Two koi swam. Sunlit water cascaded. A gentle waterfall. One koi was large, its scales golden. Other, crimson, beautiful, a little smaller. Purpose gleamed in their eyes. “Ikigai,” whispered the old trees. They swam towards the waterfall. Their mission. Their passion. The waterfall roared. Not to them. They prepared, muscles taut, eyes focused. Once. Twice. Thrice. Leaped. Golden first. Then crimson. Defying gravity, the embodiment of potentiality. A dance of color against the waterfall’s melancholy tumble. The old trees held their breath. A moment stretched. The koi were over and through. Briefly, the soundless cheers of fulfillment drowned the cascade. They leaped. They succeeded. They lived.