The sea growls beneath the ship as dawn breaks, a thin blade of light slicing the horizon. I stand at the rail, my breath sharp in my chest. Rose stands beside me, her arms wrapped around herself, shivering hard.
She is not made for the cold.
I am. Unfortunately.
"You're freezing," I say.
"No, just… a little…" Her voice trembles. Her smile is weak. She wants to look fine. She is not.
I remove my cloak and drape it over her shoulders. Her body stiffens. When I pull her closer—because the wind is merciless—her breath catches against me.
"Stay warm," I say.
"…You're too close," she whispers.
"The only option."
She falls silent.
The sun climbs. A thin line of gold spreads across the water.
"Hiro," she says, "there's something you need to know before we meet my uncle."
"About what?"
"About the Sun and the Moon. About the crystal inside you."
My breath stops. She begins to explain.
A war.
A god's punishment.
Lucifer condemned.
The Moon slain.
The crystal falling, lost.
A power never meant for humans.
"And now it's inside you," she says softly. "The next vessel. The next target everyone will hunt."
She looks at me. Her fear is not for herself—
it is for me.
"Don't look at me like that," I say.
"Like what?"
"Like I matter."
She freezes.
Breakfast passes in silence. The canned food she brought tastes ordinary, but my stomach rejects it. Guilt tightens every time she forces herself to eat just so I don't eat alone.
When she begins to clean up, her hands shake—not from the cold, but from something she is holding back.
"Rose."
"Hm?" Her answer is quick.
"I'm a burden."
She pauses.
Then she shakes her head. "No. I chose this. I started this."
"That's the problem," I say.
Her eyes widen. The can in her hand stops moving. The wind tugs at her hair, but she doesn't look away.
"So… you don't want me here?" she asks softly.
"That's not what I said."
I lift my shirt. The long wound from my chest to my waist is stitched over and over—dozens, maybe hundreds of times. "This is," I whisper.
"Hiro—are you in pain?" She reaches for me.
I dodge her hand before it touches my chest.
She stares—hurt.
"You act like I'm a threat," she says quietly.
"You don't understand what's inside me."
"And you don't understand what you are to me."
Her words strike harder than the cold wind. I am the first to look away.
Rose listens as if every word I speak is a thread tethering me to her. Her hope is reckless. Her closeness is dangerous. For a moment… I let her wrap the bandage around my wound.
"Hooaammn." She yawns while cleaning up the cans and bottles, packing her bag and things. Then she sits and leans against the ship beside me.
"I'm so sleepy, Hiro."
Her head drops onto my shoulder.
"Hiro," she murmurs, her voice drifting,
"I hope I dream of you."
When she finally falls asleep on my shoulder, saying my name, something tightens in my chest—hard enough to steal my breath.
My chest throbs again.
The wound feels as if it is pulling open.
The wind roars along the deck.
I look up—white clouds in a blue sky, a road I never chose, and a girl leaning on me with all her trust.