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Were the stars always so cold? you wonder quietly to yourself.
In the dead of the night you stood awake, your siblings sleeping soundly, scattered around the open space of the clearing. You just couldn't help yourself, racking your head every time the night came, waking up to the sounds of silence. One time the Guardian caught you all alone like that, away from everyone else, but you couldn't answer why you weren't sleeping. You didn't really know yourself, but something about the stars and the darkness of the sky was pulling you along, forcing you to keep your eyes open, making you think about all kinds of stuff.
You weren't sure how to feel about it. These weird thoughts occupied your head every second that you were awake and alert. But it appeared you were the only one with this kind of problem. Your siblings were only ever concerned about food and games, not some unknown places and false memories. You wondered if you were defective. As far as you knew you didn't look like one and you didn't really feel like one. But how was that even supposed to feel like?
There were too many thoughts for such a little body like yours.
It wasn't just you and your siblings who lived there though. There was the Guardian—a mighty fluid body of water; they came through the pond and were so incredibly patient with everyone you couldn't help but admire them. They didn't visit too often, probably busy with other places like this one, but after that time when they caught you one night, you tried to avoid them during the day, opting for sitting under some tree, not attracting unwanted attention. For some reason that encounter felt too personal—that was your place and your thoughts only—and it felt like a breach of privacy, even though there was nothing to hide from someone as godlike as the Guardian. They probably understood you in some way, even though they didn't say anything, just returning you back to the Chao pile. But you still felt seen like never before and it— felt weird. You felt exposed. You thought you would be elated to find someone who understood you, finally being able to find closeness with another being. But, once again, you thought too much.
Also forest creatures, of course. Mice, squirrels, even deers. You mimicked their appearance just like your siblings did, but you didn't feel anything different. No animalistic urges to snarl, or squeak, or run around in a gallop like others seemed to have. Maybe they were just playing around and it wasn't real. But it happened every time after meeting some animal, and so your doubts melted away like candle wax.
And there were these phrases—"like candle wax". You didn't really know their meaning or what they represented, but they felt very fitting every time one popped into your head. Thinking too much didn't reveal anything; it felt like common knowledge that this was a deer, and these were the stars, and there were other Chao Gardens just like your home place. You remembered something about the cycles and re… reincarnation? But it didn't explain much. Was it the reason why you were different? Staring into others' eyes didn't reveal much—there was nothing but warm mush behind that gaze. They didn't care or thought much, unlike you.
Sometimes other visitors showed up as well, much bigger than any forest creature you saw around, almost as big as the Guardian themselves. They came, and talked, and played with others, occasionally bringing some interesting foods or new toys. They loved all the attention they got from Chao and Chao, in turn, loved the attention they got. It was a mutual enjoyment, really, and you had no desire to participate in it. Occasionally they noticed you, all alone, not bursting with life like everyone else—from their perspective. They tried talking to you and giving you some hugs and although it felt somewhat pleasant, it wasn't exactly your thing. So they left you alone, coming up with excuses like "sleepy", or "grumpy", or "ill". And something broke in you that time, your eyes opening wide and a wave of pure panic engulfing your body. You screamed nonsense and ran away, with them trying to catch and calm you down, you thought later, but back then you couldn't think straight at all. You couldn't do anything to stop this awful word from echoing all over your head, weird not-memories brimming just under the surface, and it was scary, so scary that you couldn't control yourself—but then you remember the solid warmth, the pure blue mass all around you, soothing you, making you feel safe and welcome— And you just cried. You cried like never before, loud sobs reverberating throughout all of your little body, shaking your whole core. The mass didn't let go even when it was just some minor hiccups, just a stray tear here and there. And somewhere along the way you felt yourself slip away into a dreamless sleep, with no thoughts keeping you busy anymore.
After that you never saw those people again, but some others had brought you—yes, specifically you—all kinds of food and even a little soft toy bunny. It was a nice gesture, you thought.
The Guardian also started visiting this place more often, and the Chao were full of delight as usual.
Sometimes you thought about leaving this Garden for good. You didn't know much about the world outside of this little spot, but, surely, there was an important reason why no one else tried to run away. Of course, there were all the other Chao in here, and toys, and food, and the pond... You stopped at that thought. Why did you want to leave it then? Everything was here, everyone was here. There was no real reason to escape, you would only get lost and possibly eaten. But... it still didn't sit right with you. You could think about the other Chao's lack of consciousness all you wanted but that didn't actually mean anything. You were probably overthinking, like usual.
But it was then when you started to stay up during the night, gazing at the stars wistfully, imagining the impossible.
The Guardian found you by the pond, as expected. You were almost entirely sure by now that they watched you every night—visited, at the very least—but never showed themselves. This time they did, their mighty figure rising from the waters while still being part of them. They looked almost transparent with the moon right behind their body, and only now you thought about how weird it was— how weird they were . But you kept quiet, of course. Not like they needed words to hear you anyway. You felt almost apologetic at this moment, but remembering the Chao and their needs, consisting only of eating-playing-sleeping, you supposed it was a welcoming distraction from the routine.
It didn't bother you, even if they were standing in your way. Not like anything changed up there. Apparently, they sensed your indifference, because they moved away and settled near the edge instead. You assumed there wasn't much to do during the night, with everyone asleep, so they could allow themselves to just stay here for some time. You liked it better this way. No excited screaming and senseless running around, just peace and quiet.
Together you spent an entire night like that, just looking at the stars. It was the best you've felt in your entire life.
The seasons came and went, you and the Chao were maturing, in a way. You wondered how it was possible for artificial life such as them. You never voiced your thoughts outright, but the Guardian always answered. Sometimes they even shared a bit more than was asked, something that common folks were unaware of. You learned so much from them: the language, the intricacies of life, the secrets of humanity. They truly felt like a guardian to you, a mentor, maybe even a parent. You never quite outgrew your childhood habit to call them the Guardian, even though you knew their name by now. They didn't mind. They still called you "the little one".
And you never really left your birthplace, even though you wandered off to explore nearby places and several times even got to travel with the Guardian themselves. But you didn't feel the need to leave, to escape. There wasn't one to begin with. Because there was nowhere for you to go on this planet besides up. You still wanted to reach the stars, just like before. You felt them pulling you every time you looked up, and one day, you swore to yourself, you were going to meet them.
Your lifelong fascination with the stars amused them. They said there could have been something in your previous life connected to these cosmic bodies, that's why your emotions about them were so strong now. You didn't know which lifecycle it was for you already, and the Guardian hadn't commented on it, but it was certainly not the first or even second. You had no way of knowing really, there didn't seem to be any marks indicating the count on your body either. So you just lived, and dreamed, and everything was peaceful.
With winter came the snow and "Christmas", as humans called it. It meant they decorated everything their hands could reach, placing colorful lights and fuzzy strings and painting everything in red color. You didn't know why they picked this color specifically, but something about it didn't sit right with you, especially when seeing lots and lots of it everywhere you went. You preferred spending this season back in the Garden. The Chao didn't know any better, and so they ran and played in the fresh snow without a care in the world. You still kept an eye on them just in case, you didn't want the Guardian worrying about this Garden too.
Per usual, the humans visited too. They brought colorful boxes full of toys and fruits which you couldn't find in the forests during this time. No Chao questioned it, happily chomping down on something more solid and appealing than just frozen water. You got something for yourself too, partially because you liked the sweetness of it and partially to not attract any excessive attention. Humans were too prone to include everyone on what they wanted, and so it was easier to simply oblige. You remembered what happened when you ignored them all too clearly.
Soon the fireworks came. At first they were quiet, too far to properly reach this place, and few in-between. But one night they just started and— never ended. The Chao were in awe of these colorful bursts of stars, but some started crying from the loud noises of dozens upon dozens flashes of colors. The Guardian appeared then as if on call, and you could feel their discontent, but, apparently, there wasn't much they could do. Their arms extended to the whole clearing and scooped all Chao right by the pond where you stood. They needed a distraction, and you felt the Guardian nudging you on. They wished they could stay but they couldn't tear themselves apart between all the Gardens. And here they got you, so conveniently. You weren't angry, just unsure. You didn't think you could ever distract them from something as grand as fireworks. Still, you grabbed your beloved toy bunny and a little car and just— improvised. You were making up a story on a spot, with the constant rumble from the fireworks providing special effects for the action scenes.
You had never talked so much in your entire lifecycle than you did then.
But, miraculously, the Chao listened. Of course, their heads still turned at particularly loud bursts, but at least no one was crying anymore. You weren't sure how long it lasted—you felt like it lasted an eternity, with the way your voice started to scratch and outright give out and your brain felt like a scrambled mess—but the little ones were happy and clearly enjoying your stories, and that was the most important thing. You assumed the Guardian felt the same about these little creatures, there was something so pure and innocent with them being so naive and easily impressionable.
You hadn't noticed when you stopped associating yourself with their kind, but now it felt weird placing yourself on the same line. They didn't feel like you—or, rather, you didn't feel like them anymore. It was a bit jarring after the initial realization, but maybe it was meant to happen. You felt different right from the start, after all.
You watched the sleepy pile of Chao cuddle up close to each other until everyone was asleep. Distant booms of colors still appeared here and there, but they weren't a nuisance anymore. You looked up to the stars and...
They looked warm. So much warmer than you ever imagined, and so you embraced it.
You were born under the stars, after all. It was logical to return to them at the end of your journey.