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Everything had been quiet in Black Shores over the last few days. There had been no signs of anything serious or completely unusual to cause concern.
The corridors still smelled of cold metal and old paper. The lights in the monitoring rooms flickered at the same frequency, as if time were a series of data points that sorted themselves out.
The agents on site walked with measured haste. Always busy. Always alert.
Everything was taken care of in case the world changed in an instant due to a moment of carelessness.
Rover had been looking out the high window of the main corridor for a while, where the glass reflected an imperfect shadow of his face.
There were tasks. There were reports, routes, inspections to complete. There was a list of things that, objectively, had to be taken care of before thinking about anything else.
He did favors that were more like requests from one of the members of the place who needed his help, and he, being a good person, did them for them, even though some were a little “curious.”
One of them was to help Encore, who needed someone to accompany her to play with her lifelong friends, and he was her first choice.
There was also Alto, who Rover was least inclined to help. He hadn't done much in his last missions, from what he had heard, and he would prefer him to do things that required him to lift a finger.
Fortunately, Shorekeeper did him a favor to make the tasks less burdensome for him, as she knew he needed a break.
He thanked her, and after helping Alto, he set him to do the rest of the tasks Rover had asked him to help with. Shorekeeper also agreed, and they dragged him along.
As a favor that she would later collect on, Camellya was one of those who accompanied him to make sure he did his job.
He knows full well that Alto won't have a very good time with a girl like Camellya around, but that would be his problem.
Putting that out of his mind, Rover still had certain concerns that took him to another place in his mind.
For the past few days, the same thing had been happening to him. It came like a wave, a wave of worry that flooded his head.
Soon after, he discovered the source of his worries, leading him to two things in particular:
Honami and Chisa.
He still remembered everything she had been through, and the last time they spoke, she had learned to smile again. This time she was much more cheerful and relaxed after the city of Honami had been freed from an endless loop.
Rover had promised to return, but he had been busy with many assignments from Black Shores that left him no time for that, but after Shorekeeper's help, he was now freer of duties.
He put on his usual vest. He checked his minimal equipment. He looked at the exit door.
The method of going to Honami was not a simple “trip.” It was a transition. A crossing of conditions and resonances.
When Rover decided to go to the city of Honami through the same portal, the feeling was the same as always: a gentle tug on his consciousness, as if the air had changed density. The sound of the place seemed to fold in on itself; then, suddenly, it opened up. And the world on the other side greeted him with white silence.
“Snow?”
Surprisingly to him, he never imagined a change of environment in Honami, and above all, that it would be snowing.
He didn't understand why it was snowing. Slow, clean flakes landed on the railings, the billboards, the edges of the streets. The light in Honami seemed different under that veil: softer, less bright in an artificial sense.
It was an incredible sight, but also unusual. Wasn't that supposed to be more or less in the mountains? He had never seen it in Jinzhou or Rinascita.
Rover took a step, then another, leaving footprints that stood out clearly on the ground. The temperature was low, yes, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of cold that made your breath visible, that made you put your hands in your pockets out of habit even if it wasn't strictly necessary.
All around, the city was alive.
People walking with paper bags. Couples under umbrellas. Children chasing snowflakes. Groups talking on street corners, planning things that sounded so ordinary that for a moment they seemed strange: dinners, exchanges, visits, lights.
Rover overheard snippets of conversation from some of the groups on the next street:
"...Have you bought the dessert for Christmas yet?
“If we don't get there early, the stores might run out of bread...”
“This year we'll put up Christmas lights, I promise, honey.”
“...If you give me something like you did last Christmas again... I swear I'll...”
“Let's go get the deals on...”
The words passed through Rover's ears like a friendly echo. He frowned slightly, not out of annoyance, but because of the feeling of reading a sentence in a language he was just beginning to understand.
What he didn't understand most was the word those people mentioned:
Christmas.
People said it as if it were something natural, as if the world had grown up with that idea.
He probably knew, but now he couldn't remember anything related to it. But even so, something inside him—not memory, but instinct—felt that it was something important.
He kept walking until he reached Honami Crossing. The route to that coffee shop was clear: even with the snow, the main roads were cleared by the comings and goings of people.
As he got closer, he began to see decorations: improvised garlands, paper stars hanging from poles, small lights wrapped around railings.
The same kind of lights that the city adorned itself with, as if convinced that it deserved a ritual.
When the café building appeared, Rover felt a relief that needed no explanation. It wasn't just because of the place. It was because of what it represented: a refuge that had once been improvised and now, with time, was a stable point where he could relax.
As he entered, the warmth enveloped him immediately. The aroma of roasted coffee, freshly baked bread, and something sweet—cinnamon, perhaps—erased the snow from his shoulders in his mind before he could shake it off his clothes.
At the counter, Namipon looked up and opened his eyes with such sincere emotion that, for a second, the capybara seemed bigger than he was.
“Rover!” he exclaimed, jumping up and down behind the counter as if he could break through it with sheer enthusiasm. “Rover came, Rover came!”
As soon as he was close enough, Rover couldn't help but smile at the sight of the little capybara welcoming him.
“Hi Namipon, it's good to see you.”
There were other little helpers moving around, carrying trays, cleaning tables, arranging cups. The place was busier than usual, and yet it had a warmth that didn't depend on the temperature.
Namipon waved a little paw.
“Would you like coffee? Hot chocolate? Tea with honey? We have...” He looked at a chalkboard where things were written in chalk. “...Vanilla latte, mocha, cinnamon coffee, gingerbread... Oh! There's also hot spiced milk. People are ordering a lot of that today.”
Rover blinked at the list. He found it curious how a newly liberated city could adopt customs so quickly, or perhaps it had just eagerly reclaimed them.
To be honest, he was dying to try everything on the menu as well as what Namipon had mentioned. It sounded delicious, but he decided to put those thoughts aside.
That wasn't why he came.
“I'm sorry, Namipon. Everything looks delicious, but I'm not here as a taster today,” Rover said, raising both hands in apology.
“Oh, I understand...”
He seemed a little disappointed by the resonator's refusal, but it didn't seem to affect him that much. He quickly recovered with a smile, showing his pleasure at Rover's presence.
A smile formed on his face, apologizing for the inconvenience. Rover didn't care about the apologies; he saw them as unnecessary when the little boy was only offering hospitality.
Seeing that the atmosphere was becoming somewhat uncomfortable, he decided to get straight to the point about his reasons for being there today:
“I came to see Chisa,” he said simply.
Little Namipon smiled. It was a peculiar smile, one that couldn't be hidden even if he tried to hide his satisfaction.
“Ohhh!” he chirped. “Namipon understands.” Rover came for Chisa. That's good, and I'm sure she'll be happy to see you.
There was a certain tone in the little boy's voice that Rover didn't understand, but he also noticed that he was hiding something. However, as was obvious, he detected no malice in his words.
That made him question why they were making such a big deal about the good news that he had come to see Chisa.
To clear up his doubts, Rover was about to ask about his attitude, but Namipon intervened before he could speak.
“Chisa is in the back,” he indicated with a nod. “She's helping with orders. There are a lot of customers today. But Chisa is fine. Very fine.”
Rover rested a hand on the edge of the counter, leaning forward slightly.
The little boy pointed out again, but this time it was about Chisa's condition, which intrigued Rover even more.
“How has she been?” he asked. The question carried a weight that went beyond mere curiosity.
Namipon lowered his voice solemnly, as if he were about to share an important secret.
“Therapists from Black Shores came several times. Chisa did exercises. Things that help with the effects of her Overclock. Chisa sometimes had difficulties, but she's not as bad as she was before. She's no longer lost in her head. And...” His eyes sparkled. “...Chisa laughs more.”
Rover felt a soft knot untangle in his chest. He didn't say anything, but his hand closed slightly, as if confirming to himself that this information mattered.
Knowing that Chisa had made progress in her recovery relieved him. After what had happened and the state she was in when he met her, it was good to know that she was better.
Namipon looked at him with an almost mischievous expression.
“Besides...” she whispered, “Chisa is happy when you come... Very happy. Namipon is very grateful that Rover cares about Chisa...” She made two gestures with her paws, bringing them together and then separating them. “I like seeing you two together like that.”
Rover tilted his head. He didn't quite understand that last part, but he assumed Namipon was happy that she and he had become close.
Had Chisa found it difficult to make more friends?
Those he knew in Black Shores had already mentioned being a little more communicative with Chisa, even striking up a good friendship.
“I guess since I'm her first friend, she trusts me more.”
That thought indicated how much she needed to open up emotionally to more people. However, something inside him also felt... happy?
Was he happy at the idea that she trusted him more than anyone else?
Rover cleared his throat uncomfortably. There were things he didn't know how to take for himself. One of them was his relationship with Chisa, not because he didn't understand how to relate to her, but because he liked being with her.
“I'm going to see her,” he said, and headed to the back of the place.
He walked calmly, looking at some tables where members of Black Shores and other Honami citizens who had already begun to notice the presence of this coffee shop were sitting.
As he went deeper into the shop, the atmosphere became noisier: the sound of cups, the clatter of plates, voices ordering and thanking. Chisa was there, standing next to a table, holding a tray with two steaming drinks. Her cheeks were slightly pink from the heat and the work.
Chisa was wearing her usual uniform, showing off her youthful feminine charm, although only in appearance. But she was already a little older and it still suited her perfectly.
What caught his attention most was her face:
Chisa was smiling.
Not a small smile. It was a real, open smile that lit up her eyes as if the world had finally allowed itself to be kind to her.
Rover stood still for a moment. He watched her without approaching her yet, and the idea became clear to him: Chisa looked as she should have looked from the beginning.
He was very happy for her.
Seconds later, Chisa had moved on to the next table. There were two boys there, receiving their orders from her. One said something to her in that measured tone that was meant to sound casual.
“Thanks, really,” he said. “We really like the customer service here.”
The other laughed, leaning on the table.
“Yeah, yeah. And the coffee tastes better when it's served by someone as pretty as you.”
Chisa blinked. Her smile became a little more polite, more distant. She bowed slightly.
“Thank you,” she replied softly, without encouraging the comment. “I'll be right back with your orders.”
She took a step back, ready to deliver the order for preparation.
In that same movement, she looked up. In the direction she was going, she encountered someone she didn't expect to see right now.
Her eyes caught Rover.
She was so surprised to see him that she found it hard to believe.
Chisa's brain tried to react, but her body didn't understand the message to stop her steps, and after bumping into him, she slipped.
The tray she was carrying in her hands had fallen.
Chisa let out a small sound, a gasp of surprise. Rover moved before the shock could turn into a fall.
He held her firmly: taking her by the lower waist, right at the curve of her back, the other on her shoulder. He pulled her toward him reflexively, to steady her. And in the process, their bodies were too close, the heat of the coffee and the human warmth mixing in a tiny space.
Chisa stood still.
Her eyes, wide open, searched Rover's face. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something and couldn't. And her skin turned red, starting at her cheeks and spreading to her ears.
“R... Rover,” she murmured. That was all she could say.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and careful.
Chisa nodded, unable to hold his gaze. Her breathing was a little faster, but not out of fear. Rover felt the slight tension in her body, the minimal tremor that sometimes remained as a residue of difficult days.
The time he held her in his hands, he felt something: how delicate the girl's presence was, her body so fragile and thin. He felt that the slightest sudden movement would be enough to break her unintentionally.
His eyes scanned her face in a prolonged second. The curve of her eyelashes, the blush, the way she barely bit the air as if she were holding back a thought. She was... pretty.
The word appeared with almost uncomfortable clarity.
Chisa looked up for a moment, and their eyes met. They were so close that Rover could make out tiny specks of light reflected in her iris. It seemed to him that, in that reflection, the whole of Honami could fit.
A voice brought them back to the world.
The two boys, standing to one side, looked at each other with defeated expressions, like people who understood that they had arrived late to a story that was already underway.
“Ah...” murmured one. “She already has a boyfriend, doesn't she?”
“Yes,” replied the other in a low voice, with a mixture of resignation and envy. “I guess it can't be helped.”
Chisa listened. Her face flushed even more. Her fingers rested on Rover's forearm as if she needed to hold on to something to keep from disappearing.
“I...” she began, but didn't know what to say. The word “boyfriend” hit her in the chest like a bell.
Rover, on the other hand, seemed unaffected. His gaze barely shifted toward the boys; there was no threat in his eyes, just a calmness that made it clear he didn't care about their opinions.
Chisa swallowed hard.
“C... Can you... let me go...?” she asked in a whisper, more out of embarrassment than actual discomfort.
Rover nodded, with a care that betrayed him: he released her slowly, as if afraid that the cold air of separation might hurt her.
When he stepped away, Chisa immediately straightened up, adjusting herself awkwardly, as if that would hide her racing heartbeat.
Shortly after, the boys had received their orders and left with their drinks, muttering things about “bad luck” and “better luck next time.” Chisa watched them leave, and only then did she look back at Rover.
“No... I didn't expect you to come today,” she confessed, still red-faced.
“I had time,” he replied, and then, more softly, “I wanted to see you.”
That intention in the young resonator was enough to make her feel butterflies in her stomach again. Chisa felt it like a caress. She looked down, smiling slightly.
Behind them, one of the little capybaras appeared, as if it had been waiting for the signal. Then another. And then Namipon, peeking over the counter with a satisfied expression.
“Chisa,” Namipon announced solemnly, “we can help with the rest. You can rest and catch up with Rover.”
Chisa opened her mouth.
“But there are customers—”
“Don't worry,” Namipon interrupted, lifting his chin confidently. “Chisa needs some air. Rover came to see you, so you shouldn't keep him waiting.”
The capybaras were already taking their places with surprising efficiency, as if they had been doing this all their lives. Chisa stood there for a second, not knowing whether to laugh or protest.
In the end, her laughter won out, and she sighed, placing both hands on her hips.
“All right...” she conceded.
Chisa was both happy and annoyed by the radical change in her duties, although it wasn't as if she hated this change.
Rover nodded.
“Let's go outside,” he suggested with a slight smile.
Chisa had no objection to the idea, nodding and then accompanying him.
They left the café and the cold air greeted them gently. The snow continued to fall, sticking to Rover's dark hair and Chisa's red scarf, which she had brought with her as part of her outfit for the day.
They walked a few meters without speaking, not because they had nothing to say, but because the silence between them was a space they could share... one that Chisa felt she needed today.
Rover was the first to break it.
“How have you been feeling?” he asked, with the same caution one would use when touching a wound that is already healing.
Chisa knew what he was referring to. She took a second to respond. She looked ahead, as if sorting through her emotions.
“I've been feeling... fine,” she said finally in a soft tone. “It was difficult at first... But now I'm a little better, though that doesn't mean I don't still have some complications.”
She clasped her hands inside her sleeves, seeking warmth.
Rover looked at her out of the corner of his eye, attentive.
“And now?”
Chisa smiled, this time effortlessly.
“Now... I'm happy. Sometimes I get tired, sometimes I get dizzy. But now it's just normal fatigue and not because I feel as trapped as I did before. And...” Her eyes sparkled like they had that night. “...I like seeing new faces here.” I like hearing people's stories, and not the same ones over and over again.
Rover let out a breath that could have been laughter.
“What about the sessions?” he asked. “Did they help you?”
Chisa nodded energetically.
“A lot. They taught me that I have to be strong all the time. That... I must keep trying. Everyone I've met at Black Shores has helped me.”
Rover didn't respond immediately. The word. He was absorbed in Chisa's delicate, soft words as he stared at her. As if he wanted to remember every detail of her expressions.
They walked a little way, toward a street where lights hung like low constellations. There were decorations in the windows: paper figures, stars, little dolls. The snow gave them a fairy-tale air.
Rover pointed to a decoration in the shape of an illuminated tree.
“I've seen many things like this,” he said. “And people talk about ‘Christmas’. What is it?”
Chisa blinked, surprised.
“You... you don't know?
Rover shook his head. There was no shame in his gesture, only sincerity.
”You know... I... I have amnesia, and a lot of the things I should know, I don't know now... I don't know if I ever knew about this ‘Christmas’ thing that everyone talks about.
Chisa bit her lip, thinking about how to explain it without sounding too difficult to understand.
“It's... a celebration,” she began hesitantly. "It's a day when many people get together with their loved ones. They give each other gifts... or sometimes they just spend time together. They eat something special.
They decorate their houses with lights because...
She watched the people in front of a store, looking at some items through the window.
"...it's supposed to be a way to make winter less sad. Like saying to the cold, ‘It doesn't matter, we're still here.’ It's... hard to explain the meaning of it all, but it boils down to being with the people you love.
Rover listened attentively. The idea was understandable, and he was beginning to enjoy this Christmas tradition more.
He looked once more at the people passing through the streets of the city, some of them so comfortable with each other as they moved from place to place.
Chisa spoke again.
—I, before... I wasn't sure I wanted to celebrate it.
When Honami was trapped by The Lament... I hardly knew if I would ever see Christmas again, and now that I'm here... honestly, it's a relief that warms my heart.
Rover looked up at the sky. The snowflakes fell into his field of vision like a slow language.
“What about you?” he asked suddenly. “Do you want to celebrate it?”
Chisa froze. The question seemed simple, but something bigger opened up in her chest: the possibility of a “yes” that included Rover.
“Yes,” she admitted honestly. “I'd like to. No. I want to.”
And then, as if gathering her courage, she looked him straight in the eye, placing a hand on his chest.
“But... I don't want to celebrate it alone.”
The words came out before she could take them back. Chisa felt her heart pounding in her throat. She hastily added, awkwardly:
“I mean... it's not like I'm alone. Namipon is with me, and now the Black Shores people too... but... you understand.”
Rover looked at her for a moment. There was no mockery, no discomfort. Just that calmness he sometimes had when making important decisions.
“I understand,” he said.
The answer was short, but it loosened Chisa's shoulders as if a weight had been lifted from her. She smiled, more relaxed.
“So...” she began, clasping her hands inside her sleeves, “do you want to walk with me? Around the city. See the lights. Do... Christmas things. Like... Like when we walked the other time and looked at the cherry trees.”
Rover nodded, and the way he did it—without hesitation—was almost a gift in itself. One for her.
“Yes. I don't have any problems with that. I'd like you to show me around, too.”
Chisa stared at him for a second, as if she couldn't believe Rover had actually accepted her invitation.
She knew in her heart that she might have a chance to be with him. Deep down, she really wanted to be by his side. Now. Tonight.
Then she laughed, and her laughter came out like steam in the cold.
They both began to walk along wider streets. There were makeshift stalls selling hot drinks and sweets. Chisa bought two sugar buns and one of those cups of thick chocolate that smelled of cinnamon. She handed one to Rover.
“This... is something very common at this time of year,” she said, as if she were sharing a relic.
Rover held it in both hands. The heat rose to his fingers.
“Wow, I wasn't expecting that,” he joked, playing along. As if he had never known of the existence of hot chocolate.
Chisa laughed as she watched him bring the cup to his mouth. He blew on it so as not to burn his mouth.
He took a sip. His eyebrows rose slightly.
“It's very delicious.”
“That's the idea,” Chisa replied proudly. “Something you always enjoy at this time of year is a good hot chocolate.”
They continued walking, trying things, looking at decorated shop windows. On a corner, a group was playing music with old instruments, and the melody was strangely nostalgic, as if the city remembered a kind of joy that needed no words.
Chisa stopped in front of a bunch of hanging lights.
“Look,” she pointed. “Don't you think it's all very pretty?”
“Yes... it's very pretty,” he replied with a smile.
Rover looked at her before he looked at the lights. The way Chisa spoke, the way her voice became excited about little things, seemed more captivating to him than any decoration. It was a simple miracle: someone who had been trapped in a repeating day was now surprised by such small things, or at least they were very small to him.
That thought tightened his chest. Not with sadness, but with an uncomfortable tenderness, as if he didn't know where to put it.
They walked to an area where the wind was blowing, feeling a little colder. Chisa pulled her scarf up, adjusting it.
She regretted not wearing something much warmer than just her usual uniform.
She glanced sideways at Rover, feeling foolish for not noticing a detail he had just pointed out.
“Are you cold?” Chisa asked, looking him up and down. Rover was wearing his usual clothes, much more suited to fighting than to keeping warm.
“No,” he said. “You don't have to worry about anything.”
I've been in worse places.Chisa frowned, as if that answer were an insult to people who had trouble with the cold... Although she wasn't one of those people.“That doesn't mean you have to act like it doesn't affect you,” she said in a whisper.Before Rover could say anything, Chisa stopped short and took off her red scarf.“Chisa...” he began, surprised.She stood on tiptoe and wrapped it around his neck with a determined gesture. Her face was close to his, close enough for Rover to feel her warm breath.Chisa didn't back away immediately. Her hands adjusted the scarf carefully, as if she were fixing something valuable.
“I don't want you to get sick,” she said seriously. “It's not fair for you to come all the way here and...” She paused, as if the idea of losing him, even to the flu, embarrassed her. “...just promise me you'll take care of yourself.”
She tapped him lightly on the forehead with her fingers, a gesture that seemed like both a scolding and a caress.
Rover stood still. He had had people who cared for him, yes, companions, allies. But this was different: it was personal, intimate, almost daily care.
“I'll do it,” he said at last, his voice sounding softer than he had expected. "It's not for you to scold me.
Chisa stared at him for a second, and then her embarrassment returned with a jolt. She took a step back, clasping her hands together as if she didn't know what to do with them.
“Y-You asked for it... I just don't want you to make me worry,” she looked him in the eyes. “Do you promise?”
“Yes. I promise.”
Chisa smiled. She saw his sincerity, and that lifted her spirits.
“That's it,” she murmured. “Then let's keep walking.”
Rover touched the scarf with his fingertips. It was warm. It smelled faintly of coffee and soap, and something he could only associate with Chisa.
It was clearly her scent, and having it wrapped around his neck was like she was hugging him.
That thought made him stiffen a little as his cheeks turned pink.
They walked again. The sky had grown darker, and Honami continued to bathe its buildings in its invigorating lights.
Across the street, Rover noticed a couple walking. They were talking quietly, sharing the same rhythm. At one point, the boy took the girl's hand naturally, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
Rover watched the gesture. Then he looked at Chisa.
She was talking about something—a new store, a recipe Namipon wanted to try—but she fell silent when she noticed his gaze.
Rover didn't think too much about it. There were things that weren't born of memory, but of observation and desire.
He moved a little closer and, with a slow but sure movement, took her hand.
Chisa fell silent suddenly, as if the words had fallen to the floor. Her hand in Rover's was smaller, warmer. Rover felt the slight initial tremor, the reflex of someone who is still surprised to be allowed to be close to another.
Had he been too abrupt?
He didn't like the idea that his action had upset Chisa, and that she might suddenly want to pull away out of discomfort.
Thinking about that possibility made his chest tighten, killing him inside.
“Does it bother you?” Rover asked, looking her in the face. More specifically, he looked her straight in the eyes.
Chisa shook her head quickly, so quickly that her hair almost got tangled in her face.
“No,” she murmured. “It doesn't bother me.”
Her fingers tightened their grip. Then, with a shyness that seemed like an invisible thread, she intertwined her fingers with his.
It was a small gesture. And yet, the world became different.
Rover felt a pleasant pressure in his chest, as if something was settling inside him. Chisa walked closer, not close, but close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
The snow continued to fall, and for a while, the sound of their footsteps was the only thing that existed.
“Senpai...” Chisa said after a few minutes, very quietly.
Rover was surprised for a moment by how Chisa addressed him. If he remembered correctly, she said that calling him that was like declaring that he was above her in academic status.
He never cared about that and was satisfied with the two of them treating each other as equals, but Honami customs forced her to use these kinds of labels.
In the end, Rover didn't care anymore and let Chisa call him whatever she liked.
“Yes?” he looked at her.
Chisa hesitated. Her eyes looked at the lights, at the street, anywhere but at him.
“Thank you for coming,” she finally said. “I know you have a lot going on. And that Honami is no longer your responsibility. But even so... you came.”
Rover squeezed her hand, barely.
“Honestly, my reason for coming to Honami wasn't because of responsibility, as you say,” he replied.
Chisa looked up, confused.
Rover didn't continue right away. He seemed to be searching for the words, as if he wanted to be precise.
“I came because... when I think of this place,” he said, “I think of you. And I wanted... to see with my own eyes that you're okay.”
Chisa felt her face flush again, but this time the blush came with something else: a soft, clean joy.
“I'm fine,” she whispered. “And... I'm better when you're around.”
She said the words without planning to. When she realized what she had confessed, she froze, waiting for the world to break or for Rover to laugh.
But Rover just looked at her.
And in that look there was no surprise, as if he too had known before she understood it.
They walked to a square where a large tree had been placed, decorated with lights and paper figures. It wasn't perfect; some decorations were crooked, others were clearly improvised. Even so, the tree had a strange beauty: not the beauty of something designed to impress, but that of something built with intention.
Chisa stopped in front of it, admiring it.
“See?” she said. “It's this kind of thing that people usually do for a time like this.”
Chisa looked at Rover for a moment and then turned her gaze back to the tree wistfully.
“I used to not care about things like this. I was indifferent to it all and thought it wasn't a big deal,” she said, her gaze still fixed on the tree. “Now... I can't help but appreciate every change in this place. I feel happy for the first time in a long time.”
Rover watched her for a second. Then he looked at the tree.
“It looks nice,” he admitted.
Chisa laughed.
“That's a big compliment coming from you,” she said, looking at him with sarcastic teasing.
“I don't know how to give compliments,” he said honestly.
“Then... learn,” Chisa replied with a mischievous smile she rarely allowed herself. It was a flash of confidence.
Rover looked at her, and something inside him leaned toward her, as if her presence were a new gravity.
“You're...” he began, then stopped.
Chisa looked at him expectantly, holding her breath.
Rover frowned slightly, uncomfortable with his own lack of emotional vocabulary.
“You're... brighter,” he finished, as if choosing a word that seemed right.
Chisa's eyes widened. The phrase hit her right in the center of her chest.
“Brighter?” she repeated, as if wanting to savor the word.
Rover nodded.
“Yes. Like... when the sky comes down,” he added, remembering what she had said earlier.
Chisa remained silent. Her eyes moistened a little, not with sadness, but with that emotion that appears when someone truly sees you.
“That was...” she murmured. “Thank you.”
Rover cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the thanks. He looked away.
“I didn't say it to make you cry.”
Chisa let out a stifled giggle and wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand.
“I'm not crying,” she lied, then sighed. “It's just... you're making me happy with your sincerity.”
Rover didn't respond, but his hand, intertwined with hers, squeezed a little tighter, as if that were his way of admitting something that was mutual between them, even though they didn't know it.
Shortly after, they both continued their walk. They visited a small bridge from which they could see part of Honami lit up. Snow fell on the dark water, and the lights reflected like liquid stars.
Chisa leaned on the railing, looking at the landscape with a calmness that would have been impossible months ago.
“Sometimes,” she said, “I think about what happened. How close I was to... losing myself. And then I look at this”—she pointed to the lights, the snow, the people walking— “and I feel... grateful.”
Rover leaned against her side.
“Does it hurt to remember?”
Chisa shook her head slowly.
"Not like before. Before, it was as if the memory were a hand squeezing my throat. Now... it's more like a scar. It's there, and sometimes it itches, but it doesn't kill me anymore.
She turned to him, and her voice softened.
"I think... part of why it doesn't kill me anymore... is because you were there. When I was trapped. When I was afraid. When I didn't know if I deserved to go on.
Rover looked at her, and for the first time that night, his expression softened completely.
“I didn't do that much,” he said.
Chisa smiled, and for once, her smile had a hint of firmness.
“You don't decide how much it was. I decide. And for me... it was everything.”
Rover was silent. The phrase fell on him like heavy snow. He didn't know how to respond, because he didn't want to minimize how she felt. Nor did he want to accept it as a medal, because he hadn't done it out of heroism.
He had done it because... he couldn't bear to see her suffer.
And that truth, when he thought about it, illuminated something: perhaps that was the origin of what was growing inside him.
Chisa took a deep breath. The cold rose to her nose, and she laughed.
“By the way, that scarf you're wearing suits you,” she said, pointing to the red one around Rover's neck.
“But it's yours.”
“Then...” Chisa tilted her head elegantly, “it suits you much better because it has something of me in it.”
Rover looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Something of you?”
Chisa nodded as if it were obvious.
“Take it as a gift from me and as a Christmas present. And also take it as a gift from all of Honami for helping her celebrate these holidays again.”
Rover didn't know what to say. But the idea of carrying such a weight of trust and gratitude from Chisa gave him an unexpected warmth.
“Then I won't take it off,” he said finally, seriously.
Chisa laughed, and the sound mingled with the wind.
On the way back, they passed a shop selling small paper figures. Chisa stopped, looking at a shelf with ornaments: stars, snowflakes, bells.
“Would you like... one?” she asked, hesitantly.
“What for?”
Chisa shrugged.
“Just asking. They're kind of cute, and I'd like you to have a little souvenir of the city. You know, in case you want something from Honami wherever you sleep on the other side.”
Rover looked at the ornaments. He picked one up: a small, simple paper star with a gold thread.
“This one... Yeah, I think this one,” he said.
Chisa looked at him curiously.
“Why that one?”
Rover held the star carefully, as if it were fragile.
“Because... it looks... shiny, and it's like real stars,” he replied seriously. “They light up in the dark. If you hang it where there's no light, then you'll know where to find yourself, and if there's light, it will shine brighter.”
Chisa looked at him in amazement, as if he had just said something very important. Cheesy, but also very important, which she understood very well.
Whatever Rover's reasons were, she liked his words and laughed a little.
“You... always say weird things,” she murmured, blushing.
“I don't mean to.”
“I know,” she replied, smiling.
After a short time, which amounted to a minute or two, they had both bought the star. Although, it was Rover who had paid for it.
He paid quickly and they left the store right away.
Chisa was happy to see Rover so pleased with the purchase. However, what she didn't expect was to see him standing in front of her, looking at her.
Rover held out the star to her, offering it to her as he held it in his hands.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, trying out the phrase as if it were new.
Chisa held the star.
“Excuse me?”
“Isn't that what you told me?” Rover asked ironically. “That at this time of year, you give gifts to the people who are important to you.”
Faced with such statements, Chisa couldn't contain the blush on her face, leaving her very vulnerable.
“I thought you were going to take it,” she murmured shyly.
In response to the girl's doubts, Rover pointed to the small garment around his neck.
“I already have your scarf, so there's no problem.”
Chisa blinked her eyes.
“Are you going to take my scarf?” she asked curiously.
“Huh? Weren't you giving it to me as a gift?”
The idea made sense in Chisa's mind. She hadn't thought about it or had such intentions, but the idea now began to take hold in her mind and her blush became much more noticeable. It was no longer just because of the warmth of his body against the cold, but because of embarrassment.
Knowing that Rover had thought of and accepted the scarf as a gift was... exciting.
She didn't know what to do.
“Are you going to make me immune to the cold?” she asked in a joking tone, but without losing any of her embarrassment and shyness.
Now it seemed that Rover thought about it a little and really began to reconsider the scarf.
Chisa had also thought the same thing when she saw him, but she quickly approached him. She took the scarf to rearrange it.
“I was joking, I have nothing against you having it,” she whispered, her face very red as her eyes sparkled alongside the lights around her.
As soon as she stayed a moment readjusting the scarf around Rover's neck, she looked him in the eyes as their faces fogged up with the warm breath that was expelled with each other's sighs.
“Merry Christmas,” she repeated the same words with a certain shyness.
After that, they both became a little stiff in each other's presence, but without losing the warmth they were feeling in their chests.
They said nothing for the rest of the way to the café.
Chisa simply remained silent and let herself be carried away by the moment as she took Rover's hand as before.
He accepted it, providing the warmth that the scarf was giving her.
If she was cold, he wanted to give her that warmth.
When they arrived near the café, the night was already quieter. The windows of the café glowed with warmth. Laughter and the clatter of cups could be heard. Namipon was surely satisfied with the clientele.
Chisa stopped just before the entrance. Her hand was still intertwined with Rover's, and for a second she seemed to hesitate, as if she didn't want the moment to end.
“Thank you,” she said again, softly. “For coming. For walking with me.” Her voice broke a little. “For everything.”
Rover looked at her. The red scarf was still around her neck. Snow fell on Chisa's hair as if crowning her with little stars.
“I'm doing this because I really don't want you to be alone,” he said with certainty.
Chisa swallowed. She looked up, and their eyes met. There was a silence that was not empty: it was a bridge.
Rover took another step closer, slowly, as if he didn't want to scare her. Chisa didn't back away. In fact, she stayed put. Her breathing trembled, but her body didn't flee.
“Chisa...” Rover said, and her name sounded like a promise.
Chisa shuddered.
“Yes?”
Rover raised a hand, hesitating for a second before barely touching her cheek with his fingers.
The contact was surprisingly soft. Even though he was wearing gloves, he could feel the soft, warm sensation of Chisa's skin.
The touch of his hand and Rover's closeness made her skin tingle, and a warm current ran through her body like a ray of light.
“If you don't mind... Do you have a problem with me continuing to check on you to see how you're feeling?”
She remained silent. She listened to what he was saying as her eyes widened slightly.
“I want to... keep coming. Not just to check that you're okay. But because...” He paused, and for the first time that night, he seemed vulnerable to her. “...when I'm here with you, I feel much more relaxed. And I feel like I can forget about everything else while I'm by your side.”
Chisa looked at him with wide eyes, and a sweet emotion filled her chest.
“Me too,” she whispered. “With you... I no longer feel afraid to think about the past, and it only inspires me to think about my future... That I can have one... and if you're in it... it would be so much better, senpai.”
Rover held her gaze for a second longer. And then, as if he had made a decision that needed no further analysis, he leaned in.
It wasn't a quick or dramatic kiss. It was slow, careful, asking without words.
Chisa closed her eyes and responded with the same gentleness. Her fingers squeezed Rover's, and for a moment, everything that had been pain in Honami became something else: a place where it was possible to start over.
When they separated, Chisa was red again, but this time her blush was accompanied by a bright smile.
Rover looked at her and, without meaning to, smiled back, a small smile that was rare for him.
“Why that face? Am I a good kisser?” he asked, with a seriousness that made Chisa laugh.
“Maybe,” she said. “What about me? Am I good at it too?”
Rover nodded, as if that answer were enough to satisfy Chisa's curiosity.
He had the urge to press his lips to hers again, but it was still cold. He could stand it, but Chisa couldn't, so he decided to take her inside the café.
They entered the café together. Namipon saw them from behind the counter and almost dropped a cup when she saw them so close together, holding hands. The capybaras moved as if they were silently celebrating.
For the first time in a long time, Chisa felt that Honami wasn't such a bad place... Not when she had Rover with her.
And for the first time in a long time, she didn't know if she would enjoy Christmas or winter again. However, this time she wouldn't be alone.
She had someone with her who she was sure would never leave her alone.
THE END