The wanderer made a livelihood on a deserted island of my making. It was a work which I'd cultivated and added to over many years—too many to count.

Long ago, the ocean was carved to make room for this meagre landmass. It was an agonising process: To let the earth fight for some greater significance rather than another piece of ocean floor. For what purpose?

I don't know myself. Maybe it was because the world itself wanted to accommodate the weary wanderer, tired of walking the celestial path within the heavens. His cries shook the oppressive chaos twirling above him. Maybe it was the tone of his voice, quiet, yet undoubtedly mournful, as it rode on the howling winds. Whatever the reason, be it sympathy or duty, I had no choice but to oblige.

Upon the island, he revelled in his small reprieve, and sowed the land with the seeds of his knowledge. This land—my heart—now overgrown with all he could offer me, and what I could sustain, had a place for him, and him alone.

The world Minato had crafted using the Universe Arcana was transient, and an illusion, I knew, but in the following years it felt like this reality was the security blanket I needed to get a good night's rest.

All around me was Minato's Iwatodai, embracing me with an open warmth; his warmth; the warmth of his heart. He'd recreated not only the glassy skyscrapers and the solemn factories, but his friends, and all the people he'd ever seen passing by on the street. The world also looped through the seasons, as his year did, colours morphing from white to pink to green to orange, and back again to white in nature's flawless cycle. Just as equally, the 'day' cycled from chilly morning to boisterous noon, to amber melancholy to the cosmic infinity of black night, and back again, as if his home really was spinning around what he'd call his gentle sun.

With no fear, but the tiniest, bitter aftertaste of shame, I would admit that even though he'd created this world for his own purposes, I felt like he also had a little bit of me in mind, especially as I watched the moon, hung up in the sky; the starkest and brightest celestial guide.

Truthfully, Minato had no physical need for sleep, or this cycle. However, it fed his soul the normalcy that it so craved in a world that was truly meant to satisfy an impossibly achieved lust. Or perhaps, it would be more accurately described as a loneliness that had settled in his heart, and since his separation from his friends, had begun to consume it like a stubborn parasite.

On the outside, as he appeared to me, he seemed fine. But with just a single word out of his mouth, Minato could not hide how the loneliness was slowly, but surely tearing him apart. His tone betrayed him.

I was his only company.

I was the only one who could see him faltering, and falling apart. In turn, it suffocated my being—his very own seedling which he'd unintentionally sowed within me.

Minato had given me many things over countless years, ever nurturing the sprout of humanity that had taken root inside me with the light of knowledge, and the water of emotion. Of the things I learned, I knew too well that the happiness granted by nostalgia was a cover up. You could say that you could enjoy the same memory over and over again, but how long would it take before you became numb to the feeling you'd attached to it?

It was the same feeling as listening to the same song on repeat. Eventually, no matter how much you liked it, forced continual exposure gave you nothing but anger. Or, perhaps more poetically, grief, as you mourned the loss of passion for the memory as it became tinted grey.

That was how I learned about the still pervasive futility and helplessness now sequestered at the back of my mind.

I am not human; I am but a being who happened to be at the right place and time to witness this boy's quiet suffering. Perhaps that was really all he wished for, however: For someone to see him as he truly was. Minato had already agonised over the bonds that he shared with his friends, but all he could do now was miss them, and hope that they were doing well (until their inevitable passing, for healing humanity's wounds was not a job for a single lifetime).

Sometimes, he'd catch a glimpse of a tsunami in the distance, hungry for his destruction, and then it'd suddenly subside. He'd long associated that phenomena with Elizabeth, the avatar of power who'd once hailed from the domain known as the Velvet Room. The reason why he was here, still with me, still lingering in his illusory world, was because of the being known as Erebus—a monster born from the hatred of humanity. Should Erebus and I ever come into contact with each other, Minato's world would meet its end.

Maybe that was all that was keeping Minato from breaking down in despair. He quite literally had the fate of his world on his shoulders, and if he ever wavered... The consequences, for him, would be unthinkable.

I suppose, fortunately for him, he didn't idle alone in what seemed like an eternity. Even one sole witness such as I was enough for him, and over time, perhaps we'd grown dependent on each other's company.

Though I could describe our moments together as indescribable, necessity pending, they were like sand, running through our fingers even when we knew that time would inevitably march on. They were constant ephemera, fleeting as they'd came. Even handed joy amongst subtle despondency.

And now, as hyperbolic a statement this might seem, I'd never give up those tiny crystallised moments for the world.

When we weren't immersing ourselves in fun, we mired in a bittersweet lonesome, the two of us. I wonder, often, if Minato enjoys his time with me as much as I do, while staring up at stars, glimmering as beacons of hope amidst the murk of mystery.

I don't think Minato was ever one to express his feelings outright. That's why I keep on wondering. If I had to guess (or maybe it was just my imagination), the sort of fragmentary understanding we had of each other's feelings was mutual. I've always found it difficult to fully express my feelings on a matter, though that could be chalked up to my inexperience with humanity rather than a conscious decision on my part.

Minato?

I'm not so sure.

'Today', entrenched in my thoughts as I watched the night pass overhead, I heard a voice. An unfamiliar voice. "Excuse me?"

Outside the Grand Seal, I saw a tiny figure garbed in blue. "Minato-sama, I have come to say that... I have done it. Erebus is no more. There is no need for you to keep lending your power to the seal any longer. Humanity has been saved." Elizabeth, as I believe she is called, smiled and curtseyed. "Farewell, dear Minato-sama."

As her footsteps echoed in the decidedly empty sea of sand, and her presence faded into the distance, I looked over to Minato. His eyes were wide and grey as he stared up at the ceiling of his room and let out a sigh. Of what nature? I couldn't discern that.

"I guess that's it," he murmured to himself.

Yet, he didn't sound convinced. Perhaps he was simply prepared to guard me for an eternity. Or maybe... I was reading his feelings incorrectly? "You're free, Nyx."

There was a lack of triumph behind his words; they were a flat monotone, as if his mind and soul were elsewhere. "What's the matter, Minato?" I asked, growing more concerned.

He closed his eyes, and as I sat on the edge of his bed, I could see droplets of warm liquid spreading across his eyelashes, beading up at the edges before falling past his temples. "I just... I can't believe it. And somehow... I... I don't want to go." Minato smiled wryly. "If I think about it... my friends are long gone by now. I've been clinging to their memories for as long as I can remember, because before you'd spoken to me, I was holding on to them like they were my lifeline.

"But..." Minato's breathing became more erratic as pulses of what I could only describe as sadness wracked his chest. "Then I found you."

All I could find it in my heart to do was listen. What could I even say? Was this his last outpour of emotion before we'd have to part ways?

I... I'm not sure if I want to part ways.

"Remember how I told you that... I was also worried about my friends not knowing me for who I really was?" Minato asked.

"I do. That was why we'd started talking to each other, was it not?"

"Yeah... And then I spent some of that time afterwards just acting naturally around them, trying to act as myself rather than some façade that I knew would work best around them," Minato murmured. The look on the memory of 'Yukari' was unreadable. Maybe it was because Minato himself didn't know how they'd react. He didn't think of the matter optimistically, I knew.

"And all the while, as you watched me, I'd always, always come back to you."

Where else was there to go?

"I-I'm sorry for using you like that," he mumbled.

"I was the one being demanding, not you, if you recall correctly," I chided. "You weren't 'using' me, Minato. If you were, I wouldn't have listened to you."

His crying subsided. "I guess you're right..." Minato's reddened eyes looked up into mine, the clear, star-like gleams, coloured like nebulae. "Thanks."

He sat up, his body heavy as he struggled out of the clutches of his bed. "There's something else on your mind, isn't there?" I pointed out. Though, for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what it was.

Minato nodded wearily. "Nothing gets past you, huh?"

"You were the one who taught it to me, remember?"

After a moment, he just laughed, and laughed. What kind of happiness was this? "You're right. I should've known," Minato agreed.

He held out the palm of his hand and a tiny, brown seed in its centre suddenly sprouted, tiny thorns hardening as the stem of the plant rose upwards, drinking up the moonlight like milk, until a bud was formed. It burst open, deep red petals unfolding into a perfect arrangement. He handed this rose to me, my mind harkening back to the first day that we'd truly 'met'.

"What's this rose for?" I asked, holding the head of the rose up to my nose. The aroma was vibrant as ever. It was unmistakable.

Minato just breathed out a sigh, a sheepish smile and what I now knew was blush blooming in his cheeks. "Nyx, I... I don't want to say goodbye to you. Not after all this. Not after I just realised why I don't want to go."

Now, I could feel my heartbeat fluttering in my chest, drumming in my ears. So that was why, was it? Was that why I didn't want to let go, either? "I feel the same way," I admitted.

Then, he smiled a soft smile—just the slightest twitch of happiness which he'd allowed to show upon his face, and the precursor to the contentment bubbling in his chest. "I'm glad to hear that."

In the distance, the sky rumbled, splitting apart seamlessly to let in golden light, pouring in from the heavens and the stars, far, far away. As I held on to his hand, I, myself, felt complete knowing what our relationship had conceived.

The wanderer was once again following a celestial path, this time, with a companion.