Kalpa was fictional world. Author decided who did what. Who loved whom. What happens next. Who goes where. Who says what and to whom.
In this fictional world, there was an ancient temple, it looked like a broken stage. Today again, two boys were acting on that stage.
The air smelled like stories—spicy and sweet. Kids of Kalpa from here and there and every school have gathered to watch this play. As excited as if it was their first time watching the play of Prince and fox.
The grown-ups in the village said, "Don't go there! It's haunted by dancing spirits!"
But the children? They didn't believe that. To them, the temple was just an another stage—-empty stage—a place to pretend.
One boy was named Rin. Rin was dressed like the bad guy in the story. He wore a red cloak and a fox mask that made his face half dark and half light. He stood in the middle of the stage and said his big, important line:
"Do you think love can beat fate?"
His voice was loud and deep. It sounded like something you'd hear inside a castle. Maybe there were hidden audience int there, maybe they held their breath, and maybe they'd clap at the end of this play, if the author of this story would want them to.
Rin didn't feel proud. He didn't feel like the villain. He didn't feel like anything in the story.
Because something inside him remembered.Not the words. Not the stage.
The boy across from him.
His name was Ravi, and he wore gold and white, like sunshine dressed him that morning. He was supposed to say something brave and heroic now. He wasn't very good at remembering lines, but it didn't matter. Somehow, the story always worked for him.
This play was of brave prince and a magical fox spirit. Of course, Rin was the fox, and Ravi was the shiny prince.
Rin waited. It was a big, important line in their play. The one that was supposed to make the prince say something brave. But Ravi just tilted his head like he was thinking very hard.
He just looked at Rin for a long moment. Then he smiled and said softly, "You smell like old books."
Rin blinked. It wasn't a line from the play.
Ravi added, "Like memories. The good kind."
Rin's heart jumped.
Because Ravi wasn't supposed to remember anything—not Rin, not anything from before, not even their real friendship. But for a tiny second, he did. Just enough to say those sweet, strange words.
Then… it faded.
Ravi, just like a bubble popping, his face changed. His eyes blinked fast like he was waking up from a dream. He stepped back. Stood up straight. And shouted, "You won't trick me, fox spirit!"
Back into the story they went.
Rin sighed quietly and pulled his red cloak close. He growled and said his next line:
"You'll never win! Not with love. Not with destiny!"
They danced and jumped and waved wooden swords like they were in a magical fight. Other kids from the Kalpa were watching and clapping from the trees. Even the birds flew around, happy and loud.
Ravi shouted the final pretend strike and "won," the kids cheered. Rin fell back like he was supposed to. The game was over.
But Rin didn't take off his mask.
He waited. He always waited.
When the other kids ran off and even Ravi had gone home, Rin stayed.
Finally, he took off his mask and looked around the empty temple.
He walked to where Ravi had stood and knelt down. He touched the ground and whispered, "Maybe next time, you'll remember a little longer."
He had said that so many times before. But he would keep saying it. Because fairy tales are stubborn things. Especially the real ones. The ones where love lasts for hundreds of years.
The ones where the fox spirit is just a boy with a big heart. The ones where the prince forgets—but always finds his way back.
So Rin folded his red cloak. He gently packed it away. He hung his fox mask on a crooked tree branch outside the temple—just in case Ravi came back remembering something and needed a clue to verify his doubts.
Then he walked home, alone.
But not empty.
Because for just a second, Ravi had remembered. A little spark of the truth had come through.
And that little spark? That was enough for now.
That night, the stars twinkled a little brighter. The wind carried Rin's whisper. The trees told the earth about the two boys.
Ancient temple dreamed its favorite dream:
Of a boy who remembered.
And a boy who always forgot.
And the ending they would find—together—one day.