At first, Miyu counted the days.
She marked each sunrise as if it might be her last, expecting the growl of the Impala outside, the hunters storming through Melinda's door.
But the days became weeks. The weeks slipped into months.
And slowly, fear gave way to routine.
---
Spring
Miyu learned how to cook—badly at first, setting off the smoke alarm more than once. Melinda only laughed, waving the smoke away. Eventually, Miyu mastered pancakes, then stews, and by summer she could bake bread that filled the house with warmth.
She planted flowers in the garden, her tendrils gently pressing seeds into the soil. She named each bloom as it sprouted, as if giving them a piece of herself.
For the first time, her shadows no longer frightened her. They became tools, helpers, extensions of her that worked alongside her hands.
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Summer
Melinda took her to the town fair, dressing her in a sundress and a wide hat to hide her strange eyes. Miyu felt like a child, clutching Melinda's hand, overwhelmed by the laughter, the lights, the dizzying whirl of rides.
For a moment, she forgot who she was.
She laughed.
That night, she admitted softly, "I never knew what joy felt like."
Melinda only hugged her tighter.
---
Autumn
Leaves fell in rivers of red and gold, and Miyu walked with Melinda through the quiet cemetery where she often helped restless spirits cross over.
When Miyu asked if the spirits ever hated Melinda for seeing them, Melinda answered gently, "Sometimes. But more often, they're just afraid. Like you were."
Miyu looked at the gravestones, her many eyes blinking slowly. "I think… I understand them."
That night, she whispered to the empty dark, "If there's anyone still watching me… I'm sorry."
---
Winter
Snow blanketed the world, and Miyu sat by the fire with Melinda, drinking hot cocoa for the first time. Her shadows curled lazily around the mug, warming it.
When the clock struck midnight on New Year's Eve, Melinda raised her glass of sparkling cider. "To survival. To second chances."
Miyu hesitated, then clinked her glass gently against Melinda's. "To… life."
And for a brief, fleeting moment, she felt human.
---
The year passed like a dream Miyu was terrified to wake from. She laughed, cooked, planted, walked, learned. Her scars faded, though not all.
For one whole year, she wasn't a failed experiment, or a hunted monster, or a girl wrapped in shadows.
She was just Miyu.
Melinda's quiet companion.
A girl who finally got to live.
But deep inside, Miyu knew: borrowed peace never lasted forever.
And somewhere beyond the horizon, the hunters still searched.