Spiritrun Arena

Tokyo's Minor Cold arrived abruptly. Grandma Chizuru stood under the veranda, breathing out white mist that condensed into tiny stars in the cold air, settling on the half-piece of stardust meteorite around her wrist. The stone glowed with a cool warmth, resonating with the Laba porridge simmering on her knees—longans, red dates, lotus seeds, and half a peeled pomelo floated in the earthen pot, their sweet fragrance mingling with the cold to drift into everyone's nostrils.

"This Laba Festival, we must leave a bowl of hot porridge for Yuekui." She stirred the pot with a wooden spoon, glancing at the group huddled around the heater. "Look, these dates—don't they look like her cherry-blossom hairpin back then?"

Little Peach tiptoed closer, her nose nearly touching the porridge surface. Her murder of crows perched on the windowsill, tilting their heads to watch the fog patterns steaming on the glass—they showed Locking Dragon Abyss three hundred years ago, where Yuekui squatted by a bonfire, drawing a Laba porridge recipe on scorched earth with a twig, her cherry-blossom hairpin glinting.

"Grandma, did General Yuekui really drink Laba porridge?" Little Peach asked.

Grandma Chizuru's hand paused. Her spirit pattern core warmed faintly, memories flooding in—in a winter night three centuries prior, Yuekui had carried a severely injured Chizuru to a mountain temple. Only half a bag of brown rice remained, yet she boiled it into porridge, sprinkling in a handful of stolen red dates: "A'he, when spring comes, we'll plant a yard full of date trees. Every Laba Festival, we'll drink the sweetest porridge."

"She did." Grandma smiled, passing the wooden spoon to Little Peach. "When she drank it, snowflakes still clung to her eyelashes. She said, 'Chizuru, this porridge is sweeter than the bird's nest soup I had in the general's mansion'."

A bamboo mat was spread under the Spirit Pattern Tree. Sakura propped her tablet on a branch, projecting scenes from three hundred years ago: Yuekui and Chizuru huddled in a hay pile at the mountain temple, one sipping porridge from an earthen bowl, the other drawing date trees on the ground with a dry twig; young Su Qinghuan ran over wrapped in a cloak, red sugar tucked in her arms, cherry-blossom hairpin shining; sixteen-year-old Lin Ye carried injured Yuekui through the snow, murmuring "Little Peach, don't be afraid"…

"Our winters have long been strung through time." Asagao smiled, holding a tea cup. Her spirit pattern core resonated with the Laba porridge, light patterns weaving tiny red dates on the cup's edge. "Like these dates in the porridge—each holds past winds, yet all simmer together into this present winter."

Little Peach was tying a date pit garland around Coalball's neck, her crows helping from her shoulders. Suddenly, the flower-winged crow flew up, fetching a special date—its flesh embedded with stardust, identical to those in Grandma Chizuru's earthen pot.

"It's Yuekui!" Sakura pointed at the screen. In the spatial spirit pattern projection, Yuekui emerged from the plum grove. She wore a crimson kimono, cherry-blossom hairpin in her hair, armor replaced by sheer gauze, stardust meteorite bracelet glowing warm gold. To everyone's delight, a double-pigtailed girl shadowed her—Little Peach.

"Yuekui!" Little Peach shrieked, dashing forward, but Sakura held her back.

"Wait." Grandma Chizuru took out a sugar painting. "Yuekui said you must 'see' for yourself."

Yuekui's figure grew clearer. She walked to the bamboo mat, knelt down, and brushed Little Peach's hair with her fingertips: "Three hundred years ago, I always said 'when the war ends', but in the winter after, I couldn't even have a bowl of hot porridge." Her gaze swept over them. "Until you came, I realized—reunion isn't 'waited' for; it's held in the present."

Lin Ye's Reverse Scale Core suddenly burned. He took out the stardust meteorite fragment (Grandma Chizuru had slipped it to him that morning, saying it was the last fragment of Yuekui's consciousness, shattered when she sealed the pollution). The fragment resonated with Yuekui's bracelet, forming a complete star map in mid-air. Each star corresponded to a "Reunion Knot": Su Qinghuan's rice balls, Asagao's scarves, Jiu's crows, Grandma Chizuru's sugar paintings… At the center, Lin Ye and Little Peach stood hand-in-hand.

"I've been part of your 'now' all along." Yuekui smiled at Little Peach. "Your Laba porridge, your knitted scarves, Coalball's collar… Each mends the 'reunion' I couldn't finish three hundred years ago."

Little Peach's tears plopped into the porridge. She recalled Yuekui's words from her dream: "The brightest star belongs to the most precious 'now'." Now she understood—Yuekui had never left; she'd become every warmth, every heartbeat, every "now" wrapped in love.

At dusk, they sat under the Spirit Pattern Tree, sipping hot porridge. Yuekui's figure faded, but before vanishing, she tossed twelve red dates into the air. Stars inside the dates fell, merging into everyone's cores—this time, Lin Ye's core held Little Peach's laughter, Su Qinghuan's echoed Coalball's purrs, Asagao's felt the clumsiness of knitting scarves, Grandma Chizuru's sparkled with sugar painting gold dust…

"This is…" Su Li touched her burning spirit pattern core. "Our 'Reunion Knots', stored in eternity by General Yuekui."

Late at night, Lin Ye sat alone on Tokyo Tower's observation deck. His Reverse Scale Core hovered on his lap, starlight flowing with the day's scenes: steam from Laba porridge, Yuekui's smiling phantom, Little Peach holding a red date and shouting "Sister Yuekui".

"Captain." Little Peach's voice came from the stairs. Wrapped in his new scarf, holding Coalball, date paste smudged in her hair from their earlier tussle, she said, "Grandma Chizuru says Yuekui's Laba porridge is especially sweet this year."

Lin Ye looked at her face, flushed from the porridge's steam, and suddenly remembered that winter night three hundred years ago—when he'd carried the injured Yuekui, murmuring "Little Peach, don't be afraid". Now he held Little Peach, standing in the winter wind, thinking, Yuekui, look—we're all doing well.

Wind swept the tower, lifting a date leaf that drifted far away, landing on a healed soul's shoulder—it was Yuekui, and every "Reunion Knot" ever wrapped in love.

In a warmer corner, Coalball pawed at Grandma Chizuru's newly baked date paste cakes, Sakura and Jiu organized the day's spirit pattern core memories, Su Qinghuan cooked a second pot of Laba porridge in the kitchen, and Asagao knitted new scarves for the crows…

Snow still fell, but it already carried the warmth of spring.