"Did she get beaten to tears?" Rumia pointed at Remilia.
"Don't be ridiculous. Who got beaten to tears?" Remilia forced the moisture back into her eyes by sheer willpower.
With the anti-divine factor in play, that bonk hurt far worse than a sunburn. Losing a limb might not even compare.
"Here, eat some cat grass. Don't cry." Yimi grabbed a fistful of cat grass and stuffed it into Remilia's mouth.
Remilia spat out the grass immediately and glared at Yimi. "Humiliating your opponent—that really is your clergy's signature move."
"If you want to fight, hurry it up. Chasing us all the way to Gensokyo—did the outside world run out of demons for you to chase?"
"My Lady, I'm still here!" Sakuya drew her throwing knives.
"Hmph." Yimi eyed Remilia with displeasure.
She spat out cat grass. She wasn't a cool cat.
Yimi dismissed the spear and pulled out her gohei, poking Remilia with it. "Hurry up and hand over Reimu's daughter."
"?"
Remilia stared at the gohei in her hand. Traces of Reimu's aura still lingered on it. Calling it a powerful artifact would be a stretch, but as proof of being the Hakurei shrine maiden's representative? That much checked out.
Wasn't the intel supposed to be fake?
Sakuya picked up on the discrepancy. "My Lady, they don't seem to be here for you."
"Mm, but she IS the culprit behind this incident." A slightly detached voice came from behind. "That extra something sprouting everywhere—safe to say it originated from her."
"Patchy." At the sound of her friend's voice, Remilia scrambled to her feet and straightened up.
She glared at Yimi in warning. "Be careful—this one's an angel."
"An angel?"
Remilia's massive crimson mist and the commotion it caused—of course Patchouli had heard everything from this close.
Patchouli regarded Yimi through half-lidded eyes. "Dressed like the Black-White Rat, carrying a red-and-white stick—what an irritating getup. Are you here to steal books from me too?"
She lifted the brim of Yimi's hat and pinched the girl's cheeks, turning her face left and right. Homunculus? Flask-born construct? Any magician with half a brain would take one look at the newspaper and know something didn't add up.
But while Patchouli had dismissed the paper as rubbish when she'd read it that morning, now at close range she hesitated. Because this great magician—capable of refining a Philosopher's Stone—genuinely could not identify what kind of creature stood before her.
She recalled the morning paper: one photo showed Big Black-White leading Little Black-White by the hand. The other showed Black-White and Red-White walking hand in hand.
That mental image made Patchouli's lip twitch.
While Patchouli was examining Yimi's face, Yimi was touching Patchouli's belly.
Then she turned to Green Bug. "Is SHE Reimu's daughter?"
Patchouli: "?"
"Maybe?" Wriggle wasn't too sure.
"Are you blind?" Patchouli's response was not friendly.
"I roughly understand your intentions now. Please wait here a moment—we'll bring 'Reimu-san's daughter' out shortly." Sakuya suddenly deployed the devious wisdom of an adult.
Remilia looked at her, confused.
Sakuya discreetly raised a finger to her lips—shh.
Just as Patchouli had been drawn here, that massive red mist should have caught Reimu's attention too. Whatever reason the brat had for starting an incident, it was their own family business—let them sort it out themselves.
"You're lying. Why should we trust you?" Wriggle stepped forward to object.
"I'll also prepare some candy as refreshments for our guests." Sakuya replied without missing a beat.
"Candy?" Wriggle turned and tugged Yimi's sleeve. "She makes a great point. Let's wait here."
But the kitten wasn't that gullible. "If she doesn't show up, we won't even get candy."
"Right—you need to leave a hostage!" Wriggle pointed at Patchouli, who had appeared out of nowhere. "Her. She'll do."
"Hah?" Patchouli raised an eyebrow.
Wriggle kept churning out terrible ideas. "This is where we each pull out a poison ring and chain it to her heart."
No telling where she'd picked that up.
"Impossible... Why do you suddenly think you've won?" Remilia rose again, one hand still rubbing her head. "The situation has shifted back in our favor."
"It's fine, Remilia. Your head's probably still throbbing." Patchouli waved her off. "I happen to have some questions for this brat anyway. Just go back with Sakuya—you'd probably find the academic discussion boring."
"Patchy... you're technically a witch too, you know. How can I hand you over to clergy?"
"Why would you think a kid like this qualifies as clergy? She didn't go for the kill just now, did she?" Patchouli replied flatly. "Besides, I can't ask questions comfortably with you all hovering. Sakuya, take her back."
"Understood, Patchouli-san." Sakuya scooped up Remilia, whose head was still ringing, and sprinted toward the mansion.
"Wait—whose maid are you, exactly?!"
Once they were gone, Patchouli crouched to a vantage point just below Yimi's eye level, face blank.
Both hands pinched Yimi's cheeks. She skipped straight past the cat grass mechanics. "As a creditor, I feel obligated to at least ask this much: Black-White, Red-White, and you—what exactly is the relationship between the three of you?"
"Relationship? Hmm..." Yimi counted on her fingers, couldn't work out Marisa and Reimu's relationship, and just turned to Wriggle instead. "Why is she asking that?"
Dependency on the military advisor: activated.
Wriggle shook her head. "Dunno. Probably has a secret crush on one of them. Mystia once told me humans have stories like that."
"Don't make stuff up right in front of me." Patchouli straightened up with a cold snort. "Marisa stole a lot from me. I haven't even gone to collect yet."
Wriggle leaned into Yimi's ear and whispered: "Confirmed crush."
"Crush?" A word the kitten didn't know.
"Shut up! Cough! Cough cough!" She'd gotten worked up and nearly forgotten about her frail constitution.
Patchouli pressed a hand to her chest and steadied herself. "I'm simply concerned about the Black-White Rat's financial situation. If she marries someone as destitute as Red-White, she might sell my grimoires to get by."
Wriggle raised her hand. "Which grimoire did she take?"
"Why would I tell you?" Patchouli glared, not wanting to engage with this annoying brat.
Wriggle continued her whispered analysis to Yimi. "She can't even remember which book. Definitely making excuses for being the other woman. Let's just grab her and use her to threaten Red-White's wife."
Idiots sometimes display brilliant insight in the strangest places.
"Ooh." The kitten sucked on her finger, not understanding a single word.
"Wife? The other woman?? Cough cough! Rotten bug, are you done spouting nonsense?! She stole too many books—I literally can't keep track! Cough—" Patchouli formed an elemental magic circle between her hands.
"How come she's suddenly mad? Isn't she a hostage?" Rumia took a step back.
Wriggle ducked behind Yimi and pointed. "See? Stolen that many books and still hasn't gone to collect. If that's not a crush, what is?"
"You— cough cough cough! Cough cough—"
Past her limit, Patchouli charged up a magic cannon and blasted it straight at them.
Wriggle yelped, grabbed Yimi's head, and hit the deck.
"Alright, alright!"
A familiar voice suddenly rang out from behind and swatted the magic blast into the sky.
Reimu had just arrived. She surveyed Patchouli and the girls at her feet with dead-fish eyes.
"No idea what's going on here, but is the Scarlet Devil Mansion behind this incident? Guess you're next, Mukyu."
"Who's Mukyu— cough cough cough—" Too angry to finish a sentence.
"Reimu!" Yimi hurriedly hid the gohei behind her back and moved to plead her case.
Wriggle blocked her. "That's against the rules. Tradition says the incident-maker has to be the final boss. You need at least... four or five people in front of you."
"Is that so?" The kitten delivered Rumia's line, then patted Patchouli on the shoulder. "We'll leave this to you, then."
Patchouli: "?"
They turned and bolted toward the Scarlet Devil Mansion, leaving Patchouli coughing alone.
"I knew that brat couldn't pull this off by herself. Bring it, Mukyu!"
Stage 2 Boss: Patchouli.
"?"
Wasn't I a hostage?