By the time they returned, the sun had already begun its slow descent.
The light had changed.
No longer bright and sharp—now it was softer, warmer, stretching across the ground in long golden lines that reached the edges of the mansion.
Renji pushed the door open.
This time—
No creak.
No resistance.
Just a smooth, quiet motion.
"…Still can't believe this is ours," he muttered as he stepped inside.
Mizuki followed.
"It is."
"…Yeah…"
His voice was quieter now.
Less complaining.
More… uncertain.
The house was silent again.
Clean.
Spacious.
Waiting.
Renji walked into the main hall and looked around.
"…It still feels empty."
"It will not remain so."
"…I know."
A pause.
"…It just feels weird."
Mizuki didn't reply immediately.
She simply stood there, watching him.
Not the house.
Him.
A distant sound broke the silence.
Clatter… wheels… voices…
Renji turned his head.
"…That must be them."
"Yes."
Moments later—
Voices approached from outside.
"Careful with that!"
"Watch the corner!"
"Lift it—lift it!"
Renji stepped out.
A small group of workers stood near the entrance, unloading furniture from carts.
Beds.
Tables.
Shelves.
Everything they had just bought.
"…That was fast," Renji said.
One of the workers nodded.
"We were told to deliver immediately."
Renji glanced back at Mizuki.
"…Of course we were."
The workers carried everything inside.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the halls as furniture was placed carefully in the main area.
The space began to change.
Slowly.
Piece by piece.
From empty—
To something… usable.
"Where do you want this?" one worker asked, holding part of a bed frame.
Renji answered.
"Upstairs. The largest room."
They carried the beds upstairs.
Renji followed behind, watching as the large wooden frames were assembled piece by piece.
The room changed instantly.
What had been an empty space—
Now had purpose.
The second bed was brought in.
The worker paused.
"Same room?"
Renji opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then shrugged.
"…Yeah. Same room."
The worker nodded and continued.
Mizuki looked at him.
"For whom?"
Renji glanced at the second bed.
Then away.
"…I don't know."
"That is not a logical answer."
"It's a future answer."
"…That is vague."
"Exactly."
They moved back downstairs.
The dining table was placed near the kitchen area.
The shelf was set against the wall, its wooden surface catching the warm light from the windows.
One by one—
Everything settled.
After the workers left, silence returned again.
But now—
It was different.
Not empty.
Not cold.
Just… quiet.
Renji stood in the middle of the room.
Looking around.
"…We actually did it."
"Yes."
"…We bought a house."
"Yes."
"…And furnished it."
"Yes."
He let out a small breath.
"…That's crazy."
"It is normal."
"It's not normal for me."
Mizuki moved toward the shelf, adjusting its position slightly.
Precise.
Careful.
Renji watched her for a moment.
Then—
"…Mizuki."
"Yes?"
"…Thanks."
She paused.
Only for a second.
Then continued adjusting the shelf.
"For what?"
"For… everything."
A small silence followed.
"…You did not need to do this," he added.
"I did."
"…Why?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Her hand rested lightly on the wood.
"…Because you need a place to stay."
"That's not what I meant."
"…It is enough."
Renji didn't push further.
"…Yeah."
Time passed quietly.
They arranged what little they had.
Adjusted positions.
Cleaned small spots.
Opened windows.
Let air flow through the house.
Outside—
The sky had shifted.
Orange.
Then deeper.
Shadows stretched longer across the yard.
Renji stepped outside for a moment.
The front yard was still rough—fresh soil, scattered patches of green—but it no longer felt abandoned.
He crouched down.
Touched the soil lightly.
"…We should plant something."
Mizuki stood behind him.
"We will."
"…Something simple."
"Yes."
"…Something alive."
She didn't reply.
But she understood.
They planted a few basic seeds.
Nothing special.
Nothing magical.
Just… seeds.
Pressed into the soil by hand.
Covered gently.
By the time they finished—
The sun was already low.
The light softened into gold.
Then amber.
Then something quieter.
They stood there for a moment.
Side by side.
Looking at the house.
"…It looks different now," Renji said.
"Yes."
"…Better."
"Yes."
A pause.
"…Feels like…"
He stopped.
"…Like what?"
Renji looked at the windows.
The soft glow from inside.
The stillness.
The calm.
"…Like we can stay here."
Mizuki's gaze softened slightly.
"…We will."
A breeze passed through the trees.
Leaves rustled gently.
The air carried the faint scent of earth and wood.
Somewhere in the distance, birds returned to their nests.
The noise of the town had faded into a distant hum.
For the first time—
There was no urgency.
No danger.
No pressure.
Just… stillness.
Renji turned.
"…Let's go inside."
"Yes."
They stepped back into the house.
The door closed behind them.
Softly.
The light from the windows stretched across the floor, reflecting off the polished wood.
The furniture stood in place.
Simple.
But enough.
Renji walked upstairs.
Entered the room.
Looked at the two beds.
"…Still feels weird."
"It will pass."
"…Yeah."
He sat down.
The bed creaked softly.
Then settled.
"…Today was long."
"Yes."
"…But not bad."
"No."
A pause.
"…Not bad at all."
Mizuki stood near the window.
Looking outside.
Quiet.
Still.
Renji lay back slowly.
Staring at the ceiling.
"…Tomorrow…"
"Yes?"
"…We train."
"Yes."
"…For real this time."
"Yes."
A small smile formed on his face.
"…Good."
Outside—
The last light of the sun disappeared.
Night took its place.
And for the first time since everything began—
Renji didn't feel lost.