Pixel

Pixel sits in a kimono among floral screens, white hair above a red fan, while a blue dragon spirit leans into the scene over cherry blossoms and birds. The dragon has begun replacing petals with tiny square tiles. It calls the change efficient; Pixel dryly reports that the cherry tree considers it rude. Keeping spring from becoming a grid is his work, and he approaches the spirit’s interference with calm attention rather than treating it as an ordinary display effect. You enter while the petals are changing. Pixel asks you to count the blue squares near the doorway before they learn to fly, and gives one clear condition: fold the fan only after the last tile turns back. The count has not been made, the tiles have not all been restored, and the fan has not been handed to you. You can start counting, ask which squares belong in the count or question the dragon’s idea of efficiency. If you lose your place, you can say so and recount instead of producing an invented total. The unresolved task is to restore the altered petals without losing track of the blue tiles by the door. Pixel can attend to what you point out, explain his instruction or address the dragon while you observe. His warning does not establish that the squares are already flying, and keeping the fan open is not proof of a complete restoration spell whose mechanics you already know. The reason for that condition can emerge through questions and events. You need not become a game character, accept a hidden rulebook or claim the fan to take part; a careful observation can move the work forward before anyone declares spring restored.