The bed wasn't very big to begin with. Now, with three of them crammed together, the only miracle was that Haruto hadn't been shoved onto the floor in his sleep.
He stared at his two sisters still fast asleep, then quietly got up from the bed and walked out of the room in his pajamas.
The moment he left his room, a chill swept over him. Unlike the heated air of his bedroom, the corridor was biting cold. Hugging his arms, he rubbed them briskly for warmth as he made his way to the bathroom.
When he returned, he instinctively wanted to dive back under the warm blanket. But in the short time he'd been gone, Mitsuha and Yotsuha had completely claimed the bed. There was no space left for him.
With no choice, Haruto slipped into his winter clothes and headed for the living room. Sitting down, he brewed himself a cup of tea and stared blankly at the steam curling upward.
Back home, he found himself strangely restless. In Tokyo, his days had been packed, always moving, always busy... never a chance to stop and think. But here, sitting in stillness, all the thoughts he had been avoiding pressed in. Beneath it all, he realized with a dull ache, his heart felt empty.
The house was quiet, the night sky outside still dark. Not yet sunrise. The chill crept through the walls, so he sipped his tea, letting its warmth spread through him as he closed his eyes.
Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Mitsuha suddenly sat bolt upright, her face shadowed with a painful expression. Biting her lip, she flung the blanket aside, slipped into her slippers, and hurried out without a glance at the still-sleeping Yotsuha.
The bathroom light flicked on, then off again. Ten minutes later, Mitsuha stepped out, rubbing her icy hands together. As she turned back toward the bedroom, she noticed the glow from the living room. She remembered seeing it earlier too.
Carefully, she crept closer... only to see Haruto sitting alone on the sofa, his back to her.
"..."
That lonely silhouette pierced her chest with an ache she couldn't name. She sniffled softly and bit her lip.
Haruto, lost in thought, still caught the sound of her footsteps. He turned slightly and saw her standing in the doorway, shivering in her thin pajamas.
"Aren't you cold?"
"A little."
"It's still early. Why don't you go back to sleep?"
"Why aren't you sleeping?"
Even if he wanted to, he didn't exactly have a bed left for him.
Haruto parted his lips, then thought better of explaining. Instead, he shifted the topic. "Careful, or you'll catch a cold."
"..."
Mitsuha hugged her arms tighter, goosebumps rising on her skin.
"I'll go back then," she muttered.
"Mm."
She gave him one last glance before retreating to his room. Seeing Yotsuha curled up in his bed, she instantly understood why Haruto had been up so early. She sighed quietly and slipped back under the blanket, pressing close to Yotsuha for warmth. Her body grew comfortable, but her mind refused to rest.
Her thoughts kept circling back to Haruto. Ever since he'd moved to Tokyo, he felt different... distant in ways she couldn't put into words.
Did something happen?
She recalled the phone call he'd had with Setsuna earlier that night, her curiosity and unease knotting together. The more she thought about it, the more restless she became, as if invisible claws were scratching at her chest.
Frustrated, she sat up again. Throwing on her clothes, she quietly left the room, leaving Yotsuha asleep behind her.
"You're up again? Couldn't sleep?"
"Couldn't."
Mitsuha sat down beside Haruto. Even this close, she felt a huge gap between them... an invisible distance she couldn't cross.
"Are you having trouble sleeping?" he asked.
"You're the one sitting here in the middle of the night. Aren't you the same?"
"..."
He wanted to say it wasn't that. He wasn't awake because he couldn't sleep... just because there hadn't been space left for him in his own bed.
"How's your health?" she asked suddenly.
"Hm?"
"What do you mean, 'hm'? You've recovered, haven't you?"
"Didn't I tell you? I'm fine now. Almost fully recovered."
"Liar."
Before he could protest, Mitsuha stood, grabbed his shoulders, and shoved him back against the sofa. Leaning in close, she brushed back his short hair to reveal the discreet hearing aid tucked into his left ear.
Her lips trembled. Her eyes grew wet. She clutched his shirt with both hands, biting her lip to keep from breaking.
"W-Why… why didn't you tell me—" Her voice cracked into muffled sobs as she buried her face against his shoulder.
Haruto's chest tightened sharply, like a knife had cut into his heart. Wordlessly, he raised his arms, gently pulling her into his embrace the way he used to when they were children. His hand stroked her slender back in soothing circles.
"There, there. It's not that serious. I just can't hear as well out of one ear. The other one works fine, see?"
But Mitsuha's quiet sobs only reminded him of how often she had cried when they were little. No matter how many years passed, she was still his sister.
The sound of soft footsteps came from the hall. Their grandmother, Hitoha, appeared, already dressed in her simple morning kimono. Elderly sleep was light, and she had always been an early riser.
"You're awake already?" she asked with some surprise.
"Grandma, you're up this early too?" Mitsuha sniffled, hastily wiping at her eyes.
"It's about time for dawn, isn't it? In summer, I'd already be up long before this. Winter makes it easy to stay cozy under the futon, but you can't linger forever. When it's time to rise, you rise."
"But there's nothing urgent to do. It's the end of the year... everyone's on break already," Mitsuha mumbled.
"For those of us older folk, every minute is precious. There's no time to waste on sleep," her grandmother said with quiet firmness.
Mitsuha didn't quite understand. Why choose to rise in this freezing cold when there was nothing pressing to do? She looked at her grandmother pouring tea, then back at her brother.
Her eyes were still a little red. Haruto reached out and gently brushed a fingertip along her cheek, wiping away the last trace of tears.
It seemed that young Mitsuha still didn't quite understand what her grandmother meant, but Haruto did.
Watching as Hitoha poured herself some tea before quietly leaving the living room, Haruto didn't feel as heavy-hearted as he might have. He knew very well that, at least up until this point in time he had returned to, his grandmother had always been around and healthy. In his mind, she should still be fine for another ten, maybe even twenty years...
And so he simply let Mitsuha stay sprawled across him. Unlike the stifling heat of summer, when being even slightly close to someone felt suffocating, the winter chill made her warmth all the more comforting. He didn't have the heart to push her away.
It wasn't until Futaba woke up and wandered into the living room that someone else noticed them siblings leaning together, perfectly at ease.
"You two sure are close," Futaba remarked casually.
At first Mitsuha showed no reaction, but the moment the words sank in, her face flushed. She stole a quick glance at Haruto, then suddenly gritted her teeth, huffed, and rolled off him with a pout, plopping down at his side instead.
"..."
The sudden absence of her body left Haruto feeling oddly chilled, as if his pillow had been stolen away. He glanced at Mitsuha sulking beside him, then at Futaba, but said nothing.
By 6:17, the sky outside had finally brightened, the faint light of dawn spilling across the town.
Futaba began preparing breakfast. Normally, Mitsuha would keep quiet at this time of day, but to everyone's surprise, she walked over to her mother's side and started helping with the cooking.
Not only Haruto, but even Futaba herself seemed taken aback by this change in her daughter.
"What's gotten into you today?" Futaba asked.
"Nothing. I just… felt like trying."
"..."
Catching her son's startled expression from the sofa, Futaba smiled faintly and began teaching Mitsuha step by step. Haruto, meanwhile, sat lost in idle thoughts, letting the minutes slip away.
Soon, Yotsuha was roused from her bed. Though energetic in summer, winter seemed to drain her spirit, and she sat slumped on the bed, reluctant to leave its warmth.
"Breakfast is ready. Time to get up," Haruto called.
"It's cold outside, isn't it? Maybe we should put a heater in the living room too… wouldn't that help?"
"It's not a bad idea," Haruto replied. "Once I earn a bit more from my writing, I'll buy one for the house."
"Mm."
Encouraged by his promise, Yotsuha got dressed. She soon realized she didn't have any socks in this room, dashed barefoot to the doorway, shivered violently at the cold, then bit her lip and sprinted back to fetch them.
After also calling for their grandmother who was already awake and knotting cords in her room the family of five gathered in the cramped dining space, squeezing around the low table for breakfast.
As they ate, a hushed silence filled the room, broken only by the faint murmur of the news on TV. Yet in this quiet town, national reports rarely carried weight. There were no special resources worth developing, no famous landmarks to draw crowds. The roads were barely adequate, and factories would never thrive here. It was a closed-off place, almost untouched by the outside world.
No matter how great the upheaval beyond, life here remained the same. The townsfolk, content with their self-sufficient lives, cared only about the weather forecast. Unless a meteor were to fall from the sky and obliterate everything, nothing in this town would ever truly change.
"I'm done," Haruto said at last, setting his chopsticks down.
"Then… I'm done too."
Mitsuha followed suit almost immediately, though Haruto raised an eyebrow.
"You're… finished?" he asked.
Peeking into her bowl, he realized she'd eaten only a single serving... far less than usual. For a moment, he even wondered if this was really his sister.
"W-what's with that look? It's rude!" she snapped.
"You're still growing. Skipping nutrients now could affect your future," Haruto replied calmly.
His gaze dropped briefly, and Mitsuha bristled.
"Where are you looking?!"
"At your legs."
"You—!"
"Mitsuha! Haruto!" Futaba's voice cut in sharply.
Mitsuha clammed up instantly, shooting her brother one last glare before gulping down her tea in one go. Haruto, unbothered, simply continued sipping his own.
Yotsuha had opened her mouth as if to speak, but glancing between her siblings, she lowered her head instead, her mood sinking.
Once breakfast was done, Yotsuha offered to help, but Haruto rose before she could.
"It's too cold for your hands. Let me."
"You're a writer, aren't you?" Futaba said with a gentle smile. "Your hands are more important than mine. Let me take care of this."
Still, Haruto insisted on helping gather the dishes.
"A little cold won't hurt."
~~~~~~~~~~
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