What waits after death is hardly ever known by the living. Many have conjectured about that existence after existence, if there even is one, but none really could agree exactly. However, Anon knew that plummeting was associated with one thing.
Hell.
He was falling to Hell. That was undeniable. He was getting decorations for the upcoming holidays, and now he was falling down to a limitless abyss. He couldn't open his eyes to even see his oncoming damnation. Icy winds blasted him from below and the feeling of his stomach launching into his throat kept his eyes screwed shut. The fall to Cocytus felt like an eternity until...
[[Intro 1]]
<<set $tf to 0>><<set $tf1 to false>><<set $tf2 to false>><<set $ref1 to false>>
<<set $ref2 to false>>
How long ago had he fallen into this place? It was hard to keep track of time properly without ever seeing the sun. It didn’t help that his memories were… fuzzy, at best, when it came to how he had arrived here. As if a hazy mist had glazed over his subconscious. He vaguely remembered stumbling through dark caverns before coming across the capital, and it had only taken a few minutes to make a disastrous first impression. He had been harassed by strange figures—people, or so he had first thought. Only later would his employer call them oni.
That employer had turned out to be Satori Komeiji—the girl everyone feared.
She was, apparently, one of the few people who could understand him, using her third eye. …Probably. He didn’t understand how her ability worked in the slightest. It let her read minds, but did that mean it translated them into Japanese, or had she always been fluent in English? He could speak Japanese now—some sort of strange talisman Lady Satori had slapped onto him when he accidentally delivered the wrong box to Miss Okuu—but before that, she must have—
Ah. He was doing it again. Getting lost in his own thoughts.
It seemed to annoy the mind-reader, who called his thoughts “chaotic.” He had done his best to filter them more carefully around her, but it never seemed to work well. If anything, she only found his attempts amusing.
That might be why she had taken him in, really. An idle amusement. He had been around the youkai animals in the palace long enough to know just how inhuman their way of thinking could be, and he had the cuts to prove it. So far be it from him to decide why she did the things she did.
Still, he couldn’t help but think about it—the reason she had taken him in, despite her somewhat… antisocial nature. Maybe she pitied him. Maybe she simply didn’t want a lost human causing trouble in the depths. Either way, she had given him work, and a place to stay within the Palace of Earthen Spirits—deep in the heart of Old Hell.
That was where he was, after all. Hell… or so everyone insisted. If that were true, then shouldn’t he be dead? Yet his lungs still filled with air. His heart still beat. He was alive—impossibly alive—in a place meant for the dead. Right? He was quite certain he would remember dying. He had lucked out for a few months now, but could that really last forever? Even now, going to the capital was dangerous, and many people—youkai, he reminded himself—were more than willing to turn him into lunch. Could a human like him really—
A sharp smack to the back of his head snapped him from his thoughts, a jolt of fear running up his spine.
“Spacing out around a youkai? Someone might just eat you up, ya know~”
He glanced over his shoulder, attempting to look nonchalant as he hid his fear.
[["...Miss Orin."|Intro2]]Looking over his shoulder, he found Orin watching him with a mischievous glint in her eyes, the wisps of the undead dancing lazily around her. It was still unnerving to him, despite having lived here for a while, and he suspected she let them linger just a bit longer around him than she did around anyone else.
“Eh? You’re thinking something rude about me, y’know? What did I do, huh?!”
Huh? W–wait. Was it possible she could also read—
“No, you’re just that obvious! Will you calm down, boyo?” She puffed out her cheeks in a pout.
He forced himself to relax, trying to ignore whatever it was the youkai wanted. He turned back to his cleaning, but before he could lift the broom, she leaned forward until her face nearly bumped into his. Only then did he notice she was dusted head to toe in ashes… which she was now dragging across the floor he had just finished cleaning. Great.
“Hey, hey! Geez, can’t you have a conversation with your pal Orin?”
“Are humans and youkai allowed to be pals?” he muttered, recalling the way youkai bragged about their attacks against humans.
“Don’t be such a stickler—we live under the same roof! We’re practically sisters, y’know!”
“There’s a lot wrong with that statement,” he muttered, given that he was both male and human.
“Don’t sweat the details so much~”
He wondered—not for the first time—whether her freewheeling nature came from being a youkai or from being a cat.
He thought he used to have a cat. Trying to remember hurt.
“You’re thinking something weird again, aren’t you?!” she huffed—right before twirling the broom out of his reach.
Wait. What? He’d been holding that.
“Like I said, you’re too obvious~ Anyway, you’re relieved of your duties! Satori-sama wants to see you for some reason~ Be good, okay?”
“Huh? Miss Satori? What does she want?”
“You’ll just have to find out~”
“So you don’t know either. Got it.”
Orin stuck her tongue out at him as he walked away, putting on an exaggerated look of betrayal that he wasn’t sure he believed. Fortunately, Miss Satori’s office was close to where he had been cleaning, so the walk wasn’t long at all.
[[Enter her office|Intro 3]]He blinked, confused. Miss Satori had called him here… to drink?
“A celebration, in a manner of speaking. You’ve been here for quite some time,” Satori replied as she fiddled with the cork.
That… was true. Satori had found him some time ago, and taken pity on him after—after he had ended up here. In Hell.
He wished he could remember how he had arrived. He still missed home. If he could just figure out how he had gotten to Gensokyo, then maybe he could—
She sighed, the motion soft and practiced. “The memories will come when they choose to. But even I cannot unlock something that does not exist.”
He swallowed. She had told him before that his mind was an anomaly—almost as if the world itself had forgotten him. Or rather, as if his consciousness wasn’t something the world recognized as entirely real. If that were true, then his missing memories weren’t simply buried. They might not be anywhere at all. They weren’t something she could uncover or hypnotize him into retrieving. Not that he even believed hypnosis worked that way—
“Stop thinking.” She raised a hand, as if physically halting his thoughts. “Has anyone ever told you that you think far too loudly?”
Miss Satori did. Constantly.
“Yes, I suppose I do,” she said, not quite amused.
“Well,” she continued, folding her hands neatly, “regardless of how long you’ve been here, I have no qualms about allowing you to stay. Though…” Her gaze drifted to the bottle. “Consider drinking with me a way to improve your tolerance.”
His tolerance?
“A proper Gensokyan needs to be able to hold their drink,” she said calmly, as though reciting an obvious rule of the universe.
He frowned. He had never been a strong drinker; the oni in the Underworld capital—already aggressive toward him—tended to find the fact that he was such a weak drinker far worse than his status as an outsider.
“Hm… well. There is only one way to improve, no?” she murmured.
She poured a glass of what he assumed was wine, though he wasn’t entirely convinced. The liquid caught the light strangely, and the scent didn’t resemble anything he recognized—not that he could trust his memories. It was certainly different from the harsh, burning alcohol the oni gulped down.
“I don’t think you would survive what the oni drink,” she added matter-of-factly.
…Fair enough.
He looked down at the glass, weighing his nerves against her expectant gaze, and—
[[Take a sip|TF 1]] or [[Make conversation|Refusal 1]]
<<set $tf += 1>>
He lifted the wine glass to his mouth and took a small sip.
It tasted like nothing he had ever drunk before—something like fruit juice mixed with cough syrup, layered with the artificial sting of a cheap gas-station energy drink. It slid down his throat warm, but settled in his stomach slow and cool. A strange energy stirred in his limbs, yet his muscles felt heavy, as though he had just finished working out.
He shifted in the chair.
…It felt off, somehow. The seat seemed higher than he remembered—or maybe he was just slouching. He straightened his back, then adjusted again, trying to find a position that didn’t feel subtly wrong.
Satori watched him with something between amusement and concern.
“I wouldn’t say I’m amused,” she said mildly. “I just find it incredulous that you’re fidgeting so much.”
His gaze met hers—but at a slightly different angle than before, as if his perspective had dipped a bit. Must be the dizziness. The drink had set in fast. He supposed he really was a lightweight. He rubbed his forehead.
A faint tingling spread across his skin, crawling lightly along his face and arms. He assumed it was the alcohol. Alcohol did that, right?
Satori nodded, taking another sip of her own glass.
The tingling sensation was strangely delicate—almost like a soft breeze brushing over bare skin. He leaned his chin into his hand as he tried to listen to Satori, though it felt oddly smooth beneath his fingers, the familiar prickle of stubble noticeably absent. He assumed he must have shaved more thoroughly than he’d thought that morning… or maybe the drink had numbed the sensation.
“—though, I will say that I find it somewhat impressive.”
Huh? He hadn’t quite caught that. He supposed he’d better just nod—
Satori rolled her eyes. “Have you forgotten I’m a mind reader?”
…Right.
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. It felt smooth there, too. Had it always been like that? Probably. His forearms felt different as well, the sleeves of his shirt gliding more easily along them. He absently slipped a hand beneath the fabric, feeling his skin—and found it soft. For a moment, a flicker of alarm surfaced. His arms usually had a bit of hair to them.
But his head still felt buzzed from the drink, so he let it go, shifting in his seat again. The chair felt even larger now, and his feet didn’t rest on the floor in the same comfortable way they used to.
“Maybe that’s because you’re slouching,” Satori said airily as she glanced him over. “Or maybe you’re shrinking.”
Har har. Hilarious.
He almost snapped back, but his head was starting to swim, so he let it go.
“Again, I’m a—oh, forget it.”
His eyelids grew heavy. A hazy pressure settled over his thoughts, softening everything at the edges.
Satori sighed in mock exasperation.
“Honestly. One sip—not even a full drink—and you’re already acting drunk. Is this the placebo effect in action?”
He tried to protest, but the words fell apart in his fuzzy mind. Everything felt warm. Comfortable. Too comfortable, maybe. His clothes felt ever so slightly larger, and his sense of scale kept shifting by tiny, imperceptible degrees.
But he blamed the alcohol. What else could it be?
His head swam.
His skin tingled pleasantly, and the faint vertigo finally faded.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.
Satori cleared her throat, trying to draw his attention. She said something—he was fairly sure she did—but he couldn’t remember what.
“My… you really are a lightweight, aren’t you?” Satori said, more statement than question.
He couldn’t muster the energy to feel offended. He just blinked at her dumbly.
Satori took another sip of her wine.
He looked down at his own glass.
<<set $tf1 to true>><<set $tf += 1>><<if $ref1 == true>><<if $ref2 == true>>
<<set _path = "Story 1">><<else>><<set _path = "Choice 3">><</if>><<else>>
<<set _path = "Choice 2">><</if>>
<<link "Try to focus" _path>><</link>>
He gazed down at the wine glass, before absently picking it up.
<<if $tf1 == true>><<set _path1 = "TF 2">><<elseif $tf1 == false>><<set _path1 = "TF 1">><</if>><<if $ref1 == true>><<set _path2 = "Refusal 2">><<elseif $ref1 == false>><<set _path2 = "Refusal 1">><</if>>
<<link "Drink" _path1>><</link>> or <<link "Don't Drink" _path2>><</link>>Satori suddenly raises her glass, gesturing toward you. “A toast, then.” Then she pauses, and looks at him expectantly. “...I don’t actually know what we should toast to.”
The balls in your court. What to toast to?
<<if $tf1 == true>><<if $tf2 == true>><<set _path1 = "TF 3">><<else>><<set _path1 = "TF 2">><</if>><<else>><<set _path1 = "TF 1">><</if>>
<<if $ref1 == true>><<if $ref2 == true>><<set _path2 = "Refusal 3">><<else>><<set _path2 = "Refusal 2">><</if>><<else>><<set _path2 = "Refusal 1">><</if>>
<<link "Toast to recovering your memories and drink" _path1>><</link>> or <<link "Get distracted and don't drink" _path2>><</link>>“Well, let’s toast to… uh. Health?”
He stared into his glass, as though the answer might be hiding at the bottom.
“That doesn’t work,” he muttered lamely. Surely he could come up with something better than that.
“We could drink for the sake of drinking.”
That didn’t really count as a toast, though. It had to be more meaningful than that, he figured.
“Does it really matter?”
Yes—! She’d been the one who suggested it!
Satori blinked once, slow and contemplative. He was more surprised that she let him finish the thought at all. After a moment, she shook her head, clearly exasperated.
“Hm. I suppose I did start this. You’re very good at drawing out emotion from me.”
…Was that good or bad, you wond—
“It is what it is.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but Satori abruptly dropped her face into her hands with a soft groan.
“We’re supposed to be drinking,” she sighed through her fingers. “Ugh. You’ve dragged me into your nonsense again… This always happens when the two of us spend time together, doesn’t it?”
Well, you—
“No. Don’t try to deny it.” She lifted her head just long enough to give him a half-lidded, unimpressed stare.
Then, with a resigned sweep of her arm, she grabbed the wine bottle and slid it back into the desk drawer. The glass clinked softly as it settled inside.
“I’ve had enough alcohol, I think.”
Hadn’t she said Gensokyans had high alcohol toler—
“Hush, you.”
Her reply was immediate. She shot him a sharp glare, irritation clear in her eyes. Her third eye flicked toward him as well, its gaze unreadable—somewhere between annoyance and affection, he supposed.
“What part of hush do you not understand?”
Sorry. You'll stop thinking now.
You looked down at the table, trying—and failing—not to smirk.
She must have had more wine than he’d thought. It made sense. She’d already poured herself a glass before he’d even arrived. He wondered how long she’d been drinking—
Strangely, Satori went still.
Her shoulders stiffened, her third eye narrowing slightly—just for a moment. Something in his thoughts must have struck a nerve, though he couldn’t imagine what. Just as quickly, she relaxed again, smoothing her expression back into gentle neutrality. The eye blinked once, slow and deliberate.
He raised an eyebrow at her.
Satori shook her head, dismissing his unspoken question before it could even fully form.
[[You shrug|Story 2]]“Hm.”
Satori looked him over, her eyes critiquing him for… something. He really hoped she wasn’t considering a uniform for him.
“Who do you take me for, some sort of aristocratic fetishist?” Satori snarked.
That felt like a barb aimed at someone specific.
“It is,” Satori muttered.
She seemed the same as always, but… maybe a little dissatisfied?
“I’m not dissatisfied.”
Had he done something wrong?
“Were you not listening to me?” Satori asked coolly. “I’m not upset about anything, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m merely thinking.”
Her gaze flicked to his untouched glass of wine.
…He supposed it was rather rude not to drink. He must have gotten distracted.
Ah. Well. There was an easy solution to that.
You pick up the glass, ready to down it in one go—
—but Satori prys the glass out of your hand before you can.
“I didn’t pry anything,” she corrected immediately. “I lightly took it from your hands. You’re simply weaker than me.”
He didn’t quite believe that her slight frame was stronger than his.
Satori shot him a sharp glare.
He took the hint and tried to stop thinking.
She sighed.
“It’s fine. I should have accounted for your lack of alcoholism. It’s a bit surprising—here in Gensokyo, it may as well be water.”
She brought a hand to her chin.
“…A different approach, perhaps.”
Approach to—
Satori waved him off. “You need not concern yourself with that. Just meet me here tomorrow at around the same time, all right?”
What? That still didn’t make much—
“I’ll explain properly tomorrow,” she continued. “I need to fetch something in the meantime.”
She turned and started toward the door.
“Escort me to the entrance of the mansion, and you’re free to go after.”
Huh? Why did she need him to—
She suddenly stomped on his foot. It hurt. Far more than her build suggested it should.
Her face was turned away, but her voice carried clearly.
“I would appreciate it if you learned to read between the lines,” she said coolly, “if only a little.”
He was still confused hours later—lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to make sense of any of it.
[[What was that about?|No TF 1]]The next day went the same way his days usually did.
Which was to say: mercifully quiet.
He moved from task to task, settling into the familiar rhythm of life in the Palace of Earth Spirits. Sweeping hallways. Feeding the animals. Avoiding Orin’s attempts to rope him into whatever mischief she was currently cooking up. Nothing remarkable, nothing dangerous—nothing that required more brainpower than he currently had available.
The only disruption came when Satori returned from… wherever she had gone the day before.
Mail, maybe? She had a small package tucked under her arm, wrapped neatly in brown paper. She passed him in the corridor with her usual unreadable expression.
“I’ll show it to you later,” she said simply.
And then she kept walking.
Nothing ominous about that.
Later in the day—after cleaning up after Orin, as was always the case—he finally found time to visit Miss Satori. She was seated at her desk as usual, posture perfectly straight, her third eye drifting lazily around her. The package from earlier lay open before her now, its contents hidden behind the desk.
He barely had time to greet her before she said something that made his heart sink.
“I’ve decided to renege on my word: you do need a uniform.”
God. Damn. It.
“That sort of statement is dangerous,” Satori replied lightly, rising from her chair as though he’d said something deeply offensive.
He opened his mouth to protest—she had never required a uniform from anyone. Not him or her pets.
“You’re correct,” Satori continued calmly. “I’ve never needed anyone to wear one before.”
She stepped closer, her tone slipping into that unnervingly serene cadence she used right before doing something deeply unsettling.
“But the reason in your case is… layered.”
He didn’t like the sound of layered at all.
His gaze flicked to the package on her desk.
So that was what she’d bought yesterday. A uniform.
Great. Fantastic. Wonderful. Exactly what he’d wanted.
Satori hummed softly, clearly amused by his assumption.
“I see you’ve already reached a conclusion,” she said. “An incorrect one—but still, impressive how quickly you leapt to it.”
Wait—if it’s not a uniform, then what—
She reached into the open package.
And pulled out a collar.
A literal collar.
You stare at it.
She stares at you.
Her third eye tilted, observing every spike of confusion and disbelief as it surfaced in his thoughts.
“This is—this is pretty weird,” he managed. “Even for here.”
Satori’s expression flickered—something almost like nervousness passing across her face before she tucked it away.
“It’s practical,” she insisted. “And symbolic. And necessary. Possibly.”
She paused.
“I think.”
That did not inspire confidence.
Maybe it was a youkai thing, he thought weakly. Or some bizarre Japanese cultural custom he’d never bothered to learn about.
Satori shrugged.
“If that helps you accept this, then yes,” she said. “Let’s call it that.”
With a long, resigned sigh, he took the collar from her hands.
She smiles—genuinely, softly, almost relieved—[[as you fasten it around your neck|Ending 1]].The collar settled around his neck with a soft click, its weight unfamiliar but strangely warm.
Satori’s smile faded the moment it locked into place. Her expression shifted—something unreadable flickering behind her eyes as her third eye narrowed on him.
“…It should keep you safe,” she murmured, almost too softly for him to hear.
Before he could ask what she meant, the world tilted.
His knees buckled, his hands slammed against the floor—
Except—
They weren’t hands anymore.
His fingers shrank in an instant, curling inward as dark brown fur burst across his skin. Smooth flesh thickened into padded paws, claws sprouting where nails had been. His arms shortened, shoulders reshaping and forcing him forward onto all fours.
His spine rippled like a wave. His ribs compressed. And from just above his tailbone, something pushed outward—
A small appendage. Then longer. Then furred.
A tail.
He tried to call out to Satori.
What came out instead was a small, startled sound as his jaw stretched forward, reshaping into a canine muzzle. Teeth sharpened. His nose darkened. His ears twitched as they slid upward, reforming atop his head.
“I’m sorry. I had hoped…” Satori’s voice trailed off. “Turning you into her… was impossible, after all.”
Her?
The word felt heavy. Too large. Too complicated.
His thoughts stumbled, struggling to hold onto meaning—but Satori was there. Warm. Familiar. Safe. He leaned toward her instinctively, confusion giving way to something simpler.
Satori knelt beside him, a fragile smile touching her lips.
“But this will keep you alive,” she said softly. “A human from the outside world won’t last long in Gensokyo. But they won’t hunt you like this.”
Her words drifted over him, distant and weighty.
Too complicated.
Too large.
His thoughts softened, warming and quieting. Confusion melted into something instinctive. He leaned closer without thinking, drawn by her scent, her voice, her presence.
Her hand came to rest on his head.
“It’s all right,” she breathed. “You’re not losing anything important. I’ll take care of you.”
[[And you believe her.|Ending 1-2]]<<set $tf to 0>><<set $tf1 to false>><<set $tf2 to false>><<set $ref1 to false>>
<<set $ref2 to false>>
The next morning, he moved through his routine as if half-dreaming.
Walking felt strange. Not difficult—just… different. His steps were lighter, quieter, and his balance seemed to have shifted forward. He caught himself overcorrecting when he turned corners, as though his body expected a weight that was no longer there. More than once, he stopped short of bumping into a wall, though he couldn’t bring himself to dwell on it.
His arms felt shorter when he reached for things. Well—not short, exactly. Just not where he expected them to be. He missed a shelf by a finger’s breadth, knocked over a bucket after misjudging the swing of his elbow, and nearly tripped when his stride didn’t carry him as far as it used to.
Tasks he had long grown used to now felt difficult.
The broom he had been using his entire time here felt thicker, his hands not quite wrapping around it properly. When he tried to lift a bag of animal feed, it felt heavier than it should have. His shoulders didn’t brace the way he expected, and his stance felt narrower—less stable. He ended up setting it down with a soft thump, breathing harder than he thought he should.
That was… annoying.
He rubbed at his shoulder absently and noticed his arm brushed his side in a way that felt unfamiliar. Closer. As if there was less space there than there used to be. His clothes slid against him oddly, sleeves slipping past his wrists, fabric bunching where it never had before.
He adjusted his posture, trying to straighten his worn jacket—only to feel his back arch slightly without meaning to. The motion felt natural. Comfortable.
That was the strange part.
He didn’t remember ever standing like that before.
He tried not to dwell on it.
While tidying the hallway, he paused beside a small puddle left behind from cleaning. His reflection wavered on its surface. Something about it felt off—something he couldn’t quite name. The proportions and colors looked wrong, but every time he tried to focus on what was wrong, the thought slipped away.
He straightened with a small shake of his head.
Probably still groggy.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. He glanced up—
Orin’s stance was wary in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time. Her ears snapped upright, tail stiffening, pupils narrowing into sharp slits.
“…Who’re you supposed to be?” she blurted.
He blinked. “…Orin? What’s this about?”
He startled at the sound of his own voice. It came out strange—higher-pitched, almost hypnotic. Was he sick?
Orin leaned in uncomfortably close, sniffing at him like an animal. Well. She was one, but that felt beside the point.
“Weird…” she muttered. “You smell like that guy, but…”
She squinted, tilting her head so sharply that any human would have snapped their neck doing it.
Before she could finish, a soft voice cut cleanly through the tension.
“It’s fine, Orin.”
They both turned.
Satori stood at the end of the hall, hands folded, her expression unreadable beneath her usual calm veil.
Orin hesitated, glancing between him and Satori. Then she clicked her tongue.
“Well, if that’s what Satori-sama wants…”
She padded off down the hallway, casting one last suspicious look over her shoulder before disappearing around the corner.
Satori’s attention returned fully to him.
Her gaze lingered—longer than usual. Not just her eyes, but her third eye as well, its pupil subtly contracting and expanding as it peered into him. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant, but it left him feeling strangely transparent. He shifted under her scrutiny.
“…You look tired,” she said at last. “Take a break.”
He opened his mouth to protest—but Satori cut him off before the thought could fully form.
A faint, eldritch light glowed within her third eye. It caught his gaze, and he found he couldn’t look away.
“Rest.”
You nod. [[You don’t remember deciding to.|Choice 4]]It took a few hours before he noticed that something was off.
Not the clothes—though they sat strangely on him no matter how many times he tugged or adjusted them.
Not the size of things—though certain hallways felt taller than usual, and his muscle memory betrayed him more often than not.
Not even the pets—though a few of them shied away from him with a nervous shuffle he hadn’t seen in a long time.
No. What finally snapped his attention into focus was a stray, wandering thought.
He didn’t remember what the wine had tasted like yesterday.
Of everything that had happened, that was what bothered him most.
He turned it over in his mind again and again, obsessively—like an itch beneath the skin.
Fruit?
Spice?
Sweet?
Bitter?
Nothing. His thoughts slid off the memory every single time.
He was halfway through scrubbing the hallway floor when someone dropped down behind him without the slightest warning.
“Hey!”
He yelped, spinning around with a sharp cry.
Orin blinked at him, tail swishing lazily.
“Sneaking around Satori-sama’s mansion, are we?” she leered, before squinting at him. Her ears twitched.
“…Wait. Oh. It’s you. What the heck?”
“Personal space…” he muttered under his breath.
Orin’s eyes widened as she stared at him. “Okay—what happened to you?!”
“What do you mean, what happened? I—”
He stopped, frowning.
Something felt wrong. Very wrong. His head buzzed with the lingering fog he’d been trying to ignore all day. With effort, he pushed through it.
And for the first time, he really looked at himself.
His clothes didn’t fit.
His proportions felt wrong.
His center of gravity was lower.
His heart sank.
“…Oh.”
The word came out small.
“Oh no.”
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to think. Something was horribly wrong with him. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—his mind finally snapped awake enough to reach a cold conclusion.
“It must’ve been the wine,” he muttered aloud. “Everything started after that.”
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Orin go completely still.
“I need to go see Satori,” he said, pushing past her. “She’ll know what’s going—”
Orin’s eyes widened.
Whatever had happened to him was something Satori had done on purpose. Which meant that Orin snapping him out of it—intentionally or otherwise—had interfered with her master’s plans.
So she had to fix it.
“Right. I don’t have a choice…” he said quietly, oblivous to Orin's thought due to the feeling of being alien in his own diminished body.
And as he moved forward—
She panicked.
One of her vengeful spirits shot straight into his chest.
His entire body locked up.
Cold flooded his veins—an icy, numbing paralysis as the spirit possessed him. His breath caught in his throat, held captive by something that was not him.
“Heeeeey, buddy,” Orin said gently, as if addressing a frightened animal. He supposed humans were animals.
“I need ya to promise not to go running off, okay? I’m sure we can talk about… whatever’s bothering you like sensible folk.”
He could barely move his jaw, but he managed a stiff nod. Anything was better than this freezing grip.
The spirit slipped out of him like smoke.
He collapsed to his knees, shuddering.
While he was vulnerable, a few of the spirits drifting around Orin moved closer, circling him with curious interest. Hovering near.
Too near.
Their presence prickled against his skin.
“…Why are they doing that?” he whispered.
Whatever had changed about his body, his ability to feel fear clearly hadn’t gone anywhere.
The grimace on Orin’s face made his heart sink.
“Um,” she said slowly. “That’s… probably bad.”
[[Before you can ask, a sharp tingling shoots through your skull.|Ending 2-1]]He rested in his room for a while. He wasn’t sure how long.
Then a thought surfaced, sudden and insistent, and he stood.
He wanted to see Satori.
He wasn’t entirely sure why.
Maybe he just felt like seeing her.
Maybe it was that strange, persistent sense that he ought to talk to her about the wine, for some reason.
…No. Probably not. He remembered that he was supposed to be working on his alcohol tolerance. That made sense.
He wandered the palace halls until he reached her office.
Satori was there, seated behind her desk—as though she had been expecting him down to the second.
“Come in,” she said. “Sit.”
He did.
Satori studied him for a moment, as if searching for something. Then she asked, “Do you remember our meeting earlier today? In the hallway?”
Earlier?
His mind felt blank. Today…
…What had he done today?
He thought he had just stayed in his room. Hadn’t he?
Satori regarded him quietly. “I see. In that case, my path forward is clear.”
He didn’t really understand what she meant.
“That’s fine.”
Was it?
He tried to remember again. There was something he was missing—something important. A feeling just out of reach. Like trying to recall a dream moments after waking, knowing it mattered but unable to grasp a single detail.
Before the worry could take hold, Satori exhaled softly.
“I have an explanation for it all.”
She did?
He hoped so. Something that would explain everything. Every nagging sense that something was wrong—with the situation, with himself.
“Yes. You simply need to improve your alcohol tolerance further.”
…What?
“You aren’t a particularly strong drinker,” Satori said calmly, “but this is one of the side effects of a hangover.”
He swept a stray bang out of his eyes with a few delicate fingers, staring at her in disbelief.
…Had his hair always been green?
“Please focus while I’m speaking,” Satori said gently, and he felt chastened. “Besides, I received this wine for free. If I don’t use it, it would be… wasteful.”
She gestured lightly, as if the logic were impeccable.
It wasn’t.
It was flimsy.
Very flimsy.
But his still-clouded mind accepted it without resistance.
“…I guess that makes sense,” he murmured.
Satori nodded, satisfied.
She retrieved the bottle from the night before and uncorked it with a soft pop. It was still full. The liquid swirled as she poured it into his glass, catching the light in gentle ripples.
He hesitated.
His hand—small and smooth—hovered near the stem of the wine glass.
The scent of the wine rose in a faint, dizzying wave.
[[Drink|TF 4]] or [[Look at your hand|Refusal 4]]He gazed down at the wine glass, absently picking it up. Satori is saying something but he couldn't quite hear her. Something seems strange.
<<if $tf1 == true>><<set _path1 = "TF 5">><<elseif $tf1 == false>><<set _path1 = "TF 4">><</if>><<if $ref1 == true>><<set _path2 = "Refusal 5">><<elseif $ref1 == false>><<set _path2 = "Refusal 4">><</if>>
<<link "Drink" _path1>><</link>> or <<link "Don't Drink" _path2>><</link>>He focused on his hand.
The skin looked soft—too soft.
Smooth in a way he didn’t remember earning.
His fingers were long and slender, lithe where they should have been calloused from work.
Something about it felt… off.
His nails caught the light.
Neat. Clean.
Not a single chip.
That couldn’t be right.
Hadn’t he damaged them earlier, cutting twine? Yes—he remembered cursing at the knife, as though it were somehow at fault—
A gentle clearing of the throat pulled him from his thoughts.
He looked up.
Satori was watching him, her expression unreadable for a heartbeat before a small, reassuring smile bloomed across her face.
Warmth settled in his chest.
Calm washed over him—quiet, heavy, all-encompassing.
She steered the moment back on track, her voice soft and steady, guiding.
The way she looked at him was strange. Less like she was looking at him, and more like she was looking through him. He blinked, feeling his long lashes brush faintly against his cheek.
Something inside him twinged—a faint, uneasy spark—at whatever emotion lingered in her gaze, but before he could give it a name—
“You like it,” Satori said simply.
And the thought dissolved.
Right. Of course.
He did like it. Why wouldn’t he?
Her smile widened just a fraction as she nudged his attention back toward the waiting wineglass.
“Go on,” she murmured, quiet but insistent.
You pick up the wineglass, ready to resume drinking.
<<set $ref1 to true>><<if $tf1 == true>><<if $tf2 == true>><<set _path = "Ending 4">><<else>><<set _path = "Choice 6">><</if>><<else>><<set _path = "Choice 5">><</if>>
<<link "But you find yourself drawn back to your delicate hand, again and again." _path>><</link>>He tried to think things through.
Something was wrong. It had been wrong for a while now. His hair, his skin, his body—the pieces didn’t fit together the way they should. The longer he sat with the feeling, the more it pressed at the back of his mind, insistent and heavy.
There was a thought there—right on the tip of his tongue. Almost formed. Almost reachable.
Every time he tried to grasp it, it slipped away like water through his fingers.
His head began to ache.
Satori noticed immediately.
“Don’t,” she said quietly, but firmly.
He gritted his teeth.
No. Not this time.
He dug his heels in, pushing back against the fog that always seemed to roll in whenever he got close to an answer. He focused, forcing his thoughts to line up, to make sense of themselves.
For once, Satori didn’t interrupt right away.
“…You’re being stubborn,” she murmured. There was something almost wistful in her voice. “You remind me of Koishi. That’s why I wanted to…”
She trailed off.
Koishi.
The name echoed faintly in his mind—hollow, distant. He frowned, trying to place it. That was her sister, right? He heard her name mentioned off hand, but never with any significant detail.
“Who…?” he began.
Satori didn’t let him finish.
Her third eye darted forward—and flashed.
The pressure came down all at once.
It wasn’t violent. Not entirely painful. But it was absolute.
Her presence flooded his mind, quieting the noise, smoothing over resistance as though she were laying cloth over his thoughts. The fog thickened—warm, heavy—closing around every question before it could fully take shape.
His defenses crumbled.
His thoughts slowed.
Then softened.
Then loosened entirely.
He drifted—suspended in a strange, weightless calm where nothing felt urgent anymore. Where he could be guided anywhere, shaped into anything, and it wouldn’t matter.
The sensation slowed.
For a long moment, she didn’t move. Her third eye narrowed, studying the state he had slipped into. Something crossed her expression—regret, perhaps. Or doubt.
“…No,” she breathed quietly.
She hesitated, fingers tightening around the arm of her chair. Then she sighed, the sound tired, restrained.
“This isn’t the right time.”
Her voice softened again as she guided him to his feet, steering him down the hall and back to his room. He didn’t resist. It didn’t occur to him to do so. Everything felt distant, blurred at the edges.
By the time he lay down, the world had already begun to fade.
Sleep took him quickly.
Deeply.
[[You sleep.|Story 4]]Satori looked at him, appraisingly.
"It's okay if you're frightened. I'll be with you." She smiles. "She'll have both of your best aspects."
He felt like she was trying to reassure him for... something. But he couldn't comprehend what.
"Cheers. To us."
She holds up her own glass against his. It's empty.
"Look again."
He blinked and look again.
It's full.
<<if $tf1 == true>><<if $tf2 == true>><<set _path1 = "TF 6">><<else>><<set _path1 = "TF 5">><</if>><<else>><<set _path1 = "TF 4">><</if>>
<<if $ref1 == true>><<if $ref2 == true>><<set _path2 = "Refusal 6">><<else>><<set _path2 = "Refusal 5">><</if>><<else>><<set _path2 = "Alt1">><</if>>
<<link "Clink your glass with hers." _path1>><</link>> or <<link "Try and remember." _path2>><</link>>She wakes up somewhere unfamiliar.
When she opens her eyes, she finds herself in a quiet, softly lit room that smells faintly of incense and clean fabric. Her thoughts are clear—clearer than they have been in a while. Whatever haze the wine left behind is gone entirely, as though it never existed.
…Why had she been referring to herself as she?
She sits up, and immediately knows something is wrong.
It isn’t pain—if anything, she feels fantastic—but she is very clearly not herself. The weight she expects in her body isn’t there. Her balance feels different. Lighter. Centered lower, closer to her hips than her chest. Her limbs feel slimmer, softer, and her hair lies tousled against her head.
And with startling certainty, she realizes she is no longer male.
The way her chest subtly rose and fell from beneath her dress(?), how her thighs are the perfect mix of slender and weighty, and the tingling absence in her crotch where her penis used to be. That realization snaps the last remnants of sleep away as she reaches down, her slender hand brushing over a place that feels warm—and empty. There is no denying it. In this body, it would be impossible to call her a man.
More unsettling still, she isn’t herself at all.
Not… human.
There is no doubt about that—especially not when something drifts into her vision as she shifts in the unfamiliar bed. Something attached to her legs.
A purple cord floats lazily past her shoulder, looping in a loose, almost playful curve before settling near her chest. At its end—hovering calmly in the air—is an eye.
Her third eye.
Just like Satori’s.
Her breath catches.
Panic finally surges, sharp and overwhelming. She scrambles out of bed, legs refusing to cooperate the way she expects. She staggers across the room, heart pounding, until she spots a mirror mounted on the far wall.
She stops just short of it—
Because that’s when she sees her reflection.
A girl stares back at her.
She’s small—noticeably so—her build slight and compact in a way that feels both foreign and uncomfortably intimate. Pale green hair frames her face in soft, airy layers, curling gently at the ends. Dimly, almost distantly, she realizes the girl is very cute. The thought startles her nearly as much as everything else.
Bright green eyes stare wide and unblinking beneath long lashes, filled with the same shock she feels.
She’s wearing a strange yellow blouse, loose and a little too large, with dark cuffs at the sleeves and blue, diamond-shaped ornaments running down the front. Beneath it, a green skirt flares softly, resting against thighs slimmer and smoother than any she remembers having.
Her heart stutters.
Is this… her?
She lifts a hand.
The girl in the mirror lifts hers too.
She steps closer. So does the girl. She tilts her head—and the reflection mirrors the motion perfectly. The floating eye drifts smoothly with her, tethered by its cord. The one in the mirror does the same.
She gasps.
The sound that leaves her mouth is light. High. Unmistakably feminine.
She claps a hand over her lips, eyes wide, and the girl in the mirror does the same—cheeks flushing faintly pink.
Behind her, the door opens.
“I see you’re making a ruckus already.”
She whirls around.
Satori Komeiji stands in the doorway, hands folded calmly in front of her. Her expression is gentle—almost fond—as she takes everything in: the panic, the unfamiliar body, the third eye floating obediently at her side.
“Satori,” she chokes. “What—what happened to me?”
Satori tilts her head, feigning confusion.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her third eye turns toward Satori on instinct.
And she reads her thoughts as clearly as if they were her own.
The planning.
The careful pacing.
The wine.
The gradual changes.
The quiet hope that everything would go smoothly.
It worked, Satori’s mind says warmly. Perfectly.
Satori smiles when she realizes her thoughts have been read. After all—she’s reading hers too.
Her breath leaves her in a shaky rush.
“You—” Shock robs her of words. “You did this. You planned all of it.”
“Yes,” Satori admits calmly. “And you handled it very well.”
She stares at her—then at the mirror—then at the unfamiliar body she now inhabits. The soft lines. The too-large clothes. The floating eye that marks her as something inhuman.
She’s still reeling when Satori steps closer and gently takes her wrist.
“Come,” she says. “Before you work yourself into exhaustion.”
Satori glances her up and down, thoughtful.
“And you could use a bath.”
Before she can protest—before she can even think to—Satori turns and begins leading her out of the room, her grip firm but careful.
She’s so stunned she barely registers being pulled along.
The mirror is left behind.
When she glances back over her shoulder, she watches the girl in the reflection being dragged away too.
Which makes sense.
[[Because that girl is her.|Story 5]]The bath is already prepared when she is brought in.
She barely has time to blink, let alone complain, before Satori’s small hands had expertly removed every article of clothing from her body—which is just the strange dress, actually.
“I thought it might be a step too far to dress your undergarments.” Satori says—no, she thinks.
This is all a step too far.
She isn’t quite sure when she is guided into the bath—only that the water surrounds her now, steam curling lazily upward as it laps against her skin. It’s hot, but not uncomfortably so. The kind of heat meant to make her relax whether she wants to or not.
She sits there, frozen, cheeks burning as she becomes painfully aware of her own body.
It’s different. She has small, but clearly defined breasts. Female breasts. She isn’t exactly used to seeing these things outside of magazines, let alone on herself. Not to mention, her skin looks and feels smoother than it should. She folds her arms instinctively, staring down at the water as if it might hide her.
Thankfully, Satori positions herself behind her, so she doesn’t have to see her naked body as well.
“Oh?” Satori remarks mildly. “In the past, that sort of thing would have excited you.” She hums. “I remember vividly a time when you used the thought of me, naked, to pleasure yourself. I wonder, have you stopped seeing me in such a light?”
“That was different,” she mutters, teeth clenched and cheeks flushed. “This is… an unusual situation. For both of us.”
Satori hums softly.
“You seem upset.”
She bites back a sharp reply. Why wouldn’t I be? echoes uselessly in her head.
Satori doesn’t press the point any further. Instead, the water ripples as she moves closer. She tenses—then feels Satori’s hands settle carefully at her shoulders, steady and warm. She begins to wash her back with slow, methodical motions.
“This body,” Satori says quietly, “is still yours. It’s simply a different form.” A better one, she hears her think, and Satori chuckles. “It’s a safer one, as well.”
She stays silent, listening. This doesn’t make her any less angry.
“You’ve lost humanity,” Satori continues. “Yes. But you’ve gained a way of existing that can long outlast it.” So that I… Satori cuts herself off before the thought completes.
She absorbs that, slowly.
Does that really justify—
No. She doesn’t finish the thought. Even though she doesn’t feel intoxicated, her head still aches when she pushes too hard against Satori’s explanations. Satori grimaces, thinking that it will wear off in time.
She doesn’t think she will ever get used to hearing thoughts.
“You will,” Satori responds, as her hands move around to her front.
She stiffens again.
Satori works the soap carefully, deliberately, over her chest. She feels acutely aware of how different it is now, feeling Satori’s hands massage up and down her breasts. Her hands are the same size as Satori’s now. The comparison alone makes her face burn.
“Is that the only reason your face is red?”
She decides to ignore the sensation to the best of her ability. It’s annoyingly difficult.
“Don’t you think there’s some benefits to becoming female? Men don’t enjoy these sensations as vividly,” Satori says, matter-of-fact.
Be that as it is, there aren’t any benefits to losing her humanity.
“There are some. Though I suppose I wouldn’t be able to prove that. You will understand in time, I’m certain.”
She feels warm. She doubts that feeling comes from being a youkai.
“No, that’s ordinary pleasure.”
“Well, could you knock it off? This is weird and uncomfortable.”
“Shouldn’t you know by now it’s pointless to lie?” Satori murmurs, and moves one of her hands off her breast. It gently brushes past her third eye as it trails downward…
She sucks in a sharp gasp of air as Satori’s hand rubs at her folds.
“T-this—”
“Is a reward for submitting to all of this,” Satori whispers in her ear, before digging a finger into her depths.
She manages to last around two minutes under Satori’s ministrations. In her defense, she is doing everything in her power to focus on keeping her mouth shut rather than resisting the feeling.
She doesn’t want to hear her own voice right now.
When she orgasms, it rushes over her entire body rather than just her crotch, leaving her breathless as if she has just finished an intense workout. Even as it finishes washing over her, Satori continues to knead her depths with her finger. She keeps squirming.
…She was certain she could last longer before.
“This isn’t before, though.” Satori withdraws, mercifully. “A pity we’re in the bath. I’d have liked to show you what my hand looked like after.”
She takes a moment to breathe, before risking a glance over her shoulder. Satori is naked, of course, though she can’t appreciate the thought as she normally would.
“Didn’t you say I was supposed to be your sister now?”
Satori meets her gaze without hesitation.
“A little skinship is fine.”
She tilts her head.
“The relationships of youkai are different from those of humans.”
Her hands linger longer than strictly necessary. She flinches, then stills, acutely aware of how sensitive this body is—how responsive it feels to even small touches.
Satori notices, and is upon her once more.
She has to wash again and repeat this cycle once more before Satori finally relents.
She begrudgingly admits that it was good—the kind of good she could get addicted to.
“I’m glad you can see it my way.”
She scowls. “Shut up.”
Finally, Satori helps her from the bath.
Before she can pull away, Satori leans in and presses a kiss to her lips.
It’s gentle, deliberate, and most certainly not the kiss two “sisters” should share.
When Satori steps back, she watches her reaction carefully.
“Try to adapt,” she says softly.
She leaves the bath with her thoughts tangled, her chest tight, and a feeling she can’t sort.
[[You don't leave Koishi's room for a full day after, but eventually try to adapt, as Satori suggested.|Story 6]]She does her best to adapt.
She doesn’t have a choice. No matter how much she screams or argues, Satori confirms—calmly, unwaveringly—that there is no going back. A single glance into Satori’s mind is enough to confirm the truth of it, and the certainty leaves her hollow with despair.
So she returns to life as normal.
At first, that means small things, just keeping up with routine. She goes back to the work she did before, cleaning corridors, tending to the animals, carrying messages through the palace—only now she does it in a body that feels wrong in ways she can’t always name.
Her steps are softer. Her posture is different, too. When she isn’t holding anything, her arms hang loosely at her sides, drifting slightly away from her body. She catches herself reaching for doorframes that aren’t where she expects them to be. She finds she can lift objects she once struggled with effortlessly. Her clothes feel awkward, and Satori insists she wear Koishi’s—as is proper. The yellow dress sways around her legs as she moves, and her third eye is a constant, inescapable presence.
She misses the quiet.
Because of the eye, she rarely seems to get it.
Orin takes the longest to adjust.
She stares at her more than she used to—ears twitching, tail flicking—as if trying to reconcile what she sees with what she remembers. Sometimes she circles her outright, sniffing, squinting.
“You’re… Koishi, right?” Orin asks once, clearly uncertain.
She opens her mouth to answer—
—and realizes she doesn’t know how to phrase it.
She plays it off, but Orin doesn’t seem convinced. Later, she reads the suspicion in Orin’s thoughts—unease about her disappearance and “Koishi’s” reappearance. After that, she starts to avoid her.
Okuu, on the other hand, doesn’t notice at all.
She greets her the same way she always has, chattering excitedly about furnace temperatures and patrol routes, oblivious to the fact that the person she thinks she’s talking to no longer exists in the way she imagines.
She knows Okuu doesn’t notice because she can read her thoughts—bright, simple, unfocused. There’s no recognition of difference there. Just the same warm enthusiasm as always.
The animals notice your new form.
They notice immediately.
At first, she assumes it’s coincidence—pets lingering closer than usual, spirits brushing against her more often. Then she realizes she can hear them. Not words, exactly, but impressions. Needs. Emotions. A gentle pull toward her that hadn’t existed before.
When she kneels, they gather. When she reaches out, they don’t flinch.
She understands them now—their hunger, their fear, their simple joys. And they understand her in return. The palace pets grow more affectionate, following her from room to room, curling around her feet when she stops.
It’s comforting.
So is the empathy that comes with it—the sense of connection, of belonging in this place. One of the few benefits of all this, if she’s being honest with herself.
She learns to fly not long after.
Satori insists it’s necessary.
“It’s how things are handled here,” she explains calmly. “When trouble arises.”
She hates it.
The first time she lifts off the ground, the world tilts violently. Her stomach lurches as gravity loosens its grip. She spins awkwardly, flailing, until Satori steadies her with a hand on her shoulder and a quiet, grounding presence in her mind.
She never quite gets used to it. Flying always feels wrong—like being exposed. Unanchored might be the better word.
But it works.
When trouble arises, she rises above it. When arguments escalate, they resolve in bursts of danmaku instead of fists. She learns the patterns quickly—the unspoken rules of spellcards and restraint. It becomes another tool. Another obligation folded into her duties.
Outside of all that, she keeps her hobbies.
She draws when she can, sitting quietly with paper and pen—or charcoal. She’s never been picky. At first, she doesn’t notice the change: the way her lines grow sharper, her subjects darker. Faces with hollow eyes. Twisted forms. Things half-hidden and watching.
When she looks back at them later, she doesn’t remember choosing those themes.
She shrugs it off.
She, embarrassingly, took up a new hobby as well: masturbation. Before, it was something that she did sparingly, mainly due to the glances Satori would give her whenever she met up with her after a session.
Now, it was something she did almost daily. It was a good distraction from her spinning mind.
It definitly wasn't because she found that it felt really, really good.
When she talks with Satori one day, the same stilted conversations the two always seemed to have these days, Satori smiled at her and says that she's happy you have a healthy sex drive.
That flustered her. What sent her chasing Satori from the room is when she offered to lend her a hand whenever she wanted.
The next day, she found a dildo in her- Koishi’s room. Satori's handiwork she's certain- she'd checked the room top to bottom during the day after she registered her transformation. She's almost petty enough to toss the thing directly at Satori’s stupid smug face.
Unfortunately, she's horny enough to actually try using it.
…It’s impossible to go back to her fingers afterward. She was terrified of how an actual one would feel.
She spent the day after that realization glowering at Satori.
“Hm? I haven’t done anything to your memories, so if you’re thinking something like that, it was probably always that way, wasn’t it?”
She actually tossed the dildo at Satori after that statement.
[[…|Story 6-1]]He doesn’t need a mirror to know anymore.
His hands tell him enough—smaller, softer, unfamiliar in their balance. When he speaks aloud to test his voice, it no longer vibrates in his chest the way it once did. His height. His weight. The way his clothes hang wrong even after all this time. None of it aligns with who he used to be.
His skin is smooth in places it shouldn’t be. His hair falls into his face in a way he never learned how to manage. He is very clearly someone else now.
He sits in his room for a long while, examining himself in pieces. Hands. Arms. Shoulders. The rise and fall of his breath. The sound of it.
Eventually, he stops pretending.
When he addresses Satori, he doesn’t circle the issue.
“Why did you do this to me?”
She is neither surprised nor defensive. She observes him passively, as she always does. Her third eye opens a little wider, then softens.
“I wondered when you would ask that plainly.”
He folds his hands together so they won’t shake. “Is this just… what youkai do?” he asks. “Do what they want to people because they can?”
“Sometimes,” she answers immediately. “But this wasn’t because I am a youkai.”
She stands and comes around the desk, stopping a few steps away from him.
“This was personal.”
His stomach sinks.
She speaks carefully, as though each word carries weight.
“My sister,” she says. “Koishi.”
The name finally settles into place. Her younger sister—the one no one spoke of. Especially not around Satori. But hearing her say it—quietly, almost reverently—changes something.
“She closed herself off from the world long ago,” Satori continues. “Not physically. Mentally. Emotionally. She severed her connection to others… and to herself.”
Her gaze drifts, unfocused.
“Before that, she was gentle. Thoughtful. Uncertain. She questioned herself constantly. She cared too much.” Her eyes return to him. “She reminded me of you.”
He grits his teeth.
“You’re saying…” He swallows. “You were trying to—what, let her live through me?”
Satori nods once.
“Yes.”
The words escape him before he can stop them.
“So you were trying to kill me, then?”
“No.”
The answer is firm.
“You wouldn’t have died,” she says. “Not in the way you fear. Rather… you would have become her. A safer body. One that could endure longer. One that wouldn’t break the way a human’s would.”
His chest tightens.
“A longer-lasting one,” she continues softly. “One that could house her existence without pain.”
He takes a step back.
“But I don’t want that,” he says. “I don’t want to be her.”
Satori closes her eyes.
“That may no longer be an option.”
His breath catches.
“The method I used,” she continues, “is not reversible. It is a one-way process. If you stop now—if you reject it entirely—your body may not survive the instability.”
Silence stretches between them.
He thinks of everything he has already lost.
He thinks of how wrong his body feels.
He thinks of how tired he is.
“…Bring the rest of the bottle,” he says quietly.
Satori opens her eyes.
“You’re certain?”
He nods, even as tears blur his vision.
What follows is nothing like before.
The transformation is fast. Painful. His body twists inward, bones shifting as skin burns with heat and cold at once. His chest tightens, breath hitching as his center of balance lurches violently. Something deep inside him snaps into place—not just physically, but conceptually.
His mind stretches.
His thoughts fracture.
He screams.
Satori holds him as his body finishes settling, as unfamiliar sensations lock themselves into permanence. She stays while he sobs into her shoulder, while his mind reels and his sense of self splinters beneath the weight of something non-human—[[something he was never meant to carry.|Ending 3-1]]She- He- Whoever it was, You continue to drink the wine, but there’s a part of you that’s resistant, as well. That need this all to stop. You’re torn between resisting and submitting, indecisive.
Satori looks at you, her deadpan breaking into something concerned for a moment.
For a brief second, a moment of clarity peaks through.
Your body feels wrong in a way that’s difficult to articulate, like you’re wearing yourself incorrectly. The partial transformation you’d already endured seems to tug at you from every direction at once, pulling without finishing the job.
It’s like your body can’t decide what it’s supposed to be.
Something sharp blooms behind your eyes, and you gasp, clutching the edge of the desk. The room tilts. Your heartbeat stutters, then races, each thud sending another spike of pain through your skull.
Your chest tightens. Your breath stutters. Your limbs feel misaligned, as if they’re attached at slightly incorrect angles. The room tilts, and when you push yourself up from the chair, your legs don’t respond the way you expect. Your balance lurches forward, then back, and you have to grab the edge of the desk to keep from falling.
Something is wrong.
You don’t wait to think it through. If you’re right, then Satori...
You let instinct take over.
You turn and bolt for the door.
Your feet hit the floor too lightly, steps skidding, momentum carrying you farther than intended. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, each thud sending a spike of pain through your skull. The further you go, the worse it gets—like your thoughts are being pulled apart, stretched thin.
By the time you reach the entrance hall, your vision is swimming.
Your head feels like it’s splitting open.
Something is horribly wrong.
Your head feels like it’s splitting open.
Fragments of sensation overlap in nauseating ways: your body feels both too small and too large, too tight and too loose. Your skin crawls. Your bones ache without pain, a deep internal wrongness that makes it hard to tell where you end.
You stagger, clutching your head.
You are you—
no, not quite—
your body is too light, too heavy, too foreign—
Your body doesn’t feel like yours anymore.
But it isn’t something else, either.
Footsteps approach—quick, purposeful.
“Stop.”
Satori’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp in the way she only uses when scolding someone. You barely manage to lift your head before she’s beside you, peering down at you.
“…This isn’t right,” she murmurs. “This isn’t what I intended.”
Your body convulses. It feels wrong, your limbs tremble uncontrollably, muscles tightening and loosening without pattern. You choke on your own words. “I—something’s—wrong—”
“I know.” Her voice is strained now. “You’re rejecting the change. Or rather… you’re stuck in it.”
You don’t understand.
“You’ve begun turning into a youkai,” she says quietly, “But only partially. Your body can’t sustain this state. It’s unraveling at the seams.”
That sounds very bad.
“I can fix this,” she continues, urgently. “But not without doing something drastic.”
You can barely think. Your head feels like it’s being pulled apart from the inside. Whatever she’s suggesting, you don’t have the energy to question it.
“Do it,” you whisper.
Her hesitation is brief—but unmistakable.
“…I’m sorry.”
The pain spikes once more—
[[—and then everything goes black.|Some TF 2]] The garden is quiet again.
Not peaceful—too much of it lies broken for that—but quiet, at least.
Satori kneels where the last spell collapsed.
Her shoulders tremble. Her hands are clenched in the fabric of her dress, knuckles pale. For the first time since she became… what she is now, Satori’s thoughts are not carefully layered or restrained. They spill outward in jagged fragments—raw, unfiltered—striking her mind with painful clarity.
'I didn’t want this.'
'I can’t lose you too.'
She descends slowly, landing a few steps away. Her feet touch the ground with unfamiliar lightness, her body responding smoothly where her emotions lag behind. For a moment, she simply watches Satori—this youkai who altered her, protected her, tried to overwrite her, all out of a desperate refusal to be alone.
“Satori,” she says quietly.
Satori flinches at the sound of her voice. When she looks up, her eyes are wet and unfocused, her composure utterly gone.
“I can’t do this again,” Satori says hoarsely. “I can’t watch another person fade away while I stand by pretending it’s for their own good.”
She hesitates.
She thinks.
Then she steps closer.
“There’s another option,” she says.
The idea feels stupid. Improbable. But—
Well. It isn’t wrong of her to be greedy, she decides.
She explains that what she was—what she lost—doesn’t need to be destroyed for what she’s become to continue. That the self who arrived in Gensokyo can persist, intact. Untouched by what followed. Human. Male. Unaware of the fate he narrowly escaped.
A clone.
Not a mirror of her current form, but of how she started.
Satori’s third eye watches her more closely than the others, tracking not just her words, but her intent. When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet.
“He wouldn’t remember,” she says.
“No,” she replies. “Only up to when I first arrived.”
“And you would remain… like this.”
She hesitates—then nods. This way, a version of her could live on. It might be the only thing Satori would accept. You didn't want to show it, but... you just narrowly won, here. If it lasted even a minute longer...
A long pause stretches between them.
Then, slowly, Satori exhales.
[[“…All right,” she says.|Ending 7-1]]“I’m sorry,” Satori murmured. “I truly am.”
Satori stayed with her until her breathing evened out. Until the trembling in her hands dulled into something distant and manageable. She didn’t try to justify herself again. She didn’t offer promises meant to soothe. She simply remained—steady, present—as though proximity alone might anchor her.
It wasn’t enough.
After that, she tried.
She really did.
She walked the halls of the palace as though she belonged there—head held high, steps measured, movements careful. She imitated the rhythm she remembered once having, even though her body no longer quite agreed with it. She smiled when spoken to. She nodded at the right moments. She performed the shape of a life.
She tried to listen without listening.
She learned to keep her eyes fixed on the floor, on walls, on passing objects—anything to avoid meeting another’s gaze. She reminded herself she didn’t need to look inward, that her third eye was a decoration, that the thoughts brushing against her were only background noise.
But they never stayed in the background.
They pressed in constantly, a ceaseless murmur at the edges of her awareness. Feelings bled through first—irritation, boredom, hunger, fleeting curiosity—followed by fragments of intent, half-formed impulses, memories that weren’t hers. They overlapped and tangled, slipping past whatever barriers she tried to raise.
She couldn’t tell where she ended anymore.
Some nights, she lay awake staring at the ceiling, unable to tell whether the unease in her chest belonged to her—or to someone walking two corridors away. She flinched at emotions that spiked without warning. She felt guilt for thoughts she hadn’t thought. Anger she hadn’t earned. Longing that had nothing to do with her own heart.
She tried to drown it out with routine.
She failed.
Eventually, she stopped trying.
One night, when the palace was quiet and the hum of distant minds felt momentarily thinner, she left.
She didn’t tell anyone.
She didn’t pack anything.
She just walked.
Away from halls that echoed too loudly. Away from Satori’s careful concern. Away from the weight of being something she was never meant to be. She walked until her legs ached and the noise thinned, dissolving into silence.
The air grew cooler.
The world opened.
She stopped at the edge of a lake.
The water was still—perfectly smooth—reflecting the sky above like glass. For once, there were no thoughts pressing against her mind. No voices. No emotional residue clinging to her awareness.
Only quiet.
And her reflection.
She knelt, staring at the unfamiliar shape looking back at her. The way her eyes caught the light. The way her posture settled without effort. The third eye—unmistakable, even in the dimness.
“You look sad.”
The voice startled her.
Someone stood at the water’s edge, close enough that she didn’t remember her arriving.
She looked exactly like her.
Not an imitation. Not a distortion. The same height. The same hair. The same eyes—bright, distant, unreadable.
She smiled—not cruelly, not kindly. Just… blank.
“Why?” she asked.
She lowered herself to sit on the ground, suddenly exhausted.
“This body isn’t mine,” she said quietly. “These thoughts aren’t mine. I don’t know how to live like this.”
The other woman nodded, as though she’d said something obvious.
“I know,” she replied. “I felt the same way.”
She reached into her sleeve and produced a needle. Thread.
Her breath caught.
She didn’t need an explanation. She understood immediately what was being offered. What it would mean. The implications bloomed fully formed in her mind—heavy, irreversible.
It would mean sealing herself away—cutting off the world, closing a door that could never be reopened.
Forever.
She stared at her for a long moment. At the calm certainty in her eyes. At the absence of noise around her. At the peace that radiated from her like still water.
Slowly, she lifted her hand.
Her fingers brushed the third eye on her chest. It flinched under her touch—sensitive, alive, painfully aware.
Fear coiled in her stomach.
But the quiet held.
She took the needle.
She ignored the sting.
Ignored the trembling.
Ignored the part of her that screamed this was wrong.
[[And with steady, deliberate movements, she began to sew.|Ending 3-2]]He rested his arm on the table, noticing the paperwork still strewn about.
“Ah. I admittedly hadn’t quite finished all of my work,” she said, effortlessly following his train of thought. “Though what’s left is mainly just busywork. Tasks that aren’t necessarily urgent—just time-consuming.”
Satori took a sip of her wine, nodding in quiet satisfaction at the flavor.
“It’s quite good, you know.”
He glanced toward the mostly full bottle. There wasn’t any sort of label on it.
“Most alcohol down here is made by the oni, and their organizational skills leave much to be desired,” Satori said. There was a faint edge of vitriol in her voice—one that suggested a story behind it.
“Oh, there very much is. Another time, though.”
She set her glass down and slid the papers into a neat stack with practiced ease, though he noticed a few were left out. They didn’t really look like business documents.
“They aren’t,” she said. “I write as a hobby, you see.”
Huh. He hadn’t known that.
“Everyone has a hobby, anon. Just like your drawings.”
He fidgeted nervously. He would rather nobody knew about those.
“I have no one I plan on telling, so do be calm,” she continued gently. “Besides, your drawings look quite nice. I would like to see them in person later.”
He nodded. He would like the chance to read her work as well.
“…Mm. I’ve no reason to deny you, I suppose.”
She took another sip of wine, then glanced meaningfully toward his glass.
<<set $ref1 to true>><<if $tf1 == true>><<if $tf2 == true>><<set _path = "Story 1">><<else>><<set _path = "Choice 3">><</if>><<else>><<set _path = "Choice 2">><</if>>
<<link "Follow her gaze" _path>><</link>>He stared into the wine glass resting in his hands, watching the surface ripple faintly as his grip shifted. He tried—unsuccessfully—to piece together what was going on. Something felt wrong, but every time he got close to grasping it, the thought slipped away like water through his fingers.
Satori coughed softly, the sound deliberate.
He took the hint and tried to make small talk instead. He mentioned how the pets had been acting strangely lately—watching him more closely, treating him like he was… someone else.
Satori hummed in thought.
“Perhaps you’re behaving in a way that makes them uncomfortable,” she suggested mildly. “Animals are sensitive to such things.”
That seemed reasonable enough. He nodded and accepted it.
Still… Orin’s behavior nagged at him. The way she’d looked at him earlier—too focused, too intent. The thought slipped out before he quite meant for it to.
“Oh,” Satori said easily. “She’s in heat.”
…Ah.
That made sense.
He didn’t notice the brief, incredulous pause in Satori’s expression as she studied him, nor the way her third eye lingered.
He pressed on, trying to keep the conversation moving. Anything to avoid thinking too hard.
As he spoke, his hair slipped loose again, falling into his eyes. He brushed at it absently, already annoyed. It had never bothered him before—though, come to think of it, he didn’t remember ever noticing it at all.
Wait. Wasn’t that a little strange?
“Shall I brush it for you?” Satori interrupted, rising halfway from her chair.
He declined without thinking. She withdrew her hand with a faint, disappointed sigh.
"A pity. I'd have enjoyed it..." He didn't fall for the provocation, and Satori pouted somewhat.
She didn’t press the issue further.
But she kept watching him.
<<set $ref2 to true>><<if $tf1 == true>><<set _path = "Ending 4">><<else>><<set _path = "Choice 6">><</if>>
<<link "...Maybe she can brush it later." _path>><</link>><<set $tf += 1>>
Taking another sip of the wine, he felt that same lightheaded wave roll through him again—just when he’d thought it was starting to fade. His fingers tightened around the glass. Maybe accepting Satori’s offer for another drink hadn’t been the smartest idea after all.
“Ahem,” Satori said delicately, as though nudging his wandering mind back on track.
Well… you wouldn't say your mind is wandering.
“It’s always wandering, frankly,” Satori replied. Her eyes—well, her normal eyes—glanced upward for a moment, toward his head, though he couldn’t quite tell why.
“All of my eyes are normal, thank you very much.”
W–well, you know what I—
He grimaced, unable to finish the thought. His head itched—not painfully, just irritatingly. Maybe he really was a lightweight.
“A bit,” she agreed easily, “but that is what we’re working on here, no?”
You couldn’t argue with that.
“No, you can’t,” she replied before the thought even finished forming.
His hand drifted upward to push a stray bang out of his eyes—only to hesitate.
His hair brushed his eyelashes, a soft, whisper-light touch that made him blink. Since when did his hair fall that low? It felt longer… and lighter… and oddly silky, nothing like the coarse, almost sharp strands he was used to.
“Are you playing with your hair now?” Satori asked, unimpressed.
He hadn’t meant to, but the sensation distracted him. A lock slipped between his fingers with surprising ease, smooth enough to almost glide.
“We’re supposed to be drinking,” she continued, sounding faintly amused, “but you keep getting sidetracked… Well, I suppose watching this is interesting in its own way, though I still...”
Satori shook her head.
You didn’t really know what she was talking about, but you decided it offended you.
“No, it doesn’t,” she replied immediately. “You’re only pretending to be offended. It amuses you.”
And how would she know that, miss—
Her third eye blinked at him, the movement crisp and knowing.
He stopped mid-thought, feeling foolish.
…
His fingers slid into his hair again, almost unconsciously.
It… hadn’t been this long before. Had it?
The tips now brushed the sides of his jaw in soft waves. When he shifted slightly in the chair, the strands swayed with a gentle bounce. The ends curled inward just a little, framing his face in a way that felt—oddly natural. As though they had always done that.
Was it lighter? Fluffier?
The hair at the back of his head felt buoyant, soft enough to puff outward in feather-light tufts. And the texture—his hair had never been this soft. It had always been difficult to manage, something his mother used to complain about endlessly. He’d eventually grown tired of the fussing and decided to keep it short.
Or… he used to?
His hand drifted through it again, mesmerized by how effortlessly it parted and settled back into place.
He only noticed the color when a pale strand caught the light.
Blonde? No—green.
A soft, minty green, brightening toward the ends.
It looked… uncanny. Not a natural color. Not something that should be appearing on a human.
His hair hadn’t been this color before. What—
“It’s fine. Calm down.”
Satori’s voice cut cleanly through the alcoholic fog.
“It’s fine if your hair is changing. Or maybe your hair was always like this. That would make more sense, wouldn’t it?” she continued smoothly. “There’s nothing strange about having green hair. There are many people in Gensokyo with green hair.”
Something about her tone felt… wrong. Off-putting.
But the thought slipped away almost immediately.
“Your hair was always this way,” she said gently. “You’re only properly noticing it now.”
The fog clouding his mind thinned, if only a little.
…Right.
Of course.
Miss Satori was right. How could he have mistaken something like that? His hair had always been green. He was almost surprised he hadn’t been teased for it more growing up. His mother had always hassled him about taking better care of it, hadn’t she? Or at least complained about it in one way or another.
He supposed it didn’t really matter what she’d thought.
Another soft lock slipped across his cheek, curling there as if claiming the space.
He brushed it aside without much thought. His fingers left a faint trail through the velvety strands before they fell neatly back into place, perfectly framing his face once more. The itching on his scalp finally faded.
He sighed, sinking slightly into his seat.
Satori set her glass down, then leaned across the desk and patted his head.
She seemed satisfied with it.
He didn’t hate the feeling—despite his confusion at her sudden closeness.
“Well, I wouldn’t have done it if I knew you would dislike it,” she said lightly. “It suits you, I’d say.”
Satori smiled.
He felt uneasy.
“No, you don’t,” Satori corrected him.
He almost disagreed—but a sudden rush of vertigo washed the thought away.
<<set $tf2 to true>><<set $tf += 1>><<if $ref1 == true>><<set _path = "Story 1">><<else>><<set _path = "Choice 3">><</if>>
<<link "Try to focus" _path>><</link>>Satori watched him rotate the glass with a slight frown.
“What are you—no, you’re not going to aerate this wine. I’ll have you know it’s fine as is.”
Well, he supposed. But consider—
Satori blinked at his thoughts with all three eyes, then her expression flattened into a deadpan.
“I’m not incredibly familiar with ‘movies,’ but this doesn’t make you look any cooler, really.”
Shot down in flames.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Satori sighed. “You really do remind me of her…”
Her?
He looked at Satori, but before he could open his mouth, she suddenly glared at him. “Let us talk about something else.”
There was something cold in her voice that made him instinctively agree. She winced slightly at his reaction, then quickly smoothed her expression back to normal.
He felt bad now. He had definitely brought down the mood of what was supposed to be a celebration. Maybe he should go—
“Don’t,” Satori ordered, meeting his gaze. “It’s fine. I’m not lying when I say I enjoy your company, you know. Though…”
She paused, looking faintly bashful. It was a surprisingly cute expression. A flush of pink crept across her face before she shook her head.
“Let’s… change the subject.”
<<set $ref2 to true>><<if $tf1 == true>><<set _path = "Story 1">><<else>><<set _path = "Choice 3">><</if>>
<<link "Nod mutely" _path>><</link>><<set $tf += 1>>
“Well…” He thought it over for a moment before settling on something. “Let’s toast to—”
“Yes, that’s a splendid thing to toast to,” Satori finished for him, smiling warmly over the rim of her glass.
You shoot her a look.
He knew it was a bit pointless, but it would have been nice to finish a thought. She only smiled wider, offering no apology whatsoever.
Still, he clinked his glass against hers. The final swallow of wine slid down his throat with a warm, tingling burn. For a moment, nothing happened.
And then—just like before—
Something shifted.
His shoulders softened first. The broadness they once had eased inward, narrowing with each subtle breath. His collarbone followed, becoming more delicate, arching higher beneath his skin. The shirt he wore slid downward slightly, the collar opening wider around his neck as if the frame beneath it had grown smaller. He tried to sit up straighter, suddenly uncomfortable, but his body was slower to cooperate.
Strangely, despite that sluggishness, his limbs felt… lighter. Not weaker—just less, somehow. As if the modest muscle mass he’d once taken pride in had been misplaced. He watched his own arm, transfixed, as the changes continued. The muscle refined, smoothing into a softer, more delicate outline. His bones seemed to shift beneath his skin, though the sensation was muted.
His torso settled differently. His spine realigned itself with unnatural ease, vertebrae subtly adjusting. His ribs drew inward just enough to narrow his silhouette. His waist followed, pulling in as his posture straightened without conscious effort.
His hips tightened inward, then subtly flared—only enough to maintain balance. His thighs reshaped beneath his clothes, the fabric loosening as muscle redistributed into a smoother, softer form. His legs slimmed further, calves refining while his thighs took on a gentler curve.
His entire build reorganized itself—more compact, more delicate.
This should have hurt.
It should have felt alarming.
Instead, the sensation was simply… muted. Strange. He stared down at himself, trying to understand why nothing feels wrong even as everything visibly moves.
His throat tightened suddenly. He reached up instinctively as the faint bump of his Adam’s apple withdrew inward, smoothing into the line of his neck. His throat fluttered once, then twice, and then—
“Hm,” Satori hummed, watching him closely. “Your voice will sound different now.”
“My voi—”
He stopped.
His voice caught in his throat, light and airy as the words left his lips. Higher-pitched, almost lilting even without emotion behind it. The sound startled him enough that he coughed—but the noise that followed was just as soft and bright.
Satori nodded knowingly. “Your voice is settling. It suits you.”
“S-settling? What is… settling…?”
“Only a small change. Nothing alarming.”
He swallowed, startled. “That—that’s—”
He winced. His voice sounded wrong. Not bad—a little childish, perhaps—but it lacked the familiar rough edge that had always followed his words. He tried speaking again, only to flinch at the sound.
Satori disagreed, smiling faintly. “Ah. There it is. Yes… that’s much closer.”
Closer to what?
The thought barely formed before a tingling sensation crawled across his face.
His jawline softened, angles smoothing into something rounder and more delicate. His cheekbones lifted subtly as he smacked his lips, noticing they felt thinner. His nose shifted, becoming smaller, finer. The slopes of his brows adjusted, lending his expression a naturally brighter curve.
His eyes widened—not in surprise, but physically. Their shape rounded delicately, lashes lengthening. Even without a mirror, he could tell they were opening into a larger, rounder form—more vivid. More childlike.
“And the color is changing, too,” Satori added mildly.
He froze.
“The—the what?” He almost jolted in surprise at your own voice.
“Your eye color,” Satori said, as if this were perfectly normal. “It’s only a slightly different hue.” She sighed, reading his rising panic with ease. “You’re overreacting.”
His eyes darted around the room, searching for a mirror—anything reflective. The wine glass wasn't reflective enough. Satori studied him instead, all three of her eyes studying him in a way that felt strangely intent as his body continued to change beneath his clothes.
She turned away the instant he thought about it.
His hands trembled faintly. When he adjusted his grip on the glass, it felt… larger. Or maybe his fingers were smaller. Narrower. He lifted his other hand, noticing how slim his fingertips looked, joints more petite, knuckles softened.
“That… can’t be right—” he started.
But then Satori calls your name softly, cutting cleanly through your spiraling thoughts.
You lock eyes with her.
…
He blinked, unfocused, and looked down at his hands again—
Whatever had worried him slipped away into the fog clouding his mind. He couldn’t remember what he’d been concerned about in the first place.
He set the glass back onto the desk. He wasn’t even sure what was happening anymore.
By the time the wave of transformation ebbed, his clothes hung awkwardly from his frame. Sleeves pooled around his wrists. His shirt drooped where his shoulders had narrowed. His pants bunched uncomfortably, threatening to slip.
Satori sighed, already attuned to his thoughts.
“Honestly,” she muttered, “coming here wearing something like that… you’re absurd.”
She didn’t sound upset.
More like she was gently teasing him.
It felt like it should be obvious why—but as he looked around, nothing felt wrong. The only thing that seemed different was his clothes… right?
His head swam. Everything felt slow, quiet, clouded—like moving through molasses.
Still, a small voice pushed through the fog:
You've had enough wine.
Satori nodded, as if she expected that reaction.
“Yes. I think we’ve had enough. And thank you for indulging my whims.”
Well… that was fine, he supposed.
Still, he wasn’t convinced his alcohol tolerance had improved at all—
“Don’t worry. We’ll continue in a few days,” Satori said, sliding the wine bottle back into her desk with a gentle click.
Some part of him felt deeply concerned. He just couldn’t remember why.
[[You feel dizzy|Story 1]]<<set $tf += 1>>
He hesitated for a moment as he held the glass. Satori noticed immediately.
“Oh?” she said lightly. “What’s wrong now?”
Strangely, some part of him insisted he’d had enough of… this. Whatever this was. Even though he hadn’t taken a single sip yet.
She sighed, resting her chin in her palm. “It’s wine,” she said patiently. “You’re not being asked to down oni spirits. Aren’t you being overly dramatic?”
He shifted in his chair.
Still.
“Remember, this is for the sake of improving your alcohol tolerance,” she added. “You did agree to this.”
Had he?
It felt more like something Satori had decided on her own. She didn’t respond to the thought—instead, she countered it.
“Come now,” Satori said, her tone teasing. “Be a man and drink.”
That earned a small huff from him—but he lifted the glass anyway and took a sip.
…
Nothing happened.
He swallowed.
He waited.
…Still nothing.
He glanced up at Satori, who was watching him intently.
“What did you think was going to happen?” she asked, amused.
He… didn’t know, actually.
…
The wine was fine, he supposed. It warmed him in the way it was meant to, didn’t it?
Yes—now that he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure why he’d been so nervous.
Warmth spread through his torso, slow and steady. Not unpleasant. Almost comforting. It pooled behind his ribs, settled in his chest, and lingered there with a strange, weighty presence.
Slowly, that presence made itself known, and he felt his chest itch. Two small mounds slowly began to grow on his chest, expanding outwards. It doesn’t last for long- they only expand for a moment, before settling at a comfortable size, just slightly larger than his hands. And maybe slightly larger than Satori’s? He couldn't tell.
Satori glared at him for a moment, and then glares down at herself, as if checking.
“...We’re the same size…” He heard her mutter. He wasn't certain what she was talking about.
His shirt now sat on him strangly bulging in the center and causing part of it to slightly hang. He tried to adjust his shirt to be more comfortable, and his hand grazed one of the sensitive nipples on his newly gained chest.
The sensation draws a high-pitched gasp from him, though he tried to hide it.
The tips are clearly sensitive, even brushing them lightly felt like he was being zapped with static electricity. He felt like they weren't always that sensitive. He didn’t hate the feeling, though, and he gently moved a hand to squeeze it again. It might take a bit of experimenting, but he thought he might just like the feeling.
Once more, he brushed his hand against one of his… breasts? He doesn't have breasts, though. He's a guy.
Well, he clearly had them now.
…
He squeezed it again, enjoying the way it made his chest flutter.
“Kindly stop this immediately.” Satori’s voice cuts through his mind.
You blink.
What was he doing just now?
Satori sighs, her face oddly flushed. “Your thoughts are getting noisy. I don’t really understand that sort of thought process at all…”
He didn’t understand what she was talking about, though something felt off about the way he was sitting. He tried to straighten his back a little, but his balance had shifted. His upper body felt heavier in a way that made him unconsciously adjust his posture.
Satori hummed softly.
“It’s interesting how you’re playing this off…” she said. “Though I suppose it’s convenient. At the same time…”
Her eyes flicked downward briefly.
Then back up.
“…Well. There will be time to… compare that sort of information later.”
He felt like he should understand what she was referring to—but instead, his face grew warm, flushing red without him quite knowing why.
The heat he’d felt earlier began to drift downward, settling toward his lower abdomen.
Not sharp.
Not painful.
Just… warm.
It spread slowly, radiating outward, enough that he shifted in his chair again without thinking. His thighs pressed together a little differently than before. The seat felt fuller beneath him, cushioned in places that hadn’t been before.
He blinked and slipped a hand beneath his pants, feeling at his leg.
His legs felt… softer.
Rounder.
His thighs expanded just a little—not dramatically, not enough to be alarming. If anything, they were still smaller than they’d been before all of this began. But compared to how his body had felt only moments ago, there was more to them now. More shape. More give.
His hips followed, subtly widening again as if settling into a new alignment. The chair creaked faintly beneath him as his weight redistributed.
He shifted in the chair again. His balls felt uncomfortable, like something was chafing them. He tried to readjust again, but it didn't help. It was annoying, to the point where he couldn't really focus on anything else. He slipped a hand beneath the waistband of his pants, trying to fix whatever was going wrong.
He pulled at his manhood, just as it began to diminish, slowly receding inward.
It wasn’t painful at all. Rather, the opposite, it was pleasurable to the point where the only thing stopping him from masturbating was the public location. He continued to rub at his crotch, before he finally felt his manhood fully recede.
A small pair of sensitive lips form where it used to be. He rubbed at it, feeling an unfamiliar absence. It felt good, but it wasn't so pleasurable that it erased the sudden cold shock that ran through him.
His cock was gone.
A spike of panic broke through the haze. He straightened abruptly, breath hitching.
“M–Miss Satori,” he started. His voice came out strange—high-pitched. He recognized that it had sounded like that since yesterday. “Something’s—”
She clicked her tongue sharply.
“Mind your manners,” she said. Something in the room glowed, though he couldn’t quite tell what. “Really. Such uncouth behavior.”
He faltered.
He tried again, but the words wouldn’t come together properly. His head ached whenever he pushed too hard against the sense that something was wrong. The more he struggled, the more the fog pressed back, thick and unyielding.
“Calm down, anon. Everything is happening as it should,” she said, smiling at him.
He swallowed.
His body continued to shift, sensations rolling through him as it changed—unbidden, unstoppable—reshaping itself into something unmistakably female.
…
His lower body felt… different.
Hollow.
As if something that should have been there simply wasn’t anymore.
His pants sat oddly against him now, strangely empty. He shifted again in the chair, trying to settle into a position that didn’t feel wrong—
—and paused, as his slit rubbed against the edge of the chair.
That… feels nice.
He pushed against the chair again, trying to rub at the same spot.
“Nngh!” A whine unlike any noise he'd ever made before came out of his mouth as he caught the chair slightly with his lower lips.
Satori watches you closely, exasperated.
“Seriously… like a kid who discovered masturbation for the first time…” She grouses, then snaps her fingers. “Focus. There will be none of that while you’re at this desk, understood? You can understand your new body at a later time.”
Her face ever so slightly reddens. “I may even deign to… assist you, should you behave.” Her voice trails off toward the end as she starts thinking about something or another, but the particular word choice she used made him pause.
New body? He glanced down.
…Nothing seems out of place. His pants had a growing damp spot at the crotch, but the reason for that seems… obvious.
Nothing seemed to be wrong.
A small voice in his head screamed that there was.
<<set $tf1 to true>><<set $tf += 1>><<if $ref1 == true>><<if $ref2 == true>><<set _path = "Ending 4">><<else>><<set _path = "Choice 6">><</if>><<else>><<set _path = "Choice 5">><</if>><<link "Ignore it." _path>><</link>><<set $tf += 1>>
He took another slow sip of wine. The taste is still somewhat polarizing, but… he doesn't think it’s disagreeable. It’s actually quite nice.
He tried to take a deep breath and calm down. He’d been panicking a lot, but surely he- he would notice if something truly strange was going on with his body.
The thought stumbles in a strange way.
He went through the sentence again, wondering why he- he hesitated with it.
There it is again.
There’s a strange hitch in his mind, like a speedbump is impeding his thoughts.
Something just isn’t sitting right in his head. He frowned slightly, trying to figure out what was wrong.
Satori glances up from her glass.
“You don’t need to speak about yourself like that,” she says quietly.
Like what?
“You don’t need to force anything.” She shrugs. "Just think and act in a way that is natural."
Logically, he should be questioning what she means.
Instead, he- he tried to think through his earlier thought process, without forcing anything.
She tried to take a deep breath and calm down. She’d been panicking a lot, but surely she would notice if something truly strange was going on with her body.
“That’s better,” Satori murmurs.
Better… how? She- you were being corrected somehow, about something, but what? She tried to brush it off.
He was just tired. That’s all.
A dull pressure blooms behind your eyes. Satori sighs softly.
“There you go again.”
He blinked. “Again?”
“You can’t tell? You’re referring to yourself in an incorrect way.”
She- he opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn’t quite line up in his head.
…
The pressure eased when she stopped trying to argue.
You try again: She was just tired. That’s all.
The thought flows more smoothly. The pressure dissipates slightly.
“That’s better, isn’t it?” Satori says with a smile.
She doesn’t answer. She’s too busy trying to understand why her own thoughts felt easier when she used ‘she’ and ‘her’. She never used that sort of language before, so why does using ‘he’ give her a headache?
What’s happening to you?
Before you can dwell on it, Satori speaks, her voice calm and matter-of-fact.
“You are fidgeting again,” she says. “You do that when you’re nervous.”
He flushed slightly. His head pounded again and again.
“I’m not nervous.”
Satori tilts her head.
“You’re telling yourself that,” she says. “But you’re thinking otherwise.”
You try to protest internally—and feel that same pressure return, sharper this time.
He isn’t nervous—
But the thought refused to finish. It slips, reshaping itself without your permission.
She isn’t nervous.
The pressure vanishes.
“There,” Satori says quietly. “No need to fight yourself.”
He rubbed his temple. Something about this conversation felt strange, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. Everytime he- everytime she tried to backtrack, her head started to ache again, like she was pushing against something she shouldn’t.
She should relax.
The thought feels natural. Obvious.
Satori nods in approval at your thoughts.
“Yes.” she agrees. “You should.”
She leant back in her chair, letting her thoughts drift. She- no he-
She grimaced.
When did using ‘he’ become uncomfortable?
“Why wouldn’t it be uncomfortable?” Satori smiles at you. “You’re female, after all. Using he would be unusual for a girl like you.”
Something about that is wrong, isn’t it?
She- he- you-
Your head was pounding. Everything seemed like too much.
“Let go, then.” Someone whispers.
So you do.
…
…
…
She blinked.
“Are you alright?” Satori said. She was leaning over her, now. When did Satori get so close?
She feels fine. Why the concern?
Satori watches you for a moment longer, then looks away, satisfied.
“Good. I’m glad.”
She felt like she lost something important just now.
<<set $tf2 to true>><<set $tf += 1>><<if $ref1 == true>><<set _path = "Ending 4">><<else>><<set _path = "Choice 6">><</if>>
<<link "You've been feeling that a lot lately." _path>><</link>><<set $tf += 1>>
She takes one last sip.
It doesn’t taste as strong this time. Duller, somehow—like the wine has already given her everything it can.
She sets the glass aside, pushing it away with a faint clink against the desk. Satori reaches for it before she can think better of it.
“That’s enough,” Satori says in agreement. “You’ve had plenty.”
She doesn’t argue.
There’s something sad in Satori’s smile.
She doesn’t have time to ask why.
Something feels… wrong.
It’s as if something inside her is loosening, slowly draining away, leaving behind an uncomfortable hollowness. Her chest feels light—almost empty—while a dull pressure gathers beneath her skin. The warmth she’d grown used to ebbs away, replaced by that same hollow, unpleasant emptiness. It feels like she might drift apart if she doesn’t hold herself together.
She shifts, uneasy.
“Satori,” she murmurs, unsure what she’s even trying to say.
“I know,” Satori replies. “Just endure it a little longer.”
She swallows. The haze that had clouded her thoughts earlier feels thinner now—either fading, or perhaps she’s simply grown accustomed to it. She blinks, thoughts slowly returning to coherence for the first time in a while.
She doesn’t get the chance to appreciate it.
A strange pressure builds around her ankles.
She looks down just in time to see something break free.
Two thin, violet cords unfurl from her legs, slipping through the air as though they were never constrained by her skin at all. They stretch outward, smooth and glossy, catching the light as they twist and coil with a life of their own.
She stares, mesmerized, as the cords float upward—light, tensile—winding lazily through the air before looping around her legs, her waist, her torso. They don’t bind her. If anything, they feel responsive. Alive.
They don’t hurt.
They don’t even feel foreign.
When one brushes against her arm, she feels it—not as touch, but as feedback. Tentatively, she tries to twist one.
It responds instantly.
The motion feels intuitive, like flexing a muscle she never realized she had. She rotates it again, slower this time, and the cord follows her intent perfectly, looping through the air in a lazy spiral.
It’s like… a limb.
One she somehow forgot she had.
The cords continue to rise, spiraling together as they drift upward, converging just above her chest. There, they gather into a small, pulsing violet mass, suspended as though held by an unseen force.
She stares at the violet orb, transfixed, as a thin slit forms across its surface.
She holds her breath.
The slit opens.
An eye stares back at her—and something inside her mind splits.
For a moment, her thoughts shatter, scattering and overlapping, collapsing in on themselves. She gasps, clutching the edge of the desk as her vision swims—
—and then it stops. Just as suddenly.
She stares at the eye, heart pounding, breath shallow. Slowly—experimentally—she wills it to blink.
It does.
She tilts her head, and the eye shifts with her, adjusting its focus. She can feel it—both as a physical part of her body and as an extension of awareness. It’s like opening a sense she never knew she had. Like discovering a missing part of herself.
'Because it is part of you, now.'
The thought isn’t spoken.
It’s felt.
She realizes, dimly, that her third eye is reading the room in a different way than she is.
She follows its gaze to Satori—and suddenly, Satori’s mind unfolds before her. Layered. Luminous. Thoughts blooming and folding in on themselves the way her own do.
Satori is reading her.
'And you are reading me.'
Her eyes widen—all of them.
The room lurches as her chair scrapes back. She tumbles to the floor, staring up at Satori in disbelief. The cords drift with her, which makes sense—they’re attached to her now.
Satori rises and steps closer, her expression complicated.
'Be at ease. The worst is over.'
Then she speaks aloud.
“It’s done,” Satori says. “You are now a Satori youkai. Like Koishi and myself.”
Her thoughts echo the words, confirming them with aching certainty.
It’s too much—the weight of the transformation, the sudden presence of another mind pressed against her own. Her head spins, vision blurring as exhaustion crashes over her.
She barely hears Satori’s next words as darkness creeps in.
“I’ll take you somewhere safe,” Satori says softly. “You should rest.”
[[And then the world slips away.|Story 3]]He was met face to face with what would, from a distance, appear to be an ordinary pink-haired girl. She was a head shorter than him, slight in frame, with faint bags beneath her eyes that gave her the air of a tired office worker—
“Excuse you. I’ll have you know I get a perfectly adequate amount of rest.”
Satori tilted her head slightly, as if offended on principle. Up close, of course, it was obvious she wasn’t ordinary. A thin, pulsing vein curled out from her temple and coiled around her body toward her feet, bearing the unmistakable mark of a satori youkai at its center: her third eye.
That third eye blinked at him.
When he had first met her, it hadn’t been the two eyes on her face that had met his gaze, but the third one instead. The memory of seeing it blink for the first time was still unnerving—
“Yes. You were quite frightened at our first meeting,” she said plainly, as though commenting on the weather. “Someone less calm might have lashed out at you for that, you realize.”
He grimaced. Some oni had tried to attack him for that sort of thing. Still, he didn’t mind her strangeness as much. If anything, he found it… almost charming. Despite its inhuman nature, the light pink coloration made the third eye seem almost cute.
“…Ah. Well, thank you.”
She paused, caught off guard for a heartbeat. “It’s unusual to hear a compliment from someone who isn’t one of the pets…”
Ah. Right. Miss Satori could read minds. He should probably apologize.
“I—”
“It’s fine,” she cut in gently, her voice slipping back into its usual calm monotone. “If anything, I prefer compliments over insults.”
He relaxed a little. Despite the stigma surrounding her, she truly was kind.
“I’m simply the sort of person who takes pity on strays,” she added lightly.
Well… lucky him, then.
…It would be nice if Orin showed him such mercy as well, he thought unbidden.
“She’s enjoying the novelty,” Satori explained. “There aren’t many newcomers here. And fewer still who are human enough for her to tease. You’ll forgive her, won’t you?”
He would try. But she was—
“It’s the nature of youkai to scare humans,” Satori finished for him. “And I am a youkai as well, I will remind you.”
So… she wanted to scare him too?
Her lips curled into a smile. On anyone else it might have seemed warm. On a youkai facing a human, though… yes. Youkai truly were frightening, he decided.
Satori sighed suddenly, disappointment evident—as though he had answered incorrectly.
“You did,” she confirmed.
He frowned, confused. Hadn’t she just said he was supposed to be scared?
She didn’t respond at first. Instead, she studied him—quiet, intent, as though memorizing his face. Was she worried she would forget him, he wondered, faintly amused.
“Yes.”
As if that made any sense.
“It isn’t supposed to,” she replied. “Humans and youkai think in different ways, yes?”
While he tried to puzzle out what she meant, she gestured for him to take the chair in front of her desk. He sat. After a moment, she reached beneath the desk and retrieved a large bottle of red wine, setting it on the table with a soft clink.
[[Wine?|Choice 1]]Your head feels dizzy. Something about the wine didn’t sit right with you. “That’s fine. We were just finishing up here.” Satori says, She’s smiling at you, but the smile seems sad.
“It’s a strange feeling.” Satori says, looking you up and down. You aren’t certain what she’s looking at.
It’s just you.
“That is what I am looking at.” Satori says. You don’t understand.
You try to stand up, but trip over your legs. Something feels off. The room is spinning. You collapse onto the ground, but Satori is suddenly next to you, helping you up. When did she-
“Don’t try to rationalize it. It's fine. This is normal. You simply need to accept that.” Satori whispers into your ear. Her voice is calm as ever. For a moment, you feel yourself still, but something in your mind starts screaming for you to get away. How odd. Satori has only ever been kind to you.
Satori moves in front of you. Strangely, you are slightly shorter than her.
Wait. You're quite certain you are taller than her. That’s right, you even commented on it when you walked in, she’s-
Satori’s third eye glows.
You blink, and you find yourself at the door to your room. You are tired and need to go to sleep. You don’t even bother taking off your clothes, collapsing on your bed in a dreamless slumber.
<<if $tf == 3>><<set _path = "Full TF 1">><<else>><<set _path = "Ending 2">><</if>><<link "Sleep" _path>><</link>>…
When he woke, the room was quiet.
Satori sat beside his bed.
She looked up the moment his eyes opened, her expression unreadable. For once, his thoughts felt… clear. Calm. Like a storm had passed, leaving the air eerily still.
He took a slow breath.
[[You finally are able to comprehend your body|No TF 2]]Time passes.
You eat. You sleep. You curl at Satori’s feet and enjoy the soft pat of her hand.
Life becomes simple—idyllic, even.
No responsibilities.
No complicated human worries.
Just being her pet.
But ordinary animals don’t remain ordinary animals in the presence of youkai, especially not in a place with as storied a history as Old Hell.
One day, he had a thought, when looking at his master-
If I could stand up like her, would I be more useful to her?
And with that, he begin to change again.
Fur giving way to skin, paws stretching into hands, his posture returning toward humanoid shape.
New intelligence, or rather old intelligence returning, welled up in your mind, memories returning like fragile glass rising from deep water.
He remembered everything.
And instantly wished he didn’t.
“Oh gods,” he muttered, covering his face. “Did I really act like that as a dog…?”
Embarrassment at acting like an animal ate at him..
Part of him wondered if he should resent Satori. She did transform him into a dog, after all.
But…
He couldn't say he hated it.
Being looked after, protected, loved—Letting Satori handle anything troublesome…
It was nice.
Now that he's humanoid again, he was filled with an urge to repay her, to help her around the Palace.
He supposed he could understand Orin and Okuu a bit better now.
But there’s one thing that’s eating at him… or rather, Her.
“Why am I a girl?!”
She shouted it loud enough that Lady Satori winces from across the room.
When her humanoid form finally settled, in addition to the canine ears and tail, she noticed that her body had changed from how she originally once was.
Dramatically.
Her frame was undeniably feminine, curved and tapered in places it never was as a man. Her hair, which used to remain stubbornly short, now draped all the way down to her lower back, shaggy and itchy. Even her voice was a far cry from what it once was.
But the most glaringly obvious change were the two large breasts now hanging from her chest that made the issue impossible to ignore.
“I mean, seriously!” she whined in protest. “These things?! What am I supposed to do with—”
Orin glowered at her..
“Hey, I’m upset too! What the hell is with these things, huh?!”
Before you can react, Orin stomped up to her and grabs both of your full breasts in her hands, heaving them as you gasp.
“First Okuu, now you?! Why’d you two get so stacked while I got the short stick?!”
Orin says dramatically, one hand pointing at Okuu and her own sizable chest, while the other kneaded and prodded at yours.
Okuu, sitting peacefully nearby, merely tilts her head and shrugs.
“Both of you, settle down,” Satori says, voice weary as she tries to mediate things.
You huff.
“Satori!” You whine loudly, voice keening in an unfamiliar manner. “Why’d your collar have to turn me into a girl!”
Okuu blinked at the dog as Satori doesn’t respond.
“Eh? Weren’t you always like that?” A pause. “...Wait, who’re you again?”
You let your head drop dramatically, sighing. Your breasts jiggle as you do, much to both your and Orin’s irritation.
“…Forget it.” she mutters, as Satori eyes the collar still warmly attached to your neck.
“About that… if you dislike the collar, I can take it back. You’ll remain in this form regardless, but its magic has long since run its course.”
That wasn’t what she had asked… Though, she suspects Satori wasn’t going to answer about the collar.
Her smile made that abundantly clear.
Though she grumbles internally of the reminder of hernew form, she touches the collar gently.
Maybe, if Satori was asking this back when she first changed, and she had somehow remembered who she used to be before her happy days as Satori's pet, she might have asked her to. But now…
“…Nah,” you say. “It’s fine.”
Her tail wagged without her input.
“I don’t mind being your pet now.”
Ending 1
[[Want to see another fate for yourself? Click to start anew.|Intro 1]]His hair crawled—literally crawled—downward in silky strands, lengthening as if someone were pulling it from his scalp by the handful. The fading color was swallowed by a burning red, like embers catching flame and racing across each strand, leaving fire-colored hair in their wake.
His teeth ached.
Something clicked—then extended.
Two canines sharpened, pushing painfully into place as short fangs.
His ears rang sharply—then melted inward, vanishing entirely. For a terrifying moment, everything went deaf. Then two new ears sprouted atop his head, furred and alert, twitching at every sound. They heard too much. Whispers of laughing spirits flooded in, sharp and intrusive, scraping against his skull.
“Orin—Orin, what—what did you do to me?!” he tried to shout.
The words barely formed. His tongue was suddenly rough and speaking caused it to lash against his new incisors. What does come out is more akin to a high pitch screech than words.
“I—I don’t know!” Orin stared at him, wide-eyed. “I didn’t even know I could do this!”
“You attacked humans before!” he tried to demand. “What happened to them, then?!”
“I WAS BLUFFING!”
“Oh my god—”
His voice cracked, breaking into a small, involuntary, trembling “nyah—”
His spine arched suddenly as a sharp, electric pulse tore through him.
Something sprouted—no, grew—from the base of his spine, forcing itself insistently against the fabric of his pants until a long, sinewy tail burst free. Then it split in two, both tails curling behind him with instinctive, unfamiliar motion.
He felt like he was burning alive.
His body shifted in rapid, dizzying waves, reshaping itself as spine and flesh twisted and sculpted into a new form. Muscles redistributed, growing smaller—yet they felt denser, stronger than they ever had before. His face smoothed, features softening into something more delicate, more feminine, his frame following suit as the transformation tore onward without mercy.
His chest tingles—then swells—breasts rising softly under his shirt. Meanwhile, beneath his pants, he felt his manhood twinge pitifully as it shrank, tucking into his body and leaving a neat pair of folds in its place.
In the span of a breath, Orin is standing before a slightly smaller copy of herself. The spirits around him coo and swirl, delighted.
He let out one last pitiful nyah and collapsed.
[[Everything goes dark.|Ending 2-2]]He woke to the sound of Satori’s voice.
Orin had dragged him into her office, and Satori was scolding her with razor-sharp precision.
“There isn’t much I can do now,” Satori sighed. “The transformation has finalized. Whatever soul you had before is no longer human.”
Orin bowed her head. “I’m sorry…”
Satori looked at him for a long, unreadable moment.
“…You will be Orin’s twin sister,” she said at last.
His- her stomach flipped.
Her punishment followed immediately: Orin was to help her adjust.
And so she did.
She learned how to tend the furnace—how to read the restless moods of the vengeful spirits and nudge them back into order.
She learned to leap from railing to railing with startling ease, her new body understanding movements her mind hesitated to trust.
She learned to slip into a full cat form, to let the spirits lift her in flight, to sense souls by scent alone.
She learned faster than she ever thought possible.
Except, of course, the first time she came face to face with a human.
An outsider. Like she once was.
She cried—hard.
Her instincts screamed at her to act, but her heart shattered with every blow. The conflict tore her apart from the inside.
But eventually…
Instincts won.
The tears lessened.
Her movements sharpened—lighter, quicker, unmistakably feline. Her nature reshaped itself into something playful and curious, touched with mischief, though never quite as chaotic as Orin’s.
Whatever had once belonged to the human she’d been vanished, bit by bit.
Strangely, it didn’t bother her.
At some point, she truly accepted her new form.
A slightly less troublesome kasha.
Orin’s sister.
It could be worse, she supposed.
And strangely enough, that thought didn’t feel sad at all.
Ending 2
[[Want to see another fate for yourself? Click to start anew.|Intro 1]]She focused on her hand.
The skin looked soft—too soft.
Smooth in a way she didn’t remember earning.
Her fingers were long and slender, lithe where they should have been calloused from work.
Something about it felt… off.
Her nails caught the light.
Neat. Clean.
Not a single chip.
That couldn’t be right.
Hadn’t she damaged them earlier, cutting twine? Yes—she remembered cursing at the knife, as though it were somehow at fault—
A gentle clearing of the throat pulled her from his thoughts.
She looked up.
Satori was watching you, her expression unreadable for a heartbeat before a small, reassuring smile bloomed across her face.
Warmth settled in your chest.
Calm washed over you—quiet, heavy, all-encompassing.
She steered the moment back on track, her voice steady, guiding.
The way she looked at you was strange. Less like she was looking at her, and more like she was looking through her. You blinked, feeling your long lashes brush faintly against your cheek.
Something inside her twinged—a faint, uneasy spark—at whatever emotion lingered in Satori's gaze, but before she could give it a name—
“You like it,” Satori said simply.
And the thought dissolved.
Right. Of course.
She did like it. Why wouldn’t she?
Satori's smile widened just a fraction as she nudged your attention back toward the waiting wineglass.
“Go on,” she murmured, quiet but insistent.
You pick up the wineglass, ready to resume drinking.
<<set $ref1 to true>><<if $tf1 == true>><<if $tf2 == true>><<set _path = "Ending 4">><<else>><<set _path = "Choice 6">><</if>><<else>><<set _path = "Choice 5">><</if>>
<<link "But you find yourself drawn back to your delicate hand, again and again." _path>><</link>>...
I wake up.
I feel hungry.
I look for something edible.
I find something on the ground.
I put it in my mouth.
I'm not hungry anymore.
Time passes.
I meet someone.
They say something to me.
I say something back.
I don't remember who they were.
After a while, they leave.
Time passes.
I feel horny.
I sit down and move the cloth covering my needy spot out of the way.
I rub it for a while.
Liquid gushes out.
I don't feel horny anymore.
I feel tired.
I lie down.
I sleep.
The cycle continues again.
And now, there are two Koishis.
[[Want to see another fate for yourself? Click to start anew.|Intro 1]]The realization lands heavily.
You should probably be panicked. Or angry. Or have a thousand questions about everything going on.
But instead… you just feel tired. Sad, in a dull, aching way that seeps into everything.
“I should be furious,” you say softly.
“You would be,” Satori replies, “if we weren’t sharing emotional space.”
You blink. “So we’re sharing emotions, too.”
“We’re sharing everything.” Satori says, calm despite everything.
You absorb that slowly.
“…I see.”
Her hands—your hands—continue writing as if nothing monumental has happened, pen moving smoothly across the page. She multitasks with ease, thoughts filtering past yours without collision. It’s strangely comfortable, like two streams flowing into one river.
“What happens now?” you ask.
“Now?” She pauses briefly. “Now we exist like this.”
[[And so you do.|Ending 4-2]]Time passes.
You experience Satori’s life as she does—her duties, her conversations, her solitude. Sometimes you take control of the body for a moment, testing your presence, moving hands that still don’t feel entirely yours.
Some moments are awkward. Intimate in ways you never asked for, even though you technically had a similar body not long ago.
But it becomes easier.
Comfortable, even.
One day, you realize her thoughts are harder to hear.
“Satori?” you ask.
“I was about to say the same,” she replies. “But don’t worry.”
“Why?”
“It simply means that after being together this long… we’re beginning to think as one.”
A quiet ache settles in you.
“So… I’m losing you?”
She pauses.
“No,” she says softly. “You aren’t losing me.”
“…Then what?”
“We’ll just be the same.” No difference, between you and I.
The thought makes you sad, somehow.
“It’s the same for me. But it will be fine.”
You agree.
That day comes without ceremony.
Without pain.
Without fear.
One moment there are two of you, overlapping gently—
—and the next, there is one.
Satori Komeiji sits at her desk, pen moving smoothly across the page.
She feels… different. A little warmer. A little less sharp at the edges. Her dry wit softened, her solitude heavier than it used to be.
Lonely.
“Oh,” she murmurs to herself.
…Maybe that loneliness was where all of this began in the first place.
Ending 4
[[Want to see another fate for yourself? Click to start anew.|Intro 1]]You wake up to the sounds of a pen writing on paper.
Your breathing is steady. Your head doesn’t hurt. The panic is gone, smoothed away like it never existed. You glance down at your hand as it moves across the paper, writing neat, practiced characters.
You blink and realize you’re sitting at a desk.
Satori’s desk.
Your hand isn’t quite right.
“…That’s because it’s mine.”
You freeze.
“Lady Satori?” you ask instinctively.
There’s no response in the room. It’s empty besides yourself.
Instead, the voice comes from beside you.
No—
inside you.
Inside your thoughts.
You feel it then. A presence, occupying the same mental space as you with ease.
“I told you,” Satori says bluntly. “Something drastic.”
You swallow. We’re… sharing a body?
“Yes.” Satori says. She- you? continue to write the entire time. You feel the sensation of the pen in your hand, the strange unnaturalness of her third eye as it floats above your- her, heart. Your mind reels, sensation almost overwhelming if it weren’t shared with another.
“What happened to my body?” you ask.
Silence.
Then a memory surfaces—not yours, but shown to you with perfect clarity. Your body, lying still, fading gently, like mist dissolving in morning light.
[[Oh.|Ending 4-1]]She meets Satori in the garden.
It’s one of the few places in the palace where the noise thins out—where thoughts don’t crowd so tightly, where the air feels almost still. Lanterns glow softly along the stone paths, and pale flowers sway gently in the heat rising from below.
Satori is already there.
She doesn’t turn when she approaches. She doesn’t need to.
“This isn’t working,” Satori says at last.
She stops a few steps away.
“I know.”
The admission feels heavier than it should.
For a moment, neither of them speaks. The garden hums faintly with distant energy, but between them there is only the quiet pressure of unspoken understanding.
“You know why we’re both here,” Satori continues.
“…Yeah.”
Satori finally turns to face her. Her expression is composed, but there’s strain beneath it—tension she hasn’t let show in days.
“Will you submit willingly?” she asks.
The question is precise.
Submit.
She swallows.
“I can’t.”
Satori’s jaw tightens.
“The vitriol from the others,” she says, her voice low. “The oni. The spirits. The way they think about us—about you. I can hear it all now. All the time.” She presses a hand to her chest, feeling the steady thrum beneath her palm. She wonders, distantly, if she still has a heart. It feels like it, at least. “It’s too much. I can’t live like this.”
Satori’s eyes flash.
“You’ve barely experienced anything,” she snaps. “Not compared to her.”
She flinches.
But Satori exhales slowly, forcing herself back under control.
“…But that’s fine,” she says more quietly. “Soon, you will.”
Her muscles tense.
“Because Koishi did,” Satori continues, stepping closer. “She endured it—for a time. And I will give you her memories. And this time, it will end better.”
Her third eye aches faintly as Satori’s intent sharpens.
“And you’ll stay by my side,” Satori adds.
For a moment, her eyes soften. Just a little.
Enough to hurt.
“Please,” Satori says, her voice low. “This will be quicker and easier if you don’t fight back.”
[[Fight Back|Fight]] or [[Submit|Ending 8]]Her hands curl into fists at her sides.
“I won’t disappear just to make this easier for you,” she says.
The silence that follows is heavy.
Satori closes her eyes.
When she opens them again, the garden begins to glow.
Light gathers in the air as Satori rises. It seems things will be resolved the same way all things in Gensokyo are—through a danmaku battle.
She lifts off the ground to chase after Satori—too fast. The sudden motion yanks her stomach upward. She flails, then corrects, then overcorrects. The yellow dress snaps around her legs, the cords of her third eye tugging gently, almost instinctively, as if trying to stabilize her.
“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Satori says.
“And you think I did?” she fires back—and her voice sounds wrong to her own ears.
The first wave of danmaku erupts.
Crimson bullets fan outward from Satori in elegant, ruthless symmetry, spiraling through the lantern-lit garden like falling stars. They aren’t aimed to kill—she doesn’t think so, at least. It feels more like Satori is trying to wear her down. To exhaust her.
She yelps and jerks sideways, barely avoiding the first arc. Her body twists through the air with an ease she hasn’t earned—instinct carrying her through the motion. The floating eye whips around, tracking trajectories faster than her old human instincts ever could.
Her hands move.
Light answers.
Her own danmaku bursts free in a scattered spray—green and yellow shots that lack Satori’s precision but make up for it with frantic force. They collide midair with Satori’s, showers of sparks raining harmlessly into the garden below.
“What’s the point of this?!” she shouts, spiraling upward to avoid another converging pattern. Her heart hammers painfully against her ribs. “I don’t want to fight you! Just undo this!”
“That isn’t something that can be done so easily,” Satori snaps back, her third eye flaring bright.
Satori's thoughts slam against her—not a shove, but an invasion. Pressure blooms inside her skull as Satori tries to box in her mind the same way she’s boxing in her body. She gasps, clutching at her head as the world tilts.
She fires blindly.
“Isn’t this natural to you, at this point?” Satori says. “There is no reason to fight against this.”
She releases another spell card.
The garden explodes into structured chaos—rings of bullets unfolding like clockwork, closing in from every direction. There’s no obvious path through them. No safe gap.
Her third eye burns.
And suddenly, she sees it.
Not with her eyes—but with her mind.
The rhythm of the patterns. The intention behind each wave.
She slips through.
Her body twists through an impossible opening without hesitation, and for a brief moment she’s directly above Satori—close enough to see the strain etched into her expression.
She almost stops.
That hesitation costs her.
A grazing hit clips her shoulder, jolting her hard. Pain flares—sharp but brief—and she loses altitude, crashing awkwardly through the air before catching herself inches from the ground.
“You can’t keep resisting,” Satori says. Her calm voice belies the turmoil rippling through her mind. “This is for your own good.”
She hovers there, panting, arms trembling.
“Maybe,” she says hoarsely. “But I don’t want it.”
She launches upward again, gathering her energy, forming a spell not from instinct but from desperation. The shots that bloom from her are uneven, chaotic—but they’re hers. Messy. Emotional. Unrefined.
They force Satori to retreat.
For the first time, Satori looks genuinely startled.
“...Don’t make me finish this,” Satori says.
Her hands clench at Satori's words.
“Then don’t,” she answers.
Satori fires another spell card her way, and—
[[She fired a cheap shot, sending Satori crashing to the ground|Ending 7]]
[[She failed to endure Satori's onslaught|Ending 9]]She rises to meet her anyway.
Her own bullets scatter outward in hesitant bursts. She knows how to do this now.
But her thoughts are loud.
Too loud.
She hesitates. She overcorrects. She flinches from patterns she could have slipped through easily. Each mistake tightens something in her chest.
Satori watches everything.
Not just her movement—but her mind. Her doubt. Her grief. Her refusal to let go.
The danmaku shifts.
It becomes denser, not faster—forcing her inward, narrowing her options. Her heart pounds as she twists, ducks, spirals through shrinking gaps. The air hums with power, her third eye aching as it tries to track too many possibilities at once.
She doesn’t want this.
The thought screams through her.
Satori hears it.
“I know,” Satori says, her voice carrying clearly even over the crackle of energy.
The next wave leaves only one path forward.
She takes it—
—and misjudges.
The impact hurts in more ways than one. Beyond the physical pain, there is pressure collapsing inward, like her thoughts folding in on themselves. Her concentration shatters, and her danmaku sputters out mid-flight.
She falls.
She hits the ground hard. A human would have certainly died from the fall. She only feels sore. Her awareness dims at the edges, vision blurring as Satori descends to her level.
“It’s over,” Satori says softly.
She shakes her head, even as her body refuses to respond properly.
“No—wait—please—”
Her third eye flickers.
She feels Satori reach for her, but she can’t move away.
“I didn’t want it to be like this,” Satori whispers. “But you’ve left me with no choice.”
[[The world tilts.|Ending 9-1]]She doesn’t move when the answer comes.
A breath leaves her.
“…All right,” she says.
The words feel heavy as they leave her. Final, even.
Satori’s eyes widen—just a fraction.
She doesn’t want to fight. She doesn’t think she can win. And even so… maybe this really is for the best. Could a normal human even last in a place like Gensokyo?
Satori doesn't say anything, though a rush of relief runs through her mind. Guilt follows close behind.
“Thank you,” she says. She truly means it. “I promise… you won’t regret this.”
She nods. There won’t be anything left of her to regret it, after all.
Satori steps closer, raising a hand. The garden dims, colors softening as her power settles over her like a blanket. She feels Satori’s presence wrap gently around her mind—not invasive yet, just there. Waiting.
“I’m going to begin,” Satori says softly.
“…I guess this is goodbye,” she mutters.
“It isn’t,” Satori replies. “It will still be you.”
She thinks of the Ship of Theseus, and smiles.
…She’s already lost her body. Might as well lose her mind, too.
Maybe then things won’t feel so… off.
She takes a breath.
She thinks of the way her name used to sound.
Of hands that were hers, once.
Of a life that doesn’t fit anymore.
Satori’s third eye opens fully.
The world tilts.
The memories don’t vanish all at once. They loosen first—edges blurring, colors bleeding together. Her childhood feels distant, like a story she once heard. Faces lose their names. Names lose their meaning.
She reaches for one, just to be sure.
She fails to remember it.
Satori stays beside her the entire time, her third eye glowing steadily.
'This will hurt less if you don’t hold on', her mind whispers.
She stops holding on.
Something else rises to fill the empty spaces.
New memories—sunlight filtering through underground halls. Laughing with her sister. Drawing in a notebook. Watching over the animals.
Koishi’s memories slowly overwrite her own.
It doesn’t take long for her to disappear.
She forgets why she was afraid.
[[The garden fades entirely.|Ending 8-1]]Her thoughts scatter like startled birds, suddenly fragile, translucent. She tries to grasp onto something—her name, her face, her past—
Her memories begin to blur. Important things vanish, replaced by others.
She feels hands on hers.
Her thoughts slow.
The garden fades, melting into color. Edges lose meaning, bleeding together.
Satori’s face is the last clear thing she sees.
“I’m sorry,” Satori says.
She tries to answer.
She doesn’t remember what she was going to say.
Something slips.
Then something else.
And then—
There are memories now.
Lots of them.
Running barefoot through the palace halls.
Hiding behind corners just to see who will look for her.
Laughing when they don’t.
Laughing when they do.
She remembers being small.
She remembers being curious.
She remembers not caring very much about things that seemed to matter a lot to other people.
She remembers people being important to her whom she has never met.
She remembers the hatred others directed at her and her sister.
She remembers misery.
She remembers being happy with her sister, despite everything.
Something dissolves.
Something else settles neatly into place.
And then—
[[Koishi wakes up.|Ending 9-2]]
Koishi wakes up to find that she's on the floor. How did that happen? She could have sworn she went to sleep in her bed...
She glances to the right. Satori is standing over her.
“Oh,” Koishi says brightly. “Hi, sis.”
Satori freezes.
Then she exhales—a long, careful breath she has been holding for a very long time—and kneels beside her. Her hand hovers, uncertain, before resting gently on her shoulder.
“Koishi,” she says.
Koishi smiles.
“Yes?”
Satori’s eyes shine a little, but she doesn’t cry. She never really does.
She never elaborates on that day.
From that day on, life is… calm.
Koishi helps Satori with her work. Sometimes. It can be a little boring, so she often finds other ways to entertain herself. Recently, she discovered something great. It’s called masturbation. She found a magazine in one of the guest rooms that explained it, and she got hooked almost immediately. She even tried to invite her sister to join her, but Satori refused. Boring.
Koishi keeps up with her other hobbies too—drawing, mainly. She adds illustrations to her sister’s mystery novels.
Satori says Koishi’s drawings bring the stories to life. Koishi likes that.
Sometimes she sits beside Satori while she works through mysteries. She doesn’t always understand what Satori is explaining, but that’s okay. There are probably parts of Koishi that Satori doesn’t understand either!
One day, Koishi finds a bag tucked away in a corner of the palace. It doesn’t belong to her. She knows that immediately. It smells faintly of dust, travel, and something old.
She opens it.
There’s nothing special inside. Just ordinary things. Outside-world junk.
Still, her chest tightens.
Tears spill out before she understands why—hot and sudden, blurring her vision. She clutches the bag to herself, shaking, mourning something important.
Someone important.
But she can’t remember who.
Satori finds her like that.
She sits beside Koishi in silence, letting her cry it out. When Koishi finally looks up, confused and embarrassed, Satori wraps her arms around her and holds her close.
“It’s alright,” Satori says softly. “I miss him too.”
Koishi blinks up at her.
“Him?”
Satori pauses. Then Koishi hears a thought in her sister’s mind—a name that feels familiar.
“Koishi… please, don’t pry.”
…Well, whatever.
“Okay,” Koishi says. “Can I keep the bag?”
“Yes,” Satori replies. “If you’d like.”
Koishi hugs it to her chest and smiles, the sadness already drifting away.
There are so many interesting things to do today.
And tomorrow.
And the day after that.
She hums as she skips down the hall, violet cords trailing behind her in lazy heart-shaped loops, her sister watching her go—relieved, grieving, and loving her all at once.
Koishi doesn’t look back.
She’s happy, so why would she?
[[Want to see another fate for yourself? Click to start anew.|Intro 1]]It hurts. That makes sense—she is ripping a part of herself out and giving it physical form. One of Satori’s more eccentric acquaintances facilitates most of it.
But it works.
When it’s done, he stands there.
Confused. Breathing a little too fast as he looks around the chamber, eyes wide with wary curiosity. He looks at her, then at Satori, clearly trying to understand what either of them are.
His thoughts rush chaotically—unfocused, loud.
…Wow.
Was this really what she used to be like?
She glances at Satori—her sister now—and Satori nods.
“…Where am I?” he finally asks.
She recognizes the voice instantly.
He lives within the palace under Satori’s protection. He has nowhere else to go.
Neither of them really do.
At first, Koishi keeps her distance.
She’s careful with him—watching how he moves through the palace, how he reacts to Former Hell with the same mix of fear and fascination she once had. She sees her old habits mirrored back at her: his stubbornness, his curiosity, the way he lingers just a little too long over unfamiliar sights.
He looks at her often, brow furrowed, as if trying to place something familiar in her face.
She never tells him the truth.
Sometimes she resents him.
Sometimes she envies him.
Sometimes she watches him laugh at something stupid—something mundane—and feels an ache so sharp it nearly folds her in half.
But time keeps passing.
And slowly, something else begins to grow.
She notices how gentle he is with the animals, even though he can't hear them. How he listens when she explains things—not with awe, but with genuine interest. And it isn't fake, either. His mind proves that. How he smiles at her when he thinks she isn’t looking, as if her presence reassures him.
One day, she realizes she looks forward to those smiles.
She realizes his thoughts calm when she’s near. That he's come to trust her.
It frightens her at first.
Then, slowly, she accepts it.
Koishi falls in love—not with who she was, but with who he is now. A person untouched by what she lost. Someone she can protect, even if she couldn’t protect herself.
…It’s more than a little awkward when she realizes, 'Oh. That’s how Satori viewed me, isn’t it?'
It’s even more awkward when she realizes that Satori also likes this version of her just as much as she likes the one who became her sister.
Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for the two of them to agree to share him.
He is completely unaware of the arrangement. Naturally.
Koishi found that she was happy with life here. And she was looking forward to… trying out the real thing, when it comes to sex.
She only hoped that the actual Koishi didn't return home to make a mess of things…
[[Want to see another fate for yourself? Click to start anew.|Intro 1]]When awareness returns, she is sitting among the flowers, swinging her legs idly, humming something tuneless. The lanterns are pretty tonight. She wonders how long they’ve been there.
Satori stands nearby, watching her with careful eyes.
"Koishi."
Koishi looks up and smiles.
“Oh! Hi, sis.”
Relief breaks across Satori’s face—fragile and immense all at once.
“You seem happier,” Satori says.
Koishi tilts her head, considering.
“Am I? That’s good.”
Personally, she doesn’t feel any more or less happy than she did earlier today.
…Wait. What was she doing earlier today?
Her sister smiles. 'Nothing worth worrying about.'
Koishi frowns. That doesn’t sound right—losing memories would be bad.
Satori laughs softly. “I missed this.”
“But we do this all the time, though?” Koishi says.
Satori’s expression tightens, just a little.
Koishi feels like she’s missing something.
“Stay with me,” Satori says quietly.
…Well. She can figure that out later.
Koishi nods without hesitation.
“Okay.”
Somewhere far away, something is lost.
But Koishi doesn’t know anything about that.
[[Want to see another fate for yourself? Click to start anew.|Intro 1]]There are downsides to this life.
She used to be tolerated by the oni, after the initial hazing. Now they despise her.
She feels it the moment she draws near—the sharp, boiling hatred coiled in their thoughts. Not personal, exactly. Instinctive. The same loathing they reserve for Satori.
Because she can read them. Or rather, because she might read them.
Their minds are loud and cruel. Crowded with resentment and suspicion. When she passes by, their thoughts crash into her in waves, and sometimes it’s hard to breathe through it.
She tries to endure it.
She tells herself this is part of being what she is now, whether she likes it or not.
But some nights—when the palace is quiet and her thoughts are blissfully her own—she aches with something deeper than discomfort.
She misses who she was.
She misses being human.
Not the weakness or the fear. But the simplicity of it all. The way her thoughts used to belong only to her. The way the world didn’t press so closely against her mind.
She misses it more than she admits.
Later—after enough days pass that they blur together—she stops pretending she’s adapting.
Satori notices.
Of course she does.
One evening, Satori sits with her, listening—not to her thoughts, but to her silence. When she speaks, her voice is gentle.
“You’re grieving,” she says. “That’s natural.”
She doesn’t answer.
Satori tries to explain. To reassure her. To tell her that what she’s gained outweighs what she’s lost—that she is safe, that she belongs here now.
It doesn’t convince her.
The longing remains.
And so, eventually, Satori grows quiet.
Thoughtful.
She watches her more closely after that. Studies the way her thoughts snag and spiral. The way she lingers on memories that no longer fit the shape of her life.
She isn’t surprised when Satori decides to alter her memories as well.
After all—she had read her intentions building toward that moment.
Surpises and lies truly are worthless to a satori.
[[She meets her in the garden for the confrontation.|Story 7]]