"Woaah… Tall man…"
A little girl murmured in awe, craning her neck to look up at Shiharu. She had a round, cherubic face framed by long violet hair with neat bangs, and deep violet eyes that sparkled like polished amethysts. Everything about her was soft and fluffy—like a living cotton ball wrapped in innocence.
Shiharu gazed down at her quietly. She was nothing like the younger sister he barely remembered having.
"Shiharu, this is my little sister, Yuki," Reika said, her smile wide and warm. "And this is Grandmother—the one I told you about."
Shiharu bowed respectfully in greeting.
The elderly woman regarded him with gentle eyes, then reached up and rested a frail but steady hand on his head.
"You have a good future ahead of you, son. I'm glad you're finally awake."
A good future?
The words struck him strangely. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. Years ago, the shaman his family consulted had declared him cursed—born under misfortune, doomed to bring ruin. This woman's calm certainty felt almost impossible. Yet she looked remarkably healthy for someone who appeared to be in her eighties—vital, clear-eyed, skin smooth in a way that defied time. Rei had mentioned the legendary "flower of the village" once extended this woman's lifespan. Perhaps there was truth in the old stories after all.
"Heyy… cawwy me."
Yuki tugged insistently at the hem of his shirt, arms stretched upward in silent demand, lips pursed in an adorable pout.
Shiharu glanced at Grandmother, who offered only a faint, approving smile before turning toward her room. Reika followed after her, already asking about dinner plans, leaving him alone with the tiny girl.
"Pweasee… cawwy me…" Yuki's voice dropped to a small, sad whisper as she looked down at her feet.
Shiharu sighed softly and bent to lift her.
The instant she was in his arms, she burst into delighted giggles, wrapping her arms around his neck. He couldn't fathom what was so thrilling about being carried—surely her towering father did this all the time?—but she felt impossibly light, almost weightless. Fragile. He was suddenly terrified he might drop her by accident. He had never held a child before.
He stepped outside into the late-afternoon light, cradling her carefully.
"How old are you?"
"Hmm? Fifty… no… five. Yes, five!"
She held up one small hand, counting carefully on her fingers.
"Fifty? Seriously?"
"I swaid it's five! Don't teease me, hmph! Bad bad brother!"
She crossed her tiny arms and turned her face away in exaggerated fury.
Shiharu tried—failed—to hold back the laugh that bubbled up.
"Pfft—"
Then it escaped fully.
"Haha… hahahaha!"
He laughed harder than he had in years—perhaps ever. Maybe it was the way her pout resembled a sulky baby bird denied its nest, or how her attempt at anger only made her look unbearably cute. Either way, the sound poured out of him, free and unguarded.
"Don't thwink yawfing will make me forgwive you!"
Her lisped protest only made him smile wider.
"What an innocent child," he thought. Even her speech was impossibly endearing.
"I'm sorry."
"Youwa not!"
"I'm deeply sorry."
She studied his face for a long moment, violet eyes searching his as though trying to decide whether the apology was sincere.
"I wouldo forgwive you… if onwly you agwee to be my bwother."
Shiharu chuckled again and tried to set her down now that they were outside, but she clung tighter, wrapping her short legs around his waist like a koala afraid of falling.
"You bad bwother! Don't put me down!"
And then, from somewhere nearby, he heard a familiar voice—laughing brightly.
A familiar voice. Yes—it was his. Hoshiyuki's.
Shiharu turned toward the sound of that bright, hearty laugh.
There he was.
Hoshiyuki leaned casually against a garden wall, though his form seemed to pass faintly through the stone. His beauty had only deepened with time—radiant, almost luminous—but now pale white ghostly lights shimmered faintly around him, like distant stars caught in mist. He floated a few inches above the ground, barefoot, clad only in a long, flowing whitelike robe, yet somehow more ethereal, otherworldly in its grace. His arms were folded, gaze drifting absently through the empty air. He hadn't yet noticed that Shiharu could see him.
Shiharu's heart lurched. He stayed silent, watching, waiting to understand what this meant.
Everything felt wrong.
What happened to you?
Please… let it not be what I'm thinking.
Please, let it not be so…
As Hoshiyuki appeared, the red string on Shiharu's little finger had quietly unraveled into nothing. The one on Hoshiyuki's hand had vanished in the same instant. Neither of them noticed.
"I won't put you down," Shiharu murmured, patting Yuki's soft violet hair with a gentle smile as she snuggled closer, content.
"And yes—if Daddy allows it—I'll definitely be your brother."
"I mwust mwake swure he does!"
Yuki clenched her tiny fists with fierce determination.
"You don't nid to be scawled. I will pwotect you, hehh!"
She puffed out her chest proudly, thumping her right fist against it before planting both hands dramatically on her narrow hips—like a miniature champion who had just conquered the world in a wrestling match.
"Who protects who?" Hoshiyuki laughed again, the sound clear and unguarded, brighter than Shiharu had ever heard it.
Shiharu's gaze lingered on him longer than he meant to.
He had never seen Hoshiyuki laugh like that—so freely, so completely at ease. A true ray of sunshine wrapped in impossible beauty. Relaxed. Peaceful.
I hope I'm worrying for nothing, Shiharu thought, even as a quiet dread coiled tighter in his chest.