When the day finally folded, sunlight still spilled over the earth like warm silk. Spring lingered like a shy blossom, the sun already summer-soft, its gold steeping hearts like a cup of sweet tea.

After classes at Rakuyoku High School, some students streamed home like swallows to their eaves, others drifted toward clubs like fish schooling into shade. As a Student Council member, Mizuki should’ve shown her face after vanishing so long, but President Asagi Renka waved it off like a gentle breeze, telling her to rest well.

With nothing on her plate, Mizuki could only wander with friends like petals carried by a river—while bracing for the oncoming questions like a storm rolling over the hills.

“Mizuki!”

“I’m sorry, Mai. I’m sorry—please, forgive me, okay?” Her voice trembled like a kite tugged by wind.

Mizuki pressed her palms together, head bowed, like a child caught with muddy hands. With a face like porcelain and eyes like rain, any anger should melt like snow—sadly, Mai’s heart was iron today.

“No way! You’ve got nerve. You took two whole weeks off, and didn’t tell me ahead of time! You vanished like mist, not even a single call. Am I still your friend?” Her words snapped like dry twigs.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong...” Her voice curled like smoke.

“Where did you go that you couldn’t even make a call?” Mai’s gaze burned like noon sun.

“I’m really sorry...” The apology fell like wilted petals.

“Alright, Mai-chan, don’t blame Mizuki-chan. She knows she messed up.” Mizuki (the friend) slid in like a hand smoothing ripples.

It was after school—same corner, same cluster of girls, and at last their lost star returned to orbit. Honestly, when Mai saw Mizuki back in class, she pinched herself like waking from a dream.

The girl had been gone a full fourteen days—like a calendar stripped bare.

“I’m curious,” Yan Er sighed, breath like a cool breeze. “Which country did you two visit, and what accident kept you away so long?” Her eyes slid toward Sham, who wore the look of a scolded kitten.

“Right, Sham-chan still hasn’t told me. Where did you go that took so long?” Mizuki (the friend) leaned in like a cat on a windowsill.

“Mizuki, I...” Sham’s voice frayed like old cloth.

“Too much. Not even one reply. I sent hundreds of emails—did you just ignore me?” Her words pricked like hail.

“I’m sorry...” Sham’s apology puddled like rainwater.

Sham mimicked Mizuki’s pose, the same hands pressed like prayer. If she were a puppy, her ears would’ve drooped like wilted leaves.

“In short... you’re treating today. No excuses!” x2 Their voices chimed like twin bells.

“Yes!” x2 The answer leapt like startled birds.

They had no room to refuse; guilt weighed like a wet cloak, and friends choosing not to dig deeper felt like a mercy rain.

Mizuki knew. She wouldn’t tell them where she’d gone. These days she’d walked the edge of life like a tightrope over a ravine, fighting in a place where the sky burned and the earth bled. Careless, and she could’ve died like a candle in wind. Coming back alive felt like a lucky coin pulled from ash.

Her friends must’ve noticed she and Sham didn’t want to speak, so they didn’t press; they shifted the mood like turning a lantern. That was friendship—the real kind, the kind that shelters you like a pine in snow.

Warmth rose in Mizuki’s chest like spring water. War had carved many paths through her; she wasn’t the little girl anymore. She belonged to the Underworld now, a shadowed road paved with iron. She didn’t know how much blood stained her hands—only that life would never wash out the first debt. And the one who stood beside her then, like a moon guiding tide, she’d never forget.

Her first love still lived as a crush, a bud that hadn’t opened. Why did she love that girl? She couldn’t say—only that Night Phantom-chan was gentle like dusk. Since Mizuki stepped into the Underworld, Night Phantom-chan had looked after her like a lantern in fog. On the battlefield, she shielded her, sometimes by plan, sometimes like instinct. When Mizuki was lost, or afraid, or spiraling like a moth toward flame, Night Phantom-chan was there. The first time blood touched Mizuki’s fingers, Night Phantom-chan was there. When Mizuki fought, she was there—like a shadow stitched to her heels.

Night Phantom-chan had once told her, If you don’t get used to it, you can quit. It was wind spoken to stone—impossible. Mizuki already belonged to the battlefield; leaving wasn’t an option. The words were meant to soothe, like a blanket pulled over a trembling child. When Mizuki understood, the warmth flooded her like sunrise. No words could hold it.

She liked Night Phantom-chan. Simple as breathing. She just felt lonely now, like a room without lamps, because she couldn’t see her.

“Mizuki, Mizuki? Hey? Spacing out?” Mai’s voice tapped like a spoon on porcelain.

“Oh? Oh—sorry. So, where do you all want to go?” Mizuki pushed the mood forward like opening a window. Last night at home had been dramatic as thunder; Mom and Sis rushed her like waves, fussing, their concern a whirlwind that left her flushed. Embarrassing—yes—but their love warmed her like coals. Today’s calmer tide felt like a blessing.

“Hey, Mizuki, you and Sham-chan went traveling. Don’t tell me you didn’t bring us any souvenirs?” Mai’s smile gleamed like a blade.

“Uh, Yan Er... well...” Her voice fluttered like a moth.

“Right, Mizuki—nothing to show?” The question slid in like a knife wrapped in silk.

“Mizuki-chan... and Sham-chan, don’t even think about slipping away.” The warning perched like a crow.

“Uuu, Mizuki, save me...” Sham clutched at her sleeve like a vine.

As everyone closed in like tide around a rock, Mizuki laughed dryly, sweat beading like dew. She had no idea how to wriggle free.

Truth was, the place she’d gone was a battlefield—guns barking like wolves, air thick with powder like bitter smoke, the ground stinking of iron like cut rain. Where do you find souvenirs in a graveyard?

She did have guns and blades within arm’s reach back at the base—an endless armory like a forest of steel. The weapons were free to take, even world-famous ones, stockpiled for Witches and their war. But she couldn’t bring any back. That would earn her a polite trip to the police station like tea with interrogators.

“Um... not that I don’t have anything...” Her voice thinned like winter sunlight.

“That’s great! Come on, show us—what is it? I’m so excited~” Mai’s eyes sparkled like starry sky.

Mizuki’s confidence shrank like a puddle in sun. With no way out, she reached into her pocket like a thief caught and opened her palm.

There lay a handful of copper cylinders, tips slightly pointed, each about two finger-lengths—spent shells glinting like dried amber.

She hadn’t been able to buy anything in that cursed place, so she’d settled for what the earth offered—empty shells scooped like seashells off a blasted shore.

“What... is this?” Mai’s brow arched like a bow.

“Um, it’s...” The answer stuck like gum.

“Pff—hahahahahaha!!!” Sham burst, clutching her belly like a drum, laughing till tears pricked like rain. It looked like she’d been holding it in for days.

“Sham-chan, what’s wrong?” Mizuki (the friend) tilted her head like a curious sparrow.

“Mizuki, you’re... you’re too funny. You actually... brought back shell casings... I can’t—hahaha!” Her laughter ricocheted like firecrackers.

Mizuki’s cheeks flared red like tomatoes under noon sun, heat rising till even smoke felt possible.

“Shells? Mizuki, just where did you go...” Mai’s voice cooled like shade.

“Exactly. The fact you could even get these...” Yan Er’s gaze slid like a blade’s edge.

Mai and Yan Er looked at Mizuki—who clearly wished she could crawl into a hole like a fox. Her embarrassment pooled like ink. She had no other choice; this was the only strange thing she could bring.

“Forget it. They’ll make a decent craft piece.” Mai’s tone softened like melted wax.

“True.” Yan Er nodded like a reed.

“Mizuki-chan, your gift is unique—I like it. So, um, don’t keep your head down...” Mizuki (the friend) offered the words like a hand.

Thankfully, they gave her a staircase down like a rope ladder. Unlike Sham, who laughed without mercy like a summer storm, Mizuki could only bow lower, too shy to lift her face.

It had been so long since she’d tasted this kind of life. The battlefield had been a constant grindstone, rest whittled down like crumbs. Back in her world, among her friends, everything felt unreal, like waking from a dream you can still touch.

After the baptism of war, she could never return to the old Mizuki. She was changing like iron hardened in flame. Watching them play, joke, and chatter like sparrows in a garden, Mizuki’s resolve set like stone. She would protect this world where they laughed.

“Eh, isn’t that the pretty-boy?” Yan Er’s tone danced like a teasing breeze.

The nickname was odd, but Mizuki followed her gaze like a leaf following current. A boy with a face like a girl’s descended from the rooftop, yawning like a sleepy cat. His eyes watered lazily like dew, ignoring the stares blooming around him as if he walked alone through fog.

Mizuki blanked for a beat, then a smile lifted her lip like dawn. While she stared, Mai said:

“That one took a two-week leave too. No idea what he did. I asked—she didn’t go with you guys.”

“Eh... Yun-kun took leave?” Surprise flickered in Mizuki’s chest like a startled bird.

“U-um, Little Yun... she went home to pay respects—really. She told me!” Sham blurted like a kid fibbing to a teacher.

Four pairs of eyes fixed on her like spears.

“It’s true!” Sham’s voice squeaked like a mouse.

If anyone found out Yun Shi went to the battlefield with them, it would blow open like a storm.

Mizuki didn’t linger on it. She looked toward that familiar silhouette like a lighthouse. It didn’t feel like a long absence—more like the closeness had never left.

“Yun-kun, um... long time no see.” Her words drifted like a ribbon.

Yun Shi stood with his back to her, still foggy with sleep like winter morning. He yawned again.

“Yun-kun?” Mizuki called once more, and Yun Shi slowly pulled out a sheet of paper, handing it over like a quiet tide.

“What’s... this?” The paper rustled like leaves.

Student Council Membership Application was written in neat strokes—news that turned suspicion into form like ink on parchment. His “I’ll consider joining” had landed.

“Well... anyway... please take care of me.” He scratched his cheek like a shy fox, voice dropping into a boyish lower tone, awkward as a first spring bloom.

“Mm.” A faint blush slid across Mizuki’s face like peach petals, and a bright smile opened like sun on water.

From now on, she and Yun Shi were tangled fates like two threads in one weave. Since he’d agreed, there was nothing left to say. She cleared her throat like a bird testing a song.

“Um... good luck?”

“Oh, yes—let’s do our best!” His reply nodded like a willow.

“Mm... mm...” Their talk hung awkwardly like damp laundry. Yun Shi was just a bit speechless; Mizuki’s face puffed red like a boiled crab.

“Hey, Mizuki, aren’t we going?” Mai’s voice waved from a distance like a flag.

“Eh—um, Yun-kun...” Her words fluttered like a moth.

“I’m fine. I’ll report to the Student Council today. Go on.” His tone steadied like a path.

“Oh. Then... I’ll head out.” Mizuki drifted back toward the group like a leaf to its branch.

Outside the school gate, people flowed by like a river. A cluster of girls with beauty turned heads like flowers in full bloom; glances flicked over them like bees.

“Hmm?”

Suddenly, an off-campus girl spotted Mizuki, just leaving Yun Shi’s place. She halted. Her expression iced like a winter pond; then her lips flared like sunrise.

She trotted over at once, joy ringing out like bright bells as she called:

"Um, you’re Miss Mizuki, right?!"

"Huh?"

Curiosity pricked like a thorn under silk; Mizuki turned back. She saw a girl with a sunlit smile, warmth spilling like morning.

"Thunder Lady-chan?!"

Her brain blue-screened—thoughts iced over in a sudden white-out.