Archive of Our Own

Author's POV

Golden light fell in long, slanting beams through the open windows of the empty wooden house, illuminating the dust that drifted lazily through the air. Shadows gathered in the untouched corners, stretching beneath the old furniture and along the weathered walls. Beyond the windows, the trees swayed gently in the afternoon breeze, their leaves shimmering bright beneath the sun. Somewhere in the distance, birds chirped, their songs strangely peaceful against the silence of the house.

He sat on the wooden floor near the entrance, resting on his shins.

The edges of his lashes caught the sunlight whenever he blinked, making the blue of his eyes glimmer faintly before disappearing beneath their lowered lids.

He stared down at his palms.

Fine, shallow scratches crossed the skin in uneven lines, some already drying into pale, rust-coloured marks. Tiny flecks of earth clung stubbornly to the creases of his hands, and dark crescents of dirt remained beneath his fingernails. There were small abrasions along his wrists and the backs of his fingers, where branches had scraped him as he ran.

His legs were no better.

Thin scratches travelled over his shins and knees, some barely more than red lines, others darkened with dried mud. Every now and then, when he shifted his weight, a faint ache travelled up his legs—a reminder of the tangled roots, stones and branches he had stumbled over the night before.

The bandage on his nose had remained surprisingly intact, despite everything. It covered the faint scratch he had gotten a few days ago whilst playing army with his friends.

The forest had been dark.

His breath had burned in his throat, his feet slipping over tangled roots as the first explosion thundered somewhere behind him. He remembered his mother's voice telling him to keep going.

Or, perhaps, he only remembered what he wished she had said.

It had been meant to be a simple walk shared between the two of them. She had taken his hand and asked him to walk with her after the argument he'd had with his father earlier that afternoon. Perhaps, she had understood that walking, and humming the lullaby he had loved hearing her sing since he was a child, would calm him down.

It did.

It had been a stupid argument—one he should have learnt to let go of years ago.

He had wanted one simple thing: a military outfit representing the Westalis army, complete with a matching toy gun, so he could dress the part when he played army with his friends. He had always wanted to join the military. To defend Westalis against those Ostanian devils.

He had explained this to his father countless times.

But the man's reply was always the same:

You're a coward. You can't even protect yourself, so don't fool yourself into thinking you're capable of protecting anyone else. You want to be an officer? You wouldn't last a day carrying the responsibility of other people's lives. You're not fit to lead soldiers, and you never will be.

He could still remember the childish anger that had followed.

The sharp words.

His father's face.

And then—

The slap.

His cheek still seemed to remember the sting.

...

Guess Dad was right about that.

I did run like a coward last night.

I didn't even turn around to check on Mum.

Another bird chirped outside.

The branches continued to sway, their leaves whispering softly against one another. The room was quiet enough for him to hear the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his weight.

Not that there was anyone left to hear his apology.

Then—

His vision blurred.

His shoulders tensed. His hands curled into trembling fists, gripping the fabric of his shorts so tightly that the material gathered in wrinkled folds beneath his fingers.

The first tear slipped free before he could stop it.

Then, another.

Soon, thick, hot tears spilled down his cheeks despite every desperate attempt to hold them back. He clenched his jaw, swallowing hard as though he could force the grief back down into the place where he had kept it buried. The effort only sent a dull, throbbing ache through his head.

I just wanted to have fun.

Just one night without an argument.

One small, ordinary moment of peace.

Even that had been taken from me.

The leaves overhead swayed gently in the breeze, their soft rustling muffling the sound of her footsteps upon the grass. She followed the narrow path at an unhurried pace, the greenery gathering quietly around her as though the forest itself was guiding her home.

She carried a small wicker basket in both hands, filled with freshly picked apples. Their skins were a brilliant red against the warm brown of the woven basket, each one catching a stray fragment of sunlight whenever she passed beneath an opening in the trees.

Though, she was only fifteen, there was something quietly elegant about her. Perhaps, it was the simplicity of the way she moved—unhurried, graceful without meaning to be, entirely unaware of how lovely the afternoon had made her look.

Her dress fell to mid-calf, a deep, warm red that appeared almost luminous against the green surrounding her. Two long braids rested over her shoulders, swaying softly with each step. The ends brushed against the fabric of her dress as she walked.

Sunlight filtered through the canopy overhead, breaking apart between the leaves before falling across the path. Every so often, a beam caught in her dark hair, tracing the edges of her braids with a delicate golden glow. Loose strands escaped here and there, shining for the briefest moment whenever she stepped into the light, only to vanish again beneath the cool shade.

She smiled to herself.

It was a small, almost bashful smile, the sort that came naturally when her thoughts wandered towards someone she loved.

The apples shifted softly inside the basket.

Yuri would love these.

She continued to walk when she stopped—a sound had reached her through the trees. She glanced towards the old wooden house to her left. It had been left abandoned by the family that lived here after their son got a transfer to a better job in the big city. Since then, the place had always stood empty, its windows open to the wind and its door rarely shut.

Oh? Is someone there?

She listened.

There it was again: a quiet, broken sound.

Her brows knitted together. She remained still for a moment, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. Then, another sound reached her, unmistakable this time.

Someone was crying.

Her breath caught.

She immediately made her way towards the house, the basket forgotten in her hands as her concern quickened her steps. She wondered what condition the poor person inside might be in, but reminded herself not to approach too suddenly as she didn't want to frighten them.

She stepped across the threshold, and stopped to see a young boy sitting on the wooden floor near the entrance, his shoulders trembling as he cried. He looked small; far too small to be carrying such sorrow. She felt a faint ache in her chest. Oh... For a moment, she simply watches him, unsure of what to say. 

The boy seems to notice the change in the light. He slowly raises his head, blinking through tear-blurred eyes at the figure standing in the doorway and blocking the afternoon sun.

A girl.

She had dark hair braided neatly over her shoulders and a pair of striking red eyes that regarded him with unmistakable concern.

He blinked. She doesn't look like anyone from my town. His eyes lingered on her face. Did she get lost?

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then the girl seemed to realise she was simply staring at him.

"Oh—oh, are you all right?"

Her voice was soft.

She quickly lowered herself beside him, setting the basket of apples on the floor without a second thought. Her attention remained entirely on the boy in front of her. She studied him with wide, curious eyes—almost like a kitten encountering something unfamiliar for the very first time.

He tried to answer, but nothing came. His throat had been dry and constricted since the night before. Perhaps, it was thirst. Perhaps, it was all the crying. Perhaps, he simply no longer remembered how to make words come when he needed them.

The girl noticed his silence.

Without saying anything, she reached towards him.

Her hands gently cupped his cheeks.

Her palms were soft and warm, carrying the faint heat of the afternoon. The warmth seeped gradually into his chilled skin, so subtle at first that he almost mistook it for the sunlight.

Her eyes never left his face.

She looked at him with quiet concern, her thumb moving naturally beneath his eye to brush away a tear. When another slipped down his cheek, she caught that one too, her touch light and unhurried. Her fingers lingered for a moment, smoothing the dampness from his skin as though there were nothing more ordinary in the world than comforting someone who was hurt.

Loid remained perfectly still.

Once.

Then again.

The motion was so gentle that something inside him seemed to loosen. Little by little, the tension in his face began to ease beneath her touch, the rigid set of his features softening without him quite realising it. The tightness in his shoulders eased by the smallest degree. His breathing became quieter. A quiet warmth spread through him, delicate at first, then deeper. Perhaps, it was the sunlight that had finally found him, resting in a pale wash across his face.

He remained perfectly still.

A small smile touched her lips. It was hardly more than a curve, but it softened her whole expression even more than it was. Her hands slipped gently from his cheeks and found his right hand instead, her fingers folding around it before her other hand settled over his. She held it between both palms, as though it were something precious that ought to be kept warm.

“There, there,” she murmured, giving his hand two soft little pats. Her fingers then drifted over his knuckles in a slow, absent caress; four fingertips brushing gently back and forth. Her dark lashes lowered slightly, casting fine shadows over her cheeks, whilst that same quiet smile lingered at the corners of her mouth.

"You don't have to be scared," she whispered. Her fingers curled a little more securely around his. "You're safe here."

She looked at him then with open, welcoming eyes. "I'm Yor. What's your name?"

Loid could only stare at her. His lips parted, his muscles tensed as though even speaking required an effort he no longer possessed, before his shoulders slowly relaxed.

"Loid."

The name emerged as little more than a murmur, his voice rough and raspy from thirst and exhaustion.

"That's a nice name," she murmured. She then glanced towards the trees outside. "The town isn't very far from here," she said quietly. "Would you like me to take you there?"

“Uh…”

Before he could manage another word, Yor had already risen to her feet, though she still held his hand. With her free hand, she reached for the basket she had so thoroughly forgotten in the midst of everything else.

“Come on,” she said softly. “Please. Let me help you.”

Loid knew there was little point in refusing her. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, his legs protesting beneath him as his weight settled upon them. The bruises along his shins throbbed with each movement, a dull ache that made him instinctively tense, but Yor remained at his side, patient and attentive, never once hurrying him.

When he was finally steady, she offered him a small, reassuring smile before gently letting her fingers slip from his. She returned that hand to the basket, clasping it with both hands as she lifted it against her side.

Together, they stepped out of the house.

Yor walked beside him at an easy, unhurried pace, subtly adjusting her stride whenever she sensed him beginning to lag, and, for the first time since the previous night, Loid found that the weight of his loneliness had eased, if only a little.

The sun was merciless overhead, yet the town had somehow managed to make the air feel lighter.

Everywhere he looked, people were beginning to put their lives back together.

Men and women cleared the remnants of collapsed buildings, carrying broken timber and chunks of masonry from the streets. Others planted fresh saplings in the newly cleared earth. Further down the road, several families worked together to rebuild a house, passing planks and logs from one pair of hands to another.

Those who knew how to cook had set up makeshift stalls, handing out warm meals to children and survivors who had nowhere else to go. Somewhere nearby, behind one of the stalls, a young woman rocked a crying baby against her shoulder, murmuring softly until the little one finally quietened.

There was something strange about it.

It was the way everyone seemed to have decided, without needing to say so, that they would help one another.

A sense of community.

Loid watched in silence as several men carried heavy logs towards a half-collapsed house, laughing amongst themselves despite the sweat running down their faces.

This... isn't my town.

His eyes wandered across the unfamiliar streets.

Is it?

"Good Lord."

The sudden voice made him blink.

"You're staring at everyone as though you've only just discovered how people work, young lad."

He turned towards the voice and found an elderly woman standing behind a small stall in front of him, her hands busy shaping croquettes.

Beside him, Yor gave a quiet chuckle, lifting a hand towards her lips. The movement caught Loid's attention, and he simply glanced at her. He sure is in awe right now. He must still be a little shaky. He was asking weird questions about geographical layouts earlier.

She lowered her hand, though the smile remained.

"One croquette, please, ma'am," Yor said softly.

"Coming right up." The old woman turned her attention to the food, reaching for a pair of tongs.

Loid watched her hands with an odd sense of familiarity. The smell of the food reached him, warm and savoury, and something deep within him stirred.

Croquettes.

He remembered eating them with his friends after school, or after helping the older men prepare for the town festivals; running errands and carrying things far too heavy for them whilst the elders argued over whether the war would ever truly come, each of them certain that his own opinion was the only sensible one.

Those days felt impossibly distant now.

Not that any of them are alive now.

The thought settled heavily inside his chest.

"You did a fine job bringing this young lad here, Yor," the old woman said as she continued preparing the food. "Though, I must say, you ought to stay closer to town rather than wandering into the forest. The news says bombs could fall at any time. And goodness knows what those soldiers might do if they found a young girl out there alone."

"Oh—yes, ma'am," Yor replied, her voice as gentle as ever. "I only went out to pick some apples for Yuri. I read somewhere that they're good for boys his age." She paused thoughtfully. "They say eating three apples a day keeps the doctor away."

Loid gave her a sidelong glance. She spoke the sentence with such sincerity that he couldn’t help but wonder whether she had taken its meaning literally. She doesn't actually believe that... does she?

The old woman chuckled. "Oh, Yuri. That sweet boy. It's been a while since I've seen him. Why don't you bring him by next time?"

"Oh, I can't," Yor said, perfectly sincere. "He told me you look like a devil who makes croquettes out of human flesh, so he asked me never to bring him here again."

Loid stared at her.

There it was again, that same expression.

Loid looked away.

She's either incredibly brave...

He glanced back at her.

...or she has absolutely no sense of self-preservation.

He decided it was probably the latter.

"Hey!" the old woman scolded, though the irritation lasted only a moment before her expression softened. She turned her attention towards Loid. "Young lad, there's a medical tent just down that road." She pointed towards a large canvas tent further along the street. "Why don't you go and have those bruises looked at?"

Loid became suddenly conscious of the state of himself. His gaze dropped to his palms, still scraped and dirty, before he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and gave a small, nervous laugh.

"It's all right. I think I'll be fine."

"Oh, don't be shy." The old woman gently scolded, looking at him. "That young girl went all the way into the forest and brought you here safely. You ought to give yourself a proper chance to heal. Don't let her kindness go to waste."

Then she turned towards a group of boys lounging on some heavy bags a little away from the stall.

"Boys!"

Three heads turned.

"Come over here and take this lad to the medical tent. He could use a bit of treatment."

"Sure, thing!" The one wearing spectacles replied back.

The boys rose and approached, stopping in front of Loid. They looked to be a year or two older than Loid, perhaps seventeen or eighteen. All three wore similar dark-green uniforms, though they had clearly seen better days.

The largest of the three looked Loid up and down. "You look like you've just crawled out of a grave."

The other two snorted.

"Oi," the one with black hair said.

"What? I'm only saying."

The larger boy then grinned at Loid. "You should count yourself lucky. If the Westalis soldiers had got to you first, I reckon you'd look a whole lot worse than that."

Westalis soldiers? His mind snagged on the words. Why would they do anything to me—?

Then, it clicked, and he went still.

...I'm... I'm in Ostania? 

His eyes widened as the pieces fell into place, one after another. No wonder nothing seemed to make sense. I-...

He wasn’t in his town.

He wasn’t even in Westalis.

“Hey, cut it out, Corporal. You don’t even know where he’s from,” the one with the glasses said.

“Oh, that’s right. Where are you from? Don’t tell me you’re from Westalis,” Corporal said.

Loid couldn’t find his voice.

His fingers twitched against his sides. His eyes remained fixed ahead.

What do I do?

What if they hand me to the Ostanian army?

What if they kill me?

Then he felt the soft brush of fabric against his skin, the quiet rustle of Yor’s dress grazing his calves. The small, familiar sound seemed to draw him back into the present. When he looked up, he found her standing before him.

"You shouldn't frighten him." Her voice remained gentle, neither raised nor sharpened into anger, yet there was a quiet firmness beneath it. "He's already been through something frightening enough." Her gaze moved between the three boys. "Ma’am told you to take him to the tent, so please do that.”

She paused for a moment, her expression calm and sincere. "Whatever side he comes from, I don't think that matters right now." Her fingers curled lightly around the handle of her basket. "Perhaps, we can let him be a frightened boy for a little while, instead of asking him to explain where he belongs."

The three boys fell silent.

For a moment, none of them seemed to know what to say.

The boy with black hair folded his arms. "He could be a spy, for all we know."

The boy with glasses immediately nudged him in the ribs. "You're making it worse, Major."

"What? He could!"

"And you could stop watching so many spy films."

Major sighed, "Fine." He looked at Loid again, his expression softening. "I guess we were being a bit aggressive."

The boy with glasses smiled awkwardly, "Yeah. Sorry about that." He glanced at Loid's pale face and gave a small chuckle. "Besides, you don't exactly look like a spy. You look more like the sort of guy who'd grow up to be a doctor."

The black-haired boy laughed.

"Or a librarian."

"Oi, that's not an insult."

"It is if you're trying to sound cool."

The larger boy rolled his eyes before looking back at Loid, silently accepting defeat too. "Sorry, bro."

The guy with glasses placed a hand on Loid's shoulder. "Corporal here gets a bit carried away."

"I do not!"

"Boys," the old woman warned. She placed a freshly cooked croquette on the counter with a pointed look.

"Right, ma'am. We're going," the boy with glasses gestured towards Loid. "Come on. Let's get you patched up." He paused. "Er... what was your name again?"

"Loid." 

"Loid, huh?" He nodded thoughtfully. "You know, that name sounds like it belongs to an adviser."

Loid blinked.

"In our army game, I mean. You look like you'd be good at that sort of role." He nodded towards Loid's battered clothes. "Once those scratches heal, maybe you can join us sometime."

Loid stared at him.

So, Ostanians play army games too...

That piece of knowledge felt strange to him.

“Wait. Before you go, do not forget to take this.”

Yor's voice made him turn.

She placed the bag containing the new dish into his hands. Her palms, still warm, briefly covered the undersides of his own, as though making certain he had taken hold of it properly. The simple gesture startled him more than it ought to have. His eyes widened, and for a moment he could only look down at the bag between them.

“Oh, I thought you…” The words faded before he could finish them.

“I bought this for you.” She said it with such a gentle smile that Loid wondered if she had already understood what he had been about to say. “I will be heading home from here,” she continued. Releasing his hands, she reached towards the counter for the apple basket she had left there earlier, wanting to place the bag in his hands first. Her fingers curled around the handle once more, and she drew the basket towards herself. “I have to look after my brother.”

Oh.

The thought settled quietly in Loid’s mind. Of course. Her brother.

“Please, take care of yourself,” Yor said softly. She straightened, the basket resting before her, and for a brief moment they simply stood there looking at one another.

Loid lowered his gaze to the bag in his hands. He wanted to say something—anything. A simple word of thanks would have been enough. Perhaps, he could tell her that he would repay her later, or that she needn’t have gone to the trouble. Yet the words felt difficult to find. His mouth opened, but nothing came.

Before he could gather himself, the three men had already begun leading him towards the tent on the opposite side of the grounds. Loid glanced back at Yor once before turning his attention forward again. His gaze fell briefly to the bag in his hands.

It was only then that the smallness of the gesture seemed to reach him. She had thought of him. Had gone to the trouble of buying it for him, and had waited until he had taken it before leaving herself.

His fingers tightened slightly around the handle.

Then he looked ahead again.

A couple of months had passed since that day.

The war between Ostania and Westalis had settled into something resembling stability.

The bombs had stopped falling on the smaller towns and cities, supplies had begun arriving more regularly, and medical aid was reaching the regions that needed it most. The war itself had not officially ended, leaving people wary of what might happen next, but the newspapers had started reporting that negotiation delegations were being sent between Ostania and Westalis to discuss what would come after.

Strangely enough, whilst the two governments remained occupied with negotiations and old grievances, the two towns on opposite sides of the border had begun doing something far more ordinary: they had started helping one another.

Loid had remained in the town for a few more days, becoming familiar with its people and helping wherever he could. He had been careful not to reveal too much about himself, especially around those who still carried anger towards Westalis and its people. Eventually, his three new friends had decided to help him find his way home.

General had known of a route through the forest that led towards the neighbouring town. He had not been sure whether it was safe, as he had never actually tried to sneak into the town next door. When they had asked how he knew of it, he had casually explained that he and his father used to go camping, and that it had not been difficult to find the neighbouring town after spending too long among the trees, especially with a detailed map in hand.

The path had turned out to be cleaner and easier to follow than the four boys had expected.

It had been night when Loid finally returned to his town.

A cold breeze passed through his hair as he stood at the edge of the familiar streets, the trees behind him swaying gently in the cold air, watching the townspeople gathered around an open backed supply truck. A long line had formed beside it, with volunteers handing out food and other necessities. Despite the late hour, many people had remained outside, talking quietly amongst themselves.

Someone near the back of the queue had noticed the four boys standing by the forest. Another person had followed their gaze, and before long, several faces had turned towards them.

Recognition had spread through the crowd.

His aunt was among those who came forward. The moment she saw him, she hurried over and pulled him into her arms, relief evident in her voice as she whispered that she had been afraid he was dead.

Loid had hugged her back almost instinctively. Her warmth had eased something inside him that had remained tense since the day he left, though that relief had not lasted long.

She had told him about his parents.

His father had died somewhere near the border after leaving for a business meeting when the earlier bombing had struck. There had been little left to recover.

And his mother...

Loid had not needed an explanation for that.

Somewhere during those days away from home, he had already understood that he might never see either of them again. Hearing it from his aunt had only given words to something he had been carrying without them.

He had not told her.

Instead, he had held her tightly and allowed her to cry against his shoulder. Whatever grief had remained hidden behind his expression, he had kept it to himself until later that night, when he had finally closed his bedroom door.

The townspeople had gradually gathered around them, relieved to see Loid alive and offering their sympathy. The moment might have remained quiet if Corporal had not made an offhand remark about Westalians being an emotional bunch.

The words had nearly exposed them.

Several people had immediately turned towards the boys, demanding to know where they had come from and how they found Loid. Suspicion had begun spreading through the crowd until a young woman stepped forward and asked whether they knew if her uncle was safe.

"My uncle lives there," she had said, clasping her hands together. "Did you see him?"

The question had silenced the accusations almost as quickly as they had begun.

Then, another person had asked about a brother. Someone else had wanted to know about a daughter, a cousin, a childhood friend. Mothers had asked about their children, grandparents about their grandchildren, and people who had not heard from loved ones in months had gathered around the three boys simply hoping for some small piece of news.

The boys had struggled to answer everyone at once.

Loid had watched it all from nearby, slowly realising how closely the two towns had always been connected despite the border between them. The people on the other side had families waiting for them, friends worrying about them, homes that had suffered from the same war and lives that had been disrupted in much the same way.

They had not been as different as everyone had been taught to believe.

That night, the townspeople had remained together long after the supplies had been handed out. Their questions about the other town had gradually turned into a conversation about what they could do for one another. By the time Major, Corporal and General prepared to leave, they had been carrying a letter written by the townspeople for the people on the other side.

More letters had followed in the days afterward.

Before long, the forest route between the two towns had begun to change. Fallen branches had been cleared, loose stones moved aside, and the overgrown path widened so that people could travel between the towns more easily. Loid had helped with the work whenever he could, as had the others.

What had once been a rough trail that Loid had taken home had gradually become a proper path between the two towns, one that people could now walk in either direction without fear.

...

Loid now stands in front of a beautiful house at the far end of her town, well away from where he had been working. The house was surrounded by greenery, with flowers blooming in every direction and birds chirping merrily from the trees. It was the sort of place that seemed to exist in its own little world, untouched by the noise and bustle of the rest of the town.

It was so peaceful here.

There were barely any houses nearby, allowing him to hear even the gentlest sounds of nature—the rustling leaves, the soft whisper of the breeze as it brushed against his skin and lifted his hair. Even the afternoon sunlight seemed gentler here, warm against his skin rather than harsh or overbearing.

A small piece of paper was tucked between his fingers, the address of the house written neatly across it.

And then there was Yor.

She stood before him with that same gentle smile of hers, dressed in a pretty pink dress. Her hair was tied into two braids, just as he remembered from the last time he had seen her.

He hadn't seen much of her over the past few months, aside from the occasional encounters at the market. He had been busy helping to build the path between the two towns, which meant he spent most of his time closer to the worksite, and by nightfall, he was expected to return to his aunt's house.

One afternoon, while Loid had been buying snacks with some of the other boys in her town, Yor had happened to see him while shopping for supplies for the house. That was when she had given him her address and invited him to visit. She wanted to show him around and, more importantly, finally introduce him to Yuri.

Loid had kept the little piece of paper tucked safely among his belongings ever since, waiting until things between the two towns had settled down.

And now, he was finally here.

His gaze drifts down to the little boy hiding behind Yor's dress. Yuri peers at him from behind the folds of pink, one tiny hand curled tightly into the fabric.

Yor glances gently over her shoulder. Her voice was soft, almost as quiet as the breeze surrounding them. "Yuri, this is Loid. The boy I've been telling you about. He's from the neighbouring town. Say hello."

Yuri's fingers tighten around her dress as he looks at Loid. "...Hello."

Loid smiles. He bends slightly at the knees, resting his palms against them as he summons the brightest and friendliest smile he could manage. "Hey, Yuri. It's very nice to finally meet you. I'm Loid."

Being an only child, Loid had often wondered what it might be like to have a sibling in the house.

Yuri frowns. He is being too nice.

Yuri looks to the left, then to the right. "...Where's your family?"

The question caught Loid off guard.

"Why are you alone? Are you here to hurt my sister?"

That caught him even more off guard. Loid straightened, staring at the boy in disbelief.

Yor gasps softly. "Yuri..." she scolds, her voice carrying the embarrassed gentleness of an older sister pleading with her younger brother not to make a spectacle of himself. "I've told you many times not to ask people those sorts of questions. Loid isn't a bad person. Don't be rude."

Yuri merely huffs and looks away, his small face settling into a deeper frown. "I was only asking."

Loid stared at the boy, unsure what exactly to make of him. I'm going to have to deal with this kid forever, aren't I?

Yor gives a nervous little chuckle before looking back at him. "I'm sorry. He gets a bit grumpy when he meets new people."

Loid could only offer her a gentle smile in return. What else could he do? "Oh, it's all right. He's only a child, after all."

"I'm not a child."

Loid's eyes shifted towards Yuri.

He could have sworn he heard the boy mutter it beneath his breath, and, for some reason, the urge to tell him, "You are one," was considerably stronger than he had expected.

Yor then invites Loid inside, leaving Yuri in the living room with his toys before beginning to show him around the house.

The house was simple and clean, and Loid found himself admiring it. Most of the windows had been left open, allowing the afternoon sunlight and the soft breeze to wander freely through the rooms. The curtains stirred gently with every passing gust, carrying with them the faint scent of flowers from outside.

Yet, strangely, it wasn't the house itself that held his attention the most.

It was the way Yor spoke about every little detail he might otherwise have overlooked, as though she were showing a dear friend around a dollhouse she had carefully put together herself.

Her voice remained soft and grateful as she spoke about the furniture her mother had chosen, the pictures hanging on the walls, and the books she had bought for Yuri because he loved learning.

Loid noticed that her house was much more colourful than his aunt's as well. There were little signs of a life lived here that he wouldn't have thought to notice otherwise.

It was peaceful.

Except for the part where Yuri was following the pair around like a secret spy; hiding behind walls and crouching at the feet of chairs and sofas.

Loid couldn’t tell whether the boy was mimicking that popular spy cartoon every kid seemed obsessed with, or had something else entirely in mind. The little boy wore the fierce expression of a child determined to reclaim his favourite sweet from someone who had stolen it.

Yor seemed completely unaware of the boy, speaking softly as she pointed out a picture on the wall. Loid decided to ignore Yuri as well, although it was becoming increasingly difficult when the child was staring at him as though he might murder Loid simply for existing—or something along those lines.

“And this is the kitchen,” Yor said gently as she led him further inside. “I was actually cleaning the dishes earlier, so my dress got a little stained.” She gave an embarrassed smile and instinctively shifted slightly, as though hoping the small stain would escape his notice.

Loid barely seemed to pay attention to it. His gaze had already wandered across the kitchen, taking in the spotless counters and neatly arranged shelves. “You keep the place so neat and clean,” he remarked before taking a seat at the dining table.

Across from him, Yuri was perched on a chair, his head barely visible above the tabletop. The boy's perpetual scowl remained firmly in place as he watched Loid with an unmistakably suspicious glare.

“Do you help your sister around the house, Yuri?” Loid asked, hoping to find some way of building a connection with the boy.

“I actually make it worse when I try to help her…” Yuri murmured, his eyes widening as a sudden realisation hit him. “Oh, no! I wanna help you now, Sis!”

Yuri jumped to his feet and toddled over to the dishwasher, determined to help. He stretched up onto his tiptoes, struggling to reach one of the clean plates.

“Oh, no, you are not.” Yor, now wearing an orange apron, quickly stepped in, gently taking hold of his hands and guiding them away from the dishes. “You’ll hurt yourself again, just like last time when you broke one,” she reminded him before crouching down to his level.

“You didn't have to say that in front of him,” Yuri grumbled under his breath, his cheeks puffing out slightly.

Yor lifted one finger. "You can help me by talking to Loid and becoming his friend whilst I prepare the dishes for lunch."

“I don't want to,” Yuri replied grumpily. He turned his face away with all the dignity of someone who had been gravely wronged.

Seeing that he was still resisting, Yor leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. “I'll buy you that science book you wanted last week if you do. Could you do that for me, Yuri?”

The science book certainly wasn’t what had made the screws in the boy’s head come loose—fine, maybe it helped a little. A faint blush appears on his cheeks, his eyes sparkling in awe as he gasps. "Yes—yes, sister!" He runs back to his chair, climbing onto it and sitting down.

Yor smiled happily before she stood up and began plating the food for lunch.

Loid watched Yuri settle himself down again with a concerned expression. The kid has serious issues. Or is this normal in the Briar household?

The thought made something click.

From what I heard from the townspeople, Yor and Yuri's parents died in the war as well. They don't even have any relatives.

Loid's gaze drifted toward the patio doors, which offered a view of the beautiful nature outside. There weren't many houses nearby either; most of them were scattered throughout the area. The main town wasn't too far away, but even so, the Briars were still isolated most of the time.

His gaze lingers.

...

They really are alone.

The sound of plates clinking against one another brought Loid's attention back to the table, although his thoughts remained elsewhere.

Does this mean Yor does all the work?

Reaching for a spoon, Loid absentmindedly scooped up a portion of the dish without really looking at it.

It must be so hard for her. Looking after Yuri while maintaining the entire household couldn't have been easy, especially when there was no one else around to help.

He brought the spoon to his mouth and took a bite, his thoughts already settling on what he could do.

I should help her whenever I get the chance.

Then—

Ack!

Loid stopped.

He blinked.

Slowly, he lowered the spoon and looked down at his plate.

There was a fish. Its bones had been carefully removed, which was perhaps the kindest thing he could say about it. A syrupy purple liquid surrounded it, bubbling faintly in places.

Loid stared. His throat tightened.

He swallowed once.

No.

He gagged again, though this time he managed to cover his mouth.

No way Yor made this.

"Is everything all right, Loid?"

Loid looked up to see Yor was sitting beside him, watching him with complete and innocent concern.

“I—I... uh...” Loid struggled to find an appropriate response. Did she truly not realise how problematic this was? He wanted to remain polite. He wanted to maintain his dignity. Most importantly, he needed to avoid insulting Yor after everything she had for him.

Unfortunately, no suitable excuse came to mind.

"Oh, no!" Yor suddenly clasped her hands together, apparently remembering something. "I must have forgotten to add some salt. I'm so sorry, Loid. Let me get some."

She immediately stood and began opening the kitchen cupboards.

"Oh, no. Where is it?" she murmured, growing increasingly distressed. "I must have misplaced it."

“Yor, you really don't have to...” Loid tried to reassure her, but she was already searching through another cabinet with increasing urgency.

Yuri, meanwhile, watched the commotion with an almost bored expression. He looked down at his own plate. "Huh. Seems about right to me." He took another bite and, to Loid's astonishment, his face immediately brightened. “Oh, my God, Sister! This is amazing!”

He continued eating with genuine enthusiasm, as though he had been served the finest meal imaginable.

Loid stared at him in disbelief.

Amazing?!

He glanced towards Yor, who was still frantically searching the cupboards, before looking back at Yuri.

Is this normal in the Briar household?!

His gaze slowly returned to the food. The fish stared back at him.

...

Loid took a slow breath.

It's fine.

Just swallow it.

Take a few more bites.

Then tell her you were already full.

Easy.

He raised the spoon again.

I've survived worse.

He took another bite and chewed it. He then swallowed.

...

See? Simple.

The room tilted.

Loid blinked.

The ceiling seemed to drift sideways.

His vision blurred.

The table rose to meet his forehead.

Thud.

The last thing he remembered hearing was Yor's horrified scream.

"Loid!"

・・・

His body became aware of its surroundings before his mind could catch up.

One hand rested loosely over his stomach, his fingers twitching once or twice as consciousness slowly returned to them. Beneath his other hand was the soft fabric of the sofa, warm from the afternoon air and yielding beneath his weight. There was a faint coolness against his face, carried in through the open windows, whilst the quiet warmth of the room settled over the rest of him. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, the weight of his limbs sinking comfortably into the cushions.

"Hmm, hmm..."

A soft humming reached his ears. The melody was familiar, a lullaby sung in a low and gentle voice. It was something about a prince sleeping under the silver shine.

I know that lullaby.

Loid opened his eyes.

His vision was blurred at first, the room nothing more than soft shapes and muted colours. Gradually, the familiar brown of the wooden ceiling came into focus. He blinked once, then pushed himself upright. The movement made his head feel slightly heavy, but the room remained steady.

The humming continued.

He turned towards it.

Yor stood at the table in the adjoining kitchen, wiping its surface with a pink cloth. A quiet smile rested on her lips as she worked, seemingly unaware that he had woken.

There was something strangely peaceful about the sight.

Then, she paused midway through wiping the table.

"Oh..." she murmured. "I don't remember the rest of the words." There was the faintest note of distress in her voice, as though forgetting the lyrics to a lullaby were a matter of some consequence.

She lifted her gaze.

Her eyes met his.

Her expression brightened immediately.

"Oh, Loid, you're awake!"

She set aside whatever thoughts had been troubling her and walked towards him, still holding the pink cloth in one hand. "How are you feeling?"

Loid looked around.

The house seemed almost frozen in time. There was no sign of Yuri. No movement beyond the occasional stirring of the curtains. The room was quiet enough that he could hear the faint sounds of the world outside.

He looked back at Yor. "What happened?"

"You fainted earlier." She looked slightly embarrassed as she lowered her gaze, though she maintained the same polite composure. "I suppose my cooking made you feel that way. I'm sorry about that."

The memory returned in fragments: the strange-looking fish; the purple sauce; Yuri declaring it delicious; and then—nothing.

Loid felt a faint flush of embarrassment. "Oh, um... it's fine."

"Oh!" Yor suddenly remembered something. "I—I also made you some herbal tea. I've heard it helps with an upset stomach." She turned towards the kitchen with such earnestness that Loid could only watch her go.

Then she paused.

Looking back over her shoulder, she added, with a faint trace of embarrassment, “I promise, I’m much better at making tea.”

A small shiver travelled down Loid's spine. "You... really did not..." The rest of his sentence failed him.

He watched in silence as Yor poured the tea into a cup. Yor walked back towards him and offered the cup with both hands. Loid accepted it hesitantly. He stared down at the tea.

It smelled perfectly pleasant.

The tea was a clear amber-gold, catching the afternoon light as it moved gently inside the cup. A few delicate leaves and herbs floated near the surface, giving off a mild, earthy fragrance with a hint of something sweet. Steam curled upwards in thin wisps before disappearing into the air.

It looked harmless.

That, Loid thought, was probably how the food had looked before he had tasted it.

But perhaps he was being unreasonable.

Perhaps—

He glanced up.

Yor stood before him with both hands clasped together, smiling brightly. She looked almost expectant, like a waiter waiting for a tip.

Is she waiting for me to take a sip?

Loid tightened his fingers around the cup.

God, just have mercy on me right now. I really don't want to faint again.

Before he could bring himself to drink, Yor glanced towards the patio doors. "Oh. We still have one part of the house left to explore."

Loid looked at her. "Which one?"

"The garden." She replied.

Yor walked towards the patio doors and opened them. A cool breath of air swept into the room, carrying the scent of leaves and damp earth with it. The curtains stirred behind them.

Loid quietly placed the tea on the table. Then he stood and followed her outside.

The change in the air was immediate.

The sunlight seemed softer here, settling lightly against his skin. Perhaps, it was the breeze. Perhaps, the shade of the surrounding greenery made the warmth feel gentler than it really was. Either way, Loid found himself lingering for a moment at the threshold, taking in the quiet garden before him.

It was not a perfect garden.

There were signs of neglect in places: a few broken sticks lay scattered across the ground, dry leaves had gathered beneath the plants, and the soil was uneven in parts. The traces of the war had not spared this place entirely.

Yet, there was still something undeniably alive about it.

Greenery spread freely across the garden, flowers grew wherever they had managed to take root, and beyond it the land stretched towards the scattered houses in the distance. There was no proper fence separating the property from the surrounding area, leaving the view almost completely open.

Yor stepped outside and gently closed the patio doors behind them. She stood beside him, looking out at the same view.

"I'm not the best gardener," she admitted softly. "So, I haven't been able to take care of it as well as I should." Her gaze fell towards the ground. "There used to be a man who came to our house and tended to it for us. But after the war..." She paused, then gave a small, understanding smile. "For obvious reasons, he stopped coming."

Loid listened.

His gaze remained fixed upon the horizon.

"You're lucky," he murmured.

Yor looked towards him.

"I lived in the middle of my town, where everything was much more crowded. There were buildings everywhere." He paused, searching for the right words. "I didn't have a garden. Or anywhere I could invite my friends to play."

The admission came more easily than he expected. He looked out across the greenery again. "My room wasn't very exciting either."

For some reason, saying it aloud felt strangely relieving, like exhaling after having held his breath for a little too long.

...

Loid's eyes drifted across the garden and settled on Yuri, who was crouched beneath one of the trees, intently searching through the soil.

Loid stared at him. "...What is he doing?"

"Oh, he's probably looking for some of those plants or insects in his books," Yor said cheerfully with complete sincerity. "Yuri loves learning. Let me show you one of his books." She turned and hurried back into the house. "Uh... now where did Yuri keep his book?" Her voice drifted faintly from inside.

Loid remained where he was, watching the boy. He probably ought to leave him alone. Keeping his distance seemed the sensible choice, particularly after the way Yuri had been watching him all afternoon. There was no reason to provoke him any further.

And yet, some stubborn part of his sixteen-year-old mind insisted that he ought to make an effort.

Loid took a few steps towards him. He opened his mouth, intending to say something, when a sharp crack came from above.

Loid's eyes snapped upwards. One of the heavier branches above them had split from the tree. It groaned beneath its own weight, beginning to give way.

There was no time to think.

Loid reached forward, caught Yuri by the shoulder and pulled him backwards.

"Hey—" Yuri protested. "What are you—"

The branch came down with a heavy thud, landing precisely where Yuri had been crouching moments before.

Silence followed.

Loid and Yuri stared at the fallen branch. Loid's hands were still resting on the boy's shoulders. For a moment, neither of them moved.

Yuri looked up at him, "You saved me."

Loid hesitated, "Um... I did."

That simple admission was all it took, and something shifted behind Yuri's eyes. He looked at Loid again, suddenly suspicious. Why did he do that? The answer came to him with startling certainty. Does he like Sister? Yuri's eyes widened and he gasped softly. Is he trying to use me to show Sister what a great guy he is?

A faint blush crept across his cheeks. His jaw tightened. His little hands curled into fists. Absolutely not. There was no way he was going to allow that. Sister doesn't deserve him. Sister's smile is mine!

Loid stared at the boy. Yuri's face had gone strangely red, and his entire body appeared to have stiffened. To Loid, he looked rather like a tiny bomb that had somehow acquired the ability to glare.

Is he seriously angry because I saved him from getting a concussion?

Before Loid could decide whether to ask, Yor reappeared from the house, Yuri's book in her hands. She slowed when she noticed the silence between them. "Oh, is everything alright?"

"I spotted a branch earlier," Loid explained. "It looked as though it was about to fall, so I simply pulled him out of the way."

Yor's expression changed at once.

She set the book down on the nearby table and kneeled beside Yuri, gently taking his face between her hands as she examined him. "Oh, Yuri, are you all right?" Her eyes moved over his face, searching for any sign of injury. "Why are you all red?" Her hands slipped down to his arms as she continued checking him.

Only then did Yuri seem to realise how flushed he had become, and the thought of Yor noticing it made the heat in his face worse. "Of—of course, Sister. I..." He paused for a moment. His eyes flickered towards Loid, and then back towards Yor. "I just want to play with my toys!" He abruptly turned and ran towards the house. He reached the patio doors and struggled with the handle for several frantic seconds before finally managing to open them.

That Loit—Loid, whatever his name is. He disappeared inside. I won't let you embarrass me in front of sister again.

Yor and Loid remained in the garden, watching him vanish through the doorway.

Neither of them said anything.

Yor reached down for the book she had left behind and picked it up from the grass. She brushed a few leaves from its cover before looking towards the doorway where Yuri had disappeared. "I'm sorry about him," she said, a little sheepishly. "He just really loves his toys."

There was such sincerity in the way she said it that Loid could only give a small, nervous laugh. "That's completely fine. He's a child, after all." I think it's best if I keep my distance from him. He kept the smile. He has clearly made up his mind that he despises me.

Yor's expression softened. She lowered her eyes to the book in her hands, her fingers tightening slightly around its cover. "I'm sorry if I haven't been a very good host."

The words caught Loid by surprise.

Yor kept her eyes lowered, unable to bring herself to look at him, studying the grass rather than meeting his gaze. She continued, her voice quieter now. "I'm not really the best host. I'm not very good at these... household things." A pause. "Hosting guests, preparing meals, keeping everything just right..." She gave a small, almost embarrassed smile. "I'm not quite sure I'm very good at any of it."

There was no self-pity in her voice. If anything, she sounded as though she were simply stating an ordinary fact she had long since accepted.

Still, something about the words sat uneasily in Loid's chest.

"You're only fifteen, Yor." The gentleness in his voice came without thought. He looked at her for a moment before continuing. "You're raising yourself and your brother in the middle of a war. I don't think you're supposed to have everything figured out."

Yor slowly lifted her eyes.

Loid gave a small shrug, almost embarrassed by his own sincerity. "Allow yourself to be a little girl, too."

For a moment, she simply looked at him.

Then her shoulders seemed to loosen and a small smile touched her lips. It was not quite the bright smile she had worn earlier while showing him around the house. This one was quieter, almost relieved.

Loid looked away, suddenly conscious of how plainly the words had come from him. "Actually..." He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly unsure of where to put his hands. "I never properly thanked you."

Yor blinked.

"If you'd never found me that day..." He paused, searching for the words. "I don't think things would have turned out quite the way they have."

Yor's eyes softened. Her fingers curled a little more tightly around the book. "You're welcome, Loid."

For a little while, neither of them spoke.

The breeze moved gently through the garden, lifting the hem of Yor's dress and brushing it against her calves. Somewhere beyond the trees, a bird called once before the quiet settled over the garden again.

It was peaceful.

Then—

"Oh, Sister! This tea is amazing!"

Yuri's voice rang out from inside the house.

Loid's eyebrows lifted.

A moment later came a rather unpleasant sound from indoors.

"Yuri!" Yor cried, suddenly horrified. "That tea is for Loid! Don't drink that!" She hurried towards the house.

Loid remained where he was for a moment, watching her disappear through the patio doors. He glanced towards the garden again. Then towards the house. A faint, helpless smile found its way onto his face. Perhaps, he thought, there was no such thing as a quiet afternoon in the Briar household.

Time seemed to fly by once again.

Where once people had huddled in the shelter of their homes, listening for footsteps that never seemed quite far enough away, they now walked beneath the open sky with unhurried steps. The streets, once emptied at dusk, slowly filled with voices again, and people had begun to forget the instinct to look over their shoulders.

An eagle flew high above the forest, its sharp whistle carrying faintly through the afternoon air. The sun continued its quiet work, illuminating the land below.

Yor and Loid sat beneath a tree on a mound near the entrance to her town. Below them stretched the path connecting the two towns, along which people travelled in either direction. The tree offered enough shade without taking away from the warmth of the afternoon light.

The sound of their chuckles mingled with the breeze. They had been there since late morning, eating apples and talking about the sort of mundane things teenagers their age tended to talk about.

Loid rested his back against the trunk, his legs stretched out before him. An untouched apple lay between both his palms as he listened to Yor explain how she had come to understand the importance of apples in one's life, and how she had eventually managed to make Yuri eat them every day. She sat with her legs tucked beneath her, her wicker basket of apples resting at her side. Her own untouched apple was held gently between her palms.

"Yuri was not very fond of apples, but I still gave him one every day until he stopped complaining," Yor said, her voice sincere and soft, almost childlike.

"You forced him to eat them?" Loid asked.

"Of course not," Yor replied, her tone perfectly sincere. "I merely made it difficult for him to refuse."

She reached into her basket, took out a cloth, and began gently wiping the skin of the apple.

Loid chuckled.

Of course you did.

The thought came naturally.

His gaze drifted towards the path below them. From here, he could see almost everything, though the people were not yet so small as to resemble ants, as they might have from a higher vantage point. An old man travelling to the west picked up his hat and dipped his head politely to greet an elegant lady passing in the opposite direction. She returned the greeting with the same quiet courtesy.

A few children, struggling to keep a kite in the air, ran westward along the path. They startled a young suitress, who, in her surprise, caught hold of the arm of her suitor next to her. For a moment, neither of them seemed to know what to do. Then they both looked away in opposite directions, their faces flushed with embarrassment. Yet, neither pulled away immediately.

So... it's really over.

Loid continued to watch the scenery. His eyelids were half-lowered, his expression almost bored. The breeze stirred his fringe once more.

It had been weeks since the war had officially been declared over. For some, the end had brought relief. For others, it seemed to have left them suspended somewhere in the past, quietly mourning the things they had lost.

Loid had thought he would feel better. Happy, perhaps. He had imagined that waking in the morning might bring with it some small, unfamiliar sense of joy.

Instead, there was only the lightness in his chest—the airy relief of having survived, of being free from the war at last.

And beneath it, an emptiness he could not quite understand.

His gaze shifted towards Yor.

She was cleaning another apple with the cloth, a faint smile resting upon her lips. Her black lashes lay against her cheeks, casting soft shadows beneath her eyes. She looked almost as though she belonged to the scenery around them—quiet, calm, untroubled.

Loid looked away.

His eyes returned to the path below.

Loid shifted his position. He set the apple down on the grass beside him and placed his palms behind him, resting his weight against them as he tilted his head back towards the clear sky. For a while, neither of them said anything. The silence between them was comfortable enough, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze.

"Hey... Yor."

“Hmm?” she murmured.

A brief silence passed between them.

"Do you ever wonder what things would have been like if there had never been a war?"

"Oh."

He heard her think for a moment before a quiet hum followed.

"I think I would have gone shopping with Mama."

Loid hummed in response, his eyes remaining fixed on the sky. She was a girl, after all. The answer did not surprise him.

“Maybe I would have asked her for a doll. Or...” Yor's voice softened, and a faint chuckle escaped her. “I might have asked her to buy me a dollhouse instead.”

She paused, her fingers continuing their slow work over the apple's skin.

“And maybe...” she continued, quieter now, “Yuri would have made some friends.”

None of her answers were particularly surprising. Loid had already begun forming his own response in case she turned the question back on him. Perhaps I would have asked my father for a military uniform. Or maybe a toy gun.

And then he would have refused me again.

The thought almost made him smile.

Almost.

Another silence settled between them, though this one felt different from before. Loid remained still, watching the clouds drift lazily across the blue, until Yor's voice broke through the quiet.

“But wishing won't change it.”

The words were simple enough, yet they made Loid turn his head towards her. Yor was still cleaning the apple, her posture hardly changed, but there was something quieter about her now. Not sadness, exactly. Just a stillness that had not been there before.

She looked towards the path below them, the apple resting loosely in her palms as they lay in her lap. “I think I'd rather think about what we can do now."

Loid stared at her.

For a moment, he nearly asked why. The question reached his lips before he stopped himself, and looked away.

Of course.

The war had taken her parents from her. It had done the same to countless others. What else was there for her to do but accept what could not be changed and continue forwards?'

Perhaps that was what troubled him.

Everyone seemed to have found their own way of carrying the past. Some resented the war for what it had taken from them. Others accepted its end quietly and tried to move on. Yor, it seemed, had chosen the latter.

Loid found himself belonging to neither.

He was somewhere else entirely.

Somewhere that made him feel bitter.

And, if he was being honest, slightly selfish.

Because he was glad the war had brought him here.

Not because of the war itself.

It was because...

No.

I-I... shouldn't...

The war—

His thoughts faltered.

He did not like the way the realisation settled inside him. He liked even less that, for the first time in weeks, the emptiness in his chest seemed a little lighter.

“Oh, I perhaps would have become a princess,” she added, the thought returning to her.

Her little chuckle brought him back to the present.

Loid blinked and turned towards her. “A princess?”

“Yes.” Her cheeks grew a little pink as she looked down at the apple in her hands. “Princesses always wore pretty dresses. Perhaps… I would have bought one with Mama.”

Loid’s eyes dropped to her red dress, the same one she had worn on the day they met. I suppose the way I like playing army, she likes playing princess.

“What about you?” Yor asked, a bright smile appearing on her lips.

Her question made him look at her properly.

“Do you want to be something when you grow up?”

Loid opened his mouth, but no answer came immediately.

After a moment, he relaxed, his eyes becoming half-lidded once more as he looked back down at the path. His back rested against the tree trunk as he slowly turned the apple between his palms.

“I... did,” he admitted quietly. “A soldier.”

Yor hummed softly. The little sound encouraged him to continue without pressing him.

“I always wanted to protect Westalis from... enemies.”

He hesitated.

He couldn't bring himself to say Ostania, not while he was sitting beside someone from there—someone who was nothing like the people he had once imagined.

His fingers shifted against the apple's smooth skin.

“I used to think that I could...” His eyes drifted towards a group of older boys fooling around as they walked towards his town. Their laughter carried faintly through the trees. “But I guess I was stupid for thinking I could.”

There it was.

His chest felt lighter once again.

Guilt.

That was what had occupied the emptiness in his chest for all those weeks since he had heard the news. The guilt of thinking he was someone he wasn't. The guilt of believing he could do something when he couldn't. The guilt of wishing to become someone he thought could protect people.

It was the guilt of wishing to become someone who had... harmed so many people.

The trees rustled nearby, their leaves whispering overhead. Loid's grip on the apple tightened for a moment before he forced his fingers to relax.

“I... don't think you were stupid.”

Yor's voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

Loid glanced at her.

She was still looking down at the apple in her hands, too shy to meet his eyes. She wasn't sure whether she ought to say anything more, but somehow, she wanted him to hear it.

“Soldiers are supposed to protect their country,” she continued, gently brushing her palm over the apple's skin. “Papa used to say that soldiers are heroes to their own people... even if the other side thinks they're bad.”

She paused, gathering her thoughts.

“Papa also said my grandpa was a soldier. He said he fought for the country, and then he came home when he was old.” There was a faint warmth in her voice. “But... I don't think everything they do is their fault. They're told what to do by their seniors and the people above them.” A small smile touched her lips. “I think wanting to be a soldier is a good thing. And if you choose to become one one day...”

She finally lifted her gaze towards him.

“I think you'd make a lovely soldier.”

Loid remained silent.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The only sounds were the rustling leaves above them and the distant footsteps of people passing along the road.

“You really think that?” he eventually asked.

“Yes,” Yor replied simply.

Loid looked down at the apple again, his thumb tracing over a small mark in its skin.

There was something comforting in what she had said. Something he hadn't realised he needed to hear.

...

Loid seemed to catch on to the silence that had settled between them. An embarrassed chuckle escaped him as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I must have made the atmosphere awkward, hadn’t I?”

Yor gave a small laugh, lifting a hand to cover her lips for a moment.

“Not at all.”

She turned back towards the basket and carefully placed her apple among the others, adjusting it until it nestled neatly beside its companions. It was only then, as she straightened, that something at the edge of her vision caught her attention: three familiar figures were making their way along the path below.

Yor looked up.

Her eyes widened in recognition, and her face immediately brightened.

“Camilla! Sharon! Millie!”

The sudden exclamation caught Loid off guard. He turned towards her just in time to see Yor rise to her feet and hurry down the gentle slope of the mound, her steps quick and light.

At the sound of her name, Camilla stopped and turned around. Sharon and Millie, who had been walking just behind her, halted as well, both looking around in mild confusion before their eyes settled upon the girl approaching them.

“Yor?” Camilla raised an eyebrow as Yor reached them. “What were you doing all the way up there?”

Yor stopped at the edge of the path, barely seeming to notice that she had just run down the mound. “Oh! I was just eating some apples with a friend.” She gave a light, almost sheepish chuckle.

She failed entirely to notice the faint concern that crossed her friends’ faces.

“Really?” Camilla asked, looking her up and down. “You look like you’ve been playing hide-and-seek in the bushes rather than eating apples with a friend.”

Yor blinked.

“Your hair’s a mess.”

Her hand flew instinctively to one of her braids. Only then did she feel the loose strands that had escaped their neat arrangement. Her fingers brushed through them and caught on something. A small twig was tangled amongst the dark strands.

Yor froze.

“You really should stop climbing trees,” Sharon added. Her tone was blunt, though never unkind. Of the three, Sharon was always the calmest and most direct, but there was never any malice behind her words.

“Yeah!” Millie chimed in from behind them. “The last time, we had to ask the uncles to help you climb down from one.”

A small, distressed sound escaped Yor.

She hurriedly tried to smooth her braid, suddenly painfully aware of every little imperfection. The loose strands. The twig. The slight crease in her dress. The faint smudge of dirt along her shoes. I must have caught some of it when I was trying to climb that tree earlier. I was in such a hurry to meet Loid that I forgot to check.

Her fingers fussed anxiously with the braid.

Did he notice?

Camilla sighed, and with the resigned patience of a sister tending to another one who had once again managed to get herself into trouble, she reached forward and plucked the offending twig from Yor’s hair. “What am I going to do with you?”

Yor straightened at once, attempting to compose herself. She clasped her hands together and looked between the three girls. “What were you three doing?”

Her voice was quieter now.

“We went shopping!” Millie announced brightly. She lifted the bags hanging from her hands, displaying them with unmistakable pride. “The town is hosting a festival for everyone who survived, and Camilla wanted to see how Westalians dress up.”

“Don’t make it sound like that,” Camilla muttered. Despite her protest, the way she held the shopping bags betrayed how much she had enjoyed herself. “I’ll always prefer our country’s fashion, naturally,” she continued, lifting her chin with theatrical dignity, “but I must admit, the Westalians know how to make a dress.” She gave the last sentence an exaggerated accent and dramatic flourish.

Millie visibly cringed.

Yor, meanwhile, let out a quiet giggle.

Sharon sighed.

“It is not that sort of festival. People are still grieving. It is simply a chance for everyone to step outside of it for a little while.” Sharon said.

Yor nodded slowly, “I see.”

“We’ll be helping with the decorations before heading to Camilla’s house to get ready,” Millie said brightly. “Don’t worry, Camilla made sure to buy you a pretty red dress, and Sharon chose the jewellery.”

“I helped with the dress,” Millie added proudly.

“You interfered with the dress,” Camilla corrected.

“I gave advice!”

“Your advice was terrible.”

Millie gasped, looking personally offended. “It was not!”

Sharon sighed. “I’m beginning to regret being involved in this conversation.”

Yor smiled as warmth bloomed gently in her chest as she clasped her hands together. “Thank you…” Her voice softened. “You three didn’t have to.”

Camilla’s expression softened for only a moment before her eyes drifted down towards Yor’s dress. She tilted her head. “Hey, Yor. Isn’t this one of your nicest dresses? The one you always keep tucked away in your wardrobe?”

Yor stiffened.

Her gaze dropped to the dress, and she gently pinched the fabric between her fingers. “Yes…”

“I’ve only ever seen you wear it for events,” Sharon added. Her eyes travelled thoughtfully over the familiar details of the dress. “Or when guests came over. And school functions.”

Camilla’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’ve been wearing it quite a lot lately…” A pause. Then the corner of her mouth curled upwards. “Is it because of that Westalian boy you’ve been spending time with?”

A soft blush immediately spread across Yor’s cheeks. “Camilla…”

The warning was barely more than a whisper.

Sharon and Millie, however, had already stepped closer, their curiosity instantly piqued.

“Ohh~” Millie drew out the sound, her eyes sparkling. “Is he handsome?”

Yor’s fingers stopped moving. “I—” The rest of the sentence seemed to disappear somewhere between one breath and the next.

Her gaze fell to the ground.

“No wonder you asked me about make-up the other day,” Sharon remarked.

Yor's cheeks grew warmer.

“You should invite him to the festival as your guest,” Millie said with a delighted giggle.

Yor hesitated. “Should I?”

“It’s worth a try,” Sharon said. “He is your friend, after all.”

Yor said nothing; she merely fidgeted with her fingers.

Camilla chuckled and turned towards the path, “Just make sure you don’t get yourself stuck in another tree looking for a particularly pretty apple for your friend,” Camilla called over her shoulder, "and change your shoes before you come to my house. Mum’s just had the carpets cleaned.”

“I-I will.” Yor’s reply came with surprising determination.

Camilla smiled faintly before continuing on her way. Millie hurried after her, giggling under her breath, while Sharon followed with a small wave in Yor’s direction.

“See you later, Yor.”

“Bye!”

Yor lifted her hand in farewell, “Goodbye.”

She remained where she was for a moment, watching the three girls disappear further down the path.

The wind stirred her fringe, brushing loose strands of hair against her cheeks. It caught the ends of her braids and carried them gently behind her. Around her, the sounds of the town continued as they always did—distant voices, footsteps, the rustle of leaves—but somehow they seemed to fade into the background.

Invite him as a guest…

The thought lingered.

For some reason, it no longer seemed quite so frightening.

Yor lowered her hand and turned towards the top of the mound.

Loid remained where Yor had left him.

He watched Yor with her friends.

He could not make out what they were saying from where he sat, but he could follow the conversation well enough in their gestures—the turn of a shoulder, the movement of hands, the sudden brightness of a smile.

A quiet, rather varied little group, he noted, his gaze lingering upon the four girls. Different in temperament, perhaps, and yet quite comfortable with one another.

Eventually, the three girls parted, and Yor lingered for a moment after the others had gone.

Then, she turned towards him.

Loid watched her approach.

There was something almost subtle in the way she carried herself now. Her steps were measured. Her gaze rested on him for a moment before lowering again, and her hands came together loosely before her, fingers folding one over the other.

It was an unfamiliar sort of composure; not quite natural, but carefully attempted.

A small smile touched her lips.

Loid said nothing.

He watched her come closer.

Then—

She stopped.

For a moment, she simply stood there.

Then she straightened her back, smoothed one hand over the front of her dress as though ensuring that every crease was in its proper place, and lifted her chin by the smallest degree.

“Loid Forger.”

The name came softly, almost ceremoniously.

Yor kept her eyes lowered.

“There is a festival tonight,” she said. “It is being held for those who survived the war.”

Her fingers remained neatly folded.

“It is not meant to make us forget what happened.” She paused, not from uncertainty, but as though choosing the words with care. “Rather…” The breeze stirred the hem of her dress. “I think it is meant to remind us that there are still things worth remembering besides the sorrow.”

She looked up then, only briefly. “If you have no other plans…”

A faint warmth had risen into her cheeks.

She unfolded one hand and extended it towards him, palm turned slightly upwards. “Would you allow me to accompany you?” The words came with such careful politeness that they might have belonged to someone much older.

There was another small pause.

Yor drew herself a little straighter. “Or, perhaps more properly…” With deliberate grace, she lowered herself into a small bow. “May I invite you to attend the festival as my guest?”

For a moment, Loid only looked at her.

The gesture was strangely familiar. It was not because he had seen it often, but because he had seen enough of it to understand what she was trying to imitate: the careful elegance of women who knew exactly how to extend an invitation without making it seem like a request.

However...

That was not what made the gesture so familiar.

The corners of Loid’s mouth softened.

“You make it sound as though I would be foolish to refuse.”

He rose from where he sat and stepped towards her.

He reached for her offered hand, accepting it with the same quiet formality with which she had offered it, but rather than taking it in the ordinary fashion, he slipped his own hand beneath hers, letting her delicate fingers rest against his palm. His other hand came gently over the back of it, warm and steady.

Her hand disappeared between his.

Yor looked up.

Whatever she had expected, it had not quite been that.

Loid met her eyes. His expression was calm, almost quietly amused, but there was something gentler beneath it now.

“I would be honoured to attend the festival as your guest, Yor Briar.”

Yor smiled, and Loid returned it. For once, neither of them seemed in any hurry to leave.

THE END