A few moments earlier, on Earth:

The hospital was steeped in a heavy, anxious atmosphere. The white walls, dulled by years of use, seemed to stifle the murmurs of nurses and doctors rushing by. The artificial glow of the neon lights cast unsettling shadows along the endless corridors. The sounds of machines and the relentless beeping of monitors added to the oppressive ambiance.

In the sterile, impersonal hospital room, the silence was broken only by the steady beeping of the machines. The scent of disinfectant and medication filled the air, and a cold light from the ceiling cast long, eerie shadows on the walls. Yui lay there motionless, her hair splayed across the white pillow, her face serene as though in a deep sleep.

“Yui! Yui, wake up! Mommy’s sorry, Yui, please!”  

Her mother, her face ravaged with worry, clung desperately to her daughter’s hand. Beside her, Yui’s father paced back and forth, his trembling hands unable to leave the sight of his daughter’s unmoving body.

“Doctor, do something! Whatever it takes, I’ll pay you double, just wake her up, please!” the mother pleaded, her voice breaking.

The doctor, solemn, responded calmly, his brows furrowed in the gravity of the situation.

“Madam, sir, I understand your distress, but I must ask you to remain calm. Your shouting is disturbing other patients. We are doing everything in our power.”

“How can we stay calm when our daughter is lying between life and death?!” the father burst out, his voice trembling with emotion.

The doctor took a deep breath, searching for the right words.

“We’ve run all the necessary tests. Physically, her body shows no critical problems. Her health is not in immediate danger. However…” He hesitated, struggling to explain the inexplicable. “...though her body is functioning normally, she does not wake up. We are dealing with a complex case where the mind seems… disengaged. It’s not a problem we fully understand.”

“Then why… why won’t she wake up, Doctor?” the mother whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“It’s hard to say. Sometimes, the body heals, but the mind takes longer to follow. For now, all we can do is hope. Talk to her, be by her side. Sometimes, words can cross barriers.”

"I refuse to lose her. I refuse," murmured the father, his voice trembling under the weight of a pain he could no longer contain.  

"All we wanted was for her to succeed… but we pushed her so far. Too far…" he added, his throat tightening with every word.  

The mother, her eyes red from crying, held Yui's hand with an almost desperate grip. "All we wanted… was to make sure she didn’t end up like us."  

She lifted a wavering gaze toward her husband. "Do you remember the night I gave up on the piano competition? You told me I hadn’t failed, that it was *them* who broke me…"  

The father shook his head, his eyes fixed on the floor. "And yet, look at us… We did worse," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "I didn’t want her to feel that shame… like I did when I failed my final exam. Everyone looked at me as if I were worthless. I wanted her to be strong. But I didn’t see… that I was breaking her."  

The doctor, who had been standing in the background, took a step forward. His words were calm, but carried a weight that sank deeply into their hearts.  

"I understand that you wanted the best for your daughter. But children are not machines. They need discipline, yes, but above all, they need love and understanding. If she wakes up… she will need you. Not as overseers. But as her parents."  

These words struck them both like a thunderclap. The father turned his eyes away, unable to look at his daughter in such a state.  

The mother, broken, rested her head on Yui’s bed, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "Yui… we’re so sorry… We promise, if you wake up, we’ll do everything to understand you. We’ll do everything to fix our mistakes… So please, sweetheart, wake up…"  

The father, still standing apart, murmured as if afraid his words would vanish into the void. "Yui… don’t leave us. Give us a chance to make it right."  

---

Back in the Nyanko World:

I plunged deeper into the forest, guided by the blue butterfly, my steps quickening as I distanced myself. The trees seemed to close in around me, their twisted branches casting sinister shadows under the moonlight. Every rustling leaf or snapping branch made me jump, as if the forest itself were trying to hold me back. My heart pounded in my chest, but I had to keep going, to escape before the Guardian awoke.

Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me. A shiver of fear ran through me. Was it one of the monsters Seiryu had mentioned? My mind raced with terrifying possibilities.

Before I could react, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows.

“Kumo?!” I gasped, my breath still short. “What are you doing here?”

He approached, his ears slightly lowered but his eyes sparkling.

“You weren’t planning on leaving without me, nya?” he said, tilting his head.

“I can’t let you come with me, Kumo. Your mother must be worried sick by now. You should go back to her.”

“And you? What about you?” he asked, his voice tinged with sadness.

“Me? I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. Go back to sleep; I’ll manage.”

Kumo remained silent for a moment before speaking softly.

“Yui… I thought I was wrong about you. But when I think about everything you do and say… I can tell something’s not right. Don’t lie to me, please. I want to be someone you can count on.”

I realized there was no use insisting. Kumo was right. And staying here to argue risked getting us caught if the Guardian woke up. With a resigned sigh, I nodded.

“Haa… Fine, come with me. But we can’t stay here. I’ll explain everything once we’re safe.”

Without another word, we continued on. Once far enough from the camp, we began running, still guided by the faint glow of the blue butterfly.

The forest’s edge greeted us with unexpected clarity. Moonlight pierced the dense branches, creating an almost soothing atmosphere. At last, we escaped the endless forest, and relief reflected on our weary faces.

“We need to move quickly and find shelter,” I said, scanning the surroundings.

The forest gave way to a narrow path lined with tall grasses, silvered by the moonlight. The gentle wind stirred the blades in a silent dance. The night’s quiet felt almost unreal after the forest’s oppression.

After walking for a while, Kumo sighed.

“I have to admit… this time, I’m really tired, nya.”

I looked at him, smiling.

“So, earlier, you were faking it…?”

Laughter erupted from both of us at the same time. We had both fooled the Guardian, pretending to be exhausted to lull him into sleep and escape. It was a miracle it had worked.

As our laughter subsided, a sound caught our attention. A creaking cart approached on the path behind us. Hoping for a stroke of luck, we decided to hitch a ride.

The cart stopped, and aboard was a merchant cat, plump and draped in a worn cape. His gray fur speckled with white gave him a wise and slightly tired look.

“Well, what are two kids doing out here all alone in the middle of the night?” he asked in a gravelly voice. “You’re looking for trouble, I’d say.”

Kumo and I exchanged silent glances, knowing how right he was.

“Sir… Could you give us a ride, please?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes, nya! We’d be so grateful!” Kumo added enthusiastically.

The old cat raised an eyebrow before smiling.

“I’m not about to leave two kids alone in the dark. Hop in the back.”

We thanked him warmly before climbing into the cart. The interior was cluttered with crates filled with various goods: colorful fabrics, thick wool coats, and delicately folded scarves were packed into large wooden boxes. There were also floral-patterned dresses and simpler capes, likely for travelers. Everything was neatly arranged, giving the impression that the merchant must travel to many towns to sell his wares.

Sitting in the back, silence settled until I decided to break it.

“Kumo… When did you realize something was wrong with me?”

“The dandelion field,” he replied simply.

“The dandelion field…? I don’t think I did anything there to raise suspicion.”

“No, you didn’t show anything. But the seeds you made float… they only respond to those who carry great pain within them. They react to that sorrow by offering something, as if to lighten a heavy heart.”

I fell silent, slightly troubled.

“So I really was exposed…”

“I thought I was mistaken at first. But looking back and noticing the details, I realized there was something. Still, I couldn’t guess without you telling me the truth.”

I took a deep breath, searching for the words to describe the weight on my heart.

“Kumo… Have you ever looked into a mirror and seen nothing? To meet your own reflection but feel like a stranger to the person staring back at you? As if you were a shadow among the living, a name without a story.”

Kumo remained silent, his ears turned toward me, catching every word with care.

“After my grandmother passed away, I lost the one thing that gave meaning to my world. My existence slowly crumbled, each moment dictated by expectations and obligations. I stopped asking myself what I truly wanted because it always came second to what I had to do. Everything felt frozen, locked, and the further I went, the more I felt like I was disappearing.”

I noticed the glimmer of compassion in his eyes.

“And no one reached out a hand… or, well, a paw?” he asked gently.

“A few people tried, but even their support wasn’t enough to pull me out of that emptiness. So, I found myself alone, facing myself, and… I wandered, like a breath without a purpose, until I reached the lake. And when I fell… it felt like liberation. As if the lake had offered me a chance to be reborn, far from the chains I carried.”

Kumo looked away, visibly moved.

“I’m sorry, Yui. No one should feel like that.”

A sad smile spread across my lips.

“It’s not your fault, Kumo. And in a way, being here has allowed me to piece together parts of myself I’d scattered. Maybe in this world, I can finally understand who I am.”

“But the Guardian said you could die if you stayed here…”

I shook my head, trying to reassure him.

“Don’t worry; he was just trying to scare me. Everything will be fine, Kumo.”

“If you say so, nya…”

Before the silence could fully settle, Kumo shifted slightly, diving a paw into his thick fur. After a few seconds of effort, he pulled out a small, braided bracelet made of silver threads adorned with shimmering beads.

“Yui… before you fall asleep, I have something for you, nya,” he said, his voice unusually serious.

I turned to him, intrigued.

“What is it, Kumo?”

He held out the bracelet with unexpected gentleness, his eyes shining with an emotion he barely managed to hide.

“It’s a bracelet I found in an old magic shop. It’s supposed to protect the wearer from bad dreams and malevolent spirits, nya. I want you to have it. That way, I’ll know you’re safe, even when I can’t always be there to protect you.”

Touched by his gesture, I carefully took the bracelet and slipped it around my wrist.

“Thank you, Kumo… I already feel safer because of you.”

He looked away, slightly embarrassed, but his purring betrayed his satisfaction.

“Nya, it’s nothing, really. Now, sleep well, Yui. I’ll watch over you.”

I smiled tenderly, clutching the bracelet to my chest.

Silence fell again, and exhaustion caught up with us. Slowly, my eyelids grew heavy, and I finally drifted off to sleep to the rhythmic creaking of the cart carrying us into the unknown.

“Well, those two sure can talk!” grumbled the merchant with a wry smile, his eyes twinkling with mischief.