[Remaining lifespan: 23 hours, 12 minutes, 09 seconds]
Woooooo—
The blizzard roared like a wild beast, snow twisting and lashing back at the darkness.
Hoshino stepped on the slumbering snow, staring blankly at the raging storm just ten meters ahead.
"Should we… turn back?"
"Charge!" From his back, Kobeni pointed straight into the howling white.
"Kobeni-san, you've really changed."
The Horse Devil sighed. "Get down first."
He took off the gray knit cap from his head and pulled it over hers.
"That women bought it for Tanaka, but never got the chance to give it to him. It's new."
"Mm."
Seeing her put it on without hesitation, Hoshino rolled his eyes.
"That's all? No reaction? Shouldn't you be more like—"
He stepped back a pace, raised his voice, and waved his hands wildly like windshield wipers.
"Eh?! What?! A hat you've worn before?! So romantic! I-I don't want it!"
Kobeni nodded politely. "Mm."
"…Forget it." Hoshino turned, crouched down, and said, "Get on."
"Mm!"
As they closed in on the blizzard, the crack-crack-crack of snow hitting their jackets grew sharper—his skin tingled just from hearing it.
Then, two small hands wrapped around his neck from behind—along with a soft touch of white.
Warmth brushed against his skin, carrying a faint scent he couldn't place.
He tilted his head slightly. "You're not wearing one?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the white scarf around Kobeni's neck. Understanding, he chuckled.
"So it's safety if nothing happens, but a noose if things go wrong? You planning to die with me?"
"Mm."
"You're the 'Mm' Devil or something."
"Mm."
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
Snow pellets beat against his jacket in a tight, steady rhythm.
Visibility dropped to almost zero. If they weren't only five kilometers from the Onsen District, Hoshino would've turned back already.
"Five meters of snow wasn't enough? Why the hell add a blizzard on top?"
This storm was clearly Devil-made.
Yesterday, on the road from the shrine to the onsen area, he'd noticed the snow depth changing. The Onsen District had three times the snow of the mountain slopes—over five and a half meters at its peak.
He'd guessed the Blizzard Devil couldn't make enough snow itself. Since Okura Village hadn't gotten its usual snowfall, it must've scraped the mountain to build the thirty-meter snowman for the festival.
But now… there seemed to be more to it.
Ten minutes later—
Boom.
"Huh?" Hoshino rubbed his ear.
Boom, boom, boom.
"Someone?"
The sounds of fighting were faint under the wind—so faint he thought he imagined them.
A Devil Hunter fighting a Devil? Official or civilian? Himeno?
The storm was too strong. He couldn't tell the direction, let alone the details.
Tiny tendrils of flesh crept from the back of his neck, curling into his ears, reshaping his outer ear to catch sound better.
Suddenly, the noise was clear.
He turned left, squinting into the white void.
Nothing. Just a blinding haze. Snowflakes scraped across his eyes, stinging enough to make him shut them.
He trudged forward about ten meters.
Then something snagged his pant leg.
He tugged gently. It didn't budge.
Looking down—
A pale face.
Familiar.
"Masao Yamada?!" Hoshino froze.
"H-help… my wife…"
"Your wife?"
Half-buried in snow, Masao Yamada was wearing only a black sweater. In his arms, he cradled a pregnant woman.
Her delicate face was covered in snow, her sharp eyes hidden beneath her closed lids. A camel-colored coat wrapped her body, with a black fleece jacket draped on top.
"Kobeni, get down."
"Okay."
The snow only reached Kobeni's thighs—looked like a main road, probably cleared once by snowplows.
Four massive arms sprouted from Hoshino's sides.
Three lifted Misaki gently; one wrapped around Masao. Pulling them close to cushion the movement, he turned and sprinted toward the village administrative center.
Ten kilometers. With a pregnant woman, about forty-five minutes if he pushed it.
"Mi…saki… wake up… we're… saved."
Masao's voice trembled as he shielded his wife from the violent wind.
"Mi…saki…"
"Mi…saki…"
"Mi…saki…"
He called her name again and again, each time more desperate.
"Mi…saki…"
"Mi…saki…"
"Mi…saki…"
"...Hus…band…"
Finally, as if answering his heart, Misaki Suzuki's lashes fluttered open.
Hooo—
A cloud of white mist escaped Masao's mouth.
"Ha… ha… ha…"
Tears slid silently down his angular cheeks, disappearing into his hair.
"...You're laughing? Ha… you idiot…" Misaki half-laughed, half-cried, brushing the tears from his face. "We're… really lucky, huh…"
"Yeah… survived the worst… that's gotta mean good things ahead… the baby'll be fine…"
"Mm… he'll be… like Ichirou… do great things…"
"Go… study in Tokyo…"
"…He will. His dad's… smart…"
"I just… study hard… nowhere near as smart as you, Misaki…"
"…I just want him safe…"
"Mm… I want you both… safe too…"
…
They moved fast.
The storm and death itself were left far behind.
Moonlight took its place, shining on soft snow.
"Hey, if… it's hard to walk, you can stick to… the streetlights." Masao's voice had steadied as his body warmed.
"Got it." Hoshino didn't mind.
The road beneath the lights was smoother, not slick at all—probably new material from recent repairs.
"This road was rebuilt and widened ten years ago," Masao explained. "My eighth year back in the village, seventh with the Neighborhood Association. We only handled coordination and complaints for the project."
"Mm."
Hoshino didn't know why he was saying all this, but he didn't interrupt.
Ahead, each pool of light was bright, and there wasn't a patch of darkness between them.
"The only school in Okura Village is at the administrative center. Elementary through high school combined—just over a hundred students. Twenty years ago, there were only thirteen."
Masao spoke softly, as if to Hoshino—or maybe to himself.
"Back then, this was one of only two roads from the Onsen District to the center. Too narrow, too steep. Cars couldn't pass. Hardly anyone used it.
Just Misaki and me. Twice a day—once to school, once home.
Okura Village gets dark early. For most of the year, we'd walk home by the lights.
There were few lamps back then—always long stretches of pitch-black in between.
But darkness had its charm.
Without the glare, you could see the terraced fields—rows and rows, perfectly lined, stretching as far as the eye could see.
Still, before we were grown, we never looked at them at night.
I was scared of the dark. Misaki was scared of ghosts."
He smiled faintly.
"So we'd rest under the light, then close our eyes and sprint through the dark, yelling the whole way. Once it got bright again, we'd open them.
Then I got into high school in Tokyo, and Misaki stopped going. No one else used this road.
After college, I couldn't let go of this place… so I came back."
Hoshino opened his mouth, unsure what to say.
"…Masao really loves this village, huh…"
Misaki's quiet voice broke the silence.
Hoshino realized then—Masao hadn't really been talking to him.
He'd been talking to her. Keeping her awake. Keeping her present.
Pretending to chat with Hoshino just so she could join in when she wanted.
What am I, a prop?
Hoshino pressed his lips together and let it go.
Masao kept talking about their past, Misaki replying softly from time to time.
No sudden dangers. No pursuers. No melodramatic twists.
Everything felt right. Someone speaking, someone listening, someone laughing now and then.
Before long, they reached the hospital.