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Purarine Project

Gyakko

Gyakko - Backlights - Maaya Sakamoto

C.W.'s Inner Thoughts (Perceptions)
towards Mei'li de ren (Mumu)

Inner Thoughts story below is written and arranged by
Mumu Alpaka (+ GPT assist) on 22 Oct 2025

Status: Impotent
(I will need take some more time to improve the wordings.. lmao)

___________________________

  What a melancholy dream that I was in, was it heaven / hell (I pondered)…

Each time I awaken, I face the same pale vault above —
not sky, not stone — just the echo of creation’s last sigh.
A sky stitched from prayers that never reached their mark.

 It reminds me: This is no longer life.

There’s no doorway out of eternity,
only the patience to decay slowly inside the light.

___________________________

I used to believe endings were merciful —
but here, even endings have forgotten how to arrive.
The story hangs, half-written, in the breath of angels.
Neither fall nor salvation.

Only the rhythm of wings and the sound of waves
breaking against unseen shores.

If fate was carved before the dawn of thought,
then I wish I’d vowed
never to dream of tomorrows
that were never mine to choose.

___________________________

 In the quiet between battles, I sometimes drift —
A gentle dream, fragile as fog.
(although) I still see your silhouette through the storm,
your hand almost touching mine.

I know it’s only illusion, the way dying stars still shine.
Yet I run — I always run —
through fire, through bone, through the choir of screams.

Just one more heartbeat closer…  before the dawn tears it apart,
and I wake — smiling — as if I’ve held you.

___________________________

 I really thirst for something nameless.
Not victory, not forgiveness — something else.
The kind of ache that remembers when the soul was whole.

If I stand still too long, the ghosts of my past selves wrap around my feet like roots,
whispering the names of those I’ve slain.

So I walk forward. Always forward.
Because stillness is a form of surrender.

___________________________

 They said once —  All spirits are equal when reborn beyond the veil.

How tender that lie sounds, when the fallen burn brighter than the faithful.
Equality means little when the sky bleeds.
Pain becomes the only scripture we truly memorize.

We flinch once — then wear it like armor.
That’s how we survive the holy war.

___________________________

 While pn the edge of despair,
I heard someone (Marianne) call out your name out loud —
her voice shatters the fog like distant thunder. "Mumu, catch this!!..."

Even if the storm starts to swallows me,
and the echos of her voice tries to reaches to you from the other side...
I want you to know I’m still here, still fighting beneath the ruin,
where the light and the dark forget their difference.

Maybe that’s where love hides — between the clash of faith and fury.
And eventually I will try my best to reach to you..

___________________________

(Mumu whom was seen reaching hyperspace speeds,
after holding onto the Spear of Light that was thrown by Lady Marianne from the other side of the world..
Blue Blue Blue... his power modes changes from Red (Power) to Blue (Super Speed)... )

___________________________

 Easily tearing through the sound barrier's silence —
Reaching to the other side with lightspeed, faster than ever, with ever so blinding speeds  —

Keep running!  —

The rain from the heavens begins to slow,
each drop suspended,
reaching for your skin as if to remember you.

You catch a glimpse —
your reflection trembling in a shallow pool beneath your feet.

The world blurs, your form outlined in flowing blue light —
a current of tachyons dancing across your body, alive, divine, unstoppable.


The heavenly rainfalls starts to slow down.. almost trying to touch on your skin
You then saw your blurry reflection on the pool of water on the ground..
Your saw your whole body was covered in a blue flowing light (Tachyons)

(below needs to be repaired a bit..)

... not because I’m brave, but because silence terrifies me.
Each wave of demons rises like a tide of regrets.
Their eyes mirror ours — lost things seeking form.
The rain baptizes me in mud and ash;
my armor becomes a mirror for the dying sun.

___________________________

I’m right here — half buried, half reborn.
And still I chase you,
just a little further into the light I want to call mine.

The war will never end.
But perhaps that’s not tragedy —
perhaps it’s proof
that I still believe in something worth fighting for.

___________________________



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