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Winter has arrived in Hyakkiyako.
Thin, pale sunlight slides across the roof tiles and frosted persimmon trees as the academy wakes to another day of preparation.
Narrow lanes of hay and cedar trees are rimed with white, and the streets take on the rigorous exchange of people set to work.
At the center of the Yamato-esque world, even the magnificent tree is having a hard time withstanding the cold.
A rather unusual sight, but given what it has endured - more specifically, the fire -, it's to be expected by many, depressing it may seem.
But Hyakkiyako, an academy of festivals, tourism, and more festivals, will not bend to such a setback.
And it shows.
There is an element of rehearsal for the unseen, from students, stand owners, shopkeepers, and more.
Workers are applying waterproof coating to the newly arrived wooden planks before construction.
Processions are mapped to avoid icy slate roads and frozen canals, volunteers are sweeping steps and defrosting the tiles.
Restaurant owners are offering free hot food for all of the above.
And the noises of a certain president of the Festival Management Committee coming out of Momoyo Hall.
Even the Mouryos are chill - freezing even - and instead of wreaking havoc, they're trying to start a barrel fire.
What can be taken down can always be rebuilt. And the academy, as well as everyone in it, can't wait to tell that to the rest of Kivotos.
And what can be a better way to do so than a grand, seasonal festival?
Sensei takes it all in with a deep breath, strolling down the street and glancing around like a tourist.
And he kind of dressed like one as well; a poncho covering his insulated layers, plus a backpack and a duffle bag with rain covers.
However, not a single person on the streets has stopped and stared for even a second.
As if a 6'4" tall cloaked figure walking down the street is simply a part of the view.
Now where can it be? He muses, scanning through the regionally distinctive buildings through his shades.
Pretty much all the resident houses look the same. That, or he's way too much of a foreigner to tell the difference.
Thankfully, navigating through Hyakkiyako is fairly easy thanks to the abundant signposts and distinguishable landmarks.
Dropping a majority of the annual spending into tourism tends to do that.
Pass the canal by a small bridge, then turn left at the intersection that has a tailor shop.
He follows the text message memorized before setting foot here precisely, keeping his expression natural and his steps confident.
Because while his presence is low, having one's head on a swivel and phone in one's hands is a telltale sign of I don't know where I'm going.
And scalpers love that, they can always, always tell like sharks smalling blood in the water.
Shades or no shades. He learned that the hard way.
Regardless, after turning several corners and checking more boxes on the landmark list, Sensei stands before a house.
A simple, one-story tall building with a small courtyard, surrounded by fences made with what looks like lacquered cedar planks.
Dark grey roof tiles, ivory walls, and wooden beams, grates, and sliding doors of the same wood as the fence.
It's a house of no discernible features, blending into the outskirts of Hyakkiyako like a leaf in the forest.
Everything seems fairly well-kept by the looks of it.
If anything, the house seems a bit... empty and sterile, compared to the rest of Hyakkiyako.
Sensei finally pulls out his phone and checks the location again: a house in this area, the farthest from Hyakkaryouran's club complex.
There's usually a plate with the house owner's last name on it, but that appears to be missing here.
Seems right. Sensei purses his lips and marches straight in.
Worst-case scenario, he walks into a stranger's home. Nothing a sorry can't handle. Hopefully.
He enters the front yard - locks the door after he enters, as requested - with zero hesitation; still, no signs of activity from inside the house.
On the sliding door he first encountered, a door knocker coated in a rough paint; the whole contraption looks like an afterthought, he muses.
Sensei grabs the ring part with three fingers. Knock-knock!
"......" Five seconds have passed. Nothing.
So he tries again. Knock-knock!
"adfgiopgjipotgh..."
A faint, unintelligible mumble and a string of light footsteps can be heard after another five seconds.
Eventually, the sliding door slowly moves out of the way as a blonde bedhead emerges from behind.
The owner of the house is in a set of dark grey indoor clothes, which are loose, thick, and absolutely scream homey.
Her eyelids are struggling to prop themselves up, showing only three-quarters of her eyes.
One is in amethyst purple, and another is in amber gold. Both are still groggily, though.
Even her pointy elven ears are droopy. How long have you been sleeping? He can't help but think.
"Mhm," She freezes the moment he's in her view, and it's not because of the cold.
Still, she breaks the spell and mutters a syllable replacing a greeting. "...Hey."
Nanakado Ayame, the venerable president of Hyakkaryouran, is clearly in off-duty mode today.
"Thought it was Nagusa," She rubs her eyes and roughly combs her blonde hair with her fingers.
"But then I remembered that I never told her where I live." She trails off.
"It's afternoon," Sensei snickers, waking up from her brief remembrance.
He starts taking off his layers at the narrow wooden walkway. "You've been like this the whole day?"
"Not the whole day," Ayame pouts in return. "...I'll be out there this evening."
"For dinner?"
"And patrol."
"Alone?"
"...Probably."
Sensei drops the poncho, the backpack, and the duffle bag outside since they're all coated in a thin layer of snow.
Then he does a scoot gesture and enters the uber warm interior of Ayame's home; too warm, even.
He didn't realize at the beginning, but the draft from the sheer temperature gap between indoor and outdoor could be felt in his face.
There's a heater running on full swing at the near corner. Heat waves are almost visibly coming out from there.
Windows are closed here, and the carbon dioxide in this room is sky high.
No wonder. Auburn pulls the quarter zipper of his waffle top all the way down.
Ayame is at least still sentient enough to bring him a sitting pad.
Actually, a lot of sitting pads. Five of them in a stack. Right next to a set of messy futons with a blanket that someone clearly just got out of.
"You asked any of the other girls out with you?"
Sensei takes his throne of pads, watching Ayame preparing to crawl back into her lair, only to realize that, well, he's here.
So she sits on her futon and hugs her knees instead. "They're still working today?"
"Actually, no." He suppresses the urge to take off his sock, given how absurdly warm his feet are now.
Ayame raises an eyebrow. "Even Renge?"
"Especially Renge," He chuckles. "She's practically hibernating now."
Sensei pictures the image: a red dragon-like tail with a massive knitted "sock" while its owner is curled up in the kotatsu.
Oh, and that face. That miserable face. Mentor... Too cold... Crank up the heat more, pwease...
"You could've asked them yourself." He glances at the phone by the pillow, connected to a charging cable.
"......" Ayame buries half of her face into her knees.
"Oh, c'mon," Sensei nudges her bare toes with his socked toes.
"We talked about this. I'm sure it'll be alright with Yukari and the crybaby on your side."
"You think they stand a chance against Kikyou in an argument?"
He pictures another image: a pair of black cat ears and tails with their puffy winter coat.
And the daggering gaze. "...Okay, Yukari, the crybaby, and me, how about that?"
"You wanna put Kikyou's trust in you on the line for me?"
"What can be broken can also be rebuilt." He shrugs with a smile. "Houses, rifles..."
Ayame's heterochromic eyes drift to the bolt-action rifle resting on a rack in the corner of the room.
A Hyakkaryouran standard rifle without any personal touches, no custom decals like Renge and Kikyou, nothing.
Nagusa has inherited the Hundred Lotus, and her other rifle, used in her... incidents was corrupted by Twilight.
Now that things have settled, she needed something.
So Sensei borrowed one from Hyakkaryouran's club complex, said it was for getting a grasp of how they roll.
Ayame replies by slumping down on her side and onto her pillow.
"I'm not sure if that'll work on me." She closes her eyes. "And I feel like if I try, it'd only get worse."
"You keep that up, Kikyou will never forgive you until the end of days."
"......"
"Is this what you want? Becoming a recluse and hopefully the rest of Hyakkaryouran won't ever find you?"
"......"
"Hey," Sensei pursues. "Do you know what Nagusa said to me when you snuck out the moment you woke up?"
He moves out of the padding stack to gain some distance toward the sulking blonde.
Going on his side as well and propping his upper body with his elbow, Sensei continues.
"She said," He's now closer, softer. "Maybe she needs some time for herself."
Ayame stiffens a little, hearing the name and the following sentence.
"You'd think she'd freak out and scramble to find you?"
"...I thought she'd fold and cry again."
"That's the thing," He says with an airy snicker. "She didn't."
"Nagusa has changed. You saw a tip of that iceberg back in that duel, no?"
"She's waiting for you." Sensei props himself back up. "And what will you do?"
"......"
Gears behind those eyes are turning, he can tell.
Ayame takes a deep breath before a frown joins her mixed expression. "...I think you need to get out."
"Really?"
"Really. I need to change."
"I can help."
"I mean the clothes."
"Ah."
With an exhale, the president of Hyakkaryouran gets back up on her feet, literally and metaphorically.
She stumbles a little; if there's a pace counter on her, it probably wouldn't even hit two digits today.
"My offer still stands." Sensei jokes, but he's scooting off the pads and towards the door on his ass.
"Ha-ha." Ayame isn't laughing. "You can keep this room warm while I'm out, big guy."
"I'm coming with you."
"It's patrol. I'm going out early. "
"Why do you think I brought that extra bag?" He points with his thumb at where the duffle bag would be through the sliding door.
She gives him a look with a long face, and it's not because of the long slumber. "You've been with Kikyou for too long."
"Funny." The adult finally reaches the door and is left with no choice but to stand back up. "She thinks the opposite."
Sensei slides the door open, and the incoming cold wind makes him shiver a little. Where're my layers?
Feeling the warmth slipping away by the seconds, he reaches for the jacket and the poncho.
"Hey," Ayame stops him before he disappears behind the door. "Can you tell 'em..."
Auburn turns around, kind eyes put their spotlight on her, inquisitively, almost expectingly. Tell them what?
"That..." Her gold and purple eyes droop a little as what's behind them struggles to string a sentence.
Eventually, the struggle ends, and her eyes link with his soft, silver ones again.
"...That I still need some time to collect myself, and I'll go to them when I'm ready?"
"Sure." Sensei nods knowingly. "You know where to look for help if you need any."
The door slides closed, and the people on both sides begin preparing for the evening.
Ayame throws on her uniform over an extra baselayer, puts on a scarf paired with a beanie to protect her elven ear from freezing.
Auburn, on the other hand, dons his jacket, then his chest rig and his poncho.
Lastly, a modified RK95 brought for the occasion. And stylish points.
"......" Sensei pulls out his phone before mounting it on his gear.
And instead of doing so, he turns on Momotalk and texts in the group chat of Hyakkaryouran.
feel cold
may go on a walk with your prez
BigBadAub02 sent an emoji.
Immediately right after that, he mutes the phone and shuts it off.
And the second before he clicks the power button, he sees exactly 4 read.
The faint rustling of fabric and a rifle coming behind the door seems to have stopped.
Sensei clips his mobile device onto the EUD mount on the chest rig and readies his rifle.
Nanakado Ayame walks out of her den in a proper winter mode. Gloves and high boots included.
Her blonde hair has been properly combed and tidied up into a braid, even though he didn't hear any of it.
The iconic Aquamarine Happi is missing and has been replaced with a cobalt blue one; similar, dimmer, and not the same.
"Ready." She says, a new vibrant glow courses in her eyes.
Last time she ventured into the snow, she was desperate and alone, with her shoulders crushed by the weight.
Invisible weight that would come haunting the moment she recollects every second of her past life.
Now? Honestly, it's more of the same, including a tagalong.
But what's changed?
"......" A shallow smile barely hangs in her expression, trying to breach through the ice.
Shallow, but real. I like this version of you, too. He muses with a smirk.
"Here," Auburn hands over his shades. "In case you don't want any extra attention."
"...?"
"Just put it on. You'll see."
He grins at his own silly pun as Ayame puts the shades on doubtfully.
They feel a size too large for her head, but the lenses are doing their job.
But Ayame's sample size of shades has been zero up until this point, so she can't tell if it's quality or not.
Whatever. At least it's good for the eyes. Snow blindness can be annoying after all.
"After you." He gestures after flipping off the safety and chambering a round.
Ayame says nothing, taking the lead into the thin layer of crunchy snow out of her home.
Sensei takes a deep breath, watching a white puff of smoke dissipate before his face.
It's the first of many things today, including patrolling with the venerable president of Hyakkaryouran.
And who knows what else?
Other than maybe a run-in with the rest of Hyakkaryouran's members in a few minutes.
Oh boy. Auburn cracks a smile, gripping his gun slightly tighter.
But his instincts say otherwise; the instinct that guides him even now.
Things are going to be okay.
Trailing the steps of his beloved student, Sensei enters the snow.