I was always taught to be honest. So people often told me things like, "tolerable, but completely lacking in kindness." Though… I'm not entirely sure if that's exactly how their words went.
But even honesty had its limits, it seemed.
Anyway.
I stared intently at Luisa's palm, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't see anything. What kind of magic was she trying to show me? Invisibility? But what exactly had she made invisible? The air? Or… maybe me?
This morning—or rather, afternoon—Luisa suddenly declared she wanted to show me something amazing. I have to admit, I was intrigued when she decided to demonstrate magic. Even though I'd seen different kinds already, it was precisely those differences that made it so fascinating.
And now… all that was in front of me was a palm. A palm and nothing more.
I was completely baffled by her half-proud smile.
"So… what is it?"
"A whirlwind," Luisa announced with a nod.
"Hmm…?"
I craned my neck, practically hovering over her open palm. Only then did a thin, barely noticeable breeze brush my skin.
"Whoa," I breathed, jerking back.
"See? Cool, right?" She proudly planted her hands on her hips. But a moment later her shoulders slumped, and her smile turned shy. "And… that's all I can do."
I stared at her for a while, trying to decide whether to praise her or feel sorry for her. While I pondered, her eyes darted back and forth. It was hard to read her expression.
"Well… yeah, probably. One day you'll make a great air conditioner."
"Air condi… Collector?"
Frowning, she stared at me with unfocused eyes, as if I were speaking a foreign language. Though you couldn't really blame her—I didn't even know what or who an "air conditioner" was.
"Huh? Yeah. But where's the actual whirlwind?"
She blinked several times—as if I'd just asked something incredibly stupid—and raised an eyebrow.
"It's right here."
She held out her hand again, palm up. But just like before, even squinting, I saw nothing. Except for a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. Apparently magic didn't like being summoned too often.
"Obviously air is supposed to be invisible." I nodded, confirming my hypothesis.
"Probably being able to control air is really cool. I always see it when Mom uses magic. Yours… it's like it doesn't even exist."
"Wanna fight?" Luisa huffed indignantly.
She pressed her palm to her chest, as if about to "cast" a spell and poke me back—but I just waved it off and stared at her.
This was normal: misunderstanding me or turning everything into a joke when she didn't know what to say. And the longer we spent together, the more I noticed we… were becoming alike.
Not that I was grateful for it.
After all, it meant that she, like me, sometimes stopped understanding people's moods.
Weird. I thought usually the younger ones picked things up from the older ones. Was I wrong?
"So… that's all you can do, huh?"
Head down, Luisa nodded. When I put a hand on her shoulder—supposedly to comfort her—I realized she was taller than me. I'd known that before, given our ages, but this much…?
I wasn't upset, of course. After all, I still had growing to do.
Wait… so did she.
What if I'd always have to look up at her? Just the thought made my neck ache already.
"Papa said magic is evil. That's why he never sent me to school and taught me everything himself."
Why? Can't you just go to a normal school without magic?
A natural question that popped into my head. But I didn't ask it yet.
"Your papa doesn't have magic?"
"No way," she shook her head firmly. "He's really strong. He… just like your mom, can cast without words!"
I hadn't really thought about it before, but wasn't it special that Mom and Euriel could cast without words?
Probably because I saw their magic every day, it had stopped feeling noteworthy. But something in Luisa's words made me doubt.
I clearly remembered Euriel saying that magic is imagination. And for some reason, hearing it back then had made me anxious. As if someone important had once told me the exact same thing. Only I couldn't remember their face or voice.
Strange…
And yet, if everyone I knew could cast without words, what was so special about it?
"What's the big deal?" I asked, tilting my head. "You didn't say anything when you cast your whirlwind either."
"You don't know?"
Something in her voice intrigued me—like she was about to share a scary secret.
Tugging my pajama sleeve, Luisa brought her eyes level with mine. Her hair swayed, almost reaching my nose, making me swallow.
"Know what?"
"Haven't you noticed that people on the street, the kids at the orphanage, even the priests at the temple—all cast using words?" she whispered.
I rarely went outside, so I couldn't confirm or deny it. Still, something inside me trusted her words. Like I'd known it all along and just forgotten. But… how?
"Well… my magic isn't quite like that," she admitted with an awkward smile. "I don't know the words… Just air. No shape, no direction, no presence."
"Then just imagine it."
I answered without really thinking. It was the first thing that came to mind and, at the same time, felt right.
"Imagine the whirlwind. Its density, its color, how it spins. Magic is… just imagination, after all."
Pulling back to arm's length, Luisa stared at me blankly. For some reason, now it felt like I was the one who'd shared a secret.
"What are you talking about? Do you even have magic?"
Fair question. I didn't just lack magic; I barely knew anything about it. I'd only ever watched from the sidelines.
Of course, I could show her the threads. But knowing about them would seem weird to a normal person. Even abnormal.
I wasn't even sure how I'd learned about them. Probably by accident. And Euriel had taken it so calmly… though he rarely got surprised about anything when it came to me.
But Luisa…
What kind of face would she make if she saw it? For some reason I really didn't want to find out.
"Well… not exactly," I said with a crooked smile, scratching the back of my head. "Euriel told me that when he was showing me his magic."
"Oh?" Luisa narrowed her eyes, as if checking if I was lying. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did he tell you?"
For a moment I caught myself wondering how to answer.
Why, indeed? Probably so I wouldn't do anything stupid. Or so I could handle things I didn't understand.
I wasn't entirely sure. But even so, that wasn't an answer I could say out loud. Of course not.
My pause clearly didn't sit well with her. Her face came closer, making me feel like her nose was about to touch mine.
Starting to feel tired from the pressure, I leaned back a little.
"How should I know?" I shrugged. "Ask him yourself when he gets back. He's quite the oddball, you know."
"Said the oddball," Luisa muttered, settling back down.
I crossed my arms, wanting to retort. But I quickly lost the motivation. There was something about the way Luisa bounced slightly in front of me that made it impossible to focus on anything else.
She was like an impatient child peering under the Christmas tree for her present. One look at her was enough to know she couldn't wait to test my words.
Unlike me, who tended to put things off as long as possible, she preferred a more direct approach. "Later" simply didn't exist in her vocabulary.
The way the tips of her hair swayed as she eagerly stared at her palm made her look so carefree. And, honestly… cute. I just couldn't stay mad at her.
In a strange way, her feverish behavior calmed me down. As if my inner state was inversely proportional to hers.
So this is roughly how big sisters feel? No, wait, something's off here.
Before I could grasp that thought, my hair stirred. I felt a gentle stream of air softly brush my face. Then, from the center of her palm, transparent pollen rose—so fine it could be mistaken for light reflecting off glass. Only this light… was olive-green. Sort of.
The specks wavered, as if the air itself trembled around them, gathering into patterns, separating, converging again, and stretching into thin lines—fragile as cobwebs drifting in the breeze.
The lines intertwined like musical notes, forming a tiny, almost melodic whirlwind.
I looked at Luisa and noticed her jaw trembling, as if she couldn't believe it herself. Her eyes looked both blurry and sparkling, like the midday sun.
"Did… it work…? Seriously…?"
I wasn't even sure who she was asking, but it was hard for me to squeeze out any words. So all I managed was a nod.
There was something fairy-tale-like about her imperfect whirlwind. And that something made it seem incredibly beautiful, almost fleeting.
Luisa kept staring at her palm with her mouth open, desperately trying to make sounds.
I wanted to praise her, but then I froze. I'd never seen a green Luisa before. And I meant her face, not her hair.
Then a blue Luisa started appearing. Now her face resembled the ocean.
I'd seen her blush from embarrassment and pale when tired… but never this shade. It looked like her magic was draining more from her than she could handle.
"Hey… stop it." I grabbed her wrist, and in that instant, the whirlwind simply vanished.
Her eyelids drooped, and she collapsed. Right onto me. It took a lot of effort to hold her up.
I felt the fabric of my pajamas stretch where her hands clutched me. And though it felt like a normal hug, there was something that made my heart go wild. Like a pile of charcoal had ignited, exploded, and scattered into splinters.
Her face… right at my neck.
Her breath tickled my skin as she happily giggled. I started feeling like I was melting. A weakness washed over me, as if all the bones had been pulled from my shoulders.
I needed to do something. But it was useless. My mind was in ruins, and even if I tried to find something there, there was nothing to grab onto.
It felt like if she didn't stop, I'd face-plant into the pillow too.
"I did it… I really did it… thank you…" she breathed out, as if afraid that speaking louder would make the magic disappear again.
Behind me, birds were singing—not cheerfully, but insistently, like they were pecking at the frosty air, trying to push a plea for warmth through the glass. Outside, the wind tore snowflakes to shreds; the whiteness was so thick the world looked erased with an eraser. And in that sterile emptiness, our house felt like the only island of color, the only place where anything was alive.
I sighed, and that sigh seemed to prompt Luisa to lift her head. Her face was dangerously close again—I could count her eyelashes. She nodded, waiting for some reaction. Almost demanding it.
"Oh… yeah. You… did great," I said, awkwardly patting her back.
She blinked a couple of times—as if processing the info—then laughed again. Her arms squeezed tighter, like she was afraid she'd fall from her own laughter.
"Oh, wow. Could you have said that any more unnaturally?"
"What…? I…"
"I'm tired," she drawled. "And also…"
Her stomach suddenly made a sound like a hungry bear had woken up under the bed. Caught off guard by her stomach's insistent demand, I stared at her with wide eyes.
She immediately looked away. And that marked the triumphant return of pink Luisa. The most frequent, most familiar, most… loud variety. It was weird how long it had been gone.
I caught myself unable to look away from her face. There was something about her, something captivating, probably.
I shook my head sharply, as if shooing away a fly, and exhaled.
"You're hungry?" It should've been obvious, but I asked anyway. "I'll… ask Mom to make something."
This time the corners of her mouth tensed. It looked like she was trying to force a smile but failing. The pink on her cheeks turned redder, as if she'd initially hoped I hadn't heard.
"Really? How… sweet of you."
The moment I let go, she sprawled across the bed. The blanket quietly slid down to her feet, as if it too decided to claim more space. Looks like she'd just been waiting for me to get out so she could declare the entire mattress her territory.
Fine.
Getting off the bed, I felt the stiff carpet fibers dig into my soles. It was warmer than the floor but still carried that icy morning chill. I usually went barefoot—but the shiver running up my legs quickly convinced me to put on slippers.
At the door, I climbed onto the stool, wobbling it slightly. The doorknob was, as always, above my reach—as if I hadn't grown at all. I opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
Mom was rarely on the second floor, which meant I had to go downstairs.
I approached the stairs and peeked over the edge. Though I never had a fear of heights, my knees still buckled a little. It was quiet down there. Too quiet.
"Not today," I told myself and nodded, as if someone could see.
When I reached my parents' room, the door was ajar. That usually meant they weren't there—but since I was already here, I decided to check.
I'd barely peeked in when I immediately backed away and turned around. The floorboard creaked under me, so I couldn't leave unnoticed. Not that I cared what was happening in their bedroom.
Though I was the one at fault for not knocking.
"No, Yori, wait!" Dad's voice reached me.
I glanced over my shoulder: only his head peeked from behind the doorframe. He looked like someone desperately hoping this awkward scene would never leave the room.
Honestly, it was the least of my concerns.
"When you're dressed… can you carry me downstairs? Please."
He nodded way too quickly, like I'd just saved his life. I turned away and walked to the stairs, sitting on the top step—I didn't feel like waiting, but I wasn't going to jump down myself either.
If I could use the threads, could I get down? No. Of course not. I'd probably end up gluing myself to the ceiling and dangling over the stairs, legs kicking helplessly until someone came to rescue me again.
Sitting on the step and sighing periodically at my own helplessness, I heard footsteps behind me. For a second I thought it was Dad finally ready, but no—Luisa was standing there.
Without breaking eye contact, she slowly sat beside me—so slowly it honestly made her look incredibly suspicious. From her face, it was clear she was barely holding back a smirk.
"Weren't you going to ask for lunch?" she asked.
"I'm waiting for Dad to carry me down," I replied calmly.
"O-oh…" she drew out so expressively it felt like she'd buried the last scraps of my dignity.
I crossed my arms. Luisa just didn't understand. I could get down myself… of course I could. It would just take a bit longer. Well, maybe a lot longer.
Was it bad that I didn't want to make her wait? It was pure consideration.
"Looks like you were born to have everyone take care of you."
I huffed again. It wasn't exactly insulting, but it annoyed me how easily she could tease me.
"Or maybe the opposite: I was born to surround everyone with my care," I said, turning away.
Luisa scooted closer, propped her elbow on her knee, and let out a quiet, confident chuckle.
"No way. If you were someone's support… the world couldn't handle that kind of load."
She waved it off, as if she'd just closed the case of the century. It stung a little. So I was completely hopeless, huh?
I sighed and tugged her cheek. A light, almost symbolic gesture—but her fearless smile stayed.
Weird… but it made me feel a bit better. Maybe I'd actually won our uneven battle for staircase territory. Or just proved to myself I could at least do something.
"You sure you still need to go down?"
Dad's voice gave me a strange sense of déjà vu. It seemed he was developing a talent for appearing exactly when the situation looked… well, let's say not the best. Not that we were doing anything suspicious, but the fact remained: I was tugging Luisa's cheek, and she was smiling like she actually enjoyed it.
As for Dad himself… he looked like a normal person again. Almost. It was amazing how fast he recovered—as if his internal shame-and-chaos reset mechanism worked at storm speed.
"Of course I do," I replied. "I can't manage without my elevator."
"Elevator?" He frowned as if I'd named some mythical beast. His lips twitched slightly, like he was tasting the word. "Elevator… elevator… But you're too young for an elevator. Wait… something's off here."
He rubbed his chin and stared at the far wall, as if trying to picture me… in something weird, clearly.
We stared at each other with identical looks: "Do you even realize what you just said?"
Even though I didn't know what he meant, I definitely understood: we were talking about different things.
"Ho-ho-ho, way too young for an elevator!"
No matter how I tugged her soft cheek, Luisa still managed to get out another jab—though slightly slurred because of my hand. Did she even know what she was saying? A philosophical question. I could barely boast full clarity myself right now.
When she opened her mouth wider for her "ho-ho-ho," I felt my fingers get wet.
"Ew."
I yanked my hand back like I'd touched boiling water and tried to wipe it on my pajamas.
"Don't 'ew' at people."
A flick to the forehead—sharp, brazen, completely unexpected—made me wobble. I grabbed my forehead and hissed through my teeth.
"But you… Ow, fine…"
I wanted to say her behavior was more like a dog's, but I kept quiet. Who knows where she'd flick next.
Then Mom appeared downstairs. I heard her grumbling irritably at the grandfather clock—as if it was to blame for time not obeying her.
Mom looked up the stairs and opened her mouth for another tirade, but instantly switched to a smile when she saw the three of us on the steps.
"Ah, there you are. Quint…"
"We already came down! Honestly!" Dad blurted out at lightning speed, as if he'd known exactly what Mom was about to say.
The smell of food quickly wafted up to the second floor—warm, rich, enveloping. And in that same instant, the creature living in Luisa's stomach reminded everyone of its existence with another loud, indignant growl.
I slowly turned to her and stared straight at her belly, as if it was talking to me.
Luisa flushed and frowned. "Why are you grinning? Planning to say something mean?"
What did she mean? I touched my cheeks—and only then realized I was smiling. I don't know why, but… it really was fun.
.
That evening I didn't rush back to my room—I lingered in the living room, where the yellow stone under the ceiling bathed everything in even, warm light. It didn't disturb the night; it only highlighted it: pushing shadows into the corners, leaving the space soft, like it was melting.
I stood on a chair by the window, palms pressed against the cold glass.
Outside, everything glowed. The sky was dark, almost moonless, yet… bright.
The snow lay in an even blanket and shimmered on its own—as if a tiny spark smoldered inside every flake. No lantern, no fire nearby. Just whiteness reflecting everything it could catch: stars, distant city lights, even me, if you looked closely.
The evening air out there, beyond the glass, was so still it seemed solid. I stared without blinking, as if frozen with it. This ghostly light made time… fragile. Magical. Slipping away.
And in that silence, amid the almost silvery glow of the snow, I suddenly heard my name.
Not out loud—inside. As if someone called softly, softly, with warm voices weaving together.
Dad, Mom, Euriel. And one more—new. A stranger yesterday, but already family today.
Playful like Dad's. Gentle like Mom's. And a little thoughtful like Euriel's.
And who could it belong to? Obviously… Luisa.
When I heard those voices all mixed together, warmth spread through me. So much that the glass around my palms fogged up.
Snow will melt one day. The fog will vanish the moment I lift my hands. And yet… that's exactly what reminded me the world is alive. It changes. It moves, even if I stand still. Even if I do nothing myself.
My stomach was full, but that was just the obvious part. Everything inside me felt… satisfied too.
I'm changing too. Not just gaining weight or getting taller, older. No, I'm growing… bigger on the inside. Though probably on the outside as well.
I smiled at my reflection in the glass. It looked weird, but overall—tolerable.
"What are you plotting over there?"
Only hearing that inquisitive tone did I notice another reflection.
"Just admiring your reflection."
A half-honest lie. Or… a quarter? I didn't even know how much truth was acceptable in situations like this. I don't know how long she'd been standing behind me, but I hadn't heard the floor creak or her breathing—as if she'd materialized right there.
"Huh? What…? Idiot, you were staring at yourself!"
"Don't compare me to you, Miss Vanity. Because of you I almost forgot what a mirror looks like," I said, carefully climbing down from the chair.
"Hey!" she yelped and immediately clenched her fists, as if ready for a fight. Her height didn't let her look intimidating, but her enthusiasm sure did. "Are you mad or something?"
I blinked, thrown off. Then I laughed—not at her, but at how many absurd conclusions could fit in one head.
I spread my arms, shrugged—and that was probably the most genuine reaction to her question. Because really… what was there to even be mad about?
Apparently only Luisa herself knew the answer to that.
"Ugh, sometimes you're impossible to understand," Luisa huffed.
I felt like she didn't need to understand. Carefree people like her were probably far beyond such questions. I guess that was one of the things that made our relationship so special.
"And…"
"Girls, girls, want some sweets?"
Before I could reply, Dad shamelessly barged in with his untimely offer. And… of course we agreed.
Following Luisa, I headed to the kitchen. Behind us came a tired sigh—I glanced back and saw Mom. She was sitting on the couch, slowly shaking her head, as if watching two chicks being led straight into a wolf's den.
From her look alone it was clear: she definitely knew something we didn't. Like an evil witch luring us into a gingerbread house, but Mom decided not to stop us—just follow and catch the culprit red-handed.
"What is it? More helion?" I asked, entering the kitchen.
"Better. Now… palms up," he said, darting a glance to the top shelf.
Curiosity pulled me forward, but I stayed back, like a cautious animal waiting to see if the bait was a trap.
Luisa held out one hand.
"Both," Dad said without looking.
She obediently offered the second. And I realized the situation was already out of control.
Seriously? He was going to give us that much?
I glanced at Mom. She stood motionless, arms crossed, face completely blank—and that was the scariest part. Paradoxically, even without showing it, danger radiated from her. You'd have to be blind, deaf, and completely stuffed up not to sense it.
Cautiously grabbing the hem of Luisa's shirt, I looked back and forth between Dad and her palms. Everything inside me screamed: nothing good was coming next.
"Here you go."
I didn't even blink—just watched as Dad calmly poured… sugar into Luisa's hands. Plain sugar. Sugar.
"This…" Luisa started, confused, staring at her palms.
"Sweet, huh?" A satisfied smile appeared on his face as he licked his finger. "Yori?"
"Me?! No-no-no! Thanks, I'm… full already," I muttered, backing up until I bumped into Mom's leg.
Behind me, Mom let out a weary sigh. It was scary to imagine how much she'd seen in her life that scenes like this didn't surprise her at all.
"How come? The more we take, the more helions we can make!"
He raised his hand to the ceiling, as if leading us into a bright future of sugar trails.
So that's it? He wanted to use us for his smuggling? Well… we had only ourselves to blame for falling for his tricks.
I sighed and looked at Luisa. She was still frozen in place. She blinked, staring bewildered at the white crystals in her palms.
And then Dad's bravado began to deflate.
Fast. Like someone had poked him in the chest and all the air rushed out.
His arm went limp and dropped. His eyes darted nervously, jumping between me and the door. His smile wavered, turning into a pitiful imitation.
He realized too late that Mom was there.
"Emi…?" he croaked, as if choking on his own enthusiasm. "H-how long have you been here?"
She tapped her chin, pretending to think. It looked like that single innocent gesture was a countdown for Dad.
"Hmm… let me think," she said softly. "Probably since the invitation. Am I not a girl too, dear?"
He hunched his shoulders so fast it was like he wanted to hide his head, neck, and everything else. Very timidly—so timidly the sugar bowl clinked from his trembling—he set it on the table.
Dad tried to take a step back—but running was pointless now. Mom didn't even change expression: she sighed quietly, stepped back half a pace as if stretching her shoulder… and then lightly tapped his chest with one finger.
Just one finger.
As it turned out, that was enough.
Dad collapsed—more from shock than pain. Like a possum choosing "instant death" as its survival strategy at the sight of a predator.
"Um… Mom?" I asked cautiously.
She bent down, easily hoisting Dad over her shoulder like he wasn't a grown man but a sack of flour.
"Don't worry, Yori," she said with such a calm smile I actually shivered. "I'm just taking Papa to his laboratory. He can spend the night… reflecting."
I nodded. Honestly, it was much easier to agree than try to figure out what she really meant.
Luisa kept standing there, holding the sugar, still undecided whether to pour it back or eat it.
In retrospect, this was probably the weirdest day of my entire life. What's even weirder—it led me to a thought completely uncharacteristic for me.
I suddenly realized I wanted to live in a way that didn't make me mourn the passing years, but celebrate them. All together.
So that my happiness brought joy to others too.
I'd like it to last until death. If that's even possible.
For now…
Shaking off the unnecessary thoughts, I stood on tiptoes to reach the sugar bowl, but as expected, it wasn't enough.
I dragged a chair closer and climbed up—only then could I grab the bowl from the table. The lid clicked dully as I opened it and held it out to Luisa.
"Well? You can pour it in."
She didn't react right away. She stared at the white grains in her palms as if seeing something entirely different.
"Snow…" she whispered.
"It's sugar," I clarified just in case.
"I'm not that stupid," she puffed up, quickly pouring everything into the bowl and shaking off the remnants from her fingers. "I meant snow… real snow."
She looked incredibly excited as she pointed at the window.
"Let's go play in the snow? Tomorrow, for sure."
"Huh?"
.
"Yori… Yori! …YORI! Wake up!"
Along with the shouts, someone started shaking me insistently by the shoulders. My neck ached and creaked pitifully. I opened my eyes in a daze and blinked several times to focus.
"W-what? What happened?" I asked, frightened.
"It's morning already! Let's go play in the snow!" Luisa cried out enthusiastically.
"What…?"
My heart was pounding against my chest, my lips trembled, and my breathing was ragged, as if I'd just been running through dark alleys—from my own echo. And all this just to drag me outside!?
Her face beamed with a smile bright enough to show her pearly white teeth. Her eyes looked tired, as if she hadn't slept all night in anticipation of today.
But… seriously?
I yanked the blanket, pulled it over my head, and turned away.
"No," I answered curtly and closed my eyes.
"Whaaat?" she drew out. "But you promised!"
She started shaking my shoulders again, and now it wasn't just my neck creaking—my teeth were too.
What promise was she talking about? I never actually agreed.
From all the shaking, I suddenly remembered this was supposedly how you snap people out of it. From personal experience, I could confirm it was a terrible idea.
"I didn't promise you anything," I said, shifting sideways to push Luisa away and hiding back under the blanket.
In response, Luisa just growled something. With my eyes closed, I couldn't see what was happening. But the prolonged silence started making me nervous, making it hard to fall asleep.
I cracked my eyes open to glance at her. Luisa was squinting, standing unnaturally straight. Her cheeks and neck were bright red, and I could only assume she was holding her breath to maintain that monumental pose. Was she… angry?
"Oh, so that's how it is? Your own fault."
"Fault for what?" I was about to ask, but the way she suddenly yanked the blanket from my hands and tossed it aside left me stunned. I had neither the time nor the chance to resist.
My pajamas were one-piece, held closed on the belly by just a few buttons.
Why am I mentioning this? Well…
I was completely bewildered as Luisa started unbuttoning me. Without hesitation, she just… undressed me.
Was she really planning to dress me by force? I was so thrown off I couldn't even move.
Then, when the buttons gave way, I realized—Luisa wasn't planning to dress me… She immediately flopped sideways onto me and latched onto my waist.
Her fingers dug into my skin, squeezing my sides, pressing under my ribs, as if trying to force laughter out of me. It wasn't subtle or gentle—it was insistent and merciless.
I squealed before I even realized it.
"Hahaha…! Stop! Stop right now!" My words crumbled into meaningless laughter.
She shifted her grip, pinned me to the mattress with her knee, and pressed again—harder, deeper, right where it was impossible not to react. My stomach cramped, my ribs ached from the strain, and my legs started kicking the bed like a caught fish.
I tried to push her away, grabbing her sleeves, her shoulder—anything—but every time I almost succeeded, a new wave of laughter drained all my strength.
"I won't stop until you agree!" she declared triumphantly, as if it were the fairest condition in the world.
I thrashed, twisted, gasped for air—and right then she lost her balance.
Luisa wobbled awkwardly and crashed down on me with her full weight, knocking the air out of my lungs. The bed creaked pitifully.
My head was buzzing, my arms shaking, I was panting like a dog under the summer sun, but I still found the strength to try escaping.
But in trying to push her off, I personally ruined my last chance at salvation.
Pushing her shoulder, I accidentally pressed her head down. She tried to protest, but all that came out was a drawn-out "mmmm" as her face smooshed against my stomach.
Her breath touched my skin—and something like an electric shock ran through my body. Before I could process what was happening, a sharp pain stabbed my belly—her teeth clamped down.
"Ow! Fine! I'll go! I'll go!" The words burst out before I could think.
It was my complete defeat. Not heroic. Not graceful. Just pathetic.
As soon as my hand slipped from her head, she quickly lifted it. From the beet-red color of her face, it was clear she'd been short on air. Even her ears were bright red, like some butterfly's wings.
"You almost flattened my nose," Luisa grumbled, rubbing the bridge of it.
That was the last thing I wanted to hear from her. Wasn't she the one who… Ah, so that's what she meant by "your own fault." How thoughtful.
I felt the bite spot throbbing, a red mark spreading around her tooth prints. A cool breeze slid across my skin—and the moisture on my belly instantly felt unpleasantly sticky. I shivered and quickly wiped it with my pajama fabric.
"Well?"
She started sounding like some instrument, leaning toward me insistently. I really wanted to lecture her about personal boundaries, but it felt like it was already too late for that.
"Well what?"
"Are you going to get dressed?"
I was about to say no, but after my defeat I'd lost my voting rights. Of course, her fingers weren't skilled enough to… No, wait. That sounded kinda wrong.
In other words, I didn't want her to bite me again.
"I don't have anything to wear."
Luisa was clearly puzzled by my answer. I could almost see a question mark forming above her head from her confusion.
"I usually don't go outside. So I don't even know if I have any winter clothes," I explained.
"Then ask your mom."
"She's downstairs."
"And?" Luisa seemed to ask.
Maybe "seemed" wasn't quite right. Her shoulders did all the talking for her.
"You want me to go down myself?"
Judging by how slowly her eyes widened, realization didn't hit Luisa right away. A faint smile appeared on her face as she scratched her cheek.
"Right… I guess I got too carried away and forgot."
"Nothing new," I replied, shrugging.
My jab was met with an awkward cough. She nodded and hurriedly climbed off the bed.
Luisa probably didn't even notice she'd put on my slippers in her rush. The sound they made against the floor wasn't the same as when I wore them. I wonder what made it so unique?
Only when she turned the corner could I relax again, stretching out on the bed. And… once Luisa left and took her shadow with her, I realized I didn't like the light streaming in.
Lying there any longer felt impossible, so I decided to get up and see what was happening outside the window.
The trees, their branches coated in thick foam-like snow, bathed in the morning sun. Their bark looked darker in places, hinting that night hadn't fully passed.
The sky was cloudless, and if you looked closely, you could see every shade of blue where the sun was gradually chasing away the darkness. Realizing this made my mouth open wide in a yawn, my hands reaching for my eyes.
What was so great about this snow that Luisa was so excited?
Someday I'll… Someday, what? I tried to summon those vague memories, but couldn't. Like they'd drifted out of the frame, those thoughts quickly became inaccessible to me.
I'd hoped going outside wouldn't happen so soon. Let alone in winter.
I'd never been a big fan of it. Partly because the cold made my face and fingers hurt. And partly because wearing heavy winter clothes felt really uncomfortable.
After my first trip outside, I'd left all worries about the outside world to future me.
Well… now that future had arrived, and I had to deal with it. I'd become future me. Though not by choice.
I was just about to draw the curtain when I heard voices behind me. Leaving it as is, I lowered my hand and turned around.
"Yori, you're really going outside?"
Mom was the first to greet me. Well, if you could call that a greeting.
At the same time, Luisa looked awfully pleased with herself. Standing between Dad and Mom, she puffed out her chest a little and planted a hand on her hip—like the winner of a competition whose rules I'd only learned after the finish line.
"What's wrong with that?"
"You don't like the cold."
Her attempt to feign surprise left much to be desired. It sounded like she thought the whole thing was a joke. Though I wouldn't have minded if it actually was.
"I already promised. So…"
"Then I'm coming with you," Dad declared, thumping his chest.
"Why?"
"We'll just be near the house."
"I don't want to end up glued to the window watching you. What if some suspicious people approach you?"
"I don't think anyone could be more suspicious than you," I wanted to say, but he beat me to it.
"You're my daughter. And if there's one thing you take after me, it's being a little dim."
That was a shocking revelation. So shocking I hesitated for a moment, unsure how to respond.
"I always suspected as much," it took me another second to gather my thoughts and add, "But don't worry—next year I'll upgrade from 'a little dim' to 'a little smart.'"
Dad just laughed at my reply. Hard to tell if he doubted me or knew from experience that getting smarter wasn't that easy. Well, it didn't really matter.
"Oh, don't listen to him," Mom said, holding her head. "He just wants to come play with you girls." She crouched down beside me, cupped her hand over her mouth, and added, "Actually, you've been smarter than your father since the day you were born."
"Emi!" Dad cried indignantly.
Even though it was supposed to be a secret, Mom said it loud enough for him to hear. His reaction was enough to wipe away any lingering tension.
.
As it turned out, I did have winter clothes after all. Not a full set, of course, but enough to go outside—in a way.
The coat had been bought "to grow into." Very optimistically. Apparently no one expected me to venture out in winter for the next five years at least. It hung on me like a sack, threatening to pull my shoulders down, but it honestly covered almost my entire body. It did its job, even if without any grace.
The sweater, thankfully, fit. Mom had knitted it herself and, from the looks of it, reworked it more times than I'd even thought about going outside. Warm, thick—like it was saying, "I'm here just in case you change your mind."
It was black too. Not exactly a girly color, but I didn't feel like a typical girl anyway.
The rest was where the problems started.
I had to borrow pants from Luisa. Given our height difference, it's no surprise I kept stepping on them, as if trying to stop myself with every step.
The boots were even worse. They reached almost to my thighs and were clearly meant for someone more… confident in their legs. I had to tie them with extra strings just to walk instead of posing like a mannequin.
In the end, I looked weird. But at least warm.
Unlike me, Luisa looked like she'd prepared for winter in advance.
A yellow sweater with a delicate floral pattern peeked out from under a jacket with fur trim on the hood, and everything fit perfectly—no pulling, no sagging, no need for strings or compromises. Her scarf was neatly wrapped around her neck, gloves in place, boots secure with every step.
Next to her, I felt like a scarecrow handed clothes on the principle of "as long as it doesn't freeze."
Something unpleasant tightened in my chest. It felt unfair that Luisa always looked… pretty, no matter what. Even now—I was sure—in my ridiculous outfit, she looked like a kitten peeking out of a sack.
It must be nice when any clothes suit you.
If Luisa hadn't already earned my respect, she definitely had now.
"So, we already have a snowman," Dad said, standing by the door and shamelessly eyeing me.
And whose fault was that?
Of course, some of the blame was mine. But weren't parents supposed to make sure their daughter looked at least… normal?
I sighed and noticed Luisa looking at my reflection while fixing her hair in the mirror. Did even she see a snowman in me? Unable to come up with anything else, I forced a smile. Though in this ridiculous getup, it probably didn't look great either.
"I think Yori looks cute. Like a plushie," Luisa commented, turning back to tuck her hair under her hat.
I didn't know how to react. Even though she clearly wasn't trying to compliment me, she'd called me… cute. Whatever the case, if I blushed now, things would get really weird. So I tensed my cheeks with all my might to prevent it.
"You, on the other hand…"
"You think so?" Dad hunched over me, rubbing his chin as if studying me. "Hmm…"
Of course, how could we go without him… On the other hand, his presence alone helped me preserve the last scraps of my dignity.
"Definitely cuter than you," I said, lightly poking his nose with a smile, making him frown.
"Can't argue with that," he nodded and rubbed the tip of his nose.
"All done. I'm ready," Luisa said, running up to us.
I glanced at Dad one more time and noticed: he was still in a T-shirt. A different one, more worn and old-looking. But a T-shirt. A T-shirt. In winter.
Was he one of those guys who felt fine in shorts even in harsh freezes? Doubt it.
"Dad, where's your jacket?" I asked.
"Don't need one."
For some reason he flexed his arm, slapping his bicep.
By what bizarre logic did muscles make someone more cold-resistant? Well… whatever. It didn't matter.
Let's just say his muscles served as his personal heater.
"Alright."
"Then let's go!" Luisa cried joyfully.
She immediately grabbed our hands and bolted for the door, as if afraid the day would end any second.
I nearly tripped. The boots pulled downward, like I'd put a bucket on each foot, and the floor suspiciously slid under me.
For a moment it felt like if she pulled any harder, I'd just fall apart right in the hallway.
The boots were heavier than my doubts, and Luisa was faster than both.
The door opened—and cold rolled into the house.
Not sharp or mean, but quiet and clingy, like water finding every crack. It immediately slipped under my collar, touched my neck, cheeks, fingertips. I instinctively hunched my shoulders.
My nose tingled, so I tried breathing through my mouth—only for a white puff of vapor to escape immediately. My throat tightened, as if already coating with a thin layer of ice. It felt like I was suffocating. My lips trembled.
Usually this was where my adventures ended, but this time—the door closed behind me, not in my face.
My eyes watered, and blinking got harder with each try.
So this was winter?
Like any adventure, it sounded magical until you actually faced it.
I wasn't ready. It felt like I'd soon become part of the snowy landscape myself. But still…
One step forward. Then another. And another. Wobbling, I left uncertain tracks behind me, accompanied by crunching sounds, like walking over bones.
"Look, look!" Luisa was already stomping ahead, leaving a crooked chain of footprints.
I could only nod. From past experience, I was a little scared to let the cold inside me again. But Dad and Luisa didn't seem bothered at all.
While I carefully picked my way, as if walking on a frozen river, they were already having fun. Their arms were buried in snow up to the elbows. They threw it, rolled it. Laughed without caution.
And one more thing…
"Dad, is there… dirt around you?" I wiggled my fingers to wake them up and pointed at the ground beneath him.
"Ho-ho, you noticed? That's why I don't need clothes. I could go out naked in winter if I wanted."
His casual words reminded me of one incident… No, never mind.
"Please don't."
"I wasn't planning to…" he grumbled, pouting.
I was curious how his body worked, making even the air around him seem warm. And yet he could handle snow without it evaporating. Magic, no doubt.
But I didn't want to stand in the cold for extra minutes listening to his enthusiastic self-praise. Some other time.
"Let's play snowballs!" Luisa suggested and hurled one my way. But… she missed.
"Snowballs?"
"Ah, right. You… Hmm…" She looked at me thoughtfully, brushing snow off her gloves. "I'll teach you," Luisa suddenly sounded like a real expert.
As if snowball fights even had such a thing as expertise. But it just showed how confident she was that she knew everything better.
"Well, if you say so."
It was too cold to argue, so I had to agree.
Under Luisa's guidance, I crouched down and scooped a handful of snow. Cold. My hands didn't take long to turn red as I tried to mold the crystals into something potato-like.
I hadn't tucked my hair under my hat, unlike Luisa. And only outside did I understand why she did. I kept having to fix it so it wouldn't get in my eyes.
And these sleeves…
I had to hold my arms up so they wouldn't slide down.
When I finally managed to shape a somewhat loose ball, Luisa grabbed my shoulder and elbow, adjusting my grip.
"Hold your hand vertical and throw straight forward," she said, stepping back.
I nodded. It'd be silly to throw aimlessly, so I turned toward Dad. He didn't even move. On the contrary, he stood proudly, as if daring me with his whole posture.
"Come on, show me what you've got," he said, taking a deep breath that puffed out his chest, and spread his arms wide.
My arm started moving forward, and in a moment the snowball was released.
I wish I could say that…
The snowball I'd worked so hard to craft didn't even make it halfway—it crumbled, hitting my own sleeve.
I stared at my empty palm. Then at the dangling edge of my coat.
"…"
"Ahahaha," they both laughed.
I'd never been so grateful for the freezing cold. My face was burning with embarrassment, but since it had turned red the moment we stepped outside, I felt a little calmer.
"Now that our third fighter has completed her training… let the battle begin!" Dad shouted and hurriedly hid behind a tree.
My eyes darted to Luisa, but she wasn't standing still either. Her silhouette was rapidly—as much as possible—moving away from me.
My mouth involuntarily fell open, and vapor slowly fogged my vision. My body started shivering in the cold wind, or maybe… from the unfairness.
What training? I couldn't even throw a decent snowball.
But I wasn't going to give up that easily. My fingers clenched. I needed to move. Find cover.
I whipped my head side to side looking for something, but before I could even take a step, the first projectile flew at me.
The snowball hit my shoulder—not hard, but enough to make me flinch.
It was my signal to run. Or fight back. But I physically couldn't. I could barely drag my feet in these boots, and making a snowball took forever.
I exhaled. Just the fact that I wasn't alone gave me the resolve I needed…
Thump.
I stumbled forward. I heard my eyelashes crunch as my eyes widened in disbelief.
Luisa had betrayed me. My resolve crumbled.
Everything happened faster than I could process. My coat was gradually covered in snow, like I was a dog waiting for its owner in a blizzard.
One.
Another.
A third.
First my legs.
Then my torso.
Then my arms.
Little by little, my already heavy clothes became twice as heavy. Snow packed into the folds, pulling me down, and I wasn't sure I could even lift my arm anymore. Feeling like I'd been locked in a cellar, I started shaking.
From a participant in the fight—I'd become a target.
"Bold move calling in a newbie just to mop the floor with her," I grumbled, half-buried in snow. "I'm impressed. Really."
"Ho-ho-ho, no one's born a master—they become one in their first real battle," Dad laughed.
He stepped out from behind the tree—and immediately faltered.
I didn't see it on his face, but in how his shoulders sagged slightly, as if gravity had suddenly pressed down on him.
Why was he suddenly acting so weird? Though when didn't he?
The cold air around me trembled. The snow clinging to my coat stopped weighing me down—instead, it seemed to let go. I felt the heaviness lift: first from my shoulders, then my arms, the hem, the boots.
The snow was melting.
Not falling down, not dripping—it was rising, inviting my gaze to follow.
Droplets gathered above my head, hovering in the air, as if unsure what shape to take. I held my breath. Even the cold retreated, leaving a strange sensation of warm lightness, like after a bath.
"A real battle, huh…?" a calm voice said behind me.
I didn't turn around. I didn't need to. The hero's arrival signal spoke for itself.
The water merged together—smoothly, unhurried, as if it knew exactly what form to take. Outlines stretched, sharpened. Wings unfurled—and color flared within them. Like a clear midday sky.
The bird was translucent, as if carved from light and water. Yet that deep blue glint with every flap left no doubt.
A grandala.
"It's just a game, Emi…" Dad muttered, stepping back.
"True," Mom replied. "And this is just… help."
She smiled—and the bird soared upward.
I only caught how the blue wings grew thinner with each beat until they dissolved into the sky. As if it had reclaimed a lost piece of itself.
For a moment I thought it was over, when suddenly—a sharp whistle of wings sliced the air again.
Dad barely had time to turn. He took one step, two—and vanished from view, collapsing behind a snowdrift as the bird slammed into his back and burst into a splash of cold particles.
Silence returned as suddenly as it had left.
I stood there, blinking slowly, feeling the cold remind me of itself again. The snow under my feet was just ordinary snow. The trees motionless.
But something had changed.
I wasn't entirely sure if it was a victory. And it didn't really matter.
That day, only one thing stuck in my memory: I'd seen a bird. The most beautiful of all.
"Mom, that…"
The moment I turned to her, all words vanished from my head.
The way she stood on the porch, framed by sunlight, brushing hair from her forehead, made her incredibly… beautiful? Graceful? For some reason, either word felt horribly clichéd.
If I think about it, it wasn't the first time Mom had saved me. So what made her so special in this moment? I couldn't quite answer.
She was like a crystal butterfly—breathtaking and deadly at the same time.
"Um… Yori."
I felt a tug on my sleeve and turned. Luisa was standing in front of me. From how her eyes darted, it was clear she was afraid of becoming Mom's next "help" victim.
"Hm?"
"This…"
She carefully placed a snowball in my hand and squeezed her eyes shut. Her mouth clamped so fast her teeth clicked. She seemed to fear I'd immediately hurl it at her face.
To be fair, neither of them had hit me in the head once. Not even by accident. Did Luisa really think I was that vengeful and heartless?
I looked at the snowball, then at Mom—she just shrugged and smiled. She was clearly saying the fate of this ball, and Luisa's, was literally in my hands.
I turned back to Luisa. It wasn't clear if she was shaking more from fear or cold. I even wondered if her cheeks hurt from how tense her face was.
Well… whatever. Time to go home.
I tossed the snowball aside, brushed off my hands, and took Luisa's palm in mine—or rather, her glove. The rough fabric slid against my fingers, but even that was enough for my hand to slowly warm up.
"That's enough for today," I said, squeezing her hand. "Shall we head back?"