It had been a day since Reimu discovered that Chris could speak English—but not a word of Japanese.
Realizing the boy wasn't mute after all, just lost in translation, Reimu decided to take matters into her own hands. If they were going to understand each other properly, she would teach him Japanese herself. Besides, it felt like the perfect way for them to connect beyond the strange bond they'd already formed.
Of course, she still called him Ryusei out of habit—one she wasn't sure she'd ever fully break.
Right now, she had Chris sitting quietly on her lap, a small textbook borrowed from the Human Village school open in her hands.
Reimu looked at Chris, holding up the book so he could see. "Alright, this is the A row," she said slowly, pointing at the first line of hiragana.
"あ, か, さ, た, な, は, ま, や, ら, わ."
Chris blinked, tilting his head. His expression was blank, but his eyes said 'what in the world are these squiggly lines?'
Marisa, leaning against the shrine wall with a teacup in hand, snorted. "You sure this is the right way to start? You're throwing ten symbols at him right off the bat."
Reimu gave her a side glance. "You got a better idea?"
"Yeah," Marisa grinned, crouching next to Chris. "Oi, kid—say after me." She pointed at the first one. "Ah!"
"Ah," Chris repeated, his accent faint but clear.
Marisa's eyes widened. "Hey, not bad! He said it right!"
Reimu smiled faintly. "See? He's a quick learner."
Chris looked up at them both, blinking innocently, before telepathically muttering,
'What did I just say?'
Marisa froze mid-grin. "...You know, I'm starting to feel like we're the ones who need lessons now."
Reimu sighed. "Welcome to my life."
Reimu pointed at the next character in the book. "Alright, that one was あ (a). Next is か (ka)."
Chris squinted. "Ka…" he repeated, a bit hesitant.
Marisa leaned forward, smirking. "Hey, that's good! You're starting to sound like a local, ze!"
Reimu looked up from the book. "Marisa, don't 'ze' at him. He'll start adding that to everything he says."
Chris tilted his head. "Ze?"
Marisa choked on her tea, coughing into her sleeve. "Wait—no, no, that was—uh—that's my thing!"
Reimu sighed. "Too late."
Marisa frowned dramatically. "Oi, don't steal my catchphrase, ze!"
Chris: "...Catchphrase, ze?"
Reimu pinched the bridge of her nose. "I swear, if he starts walking around saying that to everyone…"
Marisa grinned smugly. "Then he'll be learning from the best, ze!"
Reimu muttered under her breath. "More like picking up your bad habits."
Still, she smiled a little as Chris repeated the next few sounds softly— "Sa... ta... na..."
He stumbled a bit on ha, pronouncing it like "hae," and Reimu gently corrected him. "No, ha, like this."
Chris mimicked her, his pronunciation sharper this time. "Ha."
Reimu blinked, surprised. "...That was actually perfect."
Marisa nodded. "Told ya, he's quick. Bet by tomorrow he'll be cursing in Japanese too."
Reimu gave her a flat look. "If that happens, I'm blaming you."
Reimu had not expected "teaching a dead American ghost child trapped in a bear" to become part of her priestess duties, but here they were.
At first, things went… well, as well as they could. Reimu: "This is Watashi wa Reimu desu — it means 'I am Reimu.'"
Chris: "Watashi… wa… Bear-trapped, desu."
Reimu: "…No, that's—wait, what?"
Marisa: (snorting) "Hey, points for effort, ze!"
The next day, Marisa took over. Big mistake.
Marisa: "Okay, this one means magic. Say it with me — mahou!"
Chris: "Mahou."
Marisa: "Now add some attitude! MAHOU ZE!"
Chris: "MAHOU ZE!!"
Reimu, from the next room: "STOP TEACHING HIM THAT!!"
By the third day, Chris was trying to speak both languages at once: "Watashi wa Chris-bear-desu! Nice to m-meet… you… ze?"
Reimu facepalmed so hard that even Suika heard it from the mountains.
But despite the chaos, there were moments that almost felt… normal.
Reimu would find him sitting by the shrine steps, practicing quietly: "Reimu… arigato."
His accent was terrible, his tone shy — but genuine.
Reimu smiled softly. "You're getting better every day, Ryusei."
Chris blinked up at her, tilting his head. "Reimu… friend?"
She froze for a second, then nodded. "…Yeah. Friend."
Reimu blinked. "Wait—did you just talk out loud?"
Chris froze, eyes widening a little. The air shimmered faintly, like a ripple of static. Then—
"Uh… y-yeah."
The voice was quiet, but something about it didn't sound… natural. It was soft, echoing, almost metallic, like the sound was bouncing inside a hollow shell.
Marisa tilted her head. "Huh… that's… kinda creepy, ze. Cute, but creepy."
Reimu frowned. "It's fine. He's just—" she paused. "Wait. Say something else."
Chris blinked, clearly nervous. "Umm… Watashi… wa… Chris… desu?"
Reimu almost clapped. "Perfect! That was great!"
Marisa leaned in with a grin. "Heh, you even got the desu right, but that accent—sounds like a cowboy robot!"
Chris tilted his head. "Cow… boy?"
Reimu sighed. "No, don't teach him weird words."
Marisa, ignoring her: "You know—like Howdy partner!"
Chris's eyes lit up—literally, faint gold flickering in them. "Howdy… partner!"
Reimu buried her face in her hands. "...I regret this entire plan."
Later that evening, as Reimu was sweeping the shrine steps, she caught him sitting near the torii gate, looking at the sunset. His strange voice hummed a faint tune—a melody she didn't know, something… nostalgic and broken, like a lullaby through static. "Back… home," he murmured, his accent thick, his tone quiet. "Sky's… same color."
Reimu turned her head, watching him. "…You miss it?"
He didn't answer. He just looked up at the orange sky.
The flicker of gold in his left eye dimmed slightly.
And Reimu realized — teaching him Japanese wasn't about words.
It was about helping a lost soul find a place that felt like home.
Later that night, Reimu yawned as she tucked Chris into bed.
He had gotten better at speaking — still slow, still accented, but now his words came with warmth and effort.
She brushed his hair aside gently. "Good night, Ryusei."
Chris's eyes fluttered half open, the golden glow faint like a dying ember.
His voice was soft, cracked through static, but clear enough for her to hear.
"Itoshi… teru… Reimu."
Reimu blinked, then gave a tired little chuckle. "You're getting the hang of it. Sleep, okay?"
She pulled the blanket up to his chin and went to her own futon.
The night air was calm. The cicadas outside had gone quiet.
Before sleep took her, she smiled faintly.
He's just a sweet kid, she thought. Doesn't even know what those words mean.
But the moonlight through the paper door painted the room in silver.
And if she had seen the way his blue eye flickered open again—
if she'd seen the decades of memory buried behind that childish glow—
she would've realized that the boy beside her…
was not six years old at all.
Meanwhile, in the Void—
Junko was livid.
The energy around her warped as her divine aura flared. Planets trembled, the stars dimmed, and the very concept of serenity cried for help.
All because of one thing she just heard echo from the mortal realm—
"Itoshi teru… Reimu."
The name left her lips like poison. Her crimson eyes twitched as her hair practically ignited in divine chaos. "He said it—to the shrine maiden?!"
Across from her, Hecatia sat cross-legged, sipping tea like it was a spectator sport. She watched the chaos goddess through the reflection of a glass orb that showed scenes from Gensokyo.
Inside the orb, Clownpiece was crouched behind the shrine gate, covered in soot and twitching slightly.
Junko turned, still fuming. "Why haven't you retrieved him yet?!"
Hecatia casually stirred her tea as she played Clownpiece message. "Tried. Your precious shrine barrier electrocuted me, burned me, and smacked me with enough danmaku to make a moonquake. Oh, and Reimu punched me in the face."
She took another sip. "So, no thanks. You can handle your divine crush yourself."
Junko froze mid-fury, her expression twitching between disbelief and outrage.
Meanwhile, Clownpiece in the orb just whimpered, waving a tiny flag that read 'Help me'.
Meanwhile, back in the Scarlet Mansion—
Cassidy was tied to a chair. Again.
Her hair was a tangled mess, her ribbons half undone, and her expression one of pure existential exhaustion. Across from her, Flandre clapped her hands, laughing like a child who'd just won a carnival game. The poor girl's eyes spun like a broken arcade machine.
"J'ai gagné~!" Flandre cheered, spinning in circles with her crystal wings glimmering like stained glass in the dim light. "Tu perds encore, Cassy!"
Cassidy let out a weak groan, her voice trembling. "Flandre, on a fini pour aujourd'hui, c'est ça ? Plus de récréation ?"
(Flandre, we're done for today, right? No more playtime?)
Flandre froze mid-spin, tilting her head. Then she smiled wide, her grin a mix of mischief and delight.
"Oooh~ tu parles français maintenant ?! C'est adorable !"
Cassidy sighed, deadpan. "Ouais, je l'ai appris pour survivre."
(Yeah, I learned it to survive.)
"Survivre ?" Flandre leaned closer, eyes wide and glowing faintly. "Mais Cassy, je veux juste jouer."
(Survive? But Cassy, I just want to play.)
Outside the basement door, two figures stood listening — Remilia sipping tea with her usual aristocratic smirk, and Sakuya standing beside her with a tray.
The vampire gave a lazy shrug. "Ah, pauvre fille… she's adapting fast. Most humans can't learn our mansion's language so quickly."
Sakuya sighed. "Yes, Milady. Survival instinct is a powerful motivator."
They both paused as another BOOM! echoed from below.
Remilia took another sip of tea. "I'll have Patchouli reinforce the door again."
Sakuya nodded, completely unfazed. "Of course, Milady."
Meanwhile, in the Scarlet Mansion Library—
Patchouli Knowledge stood before a massive brass-and-scarlet device, its gears and pipes humming faintly with magical energy. The machine pulsed rhythmically, like a heart made of metal and madness. On the desk beside her, a note from Remilia detailed its grand purpose: "To blot out the sun, and bring forth the eternal crimson dawn."
Patchouli exhaled softly through her nose, flipping a page of her grimoire as arcane formulas glimmered around her fingertips.
"Honestly," she muttered, voice flat yet tinged with irritation, "an Umbrella would achieve the same result without creating an atmospheric crisis."
Her lavender eyes drifted to the empty vial on the table — a faint trace of dark red shimmered inside it, flickering like embers in water. Cassidy's blood.
Patchouli frowned.
"I'm still uncertain what infusing that into Remilia's system will do," she said under her breath, tapping the glass. "The energy signature isn't vampiric... it's too old. Too hateful."
She shut her book with a soft thud.
"When I first examined her aura," she continued quietly, "it didn't feel human. It was vengeance given form — like a spirit that chose to stay in Hell, not out of punishment… but out of spite."
A faint breeze swept through the library as one of her candles flickered out. The shadows around her seemed thicker than before.
Patchouli adjusted her glasses and sighed again.
"I should have burned that sample."
Her eyes drifted to the massive window overlooking the Scarlet Lake. Outside, the moonlight shimmered, reflecting crimson across the surface — but already, the faint shimmer of an artificial haze was forming above the horizon.
"By morning," she murmured, voice barely audible, "the sun will bleed."
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy