Crimson lights the sky, the birds still asleep
Like a dream it shines, from heaven's safe keep
Children's songs we sung, as soft as the breeze
Endless fields, our home, I long for those days...

It began in summer.

For Gensokyo's sole human village, it was a quiet, lazy afternoon. The summer's festivities had come and gone, and the villagers were simply waiting to welcome the coming of autumn, preparing for the annual harvest and events. The worst of the heat had already passed, as the clouds had begun to grow thicker and more numerous. Thus, the center of the village, normally a bustling and busy hub, was almost completely devoid of people, save for a few who had come to offer their prayers to the statue of the Dragon.

The chiseled statue of the Dragon was the main attraction of the village square, standing high and firm atop a stone altar enclosed by a fence of shimenawa. With a long and coiled body, its mouth was carved wide open in a perpetual roar, eyes gleaming to match the mood of the sky—it was said that the statue's eyes had the power to predict weather: sunny days were white, cloudy days were gray, and rainy days were blue. (In the event of a calamity, the eyes would burn a searing red. Unmentioned, unwanted.) It was clearly a labor of love and respect, its stone body so smooth that sunlight danced across it, shrouding it in a luminous halo. The humans who gave worship to the dragon had spared no effort in creating something of its likeness.

“Oh, Marisa.”

One of the onlookers turned at the mention of her name, tearing her gaze away from the statue. She was a young adult, garbed in a black-white dress and pointed hat, attire that looked far too warm for the summer heat, even without sleeves. Approaching her was a girl of similar age, garbed in red-and-white; a friend-- of sorts, or so the girl called Marisa would say. Although Marisa's expression immediately lit up when she saw her, there seemed to be no change in the red-white's disposition, her countenance detached (almost bored) as she walked over, carrying several large bags in her arms.

“Yo, Reimu,” Marisa greeted her with a grin. “Fancy meeting you here. It's been a while, hasn't it?”

“We see each other every day,” Reimu replied with a scoff.

“Gathering supplies?”

“Of course. Anytime there's a reason to celebrate, all the youkai end up gathering at my shrine and eating and drinking everything,” she replies with no small amount of exasperation. “Especially Yukari. She eats like she's never eaten anything before whenever she comes out of hibernation.”

“I get pretty hungry when I get up from a nap, too, so I can sympathize with her there.”

“I'm just glad she hasn't showed her face in a while. It's pretty odd to see you here, though. Did you come to pay your respects to the statue?”

“Nah, just happened to be passing by.”

“I thought not. Since you're here, though, help me carry these back to the shrine.”

“Say,” Marisa began, shifting her gaze back to the statue. “Brooms are starting to go out of style, don't ya think? Wouldn't mind catching and riding one of those.”

“Don't try to change the subject,” her friend said with a frown. “And besides, that's heresy. You couldn't catch one anyway.”

Marisa flexed her arm with a wink. “Sure I can. I'm going to go look for one right now, and when I find one I'll bring it back to the shrine and show you! See ya later, Reimu!”

Reimu opened her mouth to protest, but before she could even get out a single word, Marisa took the broom in her hand and mounted it, kicking off the ground and soaring high into the air. Within mere seconds, she was nothing more than a speck in the sky, leaving Reimu to carry her bags by herself. She shook her head; even if it was just to get out of lending a hand, saying that she'd capture and ride a dragon was a silly thing to say. If some of the older villagers had heard her, she might have gotten some very nasty looks—although neither of them would really care. With a sigh, the girl in red-white floated away from the ground, much more gentle and graceful with her movements than Marisa, and took off into the sky.

To the humans of the village, it was just another day. They could not have been ready. They could not have been prepared. There was but a single warning for what would soon fall upon them.

The eyes of the statue began to glow red.



The clouds began to gather above one of Gensokyo’s many forests. There was a charge in the air, an overwhelming tension, and the heavens themselves began to twist and churn. Bitter radiance flooded through the clouds, painting the land below in streaks of lurid clarity – and something terrible began to emerge. Descending slowly, a hairless giant fell from the sky.

Although its shape was that of a human woman, it did not resemble a living being; closer to a massive ivory statue than anything organic. It plummeted through the air in a wake of shimmering snowflakes, crushing countless trees under its pitiless bulk.

Even as it hit the ground in a deafening seismic thunderclap, something else escaped from the light in the sky – several tremendous balls of fire rained down upon the fallen titan, exploding violently on contact. Soon their source became clear: a sleek red creature swooped down from the crack in the sky, already falling apart into motes of gossamer light.

Descending on leathery wings, it had a face like a white skull, a pointed reptilian snout, and twin curved horns that terminated forward, like a ram's. Its wings beat against the air, keeping it aloft, and it used its legs and mace-like tail to maintain balance. Although it hardly looked anything like the statue in the village, it could not be called anything but a dragon.

The dragon opened its mouth, revealing rows of sharp teeth…

“Is this the land of the gods?”

…And spoke, with the voice of an older woman.

The dragon was not speaking to itself; it was not alone. A man rode upon its back, clad in ragged armor, a sword at his hip and a scowl on his face. He said nothing in response, his eyes seeing only the white giant below, blind but for the storm of violence seething behind them. He had no need for words.

The giant began to stir, slowly raising itself up from the ground and onto its knees. Up, up, up. It opened its mouth (as if to scream, as if to speak) and warbled a thunderous bass, tongue lolling out past the grotesquerie’s alabaster chin. The rider’s scowl deepened in disgust.

The giant sang, the dragon roared.

The battle began.