The morning sunlight slipped through the curtains the same way it had every day since Akitsu Shouga arrived here.

  That alone still felt strange.

  He woke slowly—not from pain, not from falling, not from the echo of screams tearing through his chest—but from the sound of Aki humming off-key in the kitchen. It was uneven, cheerful, and completely unconcerned with pitch. A moment later, the smell of bread followed, warm and unmistakably real, drifting down the hallway and settling in the room.

  “…Morning already,” Akitsu murmured.

  He sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and stared at his hands resting on the blanket. They were steady. Whole. No blood crusted beneath his nails. No trembling, no lingering ache.

  Just hands.

  “Big brother!” Aki called. “If you don’t come eat, I’m stealing your portion!”

  “I’m coming,” he replied automatically, the words leaving his mouth before he thought about them.

  At the table, his mother moved with a practiced rhythm, setting plates down as though she had done this a thousand times before—and she had. The soft clink of dishes felt grounding.

  “You’re up early today,” she said, glancing at him.

  Akitsu shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  Aki squinted suspiciously. “You say that every day.”

  He smiled faintly. “Do I?”

  “Yep.”

  Breakfast passed in easy, unremarkable chatter. His mother spoke about errands she needed to run later, Aki complained loudly about lessons she insisted were pointless, and Akitsu listened more than he spoke. He let the sounds wash over him, absorbing the normalcy like it might vanish if he blinked too hard.

  When the meal ended, there was a sharp knock at the door.

  Rhen Calder didn’t bother waiting for an answer.

  “Morning!” he said brightly, leaning halfway through the doorway as if he owned the place. “You ready or what?”

  “For…?” Akitsu asked, standing.

  “For today,” Rhen replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re playing with Lemon. And before you ask—yes, he’s still alive.”

  “That implies something happened,” Akitsu said dryly.

  “Barely,” Rhen replied. “He tried to fight my pillow last night.”

  From behind him, Lemon’s small voice piped up, indignant. “It attacked first.”

  Akitsu snorted before he could stop himself.

  “Oh, you’re smiling,” Rhen said, pointing accusingly. “Miracle confirmed.”

  They left together, Lemon riding comfortably in Rhen’s pocket with only his head poking out. The streets were already alive—vendors calling out prices, carts rattling over stone, children weaving through crowds in chaotic games.

  “So,” Rhen said, stretching his arms as they walked. “Forest again? Or market?”

  Akitsu considered it for a moment. “Forest,” he said. “It’s quieter.”

  “Agreed.”

  They passed through the gate, guards nodding at them without a second glance, and entered the greenery once more. The forest welcomed them like an old friend—birds chirping overhead, leaves whispering in the breeze, sunlight dancing between branches in shifting patterns.

  Lemon hopped down from Rhen’s pocket and scurried ahead. “Race you!”

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  “You have tiny legs!” Rhen protested.

  “Skill issue.”

  They laughed and followed after him, slower but amused.

  The tree house waited where it always had. They climbed up and settled on the uneven floorboards, the wood creaking softly beneath them. Rhen swung his legs over the edge, heels tapping against the trunk.

  “You know,” he said casually, staring out into the trees, “I like it when you’re like this.”

  “…Like what?” Akitsu asked.

  “Here. Not staring into space like you’re about to vanish.”

  Akitsu lowered his gaze to his hands again. “I’m trying.”

  “I know.”

  Lemon settled between them. “Humans are strange.”

  “You’re one to talk,” Rhen said. “You’re a talking forest potato.”

  “I am offended.”

  They spent the morning doing nothing important—throwing pebbles into the distance, watching clouds drift lazily by, arguing over things that didn’t matter.

  “They absolutely do,” Rhen insisted. “Dragons are real.”

  “If they were, we’d know,” Akitsu replied calmly.

  “That’s what they want you to think.”

  Lemon nodded solemnly. “I have never seen a dragon.”

  “See?” Akitsu said.

  “However,” Lemon added thoughtfully, “I have never seen the inside of a bakery until yesterday.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything!”

  By noon, hunger caught up with them. They headed back toward the kingdom, stopping at a small stall selling skewered meat that sizzled invitingly.

  “My treat,” Rhen said immediately.

  “You paid last time,” Akitsu replied.

  “And I’ll pay this time too.”

  Akitsu hesitated, then nodded. “Thank you.”

  They sat on the steps near the plaza to eat, Lemon nibbling crumbs with obvious delight.

  “This is good,” Lemon declared. “Much better than wet rocks.”

  “I told you,” Rhen said smugly.

  After lunch, they wandered through the market. Aki spotted Akitsu and immediately ran over, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him toward a booth stacked with colorful ribbons.

  “Which one looks better?” she demanded.

  “Blue,” Akitsu answered without hesitation.

  Rhen leaned in, smirking. “Careful. She’ll make you carry things.”

  Too late.

  By afternoon, they were tired but content. They lay in the grass outside the walls, staring up at the open sky as clouds drifted lazily by.

  “This is nice,” Rhen said quietly.

  “…Yeah,” Akitsu agreed.

  For once, his thoughts didn’t spiral. No counting deaths. No searching for doors that weren’t there. Just the sound of wind moving through grass and distant laughter carried on the breeze.

  As the sun began to dip, Rhen sat up. “Same time tomorrow?”

  Akitsu nodded. “Same time.”

  They parted at the gate. Akitsu walked home alone, the basket empty, his chest feeling strangely full.

  At home, dinner was simple. Laughter filled the room once more, warm and unforced.

  Later, Akitsu stood by his window, watching the sky fade from orange to purple, then slowly into night.

  “…I’ll stay,” he whispered to no one.

  And for now—

  Nothing answered.

  The night passed quietly.