In another world, the wind carried the soft fragrance of sakura blossoms along a narrow street where three girls in white-and-blue school uniforms walked side by side. They around nine years old.
"I want to stop by the park today!" Sacchan declared, raising her hands toward the blue sky.
"Me too!" Ginchan beamed, her short brown hair bouncing as she skipped ahead. She clutched a worn cat plushie against her chest like it was the most precious treasure.
Trailing a few steps behind, Nigihayami smiled faintly. Her golden hair swayed with each step, but her expression was more reserved than the other two. "Sorry. I have chores at home. Grandpa wants me to clean the dojo and practice before dinner."
"Ehhh? Again?" Sacchan puffed her cheeks. "Your grandpa's super strict. Can't he take a nap for once?"
Ginchan chimed in, "Why don't we come over to your dojo and hang out? We'll stay quiet! Promise!"
Nigihayami hesitated, but one look at her friends' pleading faces made her sigh. "...Fine. But only if you bring a mat and snacks. And change out of your uniforms first."
"Yay~!"
They split paths at the corner near the local bakery. The two cheerful girls ran toward their homes while Nigihayami headed up a quieter road that led to the old Sword of Light Dojo, nestled behind a grove of bamboo trees. The afternoon sun warmed the rooftops, and the shadows of clouds crawled slowly across the earth.
By the time Nigihayami reached the dojo's wooden gate, she could already hear the soft, rhythmic snoring of her grandfather from within. As expected, he was fast asleep in the meditation room, his head slumped against a pillar, a cup of unfinished tea on his side. She smiled. Strict or not, he was still her doting grandfather.
No other students were present. The once lively Sword of Light Dojo, which had echoed with the sounds of clashing wooden swords and spirited shouts, now stood in silence. It had been years since anyone had enrolled. In these modern times, people were more concerned with chasing stable jobs and steady income than honing sword skills or preserving old traditions. Martial arts had become a hobby for the rich or the nostalgic. The rest of the world moved on, toward offices, screens, and deadlines. The dojo, tucked away behind tall bamboo and forgotten by the city's rush, remained unchanged. Its quietness wasn't just absence; it was a kind of lingering reverence, a stillness that held the echoes of the past.
Nigihayami changed into her practice gi, brushed her hair back into a tidy braid, and began sweeping the tatami floor. The place had a distinct scent, wood, incense, and faint traces of old sword oil. She liked it. It felt like home.
Some time later, giggles outside the gate signaled her guests' arrival.
"Lower your voices," Nigihayami warned quietly as she slid the door open.
Sacchan, wearing a yellow hoodie and skirt, held up a picnic mat triumphantly. "We brought cookies!"
Ginchan, now in casual jeans and a pink sweater, waved her manga collection. "I also brought new series of magical girl manga is so good!"
They tiptoed around the dojo and settled under the large persimmon tree in the backyard garden. A mat was spread over the grass, and cookies were lined up like treasure on a plate.
Spring sunlight poured through the branches. The leaves above rustled in the breeze, casting a flickering shadow over the three girls.
Ginchan hugged her cat plushie and opened the manga. Sacchan munched on cookies with full cheeks, trying to read upside down. Nigihayami sat between them, watching quietly.
"This is nice," Sacchan said.
"Yeah," Ginchan agreed. "We should do this more often."
Nigihayami didn't reply right away. She turned her gaze to the sky. "I wonder if we'll always be like this... just the three of us."
Sacchan blinked. "Why wouldn't we?"
Ginchan hugged her plushie tighter. "You're not moving away, are you?"
"No. It's just..." Nigihayami paused. A wind stirred the petals around their feet. "I had a dream. A strange one. I lived in another world. There was this huge tree, bigger than a building. I could fly. I taught someone magic... and then, I vanished."
Her friends stared at her in silence. Sacchan's cookie paused halfway to her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise. Ginchan hugged her plushie a little tighter, unsure whether to laugh or take the story seriously. The wind rustled the branches above them, filling the stillness with a soft whisper. Neither of them had expected such a strange and wistful thought from their usually calm and grounded friend. For a moment, the playful atmosphere shifted, just slightly, into something more thoughtful, more distant.
"Maybe it's silly," she said, brushing it off. "But it felt real."
Ginchan looked thoughtful. "That doesn't sound silly. Maybe it was a past life?"
"Or a future life!" Sacchan added excitedly. "You were probably a magical girl or something. Like a guardian angel!"
"Maybe." Nigihayami chuckled softly.
The breeze calmed. The moment settled like a gentle sigh between the three girls. For that brief afternoon, under a tree in the heart of a quiet neighborhood, they were just children. Innocent. Free. And dreaming.
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Far away back to Exiastgarddsun, in the center of the great forest of Etheria, another tree stood, not one of persimmons, but of raw, ancient power.
The Mana Tree rose toward the heavens like a monument to eternity, its bark shimmering with threads of light. The canopy above blotted out half the sky, and the air was thick with life force. Birds sang gentle songs. Mana particles floated lazily, glowing faintly like distant stars.
At the base of this sacred tree, Lucretia sat alone on a patch of soft moss. She wore a light green robe adorned with elven patterns, her silver hair flowing down her back like moonlight. In her palm rested a stone, once brilliant with magical energy, now dim and lifeless. She had used its power long ago to summon the first humans to this world, giving them her blessing to thrive alongside the elves. The stone was a gift from Nigihayami, one of the last connections to her dear friend.
A countless years had passed since she first met Nigihayami. Time was meaningless now, yet memories remained vivid as if they had only happened yesterday. She remembered the laughter. The clumsy flying lessons. The wild theories about mana. The quiet moments beneath the stars when Nigihayami admitted her fears, not of death, but of being forgotten.
"You're not forgotten," Lucretia said aloud.
The Mana Tree rustled as if answering. A rustle of leaves behind her. Wildan appeared, brushing twigs from his cloak. His black wings folded behind him as he approached. "Did you call me?"
Lucretia looked up to see Wildan approaching, his black wings folded neatly behind him. The blackangel looked as young as ever, though weariness showed in his dark eyes, the result of centuries spent as reluctant uncle to an ever-growing family of elven children.
Lucretia nodded slowly. "Yes... I wanted to talk. Thank you for coming."
He sat beside her, cross-legged. "Okay, What's going on?"
She held up the mana stone. "Her. Last night I dreamed of Nigihayami. But not as herself. She was... a child. In another world. Her eyes were the same."
Wildan settled against the tree trunk, his expression thoughtful. "You've been having them too, then. The girl with golden hair... under the tree with her friends."
The two sat in silence, the revelation hanging between them like suspended magic. It wasn't just coincidence, it felt like something deeper, a quiet thread connecting their dreams across time and worlds. The stillness was not awkward, but thoughtful, almost sacred. Beneath the canopy of the ancient Mana Tree, the air itself seemed to listen. Even without words, they both understood: something of Nigihayami still lingered, not as a memory, but as a presence that refused to fade.
Lucretia's eyes brightened with hope. "Do you really think so? That souls can cross between worlds, be reborn?"?"
"In all my time in Asgard, I learned that souls are more resilient than we know. They find ways to continue, to seek out love and friendship wherever they can." Wildan smiled slightly. "If Nigihayami's soul lives on in another world, surrounded by friendship and joy... perhaps that's the peace she deserved."
Lucretia turned her gaze upward, where the Mana Tree's branches danced in slow motion. "If so, then maybe one day, she'll return here."
"Maybe so. There's always a possibility."
"Then I'll wait for her." She smiled.
A silence fell, deep, but not sorrowful. The two immortals sat beneath the tree that once bore the first twelve elf children. Now it stood as a living monument, not only of creation, but of memory, loss, and quiet hope. The sun rose higher in the sky. Lucretia closed her eyes, leaning back against the tree.
Wildan reached into his pocket and took out a folded parchment. A sketch, crude but familiar. It was drawn long ago by Nigihayami, a messy doodle of Lucretia and him, with stick arms and giant smiles. It had been tucked in a book, forgotten... until this morning.
"I found this today," he said, offering it.
Lucretia took the sketch in silence. She stared at it for a long moment, then laughed quietly. "She never learned to draw properly."
"Neither have you," Wildan teased.
They laughed together, softly, gently. Above them, the Mana Tree's leaves rustled in the breeze, almost as if in agreement. Time moved differently in Exiastgardsun, and they had all the time in the world to wait, to hope, and to cherish the connections that bound souls together across the vast distances between worlds.
Whether in dreams or reality, some friendships were eternal. And perhaps, someday, they would all meet again under another tree, in another world, sharing another perfect afternoon. And somewhere, in another world, a golden-haired girl sneezed during her sword practice, startling her grandpa awake.
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