I loved those eyes, once. They had this violent quality to them that seemed so calm with the rose-tinted glasses of young-adult love. Hana got that red tinge from her, a pride of a lineage composed of red and white. Then she changed—revealed her true self, perhaps. I don’t think I’ll ever know for sure—, and murdered our love, relegating those blazing red eyes to spell only pain and misery. In the many who donned her clothes inside that Fake Shrine, always attempting but never breaking what she’s damaged, I saw satire of her eyes.

None ever matched hers.

One arm is gone, the stump charred, torn red-and-white papers hanging on it. Bone is visible, clumped and drowned in the ruined flesh. Her clothes lay damaged, yet they resist, somehow a better craftsmanship than what she used to wear, and those weird wings, limp last I’d seen, stand proud and are open wide, guarding—like an Angel’s. What’s the origin of those things? Hana’s never shown affinity to fire of any kind…

Her eyes are bright, pleading, and wide. A deer in the headlights.

“Reimu…” I called her, not believing the sight, three years of parodies melting away to reveal once more the real thing, matron of my every scar and the one who started it all.

She stiffens up, then she turns away from me as if guided by puppet’s strings. Chen whimpers at the sight, lowly calling her name too, but it had gone unnoticed by the Hakurei maiden. She’s talking to the others, saying important things… I don’t hear a single thing. A pair of ice-cold hands, pale yet brimming with expertise in doll arts, reposes against the small of my back, pushing me away from a drowning state; a sliver of midnight settles against my heart, the pristine feather a lasting promise.

Yet, those eyes…

Love can destroy like nothing else.

“… She’s ignored us,” Chen mumbles, small body trembling and ears down—her arms have casts like mine, and dried blood is prominent. S-She was caught in this war despite Ran’s efforts…?—, looking at Reimu’s fiery back. “There’s no time right now. Y-Yukari needs…” She looks at the frantic blur of movement beyond the shimmering lights of the lake. I cannot make head or tails of what’s happening there. “… I’m afraid, Mr. Anon—” Drawn into her wide, hazelnut eyes were tears and a gaze suited for funerals.

Arms responded first, engulfing her in a stronger hug, these mummified hands massaging the surface-level wounds etched on her head. Yukari stood bloodied and pleading just ahead; Alice’s body got stripped of her gentle flesh in less than a second, and… my Hana stood like a killing machine amidst the bodies of those onis who’d wronged her, soaked in blood. Not an ounce of mercy or regret swam in the red eyes she’d inherited.

… What is this war not going to destroy?

“—But I will do my best, anyway,” she completes and slowly breaks the hug apart, leaving my arms like a dove lifting flight. It did not compute, my eyes wild and perplexed. W-What’s she doing, my Chen…? “I h-have a plan!” Her voice had grown suddenly, making me jump. She’s standing before Hana, her frown creased; Okina, dark circles sieging her golden eyes… And Reimu, whose stare jumped between Chen and me.

“W-What… No, you don’t, missy! You and Anon are leaving this place—” Reimu says, taking a step ahead and kneeling by the bakeneko, her only hand clasping her shoulder.

“We can stop Y-Yukari without killing her!” Chen stomps her feet and stops Reimu in her tracks, the gruesome rhythms of war beyond the veil of white-blue lights guarding like secrets the source of many sounds. Cruel sounds of blood and red iron. All eyes, however, focus on the small cat. She’s trembling like nothing I’ve ever seen, her arms spread and a conviction that follows her next words. “I know it’d be best if you’d kill her, I know!” Her heart pours, as do tears. I feel powerless to what’s happening before me. Another one of mine, drawn into the absurdities of this great war…? “B-But there’s something we can do!”

“… C-Chen…” Reimu whispers with so much of something I thought long gone. It sends shivers down my spine.

“I won’t deny you may have something that’d actually stop her,” Okina had shifted her eyes to the war happening beyond the overwhelming light of the lake, her body rigid. She sees something I do not. “But it’s way beyond the point of pardon—” Chen tries to open her mouth, but the Secret Sage speaks first. “—She's the reason a dragon is dead.” Hana tenses. “She’s still alive when the Dragon God graces us with communion, and he’d vaporize Gensokyo on the spot. With Yukari dead, at least we’ll have a chance of survival…”

“There’s no other way, Chen,” Reimu coos, reaching towards her as if to caress her reddened cheek, her voice reminiscent of how she’d talk to our baby still in the crib. “We’re so sorry.”

Hana had turned away, yet she can’t hide her anxiousness from her father: her shoulders are poised, her legs shaking, not from fear. She's a loaded rifle.

A wave of chills coursed down my spine.