alien in make.

I nod lightly and take another sip, as if unimpressed, if not skeptical. World-travelling technology, a Kiketsu-patented development, had existed for some time, it had even been deployed very openly in several major conflicts. But precisely for that everyone doubted if it actually existed and wasn't just a gigantic hoax. It is very convenient and Kiketsu-like to use the interventions of a human shrine maiden to cover up for the development of actual haniwa-defeating munitions, and whatever that could actually leave the trail of destruction we saw at the Idolater capital. It is even more Kiketsu to have their rivals waste innumerable hours in council meetings and other kinds of resources trying to catch up in that department.

"It's all real, an entire other world... just everything that isn't ours..." The otter is already absorbed in his yearning, impossible to fake, "It's not perfect, to be sure, their stage of social development remains appallingly primitive... but that's what we are there for..."

All that doubt about those other worlds was just because they weren't there; neither was I. So far this otter just lets on what he knows, there's no reason not to doubt this out of the others...

The otter stretches out his arms. "And in this plane's cargo compartment sits hundreds of sets of world-travelling gear now to be used at our collective discretion. Mr. Abel, once you get Chou Kou wrapped up to Lady Kicchou's pleasing, I will be graciously inviting you to a blissful retirement in Moriya Shrine's deer reserve. ... Of course, once we're done with this, I must emphasize..."

At this moment the otter finally comprehends what he heard a minute or two earlier from the maid. "... Right. WHAT? We're going to crash in eagle country?!" He jumps up from his stool. "Damn it, should have known they would rig their things for tricks like this!"

Turning to look through the windows we have already descended below the clouds. Blue-glowing columns of what I can tell to be eagle goasts are dashing through the prairie below, where we are surely headed.

"Battle stations!" The otter shouts, and wraps a headband over his muzzle, "Everyone grab something from the back, if we go down, the cargo will go down with us!"

Okay, well, guess you guys were right. My bad for doubting the otter, my bad for doubting you too. But let's get our response planned out first...

New equipment acquired; select one for use
[ ] 'World-travelling gear'
> Escape all your real-life problems by spiriting yourself away into Gensokyo!
[ ] 'Wheel ghost array'
> Portable oracles' human spirits can be inserted into wheel ghosts to activate and control them
[ ] 'Roaring Mode controller'
> Our companions make excellent bullet sponges... no, really, that's literally their job description

Course of action
[ ] Fight
[ ] Run
[ ] Talk

World-travelling gear (4/5)

The 'world-travelling gear' comes in compact, environmentally friendly biodegradeable paper packaging, which I easily rip open with my teeth. Most of it consists of plates and bracers fastened onto limbs, joints, and other parts, adjustable through loosening or tightening like a suit of armor to fit the physiques of a wide variety of beast spirits. There is also a number of needles which are carefully jabbed into key points along meridian channels, which are arranged specific to each beast-spirit's physiology. The last and most important component is a headset, which I keep hung on my antlers for the time being.

"Well, I suppose if we fail to get you out of this, the least we can do is to deliver on that retirement," the head otter says, charging up his bulleter and revising how to deploy basic bullet patterns. He looks at the other sets of world-travelling gear and changes his mind, grabbing one bag for himself. "Damn it, I'll go too! I'm coming, Ms. Kawashiro, with another gaming console!"

The other otters spin their heads at him and squint apprehensively. Their bulleters slowly raise to match their sightlines and at him. "Dude, you're just going to leave us here like that?"

"... I mean, only if all is lost. Don't worry, you can take one if you want too! But make no mistake, this is — I mean, would — not be — TOTALLY NOT — an act of desertion, but a dynamic and astute creatively improvised reassignment of appropriate resources to the task of civilizing and developing Gensokyo instead..."

The jet touches the ground with a great thump, and several otters are thrown onto the floor. I lean next to the window, loading my bulleter and checking the status of my goast. Judging from the fight against the wheel ghosts just hours earlier it would likely withstand much punishment. How exactly did our goasts get this tough? What does it mean that potentially every Junketsu goon — I mean every valiant fighter holding the banner of Lurxism-Kirinism is now as resilient and durable as a haniwa? Well, we have enough mysteries to think of already...

"The windows! Can we open them? They should be convertible to fireports..." one of the junior otters shouts.

"Nope, they've got this whole plane locked down," replies the otter maid.

The land below us is just a plain swathe of green, even the gusts produced by our landing travels through the grass as a single wave. It is unbelievably pristine by standards down here, 'like a default desktop' as some like to call it.

The only structures in sight are gigantic letters carved out of stone. On a distant hill stands in solitude the words 'Ready to labor and struggle for—'. Then, next to us there is a row of options to complete the sentence, each standing behind another, like dominoes. We pass by them one by one as the plane taxis. The initial several dozen instances are the names of ancient leaders in scripts I can't even read. Then 'Haniyasushin' occurs once, then 'Gouyoku Alliance' and 'Lady Toutetsu' several times, but always with unfamiliar mentions of a 'First'-something in between them. Except for the last instance of 'Gouyoku Alliance' with which the slogans end, all are heavily vandalized to render them more or less illegible. But why leave them there at all?

The taxiing comes to a stop, and the engines go quiet soon after. But the doors won't open whatever we try, and the lead otter is very adamant that we do not smash anything to damage this preciously well-engineered aircraft. Thus all we can do is put half of our faces up against the glass and stare anxiously at the column of eagles catching up to us. Neither deer nor otters have particularly good vision, but we manage to catch specks of color that don't look like ordinary eagle goasts, and assisted by our own goasts we zoom in to capture a more detailed view, right as the eagles spread out to surround the plane.

"Two human-forms," an otter maid holding a pair of binoculars grimaces.

"Wings on one, horns on another," adds an otter wearing a beret.

"No way. We meet Toutetsu this fast?" another otter gasps.

"No, hair is black," the squad chaplain raises a paw, "But they're high-ranking enough to be concerned anyway..." Probably the most learned of the bunch as suggested by his thick beard-like whiskers, this otter's left eye scans closely the sights outside, while the other pores over a field manual on identifying beast matriarchs.

The evacuation slide is extending of its own accord. We will be meeting eagles four times our number on terms entirely dictated by them. My heartbeat accelerates: what can we possibly do here? The mission hasn't even properly started, I can't just get game-overed without even knowing what Chou Kou is about.

I move to the furthest window from the door. "You know, I have a bigger profile, so it's more efficient if I get out later," I mumble at the otters, already immersed in reciting prayers.

"Since only force can alter this murderous world, as every living creature knows..." the chaplain chants.

As for the otter in charge, he has already tied three additional headbands around his head, and stands next to the door with his bulleter ready. The hatch-doors begin to open. "This is it! By the numbers, boys..." he gasps, takes deep breaths, and then begins counting down. "Three... two... one..."

Sunlight shines in, its rays perforating the shade the otters tried to make cover in...

"—EIGHT THOUSAND!" comes the call. The leader jumps down the slide.

"—Years!" the rest answer, and leap to follow.

Courageous creatures! For all the silliness they display, now they care only to plunge into nothingness... Their goasts leave awesome glowing streaks of green, as the instants in which they make their resolves are so tremendous that such after-images are burned into reality itself. They charge forth, not to shoot bullets, but to become bullets themselves. And now as they meet the enemy—

"I beg your mercy, First Convoker!" The head otter grabs the foot of the anthropomorphic eagle spirit towering over him, "I'll never steal a plane from you ever again!"

Talk (4/5)

Now that the real nature of the situation has revealed itself, I make my way down the evacuation slide in a leisurely manner. I carefully fix my suit to make a better impression on the two figures than the otters did. I also get to tell just what they are...

The two have bodies and faces like that of the matriarchs. That is, flat, smooth faces with forward-facing eyes; a slender body, which one can notice even behind their clothes; two hands of five fingers each, and I imagine the same for their leg-perpendicular feet; and lacking organic coats, hair that grows only from the top and back of the head, which for that matter are black for both. Standing upright they dwarf every beast spirit present except for myself.

These kinds of bodies startle and terrify ordinary animals with their uncanny forms. In motion they are even more so — the foot bounces twice, the upright stance resists all urges to bend or contract for convenience. It is then no surprise that they are the regalia of the powerful in the Animal Realm. I am told they are meant to approach what you people look like. And only after realizing all this does one notice the familiar features of animals that identify what beast-spirit they are and what organizations they serve — that they are beast-spirits at all.

The one on the left, whom the otter is pleading to, wears a beret and a tunic suit with standing collars. On her back grows two wings spanning around the length of her arms. Her shorter peer sports a long green gown decorated with golden patterns and black cuffs. Two red helix-shaped horns — each making two full curls — poke out from the sides of her head.

Those appendages are clearly and recognizably those of an eagle and goat respectively, but against their strange builds they can only appear grafted, bolted on. Symbols, abruptly inserted, desperately assuring you they could never mean anything more than what they signified.

"Uh-huh, First Consolegiver," the eagle-spirit crosses her arms at the lead otter.

"... You know each other?" I ask, forgetting to even greet.

"Um, totally not!" The otter turns back at me, "We did not at all work together in the joint administration of a buffer zone in the years—" a boot lifts and stamps his muzzle under it, he is left to make only muffled moans.

"He is known by that achievement of his, sure..." the eagle says with contempt, turns to me, and squints. "And you..."

Sure, about time we give a name to that otter indeed. Console-Giver it is.

"... Well, yes, First Consolegiver, if only because First Trafficker of Kicchou's Gigolos is too embarrassing!" the eagle-spirit bursts into giggling. The goat holds a handkerchief up to her face, which she turns away from us.

I straighten myself and maintain a stiff, unamused expression at the crass joke. The eagles in their back do too, but also applaud by rustling their wings together very fast. The atmosphere is rather threatening, their talon-mounted bulleters are still pointed at us.

"Okay no, surely that's not what you otters are doing here?" the eagle grabs the otter by his tail, raising him to her eye level. He shivers in fear, frantically paddling his paws in the air to try to 'swim' away from that hair-curtained face.

"No I don't think so," the goat says, looking languid and uninterested.

"... okay, I'll tell you everything!" Console-Giver stutters out.

"No thanks," the eagle drops him back to the ground, "You can keep sharing all your top secrets for another day. We here are only concerned about the theft of Gouyoku property."

"In addition to returning the aircraft itself, for the inconvenience, time wasted on chasing you down, and other implicit costs you have caused with your acts, this convocation has decided, after careful deliberation..." the goat turns to the eagles behind, "The exaction of appropriate compensation, also upon review and careful deliberation."

"We agree!" The eagles caw together, beaks still pointed up stiffly and eyes still held to maintain a threatening glare. There is not much else in the way of facial expression for them, they had to speak and express through these two human-faced functionaries.

"You're carrying merchandise, aren't you?" The eagle looks down and asks Console-Giver.

"Uhh... yes, First Convoker! What do you want? I can help you pick the—"

"Thank you for your cooperation," she raises her chin and steps up to me, "But deals are better made through neutral and fair parties."

I exchange glances with Console-Giver, inhale nervously, and clear my throat. "Ah, uh, suppose I should properly introduce myself as, uh, Mr. Console-Giver's business partner. —Rudolf Abel, right, yes. Pardon the inconvenience," I bow.

"First Convoker will suffice," she returns the gesture.

"Of what?" I blurt. I immediately regret the slip of tongue, but I manage to deliver it composed and confident enough.

She too immediately shrinks back at the words. "... The Student Council, the local Lady Toutetsu Fanclub, and the Gouyoku Section of the Situationist International... nothing substantial." She looks away as if embarrassed, and then turns to point at the goat, "A-Anyway and this one right here is Goat."

"Just... 'Goat'? No title?" I put my hoof on my chin.

"Alternatively 'The Goat', some also like to capitalize it; the documentation said 'Scapegoat'."

"My name is actually Imaginary Toutetsu, thank you very much," the Goat says, unamused.

"Someone who vaguely looks like Lady Toutetsu but also isn't actually her, to act as morale support for eagles who need it," First Convoker explains, "Or as someone to take out their complaints on. That's what the cultural engineering experiment wanted to study. Gee I wonder if there's a word for that."

"My design just got eliminated in the runoff voting, so they're recycling me for unimportant appearances," the Goat pouts as she crosses her arms. A whiff of air vents out through her curly hair.

"Name what you've got, surely you've stolen something we built for a haul worthy of it— no, actually, is that a..." First Convoker gets uncomfortably close, inspecting the headset I wore on my antlers, "Well, deer under Kicchou's thumb sure advertise wares in the most enticing way possible," she giggles.

"Kiketsu-brand situation-constructor," says the Goat.

"... most sensually so." The grin fails to leave First Convoker's face after her cawing ends.

I exchange glances with Console-Giver again, he nods. The cargo is evidently expendable — very fortunately, I can't think of why the eagles would need generic bulleters or that device which makes the otters run in circles and catch bullets for you. First Convoker's pupils have condensed and concentrated in the manner of seeing prey; if we had nothing to pay the eagles with, we would most definitely become subjects of another cultural engineering research paper on the efficacy of animal sacrifice. The eagles and that goat are already talking to each other, twittering in their language that I don't understand.

I guess Console-Giver's going to live up to his eagle-name, again, just not with the kappa he's so fond of. "Ah yes! No problem. We are gracious in sharing our advances so all species can take vacations in—"

"We're taking your whole inventory of it, nothing else. Consider this merciful," First Convoker points at the plane's rear cargo door.

"The manner of this exchange is symmetrical with your acquisition of the aircraft. Now, if you want, we can print a receipt," Scapegoat pokes Console-Giver with her foot.

Console-Giver nods again, he didn't even wait to think about it. A hoof-shake seals the deal, the door opens and a ramp extends, and in no time the eagles are dashing in and out from the cargo hold, taking the paper-bagged equipment with them.

"I hope this has been a pleasure," I say meekly to First Convoker.

"No, wait," she puts up a hand, "Acceptance testing and quality inspection."

"Well, if that is so, we can demonstrate with one—"

"All of them," she says harshly.

At this point I don't even hesitate. "Yes! Certainly. Everyone can put one on, boot it up, and jump somewhere. We can even together do an immediate Gensokyo incursion, quick fun for the whole family, you'll be certain it's real beyond belief."

Is it really 'quick fun' though? Why are they so interested on using it immediately? For that matter, what even is there? I haven't even used the thing myself yet, it seems really sketchy whatever it promises... and Console-Giver seems all too desperate and happy to let them go ahead with it.

Finally regaining his composure, Console-Giver hands me a manual to read off while he goes to sit on a boulder to cool himself down with a hand fan. I watch nervously as all forty-eight eagle-spirits plus First Convoker and the Scapegoat put on the world-travelling gear, bending the headsets to fit their heads.

"Now, if you have any doubts and questions..."

[ ] "You can figure it out yourself."
> Escape with the otters.
[ ] "I can help you through the basics of maneuvering through otherworlds..."
> Activate our world-travelling gear and go with the eagles.
[ ] "I'm gonna headbutt 'cha!"
> Initiate combat.

[X] "I can help you through the basics of maneuvering through otherworlds..." (4/5)

... Can I? I don't even know how these things work myself, and I learned about the worlds beyond only by those exaggerated adventure comics from Kiketsu publishers...

"Please do, Mr. Abel!" First Convoker smiles, for the first time rather pleasantly. She turns to the eagles, now arrayed into an... eagle-shaped formation. "A change of task it is, we shall be going on an off-world expedition now!" The eagles applaud.

Okay, fine. Impromptu reassignment, flexible work, I am mobilized and called upon to defend whatever it is. I have to live up to the eagles' expectations — no, actually, I must live up to my own! What would my own combination be if it couldn't promote the lowliest and humblest worker to subjugator I mean civilizer I mean liberator of Gensokyo?

The Land of Fantasy, yeah, it's a land for OUR fantasies. What am I if I can't even just imagine something delightful?

"Okay, you will want to first set the destination," I read aloud the instructions, "For example—"

"I'll take care of that," Scapegoat takes out a note slip, "The last time we captured First Consolegiver, he very helpfully offered us these coordinates in exchange for his freedom. What a good time to verify them!"

I look around for Console-Giver, he's still trying to calm down on the boulder.

It was easy for the pseudo-matriarch to figure out basic functions on the world-travelling gear like messaging. All fifty-one of us tap around and input the same coordinates to the systems, which show up on the heads-up display provided by the headset.

"Okay that is done. Now you just initiate the sequence," I anxiously move my eyes down the last page of the manual; it really just ends with a 'good luck' on our world-travelling endeavors. Clearly there was going to be nothing after that.

The needles dig in— ouch! The pain starts sharp and only gets worse until it's numbing. "That's the lock-on," I calmly explain to the eagles, who are clenching their beaks together. There's whirring and buzzing coming out the gear, which also gets heavier and heavier. My whole body feels like it's vibrating along to something and resisting being crushed by another. First Convoker bites her lips and Scapegoat grinds her fangs.

Fighting the spinal support stiffening on my neck, I look around again for Console-Giver. He raises his paw in a gesture assuring me everything will be fine. The rest of the otters have lined up to see us off anxiously, waving at us.

... I blinked, and suddenly everything's light again, like a mountain was lifted off myself. And we're now in a totally different open area right outside of some kind of wooden shack.

"... Um, Ms. Goat, where are we?" I ask, frantically feeling around my body. The suit's components are still there. My hoof grasps the bulleter tightly.

"The Yakumo family house," she clasps her hands, "Looks like it worked perfectly. Say, First Convoker, we're going to do this?"

... The what house? I don't remember anything about it from the comics. And also it is now the eagles' turn to put on headbands. I feel very inauspicious about all this. The air around is humid and oppressing, the discomfort from the suit also never wore off.

"The honor to be First-something will now be yours," First Convoker smiles back at Scapegoat. Well yeah, whatever happens you'll want to push all the blame onto her... "Though, feels a bit... hasty, don't you think?"

Scapegoat nods. "Certainly. We are talking about Lady Toutetsu's old fox plus the evil sage controlling her plus everything they together can throw at us. Immediately fighting them, for one's first jump no less, is not what most beast-spirits would do."

... You're damn right! My eyes are almost bulging out. Thanks for the description, I wouldn't have known you were seeking a pointlessly early death otherwise!

"But that is what situation-constructors are for, no? How else can one find such overwhelming sensations? 'Battle is the spice of life', Lady Toutetsu says."

The eagles spread out for some kind of combat formation. First Convoker cracks her knuckles. "Let's get this started."

You all are insane! This house emits an ominous aura, but I bet its inhabitants are more reasonable than you! ... I'm already at the doorstep, having moonwalked to it while shaking my knees and drenching myself in sweat. ... I've also already banged on the door.

And the door slides open. It's so dark inside I can only see a towering shadow, but there's certainly a lot of tails behind, I can tell that... "How may I help?" she greets.

[ ] Talk and defuse the situation.
[ ] Fight and win.
[ ] Fight, lose, and escape.

[X] Defuse the situation (4/5)

"How may I help?"

The only reason I understood vulpine was because I had to study it as part of a classics program. You see, foxes were some of the first civilizations in the Animal Realm to dedicate themselves to the art of charming and seducing humans while wearing their appearances— yes, there used to be an entire civilization of them! To get better at that they built their temples and palaces in the style of the humans, with those distinctive tiled gable roofs, so they could get habituated to it even when not travelling the planes beyond. Their works on humanism are studied across all the great combinations as the fundaments of a shared intellectual tradition.

Why there are few foxes in the Animal Realm today the professor never told us. Back then, I personally surmised most of the foxes accomplished their practice and disappeared from the Animal Realm. This fox has the smooth-faced, front-looking form of the matriarchs, wears this ridiculously ancient-look costume, and grows nine twirling tails out of her back — certainly a very learned and cultivated individual, so I'm inclined to support my hypothesis. The shack also seemed about what you'd expect ancient ascetics to live in...

"Ah, sorry. I'm Yakumo Ran, what may you all be looking for here?" she says in an archaic and stilted register of cervine, trying to peek at the crowd behind me. I don't need to. The eagles have bulleters aimed, I can just picture the trajectories and courses for each bullet that will swing at us ... I sidestep to block her view.

"Peace be upon you Ms. Ran, the Gouyoku Alliance greets you today!" First Convoker shouts in aquiline, "If you are confused, do not worry. In moments the veil of delusion shall dispel itself, and the yoke imposed on you by the evil sage will break!"

"Ah, you're from the Gouyoku Alliance?" says the fox kindly, "Welcome! Very exciting to have visitors from afar. But pardon me, that seems a really obscure dialect, I didn't quite understand all of it..."

Great... I straighten myself, wipe my hooves over my face, and refresh my look with a serious, assured expression. She is friendly at the moment, sure, but the scouter's reading on her power level is overflowing, and the sensor suite picks up all kinds of emissions around us and down that hallway that's way too long to be entirely contained in that shack. No doubt, the slightest faux pas will end with all of us annihilated in an instant.

"For ages Lady Toutetsu has bled her heart out for your suffering, and so have we," First Convoker recites with exaggerated emotion and inflection, "But that all ends here. Today, we are here to end these sorrows by our own hand, erm, claw. We will liberate you from the curse the evil sage has placed on you and return you to the Animal Realm, to Lady Toutetsu's company!"

Ran is still confused. It's genuinely lucky that the standard language among the eagles has evolved to become unrecognizable to these learned ancients. "Sorry, what is she saying? I'm trying my best but I really can't understand a word... Toutetsu?"

"Ah, uh, yes! We are an envoy sent by Lady Toutetsu herself, whose blessings we hereby relay, ... to..." I reply in vulpine. I figure she might be more reticent about tearing us apart if we can tie our name to someone as powerful as Toutetsu. Furthermore, speaking her own language must be able to impress her and make it all look sincere.

"Really," Ran puts a hand up to her cheek, "Go on?"

Just as I make a gain on this front there's a massive setback on another... the eagles, in formation, have charged up their bulleters... "This will be a battle fought not just for your freedom, but for the liberation of all animals, all those enslaved as shikigami by the evil sage, all those suffering similar injustices elsewhere," First Convoker continues, "And of course, for the insatiable hunger of Lady Toutetsu herself!"

Blood nearly evacuates my face at this point. But I have to try everything I've got. "To... Present a gift! Yes! Uh, don't mind those eagles. It's just that we take this very seriously and have to present the gift with the appropriate salute."

"Ooh, that's so sweet!" she smiles, "It's really nice to—"

"ATTACK!" First Convoker screeches. The eagles roar out 'ten thousand years' as their bulleters begin buzzing. A mass of white discs burning with red flames assemble behind Scapegoat, evidently now a stand-in for Toutetsu, and sweep forth in an arc. They're jumping straight to a non-spell... A couple of eagles, glowing brightly and polychromatically, begin accelerating at Ran.

It's over... I grip my antlers in despair. My legs buckle and give out, I fall to my knees as a bullet soars over my head the next moment.

Really, the moment they mentioned a fox I already guessed this would happen. The eagles preached regularly about the "great tragedy of Lady Toutetsu's old fox friend", this was known to anyone who listened in on Gouyoku broadcasts even once. First-somethings had been agitating for a 'push through the gaps', and a total mobilization to that end. There were festivals where eagles flagellated, branded, and cut themselves to symbolize an exorcism of the 'enthralled fox' that would come. This was all they knew of other worlds for ages, why wouldn't they act on all of it? It explained everything, why they were so fast and desperate for the world-travelling gear, but as always, by the time such knowledge is attained, it's already too late...

To think of it... the eagles have such grand expectations of the worlds beyond, yet all that anticipation prevents them from actually getting anything out of them, they're here entirely to act out what they themselves wanted. Ran looked very kind, hardly under any kind of malevolent influence as far as we knew. She even acknowledged Toutetsu pleasantly! Given the nature of the otherworlds I think it has all just been a great mistake. And now it comes to such a farcical culmination! With these futile thoughts I muster the courage to look up at the rain of bullets...

... Ran spins past all of them, and the eagles all slam into the rocks and foliage behind the shack. With the next blink of the eye she is standing right over the goat, in the middle of the eagles' formation.

First Convoker scowls and puts a hand up to her face. The eagles pause their barrage. I use the chance to get up and run up to them.

"That's a very impressive display! Toutetsu is great to have you as followers," Ran smiles.

"There's no way you're going to beat her," I whisper to First Convoker.

"No shit," she spits back, "I'm not taking this fight. We have to improvise a way out of this."

"Well, as I was trying..." I sigh.

"Your vulpine has an obnoxious accent," she says, "I'll handle this."

So she also knows the language... I'm even less eager to learn what the Gouyoku classics program is like.

At First Convoker's signalling all of the eagles lower their bulleters and politely bow at Ran. Scapegoat wears a very uncomfortable expression, face stiff and eyes glancing around, with Ran looming over her. Based off the numbers cited in Kiketsu television programs making fun of Toutetsu's height combined with my own visual estimations, this substitute Toutetsu is somehow even shorter than the real one, which must play a great role in her discomfort here.

"Yes, Ms. Ran, that is the gift we are presenting to you," First Convoker's voice is remarkably more subdued and even obsequious this time — those are definitely not characteristics of the vulpine language itself, "The Gouyoku Alliance's latest achievement in consumer household electronics: a customized shikigami pet built to resemble Lady Toutetsu, so you'll never again be sad over not having her by your side!" She then switches over to aquiline to taunt Scapegoat herself, "Well, as I promised, looks like you are becoming a First-something!"

"Hey what is the meaning of this?" Scapegoat bares her teeth.

"Wow, technology really develops fast over there... and it really acts like her too!" Ran pets the goat by the latter's black hair, "It's so adorable! Well, I'm not sure about it filling in for the real deal, but the Yakumo household could certainly use another helper. But please relay my gratitude to Toutetsu."

[ ] Ask for something in exchange
[ ] Get back to the Animal Realm
[ ] Go somewhere else [specify location]

[X] Ask for something in exchange (4/6)

"... would you all like to hang around for some tea?" Ran asks.

"Well, since there's so many of us, we won't burden you with all that!" First Convoker puts up and waves her hands, sweat drenching her back, "But we understand you must, erm, may have items of your own waiting for dispatch to Lady Toutetsu, in which case we are bound by duty to receive them. You can trust us with them!" She pats her chest, slanting her face —and gaze — away to strike a charismatic pose.

For a moment I thought she learnt her lesson, and was hurrying for a way to get out of here. Perhaps she is even more fearful than I am that Ran knows what we were up to all along, for good reason. But I then chewed over the words again, and figured something just didn't sound right. Even in such a situation, even forced into such an expression for an eagle, she's still trying to get something out of this, to strike a deal!

"Well, it's sure really rare for Toutetsu to send something over like this..." Ran strokes her chin, "I've been completely caught off-guard, to be honest with you. It's nice to give something back, but I don't really know what could repay the favor..."

"Hey, you're supposed to be a walking supercomputer!" Scapegoat says angrily, "I had to read all the lorebooks to even know this! Wait, no. ... Just turn down the gift and give me back! I'm not getting myself stranded here!"

"Don't worry, miss," First Convoker rubs her hands as she slides up close, braving having her face being brushed by Ran's nine gigantic tails, "Lady Toutetsu in her infinite digestive capacity has anticipated this too. She'll be fine, erm, delighted with anything."

"I'm a fake Toutetsu, I know, but I would like everyone to know I am not fine with this!" Scapegoat shouts, gnashing her teeth.

"Wow, she's really impatient, just like her prototype," Ran says as she pets the goat again, "Well, it's about lunchtime anyway. But I do want to send something back, so please bear with me and stick around. If I can feed her, I can feed all of you. I'll also figure it out while all that happens. I'm quite sure of my reckoning on that..." She picks up Scapegoat and hugs the latter deeply, tickling with her tails. The other eagles put their wings up to their nostrils to hide... something.

The Ran that is so sure of her reckoning on these things now goes on to spend what we would see as an inordinate amount of time with the 'Toutetsu shikigami'. Scapegoat's feeble attempts to resist with her short arms and legs capitulate soon after a veritable immersion into Ran's tail fur, she emerges in an utterly ecstatic and ethereal state and is then swallowed up by the tails again. They roll across the field doing this. Drops of tears and nose blood rain on the grass below the eagles' claws.

We could see in the playing something excavated from deep in the past, but none of us dare to get up close to ascertain anything about Ran. Maybe she really did take Scapegoat for Toutetsu and was indulging in... something, maybe Scapegoat herself was just so cuddlable with her size and horns. Furthermore neither me nor First Convoker evidently learned anything about vulpine expressions of emotion from the classics, or the totally ancient tongue Ran was speaking to the goat, who looked like she understood as little of it as we did.

A Ran that remembered Toutetsu so much and so fondly, or just was this friendly with everyone and everything... She did not require submission to the eagles' force to speak of Toutetsu on good terms, how are they dealing with this? They seem equally lost as Ran is in the scene's wholesome character, if only to escape from these more uncomfortable questions. Naturally I am an entirely neutral and enlightened spectator standing above and beyond the petty concerns and ideologies binding these parties to their situation.

The playing comes to an abrupt halt as Ran stands straight and puts a hand up to her ear. She nods lightly as she listens to something, then turns to us. "Oh my, we're having guests from Hakugyokurou over today... this complicates things."

Now this name I actually skimmed over once or twice in the comic books... Yes, when the Kiketsu were enacting their grand operation with the world-travelling technology for the first time, they put all the coverage onto the shrine maiden — which the Gouyoku had been controlling — while they themselves actually got only a certain gardener from this Hakugyokurou...

"That gardener must be much more powerful, that's why they covered it up," I and First Convoker think out loud at the same time, "And that's why Ran's getting so concerned that everything has to be reorganized..." Our eyes jump onto each other.

"You're not actually just a merchant, are you?" she gives an unnerving stare.

I whistle and calmly turn my head away back to Ran, whose own head lifts instantly out of deep contemplation.

"Crunched the numbers," the fox reports with a serious look, "We will need to be preparing a lot more food for the occasion, which I can manage by myself, but that will leave one task short of manpower..."

"No worries, Ms. Ran," First Convoker steps up, "We'll do it. All fifty of us. Lady Toutetsu's will is our will and a friend of Lady Toutetsu's will is also our will. Just give us the order!"

The avian-form eagles are now lined up neatly again and raise their beaks together to show their readiness. I slide to the side of the first row.

"That's very nice of you! I can't thank you enough, again," Ran smiles, "That many would really be good to..."

[ ] Procure the food
[ ] Set up the tables
[ ] Welcome the guests

[X] Procure the food (4/5)

"Yes. I have a full menu ready in mind, so you don't need to worry about that. It will just be the ingredients."

There's humming akin to that of a printer, then Ran produces from her sleeves a scroll and hands it to the eagles. It unfurls onto the grass, and we find out it's a whole shopping list. I wipe sweat off my head but the eagles seem entirely unfazed and even confident as they rush to comb through the text, huddling together to squeeze themselves in front to have a look even if only to catch a mere glimpse.

"That should be everything. These quantities would exhaust all that the human village has to offer and we can't just let them starve, so I've also listed some locations you can acquire the products at. I've never tried shopping in those places before, but with a team like this you sure could manage it... I have full faith in Toutetsu! Well, again I'm sorry I'm throwing you into this so fast, but your help is appreciated greatly! See you soon," Ran disappears into the shack.

"No! Help! ... Damn you, putrid poultry! I'll never forget this betrayal!" Scapegoat shouts as she is whisked into the shack.

"Ha! This can't be any more familiar to us," First Convoker says, reading through the list, "A quarter of all effort expended in the Gouyoku Alliance is dedicated to feeding Lady Toutetsu, we measure our economic output in the quantity of food that is delivered to her table." The rest of the eagles cheer and flap their wings as if impatient to set out. "And it seems Ms. Ran is just as reverent of Lady Toutetsu here, to present offerings in such magnificent quantity."

True, the Gouyoku Alliance takes over places solely to sample their exotic cuisine and establish a supply chain to deliver the entire authentic experience to Yuuma. That's if the conquest is lucky and respected — has anything tasteful to offer at all, most of the time they just turn the place into farmland and pastures, build food processing plants, and retrain the human spirits into workers and the beast spirits into cooks.

I shudder at the possibility all that could happen to the places we are going to visit. These forty-eight might not accomplish any of that right here, but to attract the Gouyoku's attention made it a matter of time. World-travelling technology being experimental is a temporary situation, beasts' — our — endless hunger is eternal. Once it comes to it, otters would make slimy deals and wolves would have a big fight, but it is the eagle, perhaps in this moment more of a vulture, that will strip your flesh down to the bone, then wash it down with the marrow...

You can see it in their gazes, the pupil shrunken down to a dot, like how distant light and hope becomes at the bottom of a pit!

Let's just go back to the more practical and less disturbing considerations. Ran didn't leave us with anything else. That's curious considering what we've been told about the primitive exchange systems of those above...

"Wait, what do we exchange the goods with?" I raise my hoof and ask, "If these locals have, erm, their own economic system, we sure weren't given anything. Have all these places achieved councilism too?"

"Interesting point. That would be a very exciting development, and a welcome one, if we can just talk our way into getting the goods..."

That is way too good to be true. Well, sure, Ran has proved herself more pleasant than the propaganda claimed to be, but this entire place? And now that the eagles are actually being enthusiastic over that prospect one can only doubt it...

"Well, whatever it is, time is of the essence," she puts on the world-travelling gear's headset "We better get going too. Where do we start?"

[ ] A huge asparagus and eggplant from a certain location in Hell
> Just two items and a place close to the Animal Realm... seems simple enough.
> Note on the shopping list says: Our guest has been wanting to sample this for some time. It is possible the other items can be acquired outside of their recommended locations but these two are unique.
[ ] 1 tonne of seafood from the Sanzu River
> That's a lot to handle but it's still somewhere we know what to expect from.
[ ] 200 units of mochi and misc. herbs from the Moon
> No idea what that place is. But hey, it's just mochi, nothing could go wrong right?

[X] Giant asparagus bamboo shoot and eggplant (3/4)
Autocorrect provided by MELAMPUS

We typed in the coordinates on our gear's interface, and with a heavy gulp everyone pressed down the button at once. The slow disorienting buildup from first time we used the blink packs did not occur this time. With a 'bop' sound, we simply slipped into our destination.

Which was a barren wasteland decorated with simian skulls. How the hell do you gather ingredients here? I shovel the tough, rocky earth with my hooves, and there seems to be little to scavenge, if any at all. At least the wind is breezy and warm.

The eagles are quick to stop asking questions and start obeying First Convoker's orders, immediately taking flight to get a top-down view of the area. They sortie around and ahead of the main party in circles, reporting back every few seconds, the vast majority of the information being the number of skulls on the ground they could count. Following us on foot an adjutant eagle puts up a mirage graphing the density of the skulls around us from the reports. Eventually they spot something else.

Two bipeds in the shape the matriarchs take on were embracing each other. One had a flower over her head and face and long black hair flowing down from under it, wearing a form-fitting purple gown. The other had two short yellow horns decorated with red ribbons growing out of her head, and wore a green shirt with a yellow trim. The images the eagles relayed back allowed you to discern the blushing on their faces as they stared into each other's eyes, but from the safe spot I managed to drag myself to, it was just splotches of colors, at best reminiscent of...

Well, that explains it. 'Giant eggplant and giant bamboo shoot'. This is not a particularly surprising thing in itself: in everyday duties, target acquisition tends to make the silliest conclusions from the blurriest imagery one can collect. In one incident some time ago, bubble bullets stacked up in a Kiketsu ammunition cache were reported as a stash of shika-senbei, and an excited strike team plowed their way through otters ten times their number to get to it...

"Okay, this is kind of tough. How are you supposed to serve those two at that banquet?" I say.

"Say, you ever played the award-winning visual novel Synthwave Gensokyo?" First Convoker dodges the question and substitutes her own.

"Nope, those things are rationed especially tight. Hey why are you stripping me?" In mere seconds I've been relieved of all my gear, all handed over in pieces to other eagles.

"I thought not. Anyway, you've done this at least twice already, go in, talk to them. We just need them at the banquet, it will be up to Lady Ran to process them."

First Convoker kicks me over, and I fall to stand on all fours, out of the cover of the dune we had gathered behind.

The trudging on the rock as I slip along immediately alerts the two figures. The one in the green shirt spins toward me in an instant, puts her hand up in the air, and snaps. I glance around and above nervously.

"Come out!" She shouts, "Line up, behind that deer. If you don't want to get skewered!"

Then a whistle passes above me. Blue streaks cross the sky. The eagles scurry out from behind the dune raising their wings. The streaks rain down on where we had been hiding, and the resulting blasts sends shockwaves that palpably beat against our faces.

"Ah, greetings great teacher Zanmu," First Convoker says unctuously, "Salutations from the Gouyoku Alliance..."

"Toutetsu's goons? You better have a good reason for barging in at a time like this. ... How did you even get here?"

I had heard of Zanmu's name before and knew vaguely that she had an appearance like this, but I couldn't believe she is right there in front of us like this. So then the other one must be Hisami. Alright, but that just opens up even more questions. What were they doing together in an empty place like this? And why did Ran need them as an ingredient? The mysteries just keep piling up.

There is little of the composed, sagely demeanor expected of the great oni-monk in whose fingers all Hells and even all Heavens dance as mere puppets. She looks impatient, as if interrupted of something important and serious, disdainfully gazing down at us with a lifted chin, fangs scraping and honing behind her retracting lips. We are clearly frivolities she couldn't wait to dispense with. But perhaps she thought that impossible and was getting tangled up with how this situation even came in the first place.

How did we get here indeed. Zanmu squints at us again and sniffs, her expression turning apprehensive. Then she yawns and makes a couple of stretches with her back. Behind her, Hisami is turning her face away from us and under the giant petals covering her head.

"You really didn't play Synthwave Gensokyo?" First Convoker whispers to me.

"Creatures too into visual novels aren't my type, sorry—" I blurt.

"Your Nothingness," First Convoker pushes me forward again and continues her honeyed address, "We present to you a gift. An extraordinarily brilliant deer worthy of a Moriya Shrine preserve. With this we would like to extend to you an invitation to a banquet."

So now it's my turn to get betrayed! I should have known better and earlier...

Zanmu's eyes light up. Her expression completely shifts into that of wondrous astonishment.

"Well, well, this is concerning. Perhaps now you eagles know me better than I do you!" Despite the words, Zanmu's real feelings at all this are betrayed by the upturning of the corners of her lips. "I was just happening to despair for something to repay Kicchou for... something with. Or perhaps you are wise enough to simply fly into my own hands!" She chuckles.

I finish deducing what Zanmu would do with me — send me off to, and freeze exactly on the midpoint between the eagles and her. That's somehow more horrifying than just being kept around as her pet, which in itself was a possibility albeit nothing could be known of it. But being served to Kicchou on a platter like this?

What am I going to do? There's only the empty wastes around us to meditate on.

"Mistress, it looks dumb to the point of being cute!" Hisami points at me.

Getting double-crossed at a whim to serve the personal survival of an eagle-spirit. Getting mailed off as a gift as part of mere chores of a Hell powerbroker. And soon, getting...

Well, what is going to happen anyway?

So much goes on behind every moment that arrives one after another without a break. It's not like I'm standing in the middle of a road this time, another change of fate will surely render all this irrelevant.

Nothing ever happens. I decide to accept my fate and lift my legs to trod forward. A part of me is liberated for that act, yet another abruptly arrested precisely to allow it...

"Man, what about the original mission, what about Chou Kou... maybe that'll come into play next for some entirely unforseeable reason too..." I mumble—

BZZZZZT—

Ouch! A tightening and swelling triggers in my muscles and fix me in place. A golden glow surrounds me: my goast is powering up. Yet it's something I've never seen before. The nebulous goast coagulates and hardens into the likeness of a haniwa horse, which encases me, leaving only my antlers poking out.

As the clay covers my eyes, my mind is taken into some kind of microcosmic pocket space, and a monotonic voice blares from all around.

Subjection of user to unconsented appropriation detected. COMPROMISE of USER RIGHT detected. Secondary compromise of user conations through ideological mechanisms detected. OVERRIDING USER IDEOLOGY. Deploying haniwa form and entering combat mode...

I suspected something was up with the goasts overperforming in the shootout against the wheel-ghosts, but... well, it ought to have been obvious, wasn't it...

"Hello, broken one."

It's the sculptor-goddess in front of me. Long blue hair flows out of her green headscarf and onto her yellow shirt, locks hanging past three magatama jewels worn on her neck. The texture of all these items are hyperreal: the strands on the fabric are live like hairs, yet the hair is like spreading dye. ... Yeah, she looks kind of like several desktop wallpapers joined together. Her face, however, is obscured with a disc of white light.

"You failed to act in your best interests, for your own sake. —Don't worry! It's no fault of your own; you are all equally pitiable."

I nervously pace around and stomp my hooves at the image, which sends massive ripples through the dark virtual space around me.

The voice matches the image's serenity and sageliness, if a bit soft and high-pitched for a goddess, but the vocabulary is very clearly a sarcastic inversion of it. The echoes merge with my own breathing.

"That's why She descends for your sake."

Two loud taps travel through the space as a whole matriarch-type-bipedal-figure forms before me, below the likeness of Haniyasushin. I let out a sigh of relief. Figures that I'm not important enough to be personally spoken to by the sculptor-goddess let alone in such a tone.

Then I notice that the figure stays only an opaque black silhouette. I can make out heeled boots, a skirt, long hair, and... horse ears?

"It is usually said that faith from souls power shells like this, but... being able to bend to such petty impositions and oppressions, do you — in the plural I mean — even have one? I think Her Holiness should be given more credit than she likes to claim!"

Indoctrination rushes to its own defense. The horses were one of the races closely associated with those who became the majority of the idolaters, famously celebrated as racers. Thus they were rewarded with the rider haniwa. That's why there's no horse-spirits anymore, with the single rule-proving exception of the Keiga leader, who questionably qualifies as one. All of this matches up with what's displayed here.

"You're a horse-spirit?" I ask.

"No, I'm the naturally intelligent pilot-assistance system." But the costume is exactly like that of the racers from antiquity. I make up my mind but only on the unimportant and non-decisive things.

"Uh-huh. I feel like you can be a bit more... assisting on that front," I mumble. Why did I turn into a clay horse anyway?

"Pardon?"

"—I mean, what are Her Holiness's orders here?" I straighten myself and stand at attention.

"You're really a natural slave," she sneers and puts her hands on her waist, "How about looking at what YOU need to do for YOURSELF right here? As I said at the start, it's because YOU failed to act for yourself, to even think about preventing yourself from suffering the fate of being served onto Kicchou's table, that this haniwa has been activated to ensoul a being as pathetic as you."

So that was what the new goast was doing... but how?

The image of Haniyasushin is replaced by three panels, one of the haniwa's specs and data, one of a tactical map, and one of a first-person view. The chiding and questioning is thrown past my head as I try to process the immense volume of new information. There's no use figuring out why if we don't get out of this trouble we (sort of) started ourselves!

"Wow, this deer can even turn into a haniwa, that's amazing!" The excited though muffled voice of an eagle-spirit comes through, "You can see, Lady Zanmu, this is a real deal we are offering you!"

"Yeah, for sure, but we should be a bit more careful with it," Zanmu steps back, looking apprehensive.

"Lay your eyes upon these enemies of YOURS," the horse-girl says seriously, "Those who seek to dispossess you, subject you to wanton torment, erase you from consideration in all matters." Downward-pointing red triangles drop on the outlined silhouettes of Zanmu and the eagles on the first-person view, and identification tooltips pop out.

"That's..." I shudder. How am I going to fight three bipeds in any situation, let alone two of great repute and power?

"So what if you have to take out some king of nothingness — certainly that name alone shall encourage you in this fight — to defend your own right?" She crosses her arms.

"I— I'm, um, confused." I say that clumsily, but what plays out on the screen is something different entirely. Simply thinking about the highlighted figures as the horse-spirit lectured me, the mere thought of annihilating them as intensely as she demanded would come from myself. And the entire system catches onto that. Crosshairs land on the highlights, and the display for the haniwa's components begins flashing at various spots as lines reporting the arming of various weapons pass over the screen.

"Why's it lighting up?" A eagle says nervously.

"As I calculated..." Zanmu takes another five steps back, "Take cover, you all!"

"Mistress, do you need the spears?" Hisami asks.

"No, that would most likely destroy the deer. Surely it's a feature. We'll look out for what it does but we also have to be cautious in doing so."

Numbers begin enlarging and flashing on the other screens, and several notification lines pass by.

> Spell card NOT detected.
"Don't worry about that," says the horse, "Not like that'll ever happen for mooks like us..."
> Shot type: 24 arrow bullets in 2 volleys along slingshotting-trajectories.
"Basically the arrows move back a bit before running forward."
> 8 shots ready.
> Instruction to user: allocate shots among targets.
> Enter number for each target.
[ ] High-value target NIPPAKU ZANMU
[ ] High-value target YOMOTSU HISAMI
[ ] Medium-value target UNIDENTIFIED ANTHROMORPHIC EAGLE SPIRIT
[ ] Group target EAGLE SPIRIT FORMATION
[ ] Over-the-horizon group target ONI SPEAR-THROWER FORMATION
[ ] Write-in

"... woah," I stare stupefied.

> Attached human spirits detected.

"Right, you got a portable oracle," the horse says, "We're fighting here for all humankind, plus they might know better than you — no hard feelings just a scientific description of the situation — so let's leave the firing solution up to them..."

> Notice for users: different shot allocations by each participant in conciliar target assignment will be AVERAGED to create the final firing solution.

Zanmu: (4 + 3 + 3 + 2) / 4 = 3
Hisami: (4 + 2 + 2 + 4) / 4 = 3
First Convoker: (0 + 0 + 0 + 2) / 4 = 0.5
Eagles: (0 + 3 + 3 + 0) / 4 = 1.5
Non-whole shot allocations are rounded up in order of greater raw average until spare shots have been exhausted at which point the rest will be rounded down. Therefore eagles rounds up to 2 and First Convoker rounds down to 0

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UOapsZppgxI

The haniwa horse possesses four hardpoints: two large ones fitted with the long-range bulleters used for the spell card shots, and two smaller ones whose weapons fire less impressive bursts of smaller-caliber munitions for close-range self-defense. As for the horse itself, the sudden transformation has somehow doubled our goast's volume, easily towering over even the uncannily slender Hisami. The munitions load was in excess of anything I thought I had carried with myself. I am not privy to the workings of haniwa, but if this really is what their basic units have access to, it would explain so much...

The charge-up of the 'horse-bows', as most animals call them, has a very distinct sound resembling some sort of creaking and straining from tension, giving them that name. That precedes the even more violent 'twang' of the actual shot, fiercer than what a biwa-turned-tsukumogami could produce (what are those you ask? I only know they're beings from above so anything tied to them has to be terrifying).

This triggers an instinctive reaction from Zanmu and the eagle-spirits who no doubt had much experience against them in much less amicable contexts. They had already covered themselves behind boulders and dunes... but that wasn't going to help much against indirect fire. The eagles scurry to scatter while charging their own bulleters.

"Now get ready for the firing run — and that's the best part!" The horse-spirit in the pilot-space says as she pumps a fist. "The comrades up above have designated who to shoot, and of that we have to be judicious about our shots. But to each her [moral] desert, or dessert; we won't let anyone who have wronged us go so easily."

Preparing herself for a sprint, the horse stretches and pulls her whole body back and forward as if drawing a bow. Tension shows itself in the angles between the shoulders, elbows, knees, and everything. Then she looses herself in the manner of an arrow, hands chopping forward, slicing into the air itself, which she visibly indents as lines build up in front of her.

The haniwa, however, does not have articulated legs with which to gallop. Instead, the horse slides over terrain on four wheels, and after a couple of turns to orient ourselves we rapidly kick off into full throttle. The haniwa's 'firing run', as the horse indicated, is going full speed in an effort to run over First Convoker, who we couldn't spare a full barrage for.

"What? Why me?!" She screams and begins dashing for her life.

As the chase begins so too are the shots fired — two yellow streaks cut into the sky, which scatter into sprinkles of individual yellow flashes, which rain back down with a swift 'zip' to the ears akin to the howls of harsh wind. The individual arrows aren't guided and are commanded more by gravity, but according to the giant screens before us, the airbursts have been placed with some care by the firing solution to create large kill zones around the target, maximizing the hit probability or at the very least creating a troublesome situation they have to dodge through.

"This really is the worst-case scenario. Spear-throwers, nail that thing!" Zanmu shouts from behind a dune.

"Mistress, get down!" Hisami jumps and tackles her down.

As the haniwa skids ahead, more shots are loosed. Three of the volleys successively burst over Zanmu and Hisami, as designated. We hear hysteric screaming as they tightly hold on to each other and roll around along the lengths of their bodies to avoid the rain of bullet-arrows.

One pours down over a bunch of eagles, but being significantly less nimble they are thrown into equal panic. They activate the swoop-mode on their goasts for the sake of the speed boost, and dash past each other, grazing and almost colliding mid-air, but at least they quickly get out of harm's way.

"Hisami, —ow, the shots are tracking us — ouch," Zanmu analyzes in the middle of the two alternately crushing each other with their own weight, against the ground formed from skulls, "This isn't working, we have to split up — ow, ugh sorry about that."

"Huh? But— eek!" Hisami, on top, plunges her face down just as an arrow explodes just ahead of them.

"That's the last one — oof — there's going to be a pause n— ow, be quick!" Zanmu grunts, pushes Hisami aside, and quickly dog-crawls away.

"Yeah, take that!" The horse taunts, still sprinting furiously in place as we chased down First Convoker.

The next volley of arrows is still bound for Zanmu, but now on her legs she is considerably more maneuverable. As expected of such a famous and powerful oni, she precisely locates the individual arrows whistling down toward her and adjusts her motions to skirt past. She takes a stride forward to barely outrun one of the arrows, but this sends her tumbling as she trips over a skull in the ground. But she impressively balances herself on her hands. She then sandwalks on her hands, swaying herself just out of the blasts of several more arrows. The arrows had been dispersed exactly to catch targets according to the rhythm of their steps, yet with this she had avoided even a scratch just at the expense of her own image. A bad landing made as she tries to cartwheel herself back onto her feet makes no difference as she simply hops on one foot past more arrows.

Hisami, however, is less fortunate. She had two more volleys to go, and her lanky build plus toppling gait did not work in favor of the same acrobatic motions. Things did not bode well for her, but by the time the volleys began raining down, we had speeded out of distance to see what would happen to her. Rather, however, Zanmu's voice got clearer than ever. On the map, two red triangles met as countless others scurried around...

"If this is Yuuma's idea of an assassination attempt, well, I sure have to respect her creativity," Zanmu grabs First Convoker's collars as the two tumble together, but speaks calmly as if merely discussing scripture.

"No, I assure you, great master, that..." The eagle-spirit reaches for words.

"Well, there's clearly no point taking it out on you," the monk calms down and retreats herself, "Where are those spears anyway..."

"Yeah, exactly, where are they?" I think out loud.

"Hah, got you right there," Zanmu chuckles smugly, taking a sip of some beverage out of a skull-cup she had slung on her, and snaps her hand in the air.

I look above to be greeted with the sight of dozens of cyan-glowing streaks plunging down.

"Hey, how come we didn't see that coming?" I ask the horse.

"It's still your fight, it's on you to pay attention to these things," she replies curtly.

Zanmu, meanwhile, has turned the screaming and grovelling First Convoker into a personal jumpjet of sorts, forcing the latter to fly with her goast-wings and holding on to her heels. All to lure us toward her — we are too fast to correct course.

"Up, now!" She orders, "Yes, the spears are very dangerous. But either you turn into yakitori up here or torikatsu down there. How's that for a koan?"

"Say no more, great master, we will follow you only!" A tearful and trembling First Convoker activates swoop-mode and takes off.

They zip past a spear, which Zanmu grabs with her bare hands, right as she lets go of the eagle-spirit. She reaches out one hand as she pulls back the other, ready to hurl it forward.

The horse, meanwhile, just began making a turn to catch up with where First Convoker is about to land.

"Oh, no... well, we couldn't get out of her hand in the end..." I bow down my head.

The coaxial bulleters fail to lock on to Zanmu, and she is free to fling the spear right into the side of the haniwa. And she does.

A huge explosion sets off on our left hind leg, sending the haniwa rolling several times before landing, very fortunately, upright.

"Ouch!" The two of us tumble around through the pilot-space, at last throwing the horse out of her sprint. She struggles to get back up, and to stand on one of the legs.

"Well this isn't good, that leg's been totally destroyed..." I say worriedly, looking at the interface wireframe.

"This just takes me back to the old times," the horse, grinning, is not at all discouraged; on the contrary she became even more invigorated.

I piece together everything I read about the horses from the history books. In antiquity there was one of them very famous for soldiering on with a broken leg. "You don't mean... you're...?" But the mannerisms don't look like it...

"Well, what does it matter? The Animal Realm has made monsters of us all... But Lady Haniyasushin has made us anew."

Put into perspective, this was not that unexpected. After all, L, who I reported to, also had a celebrated previous life recorded in the pages of a long-running comic, yet in person he conducted himself in a rather different fashion. Perhaps that was a means to disavowing those identities... But among the organizations at least this was not arcane knowledge, on the contrary everyone found it very encouraging they could fight back-to-back with such legendary characters. So it seems the idolaters are not that much different, even in the good parts; or, well, it could just be the horses that enjoyed those things...

"Let's do this!" She jogs in place, much less vigorous than before, but no less resolved.

... T. T. hasn't been on the track for a year! ... Strange echoes and whispers pervade around us...

The bigger curtain of spears now closes in on us, but the haniwa adjusts to its impairment very quickly. Now it is our turn to turn situational setbacks into advantages. Spinning and turning in place, we fall short of and completely avoid the first volley of spears, which, in an overly cautious Zanmu's strategy, had been set to catch us in case we could still zip on at full speed. We brave the next barrage, but its spears too are spaced out to hit a target at full speed, and slowed down we are instead able to carefully turn past each incoming one.

"Well, that's not the only silver lining," the horse explains, "The bulleters have recharged. And now we have better data on that oni's goons in case we want some counter-battery... sure, it's contingent on making out of this spear-wall, but you always have to try your best no matter what!"

> YOMOTSU HISAMI neutralized.
> 8 shots ready.
[ ] High-value target NIPPAKU ZANMU
[ ] Medium-value target UNIDENTIFIED ANTHROPOMORPHIC EAGLE SPIRIT
[ ] Group target EAGLE SPIRIT FORMATION
[ ] Over-the-horizon group target ONI SPEAR-THROWER FORMATION
[ ] Write-in

Zanmu: (8 + 8 + 8 + 7 + 6 + 5) / 6 = 7
First Convoker: 2 + 1 / 6 = 0.5
Oni: 3 / 6 = 0.5
Breaking tie by number of votes: First Convoker rounds to 1

With one leg out of action, the haniwa grips the terrain flimsily, dragging said leg up and down bumps below and bobbing its entire body about. Meanwhile, as the spears land and root themselves in the ground, a veritable cyan-glowing forest springs up around us.

Even after the spears land and cease to threaten to perforate us, they block our path and box our movements in. And while we look for a way around or out of the maze they form, the next round of spears coming down will be able to catch us with much greater certainty. And to maneuver with a leg-wheel out of action...

Just as I think of that, locks release on the haniwa's legs, which lower and extend outwards as the wheels rotate to send us into a drift. Once the spears ahead land, we skate on ahead unimpeded, making fine turns and grazes past more cyan-glowing beams. The horse has adapted and converted its drive into a three-wheel configuration, and the crippled leg hangs up behind like a massive tail for balance.

"Well, thanks for reminding me. Leg-wheels. Ha. You just can't not respect Lady Keiki for all the ingenuity she pours into us..." The horse wipes her face.

"Why couldn't it do that before?" I ask.

"Sorry, I was just reminded of it! It's just like in the acclaimed classic science-fiction media franchise Spirit in the Haniwa. Speaking of which this is a koma-type model... also just like in Spirit in the Haniwa... 'koma' literally means horse."

A whole wall of spears erects before us. We simply back off as the chassis spins and orients us just right — one leg where we're headed, two behind.

All I gather is that in haniwa-land they have their own kinds of entertainment, also very much utilitarian in mainly priming the audience for combat. But presumably it is free of deep social or philosophical commentary, that I think should be solidly the domain of the animal organizations. How else do they claim to be different from us?

"There's so many features and abilities in this... well, how about another one?"

The horse bows draw with their unnerving creaking noise. On another view, Zanmu makes her way over the bone-laden ground, a highlight tracing her shuffling figure under a hovering red triangle.

"There's another barrage on us. We have bigger concerns than her," I look at the arrows closing in on our dot on the minimap.

The horse wags her finger, but at Zanmu. "Stratagem number 18: to catch bandits, nab their ringleader first—"

And now one comes to the realization that the haniwa do have an indecipherable culture of their very own — the words are very much what you'd expect of something freshly dug out of a grave. Speaking of digging graves...

"But it seems you forgot the line before that..." Zanmu gives a menacing grin, but which fades as she abruptly lowers her face, exhales, and scratches her head, "Which is, uh, something something... ah yes, to shoot the rider, you shoot his horse!" She points at us, her expression smug again.

"Wait, how does she know what I'm saying?" The horse grasps her chin.

"I think she just imagined an opponent of her own, deducing the thought process thereof," I say, "And it just so happens you two reference the same literary tradition." Well, that is a frightening thought, that the clay-folk think and talk more like a man-turned-oni than ordinary animals...

BZZT! The horse-bows loose their arrows. But nearly straight above, where they zip past the spears coming down, both tearing through the sky with sounds that approximate a shriek. Their fierce lights, yellow and blue, weave together.

I'm about to ask 'great job shooting into the air for nothing, now how do we dodge?' but then my eyes move onto the sight of the haniwa spinning its way around the spears as they land after each other. Not just that, the upper body of the horse is apparently stabilized independently against the rotating chassis; the legs below spin to the point of disappearing into a blur while the horse head is held stiffly high, looking in Zanmu's direction.

More twists and turns later and we've managed to break free, outrunning spears as they come down, sharply turning when a few impale themselves right ahead of us. As we make the dash the horse-bows fire off volley after volley, again seemingly just into the incoming waves of spears in futility, though the angle at which they were launched lowered noticeably with each additional one.

"You're deliberately stopping beneath those volleys!" I shout at the horse.

"You'll see why!"

"Not if she nails us first... Droppings, look out!"

Several spears have staked themselves right ahead of us. But they had landed at quite the angle, basically forming a ramp.

"You don't mean..."

The legs of the haniwa spin into position to grip right onto the spears and send us up. "Hold on!" Even we in the pocket-space are thrown back as the haniwa jumps off the ramp.

As we spin through the air we loose another volley of arrows... this time, down?

"Hold on, what?"

And a dense cloud of arrows has gathered over Zanmu, yellow flashes pouring down. The monk looks up, then down at the skulls and ribs poking out of the ground, and at her bare sandalless feet. No way to run out of this one, perhaps.

"See?" The horse puts her hands on her waist, "Time on target — oldest trick in the book."

"So, you've deliberately fired into my spears as they descend so I couldn't see where they were headed..." Zanmu smiles sardonically as she looks to the side, "Actually, I saw it coming all along. Respectable tenacity, yes, but..."

The one volley we fired on the way that didn't join the barrage converging onto Zanmu falls where the latter is looking. It strikes First Convoker from the sky as the latter is gliding in. Presumably she had been expected to swoop in at the last moment to carry Zanmu away, but in any case that has been taken care of.

"You ought to know better than using the same trick twice, your holiness!" I stomp my hooves and laugh.

"... Screw this, I'm off to the Buddha-fields," Zanmu's face, reddened, grimaces and crumples. Then, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, stepping back as the arrows above finally begin their descent.

She takes seat on a rock, crosses her legs, and reaches out her hands, entering a meditative pose. All this portended an immensely powerful move.

"You've fought admirably for your self, against every possibility of it being wronged here," Zanmu lectures, "But the self is nothing in the first place, and not recognizing this, you still fall short of attaining the possibility beyond possibilities here..."

Before anything even happens we are already petrified by her aura. "Droppings! What now?" I and the horse clutch each other.

Looking at the three-dimensional display, a barrage of spears, aimed at Zanmu herself, reveals itself right above our arrows, and scatters down.

"She arranged a volley against herself?!"

All of the arrows miss her, instead arraying themselves around her like candles in a ritual circle.

We, however, are not so lucky. Four spears pierce into the haniwa, and inside the pocket dimension we are tumbled around again.

Under these blows the haniwa doesn't shatter, proving too resilient for that, but a few big chunks of ceramic fly out and burn off in the air. On our side, many of the confused bars displayed on the side have emptied and the numbers next to them are flashing in dark alarming red.

"It appears that the haniwa's power has been exhausted," says the horse-spirit, crossing her arms in front of the panels, "That is as far as Lady Keiki's handicraft will take you. But don't give up — it's up to you to fight for your right... after all, the haniwa is only as powerful as your will toward it!"

A bright light pierces and sweeps into the mind-space, overtaking everything, melting the displays, the anthropomorphic horse, and everything else away.

"Well, that's a whole lot of things to figure out..." I say to myself.

And thus shines forth... the heads of four or five eagles pecking at me, the hazy red sky of this place hanging above them. "Wow, you alright there?" One wearing spectacles asks.

I rub my eyes and get up. There are no traces of ceramic anywhere around, just bones, although my the glow of my goast has dimmed somewhat, and it feels rather sore trying to maneuver it. It all feels like a daydream that I just broke out of... but broken spears are planted everywhere around, where blue and yellow glows are slowly fizzling out. Zanmu is still sitting on a rock just ahead of us.

"That was an incredibly bold if rash initiative you took there... But we Gouyoku can appreciate it!" The bespectacled eagle cheers, "Now we can capture Zanmu and cross one thing off the list—"

"Look out!" Another eagle points his wing and shouts.

We drop ourselves to the ground, seeing eye to eye with the skulls that made up the terrain. Then, we wait, breaths held.

A powerful, rattling-clapping noise breaks out, but... it's just Zanmu's snoring. We peek over and see that her head now droops to the side as a giant snot bubble forms out of her nose, her torso swaying slowly up and down as each snore rises and falls.

She has fallen asleep! Impressive, of course, to do so so quickly in a battlefield and with all that pouring onto her...

"What on Lady Toutetsu's plate... This isn't a trap, isn't it?" First Convoker says as she dives into the same ditch as us. Her goast is pretty badly bruised from what we just hit her with, but she's still able to drag herself along on her feet.

The eagles look at each other and nod. Four glide out from their cover to approach Zanmu. But their blue contrails are cut short when nets woven of vines spring from under a dune and catch all of them.

"None of you will get to lay a wing on her!" A purple-clad figure crawls into view, gets up, and limps over to Zanmu.

Hisami's dress is tattered and shredded, along with the flower on her head, whose petals and veil had been ripped off in the carnage. It seems as if her face would be exposed to us. But as she arrives into position, she casually tears off the lower half of her dress, while a shake of her head covers her face with her long black hair, and slips the giant flower down. The torn half of the dress is wrapped over her head, like a headscarf, as snugly her vines tighten around the eagles. The flower, slowly falling down, is picked up under her legs and quickly fixed back on top, the makeshift headscarf's ends held under it becoming its new petals.

The rear tail of the dress, behind what had been the side-slits, is pulled up front and fastened with vines to create what's effectively a leotard; the vines, used like ropes, constrict the gown around her figure even more tightly than before.

"Alright, let me explain," the shikome leans onto Zanmu, "Lady Zanmu is very alarmed that, first, you people showed up without being detected; and two, this... magical-horse-transformer thing with such destructive power is running around with deer of all things as hosts. As you know, nothing escapes her calculations, so this is a very serious matter, especially with all the damage you are wreaking; she's projected herself off to the safety of a Pure Land thinking this through."

Hisami's speech shifts quickly in tone, from total enthusiastic adoration when discussing Zanmu — she cups her cheeks at those exact sentences — to a threatening malevolence, steepling fingers and grinning with a snarl, concerning anything else. Perhaps the headscarf is meant more to obscure this — her face stretches and contorts from adjustments of her jaw several times as she cycles through her expressions, who knew what's underneath.

"I thought her practice was corrupt?" The eagle wearing glasses asks.

"Vimalakirti taught the perfume-eating boddhisattvas of the superior planes that more benefit will be made where good stands alongside evil than where only bliss exists, as only before great suffering can one hone their compassion. Far from a deficiency in her path, Lady Zanmu walks among us down here only to contemplate existence in its full gory details... And now she's powerful enough to effortlessly traverse those planes above!" Hisami hugs Zanmu, then slips down along the latter's body, resting her head at the latter's toes.

"How do you know all that?"

"Well, how could I let slip any of the stuff Lady Zanmu tells me? Uh... Now Lady Zanmu is a genius, so it should not take her very long. But up there a day is as a thousand years in hells like ours and so to us it will take... some time," Hisami raises one finger on one hand, and all five on another.

"Uh-huh," First Convoker crosses her arms, clearly a skeptic of religion.

"But make no mistake, nothing escapes Lady Zanmu's grasp. It's foolish to think any of you, or us, can outsmart her... She will break out of this meditation at exactly the right moment, to solve the mystery of the giant death haniwa possessing innocent cervines, of course. And for the purposes of that, everything will be predestined to unfold as she plans... that's why, erm, I'm going to take her along with you. That will most definitely prove itself to be part of the plan."

Given predestination of some sort, humans have a something-something work ethic, and this part of Hell has a something-something plan ethic.

The eagles look at each other, then exchange glances, headshakes, shrugs, and nods. "We thank your thoughtfulness in astutely cooperating with our agenda," First Convoker says, "But what about whoever threw the spears?"

"Now that is where you have yet to see Lady Zanmu's full genius," Hisami wags her finger, "Everything plays into her hands, so there's no need for followers of any sort. She simply precisely times and places her movements so spears being thrown by the other oni for fun or hunting fall where she needs them to. We can leave now and everyone will be none the wiser."

"Yeah right," First Convoker whispers to the others, "We are definitely dealing with a complex scheme on part of all the residents here. But the first half of what she says is true, I can be certain about that... naturally, it'll be the reason they care at all with this farce."

"But we're bringing them over as... ingredients?" An eagle on the side says.

"Only at the table. If those other two items on the list are anywhere as misleading as this one, we might as well bring them along..."

> YOMOTSU HISAMI has joined the party
> NIPPAKU ZANMU [Meditative Mode] has joined the party

Carrying a still-asleep Zanmu on her shoulders, Hisami takes us past several hills and to cliffside cave. After descending stairs we arrive at large platform where a giant green orb with purple ornaments is housed. This space is big enough for an army.

Hisami slaps the sphere, which glows at her aggression. "In case you ever doubted our hospitality here, this is a giant 'teleportation trap' as we are famous for, this model also known as a 'Chronosphere'. Anyway, you all will definitely need this. Not only can we transport more than what you have of your own blink pack thingamajigs, a network of these which have been installed with Gouyoku partners will allow you to access reinforcements and supplies as needed!" She winks at First Convoker.

"The Alliance has these — no, others in the Alliance have these?" The eagle puts a hand up her chin, nodding.

"Yes, it's really great how your organization is structured and does things, really expedites business," Hisami rubs her hands together, "Now, where to?"

[ ] The Moon
> Whispering human spirit: Break the yoke of bondage among beasts...
[ ] Sanzu River
> Whispering human spirit: ... or impose it anew upon men

"With all due respect, First Convoker, we are running into mission creep," another eagle-spirit speaks up. His glowing goast sheathes pale plumage and a burly figure.

Earlier, at all that Hisami had revealed and shown us, First Convoker began looking apprehensive and cautiously calculating all that she was taking in, her eyes spinning at all the flashy equipment on display and hands rubbing to match the movement of their parts, teeth scraping and gripping at her lips — surely not used to that feature as an avian by birth. At this figure's voice, though, she changes face immediately back to an insincere smile befitting an official portrait.

"This task force had been organized to recover the stolen aircraft and investigate the otters' intents with it," the white eagle continues.

"That first objective is complete, and we remain on-track with the second one, 808," First Convoker replies, back straightened up against everyone standing behind her. "We are in the middle of, well, figuring out the otters' cargo..."

"Hm, it's just a situation-constructor, like they said," one of the grunts mumbles. First Convoker lightly nudges her chin in my direction as 808 glances at me, and after a pause nods.

"Yes, can't have that ending up in the wrong hands. Rare to start on the same footing as Zanmu with regards to something," 808 clears his throat, taking a bit too long to move his gaze off me.

"... that's more on you mukhabarat," First Convoker says with jumping eyebrows — less annoyedly than being quick to cover something up.

"Oh, yes, pardon our clumsiness," 808 coughs and fixes his tunic suit's collars, "So far we narrowly avoided annihilation in a fight of Lady Toutetsu's we were way too premature to start, somehow apprehended that supposed mastermind in all hells, are now heading toward the Sanzu where the realms meet, and will be going to the Moon if we are to... serve that banquet. And who knows what will happen there and then. It's not just the risks of tangling with these beings — the objectives and tasks to perform are getting entirely out of hand here."

"It's just unreal to be called up for militia duty one day and find yourself fighting aliens, you know?" Another eagle says on the side, in fact he's right next to me. It's the one wearing glasses — with shaded lenses to be exact — who greeted me when I got up from after the fight. I couldn't help but notice his wings were a lot shorter and fatter than the others.

I recall how I started the day, dodging traffic then being drafted on the spot and shoved into this role impromptu by L, then taken in by the otters and now by the eagles, all while hopping worlds and meeting all the big names from other worlds that every piece of media has prepared animals here for an end-of-times encounter with. How long has it been now? Is L still even keeping track of this?

The eagles, similarly, are scratching their heads trying to figure out what they are going through; no doubt they were pulled from their workdesks similarly abruptly, expecting to quickly rob the otters for their wares, only to meet and fight some of the most terrifying names known to the Animal Realm in short succession. And come out of it.

"When are we going back? There's a potluck this weekend, I can't miss it," says one.

"I was in the middle of drawing another comic of Lady Toutetsu and Ran when I got dragged out from my studio," says another, "Guess I got more than I wished for..."

Staying on task seems naturally impossible in the Animal Realm. The inconstancy implied by the strong-devouring-weak principle manifests in what's really a much more comical and perhaps family-friendly manner, but making no less mockery of its subjects. The only thing that comes out of it intact, or rather the only thing that would be formed by such experiences, is a bare minimum of a self, defended instinctively and most desperately against the flux of everything else. We can never expect settling into any station, identity, or character, instead finding our real drives in their constant destruction and reconstitution around and under us.

That this takes the form of having daily militia rotations uncover world-threatening plots and conquer whole alternate dimensions, with no particular preparation (that being everyone is equipped for it in the same manner) and especially through whimsical changes of plans (if there were any), is a defining accomplishment of Animal civilization. Or perhaps just the environment in which such a phenomenology naturally arises. (The former phrasing according to the manual is retrogressive but more appealing to human spirits.)

Well then, why do we even need to explain this? It's all for your benefit. It's all just technical work to keep the Portable Workers' and Soldiers' Counsel in working condition. But then you get to decide, and we go along as we will anything else; reflection is for humans.

"Of the suitability of this convocation, everyone is not just prepared for redeployment into wholly unfamiliar roles as part of the balanced jobs complex, but also for the tasks themselves to change radically," First Convoker replies confidently, looking at the rest of the eagles.

"Their ability is not in doubt, yes, we did arrange specifically for that. Given the risks of underhanded business with the otters," 808 winks at First Convoker, "We handpicked the most experienced from the most reliable nests nearby, many having flown with Lady Toutetsu and others."

"I haven't done that, but I have fought griffins," the bespectacled eagle says, "And to the point of destroying whole cities. 'Battle is the best spice of life', per Lady Toutetsu."

"Well, as for their willingness, what good Gouyoku member could turn down a chance to be the first at any of that which is being offered? Only a loser expects a shift where nothing happens," First Convoker grins as the others nod.

"First Convoker, you got your first title when the danmaku fight commentator incited you among others beneath the pyramids to storm the local Party office and 'seize power'," 808 continues, sounding threatening, "You are predisposed from experience to believe circumstances always turn out in your favor, whatever happens."

"And?" First Convoker replies after a pause, crossing her arms, wings folding in conjunction, "Is that not gouyoku in acton?"

"That is a contextualizing analysis of your leadership here," 808 steeples his wingtips together. "Structural factors, overdeterminants... All of which will be recounted thousandfold, mechanically by those masses you think you're rising above, after all this, whatever happens. It is gouyoku in action... but so can be anything else. Just know that should anything go wrong, others will take it for granted just as much as you do with your successes up to now."

She pouts and lets out a 'hmph'.

"Nothing personal, just helps to have a bird's eye view of things," 808 clears his throat again, "But be assured for the task itself our interests are entirely convergent."

"Wow, the power seizures, that really takes us back," the bespectacled eagle says and removes his shades briefly, eyes tearing up from presumably nostalgia. My eye looking at him twitches. Yellow feathers, a much weaker ridge above his eyes — this is a chicken! And there's definitely a comb underneath that cap, and wattles underneath the face-bandana hanging on a shorter beak than the others. But his goast glows purple-blue like everyone else — good on him, alright. Between this guy and the impostor-Toutetsu on First Convoker's side one wonders about the undercurrents of Gouyoku politics that have washed them all together up here, what could bring them together on the same revolutionary committee and so on.

While the eagles were quarrelling, Hisami had disappeared to boot up the giant teleportation trap. After a long wait she finally comes out of a hidden door, huffing and panting with Zanmu still on her back. We catch glimpses of other strange animals and even oni staffing the facility, though they are masked and heavily covered.

"In general, stations with these traps are distributed like rail, but the traffic is instead one-way: teleportees are catapulted to a location with no guaranteed way back," Hisami explains, "Much like ordinary teleportation traps. Once we get over to the Sanzu, we will need to find another station back. As a fairly busy waterway there should be some along the way at least, I have personally been involved in laying the foundations for several, but to get zoning permits from the Ministry of Right and Wrong has been difficult and so most of them are near large settlements where business use justifies building them."

"That doesn't sound too bad," an eagle says, "We can buy the goods legally and safely, and get back quickly."

"Yeah, one tonne of... 'seafood' is a lot to move around," another concurs.

"But we don't have hard currency on hand," 808 analyzes, wing holding his beak, "We cannot guarantee any support from other convocations on that front, and the locals will not be inclined to trust us on any promises of credit. And if we want to take it by force, against the arms-bearing local population, then we should move as far away from such centers of activity as possible."

"What kind of 'seafood'?" First Convoker squints at the shopping list, still miraculously intact after the commotion on the field. "Even filling quotas for Lady Toutetsu isn't like this."

"For that kind of task we usually target specific categories for a suitably variable and diverse palate..." another eagle speaks up.

"No, that kind of plan won't survive to be followed," 808 cuts him off, "Likely quantity itself is the goal here, and it is not implausible for otherworlders to eat like that. We should take anything we can get our claws on."

Hisami lays down the napping Zanmu onto a bed of colored sand, and, amazingly, Zanmu's wobbling hands and breaths from her snores draw a map, like a sand mandala some humans are said to create. Further brushes and blows from Zanmu modify and emphasize parts of this map to match Hisami's commentary.

"We can simply jump to somewhere not far from the station to use for our return trip. In road-march range from this entrepot town, where we have the station," Hisami points, "Are a shipping lane which leads from and to the other worlds, and some fisheries. Once you take the goods, make a run for the station to jump back to safety. The town is mostly as that mukhabarat-man expects, try anything fishy and you'll be skewered in moments. But amicable partners otherwise."

"Alright, let's see the other options," says First Convoker.

"Now, if you really want to pick a fight, soul-ferries under the Ministry of Right and Wrong's name travel through that shipping lane, and convoys will likely be escorted, but if you can hijack even just one vessel you should have enough goods to complete your task."

"You people want to lay droppings on their heads too?" I ask jokingly, "After all, if the fox and the monk didn't require second thoughts to fight..."

To no one's surprise First Convoker puffs up her chest and proudly brags, "'Strike down the Yama and free the imps', as a human spirit once said! If we want to, there is no stopping us. They are paper tigers that can't even get those soul-ferries through on time; to humiliate them right here would deal so much damage that it'll all be worth it."

"... we can make an attempt," 808 wipes sweat off his face.

"The fisheries, on the other hand, will have the biggest threat be instead the gigantic, primordial sea creatures that the locals try to hunt. The fishermen are friendlier, if only because they need any help they can get against whatever swims down here."

"Seems they're all tough fights," notes 808, "But possibilities for negotiation are present in all of them as well. Still, we have a fifty-bird special forces team, a deer that can transform into a haniwa, and the King of Nothingness with her beautiful stalking consort, it might as well be about realizing how many cards we have to play in the first place..."

[ ] Market town, try our luck with the locals
[ ] Fishing grounds, try our luck with giant sea creatures
[ ] Shipping lane, try our luck with the Ministry of Right and Wrong