Several years passed.

In a dream,
Guu felt as though
it was being called
by the lion.

It opened its eyes.

“Something serious
may have happened.”

Now reduced
to the size of a bonito,
Guu gathered its remaining strength,
spun the propeller on its tail,
and flew
toward the lion’s hill.

On the hill,
the lion lay dying.

It looked up at Guu
with quiet joy.

“You came…
just as you promised.

Thank you… truly.

But you have become
so small, Guu…
almost like a sardine…”

The lion spoke
in broken breaths.

“So…
that is how I appear to you as well.

The air within me
has been escaping.

I may soon disappear.

But before I do…
I am truly glad
that I was able
to see you again.”

The lion raised its head slightly
and smiled.

All that Guu could do
was sing.

“Guu… guu… guu…”

As the song continued,
the lion’s pain faded.

It fell
into a peaceful sleep.

Its breathing—
its heartbeat—
grew weaker,
and weaker,
and at last,
disappeared.

Guu listened carefully,
not wishing to miss
even the faintest sound.

But there was nothing.

Only silence remained.

For the first time,
Guu felt
a deep loneliness.

With every sigh,
its body grew smaller—
until it became
no larger than a grain of sand.

For a while,
Guu drifted
above the lion’s hill.

Then, carried by the wind,
it rose
high into the sky.

Before long,
it became
a tiny, tiny bubble once more.

The bubble burst—
and turned into
a single ray of light.

And that light
returned
to the distant starry sky
where it had been born.