The group made their way down the narrow staircase toward the basement. The deeper they went, the thicker the air felt—heavy, old, humming with something unstable.
They stopped in front of a large steel door reinforced with red sigils.
Even before anyone touched it, the sounds leaked through.
Boom.
A small explosion rattled the hinges.
Followed by high-pitched laughter—unhinged, echoing off the stone walls.
Reimu's shoulders tensed. "That… doesn't sound like a normal child."
Sanae swallowed. "That sounds like a youkai."
Marisa leaned in, hand cupped behind her ear. "Nah, that's the kind of laughter you hear when someone is doing something they definitely shouldn't."
Another crack of energy burst behind the door, accompanied by childish giggling.
Chris instinctively hid behind Reimu, gripping her sleeve tightly.
Sakuya sighed, adjusting her gloves. "Ah. She's awake."
Reimu stared at her. "…You put the mysterious sky-child in the same basement as Flandre?"
Sakuya nodded completely seriously.
"Remilia said it would build character."
Reimu pressed her forehead against the door in defeat. "Of course she did…"
Another small explosion shook dust from the ceiling.
Marisa raised a finger. "Should… we open that?"
Patchouli appeared behind them, completely unfazed. "If we don't, she'll open it for us."
A beat later, the sigils on the door flickered.
Cracks of red light crawled across the metal.
Reimu took several steps back, pulling Chris with her. "Yep. She's opening it."
The door lock clicked once.
Then twice.
Then something on the other side laughed again—soft, delighted, very much not alone.
The door swung open.
The door exploded open in a blast of red energy, and a small blur shot out like a cannonball.
Cassidy flew across the hall, arms flailing.
Behind her, Flandre came sprinting after her, laughing like this was the best day of her life.
Chris's eyes widened—recognition snapping into place instantly.
"Cassidy!"
He shouted her name in English, startling everyone except Marisa, who simply blinked like she'd expected this.
Cassidy, too busy running for her life, didn't register it at first.
"Flandre, arrête—arrête ! J'ai dit Temps mort! Temps mort !"
(Flandre stop—stop! I said time out! Time out!)
Flandre pouted as she chased her.
"Mais je veux encore jouer, Cassidy !"
(But I still want to play, Cassidy!)
Then—WHAM.
Cassidy was tackled sideways by a small golden blur.
She skidded across the floor, blinked, and found herself staring at Chris's face pressed against her chest.
For a heartbeat she just stared in disbelief.
Then her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.
"...Chris? It's—you? It's really you?"
His eyes softened—almost teary despite the glow and the swirling mana around him.
"Yeah. It's me. I finally found you."
She clutched him harder, trembling.
The two of them hugged tight, little arms wrapped around each other like they'd been waiting lifetimes.
Cassidy pulled back with a shaky grin. "You landed here too?"
Chris nodded, pointing proudly at Reimu.
"That sweet shrine maiden is taking care of me."
Cassidy squinted at Reimu. "She looks like she punches gods."
Chris snorted. "She does."
Meanwhile, the adults were staring like they'd walked into a completely different story genre.
Reimu turned to Marisa, desperate.
"Translate. Now."
Marisa threw her hands up.
"I can't! They're talking too fast! By the time I translate one sentence, they're already five conversations ahead!"
Sakuya quietly retrieved Flandre, who was trying to wriggle free to "play some more."
Patchouli pinched the bridge of her nose. "At least they're happy."
Reimu watched the two children cling to each other, chattering in rapid-fire English.
And despite all the chaos—the explosions, the chase, the basement horrors—she felt her anger melting.
She sighed, hands on her hips.
"...Okay. Someone explain how the hell we suddenly have two interdimensional sky-babies."
And nobody had an answer.
Not yet.
Reimu finally stepped forward, rubbing her temples like this was her third crisis before noon.
She crouched beside Chris, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Ryusei… who is this?"
Cassidy blinked, thrown off immediately.
"Ryusei?" she echoed, pointing at Chris like she'd just heard someone mispronounce "water."
Chris didn't answer her—he just looked up at Reimu with those tired, earnest golden eyes.
"…Friend."
His Japanese was still broken, but the meaning hit like a bell ringing.
Cassidy's expression softened, but she remained confused… until she noticed Reimu staring at her wings.
Not wings made of feathers.
Not wings made of magic.
But wings made of literal fire, shaped like blazing embers folded behind her back.
Reimu's face tightened. Her voice became steady, cautious.
"Is she the same race as you?"
The question hit the room like a thrown rock.
Marisa choked on her tea.
Mokou straightened up sharply, feeling the heat from Cassidy's flames.
Sanae's eyes widened. "Wait—Chris has wings?!"
Patchouli, watching silently from the doorway, whispered under her breath:
"Oh boy… here we go."
Cassidy looked down at her blazing wings, then at Chris, then at the confused shrine maiden.
"…Race?" she muttered, still processing.
Chris looked from Reimu to Cassidy, then back again—hesitating.
Because he knew the answer.
And he knew what it would mean if he said it out loud.
Patchouli stepped forward, her slippers barely making a sound as she approached the two children.
She examined Chris first—his single white wing half-unfurled behind him, feathers glowing faintly like moonlit snow.
Then Cassidy, whose wings crackled softly with living fire, embers drifting off her shoulders like sparks from a forge.
Her eyes narrowed.
"They're not fairies."
That alone made everyone freeze.
Patchouli lifted a hand, weaving a small detection sigil. The magic washed over both children like a soft breeze. What she saw made her inhale sharply.
"Their magic signatures match. Not completely, but close. Too close.
Not fairy, not human, not youkai.
And definitely not divine."
She circled the two as if studying rare celestial artifacts.
"Magic from the stars… and wings that manifest only under extreme emotional pressure…"
Reimu's grip on Chris tightened protectively.
Mokou frowned. "Patchy, spit it out."
Patchouli finally stopped between the two children.
"They could be Ryuun.
Star-born beings. Celestial spirits given flesh."
Sanae blinked rapidly. "Ryuun? As in the extinct race that lived above the Lunar Capital in old mythology?!"
Patchouli didn't answer immediately. Instead, she calmly reached out and brushed aside Chris's hair. Then Cassidy's.
Her expression tightened.
"No horns."
Koakuma leaned over Patchouli's shoulder. "So… they're not Ryuun?"
Patchouli shook her head slowly, eyes flicking between the two glowing wings.
"No horns means no full-blood.
But their wings… their mana…
Something in their souls is Ryuun. Fragmented. Mutated.
Or… transplanted."
Reimu swallowed. "Transplanted from what?"
Patchouli exhaled.
"From something that fell from outside Gensokyo.
Outside Earth.
Outside this plane entirely."
Every fairy maid in the mansion froze.
Remilia, who had been casually leaning against a pillar, straightened up and muttered:
"Oh. That's going to be a problem."
And Chris and Cassidy—still holding onto each other—just blinked in confusion, completely unaware that Patchouli had just implied:
They weren't born on Earth.
They fell from the stars.
Chris turned his head toward Marisa, still sitting on Reimu's lap, and said quietly in English:
"We are Spirit."
Marisa froze mid-step.
Her broom nearly slipped from her fingers.
"...Wait.
Wait, wait—Chris, repeat that."
Chris tilted his head, confused why this was what finally made Marisa panic, but he repeated more clearly:
"Spirit."
Patchouli, who had been sorting a dozen theories in her mind, stopped cold.
"Marisa," she said sharply, "translate. Now."
Marisa gulped and looked at Patchouli.
"He said… he's a Spirit."
Silence.
Not the quiet kind.
The kind that hits like a thunderclap.
Patchouli's eyes went wide behind her bangs. Her breath caught. Then she muttered something no one in the mansion had ever heard from her:
"Oh no.
Oh no no no."
Koakuma blinked. "Patchouli? You're scaring me."
Patchouli slowly put her book down.
"This… explains everything.
The missing soul records.
The unstable magic signatures.
The wings formed from emotion, not mana.
The inability to correctly detect life-force."
She looked at Chris.
Then Cassidy.
Then at the group.
"They're Spirits.
Which means—"
She swallowed.
"They're already dead."
Sanae choked on her tea.
Youmu—who literally lived half-dead—stared in shocked respect.
Reimu gripped Chris so tightly he squeaked.
Remilia muttered something about "cosmic headaches."
Flandre just tilted her head, confused but fascinated.
Reimu shook her head fiercely, almost panicking now.
"Wait—wait, Patchouli, he's here, he has a heartbeat, I've held him, he eats, he sleeps—how can he be dead?!"
Patchouli raised a hand.
"Reimu… calm down."
She turned to the children again, her expression softening—something very few had ever witnessed.
"Spirits in Gensokyo can take physical form.
The dead can walk, speak, even grow.
They are not corpses.
They are souls given shape."
Cassidy slowly understood.
Chris silently leaned into Reimu's shoulder.
Patchouli took a breath.
"These two didn't fall from the sky as children.
They fell as souls.
The universe—or something in it—rebuilt them."
Everyone went silent again.
And then Patchouli added, almost in whisper:
"We are not dealing with children who died.
We are dealing with children who survived death.
Spirit-born…
and reborn."
Reimu hugged Chris tighter.
Cassidy grabbed his hand.
And the Scarlet Devil Mansion suddenly felt very, very small.
Patchouli adjusted her glasses, studying Chris and Cassidy with a scholar's intensity.
"So," she said slowly, "to simplify it for all of you—yes. They are technically Spirits. But not the kind Gensokyo normally produces."
She turned a page in one of her floating books, symbols shifting into diagrams.
"They aren't ghosts.
They aren't phantoms.
And they aren't the half-living like Youmu."
Youmu raised a hand. "Hey—!"
Patchouli continued without acknowledging her.
"They are a specific type of Spirit…
one that forms from intense emotion, lingering purpose, and conceptual weight."
Koakuma tilted her head. "Meaning…?"
Patchouli sighed.
"Meaning they are half memetic entities."
Everyone stared.
Sanae blinked. "Me…metic? Like contagious ideas?"
Patchouli nodded.
"Exactly. Their existence is half soul… and half concept."
She pointed at Cassidy.
"Her emotional signature—hatred, grief, vengeance—shaped her 'body' into something fiery, reactive, and volatile."
Then she pointed at Chris.
"His is Purity, Light, and Destiny. His body constructed itself around that foundation."
Reimu looked down at Chris, tightening her arms around him.
"So they're… ideas?"
"Partially," Patchouli corrected. "They are souls that became stable by attaching themselves to powerful concepts. That stabilisation gave them physical form."
Marisa whistled. "So they're like walking, talking magical phenomena."
"Exactly."
Remilia crossed her arms. "Patchy… that sounds dangerous."
Patchouli shook her head.
"Not inherently. Memetic-type Spirits can be incredibly stable—if cared for, grounded, and emotionally supported."
Her eyes flicked to Reimu.
"And Chris has that stability."
Then to Flandre tackling Cassidy again in the background.
"…Cassidy, less so, but she is functional."
Finally, Patchouli folded her hands.
"To summarize:
They're Spirits.
But unique ones—half conceptual, half soul.
Living embodiments of emotion and memory.
'Memetic Spirits.'"
Reimu looked down at Chris again, softer this time.
"Ryusei… is that what you are?"
Chris shrugged.
"Spirit."
Cassidy held up her hand, a tiny flame forming above her palm.
"So… we're weird?"
Patchouli deadpanned.
"Unprecedented, actually.
Which in Gensokyo makes you surprisingly normal."
Everyone groaned.
And Reimu hugged Chris a little tighter.
Marisa looked at Patchy as she spoke. "So, anything more, I don't think anything can surprise us".
Patchouli pointed at Chris and Cassidy. "These kids aren't kids, they are actually the same age as you and the Shrine Maiden, as their energy signature matches that".
"What" came from everyone
Patchouli then continued. "The fact they look 6 means they.... Enough said".
The room went silent.
Marisa blinked hard, certain she misheard. "Patchy… what does 'enough said' mean?"
Patchouli shut her grimoire, eyes narrowing behind her glasses. "It means their physical bodies stopped aging the moment they died. Their spiritual form is fixed at the age they were when they first manifested. Their energy signature, however, is not that of a child—it's fully matured."
Reimu's face drained of color. She looked at Chris, then Cassidy, then back at Patchouli.
"So you're telling me these two… six-year-old looking children… are actually my age?"
Patchouli nodded.
"Spirit-class beings," she explained, "don't experience time the way we do. They don't grow unless they consciously choose to. And these two"—she gestured at the wings—"are exceptionally old spirits. They simply choose the appearance of children."
Cassidy tilted her head, confused. "We… look wrong?"
Chris shook his head. "Not wrong. Safe."
That hit Reimu like a punch. "Safe?" she echoed.
Patchouli sighed. "Most high-tier spirits adopt juvenile forms so humans trust them. It suppresses their aura, prevents panic, and limits how much of their power leaks into the environment."
Marisa's jaw dropped. "So—so these two weren't just throwing around magic earlier… they were holding back?"
Patchouli gave her a flat look. "Marisa. If they weren't holding back, the basement wouldn't exist."
A thick, shared silence fell over the group as everyone slowly grasped the implication.
Reimu exhaled shakily. "Okay… that did surprise me."
And for once, even Marisa had no comeback.
Patchouli placed a hand on Chris's head, ruffling his hair gently. His white wing twitched at the contact.
"As for whether they'll age…" she began, her voice softer now, "they can. Spirit bodies adapt slowly when their emotional development demands it. They change when they're ready to."
Cassidy blinked up at her, flames flickering silently from her wings.
Patchouli continued, "If I had to guess… their forms will stabilize around eighteen."
"Eighteen?" Marisa repeated, eyes wide. "So they're gonna grow up like normal kids?"
Patchouli shook her head. "Not like normal kids. Their growth won't follow years, but milestones. When their mind and soul mature to the next threshold, their body will follow. That's how spirits evolve."
Reimu crossed her arms, processing.
"So basically… they'll look older only when they decide to grow older?"
"Not decide," Patchouli corrected. "When they're emotionally ready. Spirits don't force form changes."
Cassidy pointed at herself. "So… I get to pick being tall?"
Chris nodded at her. "Me too."
Patchouli chuckled under her breath. "In a way, yes. But it will be instinctive, not conscious."
Marisa leaned in with a grin. "Hah! So someday, these two are gonna be towering over us!"
Chris shook his head earnestly. "No. Still small."
Cassidy copied him. "Still small!"
Patchouli stared at them for a long moment… then sighed.
"…They're definitely children on the inside," she concluded.
Everyone nodded at that.
Leaving the mansion should've been simple.
For everyone except Cassidy.
The moment she crossed the threshold, a sharp snap of resistance hit her like a wall. Her body was flung backward, landing on her rear as a scream tore out of her.
Flandre, of course, clapped happily.
"Cassidy can't leave~! Cassidy can't leave~!"
Cassidy glared at her with tears in her eyes. "That's NOT a good thing!!"
Everyone winced. They all understood immediately.
Bound spirit. Wrong territory. Mansion rules.
And Cassidy was stuck.
With that, Reimu took Chris's hand and began the walk back toward the Hakurei Shrine. She kept glancing at him the entire time—his small frame, his feathered white wings, his quiet steps.
She didn't know how to treat him anymore.
A six-year-old spirit that wasn't actually six. A child who wasn't really a child.
When they reached the shrine steps, she exhaled and ruffled his hair.
Chris blinked up at her, surprised.
"…Kid or not," Reimu muttered, "you still look like a kid. I'll decide the rest later."
Chris just nodded, smiling softly.
Meanwhile, at the Moriya Shrine…
Sanae sat in the warm glow of the lamp-lit room, sipping tea handed to her by a woman whose presence filled the entire space.
Kanako Yasaka—god of wind, storms, and iron faith.
Fluffy, deep violet hair framed her serene but commanding face. Her dark red eyes glowed with divine authority. The mirror upon her chest glimmered faintly, while the thick shimenawa behind her pulsed with spiritual weight.
[Insert image of Kanako Yasaka]
Sanae finished recounting everything.
"…And that is what happened, Mother."
Kanako took a slow sip from her own cup before smiling.
"Well, daughter, you certainly had an eventful day—dissipating the scarlet mist and all."
Sanae puffed her chest with pride. "I did, Mother."
Kanako reached over and ruffled Sanae's hair with a gentle fondness rarely shown to mortals.
"And that boy," she said, tone shifting. "Chris… he's interesting. Very interesting."
Sanae tilted her head. "Interesting how?"
Kanako's eyes gleamed, ancient and calculating.
"He's not human, not youkai, and not a god. But his presence disrupts the air."
A pause.
"Keep an eye on him, Sanae. Closely."
Sanae swallowed, nodding.
"…Of course, Mother."
"You're really gonna keep an eye on the boy?"
Both Kanako and Sanae turned their heads.
Standing halfway down the stairs, arms behind her back, was Suwako Moriya.
Her wide-brimmed hat sat snugly on her head, two large frog eyes perched on top like they were watching the room for her. Her light brown bangs were tied neatly on each side with small red bows.
[Insert image of Suwako Moriya]
She hopped down the last steps—thump—and the entire room vibrated.
"The ground trembles beneath my feet…" she said dramatically, then paused. "…Sorry. Messed up installing the floorboards again."
Sanae rubbed her temples. "Do we even have money to replace those?"
Suwako just gave a carefree laugh.
"Maybe? …Probably not? But that's future-us's problem."
She turned her attention toward Kanako, tilting her head.
"So, Kanako. You really wanna keep an eye on this boy—this little half-memetic spirit-thing? What's the reason? Curiosity? Worry? Boredom?"
Kanako's expression shifted—subtle, but heavy. Her fingers tightened slightly around her teacup.
"…Because I've already met one," she said quietly.
"A half-memetic being. Long, long ago."
Suwako's smile faded.
Sanae blinked, confused.
Kanako didn't elaborate.
But the air in the room grew tense, like an old memory had crawled out of a corner of her divine mind… and it wasn't a pleasant one.
Kanako's gaze drifted toward the window, the weight of her words hanging in the air.
Sanae straightened. "Mother… what do you mean you met one?"
Kanako didn't answer right away. Her tone lowered, carrying the gravitas of centuries.
"It was long ago. Another being whose existence bent logic. A creature half-concept, half-spirit… unpredictable, unstable… troublesome."
Suwako raised an eyebrow. "Troublesome how?"
Kanako's expression tightened—somber, distant.
"…Let's just say the experience was unpleasant."
Sanae swallowed, imagining some ancient cosmic disaster.
Suwako leaned closer. "Unpleasant like… dangerous?"
Kanako closed her eyes.
"…Unpleasant like something I hope never happens again."
The room went quiet.
Sanae and Suwako exchanged looks—concerned, intrigued, completely unaware that the "ancient traumatic memory" was actually:
YUKARI
ACCIDENTALLY FALLING HEAD-FIRST
INTO A POND
RIGHT IN FRONT OF KANAKO
AND DRAGGING HER IN WITH HER.
But Kanako kept her expression grave, letting the dramatic tension linger.
"We cannot underestimate the boy," she finally said. "Keep an eye on him. Both of you."
Sanae nodded.
Suwako shrugged. "Sure, sure. But—you're telling the full story later."
Kanako ignored her.
The day ends with the Moriya shrine quiet…
…while Kanako silently swears to never let another memetic being ruin her dignity ever again.
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy