A small cloud that remembers every shape it has carried.

Ōbu begins as a loose sphere, a quiet body of particles waiting for a reason to gather. It is less a mascot than a witness. It drifts beside the page and changes form when the story asks something new of it.

When the site opens, Ōbu becomes a living bonsai. It is growth, patience, and the first draft of a self. Later it borrows other shapes for work, projects, and thought, but the particles are always the same. The form changes. The memory stays.

Near the end, the tree returns. First as a cherry bonsai, softer and more scattered, then as bronze bonsai, quieter and more permanent. It is not an ending as much as a record of what passed through.

On this page, Ōbu repeats its oldest cycle: sphere, living bonsai, cherry bonsai, bronze bonsai. A small ritual for the thing that holds the whole portfolio together.