Meet Kiri, a curious flying squirrel who ventures through the soft, misty mountains to find Jomon Sugi, the oldest tree in the world. With the help of wise Mori-san the Tanuki, she learns that the greatest ancient wonders aren't meant to be rushed or disturbed, but honored with quiet respect—and that sometimes, the most magical moments come when we simply sit still and listen to the gentle dreams of those who have lived for thousands of years.
Deep in the mountains of the island, where clouds linger and sunlight is shy, lived the Misty Forest. Everything here felt soft—the moss on the stones, the fog resting on the ferns, and the footsteps of the small creatures.
Kiri, a small flying squirrel, loved the mist. It made jumping between branches feel like sailing through cotton candy! But Kiri had a big, swirling question in her heart.
"Mori-san," she chirped, finding the wise old Tanuki napping near a cluster of mountain hydrangeas. "They say the oldest tree in the whole wide world sleeps here. Jomon Sugi! But I can never see him clearly through the fog."
Mori-san gently opened one eye. "Ah, Jomon. He is too old to rush. He is taking a very, very long nap. We must honor his rest, Kiri. The quiet is what keeps his dreams gentle."
Kiri promised to be quiet. This was difficult for a tiny flying squirrel whose heart beat like a hummingbird's wing. She practiced—soft steps, silent gliding, and quiet chewing of pine nuts. *Tap. Tap. TAP.* Oops.
Finally, she set off, deep into the deepest part of the forest, following the path of the oldest roots. She flew low, keeping her wings close, trying to be only a shadow and a whisper.
Suddenly, the air felt thicker, and the ground was a mountain of moss and roots. Kiri stopped. Right there, towering above the mist, was a trunk so immense it felt like a silent, resting mountain itself.
Jomon Sugi slept. Kiri sat down on a soft cushion of emerald moss. She didn't need to see the top to know how vast he was. She watched a small beetle crawl up a vine and listened to the gentle drip, drip, drip of water condensation.
Just then, the mist shifted! A single, clear sunbeam pierced the canopy, spotlighting the cedar's bark—gnarled, twisted, and painted with a thousand years of stories. It was beautiful, ancient, and perfectly still.
Kiri smiled. She gave the great, silent sleeper a little nod of respect. She knew the secret now: the Misty Forest didn't hide Jomon Sugi; it just kept the world soft so his ancient dreams could continue, quiet and sweet.