Where was "I"?
In countless days of endless waiting, a blank consciousness quietly resided within the damaged, scrapped body.
"Look, what is that over there?"
"Why is this spot bulging? It wasn't here yesterday."
She couldn't see the outside world. Only some fragmented sounds entered her consciousness. They were two young voices.
Strange? Why was she here?
She tried to search for the vast memory that existed somewhere, but she was shut out.
She couldn't remember anything.
She had no body, no eyes, no memory... only voices coming from nowhere, echoing in her mind.
"This dirt mound is slippery. Look at me, hahaha…"
"Be careful, don't fall…"
"Ouch!"
The two voices didn't leave. They seemed to be doing something, but none of it concerned her. She simply existed here in a daze, going nowhere, unable to go anywhere.
But at the same time, her existence had no meaning.
Perhaps in the long passage of time, she would break through the shackles of memory, or maybe a long time ago, she lost consciousness due to the almost eternal confinement.
She might lose consciousness again very soon.
"Hmm... Don't you think it's empty here? Maybe we should plant something."
"Plant what?"
"I don't know... Let's dig up the dirt here first."
Rustling.
There was a sound of something digging near her "ear."
She remained in a daze, showing no reaction.
"Wow! What is this! Look at this!"
"What is this... It's so strange... Is that a hand?"
"C-could it be a monster? Run!"
Pat-pat-pat...
"Wait for me…"
The voices receded. The surroundings returned to silence. She continued to enjoy her "tranquility."
Eternal peace was probably her final destination.
...
"…"
Something was approaching.
"Phew... It's still here..."
It was one of the young voices. He had returned, and she heard the sound of digging again.
"...Is this a seed?"
The other voice sounded as well.
They were pointing at something, discussing it, and eventually came to a strange conclusion.
"It's just a seed, right? And if you look closely at that hand, it looks like a root. My father showed me what roots look like underneath trees."
"Then did we ruin the root of this seed?"
"…"
"…"
After a long silence, one of the children suddenly dug the dirt again: "Then let's... plant it back now. I brought a seed too. Let's plant them together and water them. Maybe that will fix the root we ruined."
"I-I brought a seed too."
"Mhm, let's plant them together."
They placed the seeds next to the object, reburied them with soil, and hurriedly went to fetch water in buckets woven from leaves to water the small dirt mound.
She felt a moment of coolness.
They were watering her?
"That's it! This is where we planted the seeds. We have to come back and check on them often!"
...
She seemed to be able to see a part of a memory, but she wasn't sure if it belonged to her or to someone else.
In her consciousness, a kind of "something" was forcibly preventing her from feeling anything, like a puppet on strings.
Yet, she was actually anticipating it.
Anticipating that every week, the two children would come and water her. Today was their fixed time to come and play.
But today, they seemed to be a little late.
"…"
"…"
Several years had passed since they first came here.
She had little concept of time, but through the changing tones of the two children's voices, she realized they could no longer truly be called "children."
"I... I'm going to join the military."
"...What a coincidence, I'm going too."
"Heh heh, don't lie. You don't need to follow me. If my father isn't home, there'll be nothing left. You still have two older brothers."
"...We haven't been separated since we were little."
"That still doesn't mean you have to go to the battlefield."
She couldn't understand their words.
But she could hear that their voices no longer held the same innocence as before.
"How long ago did we plant those three seeds?"
"It's been a few years, right? They still haven't sprouted."
"They probably won't sprout at all, will they?"
"Haha... true."
"…"
"…"
"I'm leaving."
"Have a safe journey."
...
She couldn't understand what they meant by emotion.
Just as she couldn't understand why they planted seeds then and promised to water them every week.
However, after one person left, the other still came back on time to pour a ladle of water.
The remaining person got married after the other left. Every time he came back, he would talk to himself, as if still speaking to the other person.
Then, one day, that person also stopped coming.
...
"It's been so many years now..."
A very old voice made her consciousness wake up again.
She seemed to recognize the voice. It sounded familiar.
It was the remaining person.
"In the end, the tree still didn't grow."
"And the person still hasn't come back."
A ladle of water poured onto her head.
Her confused, blank consciousness was, for some reason, now connecting with that indescribably vast memory.
"At that time, no matter how much we watered it, there was no way a tree would grow."
"But perhaps, whether it would take root and sprout wasn't important..."
"We just needed something to plant so we had a reason to promise to come here together."
"…"
"Hey, can you hear me? That seed, if you can hear me, please sprout. Grow into a beautiful tree."
That person left these words.
And then, she couldn't hear anything again.
...
This was merely one breath in her long waiting process, over tens of millions of years.
She only witnessed a small fraction of the two children's lives, from childhood to old age. She didn't even know the entirety of what happened to them, their complete lives.
But these minuscule parts, during her whole waiting process, involved countless people passing by her.
Their lives appeared so quietly in her awareness, and faded away just as quietly.
Until one day, she wanted to see what those people were like.
She wanted to personally become one of those ordinary people who passed away in time.
And so, the seed sprouted.
And after another passage of countless time.
The water that was poured finally allowed the sprout to grow into a great tree.