Tatsuya looked around, his eyes darting over the horizon like a prisoner eyeing the edge of his cage. The forest behind them had faded into a wall of shadows, and before them stretched the gently rolling hills, bathed in the soft golden wash of afternoon light. The rhythmic clop of Stefan's hooves was the only sound that dared disturb the silence between them. That, and the occasional brush of wind that teased the ends of her hair.
It had been over an hour.
An hour since they'd left the forest behind.
An hour of silence.
Not the awkward kind that begged to be filled with words, but the weighty, complex kind. Like a conversation that neither of them had the courage to start.
Tatsuya licked his lips, his gaze flickering to the side—to the girl seated behind him on the saddle.
He could feel her presence like the pressure of an unsheathed blade. Calm, but undeniable. Her quiet humming was light, almost melodic, but it only made his thoughts spiral harder.
I can't remember a time I have been alone with a girl for this long that wasn't my sister.
What am I supposed to say?
His gaze lifted instinctively toward the sky, as if hoping the clouds might offer him a line.
"The weather is nice, huh!" he blurted out, the words tumbling from his mouth like loose stones.
Ruza's humming ceased. She looked up, her eyes drifting skyward with the sort of ease that made his heart stumble.
"I assume it's going to rain soon. I hope it doesn't ruin the Valerian Festival."
The Valerian festival? Is she referring to new years?
"The Valerian festival?" Tatsuya asked. "That is when you celebrate the new year, Right?"
"Yes that's right. The Valerian Festival lasts for three days. Each day is a step forward," she said. "A passage. A letting go, and a beginning."
"The first day, we call it Tebanasu. It's meant to honor the ties that carry us through the years—family, friends, lovers… even people you've parted from. Everyone goes home, no matter how far they've wandered."
"Each household lights a hearthfire lantern," she said. "They're small, enchanted flames. The fire flickers in time with the heart of the one who lit it. People tie a charm to it—just a slip of paper with a single word. A wish, or a feeling, something they want to carry forward."
She paused, her breath curling into the cold. "Hope. Forgiveness. Courage. Or… trust."
"At night, the lanterns are released. Some drift on the river, some are carried by wind. They say if the flame survives until dawn, then the bond you tied it to will survive the year, no matter what happens."
"The second day is quieter. We call it Yurushi. It's… Everyone wears a mask. You don't speak your name. For one day, you don't exist as who you are—you exist as who you might be. Who you've been. Or who you're afraid of becoming."
Tatsuya frowned, but she kept going.
"There are places—enchanted ones. Gardens that whisper memories. Halls where voices echo your thoughts before you can even speak them. People walk alone, or silently beside strangers. They carry with them a piece of veil-paper."
"Veil-paper?"
Ruza nodded. "You write something on it. Something you regret. Something you wish you'd said. Or something you need to let go of. It doesn't have to be long. Sometimes, just a name is enough."
"At night, the papers are burned in fire. It's said the smoke carries the weight of your words away from your heart."
"And then," she added, "at midnight… magic is released into the sky. Symbolizing the burdens and regrets blowing up into the sky never to be seen again."
Her eyes reflected a flicker of that memory. "It's beautiful. But sometimes, it hurts to watch."
"And the third day?" Tatsuya asked.
Ruza smiled faintly—soft, wistful. "Arata, The day of the new year."
"It begins in silence. Everyone gathers before sunrise—on rooftops, cliffs, temple steps. They wait together, even strangers, for the sun to rise."
She looked upward as if she could see that sun now, just behind the clouds.
"When it crests the horizon, they say it washes everything clean. That the moment it appears, fate resets. Possibility returns. You can become anything again."
The wind stilled for just a breath.
"After that… it's celebration. Music, feasts, dancing in the streets. People declare things they've held in for too long—love, ambition, guilt, oaths they mean to keep this time. It's a loud, chaotic, wonderful kind of honesty."
The girl turned to him then, her gaze clear. "But the most important part is the silence just before dawn. That's the moment that decides whether you're really ready to move forward."
Smack!
A swift chop landed on his head with sudden, unceremonious force.
"Ow—! What was that for?!" he said, rubbing his scalp in surprise.
Ruza crossed her arms with a slight pout. "You still haven't answered my question."
"…Question?"
Her brows twitched in disbelief.
Shit. I forgot.
"I'm Ruza," she said simply. "So, who are you?"
Tatsuya sucked in a breath.
"My name is Tatsuya Fukushū… it's nice to meet you."
Her smile came like dawn—unexpected, but warm.
"Nice to meet you, Tatsuya."
He hesitated, but something gnawed at him. He had to ask.
"…Back there. Why did you follow me?"
Ruza's smile didn't fade, but it twisted slightly at the corners, shaded by thought.
"I figured you'd ask that," she said with a small breath.
Ruza was also not really sure why she had helped him out of the blue like that. Her father had always told her to stay out of danger.
"Well I guess it's because you so casually walked into the forest like you had no idea what danger is lurking in there, So I just thought.
One your are some kind of strong swordsman who knows nothing can touch you or you had actually no idea where or what you are doing.
So I had to check it out."
So she is a curious one?
"But the real reason is…" she paused, her eyes locking onto his. "I saw through your fake smile."
His breath caught.
"I don't know your pain," she said. "Or what you're carrying. But it doesn't mean you have to carry it alone."
Tatsuya looked down at the reins in his hands. They were trembling. telling someone isn't going to help either.
"You really saved me," he muttered, voice small. "So… thanks."
"You don't need to say it so many times," she said lightly, but her tone held warmth. "but were even if you answer one question."
She looked at him curiously. "So… where did you come from?"
Tatsuya hesitated.
Tatsuya wished he could just say that he came from an other world and lived in Japan but what good will that do?
Would she believe me? No. She wouldn't.
Tatsuya knew it was better for him to just tell his story from when he got summoned into this world. That would be more believable.
"I was born in Montisora," he said. "Before I met you, I traveled to the Kingdom of Deity. But… a red-haired man forced me out."
"Because of your Scent of the Devil, right?" she asked, her voice suddenly quiet.
Tatsuya eyes widened and fear crawled up his spine.
"How…?"
"I can smell it, everyone can smell it. That scent—it clings. It marks you as part of the Demon Cult."
"I'm not!" he shouted, more desperate than loud.
"I know," she said simply. Her voice was gentle.
His eyes watered up.
The tremble in his hands spread to his shoulders. To his breath. His whole body shook.
Ruza moved closer, gently rubbing his back.
"I know you're not one of them."
Her voice was soft. Not the kind of softness that slips away with the wind, but the kind that holds you in place—steady, unwavering, impossible to ignore.
She paused, eyes on him—not searching, but seeing.
"Just look at yourself," she continued, barely louder than a whisper. "You're trembling."
Tatsuya's breath caught in his throat.
She wasn't wrong.
His hands, clenched tight around the reins, wouldn't stop shaking. His shoulders hunched forward as if shielding something too fragile to show. He wasn't in battle. No sword had been drawn. And yet, it felt like he was fighting just to stay upright.
"If you really were one of them," Ruza said, "if you truly belonged to that cult… you wouldn't be shaking like this."
Her tone didn't carry suspicion. There was no edge, no cold calculation. It was warmth. Not naive warmth—she wasn't looking at him with blind faith. She was speaking from something deeper.
"You'd have drawn your sword by now," she added quietly. "You would have tried to silence me. Or run. Or lied. But instead… you're here. Breaking. That's not something they do."
The air around them was cold, yet her presence felt like a quiet fire burning beside him—steady, giving off just enough light for him to see through the dark fog in his heart.
"I know what the cult has done," she said, her gaze falling briefly to the ground, shadowed by a flicker of her own memories. "I know what they are. Everyone does. And because of that, everyone fears them. Hates them."
She looked back up, her eyes like clear water reflecting a scarred sky.
"The man who drove you out of the city… I'd bet he was one of the Imperial Knights."
That name hit him like a stone tossed into still water—Imperial Knights. The enforcers. The judgment-bringers. Unyielding. Unquestioning.
A pause.
And then, softly—so soft he almost missed it:
"I'm sorry."
The apology lingered in the air, tender and unfamiliar.
"I'm sorry that this happened to you. That you had to carry that scent alone. That people only saw the mark, and not the person beneath it."
Her hand moved—hesitant at first—before resting gently on his shoulder. Not forceful. Not possessive. Just there. A quiet reminder that he wasn't as alone as he felt.
"I don't know what you've been through. I won't pretend to understand all of it. But I do know this—your road ahead won't be an easy one."
There it was. The truth, laid bare. Not dressed up with false hope or sweet promises.
But then, with a breath, she added:
"…And even so, if you'll allow it, I'll gladly walk it with you."
Tatsuya's heart twisted. Her words didn't promise a miracle. They didn't fix anything. But they lit something inside him—faint, flickering, like the lanterns she'd described not long ago.
Help.
Such a simple word.
So beautiful when spoken, like a warm hand reaching out through the dark. A promise. A light.
But to Tatsuya, it no longer meant anything.
Once—maybe a long time ago—he might have clung to it. Believed in it. Waited for the outstretched hands to follow through. But now, the word floated past him like smoke from a fire long gone cold.
Receiving help, huh…? He stared blankly ahead, watching the trail unfold beneath Stefan's hooves.
He'd lost count of how many times he'd heard those words.
"We're going to help you."
"We'll talk to the teacher."
"We won't let them hurt you again."
Lies, all of them. Empty declarations. Just words people said to feel better about themselves.
They meant it in the moment—he believed that much. But when the moment passed, when the world went quiet and his back was against the wall again… no one ever came.
Not one person.
They'd vanished like morning mist.
And so, little by little, Tatsuya had learned to stop expecting anything. The flames of hope were dangerous. They lured you in with warmth only to leave you cold again once they died.
Inside, he was screaming—always. The kind of scream no one heard. The kind that echoed in the hollow of his chest like wind through an abandoned house. But on the outside, he was something else entirely.
Empty.
Not broken. Not angry.
Just hollow, like someone who'd packed away all his pieces and forgotten how to put them back together.
So when she said those words—soft, kind, sincere—it didn't matter.
They couldn't reach him.
He didn't doubt her intentions. Ruza's eyes weren't the eyes of a liar. Her voice didn't waver. Her warmth was real.
But even real warmth couldn't thaw ice that had spent so long pretending it was stone.
So he just nodded slowly, more out of habit than hope. The corners of his mouth moved, pulling a reply from him that felt like someone else's voice.
"…Yes. Please do."
The words slipped out like a breath he'd forgotten he was holding.
Part 2
A weathered wooden sign creaked gently in the wind as they passed it, the name "Shiloh" carved into its surface with clumsy but earnest hands. The letters were uneven, chipped by time, but they stood proudly—as if declaring, "This is home."
"There it is—the village of Shiloh!" Ruza called out cheerfully, her finger extended toward the quaint collection of homes just down the hill.
Tatsuya lifted his gaze.
It wasn't anything extraordinary.
It wasn't adorned with towering spires or floating crystals like the capital city he had read about in books. No, it was simple. Modest, even. Thatched roofs rested atop wooden houses. A cobblestone path split through the center of town, ending at a circular well surrounded by weathered benches. Smoke rose from a few chimneys, and the faint scent of firewood and freshly baked bread lingered in the air.
A marketplace with scattered stalls stood off to the right, the colorful fabrics of the merchants' tents fluttering like flags in the breeze.
Yet despite its simplicity—or perhaps because of it—Tatsuya felt a strange warmth in his chest.
"It's… pretty cool," he murmured. "We don't really have villages like this in Japan, right?"
His words were soft, more to himself than to Ruza. She turned toward him, flashing him a smile that was bright and full of pride, as if the village's charm reflected her own.
But then—
Tatsuya's breath caught.
Something—someone—moved between the houses on the left.
A narrow alley, barely wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side, hid four boys in its shadow.
Three of them were taller, older—arms crossed, faces curled into sneers. Their postures were sharp, aggressive. They stood like jackals before prey. And pressed against the wall, almost blending into it, was a fourth boy. Smaller. His clothes were dirty, face stained with fear and shame.
A fist was clenched in the boy's collar. Another hand reached for his satchel. The others laughed.
Tatsuya stopped walking.
His legs had locked up. His hands trembled before he realized it. Cold sweat trickled down his spine.
He had seen this before.
Not just once. Not as a distant memory, but as a wound—still sore, still aching. Back on Earth, in a school hallway that reeked of bleach and cheap perfume. His books scattered on the floor. Laughter in the background. A foot on his back.
His body remembered the feeling. The fear. The helplessness. The crushing silence when teachers looked away.
His nails dug into his palms.
He hated it.
He hated this feeling.
But more than that—
He hated them.
"…Ruza," he said, his voice low.
"Hm?" she turned, only now noticing he'd stopped.
"Stay here."
His feet moved before she could respond.
There was no hesitation in his steps now. No fear. Only heat—rising like fire through his chest, licking at his throat.
The tallest of the bullies turned as Tatsuya approached.
"Huh? What's this?" the boy sneered, sizing Tatsuya up. "This ain't your business, outsider."
Tatsuya didn't answer. He didn't even blink.
The boy scoffed. "Tch. You got a problem or something? Walk away before—"
Crack.
Tatsuya's hand shot forward, grabbing the front of the bully's shirt and slamming him against the wall.
The other two flinched.
The little boy on the ground gasped.
But Tatsuya's eyes… they weren't looking at any of them. Not really.
He wasn't seeing this alley. He wasn't seeing these faces.
He was seeing his past. His bullies. His powerlessness.
"Do you think it's funny?" he said, his voice trembling with rage. "Do you like making others feel small?"
The boy tried to shove him off, but Tatsuya didn't budge.
"You think you're strong just because there are more of you?" he hissed. "You think ganging up on someone weaker makes you powerful?"
His grip tightened.
"You're just cowards."
The words hit like bricks.
The other two bullies hesitated, exchanging nervous glances.
Then Tatsuya looked at them. Just one glare.
And in his eyes—they saw something terrifying.
Not strength.
But the raw, unstable fury of someone who had been broken, stitched himself back together, and now burned with nothing but resolve.
"Go," he said.
They didn't wait.
All three scrambled, stumbling over themselves as they fled the alleyway, the sound of their retreating footsteps echoing off the stone walls.
The little boy slid down to the ground, staring at Tatsuya in wide-eyed disbelief.
Tatsuya slowly let go of the wall, his hand dropping to his side as the fire within him dulled.
"Are you okay?" he asked gently.
The boy nodded, tears welling up.
Ruza peeked into the alley, blinking in surprise. "You really scared them off…"
Tatsuya exhaled shakily, finally turning back to her.
"I hate people like that." He said, his eyes not looking at Ruza with hatred but with sadness and fear.
"The scent of the Devil!!"
The shrill scream pierced the air like a dagger. Tatsuya's breath hitched.
"You're… a cultist!"
"Go away!!"
"Help!!"
The boy's voice cracked with panic, his entire body trembling like a leaf in the wind. His eyes—wide and overflowing with terror—were locked onto Tatsuya as though he were a monster that had clawed its way out of a nightmare and taken form before him.
The same boy who had just moments ago been rescued now shrank back in horror.
"Wait—" Tatsuya took a step forward instinctively, only to freeze as the boy recoiled, curling in on himself like a frightened animal.
A sickening knot twisted in his gut.
Ruza didn't hesitate.
Without a word, she dropped to her knees, lowering herself to the boy's eye level. Her movements were gentle, almost maternal—like a leaf falling softly onto still water.
She placed a finger lightly on the boy's lips. "Shh. Shh, shh… Hey, it's okay," she whispered in a voice so soothing, it felt like sunlight cutting through a storm cloud. "Look at me."
But the boy's gaze remained glued to Tatsuya, wide with disbelief and dread. He wasn't seeing a boy who had helped him—he was seeing a curse, a mark, something from whispered tales passed between villagers after nightfall.
Ruza moved again, this time sliding her body between the boy and Tatsuya until the latter was completely out of sight. Only her soft voice remained.
"Look at me… Look at me." Her tone had firmed, just slightly, just enough to draw his attention back. "I'm here too, you know."
The boy's breaths were sharp, shallow—but slowly, reluctantly, he turned his face toward her.
Ruza smiled. Her crimson eyes, like rubies in a silver mirror, shimmered with warmth.
"I don't have the scent of the Devil, right?"
His lips quivered.
"I… I hate them," she muttered, voice laced with venom and sorrow. "I hate every single one of those cult members. If I see one—I'll kill them. You know that, right?"
Her smile didn't fade. Instead, it softened—like fresh snow blanketing broken ground.
"But that boy behind me?" Ruza said gently. "I haven't killed him yet."
The boy blinked.
"So that means," she continued, "he isn't one of them."
"But his scent…"
"There are times when we don't understand why things happen—or how. And maybe we're not meant to. Not yet." Her hand gently brushed his shoulder. "But he saved you, didn't he? If he hadn't stepped in, those bullies would've kept going."
The boy looked down at the ground, dirt and dust shifting beneath his shoes.
Ruza leaned closer, voice soft as silk. "Tell me something—if he really was from that cult… do you think he would have helped you?"
The boy paused.
The question hung in the air like fog.
"…No," he said at last, a small voice in a quiet storm. "They wouldn't."
"Exactly."
Slowly, the boy stood. His legs were unsteady, but the trembling had dulled. He stepped around Ruza—cautiously, but with purpose—and approached Tatsuya.
He stopped just short of him, staring up with wide, searching eyes.
"…Thank you for helping me," the boy said, bowing slightly. "Sir."
Tatsuya blinked, caught off guard. But a moment later, his lips curved upward.
It wasn't a proud smile. It wasn't even confident.
It was simply… kind.
"I'm happy to help," he said. "And I promise—those bullies won't come near you again. If they do, I'll send those minis packing to the next town faster than a horse with a fire under its tail."
He puffed out his chest and flexed his arms like a bodybuilder, though his sleeves barely helped sell the image.
The boy giggled softly—just enough to break the last of the tension.
"What's your name?" Tatsuya asked.
"…My name is Tom."
"Tom, huh? That's a cool name. Alright, Tom—let's get you home."
"Y-Yeah."
The boy led them through the cobbled paths of the village until they came upon a house set just slightly apart from the others. It wasn't large, nor decorated with the lavish flair of the capital. But there was something about it.
Its roof was made of overlapping wooden shingles, worn down by time and seasons. Along the beams, delicate carvings of dragons intertwined with wheat stalks told tales older than most who lived in the village.
A low fence wrapped around the house, enclosing a garden that bloomed with herbs and flowers—lavender, sage, lilies in soft yellow and white. Some for medicine. Some for warding. Some simply because the chief's wife had said they made her feel at peace.
This was the chief's home.
A house of respect. A house where voices lowered not by rule, but by reverence.
"There you are!!" a voice cried out from the side path.
A young woman in a black-and-white maid's uniform sprinted toward them, her skirt fluttering behind her like wings on a breeze. She looked to be in her mid-twenties. Auburn hair flowed over her shoulders, held back with a white ribbon that danced with each step. Her crimson eyes shimmered—not with authority, but with gentle relief.
The moment she reached them, she dropped into a perfect curtsy, the lace of her apron fluttering like snowflakes on the wind.
"Tom, I was so worried!" she said, rushing to the boy's side.
Tom nodded, glancing back at Tatsuya and Ruza. "Some kids tried to bully me… but they rescued me."
The maid bowed deeply. "I'm truly sorry for the trouble he caused. Thank you, both of you, for helping him. I don't know how I can repay such kindness."
She paused, then offered with a gentle smile, "Would you like a meal?"
"Oh—we're good," Tatsuya replied, raising a hand sheepishly. "Actually, we were just hoping to get our masks. As you can see, we don't have any yet."
"Ah! Of course," the maid said, nodding quickly. "I'll get two right away."
She vanished into the house, and moments later returned with two elegant masks—hand-carved, painted with care.
One was a slender white fox, its expression mysterious and noble.
The other, a cat with soft curves and a playful grin.
"I'll take the cat," Ruza said, taking it with a delighted glimmer in her eyes.
Tatsuya accepted the fox mask and studied it for a moment. "This is… really well-made."
"You're not wearing one?" he asked the maid.
She laughed lightly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Still finishing my chores. And with Tom disappearing, I haven't had a moment to prepare."
"Right. Makes sense."
"Happy Yurushi," the maid said, bowing once more.
"Happy Yurushi!" Ruza and Tatsuya replied in perfect unison.
The sun was beginning to lower now, casting long shadows over the quiet village.
Part 3
—Chapter 7: Beneath a Borrowed Sky—
The wind was still. The night air cool against their skin. A hush had fallen over the world like a velvet curtain drawn tight across the heavens. Somewhere far off in the village below, laughter and music stirred, barely audible, like the soft ringing of distant chimes. But up here—atop this quiet hill that looked out over the village of Shiloh—it felt as though they stood in a pocket of time untouched by the world.
They had searched for nearly twenty minutes. Steep ridges, uneven paths, and patches of tall, golden grass that brushed against their knees. But when they finally reached the crest of the hill, they found it.
A view that stretched perfectly over the entire village, with the old stone well clearly visible in the center plaza—the exact place where, as the maid had said, "they shoot their magic from."
The open sky loomed above them like an endless canvas, deep navy and speckled with stars that pulsed like distant hearts.
"When the bell rings," Ruza had said earlier, "it'll be midnight. That's when the fireworks start. When the magic flies, and the year begins anew."
Tatsuya stood quietly beside her, his breath misting in the air.
I'm really going to watch fireworks with a girl tonight?
The thought hovered in his mind, almost disbelieving. But it wasn't the kind of nervous disbelief he might have expected. There was no anxious fluttering in his chest, no awkward tension in his limbs.
Instead… he felt calm.
Comfortable.
As if her presence had been a part of his life for far longer than the handful of hours they'd known each other.
Why does it feel like we've always been together? he wondered.
His thoughts drifted again, untethered.
The Sumida River Fireworks Festival… we used to go every year.
He could still see it clearly—the brilliant lights reflected in the water, the soft chatter of the crowds, his little sister tugging on his sleeve, begging for candied apples. His father's stern face softened by the joy of the night. His mother's gentle laughter carried by the wind.
His chest ached.
How are they doing now?
Are they even still looking for me?
Are they okay?
"Tatsuya—lay down."
Her voice cut through his thoughts gently, like a ribbon fluttering in the breeze.
He blinked, startled, and turned toward her.
Ruza had already sprawled out on the dry grass, hands behind her head, eyes gazing up at the vast sky.
He hesitated only for a moment before joining her.
The grass crinkled beneath his back. Above them, stars stretched endlessly, more vivid than anything he had seen in Tokyo. There were no neon signs, no city haze to hide them. Just the cosmos, laid bare and waiting.
"We were lucky it didn't rain," she said.
"Yeah," he replied. "That's right."
A pause.
The kind of pause that wasn't awkward—but delicate. Soft.
Then Ruza raised her arm and pointed upward.
"There," she said. "That one—the cluster near the brightest star. That's Nareth's Crown. It's a symbol of protection, they say. Mothers hang charms shaped like it near their newborns' cradles."
Tatsuya followed her finger, eyes tracing the gentle arc of stars forming a tilted half-circle.
"It kind of looks like a smile," he murmured.
"Mm-hmm." Her voice was light. "A smile that watches over you."
She shifted her arm, pointing further west.
"And that one—the crooked line that bends like a lightning bolt. That's Orvis's Path. A warrior who defied the heavens to protect the one he loved."
"That's… dramatic," Tatsuya said, smiling faintly.
Ruza chuckled. "It is. But sometimes the stars need a little drama. Otherwise, we forget to look at them."
He turned his head to glance at her.
Her white hair shimmered faintly under the starlight, and her crimson eyes were half-lidded, relaxed. A soft expression rested on her face, one that made his chest tighten unexpectedly.
She looked peaceful.
Like she belonged under this sky.
A low, deep gong echoed across the valley.
The bell.
They both sat up, eyes drawn to the village below.
Then—light.
A flash erupted beside the well.
Brilliant, burning arcs of color spiraled into the air—first red, then blue, then gold. The magic burst high above the rooftops and scattered into radiant petals. One after another, the sky was filled with blooming magic: spinning discs, thundering blossoms, cascading waves of starlight that seemed to slow time itself.
Each spell was unique. Not just bright, but beautiful—crafted with the touch of a thousand mages over generations, every single firework an expression of tradition, pride, and celebration.
Tatsuya couldn't look away.
But eventually… he glanced sideways.
Ruza's face was bathed in the glow of the fireworks, her eyes reflecting the golden sparks in the sky.
"Hey," he said, his voice nearly lost in the thunder of the show. "Thank you."
She blinked. "For what?"
"For… today. For this." His words were soft, but sincere. "It means more than I can say."
Ruza tilted her head, her smile gentle.
"You're welcome."
The next firework exploded directly overhead, showering down with a thunderous crack and a hundred ribbons of light.
And for that brief moment, everything else disappeared.
The cold, the past, the ache in his chest.
There was only the stars, the sky, and the girl beside him.
And under that borrowed sky, on a foreign hill far from home—
Tatsuya smiled.
And the new year began.