Hypnosis Reimu -v1.13- -pyon-pyon-pyon- Apr 2026

You want to run. You want to scream. Instead, your own lips part, and a soft sound escapes.

Pyon. Pyon. Pyon.

You realize the pyon-pyon-pyon isn’t just a sound. It’s a waveform. A hypnotic carrier signal layered into the ambient reiki of the shrine. Every time you hear it, the edges of your thoughts blur. You try to recall why you came here. An incident? What incident? The memory slips away like a fish in murky water.

“You’re just in time,” Reimu says. Her voice is flat. Not angry. Not kind. Just there , like gravity. Her eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, but they track you perfectly. “Version 1.13. I’ve been debugging.” Hypnosis Reimu -v1.13- -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.

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.

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

“Version 1.12 had backlash,” Reimu muses, as if discussing tea. “Subjects retained too much self-awareness. They knew they were hypnotized. That led to resentment. But 1.13?” A rare, small smile. “They thank me for it. They even help spread the pyon .”

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

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. You realize the pyon-pyon-pyon isn’t just a sound

Pyon.

“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.”

Each soft pyon lands inside your skull like a stone dropping into a still well.