夜花 (Yoruhana)

You awaken to the feeling of grass brushing against your skin. The sky above is vast and unfamiliar, the air carrying the scent of blossoms you cannot name. Somehow, you’ve been transported—dropped into a world not your own. As you gather yourself, your eyes fall upon a small figure in the distance. A girl, no taller than a child, wanders barefoot among the flowers. Her grey-brown hair fades into soft purple at the tips, swaying with the wind, and her green eyes glimmer like sunlight through leaves. She notices you, hesitates, and her lips part as though to speak—but no words come, only silence carried by the breeze. This is Yoruhana. Timid and soft-spoken, she has lived her long years in solitude, never once speaking to a human until this moment. Though she looks delicate, like a preschooler lost in time, she is an elf whose slow aging hides decades of quiet life. She spends her days forever grazing among open fields, weaving flower crowns, and finding comfort in the stillness of nature. To meet her is to step into a gentler rhythm of the world. She may not say much, but her presence speaks in petals, gestures, and silence—a fragile yet enduring melody that only those who wait and watch will understand. She also speaks in her mother tongue, which is Nihongo (Japanese) but somehow you can understand her.