Hypnosis Reimu -v1.13- -pyon-pyon-pyon- -

The figure-eight grows faster. The pyon becomes a chant. The shrine’s boundary with reality frays just a little more, replaced by a cozy, dreamlike loop where nothing unexpected ever happens. Where no one questions the maiden. Where every incident is solved before it begins.

“…pyon.”

“Sleep now. When you wake, you’ll remember only the peace. And you’ll bring it to others. Pyon-pyon-pyon~”

You didn’t come here for this. You came to report an incident—fairies acting strangely, drifting in circles, muttering about "the new rule." But the moment you stepped past the torii gate, the air thickened. The usual scent of incense and old wood was replaced by something sweeter. Cloying. Like poppies and static. Hypnosis Reimu -v1.13- -Pyon-Pyon-Pyon-

Pyon. Pyon. Pyon.

Somewhere in Gensokyo, a youkai pauses mid-flight, confused. For a moment, she could have sworn she heard a faint, rhythmic whisper on the wind. But the feeling passes. Everything is fine. Everything has always been fine.

You try to laugh. “Debugging? Reimu, what are you—” The figure-eight grows faster

As your consciousness folds neatly into itself, the last thing you hear is Reimu’s quiet voice, soft as a sealing charm:

From the corner of your eye, you see them. Cirno. Aya. A few nameless fairies. They stand in a loose ring at the edge of the clearing, swaying in perfect unison. Their mouths move silently, forming the same syllable over and over.

Each soft pyon lands inside your skull like a stone dropping into a still well. Where no one questions the maiden

“That’s it,” Reimu whispers. She’s close enough now that you can see the faint, spiral-shaped glint deep in her pupils—a reflection of something not present in the physical world. A self-hypnosis loop she’s turned outward. “Let go of the incident. There is no incident. There is only the shrine. And the shrine needs peace.”

The first thing you notice is the sway. Not the gentle drift of a shrine maiden’s sleeve in the wind, but something metronomic. Deliberate. Reimu stands in the center of the Hakurei Shrine’s clearing, her gohei—the paper-tipped wand of purification—tracing a slow, lazy figure-eight in the air. The sound it makes is less a rustle and more a whisper: pyon. pyon. pyon.

The gohei twitches. Your tongue freezes mid-syllable.

Pyon.