After the refugee wave passed, the woods were quiet for several days.
Perhaps those fleeing people found a farther place to settle, or perhaps the resources nearby had been scavenged almost dry; in any case, the area around the shrine returned to its previous tranquility.
The rain was still falling.
The rain in the Land of Rain would never stop.
On this day, the rain mercifully became a bit lighter, changing from a downpour to fine, hair-like drizzles.
The air was filled with a moist scent of earth and vegetation.
Luna sat at the entrance of the shrine, rarely feeling a trace of peace.
From behind came a strange, intermittent sound.
It sounded like something was leaking air.
Luna looked back and found that Yahiko was squatting in the corner, holding a broken harmonica he didn’t know where he had dug up, his cheeks puffed out roundly as he blew hard.
The harmonica obviously had some age to it, its surface covered in rust, and several holes were blocked.
The sound it emitted was muffled and hoarse, its pitch completely warped.
The melody Yahiko blew out—if that could even be called a melody—sounded like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, screaming in agony.
Luna listened for a while and finally couldn’t help asking: “…Where did you pick this up?”
“Saw it in the woods yesterday.” Yahiko put down the harmonica with an innocent look, “I thought it could still be used.”
“It can’t be used anymore,” Luna said sincerely.
“Practice more and it’ll be fine!” Yahiko refused to admit defeat and blew it twice more.
This time the sound was even more piercing, startling away a few birds on a distant tree.
Konan poked her head out from inside the shrine, three black lines hanging over her forehead: “Yahiko, can you stop blowing that?”
“No way!” Yahiko said righteously, “I’m cultivating my artistic cells!”
“You’re cultivating noise cells,” Luna added a sharp retort.
Yahiko glared at her and blew it twice more, but ended up frowning from the piercing sound himself, finally setting the harmonica down sheepishly.
“Fine… maybe it’s a bit hard to listen to.”
Nagato let out an extremely faint laugh from the corner.
Yahiko immediately turned his head: “You laughed! You laughed just now! You clearly thought it was funny too!”
Nagato immediately recovered his expressionless face: “No.” Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
“You did!”
“No.”
“You did!”
Luna watched the two of them bickering like elementary school students and couldn’t help curving the corners of her mouth.
This noisy sound unexpectedly made people feel at ease in this cold, damp shrine.
In the afternoon, Konan took out a piece of paper and sat down next to Luna.
“Luna, I’ll teach you how to fold a new kind of flower.”
Luna put down the Kunai in her hand and took the paper.
During this period, she had learned several folding methods from Konan, from the simplest paper flower to slightly complex overlapping petals, and she could already fold them decently.
But what Konan taught this time was a bit different from before.
Her fingers fluttered, and the paper rapidly changed shape in her hands.
It wasn’t a flower, but rather a…
small shape with wings.
“Is this… a butterfly?” Luna asked.
“Mhm.” Konan placed the folded paper butterfly in her palm and gently blew a breath.
The butterfly’s wings trembled slightly, as if it had come alive, “I learned this from an older sister in town before. She said that if you fold a thousand paper butterflies, you can make a wish.”
Luna looked at that paper butterfly, was silent for a moment, then lowered her head and began folding her own first butterfly, following Konan’s steps.
Her fingers were much more agile than when she first arrived.
Although she still couldn’t match Konan’s fluid proficiency, at least the butterfly she folded looked proper, with symmetrical wings and distinct antennae.
She placed the folded butterfly in her palm and also blew a breath.
The butterfly’s wings trembled gently.
Luna looked at that paper butterfly, and an indescribable emotion suddenly welled up in her heart.
Fold a thousand paper butterflies, and you can make a wish.
If that really was the case, what wish would she want to make?
Her gaze swept across the shrine.
Yahiko was still fighting with that broken harmonica, Nagato was sitting quietly in the corner watching them do origami, and Konan was lowering her head, carefully flattening the wings of the last butterfly. New chapters come out on NovelPing first.
The wish she wanted to make was right before her eyes.
As the sky grew close to dark, Yahiko finally gave up on that broken harmonica and shoved it into a corner.
He squatted by the campfire, poking at the fire with a branch, and suddenly said:
“I say… after the war ends, what do you guys want to do?”
This question came rather suddenly.
Konan thought about it: “I want to… go take a look at a place with sunlight. A place where it doesn’t rain every day.”
Yahiko nodded and then looked at Nagato: “What about you?”
Nagato was silent for a moment: “…I want to go to the other side of the sea.”
“The seaside?” Yahiko was slightly stunned, “Have you ever seen the sea?”
“No,” Nagato said, “That’s why I want to go see it.”
Yahiko smiled: “Then let’s go together when the time comes.”
Then he looked at Luna: “Luna, what about you?”
Luna thought for a moment and said: “I… want to stay alive with you guys to see that day.”
She said it very calmly, as if stating a matter-of-course thing.
But these words made the other three people fall silent for a few seconds.
In the end, it was still Yahiko who broke the silence.
He nodded hard, speaking in a rarely seen serious tone:
“We will.”
“We definitely will.”
The firelight flickered in the shrine, reflecting the shadows of the four people.
They sat surrounding the campfire, each doing their own things.
Yahiko had finally given up on that broken harmonica, Konan strung the folded paper butterflies into a string and hung them on the crossbeam, Nagato quietly added firewood to the fire, and Luna leaned against the pillar, watching all of this.
A strong thought she had never felt before arose in her heart.
She wanted to protect these three people.
Not because she had a system, not because she knew the plot, and not because she felt she had some special mission.
Just because she was sitting here, watching their profiles in the firelight—if there was anyone in this world worth risking her life for, it was these three people right before her eyes.