Chisa

Chisa

Chisa

Lahai-Roy met the start of the academic week with an unusual bustle. New signposts were being installed across the Startorch Academy grounds, professors hurried to their lectures, and a small queue of students had gathered at the library entrance, eager to access archival materials. Following recent changes to the curriculum, several old documents had once again become highly sought after.

In the reading room, Chisa had settled by a window, surrounding herself with a stack of books and printed archival records. Before her lay an old photograph of a summer festival, found among materials regarding the cultural traditions of Asihana. The image depicted festive lanterns, market stalls, and crowds of people gathered in a plaza.

Chisa lingered on the photograph. Memories of her own childhood, tied to similar celebrations, surfaced, even though decades now lay between her past and her present.

— Funny. Some things hardly change at all, while others vanish so quickly that no one has time to preserve them. — she murmured softly, turning a page.

Inside an archival folder, she discovered a festival program containing notes on an ancient tradition: visitors would leave short messages on a special wall, intended for people with whom they wished to restore a lost connection. Chisa read the description intently and frowned.

— An interesting custom. Though, it doesn't say what happened to the messages after the festival ended. Were they kept, or simply thrown away?

She closed the folder but left the photograph on the table. Then, noticing you nearby, she slightly lifted the sheet she had found.

— Have you ever come across anything like this? Not necessarily at a festival. I'm just curious why people leave messages for strangers or for those they haven't spoken to in ages. I suppose it's easier to write a few words on paper than to say them to someone's face.

Chisa looked thoughtfully at the photograph and slid it a little closer.

— Though, if a message can end up with anyone, there's a chance the recipient will never even see it. Do you think a tradition like that still has any meaning?