King Bird 1986

It fears neither storms nor falls. Its wings, thin as a sheet of old paper, flap with a sharp, stubborn sound; its chest holds only a small heart, yet it dares to declare war on the entire sky.

This is a game for restless souls.

It's that stubbornness that makes it want to fly higher the more it's hindered; it's the impulse to charge fiercely towards the sky, knowing there will be pain, falls, and failure.

Let the bird fly.

Let it be wild, dangerous, and uncontrollable.

Let it become a spear challenging the entire sky from your fingertips.