"—st Daughter."

Tenshi groaned as the red haze cushioning her mind thinned just enough for her to feel the bone-crushing agony of her broken body. She was cold inside out, like she had been carved from stone. With great effort, she forced her eyes open to see a blurry, but vaguely familiar figure.

"...At least you're alive, then." The figure was speaking more to itself than to Tenshi, its voice weary. "Of all the reckless things..."

A cool hand brushed lightly across Tenshi's clammy forehead. Tenshi kept her eyes open long enough to see the figure stare at its hand and wipe it on the ground with a shudder, then allowed herself to sink back into the haze.

When she next came to, she was lying where she had last found herself, feeling as wretched as before. She groaned again, this time with purpose. As much as it felt like the knot in her stomach had spread across her entire body and was now trying to grind her remaining muscles and bones into a fine powder, there was no reason to remain still if the pain wasn't about to shift anyway.

First, she wanted to know if the person who had come to her rescue was who she thought it was — and, if she was honest with herself, who she hoped it was. Again, she cracked her eye open.

The figure was still there, and drew closer. "Can you hear me?"

"Sure..." Tenshi's brow furrowed with equal parts effort and frustration. No matter how hard she squinted, she couldn't rid herself of the thin film of red before her eyes that made everything appear as if through coloured glass. "It hurts."

"I should think so." Something about the tone made Tenshi wonder if 'think' meant 'hope'.

The figure drew a deep breath. "Please endure this for a moment longer."

Soon, a silken cloth wiped Tenshi's face clean, ginger around the eyes. The next time Tenshi focused, she could see Iku's crimson eyes and impassive expression clearly. Something was off, but she couldn't put her finger on it. It was too difficult to focus.

She grunted. "So, it was you."

She had never heard Iku as much as raise her voice, even when she had been ticked off enough to strike Tenshi with thunderbolts, but right then her eyes were signalling a long string of unuttered swears.

Iku brought her free hand to her forehead and briefly closed her eyes before responding. "You've been gone for three days. Your parents sent everyone with non-pressing duties to search for you this morning." Iku looked away and folded the bloodied cloth in a matter-of-fact way, careful to avoid the stains.

Three days? Had she really been out of it for that long? Tenshi tried to push herself up, but nothing larger than her fingers obeyed her.

Iku blinked. As Tenshi's eyesight faltered again, she reached for something lying on Tenshi's chest and picked up a thin, rectangular object. There was a rustle of paper.

"What on heaven and earth..."

Tenshi struggled to prop herself up with her elbows and failed. She then tried re-opening her eyes, and did better. "What is it?"

"A letter from Yuuka Kazami to Reimu Hakurei. '...I hope you can overlook this indiscretion, with the understanding that the other party struck the first blow...' After that, there's a drawing of a heart." Iku lowered the letter and stared. "What did you do this time, Eldest Daughter?"

"Some gardening," Tenshi mumbled.

"Fine." Iku folded the letter, and after a moment of hesitation, tucked it into Tenshi's unresisting hand. "I think you should hold onto this for now."

Tenshi curled her fingers around the letter, glad she could at least do that much. "What happens next?"

This time, the silence stretched on for a long time. Tenshi squinted to make better sense of Iku's expression but to no avail.

"I suppose I ought to take you home." Iku finally said, sounding none too pleased at the prospect. "Can you sit up?"

"No."

"I was afraid of that. It's a miracle you weren't claimed by the shinigami in that condition." Iku sighed deeply.

It was then that Tenshi figured out what had been bothering her. Iku looked exactly like when she had last seen her — which had been immediately after the blood incident. If anything, she looked worse: her skin had taken on an eerie grey tint, and her eyes had bruise-like dark circles around them.

Tenshi stared, waiting for the telltale signs of an incoming retch, until Iku continued: "What possessed you to do something as foolhardy as this?"

"None of your business," Tenshi muttered, and immediately the pain was joined yet again by its good friend nausea.

Iku's expression, already cold, could now have been carved from ice. "You're right. Please forgive my indiscretion."

Tenshi felt what little remained of her blood boiling, while simultaneously jostled by the cold waves of sickness.

"You're making this worse," she spat through gritted teeth.

Iku raised a solitary eyebrow. "Shall I leave you here to wait for a reaper, then?" Before Tenshi could respond, she continued: "As unpleasant as you find my company, I can hardly leave you here like this."

Any other day, Tenshi would have rebutted with the haughtiest insult she could've come up with. She opened her mouth for one when a chilly realisation struck her. She was dizzy, aching all over where it didn't sting instead, and lying on what felt like drying mud, unable to stand.

If Iku left, she really might perish.

"It's not like that," she said in a quiet voice. "It's just when I think about you, I feel sick."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It hasn't always been like this. It's just—" How was she supposed to explain something when she didn't even understand it herself? "I did this because of you, alright?"

Iku stared at her like she had suddenly sprouted horns. She closed her eyes and squeezed them shut.

After a long pause, she re-opened them and said: "If it's not too much to ask, Eldest Daughter, how does you having yourself beaten to a pulp relate to me in any way, apart from where it causes me additional work?"

"I didn't mean it like that!" Tenshi felt like screaming. She threw her head to the side and was rewarded with a new stab of pain. "Just forget it!" she hissed, doing her hardest not to sound strangled.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Iku tilting her head ever so slightly to the right.

"...If you can't fly by yourself, I suppose I will carry you." Iku said after long pause to end all long pauses. "It may jostle your wounds somewhat, but please endure it."

"...All right." Tenshi did her best not to complain as Iku pulled her upwards and hoisted her against her shoulder, as much as the sudden movement rekindled the burning ache in her bones. A deep scrape in her knee struck against Iku's leg, sending sparks of pain shooting up her spine. The world went black.

When she came to, she was back on the ground. A small wound on her arm had been agitated by the lift and was bleeding again, but it seemed harmless enough. She couldn't see the cut on her knee, but the intense throbbing was fading away.

Grimacing, she turned her head. To her surprise, she found Iku sitting curled up next to her, shielding her eyes from the sunlight.

"Iku?"

Iku took a deep, laboured breath, still not moving. "My apologies, Eldest Daughter. It appears the exertions of the day have caught up with me."

"What do you—" Tenshi swallowed the rest of the question. Of course, it was possible Iku was sick in some unrelated way, but the most logical reason for her malaise was also one Tenshi really didn't want to think about. All the same, Tenshi racked her brain trying to remember what the book had said, but in vain. It had mentioned that permanent damage was unlikely, hadn't it? Had there been anything about lingering effects?

"It will pass," Iku said firmly. "I simply need a moment to regain my bearings."

Even as she spoke, Tenshi could tell she was lying: a thin film of sweat had risen to her face, and her skin was greyer than ever.

"It's fine," Tenshi heard herself say. "I'm not going to die this very minute."

Iku made no response apart from a small nod. She swayed in place.

Tenshi sighed, and could practically feel what little energy she had to spare escape with her breath. Most of it was going to her celestial constitution mending her broken bones, something which was usually a blessing, but in her ravaged state left her feeling like a gutted fish.

Laboriously, she turned her head towards Iku and squinted. "...I got blood on your raiments."

"...As long as it's not on my skin, it's fine."

"No." Tenshi swallowed. "It isn't."

"Good."

"No, I didn't mean it's not on your skin. I meant..." It was like when she had first attempted to raise a giant boulder, back before her ascension. "I meant I should have made sure the blood wouldn't hurt you first."

Iku nudged her head slightly upwards. Her eyes were narrow, but her expression was more confused than hostile.

Tenshi tilted her head to look at the clouds. She was starting to feel light-headed, but she forced her eyes to stay open. There was more she had to say.

"Iku..." she managed. Either her ears weren't working right, or her voice was thinner than air.

Iku nodded again, so minutely Tenshi half thought she had imagined it.

"I'm..." Tenshi sucked air in through her teeth. It had been centuries since she had last said what she meant to say, and even longer since she had truly meant it. "I'm...I'm sorry."

She waited, feeling lighter than she had felt in months.

There was no response.

Mustering all her energy, Tenshi reached to her side and grazed Iku's arm. Still nothing. Peering at her face more carefully, Tenshi saw she was either asleep or dead.

It can't be helped, Tenshi thought as she stopped resisting and allowed her mind to sink back into the inviting darkness behind her eyes. If only she had...

Tenshi woke up on a sub-standard futon. Her bones, while still aching, had mended considerably, and as she saw no flowers, clearly she had managed to elude death. Nice.

As she lay still, pleased with herself, reality slowly began to drift in. Where was she, exactly? If this was back in Heaven, the place sure had gotten a lot shabbier in the meanwhile. And — the last of her good mood evaporated — what had become of Iku? She tried to piece together what little halting conversation they had had before she had fallen unconscious, to no avail.

In a rising panic, she raised her head, only to discover Iku asleep by her side.

"Oh." With an audible creak, followed by a hiss of pain, she sat up to peer at Iku's face. She was breathing — so far, so good — and though it was difficult to say for sure in the scant light, Tenshi's superior eyes told her Iku's complexion was much closer to normal than before.

She was just about to shake Iku awake and demand to know where on earth they were, when she heard voices speaking from beyond the door.

Finding her belongings by her side, she got dressed, noticing for the first time someone had rather clumsily wrapped her messed up limbs in gauze. Donning her hat, which still had some flecks of mud on it, she stood up, and though her bad leg made her wobbly, made her way to the door without incident. She slid it open just enough to peer into the bright room on the other side.

"It's not much to ask for," said Reimu Hakurei with a huff, sitting in a less than lady-like way next to an old table, haphazardly darning a sock. For a moment, Tenshi thought she was addressing her, but her eyes were fixed onto something beyond Tenshi's sight.

"Oh, come on." A somewhat slurred, and decidedly familiar voice spoke from what Tenshi assumed was the porch. She opened the door another inch to catch a glimpse of a familiar figure with a pair of horns and long, orange hair lying on her back on the floor, a purple gourd in hand.

"I told you I'd take a bottle as compenshation," Suika Ibuki continued, grinning slyly despite her slurring.

"That doesn't mean I'm happy with you taking the one I was saving for Obon!"

Suika chuckled. "Should a shrine maiden even celebrate Obon?"

"Yes. It's a great excuse to drink." Reimu turned her head and saw Tenshi staring at her. "Oh. Which one are you? From what I see of you, you could be either."

Tenshi slid the door fully open with a loud slam. "Are you kidding me?"

Reimu narrowed her eyes. "Oh, great. I was hoping for the messenger." She placed the sock carefully on the table before getting up. "If you're well enough to walk, you might as well have your breakfast at the table."

She stepped into another room, leaving Tenshi with no answers and an urge to smash things. Still, to appease her hollow stomach, she stumbled into the larger room and sat by the table. After what felt like a week of involuntary fasting, even the ashen food of Earth would be tolerable.

"Heeey, Tenshi." Suika waved at her lazily without getting up, speaking more clearly than before. "You're heavier than you look."

"You carried me here?"

"You and Iku both. Reimu bribed me. Said she didn't want to risk dropping you with you half dead and all." Suika turned her head upwards so that Tenshi could see her face and winked. "Invite me next time you party that hard."

Before Tenshi could respond, Reimu returned and slammed a pair of chopsticks and a bowlful of white rice with a single sad pickle on top in front of her.

"It's all we've got. Take it or leave it." She sat back down and grabbed the sock. Despite her words, both her tone and expression were mild, and she continued mending the sock with what was almost a smile.

Tenshi grabbed the chopsticks, only to discover that despite her growling stomach, she suddenly had no appetite. "How is Iku?"

Reimu looked up and scrutinised her silently before responding. "Much better. I'm no doctor, but she should be fine."

Relief flooded into Tenshi. She nodded, then dug into the food. As rotten as it tasted, she could feel more of her strength returning with every bite.

"After you're done with that, you will tell me what happened, from beginning to end, " Reimu continued without looking up from her darning. "I have to know if this is connected to a larger incident."

Tenshi paused with a clump of rice midway into her mouth. "Didn't you get the letter?"

"That only explains why you were pummelled. Which, for the record, is something I can't really blame Yuuka for. This looks about as good as I can make it," she added, addressing Suika, showing her the mended sock.

Suika shrugged against the floor. "Hey, it's yours anyway. If you're happy with it, it's done."

"Then it's done." Reimu returned her attention to Tenshi. "You'd better start now, actually. I have plans for today."

"No you don't," Suika laughed. Reimu pointedly ignored her and kept her eyes on Tenshi.

Tenshi stared down at her half-finished breakfast. She wasn't sure she even knew where to begin, but she wasn't about to admit that.

"It really had nothing to do with Gensokyo," she said.

"I'll be the judge of that."

Tenshi glared at her, then sniffed haughtily. "If you want to interrogate someone, ask Iku instead."

"Fine. So, what happened?"

Tenshi opened her mouth to snap at her before realising Reimu's eyes were directed at something behind her. She turned to see Iku, still greyer than Tenshi had thought her to be in the dim light, but up-right and very much alive, her expression inscrutable.

"An entire week..." Though Iku's tone was mild, her forehead was lined with worry.

"Yeah." Tenshi waved her legs over the porch. After breakfast was over, and after she had been given Iku's word (Tenshi's apparently wasn't good enough for her. Bah.) that their condition had nothing to do with a large-scale conspiracy which required her intervention, Reimu had installed the pair of them on the porch and slid the door shut to give them some privacy. "Think it's long enough that they'll just be relieved when I get back?"

"I couldn't say." The creases deepened. "I was expected back at the Dragon Palace five days ago."

"Won't they know you were ill?"

"Yes, but it shouldn't have mattered in the face of duty..." Iku lowered her head and grimaced.

Meanwhile, Tenshi raised her chin. "I'll explain what happened if we have to. But only if we have to."

"Of course."

They enjoyed the pleasant weather in silence for a while. As dingy as the twice rebuilt shrine was, especially compared to Tenshi's version of it, she had to admit it had a certain rustic charm.

"Iku..." She stopped kicking her feet in the air and gripped the edge of the porch with both hands. Her throat was dry. "Do you remember what happened before you fainted?"

"Remember what, Eldest Daughter?"

It was Tenshi's turn to grimace. She had been barely conscious herself and definitely not in her right mind, and squeezing out an apology had still been as hard as picking up a mountain all by herself. If she had to do it all over again, she would break something. A lot of somethings. Possibly including bones.

"You remember how we talked about what happened earlier? I mean..."

"Yes, I do." Iku's voice was utterly toneless, but she appeared to follow.

"Right. Do you remember what I said after that? About the same thing?"

Iku turned to look at Tenshi, with arched eyebrows. She tilted her head.

"Argh!" Tenshi drew a deep breath. "Okay..." It was much harder to force the words out in broad daylight, with other people a mere door away. "What I said then was...was..."

Iku continued to stare at her attempting to spit out another apology and utterly failing at it for a long moment before breaking into a small smile. "It's fine, Eldest Daughter. I do remember."

"What?" Tenshi completely lost her balance. After a moment of regaining her bearings, she half yelled: "You could've said so!"

"I'm sorry," Iku was smiling openly now, not sounding the least bit sorry. "I couldn't resist the temptation."

"Bah." Despite her outburst, Tenshi didn't actually feel cross. She sat back down, avoiding Iku's eyes. "Well, I meant it, I guess."

"Thank you." When Tenshi turned to look, Iku's smile was gone, replaced by perfect sincerity. "And I forgive you." A small crease appeared between her eyes. "Assuming you never attempt something like this again."

Now it was Tenshi's turn to grin. "I'll think of something else next time."

Iku sighed. "That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence." Still, her tone was airy, and when their eyes next met, they were both smiling.

"Well," Iku continued after a while, "if we are well enough for the journey, we ought to return to the skies as soon as possible."

Tenshi paused to listen. From beyond the door rang the sounds of moving shogi pieces and of Reimu and Suika quietly bickering.

"I still need to rest." Truth be told, she had felt as hale as ever since breakfast. Iku looked much better already as well, but there was a kind of faintness that clung to her that made Tenshi uneasy. "We should stay here till the evening, at least."

Iku tried to hide her obvious relief behind a frown. "If we must, then of course..." Tenshi could practically see her already thinking up the perfect wording for the eventual excuse she'd give at the Dragon Palace.

To encourage this line of thought, she continued with: "If they're going to be mad, they'll be mad whether we stay a day longer or not," and as Iku seemed satisfied with that, turned her head towards the door. "Think they might let us play after they're done?"

Iku tilted her head slightly to the right, then nodded. "I should think so."

Sharing a smile, the two of them slid the door open and joined Reimu and Suika inside.