As the lights of the Holistic Care Guardian Institute slowly dimmed, Tasogaresky sat at the round table made from the lid of an aged Jack Daniel’s barrel, gazing off into the distance as he always did.
The “distance” he looked toward did not exist anywhere in this world, yet it was a place that lived quietly in everyone’s heart—a place where the paths not chosen slept in silence.
“Another day, and so many ‘what‑ifs’ have drifted by,” Tasogaresky murmured.
Beside him, Lampsky—who had been softly swaying with a small glow—brightened her light just a little.
“They didn’t just drift away. Because you were watching them, each one truly existed.”
Her voice was as gentle as her light, yet carried a firm, steady resonance. Tasogaresky shrugged slightly at her words.
“Existed, huh… But they disappear without anyone ever noticing.”
“They don’t disappear,” Lampsky replied.
“Whenever the Iron‑Horse Traveler lets the wind pass through, the ‘what‑ifs’ you saw dissolve into the Guardian Institute as tiny particles of wind. And someday, deep inside someone’s chest, they’ll take on a new shape.”
Hearing this, Tasogaresky narrowed his eyes just a little.
“You always shine a light like that, don’t you.”
“That’s my role,” Lampsky said, glowing as if smiling.
“You look at the shadows, and I place a light beside them. Only when shadow and light come together can a story be born.”
Tasogaresky traced the grain of the barrel lid with his finger.
“Why do you think we came out of the Mystery Box?”
Lampsky thought for a moment before answering.
“Probably because the Guardian Institute had too many ‘unfinished stories.’ So it needed someone to see the shadows, and someone to place the light.”
Tasogaresky nodded quietly at her answer.
“…I see. Then we came to watch over the Iron‑Horse Traveler’s ‘yet‑untold stories.’”
Lampsky’s light swayed gently, as if agreeing.
“Yes. He’s the one who tunes the wind, alchemizes the wind, and creates stories from the wind. But the wind has no shape. That’s why your shadows and my light are necessary.”
At that moment, a faint breeze drifted through from the depths of the Guardian Institute. The Iron‑Horse Traveler had stirred the wind somewhere.
Tasogaresky felt the breeze and slowly closed his eyes.
“A new ‘what‑if’ has been born.”
Lampsky softly brightened her glow.
“Then let’s go illuminate it—the shadow you found.”
The two small shadows swayed together atop the barrel lid.
Their gentle movement marked the beginning of a very quiet story—one that could only be heard in the night of the Guardian Institute.
コメントを残す