por Bill Tiepelman
Interstellar Harmony
The universe wasn’t always an empty void speckled with stars. Before time itself was counted, before the first atom trembled into existence, there were the Koi. They swam through the nothingness, carving rivers of stardust in their wake. The first, Hikari, was luminous, her scales painted in nebulae and celestial pinks, her long fins flowing like cosmic silk. The second, Kuro, was the abyss itself, speckled with distant galaxies and glowing constellations, his body curving with the fluid grace of the unseen forces that shaped reality. They weren’t gods, though they had been mistaken for such. No, gods were loud. Gods demanded sacrifice, built temples, whispered into the ears of desperate mortals. The Koi simply were. Silent, eternal, patient. But in their silence, they dictated the currents of time, the balance of creation and destruction, the unseen tides that pulled galaxies into spirals and planets into orbit. The Argument That Created Everything For eons, Hikari and Kuro swam in perfect harmony, circling, shifting, maintaining the great cosmic balance. But then, one day—though "day" is a flimsy word for creatures who existed before the concept of days—they had an argument. “You always turn left first,” Kuro grumbled. Hikari flicked her tail, scattering violet light. “No, I don’t.” “Yes, you do. Every time we complete a cycle, you veer left first. I have to adjust.” “Maybe you're just slow to react.” “Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose to annoy me.” She swam in an elegant loop. “Oh please. If I wanted to annoy you, I’d nudge you into a black hole.” Kuro snorted. “You tried that once. It tickled.” Their banter was harmless at first—just another ripple in the timeless sea of their existence. But then, for the first time in eternity, they did something unprecedented. They swam in opposite directions. The result was catastrophic. The Big Bang Was Just Koi Drama The instant they pulled away from each other, the universe exploded. Light and energy erupted into the void, expanding outward with a force neither of them had ever witnessed. Stars ignited, matter coalesced, and time itself began its relentless march. “See what you did?” Hikari huffed, staring at the chaos. Kuro flicked his fins, watching a nebula swirl into existence. “Me? You pulled away first.” “I did not!” “You absolutely did. Look, now there’s gravity. Gravity, Hikari!” They watched as planets formed, spinning like tiny marbles in the vastness of space. “Ooh, that one’s blue,” Hikari mused, peering at a newborn planet. Kuro eyed it. “Looks squishy.” “Wanna mess with it?” “Obviously.” And thus, their attention turned toward a small, fragile world floating in the new expanse of the cosmos. A world that would come to be known, in some distant future, as Earth. The First (and Last) Time They Got Involved For eons, they observed the planet from a distance, nudging its fate with the subtlest flicks of their tails. They watched single-celled organisms evolve, landmasses shift, and creatures crawl from the depths of the sea. They made bets. “That one with the scales,” Kuro said, pointing to a lumbering beast with tiny arms. “Five cycles before it dies off.” “Nah, ten,” Hikari countered. They watched empires rise and fall, mortals carve stories into stone, and people build temples in the Koi’s honor without ever realizing their celestial patrons had never actually asked for worship. But then humans started making really bad decisions. “Should we do something?” Hikari asked one day as she watched a war unfold. Kuro shrugged. “Mortals are weird.” “They’re blowing each other up over imaginary lines.” “Again, weird.” “We should intervene.” Kuro groaned. “Hikari, the last time we ‘intervened,’ we created the entire universe. Maybe we sit this one out.” But Hikari was stubborn, and Kuro, despite his protests, was curious. So, they did something neither of them had ever attempted before. They descended. And Earth would never be the same again. The Koi Touch Down Hikari and Kuro didn’t land so much as they materialized. One moment, they were suspended in the vastness of space, gazing down at Earth like bemused aquarium owners. The next, they were swimming through the sky, invisible to the mortals below. It was chaotic. Birds screeched and scattered as Hikari accidentally phased through a flock of geese. “Oops.” Kuro, already regretting this decision, grimaced. “See? This is why we don’t do things.” But Hikari wasn’t listening. She was fixated on the glowing cities sprawled across the continents. Humanity had advanced far beyond sticks and fire. They had electricity. Machines. Sandwiches. “They built lights,” she whispered in awe. “I noticed.” She twirled, trailing shimmering cosmic dust in her wake. “I like it.” Kuro rolled his eyes. “Great. Can we go back now?” Humanity's First Koi Sighting Of course, they didn’t leave. Curiosity had a hold of them, and so they drifted lower, observing the strange creatures below. And that’s when one particular human saw them. He was an old fisherman, out late, his boat bobbing in the darkness of the sea. He had seen many things in his long years, but nothing quite like this—two glowing, massive koi circling in the sky. He dropped his fishing rod. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Hikari and Kuro froze. “...He can see us?” Hikari whispered. “No, he can’t.” The fisherman squinted. “You’re real, ain’t ya?” Kuro sighed. “We should leave.” “You should leave,” Hikari countered, then turned to the fisherman. “Hi!” Kuro muttered something about cosmic disasters waiting to happen. The Legend of the Celestial Fish The fisherman was, to put it mildly, losing his mind. But in the way that old, wise men often do—with a mix of terror, curiosity, and the deep understanding that some things in the universe defy explanation. “You’re gods, ain’t ya?” he asked. “Nope,” Hikari said brightly. “Absolutely not,” Kuro added. “Then what are ya?” Hikari opened her mouth, but Kuro interrupted. “We’re just passing through.” “But you swim in the sky!” “So do birds.” The fisherman blinked. “You got a name?” Hikari, delighted by the conversation, swirled in a loop. “I’m Hikari! That’s Kuro. He’s grumpy.” “Because we shouldn’t be here,” Kuro muttered. “Ah,” the fisherman mused. “Kinda like my ex-wife.” Hikari giggled. Kuro groaned. The First Koi Cult (Oops) The next morning, the fisherman told everyone. At first, no one believed him. But then, others began seeing strange, shimmering fish in the sky—only at night, only near water. Rumors spread. Temples were built. Prayers were whispered. By the time Hikari and Kuro realized what was happening, people had begun offering tributes. “They left us sushi,” Hikari said, blinking at the small shrine. Kuro gave her a flat look. “They’re offering us dead fish. That’s like humans worshipping a cow and leaving it hamburgers.” “I mean… it’s the thought that counts?” The Great Koi Escape The problem with becoming an accidental religion was that people expected miracles. Crops to flourish. Storms to stop. Taxes to lower. The usual. Hikari was enjoying it. Kuro? Not so much. “We need to leave.” “Oh, come on! Look at them! They’re so excited!” “That one’s trying to summon us with a fishbowl and a candle.” Hikari hesitated. “Okay, yeah, maybe it’s getting a little out of hand.” “Ya think?” With one final swirl, they ascended, vanishing into the cosmic currents they had come from. And just like that, they were gone. The Legacy of the Sky Koi The humans, of course, were devastated. Their celestial fish had left them! For years, they searched the heavens, hoping to catch a glimpse of glowing fins in the night sky. But the Koi never returned. Well. Not physically. Their legend lived on. Stories were told. Paintings were made. A little symbol—a simple, swirling depiction of two koi circling each other—became a sign of balance, of duality, of the universe itself. And if, on particularly clear nights, someone near the water thought they saw two great celestial fish swimming among the stars... Well. That was probably just their imagination. Probably. Bring the Cosmos Home The legend of the celestial koi lives on—not just in the stars, but in art that captures their ethereal beauty. Now, you can bring a piece of this cosmic balance into your own space. Tapestry – Let the swirling dance of the cosmic koi transform your space into a portal to the stars. Canvas Print – A stunning centerpiece for dreamers, stargazers, and lovers of celestial art. Tote Bag – Carry the energy of the universe with you wherever you go. Sticker – A small but powerful symbol of balance and harmony, perfect for laptops, notebooks, or anywhere you need a cosmic touch. Whether you seek inspiration, balance, or just a stunning piece of art, "Interstellar Harmony" is a timeless reminder that even in chaos, beauty emerges. Explore the collection and bring the cosmos into your world.
