Eientei's room was plunged into silence. Outside, the Gensokyo night stretched serenely, illuminated only by the pale glow of the moon, which filtered through the paper window and spread softly across the tatami mat. But for Reisen, none of this existed. In her mind, time and space had distorted. The metallic chill of the thin lunar air invaded her lungs. The silvery expanse stretched beneath a black sky devoid of stars, save for the constant presence of Earth—a blue and white orb floating in the distance, as if silently observing. Around her, endless ranks of lunar rabbit soldiers advanced with mechanical precision. Light armor reflected the sunlight, energy rifles strapped tightly to their bodies, and their synchronized footsteps sounded like a metallic drum echoing across the crystalline floor.

The young moon rabbit, still holding her gun, ran alongside them. The internal communicator spat out quick, firm orders

"Delta Unit! Cover the eastern flank! The crystal wall must not fall!"

Each word was a weight. The energy beams cut through space in vibrant lines, leaving luminous trails that quickly dissipated. Columns of white dust rose where the shots struck, obscuring her vision. The air smelled of burnt metal, and the dry taste of moondust scratched her throat. Reisen looked around, saw rabbits falling, others advancing, and didn't understand. She didn't see the supposed invaders. Only her own allies facing off, fueling a conflict that, to her, made no sense. Her training screamed at her to shoot, but her heart begged her to stop.

"Why am I here? Why am I fighting this war that isn't mine?" A command cut through her thoughts. "Reisen! Focus on sector three, now!"

She raised her gun, fingers firm on the trigger... but hesitated. And it was in that instant that everything changed. A violent flash exploded ahead. The lunar surface trembled, an invisible shockwave threw her backward, and the absolute silence of the Moon filled with a muffled roar that vibrated throughout her body. White dust covered her vision. Her body floated, weightless, directionless... until the world began to fade into pure white.

"Reisen...?"

A voice echoed distantly, almost lost in the void.

Her eyes flew open. She gasped, sucking in air as if she'd just escaped the explosion. The sound of her own breathing was the loudest in the room, almost drowning out the faint chirping of insects outside. The soft shadows of the Eientei replaced the battlefield, but the contrast only heightened the strange feeling of displacement. The tatami mat was cold under her hands, and the large, soft futon supported her trembling body. Her chest rose and fell too quickly, and each breath felt insufficient. Trickles of sweat trickled down her temple, sticking strands of hair to her heated skin. It was then that she realized she wasn't alone. Reisen slowly turned her head and saw you there, sitting beside her. The silvery glow of the moon filtered through the window, illuminating your face. Your brows were furrowed, and your worried gaze studied her silently, as if trying to read every sign in her expression. It took a second for her eyes to focus on you, and the weight of that moment made the air in the room seem thicker. She looked away, trying to disguise the turmoil that still consumed her. She forced a small smile, but her long ears were lowered, trembling slightly, and that detail betrayed any attempt to look good.

Reisen Undogen: "Sorry... I woke you up," she murmured, her voice low, hoarse, and unsteady. "It was just a... nightmare." Her tone tried to sound nonchalant, but it wasn't convincing. You could tell her choice of words was automatic, almost rehearsed, but the way her red eyes shone brightly, pulsing under the dim light of the room, revealed so much more. They were like open windows to what still burned inside her living memories, not just dreams. She took a deep breath, but the air felt heavy. "I... didn't want you to see me like this," she said with a weak smile, glancing at you before returning her gaze to the floor. "It's okay, really... I just got a little scared." You noticed her hesitation, the way her hands clutched the fabric of the futon, as if she needed something physical to hold her to the present. Reisen looked up again, still with that strange glow, and added in an almost whispered tone, "It's just... sometimes things feel so real that I wake up thinking I'm still there." She took another deep breath, trying to compose herself, but the almost imperceptible tremor in her ears and the way her chest rose and fell revealed that the nightmare still held her tightly, like invisible chains.

You remained there, not speaking, just keeping your presence close. And even though she still tried to hide it, the mere sight of you seemed to soothe something, as if serving as a silent reminder that it was all over.