WANDERING FLUTE
Chapter One: The Sound That Should Not Exist
The flute was not meant to be heard anymore.
It drifted through the valley at dawn, thin and trembling, like a breath pulled from the past. The sound did not echo—echoes belonged to the living world. This melody did something stranger. It settled, clinging to the air as if the morning itself were listening.
Sheep lifted their heads one by one.
They stood on the frost‑silvered grass, still as statues, eyes wide and dark. Bells tied to their necks stopped ringing. Even the wind hesitated, brushing the hills with care, afraid to disturb the song.
At the center of the valley, a boy walked alone.
His name was Amane Hoshi
He wore a travel-worn cloak, the kind patched more times than it was ever stitched properly. Dust clung to his boots, and his black hair fell loose around his face, stirred gently by the same breeze that carried the music. He did not play the flute.
He never had.
Yet the sound followed him.
Amane paused when he realized the sheep were watching him.
"…Not again," he murmured.
The melody faltered, just for a moment—like something reacting to his voice.
High above, beyond the line of clouds, something ancient shifted in its sleep.
A scale the size of a tower caught the light of the rising sun. A massive eye opened, slow and heavy, glowing faintly gold.
The Ancient Dragon had heard the flute.
And it remembered.
Far below, unaware of the gaze upon him, Neko tightened his grip on the satchel at his side. Inside it lay a flute wrapped in faded cloth, carved with symbols no one alive could read anymore.
He had sworn never to play it.
But the world, it seemed, was done waiting.
The song returned—clearer now, stronger—pulling at the valley, the sheep, the sky… and at the heart.
Some stories begin with a choice.
This one began with a sound.
The First Note of the Wandering Soul part 2
The world was quiet. Not the ordinary quiet of night or dawn, but the kind of quiet that hums under your skin, as if the very air is holding its breath.
Amane Hoshi walked slowly across the floating land of water, sky, and pillars. His cloak, worn from countless travels, fluttered in a gentle breeze that carried distant echoes of the past. In his hands, he held a flute—not just any flute, but the one he had carried across lifetimes. The wood was warm under his fingers, carved with symbols older than any memory he dared remember.
For a moment, Amane paused. The melody inside him stirred. Not one he played yet—but one that lived in his bones, whispered in the spaces between breaths. The Morning Flute, the song that had haunted worlds and healed hearts, waited.
Far above, a shadow moved across the endless sky. The Ancient Dragon descended with silent grace, scales glinting gold and sapphire. Every step it took stirred the air, every beat of its wings rippled the water pillars below.
Amane Hoshi did not flinch. The dragon had been his companion for centuries, his friend, his mentor, his anchor. They had traveled worlds together, joked through storms, and faced dangers no mortal could imagine. And yet, even now, as the dragon's gaze settled on him, the weight of eternity pressed gently against Amane's chest.
"You feel it again," the dragon's voice rumbled softly, a sound that resonated not in the ears but in the soul.
Amane nodded, his eyes tracing the horizon where worlds bent like flowing water. "Yes. The song… it's calling. Something is coming."
The Ancient Dragon lowered its head, scales shimmering. "Then we must follow it. But remember, Hoshi… the melody chooses its own path. We only walk where it leads."
Amane raised the flute to his lips. A single, soft note escaped. It was gentle, a thread of sound that trembled like sunlight over water. The note carried across dimensions, brushing mountains, rivers, skies, and hearts alike.
Somewhere, far away, unseen by mortals, the melody touched souls who had lost hope, mended hearts that had fractured, and whispered courage into beings who thought themselves alone.
The Ancient Dragon's eyes softened. "Every time you play, Hoshi… it changes something. Even if you do not see it, the universe listens."
Amane Hoshi's lips curved into a faint smile, a tear catching the glow of distant stars. "Then we go, old friend. Together. Whatever comes."
And as the flute's soft, gentle song floated across the universe, the first true step of their journey began—the path of the Wandering Soul, the Morning Flute, and the Eternal Bond.
The First Note of the Wandering Soul
Amane Hoshi lowered the flute from his lips. The soft note still lingered in the air, rippling through the floating water pillars and the vast sky above. Somewhere, far beyond sight, the universe seemed to hum back at him.
The Ancient Dragon spread his immense wings, casting shadows across the glowing ground. "The melody stirs more than hearts," he said, voice deep and trembling with centuries of wisdom. "It calls others as well—be cautious."
Amane nodded. He tucked the flute into his cloak, feeling its familiar warmth. Every adventure began with a step. Every song began with a note. And this was his first step… into a world that was larger, stranger, and more dangerous than he had ever imagined.
Suddenly, the air shimmered near a cluster of water pillars. A ripple like a distorted reflection spread outward, warping the light around it. The Ancient Dragon's gaze sharpened. "Watch."
From the ripple emerged a figure, small but radiant, with eyes glowing faintly like starlight. It looked almost like a child—but its form flickered, shifting between shapes, as if it could not fully decide what it wanted to be.
Amane Hoshi raised an eyebrow. "Another entity?" he asked, calm but alert. "I wondered if the Morning Flute would call them this soon."
The figure stepped forward, cautious, almost fearful, yet drawn toward the melody lingering in the air. Amane noticed its movements—hesitant, curious, alive with an energy that was both innocent and powerful.
The Ancient Dragon lowered his massive head closer to the figure. "Do you know it, Hoshi?" he rumbled.
Amane shook his head slightly. "No. But it feels… connected to the song. To me. Perhaps it is a child of the melody, or a guardian of what is to come."
The entity blinked its glowing eyes at Amane, then tilted its head, almost as if asking a question: Will you guide me?
Amane smiled faintly, adjusting the flute at his side. "Perhaps," he said softly. "But first… you must understand the song. And the song… is only beginning."
He took a cautious step forward, the Ancient Dragon following, and the two moved toward the flickering figure. The pillars reflected their silhouettes, bending light and shadow in impossible ways, as if the world itself were watching their first meeting.
Above them, a faint melody floated again, so soft it was almost inaudible. Yet Amane could feel it in his chest. It was the Morning Flute, calling across worlds, stirring courage, hope, and memories that had not yet been remembered.
"This journey," Amane said, voice steady, "will change more than just us. It will reach every corner of every world. And I… I will see it through."
The entity stepped closer, no longer flickering. It had made a choice.
And with that, the first true adventure of Amane Hoshi, the Wandering Soul, began.
The First Note of the Wandering Soul part 3
Amane Hoshi studied the flickering figure. Its form shimmered like sunlight on rippling water, shifting between shapes too fast to fully track. Yet despite the strange magic surrounding it, Amane felt no immediate hostility.
"You…" he said softly, kneeling slightly so he wasn't towering over it. "You're drawn to the Morning Flute, aren't you?"
The figure blinked, glowing eyes brightening. It took a hesitant step forward. Then another. Each movement left faint, sparkling trails in the air, like echoes of the melody itself.
The Ancient Dragon lowered his massive wing, shading Amane slightly. "It recognizes your essence, Hoshi. Be careful—it is… not simple. These are not ordinary beings."
Amane's fingers brushed the flute in his cloak. "I know. I feel it." His lips curved faintly. "But perhaps… it wants to learn. Or maybe it wants to challenge us."
The figure suddenly darted upward, faster than Amane's eye could follow. The wind whistled around them. Its form condensed into a tiny glowing orb, zipping toward one of the water pillars.
Amane raised the flute automatically, as if sensing a note rising in his chest. A soft, gentle sound escaped before he could stop it. The orb slowed, hovered, and then expanded into a shape—a small, childlike creature, but with scales glinting faintly, like a dragon in miniature.
The Ancient Dragon's deep rumble shook the valley. "Curious… it is part of the melody. A fragment of what you used to play long ago."
Amane frowned, taking a careful step forward. "A fragment?"
"Yes," said the dragon, voice softer now. "Something like a reflection of the Morning Flute's spirit. It tests those who play it, those who carry it, and those who listen. And now… it tests you."
The child-dragon orb twirled around Amane's head, playful but deliberate, a challenge in every movement.
Amane let a small smile appear. "Then I accept." He lifted the flute again, and the soft melody began to rise, weaving around the glowing figure, the pillars, and the drifting air. It was gentle, soft, and clear—soothing, yet full of strength.
The orb responded instantly, darting closer with a soft chirp-like sound. Amane adjusted his playing, letting the flute's melody carry not just through the air, but through the threads of the world itself.
For several minutes, they danced—a silent duet of sound and light. Amane's melody wrapped the figure like a gentle current, teaching, guiding, but never forcing. The figure, in turn, responded, its tiny movements tracing patterns in the air, testing, learning, and challenging.
Finally, the orb slowed, settling gently near Amane's feet. It bowed its head slightly, as if acknowledging a teacher it could trust.
Amane lowered the flute, letting the last note linger in the air. "Good," he said softly. "You have courage. You may follow… but listen carefully. The Morning Flute is not just a song. It is a path. And it will demand more than you expect."
The Ancient Dragon nodded beside him. "Yes… the melody always does. But for now, this is enough. You have proven intent, Hoshi. That is all the world asks at the beginning."
Amane Hoshi tucked the flute back into his cloak and straightened. He looked across the floating land, at the pillars, the shimmering water, and the distant horizon where new worlds awaited.
"Then we move forward," he said. "Together."
The child-dragon orb floated beside him, light glowing softly, a companion for the journey to come.
And with that, the first true adventure of Amane Hoshi had begun—the melody of the Wandering Soul rising across worlds, unseen by most, but shaping destinies in ways no one could yet imagine.