That afternoon, after dismissing the villagers with what remained of his strength, Arata returned to his home. He immediately locked himself in his room, seeking silence to piece together the fractured events of the night. However, as he prepared to lie down, his eyes caught something foreign resting upon his cot.
It was a tiny, teardrop-shaped object. Inside, a soft blue light pulsed gently, as if the peanut-sized stone were greeting his presence. Arata was certain it did not belong to him, yet he felt an invisible pull beckoning him closer.
Driven by curiosity, he reached out. The moment his fingertips brushed the warm surface of the object, the world around him began to dissolve. His room faded away, replaced by a seamless, soothing space—an endless dimension filled with thousands of specks of light, like a sea of stars in a peaceful universe.
In the midst of that silence, three figures of light appeared, each glowing with a different hue. They approached gracefully, as if floating upon water. Soft voices drifted like distant songs, instilling a strange sense of comfort in Arata's heart.
Suddenly, the red-hued figure moved forward, separating itself from its companions. It stopped directly in front of Arata, radiating a warmth like the morning sun. Though its form remained blurred behind the brilliance of its light, Arata felt no fear; instead, he felt protected. The entity seemed to smile through its radiance, and a clear, calming voice echoed within Arata's mind:
"I will find you." "I will be with you."
Abruptly, his body felt as though it were being forcibly yanked from that celestial dimension. He was slammed back onto the wooden floor, right beside his cot.
Arata gasped, his chest heaving as his consciousness fully returned. He did not get up immediately but lay there, staring at the dim ceiling while his mind raced to analyze the flash of information that had just flooded his thoughts.
His memory drifted back to the extraordinary event at the temple. The gaping hole in the sky, the mysterious object striking the earth, and the massive wave of energy that had knocked him unconscious—it all felt too real to be a mere dream.
In the silence of his mind, the voice echoed again: "I will find you... I will be with you." It sounded like a promise of protection. But protection from what? If something was offering protection, then something far more terrifying must be coming. Arata wondered, what kind of threat was moving toward their land? The unknown only carved a deeper hole of fear in his chest.
Takihiro started at the sound of a loud thud coming from his father's room. Without a second thought, he rushed in and found Arata sprawled on the floor, his vacant gaze fixed on the ceiling. Overwhelmed by panic, Takihiro quickly moved to his father's side, helping him up and checking the man he so deeply respected for any serious injuries.
In the silence as Takihiro waited for an answer, Arata suddenly turned his head, staring intensely at his son. "My son, prepare your supplies. I need you to leave now and find a new land for us all."
Takihiro froze, his eyes widening. "But why so suddenly, Father? Was it a command from the Gods?"
"I cannot tell you everything now; perhaps you wouldn't even believe me. This mystery, the event at the temple... I feel a terrible omen. Something that looks beautiful on the surface may hide a deadly danger. Leave at once, my son. Pray that time is still on our side," Arata said with a tone of heavy urgency.
"Very well, Father. I will pack immediately," Takihiro answered without hesitation. He knew his father was a wise and deliberate leader—a true role model.
Seeing his father still sitting weakly on the floor, his breathing uneven, Takihiro reached out. Gently yet firmly, he helped Arata stand, supporting the man's weight until Arata could stand tall on his own feet again. Once he was sure his father was stable, Takihiro hurried to prepare for his journey.
While Takihiro was busy with supplies, Arata took a small piece of cloth. With trembling hands, he wrote a name upon it: Takihiro Arata. He gazed deeply at the teardrop crystal in his palm. "I will bear the sins of my ancestors if this decision is a mistake," Arata whispered, as if swearing an oath to the universe. "But if this is truly the path provided by the Gods, then I beg... protect my son, Takihiro."
Having offered his prayer, he wrapped the gem tightly and handed it to his son with great care.
"Take this with you. It will protect you," Arata whispered.
Takihiro took the bundle, his brow furrowed. "What is inside, Father?"
"It is our family heirloom, a gift that brought blessings to this land. Keep it with you. No matter what happens, never let it go!"
Takihiro looked at his father with concern. "What if something happens to you and the village? If I leave, I cannot help you."
Arata gripped his son's shoulders, trying to instill strength. "Do not fear, son. Your friends, my companions, and all the villagers will do everything in their power to protect this home. Your task is far greater now."
"I understand, Father," Takihiro replied softly, tucking the bundle into his pocket. "I will leave now. Please, take care of yourself!"
Takihiro gave a final farewell before stepping firmly out of the house. Arata stood at the threshold, watching his son's back as he grew more distant.
"Return soon with good news, and may the Gods protect you!" Arata called out, his voice hoarse against the dry morning wind.
Takihiro walked away, leaving Arata and his dying homeland behind. Arata stood transfixed, watching his son—his most precious treasure—embark on a journey for the survival of the entire village.
Along the village road, residents who passed him stopped for a moment, pressing their hands together and chanting sincere prayers for his safety. Arata remained there, never averting his gaze until Takihiro's figure was completely swallowed by the thickets at the forest crossroads.
The pride swelling in Arata's chest was momentarily overtaken by emotion; tears slowly traced paths down his wrinkled cheeks. Takihiro, despite his youth, now carried a crushing weight upon his shoulders. The village's last hope walked away with him, into the vast unknown.