Damon woke to warmth on his chest—not sunlight, but Daichi, curled like a stubborn little guardian. Damon turned his head left. Through the tall castle window, the sun sat already risen, its colors stretched in layered waves across the sky—gold, rose, lavender.
A calm breath left his lips.
"Everything beautiful reminds me of her."
He carefully lifted Daichi off him and rose from bed. He walked to the window shirtless, letting the light hit him directly, warming his still-sleepy skin. The world, for once, felt quiet.
"Daichi," he said softly, "wake up. We're going to see Natsuki."
Daichi shot upright, leaping to the window in one impossible motion.
"We're going to see Natsuki!?"
"We're going to see Natsuki," Damon repeated with a faint smile.
Daichi vibrated with excitement. "How long are we staying?"
"Well… Trineum gave everyone a long break. So we might be there for a while."
Daichi shrank down and hopped onto Damon's head, tail wagging wildly. "Finally! You've taken long enough!"
Damon chuckled.
He dressed cleanly, simply. A long dark coat that moved like it belonged on him. A light shirt, unbuttoned enough to look relaxed. Dark trousers. And the thin bracelet on his wrist—Natsuki's.
Effortless. Calm. Damon.
They stepped into the castle garden, Daichi draped over his shoulders like a living scarf.
"When do we leave?" Daichi whined.
"Calm down. I want to see my mother first. And Rika might want to tag along."
Daichi huffed dramatically.
But on their way, they passed a cavern full of shouting.
Nyra… was in a drinking competition.
Damon stopped. "She's fifteen," he muttered.
One soldier slurred, "Who's gonna stop the fire-breathing princess?"
Another shrugged. "Royalty does what Royalty wants!"
The whole table laughed.
Damon exhaled, walked to the brewer, and dropped gold coins on the counter.
"Don't give those men anymore drinks. If they want more, they'll have to do whatever my sister says."
The brewer twisted his long coiled mustache. "Your wish is my command."
He snapped his fingers. "Celine! Avoid table nine. No more drinks unless the princess demands it."
Celine saluted lazily, "Aye-aye, captain!"
A man reached for her arm—she punched him instantly. Then raised her cup at Damon like a victorious pirate.
Damon turned to the bartender. "Why's everyone dressed so differently here?"
"Oh—no, no," the man said. "The clothes aren't different. Yours are a mix of Earth and Woewyn's style. But it suits you."
"Hm. Thank you."
He asked for Draven. Thorpax pointed him toward Lagalith.
Damon found him under the ancient tree—a towering trunk streaked with emerald and black. Its bark was etched with spirals that moved subtly under sunlight.
In the middle of the trunk:
'Draven & Velmira'
Carved deeply as if the tree itself had swallowed their names into its memory, the markings glowing faintly green.
Damon stepped quietly closer, hands in his pockets. Sunlight caught on Natsuki's bracelet on his wrist.
A stone pillar sat at the base of the tree, engraved:
Velmira Enothalia
Dawn of the Seventh
Draven knelt before it, holding a single green flower. "Everything about her was beautiful," he said softly. "Down to her name."
Damon didn't speak. Neither did Daichi.
A single tear fell from Draven's eye, catching sunlight like a crystal shard as it slid down.
"She'd tell me to stop crying by now. 'Dry up, Raven.' A name she gave me."
His voice didn't break. It didn't need to.
He turned his head slightly, speaking into the open air.
"Do you know why she was called the Dawn of the Seventh, Damon?"
"No," Damon answered gently. "Why?"
"Because the Seventh Dawn appears every thousand years. A beacon of hope before a great calamity." A soft, bitter laugh. "Only, the calamity… was hers."
Draven rose, brushing dirt from his knee. When he looked at Damon, he wore a small smile—tired, but warm.
"You, Chosen One… are Dawn of the Eighth. Dawns have existed for eight thousand years. And there hasn't been one like you."
Damon inhaled slowly. Looked away. Then—
"Draven, will you—"
"I'll be fine, Damon," Draven cut in gently. "Trust me."
No forced smile. No faked strength. Just the quiet, like the steady resolve of an older brother who refuses to hand his pain to someone else.
"You don't need to carry this one for me."
He walked past Damon, then turned to wave. Damon waved back.
Daichi whispered, "Do you think he'll be okay?"
"She's only gone temporarily," Damon answered. "He'll see her again. That's enough hope for anyone… even him."
They returned to the castle—finding Queen Thessa and Bravira drinking from barrels like war-sisters reunited.
"I'm surprised mom isn't drunk," Damon thought. "Not surprised Bravira isn't though."
"Damon!" Bravira called. "Throw me another barrel!"
He grabbed one, turned, and tossed it easily. Bravira caught it with one hand.
"Why are you playing dress-to-impress?" Thessa teased.
"Mom, these are literally just the clothes you put in my closet."
"You know you could've left already."
"Yeah… but Natsuki would kill me if she found out I didn't check on everything first."
Bravira smirked. "I will spar with her someday. It will be glorious."
Damon blinked.
"…I hope she means girl talk. Maybe that's just how she speaks." he thought.
He glanced at Bravira resting her head on her hand, looking unexpectedly feminine as she listened to Thessa.
"I'll get going," Damon said. "I'll see you when school starts."
"Don't forget to train," they said together.
"Can you open a portal?" Thessa asked.
"Yeah," Damon replied. "I paid Tolrex a visit."
Damon walked to the ocean, the morning fully alive now. It was after sunrise. The sky a bright canvas of gold and blue.
The water mirroring it in gentle waves.
Dark birds flew overhead, shadows cutting across the sand.
Damon stood still, letting the warmth sink into him.
Between worlds.
Between thoughts.
Between what he had to be… and what he wished he could be.
His portal opened—purple and gold swirling together.
"Hm. Mine's purple and gold."
He stepped through, landing on Earth.
"Damn… that took a lot of energy."
Christmas music echoed faintly. Snow drifted all around.
"Merry Christmas, Daichi."
Daichi stared intensely at a man's steak. When the man noticed, he quickly walked away.
"Daichi. Calm down," Damon laughed.
They headed toward Natsuki's house—
And that's when they saw her.
Walking toward them. Head down.
Snow swirling softly around her.
And Damon froze.
Snow drifted gently in slow spirals, soft enough to make the whole street feel like a dream.
She looked… unfairly good.
Natsuki walked through the falling snow with her head down, scarf covering half her face, blonde curls spilling from her beanie. She looked warm, cute, and completely unaware that he was ten steps away.
Damon using his super hearing, listened.
"I just wished for Damon to come home," she murmured to herself. "I guess there's no such thing as San—"
She looked up. Stopped.
Daichi barked once—"Ta"—and that was all it took.
Natsuki sprinted at him.
She jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Damon caught her instantly, one arm around her back, pulling her in like the reunion he'd been waiting months for. Daichi hopped down, watching them like a proud little wolf.
They stayed like that, silent, holding on.
Then she lifted her head and kissed him—soft, needy, like she'd been saving that moment in her heart every single day he was gone. Damon kissed her back, deeper, smiling against her lips when she teared up.
"You've grown taller," she whispered.
"You've grown prettier," he answered without hesitation.
She blushed hard.
"Do you believe in Santa now?" he teased.
"Shut up, dummy."
Silence.
"I missed you, D."
"I missed you too, Natsu."
He kissed her again, and this time a small warmth slipped from him into her—fire, gentle as a breath. It spread through her chest, making her gasp.
"You… warmed me…"
"Guess fire's good for more than fighting."
Daichi huffed loudly. "Yeah, let's pretend the wolf is invisible."
Natsuki giggled and picked him up in his small wolf form, scratching his belly. He barked like wolves did. Damon translated, "He said he missed your paws."
She kissed Daichi's nose. "Aww, baby."
They walked through the snow toward her favorite restaurant. Damon asked, "Do they take gold?"
Natsuki burst out laughing. "No, you don't pay here during Christmas. It's 'free for all', remember?"
"Oh. Right."
Inside, Daichi devoured his bowls like a tiny hungry beast. Natsuki and Damon shared plates, feeding each other between giggles.
Then came the noodles.
They sat close on the couch, one bowl between them, steam rising. Both twirled their chopsticks. Both caught the same noodle strand. Then continued eating it.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer—
Their lips brushed.
Natsuki burst into a tiny embarrassed laugh. Damon laughed with her, touching his forehead to hers, then kissed her properly—warm, slow, a perfect "we're home" kiss.
The waitress walked by. "You two eat like you haven't seen food in centuries. Or is it all three of you?" Daichi didn't even look up, too focused on meat.
Later, Natsuki suddenly smirked, popping a piece of crayfish into her mouth.
Damon narrowed his eyes. "What are you planning?"
"Come here and find out."
He sighed, leaning in. Their lips met. Slow. Sweet.
Then—
his eyes widened as she pushed the crayfish into his mouth with her tongue.
She pulled back, trying not to explode with laughter.
Damon chewed with a betrayed expression.
"I hate crayfish."
"I know."
He swallowed anyway, still holding her waist.
"But if it's from you… I'll eat it."
Her cheeks turned pink.
He leaned in, whispering against her lips, "Don't ever do that again."
She kissed him again anyway.
They stepped outside into the snow, Daichi asleep on Damon's head like a fluffy winter hat. Natsuki slipped her hand into Damon's, leaning into him as they walked through the quiet neighborhood streets.
The snow kept falling softly, but Damon sensed her Ki flicker—tight, controlled, like she was swallowing something down.
He slowed.
"Natsuki… what's wrong?"
She stiffened, surprised he noticed. "N-no, everything's fine."
"Natsu," he said gently, turning to face her, "You know you can tell me."
She let out a shaky breath.
"While you were gone," she murmured, eyes lowered, "I've been thinking and…"
She hesitated, then looked him in the eyes.
"My love for you is like… a weapon. And you're always pointing it at me. I should feel safe but instead—sometimes I feel like I could break."
Damon stepped closer, his voice dropping to a soft, steady calm.
"Natsuki… do you think I don't love you?"
She shook her head fast. "I know you do, but—"
"No buts," he said gently but firmly. "If I love you, that love is a weapon. And every time you point it at me, I trust you not to hurt me. That's trust. And I need you to trust me the same way."
Her hands folded together, trembling slightly, and she looked away.
Damon lifted her chin with one finger, tilting her face toward his.
Moonlight shimmered in her purple eyes.
His expression softened, tender and warm.
"Give me the same trust I give you," he whispered. "For me."
She leaned into his touch, rubbing her cheek into his palm, almost instinctively seeking him.
"I trust you," she whispered. "I just… needed to hear you say it. I'm sorry."
Damon's hand slid around her waist, pulling her close.
"You don't have any competition," he murmured. "Not from anyone. Not from anything. You come before all of it."
Her breath caught.
"I'd die for you just to make sure you get all you deserve." he added softly.
She tensed at that—too fast for him to miss. Then she grabbed his hand, holding it between hers, pressing it against her heart.
His voice carried care, calm, and soft admiration. But Natsuki's expression shifted. She took his hand from her face, holding it between both of hers.
"Would you live, for me?"
The words shattered Damon's world. He realized he had always thought of death as inevitable — that his sacrifice was worth it if she gained everything. But he had never truly imagined *living* with her.
Her voice was genuine, her body moving closer until only a breath separated them.
"Would you live… with me? When you say you'd die for me, it just means you've already accepted death. But have you thought about life...with me? Not just in dreams — but as something real?"
She pressed her forehead against his, her hand sliding to the back of his neck, pulling him down to her level. Her tone was commanding, but soothing.
"You're not dying. You won't. Starting today, we live for each other. No more negative *ifs*. Do you understand me?"
Damon's chest tightened, but her words steadied him. He answered softly, "Yes, ma'am."
They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other, breaths mingling with the cold.
"I need my Sun," he murmured.
"And I need my Dawn," she whispered back.
They both smiled and blushed like idiots.
She kissed his forehead—reverent.
He kissed her nose—sealing the promise they just made.
"Carry me home," she whispered.
Damon swept her up into his arms without hesitation. She hooked her arms around his neck and tucked her head under his chin, and he carried her through the snow as if she weighed nothing.
When they reached her door, he nudged it open with his elbow.
"Are your parents home?" he murmured, voice low against her ear.
"They're still out," she whispered. "And Haruto's asleep. So… we're alone."
Damon smiled, a slow, predatory warmth spreading across his face. He set her down, but kept one hand resting intimately on her hip. "Then let's use this to our advantage."
"Oh? And what advantage would that be, Prince Damon?" she challenged, her purple eyes alight with mischief.
"The advantage of being extremely, aggressively hungry," he countered, pulling out his desperation card.
Natsuki laughed, wrapping her arms around his torso. "I think I can help with that. Cinnamon rolls?"
He blinked.
"…Yeah. Let's bake cinnamon rolls."
She giggled, pulling him into the warm kitchen.