"It's been a long time…" Shirakawa Hibiki's voice was slightly hoarse.
He had thought he was utterly alone—
But Mei Rokuro had returned.
Later, you learned from Mei that when she found you lying broken on the battlefield, your life force had almost been extinguished. Yet, thanks to a trace of preservation power within you, she managed to stabilize your condition. After days of treatment and half a month of deep slumber, you finally awakened—safe, though scarred.
Together with Mei, you returned to your hometown. Carrying your parents' belongings, you kept vigil at their graves for seven days. During that long week, Mei stayed by your side.
But you noticed she had changed. Her beauty had grown serene, ethereal, like a figure carved from mist—yet her presence carried a subtle coldness, as if she had distanced herself from the world.
On the seventh day, you brought a flask of wine to your father's resting place—the very man who had never allowed you a sip in life. You opened the jar and drank with him.
As a child sneaking a taste, you had thought wine bitter, empty, unpleasant.
But now, with time and grief in your heart, the burn and sting lingered on your tongue like an old friend.
It was the twelfth lunar month. The city streets, once teeming with life, had become a cemetery of silence. Only plum blossoms defied the winter frost, blooming stubbornly in the snow. When you were a boy, even your parents would return each New Year's Eve to be with you. This year, no one came back.
In the dilapidated courtyard, Hibiki sat upon a broken wall, his wine flask raised high. The liquor burned down his throat, suppressing the storm within his chest.
"There's no moonlight tonight," a soft voice came—
"What are you thinking about?"
It was Mei Rokuro, her apricot-like eyes cast upward toward him.
"Nothing… just lonely, drinking alone," Hibiki said with a faint smile.
"Then come down."
"…Why?"
"I can share a drink with you."
He paused, then chuckled faintly.
"This wine is strong."
"Just a taste is enough. Everything begins somewhere."
Her face was calm, her words unjoking.
Something in her eyes—clear, pure, and unfathomable—compelled him.
"Very well," Hibiki replied softly. "Let's go to the pavilion. It's too cold out here."
The two walked in silence until they reached a stone pavilion facing a blooming plum tree. The incense burner was still lit; pastries and tea rested on the table.
Hibiki poured wine into a teacup until it was one-third full and slid it across the table.
"Please."
Mei's fingers gently pinched the cup. She raised it to her lips and sipped lightly, as though tasting tea.
At once, she coughed softly.
Hibiki laughed.
"See? I told you—it's strong."
But Mei only steadied herself, then lifted the remaining half-cup and downed it in one gulp.
A faint blush painted her snow-white cheeks as the chill alcohol coursed through her. Hibiki only watched, silently.
Mei lowered the cup, her gaze resting steadily upon him.
"The lips and tongue are most sensitive. With pastries, to be considered excellent, just a small bite reveals everything. I think wine is the same. A tiny sip is enough. To drink it like this—alone—it must mean there's something heavy in your heart, Hibiki."
Her voice grew certain.
"I don't know what you desire. But if it is a 'reward,' I can grant anything within my power."
The weight in her words stilled Hibiki's hand midair. Slowly, he lowered the flask. His lips curved bitterly.
"Then… can you give me a hug?"
Mei froze a moment, then her face softened into solemnity.
She rose and stepped to his side, her slender arms wrapping around him gently.
The courtyard fell utterly silent, snow whispering down onto the plum tree's branches. Mei's touch was warm, steady, comforting.
"These three years," she murmured, stroking his back, "I know you've endured more than anyone should. With everyone you loved gone, you buried everything in bitter wine, never daring to speak. It must have been exhausting.
If this hug can serve as your reward, then… please, allow yourself to cry."
Since she had saved him that day, Mei had never witnessed him cry—not even before his parents' graves.
He looked too broken for tears. Too numb, as though despair itself had stolen the courage to weep.
It reminded her of a child who holds back his tears before strangers… but once safe in his mother's arms, allows himself to sob freely.
Now, Hibiki had finally found someone he could lean on.
His nose stung, a burning ache rising in his chest. The warmth of her embrace unlocked that part of him he thought long buried.
For a moment, he was that boy again—tucked beneath his mother's shade—his tears flowing without shame.
Afterward, with Mei by your side, you spent your last Spring Festival in that city.
At eighteen, you left your homeland with her, journeying to the world where Uncle Rokuro and Aunt Megumi were conducting their research.
There, they held a lavish coming-of-age ceremony for you, just as though you were their own son. They hoped to see you rise anew from grief's shadow.
In the days that followed, you finally realized your childhood dream: stepping onto the path of life science. Though lacking formal systematic training, the Institute's researchers saw your striking aptitude.
Yet soon you discovered the truth—Mei Rokuro had already reached heights no ordinary scholar could even fathom. While others studied external life forms, she had pioneered creation itself: cultivation, reorganization, and reproduction. She had achieved the genesis of life.
Shocked by the vast gulf between you, you drove yourself twice as hard—organizing every document, mastering every fragment of knowledge. Within months, your progress astonished even the Institute's seniors.
At nineteen, your relentless work bore fruit. You became the only one capable of even keeping pace with Mei. As such, you were appointed her assistant.
Perhaps it was your brilliance, perhaps your increasingly handsome bearing and refined temperament, but many young women at the Institute confessed to you. On inspection trips to other worlds, local women admired you as well.
All were politely declined.
From each encounter, though, your concept of love grew clearer. And on Mei Rokuro's nineteenth birthday…
You resolved to confess your true feelings.