Chapter 55: Silver Soul (Earth Arc)

Tako, the octopus, was lying quietly at the bottom of the tank, its tentacles draped over a piece of coral. The coral was covered with moss and shells, as if it had been resting there for many years, unmoved. The entire tank looked like a professional aquascape, everything arranged with meticulous care.

Inside the aquarium, no aggressive carnivores were kept. The majority of the inhabitants were peaceful, small omnivores, with only a few purely herbivorous fish. The food provided included a variety of feed—flakes, pellets, frozen worms, and even a few small live shrimps. Each day, there would be some movement in the water, as if a European chef was pouring carefully prepared sauce onto the table, and the fish would swim over one after another to sample it with great enjoyment.

There was a small, round window on the side of the aquarium, through which the outside world could be seen. Sometimes, when the room was quiet, you could hear the faint sound of classical music coming from outside, which was quite soothing.

Time passed slowly.

The sunlight shone through the small, round window, casting a patch of light on the water. Tako moved a little, stretching out its tentacles, and then slowly swam away, leaving behind only a faint shadow on the sandy bottom.

In the aquarium, there were not only fish but also several snails roaming about. Sometimes, they would climb up the glass, and sometimes they would crawl along the stones at the bottom. If they accidentally fell, they would quickly flip themselves back upright with practiced ease.

There was a small, white snail that liked to stay close to Tako, trailing behind it wherever it went. Tako did not chase it away, nor did it deliberately approach. The snail would circle around Tako a few times, then stop, as if resting. Tako would also pause its movements, allowing this little companion to rest on its side. After a while, the snail would crawl away, and Tako would continue its slow wanderings.

Each day was like this—nothing much happened, and there was no need to worry about anything. If there was a problem, Tako would simply curl up its tentacles and wait.

The new inhabitants of the tank gradually adapted to their new home. After the initial period of nervousness and loss, they all grew used to the slow rhythm of life, as if they had been living there for a long time.

The tank's owner was a quiet middle-aged man. He never spoke much, and he only came to feed the fish on time each day, then quietly left again.

After he left, the room would return to silence.

The sunlight outside shifted its angle, and the room was filled with a golden glow. Tako floated in the water, its tentacles swaying gently. Sometimes, it would swim to the surface, stretch out a tentacle, and carefully touch the glass.

No one knew what Tako was thinking. Perhaps it was missing the ocean, or perhaps it was simply enjoying this peaceful and quiet life.

There were also some small fish in the tank that were especially active. They would swim around energetically, chasing each other around the coral and stones, sometimes even jumping out of the water in excitement.

The snails in the tank were much quieter. They would only move slowly along the glass, leaving behind a faint trail.

As time passed, the tank became more and more lively. The new fish gradually adapted, and the snails' numbers increased. Tako was still as quiet as ever, moving slowly, rarely interacting with the other fish, but never showing any aggression either.

Sometimes, when the owner came in to clean the tank and change the water, the fish would scatter, hiding behind stones and coral. Only Tako remained in place, watching the man's every movement with its round eyes.

The man would gently touch Tako's tentacles and say, "You're a good one."

Tako never responded but watched him quietly.

After the man left, the fish would return to their usual activities. Life in the tank returned to its quiet, peaceful rhythm.

No one knew how much time had passed. Maybe it was days, maybe months, or maybe even years.

Who knew who would come next, or what changes would take place?

But Tako remained, quietly living each day in the tranquil water, watching the sunlight flicker on the surface, the shadows drifting, and the slow passage of time.

There was nothing to do but wait. That was all one could do.

Tako had no complaints, for it had long grown accustomed to this life. The other fish had also adapted, and no one asked for more.

In the faint golden light, the tank was filled with the shadows of the fish. Tako slowly swam by, leaving behind a trail of bubbles.

The peaceful days passed, one after another.

One day, the owner did not come as usual, and the tank was left quiet for a long time.

The fish were a little uneasy, but they soon grew used to it. When the owner finally returned, he brought with him a new inhabitant.

There was no need to worry. Tako simply curled up its tentacles and waited quietly.

The newcomer was a small, blue shrimp. It quickly adapted to its new surroundings, darting around the coral and stones, gradually becoming part of the tank's daily life.

Nothing much changed. The days went on as usual.

In the tranquil water, Tako continued its slow wanderings, unconcerned about the arrival or departure of new companions.

Each day, the sun would shine through the round window, casting golden patterns on the sandy bottom. Tako floated quietly, watching the play of light and shadow.

Sometimes, the snails would climb up to the surface, stretching their bodies to touch the water's edge. The blue shrimp would scuttle around the coral, and the other fish would chase each other, their scales glinting in the light.

Life in the tank was peaceful and quiet.

No one knew what the future would bring.

Tako only knew that each day, it would wake up in the soft light, stretch its tentacles, and begin another slow journey.

After a long time, the tank became a little crowded. The snails' numbers increased, and the fish multiplied. The owner occasionally removed a few, placing them in a separate tank. Every time, someone would disappear, and the remaining inhabitants would quietly adapt.

No one asked why. No one needed to know.

In this small world, Tako continued to live quietly, watching the slow passage of time.

Perhaps, one day, everything would change.

But for now, there was still sunlight, still water, still a gentle rhythm of life.

That was enough.

If there was anything more to say, it would be that Tako was content, and so were the others.

Perhaps this was happiness.

Perhaps, this was peace.

If anyone asked, "Who is Tako?" the answer would be: Tako is the one who quietly lives each day, watching the sunlight flicker on the water, and the slow dance of life.

That is all.

This is the end.