Reika made her way through the woods. It was maybe less a walk than maybe stumbling over tree roots as she pondered her life path, but it was still a walk.
The sky was the usual eternal pink; she did not see the night and the stars like her friend had. Maybe it was because she was good at languages, or at least adapted to Juliamo. She knew from her own studies that the language that it adapted had once been called something different, Esperanto. That sounded strange to her as that was what the people here called those who hoped, those who waited for the sky to turn dark and for the portal to open to take them home.
Even though this world's Japanese was different in many ways from her own, full of strange kanji that she couldn't decipher and words she didn't understand, she in a way had a different hope. That she'd understand, that she would stop stumbling over the words just like she was trying not to stumble over tree roots in her path.
She had a feeling that all languages were that way; she'd tried reading German, too, as she was fluent in that language. The same for English, which she'd taken in school but didn't know as well.
That mystery, those mysteries, were what kept her going. She wanted to understand and have others like her understand, or at least not flail as much as she had in those first few days where the letters resembled romanji but not, and the words sometimes reminded her of things she should know.
Maybe that was what she hoped for, to be useful to those who didn't find this language as relatively easy as she did. Who had trouble with how root words worked and why it was so easy to add prefixes and suffixes to get what words one wanted.
She looked up and spotted the path ahead. The path that would lead back to the park, back to the road, back to her home. Maybe to her destiny, her place in life. She squared her shoulders, walked ahead, and took the path she needed to take.