“Mizuki, I’ll give you time to think—let the thought settle like snow on a still roof. I hope you’ll give me an answer I can live with.”

“Of course, Mizuki. You can discuss it with your agent, Sham Einafel—steady counsel like a lantern in fog.”

Thinking of what Asagi Renka had told her, Mizuki drifted back into confusion, like a boat circling in mist. She lay in her bedroom and thought for a long time; Lian Hua’s invitation hung over her like a pale moon. She hadn’t refused, but she hadn’t agreed. She waited inside her own silence.

“What’s wrong, Mizuki? Lost in the reeds?” Elana’s voice came gentle, like warm tea.

“...Yeah, Elana. I think I need time to think.” Her heart beat soft, like wings against paper.

“Of course. It’s a big thing—storm-sized. Time is only fair. But I’ll still say this: better not to agree.” Her warning fell like a cold drizzle.

“Why?” The single word was a pebble dropped in a pond.

“It’s simple. If you agree, you stand against the Church—steel against a bell. You gained power through the Church; there’s a debt there, even if they used you more than they blessed you.” Her tone was steady, like a priest tapping a staff.

“I...know. But if I don’t agree, what happens to my world?” Her fear rose like smoke.

“...That I can’t promise. The Underworld is due for upheaval—earth loosening under roots. The Outer World will feel it, as trees feel wind.” Her voice thinned, like the end of a song.

“That’s why I hesitate.” The words fell like slow rain.

Mizuki weighed everything from her own ground. She wanted to guard her world, the one with friends and comrades, as quiet as a garden at dusk. She had sworn to protect her everyday life—rice steam, warm light—and she couldn’t allow anyone to break it like glass.

But to stand against the Underworld, she didn’t have that much strength. If she didn’t stand against it, she couldn’t protect her world. The dark world was a field of constant conflict—sparrows scattering before hawks. To guard one’s land, any enemy could be named without surprise.

Mizuki turned on her pillow and found no answer, like a moon searching for a path among clouds. Mostly, she wondered if she should chase someone’s footsteps, a trail like dew along stone.

“Mizuki, open the door.” Her sister’s knock came like knuckles on wood in winter.

The knock pulled Mizuki back from her thoughts, like a bell through fog. She rose, crossed the floor, and opened the door.

“I’m coming. What is it, Sis?” Her voice was small, like a flute note.

“Hey, I have to have a reason to come? You clueless girl.” Her finger flicked down like a twig tapping a forehead.

“Ow... you don’t have to thump me.” Mizuki rubbed her head like a cat smoothing fur.

“Hmph. What are you doing holed up in here? Dinner’s ready—steam rising, bowls waiting.”

“Okay...” The word slipped like a leaf.

“Don’t dawdle. Let’s go.” Her impatience snapped like a fan.

“Uh, Sis...” The call wavered like a kite string.

Seeing Mako turn to leave, Mizuki called to her on instinct, like a hand catching a sleeve. She regretted it, but the words were out, arrows in flight; she could only brace and follow through.

“What is it, little sister?” Her tone softened like cloth.

“It’s like this, Sis. If you have something you want to protect, what do you do?” The question stood like a gate.

“What kind of strange question is that?” Her brow lifted like a ridge.

“Answer seriously. I’m serious. For example... me and Mom. Do you want to protect us?” Mizuki’s eyes held steady, like calm water.

“Of course.” Mako spoke without a hitch, like a blade drawn clean.

“Then, if someone threatens what you want to protect, what do you do?” The path narrowed like a mountain pass.

“Fight them. How could I tolerate anyone threatening my family?” Her words landed like stones.

“But what if the other side is strong?” Fear rustled like dry leaves.

“Be stronger than they are. Figure out the rest later. If you decided, you do it.” She spoke with a fire that burned like pine.

Mako’s honesty rang true, each word a heartbeat. Her words struck Mizuki’s heart like a drum, steady and firm.

No surprise they were sisters; their thoughts met like two streams. Yes—Mako and Mizuki both wanted, from the root, to guard what they cherished.

The difference was the path. Mako thought simply, like a straight road. Mizuki thought complexly, because she’d known the dark—blood’s metallic taste—and stood apart from Mako at the core. If it had been the old Mizuki, she might have chosen her sister’s answer. Now, she could only move with caution, like a fox in snow.

“If I just get stronger... can I protect them?” She whispered, like a candle under cupped hands. In her mind a light glowed, revealing a mouth of a cave.

Far off in a small bungalow, in Yun Shi’s room, she sat at the bed’s edge and towel-dried her freshly washed hair. Water beaded where the towel passed, falling like dew and giving her a quiet beauty.

Today had been unlucky for Yun Shi. She’d tried to help Maya Hanazaka out of kindness, but got disliked in return. Her heart smarted like a paper cut. Still, it was her own doing; if Maya wouldn’t accept it, she had no way through that wall.

She’d done something stupid, like stepping onto thin ice.

She had hated seeing how Maya looked, so she charged in like a fool, grabbed Maya’s hand, and pulled her away. The old her wouldn’t have done that. Why had she been so out of character today?

Maybe the idiot Mizuki had infected her, like laughter spreading in a crowd.

The more she thought it, the more it fit. Yun Shi flushed with embarrassment, like cherry petals caught in wind. Lately, she’d been stuck to Mizuki like two magnets.

Suddenly, her phone rang on the bed table, a chirp like a sparrow. Yun Shi put down the dryer, took the phone, and checked the contact.

Unexpected. Miyuki Kiseki.

She picked up the call and lowered her voice, cool as shade. “Calling this late—what is it, Miyuki Kiseki?”

“Good evening, Yun. I have something. I don’t know if I should bother you...” Mizuki’s voice trembled like a string.

On the other end, Mizuki sounded nervous, like rain waiting to fall. She seemed to want advice. Yun Shi felt a stab of annoyance, like a thorn—why did this girl always turn into a shy bride around her? What was that about?

“You shouldn’t bother me. I’m hanging up.” Her words were a blade’s flat.

Yun Shi scowled. Was she really that scary? Recently, Mizuki treated her like she was a future husband—nonsense—eyes wide, steps small.

“No, no, don’t hang up! I have something to say!” Panic fluttered like a moth.

“It’s late. I’m going to sleep.” Sleep pulled like a blanket.

“Wait, Yun!” The plea snapped like a twig.

“That’s that...” Her tone moved to end, like a door closing.

“Listen to me. Don’t you dare hang up!” The shout cracked like thunder in a clear sky.

Yun Shi’s lips had just curved, ready to tease by dropping the call, when Mizuki’s voice suddenly surged. It carried command, like a banner in wind—almost like a dignified husband whose words brook no refusal: get downstairs. No ground to resist.

Something felt off, but whatever—call it that and move on. The point was the force.

That sudden aura made Yun Shi shiver, like a cat hearing a dog. She didn’t dare push back. How could that idiot sound so strong? She was a weakling most days; why did her voice carry like iron?

Right. She’s the protagonist. And I’m just a supporting role.

With plot armor, even great foes step back like waves.

“Okay, fine. Say it.” Yun Shi steadied her tone, smooth as glass.

“It’s like this, Yun. I want to ask you something.” Mizuki pressed on, urgency like a runner’s breath. The question felt too important to fence with politeness.

“If—just if—you had a goal, what would you do?” Her words hung like a lantern in night.

“A goal? I don’t have one.” Yun’s reply was upfront, a clear sky.

“I mean if. Say you wanted to catch up to someone’s footsteps—would you change yourself?” Mizuki’s voice leaned forward, like a sprout seeking sun.

“You’re not making sense.” Yun’s patience thinned, like a wick.

“Uh... put it this way. If you had a girl you liked, would you chase her?” The question reddened her cheeks, like plum blossoms.

“...Me? Probably not.” Yun spoke plainly, a straight beam.

She didn’t like courting. She wasn’t good at grinding for affection—clumsy hands at a delicate craft. In a past life she’d tried plenty; girls accepted, but she felt nothing—a cup without fragrance. No love, no spark. After a long while, she hadn’t had a single real relationship. She’d walked away from that field.

“In short. If your crush is high above you—status, power, two different mountains—would you change yourself, chase her, and surpass her?” Mizuki’s breath hitched, like wind over steps.

“What a weird question. I’d say no.” Yun’s tone was dry, like winter grass.

“I see...” Mizuki’s disappointment dimmed like a lantern low on oil. She’d hoped for the answer her heart wanted.

If Yun said no, did she need to grind herself forward for that person?

“But—if I were the one being chased, I’d probably look forward to it.” Yun added, a spark flicking like a firefly.

“Eh...” Surprise rose like steam.

“Yeah. I don’t like doing that ‘catch up to so-and-so’ nonsense—time-hungry, energy-hungry. But if some idiot actually does it, I’d find it fun. I’d watch to see how far they go. If they really pull it off, idiot or not, they earn my respect. If they quit halfway, I despise it—couldn’t do it, yet still posturing. Idiot.” Her words cut clean, like a frost line.

Listening, Mizuki felt something click. Her gaze brightened like dawn breaking.

If she chases, it’ll hurt—blisters, nights like stone. You could quit at any time. But if you quit, people will look down on you like crows on a scarecrow. Once you step onto that path, there’s no turning back; you run toward the finish.

Yun was right—this world is harsh, hills sharp underfoot. Only strength wins the harvest. If you’re weak, then run until you aren’t, for that person, to be stronger than her, for...

All for her.

“Anyway, why are you asking something this bizarre?” Yun frowned, a shadow crossing.

“Ah, it’s fine. Thank you, Yun. Good night.” Mizuki’s voice eased, like a tide receding.

Click.

The call dropped into silence, leaving beeps like raindrops. Yun Shi wiped a hand across her face, confused—what was that girl doing?

She had no idea what Mizuki was thinking—fog over a river.

Yun gave up on the thought and decided to sleep. Suddenly, a text chimed in—one note, like a bell. She opened it. Her calm face tightened into seriousness, brows knitting like threads.

“Ah.” The sigh slid out, a long reed.

Yun Shi curled on her bed, gaze clouded like a gray sky. “Maya Hanazaka, I really owe you. No choice—I’ll help you, just this once.”

She said it helplessly, then rolled on the bed, mind already turning like a loom.

Where’s a good place to buy clothes?