Snow pressed tightly against the window, sealing the outside world behind a white, endless wall.

  Akitsu Shouga stood quietly near the narrow frame, breath fogging the glass as he stared into the storm. There was no sky beyond it. No horizon. Only an unbroken curtain of white, swallowing sound and distance alike. It felt less like weather and more like a boundary—something meant to keep the world out, or him in.

  “Vale-san,” he said at last, his voice low and careful, as though raising it might fracture the stillness, “it must be lonely in here by yourself, right?”

  Vale sat a short distance away, kneeling beside a low shelf as she sorted dried herbs by scent and texture. Her movements were slow, practiced, unhurried. At his question, she paused, fingers hovering over a bundle tied with twine.

  “…Yeah,” she said after a moment. “It is pretty lonely.”

  She resumed her work, tone even.

  “But I’ve been living here for one hundred and twenty-six years, so I’m used to it by now.”

  Akitsu stiffened.

  “…Eh?!” He turned toward her, eyes wide. “One hundred and twenty-six?! You’re— you’re really old!”

  Vale’s head snapped up. Her violet eyes locked onto him, sharp as frost.

  “Is that how you humans treat women?” she asked flatly. “And just so you know, I’m practically middle-aged. I’m not old.”

  Akitsu flailed his hands in panic, nearly slipping on the blankets pooled around his legs.

  “N-No! That’s not what I meant!” he said quickly. “I just— I mean— it’s amazing. Living that long. Humans only live about eighty years if they’re lucky.”

  Vale’s expression softened. Her gaze drifted back to the window, to the storm that refused to end.

  “…That’s pretty sad,” she murmured. “I guess that’s what nature wanted.”

  The words settled heavily between them.

  After a brief silence, Akitsu spoke again.

  “Vale-san… when will this snowstorm end? I have to go back home.”

  She answered without hesitation.

  “The chief said the storm will end in about twenty-six days from now.”

  “…Twenty-six days,” Akitsu repeated quietly.

  His eyes dropped to his hands. Pale. Slightly trembling. Too many thoughts crowded his chest at once.

  Twenty-six days…

  I might as well try to figure out how my powers work until then.

  Or should I leave now, while the snow hides me?

  But I don’t even know where the exit is…

  Am I the only one who can do this? Die and return?

  Vale watched him from the corner of her eye, her ears twitching faintly.

  “It’s nice having some company in this depressing house,” she said gently. “Isn’t that right?”

  Akitsu looked up, startled by the softness in her tone.

  “…Vale-san,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “do you have some sort of power or anything like it?”

  She blinked once.

  “The villagers don’t,” she replied. “Only the village chief and the guardians do. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” Akitsu said quickly. “I just wanted to know if powers were… real.”

  Vale smiled faintly.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Oh well,” she said. “Even if you don’t tell me the reason, I trust you.”

  Akitsu sat down on the wooden floor, exhaling slowly, letting the warmth seep back into his bones.

  Far away—

  Beyond the storm, beyond the forest’s edge—

  A man walked alone through a swamp.

  Crimson armor clung tightly to his body, lacquered plates catching what little light filtered through the mist. A long scarf trailed behind him like a banner soaked in blood. His white hair swayed with every step, and his red eyes scanned the world with sharp, predatory focus.

  At his side hung a katana in a white sheath, roses painted delicately along its surface and bound with a strip of red cloth.

  He stopped.

  Before him stood a massive tree, its trunk split by a hollow wide enough to swallow a man whole.

  “…Interesting,” he muttered.

  His hand rested lightly on the katana as he stepped inside.

  In the blink of an eye, the world changed.

  A vast forest stretched endlessly before him, snowstorm raging just as fiercely as the one beyond the swamp. He turned back.

  The exit was still there.

  “…Good.”

  He stepped forward.

  An arrow screamed through the air behind him.

  He dodged without even turning his head.

  More presences revealed themselves—figures perched in the branches, silent, patient, watching.

  “Ah,” the man sighed. “Looks like I have to take a detour.”

  In the next instant, he vanished, his movement tearing through the storm faster than sight could follow.

  Back inside the tree house—

  Vale had stepped outside to gather supplies.

  Akitsu lay stretched across the floor, wrapped in blankets, the warmth finally lulling his body into rest.

  Sleep took him.

  And with it—memory.

  He walked down a familiar street after school.

  The sun was warm. Gentle. A child laughed nearby as he played with a dog in the park. Akitsu smiled faintly as he passed by, hands in his pockets.

  When he reached home, raised voices echoed from inside.

  He hesitated.

  Then opened the door.

  Shoes off.

  The living room came into view.

  His father was striking his mother.

  “Oi,” Akitsu said calmly. “Knock it off. The neighbors are going to call the police again.”

  His father turned slowly.

  Tattoos crawled across his arms. His shirt hung loose, stained by years of neglect.

  “What did you say to me, you little punk?!” the man roared.

  He grabbed Akitsu by the hair and slammed him across the face.

  Akitsu chuckled softly.

  “How pathetic can you become, huh?”

  The kick came next.

  Darkness swallowed him.

  Akitsu jolted awake.

  His chest heaved as pain tore through his head, sharp and familiar.

  “What… was that?” he gasped. “A nightmare…?”

  He lay back down, staring at the wooden ceiling as snow battered the roof above him.

  “…No.”

  His voice was barely a whisper.

  “That wasn’t a nightmare.”

  His eyes hardened.

  “It was real.”

  Outside, the storm continued to howl—

  As past and present quietly intertwined.