I'd heard that the stars would go out in three days, so I decided to set out on a journey lasting one and a half.
I planned to spend the first half of the first day with my family, then set off to see how far I could go before time ran out. My plan was simple: spend a little time in the deserted city, then return home to my loved ones on the third day.
After some thought, I realized — this short story was a whole life in miniature.
The first day — birth.
The second — the journey.
The third — death.
No one wanted to die alone. Perhaps that's why people were always so desperate to find a partner. Not always successfully, of course.
If the red thread of fate connects you with the one you're destined to be with…
then what color is the thread that binds you to those you're not meant to meet?
It would be so much easier if we could see them.
Or perhaps we could only ever see the red one — and that's why nothing bound us to the others? I hope not.
That was something Euriel and I had talked about not long ago. I thought it strange that he would ask me such a question, but he said he wanted to know what a child would do in that kind of situation. Honestly, he could be very strange sometimes.
Still, after what happened with magic, I couldn't really blame him.
Even after awakening my abilities, I wasn't eager to master them. There were plenty of other things that deserved my attention first — like learning to walk and talk. At a year and a half, I finally made some noticeable progress.
Only half a year later did my legs become strong enough for me to move around without support. Not for long, of course. My knowledge from my previous life didn't seem to speed up the growth of an infant's body in the slightest.
But when it came to speech, things went better. Every day I held little private pronunciation sessions with myself. It was hard, but fairly effective. English and German words helped a lot — especially those that had given me trouble in my past life.
Words like scissors, rhythm, sprechen, and Dach. They seemed perfect for practicing difficult sounds.
It must have been quite a sight when Quint and Emilia caught me repeating those words. At first they were stunned — then burst out laughing and decided I had invented my own baby language.
And to be honest, they weren't wrong. No matter how you looked at it, it was an utterly useless skill. I'd spent half a lifetime perfecting something no one in this world had any use for. Not that I'd planned my future this way…
Well, whatever the case.
I couldn't read or write yet, of course. My knowledge of words didn't help me decipher the local squiggles. So I decided not to trouble myself with books for now.
I'd get to that later. The day after tomorrow, perhaps — so I'd still have one more day to think things through.
A jumble of thoughts I could hardly put into words gathered on the tip of my tongue. And that's when I remembered them — the threads.
If my memory served, the girl had said they weren't directly tied to magic.
I sat more comfortably on the bed, crossing my legs beneath me. A light breeze stirred my hair, helping me sink deeper into meditation.
I focused as hard as I could, but no matter how deeply I sank into myself, I couldn't grasp that feeling I'd experienced before.
I could clearly hear the beating of my heart, the sound of my breath, the faint growl of my stomach — and nothing else.
It felt as though, even if the girl had left me a detailed manual on how to use magic, its pages would now be completely blank.
I caught myself sighing.
Pins and needles spread through my feet. Something was seeping into my body, flowing upward toward my wrists. I slowly—
Hrrr.
"Stop, stop, stop! No! No! No!" I jumped to my feet, shaking my head violently from side to side.
After slapping my cheeks a few times, my eyes flew open wide. I looked down at my fingers — and there they were. Tiny, almost invisible.
With a loud, triumphant yell, I leapt up — which turned out to be a mistake, since my legs had gone numb. I toppled straight back onto the bed. But not even that could wipe the grin off my face.
"What an innocent smile. That's not like you. Did something good happen?"
My smile froze. My breath stopped. Every nerve in my body went tense.
Euriel laughed. Apparently my reaction amused him.
I quickly pulled myself together, running a hand through my hair — where a few threads still clung — while waving the other hand frantically in front of me.
"Wha—ha-ha—no, no, it's nothing! Ha-ha—why are you even here?"
Euriel kept laughing. It seemed the sight of me scratching my head while waving like a madman was deeply entertaining to him.
His laughter made me shrink and lower my head.
"All right, all right. You haven't seen Quint, have you? Though… I guess you wouldn't be smiling like that if he were anywhere nearby."
Euriel nodded and was about to leave — but stopped at the doorway. Leaning a hand against the frame, he turned back with that faint, easy smile of his.
"You know," he said, "magic is imagination."
For a moment, those words carried me far beyond the walls of that room.
It was as if, just for an instant, his lips overlapped with hers — and her voice echoed through his. My shoulders trembled. I thought I felt tears welling up at the corners of my eyes, but I wiped them away quickly.
She once told me that, in this world, people believed magic was something written in grimoires. So why… why did he say that? Why did I hear her voice in his words?
"Where did you— I mean… ha-ha… ha…"
It was like catching a glimpse of a familiar figure in a crowd of office workers.
Someone who mattered.
No matter how hard you tried to reach them, the crowd swallowed your efforts, and their image only grew more distant — fading like a mirage.
And when you finally stopped, breathless, you weren't even sure if it had really been them.
But your heart was still pounding, desperate to escape your chest.
The way I let that moment consume me said everything. My emotions were far beyond what a child's mind could hold. I clutched my own shoulders so tightly it hurt.
To say "nothing happened" would've been the easiest thing. Understandable, even.
But still—how could I explain what had just taken place?
What had I done?
Euriel closed the door and told me to take a deep breath. I obeyed, focusing on the rise and fall of my chest. It didn't help much.
Standing before me, one hand on my shoulder, he seemed to realize that too.
With a heavy sigh, he brushed his bangs back and gave my shoulder a light pat, as if urging me to look up at him.
"Yori," he said softly, "look here."
"Ah—"
It wasn't what I expected to see. Not at this age. Not at this time.
From the tips of his fingers, threads began to grow — not quite like mine, nor like hers, but unmistakably the same in essence.
Bathed in sunlight, they danced freely, forming a shimmering cocoon of light around me.
I reached out toward them. As if to greet me, they floated down and settled onto my palm. So warm, so soft.
It felt as though I had finally caught a ray of sunlight.
I must have been a strange child.
What was that sound that slipped from my mouth?
Was I… laughing?
At that moment, I couldn't control myself.
It was as if Yori — the one I was supposed to be — sensed that I was in trouble and rushed to my aid.
"I don't know what caused your mood to change," Euriel said softly. "I just wanted to tell you that all you need to do is imagine those threads disappearing. That's all."
He nodded, as if confirming his own words — and with that, his threads simply scattered, like dust swept away by a sudden gust of wind.
And with them vanished my ridiculous childish laughter.
"You're not going to ask anything?" I whispered.
"Do you want to tell me something?"
I only shook my head in silence, and he nodded once more.
"I thought so."
As before, I was helpless without someone else to steady me.
Just moments ago, I'd been like a panicked chicken, running back and forth, trying to take flight — and now I felt strangely light, as if I had actually managed it.
Step. Then another.
My imagination drew invisible paths within me, guiding the threads as they gently dissolved.
Like snakes responding to a pungi's tune, they melted away into the tips of my fingers.
"Whatever's troubling you," Euriel said quietly, "I hope it resolves itself. Being a child doesn't last forever. Don't push yourself toward places you don't need to reach yet."
His words were too deep — as deep as the red blooming across my cheeks.
Shame and relief tangled within me, like being scolded and forgiven all at once.
As for his cryptic comment about magic and imagination — he only brushed it off with a joke, then slipped away. Honestly, if I ever made a list of schemers, his name would be second. They really seemed made for ea—
Mm. No. That's definitely not what I meant.
Anyway...
From that day on, I stopped trying to use the threads.
Or magic, for that matter.
Not that I'd ever truly used it to begin with.
Birds poured their very souls into song. Some found it annoying; others, beautiful.
Like people, they did everything they could to leave a trace behind — proof that they had lived.
Someday, I want to sing my own song too.
Whether it's soft or loud… without knowing the future, it's hard to say.
But for now—
Hrrr.
.
That same dull sense of melancholy marked both the beginning and end of each new day.
And the older I grew, the stronger it felt.
I was already awake, but I refused to get out of bed — unwilling to surrender.
Ever since I learned to walk and talk, one question haunted me: what comes next?
Learn to read and write?
Start training?
Study more about this world?
Yes. One day, I surely would.
But for now, fatigue and laziness wrapped around me like a thick layer of snow.
And beneath it, it was far too warm to dig my way out.
The sunlight pierced through the glass, reminding me of the time. I shut the curtains — but even that didn't help.
So quiet. That's what I thought as I lay there, facing away from the window.
Another season was slowly, inevitably coming to an end.
There were more and more days I could never return to — and fewer waiting ahead.
You couldn't fight the flow of time.
It was something neither magic nor anything more powerful — if such a thing existed — could ever change.
Nothing would be different if I fell asleep again.
The world would simply keep on turning.
Hrrr.
"Rise and shine!"
Suddenly, the door slammed against the wall with such force that I jolted upright.
Clutching the edge of my blanket with trembling hands, I turned toward the doorway.
The energy radiating from the man standing there could've powered the entire house — but apparently, he preferred using it to startle his own daughter.
"What do you want?" I asked irritably.
"Hm? Is that how you greet your father? Let's try that again! I'll step out, and then come back in properly."
Before I could even respond, he'd already left the room.
And then...
"Rise and shine!" he shouted again, slamming the door for good measure.
"Good morning," I growled through my teeth.
"Whoa, you're already awake? How unexpected!"
Quint laughed, clearly pleased with himself. My heart creaked — or maybe that was my teeth. Hard to tell.
Shaking my head from side to side as if trying to wake up, I flopped back onto the bed. The mattress suddenly felt too hard — far too hard to keep sleeping on.
"What do you want?" I asked again.
"Come down for breakfast, then get ready."
"Ready for what?"
"We're going to town. You and Emi are going shopping. Isn't that great?"
Judging by his clothes, Quint had either just come home or was about to head to work. The sunlight filtering through the curtains shimmered on his shirt, making me suspect his forehead was already slick with sweat — which could only mean one thing: it was hot outside.
"No," I said flatly, turning my back to him.
But with Quint, arguing was pointless. He grabbed me by the leg, yanked me out from under the blanket, and slung me over his shoulder like the carcass of a freshly hunted animal. I had neither the strength nor the will to resist. Thus, I was forcibly exiled from my comfort zone — in my pajamas, hair sticking out every which way.
Honestly, the idea of spending the day with Emilia was much more appealing than being with Quint. But… it wasn't that simple.
Ever since I'd started speaking, our relationship had become harder to define. She was still kind, still caring. We still understood each other without words.
But now, that was because there were no words left between us.
Words — meant to bring people closer — somehow began to push us apart.
We entered the kitchen. Emilia sat in her usual seat, resting her cheek on her hand, her gaze distant, as if she were still lost somewhere in her own thoughts.
The table was already set: two plates, two cups — and no sign that Quint intended to join us.
"And here we are!" Quint announced, as loud as ever.
"Good mor—" Emilia turned toward us, her eyes narrowing. "Quint. Tell me. What exactly are you doing?"
Still hanging upside down over his shoulder, I could feel him start to tremble. His back gradually hunched, as if my weight had doubled under her glare. I swear, another few seconds and his head might've buried itself in the floor like an ostrich's.
"Good morning, Mom," I greeted, dangling headfirst.
"Mmm. Morning." She sighed, returning to her previous pose. "Never mind. Just put Yori down and go before you're late."
Quint nodded. With a few deft movements, he flipped me upright and plopped me onto a chair like a doll. It happened so fast I barely had time to process it. In the blink of an eye, my upside-down world was righted again — and the sudden shift made my head spin.
"You see... she just didn't want to get up, and—"
"Did I ask for an explanation?" Emilia cut him off.
"No, ma'am!"
She gave him some vague answer that sounded like a farewell, then took a sip of tea from her cup. Meanwhile, Quint bolted out of the house as if fleeing from a fire.
Lately, she'd been like that — brushing things off as though swatting at bothersome flies. But I couldn't blame her. I did the same — shutting my eyes to everyone's worries, focusing only on my own.
My chair was taller than the rest — obviously so I could reach the food. I leaned forward, grabbed a slice of bread, and took a bite. Though honestly, it was more like I pecked at it, like a bird.
Even the simplest toast and eggs always tasted good when Emilia made them. But today, I couldn't taste a thing. It was too uncomfortable being alone with her.
Her eyes fell on me, and I responded with an awkward cough. My throat tightened as if I were eating a stolen bun right in front of the baker. She handed me a cup of tea, and I quickly took a sip.
"Aren't you hungry?"
"Oh, um… no, I'm eating."
"All right."
That was probably the dumbest, most awkward answer I could've given — but she accepted it easily.
We finished breakfast in complete silence.
Only the sound of dishes clinking broke through the heavy air as Emilia got up to wash them.
With my face pressed against the table, I realized the food had done me no good. My stomach grumbled painfully, as if trying to digest stones.
"Shall we go then?" Emilia asked once she'd finished washing up. "Ah, right… I can't rely on that fool for anything."
She shook her head in disappointment as her gaze shifted from my messy hair to my pajamas. Gently lifting me into her arms, she carried me upstairs.
Sitting down on the bed, Emilia set me on her lap. Her fingers moved softly through my hair as she tried to comb it out. I barely felt the brush touch my head, giving in completely to the sensation. It was as if she were stroking me, not brushing.
The thought of Quint being the one to do this made my skin crawl. I had no doubt that after his attempt at hairdressing, I'd end up bald — and he'd probably demand payment afterward, too.
After a while, my hair finally looked presentable. I tilted my head in front of the mirror to check, and noticed a small flower-shaped ornament.
"What's this?" I asked, turning to her.
"A hairpin," Emilia replied quickly.
"What's it for?"
"Isn't it cute?"
I grimaced so hard that my right eye twitched, making her burst into laughter.
And with every note of that laughter, my spirits sank further. Did she really want to make me look like a girl? Technically, I was one, but… oh no, let's not get into that mess.
In the end, I had no choice but to keep the hairpin.
It was light enough that I soon forgot it was even there.
.
Traveling had never made me anxious.
I'd done it countless times since childhood — moving, packing, disappearing from people's lives.
I'd seen more new things than I could ever remember of the old ones.
So why was I nervous now?
Just thinking about what awaited me beyond the door made my breath quicken.
The world outside was nothing like my own — filled with magic, fantastical creatures, streets shimmering with enchantments, people soaring through the sky.
That's how I imagined it: a world of wonders.
Excited in every possible way, I stepped outside.
But when we reached the town square… the city turned out to be ordinary.
Just older — and dustier.
No flying brooms, only creaking carts with squealing wheels.
No traces of magic swirling through the air, just the smells of fish, manure, and fried onions.
Dust clogged my nose, sunlight stabbed my eyes, and the only real miracle was how the locals weren't fainting from the heat.
And the people… they were everywhere.
Even by Tokyo standards, it was too much.
My knees began to tremble as my gaze darted around.
The sky seemed impossibly high, the people impossibly tall — and I, among them, felt impossibly small.
My mind overflowed with thoughts, fears, prayers — all blending into meaningless sounds, until it felt like I was the only one chanting spells.
"Yori? What's wrong?"
I couldn't answer her — there were too many words, all tangled together.
Worried, Emilia picked me up, holding me close against her chest.
Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face in her shoulder.
I could feel my body shaking under the puzzled stares of passersby.
Shame burned in me — that their eyes were on her because of me.
"I'm sorry..."
A deep sigh escaped her lips, and I looked up.
She was smiling — softly, just like on the day I was born.
And in that instant, all my fears evaporated, like puddles beneath the summer sun.
"What are you apologizing for, silly?" she said, ruffling my hair. "It's not shameful to be afraid. And you're not alone, are you?"
And just like that, all her careful work on my hairstyle was ruined.
I wanted to stop her, to protest — but it was already too late.
My hair looked as if I'd just been struck by lightning.
I blew a puff of air upward to get my bangs out of my eyes.
"Oh! Sorry, sorry," she apologized, still ruffling my hair and giggling.
It was hard to tell whether she was trying to fix the situation or make it worse.
But as long as she was happy, that was all that mattered.
We continued on our way.
The thicker the crowd grew, the softer the sound of Emilia's sandals became.
We were surrounded by shouting vendors and the clatter of carts.
But none of that bothered me anymore.
There was no denying it — her carefree attitude made me feel lighter.
I decided this was my chance to talk to her.
All I had to do was find the right moment.
If you reach the top fast enough, no one cares how hard you climbed.
This was my chance to make things clear.
Time doesn't slow down just because you're thinking about it — a simple truth I stubbornly ignored.
Sitting on Emilia's shoulders, lost in thought about our coming conversation,
I didn't even notice how we'd bought everything we needed and left the town square behind.
But the road we took afterward was unfamiliar to me.
Not that I knew the city at all — but this definitely wasn't the way we'd come.
"Uh, Mom, where are we going? This doesn't look like the way home."
"Oh, you remembered it that quickly, did you?" she laughed, her shoulders shaking — and me along with them.
"We're going to the temple. To meet Euriel."
"But you've got so many bags! Shouldn't we have done the shopping after?"
"Well, your mom's really strong," Emilia declared proudly, flexing her arm.
I gave her slender arm a skeptical look.
And yet, not a single muscle trembled under the weight she carried.
Must be magic, I decided.
I couldn't predict what would happen once we reached the temple.
Maybe Euriel would come back with us — something I didn't really want.
Not because I disliked him; he was like the wind:
sometimes bringing cool relief, sometimes blowing everything apart in one gust.
So I chose not to hesitate any longer and asked directly:
"Mom… do you not like me?"
I had spent so much time choosing the right words, rehearsing possible answers, building up inner defenses —
and in the end, that was all I managed to say.
She stopped walking.
From where I sat on her shoulders, I could see her blink in surprise.
She gave a soft hum of thought.
If Quint had asked her that, I was sure she'd have shot back something sarcastic like "of course."
But I wanted to believe my fate was different.
"What kind of question is that?" she asked.
"Well… it's just that… we stopped talking, that's all," I added quietly.
"I see, I see."
What kind of answer is that? I wanted to ask, but I bit my tongue.
We walked a little further until we found an empty bench.
Setting the bags down, she lifted me off her shoulders and sat me on her lap.
We sat there in the shade of a tree,
the gentle rustle of leaves the only sound breaking the silence that had settled between us.
Whatever was on Emilia's mind still belonged to the future.
As always, I didn't know what it would bring.
"You know…" she began, looking up at the sky,
"sometimes you seem so grown-up that I don't know how to treat you like a child.
But no matter how I look at you, you are still a child.
It's confusing."
I felt the warm air of early summer flow past me.
It was as if my thoughts blended with that flow and slipped away.
All the barriers I had built up fell apart, hanging loosely like torn cobwebs.
"When you said Quint was like an old TV that won't work unless you smack it…"
she chuckled, glancing at me,
"what did you even mean by that?"
That joke might have worked back then,
but now… it led nowhere.
I realized that only after the words had already left my mouth.
And now here I was.
She just looked at me for a while — and I at her.
Even if she was expecting an answer, I didn't have one that would satisfy her curiosity.
No matter how I tried to explain, one question would remain:
how could thoughts like that exist in the head of a child?
"That's not what's important," she said at last, gently touching my head and sighing.
"It's just that… you seem farther away every day.
I'll blink, and it'll already be time to say goodbye.
That thought… scares me."
Her hand trembled in my hair.
I looked up at her face — tears glistened at the corners of her eyes.
The sight was too devastating to bear.
I could never truly understand what "family bonds" meant. Perhaps the fact that I never accepted Quint and Emilia as my parents played its part. I kept pushing them away—and they felt it. Maybe that's how any bond works—I just never gave it much thought.
It hurt.
Not just them.
I could no longer hold myself together. Everything buried deep inside my heart began to pour out. Tears welled up in my eyes.
I threw myself into Emilia's arms, crying uncontrollably. In that moment, all my barriers were finally destroyed.
"I'll always… always… no matter how much I grow up… I'll always be your daughter!"
Streams of tears rolled down my cheeks, filling my mouth and choking my words. I fell into a state that words couldn't describe. Nothing around me made sense anymore.
All I could do was cry.
Inside me was a voice that screamed louder than my thoughts. It was as if a small crack spread open, splitting me in two. I knew giving in to emotions was foolish, but there was no room left for rationality.
Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I stared off toward the tree. My body froze. It felt like even my consciousness had left me, trying to flee. It was like those moments when, under shock, your mind just… shuts down.
There, in the shade—just a few inches from the bench—stood Euriel, silent.
"Oh, you're done already?" He smiled broadly as our eyes met. "I'm surprised by how open you can be."
"You're already here? Sorry you had to wait for us," Emilia said, wiping her eyes.
"Oh no, not at all. I just happened to notice you two. I wanted to wait, but curiosity got the better of me. I hope you don't mind?"
What they said afterward—I barely remembered. It felt as though my body and mind had turned entirely to stone.
He saw that? How long had he been standing there?
I wouldn't have been surprised to meet Euriel at the dining table in the middle of the night. Even if I were miles away in the mountains, I felt like we would somehow still meet there. So why was I surprised now?
Like sunlight in different seasons, he evoked a different spectrum of emotions each time. It was impossible to get used to him.
For children, such behavior was normal. They always cried, made trouble, got hurt, and made their parents worry. I was different. Not by much, of course. My detachment often made Emilia worry, too. As for Euriel—he seemed completely unconcerned.
But his sudden appearance made me wonder: could I have handled things differently? Could I have held back my tears? Should I have talked to Emilia like an adult to an adult? No, that probably wasn't the right way either.
Of course, that was just wishful thinking. The time to go back and change things was already gone.
"Yori, look at me."
"Hm?"
My eyes widened as Emilia's hand appeared right in front of my face. Then, as if she were putting on a transparent glove, her hand became covered in water. Droplets slid down her fingers, but didn't fall—they simply hung in the air.
I reflexively squeezed my eyes shut and gasped sharply, as if diving underwater.
"Easy, easy, don't panic," she said, her voice both gentle and teasing.
Her hand brushed across my cheeks, and the water instantly flowed down, taking with it the remnants of tears, sweat, and something else—as though everything unnecessary was being washed away.
"Euriel, would you give me a hand?"
"Of course."
I tried to open my eyes to see what they were doing, but Euriel's hand covered them. It felt as if sunlight were shining through glass onto my skin—not burning, but pleasantly warm.
I blinked several times when Euriel finally moved his hand away.
"What just happened?"
"— You've been washed and dried. Feels nice, doesn't it?" Emilia giggled.
Those two treated magic like a kettle and a towel — so casually that it was almost absurd.
"Want me to help you too?" Euriel asked, stretching out his hand toward Emilia.
"No, no," she waved him off. "Let everyone see what my beloved daughter has done to me."
"Mom!"
"Just kidding. Hahaha."
Now I understood better why Emilia had chosen Quint — or maybe it was the other way around. Their sense of humor was strikingly similar, and somehow that realization was comforting.
It wasn't like me to seek instead of flee. To initiate rather than shrug things off. I didn't know where this path would lead, but I could feel it — I was moving away from one version of myself and toward another.
Perhaps it was something like the night before a wedding. Not that I actually knew what that felt like… it's just that you say goodbye to one life in order to begin another.
Euriel insisted on taking the bags from Emilia, and we continued on our way. Of course, I tried to protest when Emilia lifted me onto her shoulders again, but as always, she only smirked and pretended not to hear. Resisting was pointless.
I snorted, buried my chin in her hair, and gave up. Sitting on her shoulders in front of Euriel was a little embarrassing. But only a little. In truth, I felt safe. For once, I was tall enough for the world around me to seem less frightening.
After a few more steps, I saw what I'd been hoping for — a magnificent structure whose spires seemed to pierce the sky.
At first glance, the temple looked like a castle made of sand. Its curved lines, shaped as if by sea winds, merged into a strange, almost living architecture. The towers resembled stalactites that had grown upward. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings, too complex to understand at a glance.
The stained glass windows shimmered in the sunlight, scattering soft patches of color across the cobblestones. Somewhere deep inside, there was an echo — of a choir, or perhaps the building itself was singing.
A child's laughter rang out nearby. Then another. It sounded so loud and bright that it felt like we were standing right in the middle of it. I turned my head toward the sound and saw something like a school or a nursery next to the temple.
Children of all ages were running around the small courtyard. A few of them were chasing something that looked like a ball. One of them tripped, but laughed and jumped right back up, as if nothing had happened.
I think I now understood where Euriel's childlike habits came from — in this place, it was impossible to stay "serious."
"Yori, would you wait for us here? Don't go too far, okay?"
"Huh?"
"I won't be long," Emilia smiled, setting me down on the ground.
"Alright," I nodded.
When their figures disappeared beyond the arch, I caught myself thinking that the three of them had talked behind my back more than once.
Well, whatever.
I turned my gaze back toward the building — and noticed several girls running in my direction. Though we were still far apart, I hid behind a tree so they wouldn't see me.
The girl leading the group kept running ahead. Her short legs pattered adorably against the ground. The way she ran was strange — almost cartoonish. Behind her followed several other girls, arms stretched above their heads.
Their running looked no less peculiar, and yet, there was something soothing about it.
I watched them trace circles across the yard, as if trying to leave alien messages on the earth. And then, I noticed — I wasn't the only one watching.
Shifting my attention, I saw another girl sitting alone on the temple steps. Her hands clutched the corners of a book while her eyes followed the running group.
All children are different. Though they may look about the same size, their temperaments couldn't be more distinct — that's what made them unique. Looking at that girl, I couldn't help but wonder: could Emilia tell us apart? Of course she could. Not in some idealized way — simply because our hair colors were completely different. Hers was green, while mine was black.
Despite how she might have seemed at first glance, the girl was easy to read. She clearly wanted to play with the others but couldn't bring herself to speak. Judging by the hopeful way she looked at them, she was waiting — waiting for someone to come over, to notice her.
But the world has never been kind enough to pay attention to the wishes of a little girl.
The only person who noticed the girl was a nun. She was probably some sort of local mentor.
As soon as the nun spoke to her, the girl immediately turned her gaze back to the book.
It was hard to tell what they were saying by lip movement alone, but once the woman left, the girl went right back to watching the others.
My thoughts about that girl made me hesitate. Everything about her situation looked unbearably pitiful. I didn't want to make such a judgment, but I didn't know how else to describe it.
I wanted to reach out to her, but I didn't want to meddle in the relationships between children.
Besides, there was always a chance she might reject me — and I had no doubt that would deal a critical blow to my already fragile self-esteem.
But if she accepted my hand… what then?
Once I left, she'd be alone again. What if she waited for me? That would be the ideal scenario, of course.
But even so, I couldn't shake the feeling that I would only end up hurting her more than helping.
Relationships of any kind are complicated. Age has nothing to do with it.
I had no words that could reach her. And why should she listen to me anyway?
One thing was clear — waiting for someone to notice you rarely works.
Of course, if you reach toward the light, there's always the risk of getting burned.
But if you don't… you'll remain forever in the shadows.
.
"When ***** grows up, he'll be the coolest and most popular of all!"
No matter how stupid that sounds now, that's what I once declared when I was in elementary school.
That was my dream.
I doubt that if I ever met my younger self, he'd be proud of me.
Time — and myself — have shaped me into the opposite of what I dreamed of becoming.
As for the name… no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember it.
Calling that strange would be an understatement.
I couldn't recall a single name of anyone who'd been around me in the past — and there weren't even that many of them.
And what did that tell me?
That with each passing day, I was becoming less ***** and more Yori?
Perhaps…
Yet I remembered every event vividly — every detail — except my own presence in them.
That was… terrifying.
It all began with the dream I had after visiting the temple.
"Dreams are shaped from our memories."
Someone told me that once.
Perhaps that's how people can plunge back into the depths of memory without using magic.
But what about the strange dreams that have nothing to do with reality?
Maybe they're stitched together from overlapping fragments of the past — pieces of something real that the mind weaves into something entirely new.
Maybe that's why, sometimes, we are participants — and sometimes, helpless spectators.
At that moment, I found myself in an endless field of darkness.
A familiar situation, isn't it?
There was something pleasant about being free from all worries.
But there was one problem — the darkness was different.
It was so thick and deep that it devoured even the idea of light — if there had been any.
And this time… no matter how far I wandered, I was completely alone.
I could feel it consuming me.
And no — that wasn't a metaphor.
I couldn't even see my hands in front of me.
Everything was different.
It felt as though the very concept of my self was fading away.
I turned my head, but nothing changed.
This place was utterly empty.
Or perhaps… too full for there to be any room left for me.
I kept walking.
The sound of my footsteps echoed so far away that it felt like my head was miles from my body.
There was definitely a solid surface beneath me — but was I really moving forward?
I couldn't tell.
It was like an old computer game where a character gets stuck in the textures — the legs move, but you stay in place.
It was hard to say, but I think that's what my life used to be like.
I was taking steps — but was I really going anywhere?
This was the world around me after I'd cast away everything that "restricted" my freedom.
I could see neither others nor myself.
It was like sitting in a movie theater without a screen, where only the sound was playing.
Looking back now, I have to admit — it was a boring film.
And the fact that the girl was nowhere to be seen could mean only one thing:
in loneliness, there is no room for two.
The barren landscape that surrounded me now stood in sharp contrast to the vivid life I had gained.
Yet I couldn't deny it — this, too, was something that lived within my heart.
Every living being was always split in two.
Even moments of joy and pleasure were accompanied by a shiver-inducing wind.
The more I laughed, the more afraid I became of what awaited me afterward.
The better things went, the more terrifying the approaching catastrophe seemed.
Life was too colorful to linger only on the white.
The darkness born from that feeling worked like a repellent against happiness.
A baseless anxiety always prevented me from fully enjoying those moments.
Our memories were like water.
And the more we poured in, the more diluted they became.
That was what was happening to me right then.
With every new drop, the water grew murkier.
And then what?
Would it ever become crystal clear?
Or would it turn so muddy that my memories would no longer match reality?
How fast does the clouding happen?
Who will I wake up as this morning?
And who… will I become tomorrow?
I don't know.
"We will never meet again as we are now."
As much as I hated to admit it, that thought was frighteningly accurate.
Though we might reach a point where the past no longer hurts, it will never become pleasant unless it once was.
Was it right… to forget?
I couldn't give a clear answer.
I didn't notice at first when the solid ground beneath me turned into something soft — something like jelly. My feet sank into it up to my ankles. I tried to pull them free, clawing at the surface around me, but as if taking root, they only sank deeper.
It was a slow end for my past self.
The less I resisted, the more time I seemed to have.
That was the conclusion I reached when I finally accepted what was happening and let things take their course.
That strange substance wasn't in a hurry to swallow me today.
Perhaps I wouldn't even notice when it finally did.
I didn't want it to happen.
But given the situation, there was probably nothing I could do.
Maybe that only showed how little my past truly meant to me.
And yet, stubbornly, I kept clinging to it…
I woke to gray light.
Pale rays of the morning sun slipped through the gaps in the curtains.
My heart was pounding fast and loud — like the engine of a motorcycle.
The sweat on my skin was cold, as if I'd washed myself in spring water.
Soon, the day would begin.
I had to calm down before everyone else woke up.
Though my parents were used to me being a citizen of the land of dreams, they still checked on me every morning.
I thought about getting up, maybe doing some stretches or something, so as not to raise suspicion.
But honestly, that would probably have worried them even more.
I turned to my other side.
The sunlight slowly spread across the room, painting it in warm colors.
I felt the blood circulate through my whole body again, no longer limited to scattered parts.
My fingertips tingled slightly.
A long yawn escaped me, forcing my eyes closed for a moment.
It seemed impossible to fall back asleep after a dream like that.
But for me, nothing was impossible.
And then—
Hrrr.