There was this tale once, when things were mostly kind and edges always sharp.
This tale was before.
About paper it was, about lots and lots of paper. And hands, she remembers, about a pair of hands.
To fold, to fold and to fold wings.
Sayu liked that, wings of paper. She would imagine them long and thin, made up of thousands little folds, like petals and ash.
To wear them like a cloak, spread around her, growing from her shoulder blades. Paper parasites.
To make wings - the tale once - was about the making of wings.
And Sayu has paper (with no sharp edges) and Sayu has a pair of hands.
"I would like to fold," she says then, very politely and stares. Because one has to ask now, one has to ask about everything now (the time after before has made it so).
One has to ask about folding wings.
AN: This short little story is dedicated to The Fifth Champion, whom I want to thank. The tale of wings refers to Sasaki Sadako and the legend about the paper cranes. However you want to interpret Sayu's apparent insanity and the desire to fold cranes is entirely up to you.