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The kodama collect stars that fall too early. Not the ones that streak across the night sky—those are too bright, too loud. The kodama prefer the small ones that slip through the clouds at dusk, when the sky turns rose and lavender and the world gets quiet. They gather them in the folds of sunset clouds, tucking them away like pressed flowers. The stars shimmer there, confused but content, catching the last light. At the market, these cloud-kept stars are the rarest trade. They don't shine like they used to, but they remember. If you hold one, you might recall a sunset you never saw. The kodama keep them in their pockets. Just in case.
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