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Shining Nikki - Designer's Reflection Memory - Nikki: Vast Blossom

ellipsus link + full transcript under cut as well

Note: chapter 3 might have a mistake? the girl Holly is referred to as Flower when she's speaking and in the story text at the end the flower is referred to as Holly, im unsure if i should fix it so rn its left as is.

In every time and space despite any fear, I think each version of me would make the same choice.

Withered Flower

A soft flower bud grows by the Ocean of Memories. White sand isn’t ideal for a flower’s growth, yet there it quietly thrives. I can’t help but feel curious and step forward to touch the unopened bud. The sea breeze makes the bud sway and brush against my palm. I curl my fingers, feeling its soft leaves. A brisk tingling climbs up my arm, the air beside the bud swirls into a tiny vortex, and instead of dispersing, the wind is swallowed by it. It spins and stirs the night sky, ruffling the twinkling stars above. I can’t tell if it’s my imagination, but I think I see a faint pink glow slide across the flower’s stem before being swallowed by the night.

In the distant sky, a star quietly shifts to a new trajectory.

At the edge of the edge of the universe, there’s a flower shop. The shop has every kind of flower in the universe, and a pink-haired girl cares for them all. She waters them with starlight and moonlight, guarding her little garden at the far end of the galaxy. But there’s one flower that has never bloomed.

The little flower is specially cherished, placed on a windowsill overlooking the galaxy. Among all the blooming flowers, its gray bud stands out. Starlight and moonlight seep through its stem, nourishing the tiny galaxy at its roots. The gray-green leaves stretch and then droop again, and at the top of the bud, tiny glimmers flash and fade.

Nikki stares at the gauge of her star-and-moon collection device, frowning in confusion. She picks up the “Interstellar Flower Care Guide” nearby.

Nikki: Hmm… If I keep watering, it will be too much, but it does seem energy-deprived.

<What’s the place?>

Player: Nikki? What’s this place?

Nikki: Oh, do you know me? I’m Nikki, and this is my flower shop. You can find any flower in the universe here!

The cat bell at the shop’s entrance rings, and an elderly woman with pink hair gently pushes open the door. Playful nebulae follow her, curious about the flower shop.

Old Lady: Please wait a little longer. There’s a child here who’s not ready to meet you yet.

The old lady strokes the white cat sleeping in her arms, smiles, waves at the nebulae, and closes the door.

Old Lady: Nikki, how is it today?

Nikki: Oh, it’s you, Grandma!

Nikki puts down her book, moves the flower bud under the sunlight generator, and claps her hands in satisfaction.

Nikki: It’s doing quite well! I hope it works hard to bask in the sun next!

Old Lady: Thank you for taking care of my flower, Nikki.

Nikki: It’s no problem, Grandma. I’m happy you’re willing to entrust it to me; it means you recognize my flower-caring skills! Speaking of which, I think the bud has grown a bit.

Nikki pulls out a thick photo album and shows it to Grandma.

Nikki: Look, this is from the last week, and this one is from the week before…

The elderly woman tucks her pink and white behind her ear, squinting as she carefully compares each photo. Her smile grows wider.

Old Lady: Perhaps the World Flower’s time to bloom is approaching…

Player: World Flower?

Nikki: Don’t you know the legend of the World Flower? They say that when the World Flower blooms, it becomes a tunnel connecting countless worlds.

Nikki: And let me tell you a secret—the World Flower also records the stories of each world and turns them into fairytales. Grandma, do you think this bud is the World Flower?

The girl’s earnest tone makes the old lady smile and nod, her gaze drifting to the boundless stars.

Old Lady: The universe we live in isn’t the only one. Countless possibilities stretch into countless worlds, where countless versions of you live entirely different lives.

Nikki: But how do I know that the me in that world is the same as the me here?

Old Lady: Some things never change. They transcend time, space, chaos, and nothingness.

The elderly woman smiles as she pats Nikki’s head, then looks at the bud beside her.

Old Lady: Just like how Nikki, in any world, would never give up on this flower. Whether it’s a world or a little flower, Nikki will love them with all her heart. This is why the World Flower connects different worlds, and why we’re here together.

The old lady and Nikki both gaze at the unopened World Flower, sharing the same gentle, radiant look—like ripples across the galaxy. Fragmented starlights through the curtains, casting a transparent halo like cicada wings, reflecting a bloom on the stubborn bud. A pink light breaks free from the bud, drifting into the star trails. The flower unfolds time and space, writing a new fairytale.

Long, long ago, on a continent overrun by monsters, a mysterious young warrior girl appeared. She had bright pink hair and always carried a soft flower. She often talked to the flower, but no one ever heard it respond. Some said only she could hear its voice. Some said the flower was the girl’s incarnation, and she was just talking to herself. But no one minded the warrior having a few quirks. Amidst countless admiring gazes, the girl and the flower stood at the world’s center, beginning a new adventure.

Flower of Bet

Amid the audience’s exclamations, the bright lights in the esports arena suddenly shift to a dark red. Just like the eyes of the ancient beast on the screen, filled with molten fury.

The beast roars, swinging its spiked tail. The barrier set by the fifth-position teammate shatters like sand, and the red health bar drops in an instant.

Position 5: I can’t hold on much longer, Nikki…

The pink-haired girl at the center of the red team bites her lip, her eyes drifting to the fog-filled valley—where flames engulf the tower, and their battered base sways in the fierce wind. She hesitates for just a moment before focusing back on the raging beast, controlling the blade-wielding Floralwish Goddess to attack again.

Nikki: Come on, everyone, this is our only shot!

Nikki’s face fills the big screen, her gaze unwavering. The team’s disheartened fans began cheering, waving their light sticks bearing the players’ names.

Audience: Keep going! It’s not over yet!

Commentator A: After a grueling first half, the red team seems totally drained.

Commentator B: Honestly, given their condition, trying to take down the beast isn’t the best move.

Commentator A: But they have no other choice, Maybe… they’re hoping for a miracle.

The power gained from defeating the ancient beast is a lifeline for a team on the brink. Nikki and her teammates have to give everything they’ve got.

“Whoosh!”

With a sharp whooshing sound, a dazzling cross-shaped light blade pierces the thick fog, as the enemy team suddenly leaps out from the darkness. Their health bars have already plummeted from battling the beast. Facing the enemy now is basically suicide.

Captain: Damn it… fall back!

Position 5: But…

Before the order in Nikki’s earpiece even finishes, the screen for Position 5 goes grayscale.

Position 1: I’m not leaving! If the blue team beats the beast, we’re finished!

Almost as if answering her defiance, an ice-laden storm rushes in, draining all the color from Position 1’s screen.

Position 5: That’s it. It’s over…

Nikki’s fingers tremble slightly over the keyboard as she looks at the nearly empty health bars of her last two teammates. This game is even tougher than she had imagined, but is it really time to call it quits?

Position 4: Captain, watch out! They’re flanking us!

Captain: I can’t dodge…

A silver blade slices through the dark, only to veer off course at the last second— Nikki grips the mouse, her back soaked in cold sweat, as the Floralwish Goddess’s curved blade intercepts the strike aimed at her teammate.

Captain: Nikki…

Nikki blinks, refusing to give in. There is still courage left in her.

Nikki: Remember what the captain said before the match? The other team is strong, and this fight is going to be brutal. But there is one thing we have over them…

Position 1: We’ve never given up. No matter how bad the situation…

Nikki: We give it our all. We’re so close to beating the beast… if you trust me, I'll do my best to hold them off.

Nikki’s voice is soft but firm as she controls her best hero. She stands on the battlefield, just like every day for so many years—like the very first day.

Nikki: Let’s give it one more try, shall we?

Position 4: I believe in you!

The captain’s soft laugh comes through her earpiece.

Captain: It’s up to you now, Nikki.

The team unleashes every skill they have, focusing solely on the beast, their backs fully exposed to the enemy. This is the last stand—a battle of trust and resolve.

The pink figure stands in the ruined valley, flower vines twisting from her palms to wrap around her blade. The goddess lifts her head, steps forward, and charges at the enemy.

The mountains and dead trees fade into the background. With a flick of the mouse, she leaps over a broken cliff. With a tap of a finger, her blade spins, glowing. It has been a long time since she’s run so fearlessly—even if she might be running toward her end. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how many times she falls she will rise again, blooming in front of her enemies. She is always that kind of warrior—and so is the girl controlling her.

The enemy unleashes wind blades, the captain raises a silver shield, Position 4 raises her greatsword and the beast howls in pain. Nikki glances at its almost empty health bar—

Captain: Nikki! Just hold on for one more second!

The pink figure jumps high, her blade tracing a brilliant arc in the air.

Before the light even fades, she has already charged into the enemy formation.

Nikki maneuvers the Floralwish Goddess dodging two wind blades, and then—gently, ever so gently— she presses the ultimate skill button.

Nikki: Go, my warrior.

Floralwish Goddess: The flower never wilts.

The ethereal whisper mixes with static in Nikki’s ears, and blinding light bursts from the pink-armored figure. At its center, a huge pink flower slowly blooms. It holds the girl’s stubbornness and courage, years of dreams and hard work, the outcome of the battle, and the fate of the team— Blooming against all odds on the screen, reflecting in Nikki’s eyes.

The girl looks at the monsters ahead, her hand hidden in her cloak trembling slightly. “Scared aren’t you? I told you not to come here alone!” The flower complains in a chirpy voice. “I’m not scared at all.” The girl draws her sword. “Still acting tough! I’m telling you, it would be better to wait for dawn, reinforcements, or for them to leave on their own…” The flower shakes its head. The next thing it knows, the girl is gone. “Hey!” The girl’s voice echoes from afar. The flower struggles to turn— The girl stands among the fallen monsters, eyes blazing. “See! A warrior never runs out of courage!”

Teary Flower

That flower reflects in Nikki’s eyes— A flower drawn in charcoal on the old brick wall. Its lines are rough, but the marks of repeated corrections silently speak of the artist’s dedication.

Flower: Miss Nikki?

A slightly nervous voice comes from behind. Nikki turns to see a girl named Holly nervously rubbing her charcoal-stained fingers, her eyes darting to the corner with the flower drawing.

Nikki: Holly, did you draw this?

Nikki bends down, takes the little girl’s hand, and carefully wipes it with a handkerchief. Nikki has been teaching in this remote mountain village for over a month now. She knows that for children with so few resources, getting any formal art education is a real challenge. But she still wants to do whatever she can to help children interested in art experience the joy of creating.

Flower: I’m sorry, Miss Nikki! I-I didn’t do a good job…

Holly shyly scratches her nose, the uncleaned charcoal leaving a cute black smudge. Nikki can’t help but smile, gently tapping the girl’s nose.

Nikki: No need to apologize, Holly. I can see you worked really hard.

Flower: Thank you, Miss Nikki… But hard work isn’t enough. I want to draw the most beautiful flower for my mom!

Holly clenches her little fists, her eyes sparkling like stars. Nikki knows that Holly’s mother passed away not long ago.

Flower: You said before cameras were invented, people used drawings to capture precious memories!

Flower: Mom didn’t have a single photo, so I drew one myself…

Holly carefully wipes her fingers clean with a handkerchief, then takes out a piece of white paper from her small pocket. It’s spotless, without a crease.

Flower: This is my mom!

On the back of the paper is a drawing of a woman in a simple dress, sitting under a tree, her smile bright and warm.

Nikki: Hmm… Holly, can you tell me what your mom was like in your heart?

Flower: Mom’s eyes were like the moon, sometimes round and sometimes crescent-shaped! Mom didn’t look strong, but she could lift me up and spin me around, and even carry a huge basket of charcoal!

Holly stretches her arms wide, pride filling her face.

Flower: Mom wasn’t very tall, but she could fix the roof and pick fruit.

Holly lightly taps the paper, proudly introducing her mom. In truth, it’s hardly a portrait.

The proportions are off, the body structure incorrect, made with simple lines, lacking color or shadow. But Nikki knows that in Holly’s eyes, it shows her mom’s smiling eyes, her warm embrace, her steady steps… It captures her all-powerful mom.

Nikki: I think you did a wonderful job, Holly! But… why do you practice drawing flowers?

Flower: Sometimes I saw Mom secretly dressing up in front of the mirror. She loved pinning a little flower in her hair. But she always took it off after a while, tying her hair up high… she said it was more convenient for work, said she didn’t care about looking pretty… But I think she did care! So I want to give her the most beautiful flower!

Nikki nods, taking out a box of watercolor pens from her bag.

Nikki: I want to help you draw the most beautiful flower for your mom. Would that be okay?

Holly widens her eyes and nods eagerly.

The sunset arrives as promised, the orange sky casting a warm glow over the paper. Nikki holds Holly’s hand, and together they paint the little flower that was pinned and removed over and over again in the girl’s memory. From this moment on, it will forever bloom beautifully by her mom's ear.

Flower: Thank you, Miss Nikki! It’s such a beautiful flower… Mom would love it…

The young child understands early on the distance between life and death. But she will meet her mother’s gentle gaze again and again through this painting. Perhaps from happiness, perhaps from her longing, or maybe a child’s tears need no reason at all—

Holly’s tears suddenly fall onto the little flower, She hurriedly grabs her sleeve to wipe them but stops, frozen.

Flower: What do I do, Miss Nikki… I ruined the flower. It’s all my fault… I shouldn’t have cried…

The wet colors blur with her tears, like a pulse spreading through the droplets. Holly lifts her chin, trying to hold back her tears, but Nikki smiles and pats her head.

Nikki: Flowers need water to grow, right?

Besides, look, Holly—it’s still beautiful!

The tears leave delicate wrinkles on the paper, and the pink veins unfold, like a real bloom. A butterfly flutters over from the distance, circling around the wildflowers, its wings as delicate as glass. It lands on the flower drawn on the paper, now blooming with love.

The girl saves an injured little girl. “Thank you!” The little girl wipes her tears, looking up at her with admiration. “Mom says there are warriors in the world who protect children. You must be one of them!” “You’ve said something she loves to hear,” Holly mumbles. The girl thinks for a moment, then bends down to look into the little girl’s eyes. “Do you want to be a warrior?” “I do!” The little girl straightens her chest, nodding with determination. “Great! Then grow up well!” The girl pats her head. “Because the first step to becoming a warrior is to take good care of yourself!”

Stunning Flower

A butterfly perches in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, its colorful wings gently fluttering. Compared to it, the row of decorative artificial flowers in the design studio looks utterly lifeless.

Director: What do you think the meaning of design is?

The director’s question, slightly pressing, snaps Nikki back to reality. But before she can answer, he does it for her.

Director: Emotion, care, vitality… these things you put in your design philosophy are indeed beautiful, but your understanding is naive and shallow.

The director leans on the table with both hands, his gaze slightly disappointed as he looks at Nikki.

Director: What the Excellence Apparel Group needs is that when you wear this dress, everyone envies you, admires you, and all high-end places open their doors to you.

Director: That is the most considerate care, the most valuable emotional support. This is the reality of our worlds; this is true “beauty”... How many times have I told you this? Why can’t you understand?

The director throws the design drafts in front of her, fiddling with the bouquet made of gold threads and glass beads beside him.

Director: None of these designs pass. Go back and think it over.

A luxurious hover car speeds past above, while the bus carrying Nikki slowly moves down the empty road, like a wanderer forgotten by time. Nikki leans against the window, recalling the director’s words. Could it be that she doesn’t really understand what true “beauty” is?

She lets out a soft sigh, rubs her temples that ache from fatigue and frustration, and drifts into sleep amidst the gentle bumps.

It is a beautiful continent.

Nikki travels through it, walking in forests bathed in light; Strolling down warm and elegant streets; Braving biting cold winds; Caressing scorching sands.

She records every color her eyes can see and studies all the extraordinary designs. She talks with countless designers, listens to their stories, and feels the happiness born from their love of design.

Until she catches a glimpse of a stranger—yet somehow familiar—in the distance. It’s a girl with flowing pink hair, holding a big cat in a cloak. An unusual sense of familiarity surges through her, and Nikki quickens her pace to see the girl clearly… But the world in the dream dissipates in an instant.

Nikki opens her eyes, still immersed in that wonderful dream. That continent was full of life, and Nikki is convinced it held the true power of “design” and “beauty.”

Could it be that in the world she lives in, such “beauty” has really disappeared? Is it really no longer needed?

The bus passes through the straight road, turning into an inconspicuous alley. The clear sound of the bell replaces the hum of hover cars, as they move away from the city center—to the old neighborhood where Nikki lives.

The bus leisurely arrives at the station. Nikki puts on her headphones and opens her intelligent electronic assistant, Momo.

Electronic Assistant Momo: Good afternoon, Nikki. It’s time for the midday news broadcast—

The moment the bus doors open, the steam from the bun shop wafts in like a light veil.

Electronic Assistant Momo: The Excellence Apparel Group has announced the clothing theme for the next quarter—Gold Woven “Namecard.”

Colorful fruit and vegetable juice is kneaded into various cute shapes, swelling into round buns under the urging of steam.

Nikki: What beautiful buns. I’ll take one.

Electronic Assistant Momo: The Excellence Apparel Group believes “beauty” is the pinnacle of the pyramid that only a few can glimpse. Excellence is willing to be your ladder, leading you to the true meaning of “beauty.”

In the tailor shop nearby, and old man with reading glasses intently supervises the tailor mending clothes— The needle and thread dance swiftly, and soon, a rainbow covers the long tear.

Owner: How about it, sir? Isn’t it beautiful? This embroidery technique has been passed down my family for generations!

Man: Beautiful! What do you think, Nikki?

Nikki: You’re amazing. Could I come learn this stitching technique next time?

Owner: Hahaha, of course! My daughter isn’t interested in this craft. It’d be a pity if the technique wasn’t passed on.

Electronic Assistant Momo: At the press conference, the group’s design director promised that Excellence will always be your most high-end status symbol.

Clerk: Isn’t that Nikki?

The clerk from the flower shop at the alley corner stops in front of Nikki, holding a bouquet of colorful flowers.

Clerk: It’s the store’s anniversary today, so we’re giving away flowers for free! I picked the most beautiful ones. Hurry, choose one you like!

Nikki picks a small pink flower, but before she can thank him, the clerk waves her off and continues with his delivery.

Electronic Assistant Momo: To reduce the impact of plant growth cycles on the city’s appearance, our city will replace regular greenery with everlasting flowers.

In her ear, Momo continues broadcasting the news. Nikki’s gaze passes over the low buildings draped with wisteria, and in the distance, the majestic skyscrapers are hidden in the clouds.

Nikki: Momo, turn off the news.

The broadcast turns into a beeping wavelength fading into the endless sea of electronic signals.

Electronic Assistant Momo: Health monitoring alarm. Nikki’s heart rate is a bit too fast!

Nikki places her hand on her chest, feeling her rapid heartbeat. After a while, she smiles and taps the electronic white cat on the screen.

Nikki: That must be because… I feel very happy and fortunate right now.

Nikki holds the stack of returned design drafts tightly—they’re filled with inspiration from the streets and alleys, and all the beauty she’s experienced. Freshly baked flower bun, embroidery patching up holes, flowers growing freely…

“Beauty” descends equally upon every corner of the world, full of emotion and life, conveying happiness and strength. It is the universe’s most generous gift—without hierarchy, always within reach of everyone. Nikki once believed in this, and she’s decided she’ll keep on believing in it.

The sunlight catches the girl’s light, graceful figure as she strides toward the beauty she dreams of.

“Finally! You took forever!” The flower waves its leaves in a frenzy. “Even in this state, you’re still throwing a fit.” “It’s all because of those people! They think flowers should only be preserved as specimens to stay beautiful forever.” “I’ve already taught them a lesson for you.” The girl gently peels the off the board. “I didn’t know a warrior would do that.” “Of course. Vitality is the most beautiful thing in this world.” She replants the flower in the soil. “No one can stop a warrior from staying true to her beliefs!”

Journey Flower

Across the distant sea, star trails twinkle and alternate, pink lights breaking free from time’s path like fireflies, pulling each other forward and merging into a lonely bud.

Flower: The World Flower connects worlds, travels through time, and captures stories from countless dimensions, as well as hidden emotions.

A voice emerges from the tightly closed bud. A dazzling pink glow surrounds the translucent petals, slowly spreading into a massive curtain of light. Countless scenes flash around me, and amidst these swiftly swiftly passing images are countless pink-haired girls.

They wander through their own times and places, painting colorful lives.

I watch them live—happy in their happiness, sad in their sadness, and hopeful in their hope.

Suddenly, the light on the stem dims, and the bud quivers, unwilling to bloom. Its trembling petals seem about to fall at any moment, casting intertwined greyscale images: A dull bud, still unopened; an icon of a failure slowly appearing; a child gazing longingly at a departing bus; a director rejecting a stack of design drafts, again.

Flower: See? Disappointment, wasted efforts, farewells, shattered dreams—they’re all so common. Pain is too.

The images dissolve into black tides, turning into a raging ocean. Petals sway helplessly in the sudden gale, and the sea rises into mighty waves. The storm tears the petals apart, and the dark ocean engulfs everything, reducing it to pitch-black nothingness. Only the figure with the pink hair flashes through the waves.

That’s Nikki—Nikki who came to Miraland, Nikki who saved this continent time after time, and failed time after time. That’s me.

The flower’s voice slows down, now tinged with sorrow.

Flower: Flowers are small. Facing the vast ocean, they can only be swallowed again and again, feeling the pain of being crushed countless times. Nikki, some things are too hard. We’ve done enough.

Nikki: Us?

Flower: Yes, we have. I’ve gathered the doubts, the retreats, the sadness, and the disappointment that countless versions of Nikki hid away… I am them, and I am also you. I came here so you can hear the voice deep in your heart.

Flower Shop Owner Nikki: When will you bloom? I’m starting to lose hope…

E-sports Player Nikki: What if I still lose again…

Teacher Nikki: I always feel like my efforts don’t change anything…

Designer Nikki: What do I do, Momo? My designs were rejected again…

Voices echo around me—hers, theirs, countless versions of myself across time and space.

Flower: You hear them, don’t you? Their unease.

The flower leans toward me, like a pair of warm outstretched hands.

Flower: If you want, I can take you to a more beautiful, peaceful, happy world. Like a fairytale—an ordinary girl living a carefree, joyful life.

Beyond the flower’s embrace, I look out over the vast Ocean of Memories.

This sea that has swallowed Miraland countless times, violently and coldly, now glistens like a beautiful hanging gem. It is the convergence of all thoughts and memories—the darkest abyss, but also the brightest starlight. Once I see that starlight, I can never forget it.

Indeed, I’ve doubted and been confused. I’ve asked myself countless times: Nikki, do you still want to go on?

Nikki: But… even with the difficulties, even with repeated disappointment—I still believe in the possibility of “next time.”

In every time and space despite any fear, I think each version of me would make the same choice.

I place my palm against the swaying stem, and once again, overlapping images appear on the petals:

In a flower shop at the far end of the galaxy, Nikki tends to the bud that has never bloomed, day after day.

In a late-night training room, Nikki and her teammates review a recent practice match, the VICTORY icon glowing on the screen.

On a winding mountain road, Nikki reads a children’’s art book, with a child’s drawing of her peeking out of her bag.

In her room in the morning, Nikki rubs her tired eyes and picks up a fresh stack of design drafts.

I watch them quietly, and they seem to sense it, looking toward me across time and space.

When we all meet each other’s gaze, pink light blooms.

It gently smooths away all despair and powerfully shatters helpless illusions.

Nikki: You said I could live like a fairytale girl—an easy, happy life. But I've always loved the warrior’s story the most.

Flower: In real life, there aren’t that many warriors—just ordinary people who face disappointment and tears.

Nikki: But they… still haven’t given up.

In ordinary life, countless girls with dreams still write unique adventure stories with their own strength.

Nikki: So, I won’t give up either. I’ll step into Miraland a thousand times. This is my story, regardless of the ending. After all, I can’t let the “Nikki’s” down.

The flower droops its leaves like a gentle sigh. It seems to have expected my answer but still pretends to be disappointed.

The flower waves its leaves dramatically, and a blinding pink light bursts from its core, lighting up the night sky.

Flower: Hmph, you’ll regret it! But since you’ve given your answer, I’ll let go of these worries.

The bud rubs against my palm, and something seems to withdraw along the stem. In my heart, those fleeting doubts, retreats, and fears are gone.

In that moment, layer after layer of petals unfold, and the gigantic World Flower blooms before my eyes. The star trails rotate once again. The flower detaches and gently drifts into the starry stream, heading for its next destination.

Perhaps, in the future, it will face storms again and feel more sadness. But I will always look forward to the moment it blooms again, and I too will set out on a journey where flowers and thorns coexist, countless times over.

The quiet sea gently laps the beach, taking away all traces of existence, leaving behind only a story scented with flowers.

The girl has lost count of how many times she’s been beaten by the demon. The flower urges her to go home, and the tree grows branches to block her path. “What if you fail again?” the flower asks, shaking its head. “Then I’ll try again!” “What if you keep failing?” the tree asks, crossing its branches. “Then I’ll try again and again!” She flicks her cape, bypassing the flower and tree, setting off once more. “You’ll regret it!” The flower is so anxious it’s almost pulling itself out of the ground. “Warriors don’t regret.” Her voice, tinged with laughter, drifts into the night sky. —The Final Chapter of Nikki’s Adventure Fairytale

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