Haru heard Arika's soft footsteps coming back down the hallway. He took a slow breath and composed himself; he didn't want to alarm her. By the time the girl entered the kitchen, he was already calm, as if nothing had happened.
Breakfast passed in silence. All that could be heard was the faint tapping of the wind against the windows and the occasional clatter of cutlery.
Haru watched her out of the corner of his eye every so often. The girl's hand moved normally, showing no signs of discomfort. Even so, a persistent unease gnawed at his chest.
He had to be sure.
—Arika… —he said finally, in as casual a tone as possible—. Yesterday… when you got that cut… did it hurt afterward?
The girl looked up at him, thoughtfully.
—It felt like I'd been pricked with something —she replied calmly—. But after that, I didn't feel anything.
Haru set his glass down on the table carefully.
Too fast.
Arika tilted her head slightly.
—Why? That's normal, right?
It took him barely a second to answer, though in his mind the silence stretched on longer than he would have liked.
—Yeah… —he said finally, forcing a small smile —. It was just a small cut. Once it starts to heal, it stops hurting.
Arika looked at him for a moment longer, as if weighing his answer, and then nodded simply.
Silence settled between them again as they finished eating.
Haru looked down at the table.
He knew he couldn't take her to see Rane.
When they were done, he spoke casually, as if it were nothing important.
—We won't be going to see Rane today. He's gone on a trip; he'll be back in a few days.
Arika nodded without asking any questions.
—I'll take care of everything. Go play or find something to do… but don't stray far from the house.
—Okay.
The girl stood up and left the kitchen with soft steps.
Haru remained seated for a few more seconds, staring at the spot where she had been.
Then he slowly clenched his hand on the table.
Something was definitely wrong.
He stood up and began washing the dishes with slow movements. From the kitchen, he could see her in the living room: Arika was sitting on the floor, quietly drawing alongside Rain, Kwan, and Iris. The dogs rested near her, alert, like silent guardians.
Everything seemed normal.
Too ordinary.
Haru dried his hands and went up to his room.
As he closed the door, the weight of it all came crashing down on him. His body felt heavy, as if exhaustion had suddenly decided to catch up with him. His mind, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of doubts.
He took a few unsteady steps until he leaned against the desk.
Then, from some forgotten corner of his memory, an idea emerged.
A memory.
His grandfather.
When he was a child, he and the others would sit around the old man to listen to his stories. They were always tales full of strange creatures, hidden places, and mysteries that seemed to belong to another world.
When he finished, someone would inevitably ask:
—Is that true?
His grandfather would pause, looking at them with a calm smile.
And he would reply:
—Whether it's true or not depends on each of you. Sometimes we try to find logic in everything we don't understand… but there are parts of this world that simply don't have any.
Haru closed his eyes for a moment.
Then he began to put the pieces together.
Maybe Arika was one of those cases where logic fell short.
Maybe she really had fallen off the cliff.
Maybe she survived thanks to the snow… and during the time she spent there, her wounds healed, just as had happened now. The blow could explain the memory loss.
So the flowers… just like her… perhaps.
Haru rested both hands on the desk.
But… what should she do now?
And then she remembered another phrase her grandfather had said. One he repeated with a seriousness quite different from that of his stories.
"The world is full of unknown and fascinating beings, whom humans are unwilling to acknowledge because of their greed to control everything. And if one day you encounter one… protect it from that."
Haru slowly straightened up.
If Arika was special… like that purple flower… then no one should know.
No one.
Taking her to the city would mean condemning her to studies, needles, laboratories… to becoming something to observe, measure, and dissect.
No.
He wasn't going to let that happen.
He would protect her.
No matter where she came from.
Just as her grandfather had once said.
Haru stood motionless in the room for a few more seconds.
The decision had already been made.
She slowly exhaled the breath she'd been holding and stepped away from the desk. Outside, the house remained silent, enveloped in the cold calm of the morning.
She opened the door and went downstairs.
From the last step, he could see her.
Arika was sitting on the living room floor, drawing quietly. Rain was resting beside her with his head between his paws. Kwan was sleeping near the window, while Iris remained alert, watching the girl's every move.
Morning light streamed through the window and illuminated the wooden floor.
Arika moved the pencil with precision, without haste. Her face was calm, focused, as if the world around her didn't exist.
Haru stopped silently.
The scene was so simple… so ordinary… that it was hard to reconcile it with the questions filling his mind.
Who was she really?
Where had she come from?
Arika looked up when she sensed his presence.
She didn't smile.
She just watched him for a few seconds.
—Mr. Haru.
He snapped out of his thoughts.
—Yes?
The girl held up the paper and offered it to him.
—Look.
Haru stepped closer.
The drawing showed the house, the dogs… and two figures in front of it. One small and one taller.
The lines were simple, but firm.
—It's pretty — Haru said softly.
Arika lowered the paper and continued drawing, as if nothing else needed to be said.
Haru stood there for a few moments.
Watching her.
This time not with doubt, but with a silent certainty.
No matter who Arika was… or where she had come from…
She was now in his care.
And as long as he was there, no one was going to hurt her.
The days passed, wrapped in a carefully constructed routine. Every morning, Haru changed the bandage covering a nonexistent wound, pretending to be recovering slowly.
Until one day, he removed the gauze and smiled.
—Your wound has healed completely. We won't need any more bandages.
Arika looked at him.
—But you need to be more careful —she added gently—. Your body is weak. Healing takes a long time.
—I'll be careful —she replied.
That simple promise eased something in Haru's chest.