Spiritrun Arena

Early autumn in Tokyo, wrapped in osmanthus fragrance, drifted into Grandma Chizuru's courtyard. The persimmon tree on the back hill hung heavy with orange-red fruit. When the wind shook the branches, persimmons "rustled" down—some hitting the bluestone slabs, some rolling into the bamboo basket under the veranda, and one landing neatly in the bamboo sieve Little Peach held aloft. She stood on tiptoe, reaching for fruit on the higher branches, a few fallen maple leaves stuck in her hair.

"Little Peach, careful!" Lin Ye emerged from behind the tree, catching a persimmon that nearly hit her head. His Reverse Scale Core burned at his waist, starlight climbing the persimmon skin through his fingertips, turning its orange-red to a warm gold.

"Captain, what are you doing!" Little Peach swatted his hand away, ears flushing. "I can pick it myself!" No sooner had she spoken than the bamboo stool under her creaked and tilted, sending her stumbling toward Lin Ye. He lunged to catch her, and they tumbled into a pile of persimmons, their laughter startling the crows from the branches.

"Ahem." Grandma Chizuru stood on the veranda, leaning on her cane and holding a teacup. "You two are even rowdier than the young general and A'kui three hundred years ago." Her gaze flickered from Little Peach in Lin Ye's arms to the largest persimmon at the tree's top—a red string tied to its stem, hiding half a stardust meteorite in its knot, glowing with cool warmth.

A wooden frame was set up under the Spirit Pattern Tree. Sakura propped her tablet on a branch, projecting scenes from three hundred years ago: Yuekui and Chizuru crouching under the persimmon tree, one reaching for fruit on tiptoe, the other catching it in a cloth bag; young Su Qinghuan running from the kitchen with freshly cooked persimmon cakes, her cherry-blossom hairpin shining; sixteen-year-old Lin Ye sitting on a stump, holding an injured Yuekui, murmuring "Little Peach, don't be afraid"—Little Peach hadn't been born yet, but Yuekui already 护住 the person in her arms by instinct.

"Our autumns have long been strung through time." Asagao smiled, holding a teacup. Her spirit pattern core resonated with the persimmons, light patterns weaving tiny orange segments on the cup's edge. "Like these persimmons—each holds past winds, yet all sweeten this present autumn together."

Little Peach was tying a persimmon garland around Coalball's neck, her crows helping from her shoulders. Suddenly, the flower-winged crow flew up, fetching a special persimmon—stardust clung to its skin, identical to those on Grandma Chizuru's wooden frame.

"It's Yuekui!" Sakura pointed at the screen. In the spatial spirit pattern projection, Yuekui emerged from the persimmon tree. She wore a crimson kimono, a cherry-blossom hairpin in her hair, armor replaced by sheer gauze, her stardust meteorite bracelet glowing warm gold. Most delightfully, 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 sharpened. She knelt by the wooden frame, fingertips brushing Little Peach's hair: "Three hundred years ago, I always said 'when the war ends', but in the autumn after, I couldn't even see a whole persimmon." 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 burned suddenly. He took out the stardust fragment (Grandma Chizuru had slipped it to him that morning), which resonated with Yuekui's bracelet to form a complete star map in mid-air. Each star matched 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 firefly lanterns, your sweet soup, Coalball's collar... Each mends the 'reunion' I couldn't finish three hundred years ago."

Little Peach's tears plopped onto a persimmon. She recalled Yuekui's dream words: "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, eating persimmons. Yuekui's figure faded, but before vanishing, she tossed twelve persimmons into the air. Stars within them 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, 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: the Spirit Pattern Tree dancing with persimmons and stars, Yuekui's smiling phantom, Little Peach holding a persimmon lantern and shouting "Sister Yuekui".

"Captain." Little Peach's voice came from the stairs. Wrapped in his new scarf, holding Coalball, persimmon powder dusting her hair from their earlier tussle, she said, "Grandma Chizuru says Yuekui's persimmons are especially sweet this year."

Lin Ye looked at her sunset-lit face, suddenly remembering that autumn 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 autumn wind, thinking, Yuekui, look—we're all doing well.

Wind swept the tower, carrying a persimmon 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 persimmon cakes, Sakura and Jiu organized the day's spirit pattern core memories, Su Qinghuan brewed a second pot of persimmon tea in the kitchen, and Asagao knitted new scarves for the crows...

Autumn continued, but it already carried the warmth of eternity.