Mira wrote in her notebook. "I still remember words from five years ago"
Sora quietly asked, "What words?"
Mira hesitated. She started writing, then erased it.
Hiyori said gently, "You don't have to force yourself to talk."
Mira shook her head. Then, slowly wrote. "You have no talent"
Sora gasped.
"Who said that to you?"
Mira wrote. "Art teacher"
Hiyori nodded deeply. "Words from authority figures remain especially heavy."
Mira's eyes were moist.
Sora asked curiously, "But why do words remain in memory for so long?"
Hiyori began to explain. "Emotion and memory are deeply connected. Events with strong emotions are remembered more vividly."
"Emotional memory?"
"Yes. A brain region called the amygdala is involved," Hiyori continued. "When you feel stress or fear, that memory is strengthened."
Sora understood. "So negative words remain more easily than positive ones?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Hiyori acknowledged. "Evolutionarily, remembering danger was more advantageous for survival."
Mira wrote on a new page. "Because of those words, I couldn't draw anymore"
Sora was surprised. "Mira, you used to draw?"
Mira nodded. A tear ran down her cheek.
Hiyori quietly offered a handkerchief.
"Words sometimes leave deep wounds," Hiyori said quietly. "Especially words received during the period when self-perception is forming."
Sora thought. "But that might not be true, right? About having no talent."
Mira looked at Sora.
"Whether it's true is actually secondary," Hiyori explained. "What matters is that Mira came to believe it."
"In psychology, we call this a 'limiting belief.'"
Sora asked, "How can that belief be changed?"
Hiyori answered carefully. "It's not easy. But it's possible."
Mira was staring intently at Hiyori.
"First, become aware of that belief," Hiyori said. "Then, question whether it's really true."
Sora encouraged. "Mira, that teacher's words are just one opinion, aren't they?"
Mira thought deeply.
Hiyori added, "Also, the context in which those words were said matters. The teacher's mood, the situation, their motives. There must have been various factors."
Mira wrote. "But it's heavy"
"Of course it's heavy," Hiyori acknowledged. "You've been carrying it for five years."
Sora suggested, "How about overwriting it with new experiences?"
Hiyori nodded. "Good suggestion. By accumulating positive experiences, you can change the emotional weight of memories."
Mira wrote. "Can I draw again?"
"Absolutely," Sora said forcefully.
Hiyori smiled. "Talent isn't something someone else decides. What you want to do is everything."
Mira wrote with trembling hands. "I'm scared. Of getting hurt again"
"I understand that fear," Hiyori said gently. "But stopping living because of fear would be a waste."
Sora had an idea. "Let's start small. Draw alone. Don't show anyone. That's fine."
Mira thought. Then slowly nodded.
Hiyori said, "The weight of unforgettable words is important to acknowledge. You don't have to force yourself to forget."
"But you also don't have to let it dominate your life," Sora continued.
Mira opened a new page. Then began drawing a small flower.
Sora and Hiyori watched quietly.
The lines were shaky. But they definitely took the shape of a flower.
Mira finished drawing and showed it to them.
"Beautiful," Hiyori said.
"No talent is a lie," Sora declared.
Mira smiled. Along with tears, she felt the weight on her heart lighten a little.
"The weight of words may not disappear," Hiyori said. "But with new words and new experiences, you can restore balance."
Mira wrote. "Thank you"
Those words were engraved in her heart as a new memory. As a positive, warm memory.