Project: Border Crossing

[3rd person? POV]

A child, unfamiliar with this world, has taken the life of one of its residents…

Fufufu.

How very interesting.

He was cornered. Broken. Bleeding.

And yet—he fought back.

Even with one arm lost, he chose to struggle. He clawed his way forward rather than give in to despair.

How amusing.

Perhaps… I should have placed him somewhere safer.

Ah, hindsight. A dull little thing.

No matter.

Let's see… yes, the little shopkeeper should be passing through that area soon. Fortune smiles when it is nudged in the right direction.

As a gesture of apology—and a reward for surviving—I'll shift the winds in his favor, just slightly. Let him meet someone less inclined to eat him this time.

And perhaps…

Perhaps it's time to let Reimu-chan know. She does get irritable when surprises wander near the village.

"Child... no—Shiro,"

"Let's see how far you'll go."

"Do entertain me a while longer."

[1st Person POV]

I wake up in a bed.

Am I alive? Was it all a dream?

I try to roll over, but the moment I move, a sharp pain in my shoulder answers for me. No—it wasn't.

I glance down.

My left arm is gone.

Just... gone.

In its place is a thick roll of bandages, faintly stained with dried blood. A dull ache pulses beneath the wrapping. My heart sinks.

So it really happened.

I push myself up with my remaining arm and take in my surroundings. The room is small but crammed—like a thrift store threw up in here. Shelves overflow with items that shouldn't be together: a rusty clock radio next to an ancient scroll, a Game Boy balanced on a stack of old books, a cracked CRT TV blinking static in the corner.

Where the hell am I?

Before I can make sense of it all, I hear footsteps.

A man enters. Silver hair tied back, sharp golden eyes, a towel slung over his shoulder. He looks more like a tired librarian than a warrior or doctor.

"Ah, you're awake," he says, setting a bowl beside me.

"Where… am I?" I mumble.

He crouches, inspecting my bandages with clinical precision—like he's checking a chipped tea cup.

"You're in my shop. Kourindou. I found you unconscious and bleeding in the forest. Lucky I was nearby."

"Kourin...dou?"

"A secondhand shop," he replies, standing up. "I collect and sell things—mostly from the Outside World. And I'm Rinnosuke. Rinnosuke Morichika."

"…Outside?"

He raises an eyebrow. "You're from there, aren't you?"

I don't answer right away.

"You're in Gensokyo now," he continues, pulling up a chair. "A sealed-off land on the edge of reality. A place where myths, spirits, and forgotten things end up."

"Things?"

"People. Youkai. Gods. Ideas. Anything that no longer belongs in your modern world... it drifts here."

"…Okay," I mutter. "That's... kind of insane."

"You're telling me," he says flatly. "I've lived here most of my life and I still don't understand half of it.

"I rub my face with my good hand. "So what, I just got spirited away into Fantasyland?"

Rinnosuke shrugs. "More or less. People like you usually end up here by wish or accident. Maybe both."

Then it hits me—the shrine, the capsule, the slip of paper.

The wish.

"I... might've made a wish," I murmur.

"Well," he gestures to my missing arm, "you got it. With interest."

"You don't say…"

I sigh and glance at him. "So this is Gensokyo. Land of myths, monsters… and guys with radios next to grimoires."

He doesn't flinch. "I'm half-human. And a shopkeeper. That's the part that matters."

I eye the shelves. "You sell broken radios and umbrellas with teeth?"

"I sell what people need—when they need it. Like someone missing an arm, lost in the woods, and clearly out of his depth."

"…Do you have a map?"

He nods. "Possibly."

"But not for free, I assume?" I dig through my bag, wincing at how little I have.

He eyes my wrist. "That watch."

I glance down. Still ticking. Digital face, cracked screen.

"This? It's not much."

"It works, doesn't it?"

"Well, yeah."

"And it's from the Outside World?"

"…Technically."

He extends his hand like a surgeon asking for a scalpel. "I'll take it."

"…Seriously?"

"I'm curious. Functioning timepieces are rare here."

I hesitate, then unstrap the watch and hand it over. He inspects it like it's a museum piece.

True to his word, he rummages through a drawer and pulls out a rolled-up parchment. The ink is faded, but the detail is impressive.

"The roads shift, and don't trust the forest," he says, handing it to me. "But the Human Village should still be roughly here."

He taps a small symbol.

"You'll find food, people, and probably more answers there. And if you're lucky, you'll run into the shrine maiden."

"Shrine maiden?"

"Reimu Hakurei. She maintains the border between this world and yours. Or, she's supposed to."

"She sounds important."

"She is. But unless something explodes, she's unlikely to care."

"So I just need to make a loud enough mess."

"...Please don't," he groans.

The next hour passes in preparation. I rewrap my shoulder and use cloth from a spare shirt for padding. Rinnosuke lends me a sling bag—stained and worn, but usable. I pack the essentials: bandages, some dried food, a flask of water, and the map.

Not much. But it's something.

"You won't last long if another youkai shows up," he warns.

"I didn't last long the first time," I mutter. "But I learned something."

"Oh?"

"Don't trust cute girls in the forest."

He gives me a long, deadpan stare. "Better lessons have been learned worse ways."

I shoulder the bag and make my way to the door.

"Hey," I pause before stepping out. "Thanks. I mean it."

Rinnosuke doesn't look up—he's already examining the watch with quiet fascination.

"Try not to die," he says.

***

Back in the forest. Again.

The first experience? That was novel.

Terrifying, yes. But novel.

The second time? The novelty's already fading.

The trees still loom, tall and suffocating. Shadows shift just a little too deliberately. The wind howls like something laughing through clenched teeth.

This time, though, I'm prepared. Sort of.

My shoulder's bound tight under layers of cloth. A sling keeps my balance awkward but manageable. The pain's dulled into a steady throb—enough to remind me I'm alive, but not enough to stop me.

Rinnosuke's map is folded and tucked into my bag, beside what little food I have left. I keep my eyes on the ground, tracking faint paths, broken twigs, footprints that might be mine… or something else's.

The forest watches.

And I walk anyway.

Because what's the alternative? Curl up and wait to die?

Been there. Done that.

Didn't work out so well.

Still, I keep my pace steady. Head low. Eyes sharp. Not like I have much choice. The Human Village won't find me—I have to find it.

Occasionally, I mutter to myself.

Not because I'm crazy.

Okay—maybe a little crazy.

But it keeps me focused.

"No more random demon girls. No more bleeding out. No more sandwiches wasted in desperation."

I sigh.

"…Man, I miss that sandwich."

A noise cuts through the silence. A crunch. A low growl. Something wet.

I freeze.

This again?

Slowly, I crouch near a tree, holding my breath. My hand reaches for the makeshift knife I sharpened this morning. I'm not planning to fight, not unless I have to—but having something solid in my hand makes the panic feel a little smaller.

More rustling. Closer.

Whatever it is, it's not alone.

Of course not.

Because nothing here travels solo.

Not unless it's already eaten the rest.

Okay. Calm down.

I don't need to fight it this time.

Just run.

Running worked before.

Rustle.

I tighten my grip on the crude knife I made—scrap metal wrapped in cloth, barely holding together.

Not ideal. But it's something.

One.

I shift my stance, trying not to breathe too loud.

Two.

Shadows gather. Figures slip between trees like oil on water.

Three—I see them.

Humanoid, but wrong. Their faces blur like smeared paint. Their limbs move too smoothly, too quietly. Their eyes gleam yellow, pupil-less and unblinking.

Four of them. Maybe five.

Too many.

They don't speak. They don't hiss. They watch.

I start backing up. "Okay, okay, I get it," I mutter. "You don't want me here. Message received."

They twitch forward.

I stumble.

Snap.

They charge.

And then—BOOM—!

A shockwave of blinding light tears through the canopy. Golden charms whirl through the air, slamming into the creatures with explosive force. The air ripples with spiritual energy.

Something lands in front of me with a flutter of red and white.

A girl—no, a young woman. Maybe my age. She's dressed like a shrine maiden, but with sleeves that float and hair ribbons that sway like they've got a life of their own.

Her gaze is sharp, cold. Not cruel—just tired.

With a flick of her wrist, more ofuda fly out and ignite midair, sending the remaining youkai scattering in smoke and sparks.

Then—"Laser Sign: Master Spark!"

A thunderous beam of light obliterates the treetops as a second girl flies into view—on a broom. She's cackling like this is fun.

Blonde, reckless, eyes full of wild joy.

The forest goes silent again.

I'm left blinking in the aftermath, ears ringing, heart racing.

The shrine maiden turns and eyes me warily.

"You don't look local," she says flatly.

I shake my head slowly. "Uh… no. Very not local."

The girl with the broom hovers nearby, lowering her flight."

Another outsider?" she says. "Huh. Haven't had one of those in a while."

"Who—who even are you people?" I stammer, still gripping my knife like it'll help.

The red-and-white girl narrows her eyes. "Reimu Hakurei. Shrine Maiden of the Hakurei Shrine."

"And I'm Marisa Kirisame, ordinary magician. Don't worry, we're the ones who don't eat humans."

I exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding and collapse onto my knees.

For a moment, no one speaks.

Then I look up, still panting."…Is this what normal looks like around here?"

Marisa smirks. "Oh, you have no idea."