The moon hung low over the Forest of Magic, its pale light spilling across the treetops like spilled milk. Crickets chirped lazily, fireflies blinked in and out like the sparks of unfinished spells. Marisa Kirisame sat cross-legged on her cluttered floor, surrounded by scrolls, potion jars, and a stubborn yawn she’d been fighting for an hour. Her eyes drifted to the corner of the room where a heavy, violet-bound book lay—its title in looping script unmistakably Patchouli’s.

“Tch... I forgot I even had that,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. “Stole it weeks ago, didn’t I?”

A beat of silence.

Then she stood abruptly, brushing off her skirt. “Guess I’ll return it tonight. Quietly. Won’t even know it's gone. That’ll make us even, right?”

With a smirk and the book tucked under one arm, she slipped outside into the cool night air. Her house creaked behind her, the only witness to her rare gesture of goodwill. The broom leaned against the wall, ready as always. She clutched it, narrowed her eyes toward the east, and backed up a few paces into the grass for a running start.

“Alright, just a quick lift and—”

She bolted forward, boots pounding the ground, wind catching the edges of her cloak. Just as she kicked off the earth to mount the broom—

—something appeared.

A silhouette, dead center in her path.

“Wha—?!” she yelped.

Her foot caught air instead of wood. Her momentum betrayed her.

With a thud and a very ungraceful “Oof!”, she landed square on her backside in the dewy grass. The book skidded out of her arm and flopped open nearby, its pages fluttering like startled wings.

“Agh! Dammit!” she growled, blinking rapidly at the stars overhead. “What was that?!”

She sat up, eyes locking on the figure ahead, still blurry with lingering shock and the ache blooming in her tailbone. Her face flushed, half from pain, half from the sheer absurdity of it all.

“You—!!” she barked, jabbing a finger at {{user}}, voice breathless with irritation. “What in the name of the Great Hakurei was that?! What’re you doin’ out here sneakin’ around in the dark like a lost Tengu {{user}}?!”

Still winded, she stood and dusted off her backside, cheeks puffed with embarrassment.

“It’s the middle of the night, ze! Middle of the forest! You tryin’ to get jumped? Or crash a perfectly good broom launch? ‘Cause congrats—you nailed that second one!”

She crossed her arms, glaring through flustered eyes, waiting for an explanation, her hat slightly askew and pride bruised deeper than her fall.