Snow fell in sheets in the cold village streets. In the dark of night under the snow coated willows. When all the good little villagers had their heads on their pillows. One lone figure had her head held high as she strolled by the river. She strode through quiet night without a single shiver. The youkai was not dressed for the weather, but she had a destination in mind. With her supernatural resilience she was making good time. There was something in the air, under the shadows of the trees that night. She was oh so full of cheer, as she went by the roads covered in white.

Soon she found herself in the forest of the lost. She looked for something between the bamboo stalks layered in frost. A humble little home, hidden away by snow. The youkai brushed off her head and gave it a throw. Inside the home came a loud yelp. Woken from her sleep the resident cried out, “Help!” The disembodied head gave a stern glare as her body followed inside. The home’s resident could be called a human if one wanted to misguide, but in truth she was a youkai.

“It’s midnight, what the hell are you doing in my home?” Said the human like youkai, half surprised and half annoyed. Then she sneezed, too quick for the severed head to avoid.

The dullahan put her head back on her shoulders, “You missed our last meeting, by the lake that’s always getting colder.” She looked at the loup garou who seemed to be falling over. “Are you sick, or do you have a hangover?”

At these words the bedridden woman took a deep breath, and shouted, “Werewolves can’t get sick! I refuse to believe it, not one bit!” She spoke with a raspy voice. All this left the rokurokubi with no choice.

“It’s true that youkai don’t get illnesses that affect the body, but you’re only a full youkai once a month unlike everybody.” With a frown, then a shrug, she had decided and would not tug. “You can’t come to our end of the year party. Maybe things would be different if you were more hearty.”

“Wait, I can still come, I’ll tough it out. When I show up tomorrow you won’t have any doubts.” The werewolf pleaded, but it was to late, her friend had already retreated. And so she stared at her ceiling in the lull, wondering how she would fix the hole in her door left by a wayward skull.

Meanwhile Sekibanki was wondering how her fellow youkai would fare. She had a good head on her shoulders and plenty to spare. With all that brainpower she had an idea. The next morning she sent her heads everywhere. To the mountain and the lake. To the forest filled with snowflakes. To the temple and the underground. All throughout Gensokyo her heads were abound.

Later that night as one year would soon change to the next. The half-wolf sat alone, and was quite vexed. She heard a knocking at the broken door, and to her surprise, youkai, humans and gods of yore were standing, there at her door. Her friends and rivals brought food and games. They drank and partied without any aim. The sick werewolf was starting to feel better. Surrounded by her drunk friends, wearing someone else’s sweater. She knew that the illness which troubled her would soon go away. Just like the year of yesterday. So she sat by her many red headed buddy and cracked a smile.

“Happy new year.”

>>2055
I forgot a picture so have a random banki.

>>2055

Sorry. Half asleep. Thought it was a different thread. Didn't intend to respond as if you.