In a world where there are more yokai than there are humans, death is uncommon. That isn't to say it doesn't happen; animals need to eat, outsiders are preyed upon by yokai that need human flesh, and older humans passed on from natural causes. Gensokyo is a small world, and with it, a small amount of death. This leaves Eiki ample free time to lecture people about their vices and how to improve them. When she does, they usually don't follow through, which leads to more lecturing. Outside of trying to help others, Eiki would occasionally give a day to reflect on her actions. Her ability to determine right and wrong and the crystal mirror that can reflect one's past allows her to judge herself without bias. The reason why she has been able to remain patient with people who haven't improved themselves is because she recognizes that she also does it as well.

Like everyone else, Eiki is a creature of habit. Her occupation as a yama made her well aware of this fact. She witnesses her past actions and sees all the errors she could have avoided. During these times of self-reflection, a sense of bitterness would stir her heart. She knows she can do better than this, but like anyone else, changing a habit or your way of behaving is a challenge that even gods struggle with. Whenever that feeling of inadequacy began to form, Eiki would change from her work uniform into a more casual attire and take a walk to gaze at the scenery.

Her walk eventually led her to the village. As she enters, Eiki notices something off. The humans didn't seem different, if quieter than usual, but the atmosphere tugged on Eiki's heart. Something wicked is taking root in the heart of this village. It's what she believed, but what she sees in front of her challenges that belief. They were all good people; not a single one of them deserved to go to hell. In her heart, Eiki should be soaring seeing this, but she couldn't let it slide. She recalled some of these people; she'd lectured them before, and their disinterest was palpable. There's no way they could have turned over a new leaf so soon. Can they?

"...Perhaps I'm being pessimistic." She tells herself. &quo

“Oh, it’s the same as last time?” she asked and immediately betrayed a most childish displeasure. It’s the sort that makes cheeks puff, lips curl, and eyes widen and turn to the heavens as if to highlight her suffering so that the universe would fully witness it. The act also highlighted her deathless youth, as the roundening of her facial features combined with her eternal pallor reminds a casual observer of a bright moon on a chilly winter night. The grains of rice that git stuck to her chin and around the corners of her mouth as she munched vigorously (despite the nominal protest) added some greyish-white contrast—their effect was not too dissimilar to lunar mare.

Such thoughts did not, of course, occur to the target of the complaint. She was much too used to her mistress’ peculiarities and, besides, was too busy concentrating on passing the remaining rice balls to her to think about much. Years of service, however, had trained the retainer to be attentive to the wants of her mistress. So an automatic question, one made without really thinking about the particulars of the situation, sprung forth from her lips, “Is it not to your liking, Lady Yuyuko?”

“It’s not a matter of whether or not it’s to my liking,” Yuyuko frowned, pausing from chewing her afternoon snacks. It was then that she noticed the errant grains of glutenous rice stuck to her face. There was no modesty on display as she picked them off with her fingers and then stuck them into her mouth. She let the individual grains roll around her tongue as if they were sesame grains. She, in fact, was thinking that the rice balls could have done with a touch of toasted sesame for texture’s sake. But she didn’t vocalize that complaint, since she knew it would only distract the girl. Yuyuko had long since lost track of the amount of times she had given what she felt were clear instructions only to see the girl fumble about.

It might be worth clearing up a little misconception before proceeding. Though the world at large sees the girl—her name is Youmu, incidentally—as an earnest servant and something of a personal attendant to the capricious Yuyuko that is just something that

Eirin Yagakoro has received many compliments for her competence in the medical field. Even before the start of Eientei, the lunar capital higher-ups have always held her in high regard. I still remember those moments when, even with their advanced intellect, those Lunarians were baffled by the rate at which the doctor managed to solve her cases. It’s no surprise that the commoners of the Human Village would often have their minds blown away by her, to the point that they accuse her of witchcraft. I heard that modern medicine was the closest thing the outside world had to magic, so those villagers were not wrong, in a sense.

Our time in Gensokyo had provided us with a long list of cases, many of which were basic complications that even a Lunarian rabbit like me could solve, more often than not there were cases where the presence of the doctor was very much needed, as without her, there would be no other individual that had enough experience to solve such cases. One of which, still hot in its trail, was the case of the ninth Child of Miare.

It was an interesting case. In a time when bodily damage was often caused by magic bullets, clients with real, natural sicknesses were deemed as slightly above average in terms of their severity. A twin-tailed little girl came at me during my duty hours. Her yellow apron, along with the red and white dress, was unharmed, with little bells adorning her hair. I thought about the likelihood of a human girl surviving in the Bamboo Forest of the Lost at that time, but the questions vanished as soon as I saw the daughter of Fujiwara in the corner of my eye. She greeted in formality before leaving the girl with me.

I leaned down from the registration desk, bringing my slender bunny ears to the girl’s height. “Hello there, young child. How can I help you?”

“Hello, Miss.” She bowed down. Her tone was one of unease, though, she tried her best to hide it. “This is Eientei, right? I heard that there’s a professional doctor here, I want to meet her in person.”

“Sure thing,” I pulled out a sheet of paper from the drawer and clicked the pen in my hand. “What’s the issue?”

The girl hesitated for a second. “I’m afraid it mi