At the Archive

Lyra found Mina waiting by the door of the Archive, the orb hovering at her shoulder like a silent sentinel. Lyra had listened to Jiro’s request with a thoughtful expression, and though she said little at the time, she now carried a small wooden box tucked under her arm.

“Are you ready to meet Osensei?” Lyra asked, her tone lighter than usual.

Mina tilted her head. “I thought he… I mean, wasn’t he alive a long time ago?”

Lyra chuckled softly. “He was. But the Archive holds more than documents and relics. It holds stories. And sometimes, that’s the best way to meet someone who’s long gone.”

They stepped inside, the air cool and still, the faint hum of the orb’s light the only sound as they walked through the corridors. Lyra stopped at a quiet chamber where a simple display awaited them: a faded photograph of Ueshiba Morihei, a hand-written scroll bearing the kanji for “harmony,” and a small vial of soil labeled Hiroshima, August 1945.

“This,” Lyra said, setting down the box, “is where it began.”

She opened the box to reveal a single piece of paper, yellowed with age. It was a letter, written in Ueshiba’s own hand, addressed to a student. Lyra held it up carefully, and the orb adjusted its glow to illuminate the delicate characters.