November 5th:
In the depths of darkness,
I always find myself crying for no reason, alone in this place, with pain gripping my heart.
As if I've lost something important—something precious to me—but no matter how hard I try, I can't remember what it is. No matter how much I scream or cry, this sadness and pain refuse to disappear.
That's when I began to run through the snowstorm, like a madman with no direction, as if I were running away from something.
Yet the pain clung to me throughout that seemingly endless path.
There, I saw a stone statue of someone—I didn't know who it was—but the moment I saw it, tears started pouring down my face, and my heart felt like it was going to burst from the rapid pounding.
He had been kind. He had been gentle. He had been wise. He had been intelligent.
My tears dried as I wept for him, and I began peeling the stone with my bare hands, as if searching for someone trapped inside. But all I found was a pile of stone.
And with that, the sorrow ended.
And the dream faded…
---
Beneath the serene night sky, bathed in moonlight,
three figures sat around a small campfire, surrounded by pine trees dripping with rain.
One of them—smiling—placed a pot on the fire and began adding spices to the meal.
In front of him sat a young man with jet-black hair, silent and still.
Despite his torn shirt and ragged clothes that offered no warmth, the chill of midnight didn't seem to affect him.
The cook had tried several times to start a conversation, but the black-haired boy didn't respond, didn't even seem to listen.
Still, the aroma of the food forced him to glance over, no matter how much he tried to look away.
His dull, tired eyes kept stealing peeks into the pot. His body, covered in wounds, cried for nourishment to heal, and he couldn't hide the loud growls of his stomach—deprived of real food for weeks.
This made the cook chuckle softly.
"Seems like your stomach spoke before your mouth. You're one stubborn guy.
But you'll have to wait a bit longer—it still needs a few more ingredients."
Just as the black-haired boy tried to hide his embarrassment, the third one suddenly woke from sleep in a panic, his face filled with terror.
The other two turned to him. Tears were streaming down his face.
The cook rushed to ask what was wrong, more surprised by the tears than anything.
But the white-haired boy quickly wiped them away.
"I'm fine," he muttered.
Suddenly, both the black-haired and white-haired boys stood up.
Without a word, they faced each other—ready to fight.
Their expressions were blank and cold, like this was something they did every day.
The third one was stunned.
He couldn't let them kill each other—not after healing them, not before at least hearing a "thank you."
"Are you two machines or what? Why are you so set on killing each other? Is this some kind of personal grudge?"
The white-haired boy was barely standing—his injuries, his hunger, and the cold were too much.
Rising so quickly had made him dizzy, and his hastily bandaged wounds reopened.
The pain consumed him, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Even so, he had stood, eyes filled with fire, eager for battle.
The black-haired boy barely turned toward the cook, answering him without moving his face.
"What does it matter to you? You're a stranger. This isn't your business."
"If I see two people trying to kill each other, isn't it natural to at least ask why? Maybe there's a way to stop it."
The black-haired one sneered.
"Stop us? After watching us fight for a full day? What makes you think you understand anything about us?"
The cook's eyes narrowed.
"You knew I was there?"
"Of course. There were four of you watching us. You and the smoke chose to step in. The other two left.
It's funny, isn't it? Was watching us fight really that entertaining?
Anyway, you've done enough. You and that smoke. If you're satisfied, leave. This doesn't concern you."
The cook looked at the white-haired boy—now collapsed and bleeding again.
He knelt beside him, smiling.
"You're right. I wasn't going to get involved anyway. I was just curious.
But how about this—why not eat first? You're both injured. Neither of you has eaten in a week.
I managed to bandage your wounds because I was lucky to find supplies in the rubble.
The nearest city is 30 km away. If those wounds reopen, I doubt either of you will survive."
The black-haired one clenched his fist.
"I appreciate your concern… but I can still fight."
"Maybe you can. But your friend has reached his limit."
He gently tapped the unconscious white-haired boy, and he slumped further, out cold.
"See? I'm not forcing anything. I just don't want this food to go to waste.
Besides, isn't it nice to make friends once in a while?"
Reluctantly, the black-haired one sat down.
Even he couldn't ignore the exhaustion and hunger.
---
The night was peaceful, the fire warm, and the smell of food comforting.
The two boys sat apart, their faces hollow with fatigue and grief.
The cook stirred the pot.
"I've heard that food cooked over fire tastes better than any home meal, haha."
The joke fell flat.
"Alright, maybe I'm not good at jokes…"
He sighed, stirring faster.
"Let's introduce ourselves at least. I'm Akane Itsuki. I'm 18. And you?"
He asked the white-haired boy.
"Raite Haizaki. Same age."
"Haizaki, huh? Nice to meet you.
And you?"
The black-haired boy hesitated. His eyes narrowed.
"There's no harm in sharing a name, right?" Itsuki added with a friendly tone.
"…Titus," he said, his voice trembling.
Itsuki's face changed instantly. For a second, he looked angry. But then he smiled again.
"Titus? That's a unique name. I had an old friend with that name."
The black-haired one looked around nervously.
"I'm sorry. That was a lie… My name is Hayami Toki. I'm 19. Probably."
Haizaki noticed the unease in Hayami's voice.
Itsuki smiled gently.
"Names are meant to identify us. Our parents choose them with meaning.
Sometimes they're names of flowers, or animals, or virtues.
Most people are proud of their names. But sometimes, they can feel like a curse."
That hit Hayami hard.
"Anyone can start over. That includes names.
If hearing your name brings you pain, give yourself a new one.
I think… I'll give you both new names."
Both boys reacted with surprise.
"What? Isn't this just a game?" Haizaki asked.
"Yeah, but everyone reaches a point where they want to forget everything and begin again."
Itsuki thought for a moment, then pointed to Haizaki.
"You'll be Yule from now on."
Then to Hayami,
"And you'll be Hiro.
What do you think? I think I'm great at naming people!"
"…Wasn't this supposed to be a game?"
"Hiro? That's… weird. But… I kind of like it."
A faint smile appeared on Hayami's face.
Haizaki—now Yule—was shocked to see it.
"Hey! Even you're smiling? That's kind of gross, honestly."
"…Huh!? You got a problem with my face, you royal mutt! You ever looked in a mirror?"
"Oh, shut up, you pointy-eared twig. I'll snap your horns off and stick them in your eyes."
Itsuki burst into laughter, watching them bicker over nonsense.
For a moment, they forgot everything and just laughed.
But then Yule bent over, clutching his stomach in pain.
"Is the food ready yet? I'm starving."
"Rabbit takes time to cook, be patient."
"I don't get it. Why am I this hungry? Is it the blood loss?"
"No. You were both unconscious for seven days.
I managed to get you water, but food… Well, I tried my best."
They were stunned.
Seven days. He had cared for them alone, in the cold, without shelter.
They both wondered… Why? Why would someone go to such lengths for strangers?
تابع الترجمة الاحترافية الكاملة:
---
They both looked at him, their thoughts clear on their faces. Itsuki noticed but chose not to say anything.
He grabbed an empty bowl and began serving the food.
"With these limited ingredients, I did my best. I hope you like it."
Each of them took their bowl and began to eat slowly.
With each spoonful, a spark of joy returned to their faces. They hadn't expected it to taste this good.
Like a warm soup on a cold winter night by the fireplace, surrounded by family.
That quiet, safe warmth sank into their hearts, too overwhelming for them to resist.
Yule, stunned by the emotion, felt tears well up in his eyes as joy flooded his face.
Hiro, on the other hand, looked down at his bowl, as if rejecting this unwarranted kindness.
Once Yule finished, he wiped his tears and said:
"This is strange. It's just a bowl of soup with meat… but I've never tasted anything like it in my life."
"You're exaggerating now. But hey—some say hunger is the secret ingredient that makes any food taste better.
Still, I won't deny I'm a first-class cook. You should be grateful to taste one of my dishes."
"He was just waiting to brag," Hiro thought, rolling his eyes.
Yule chuckled and agreed, "You're right. This meal deserves to be served in castles and five-star restaurants."
But Hiro couldn't enjoy the moment fully.
His guilt lingered, especially for how coldly he had treated Itsuki earlier.
Finally, he asked the question that had been burning in his mind.
"…Why are you doing all this?
We're not worth your kindness. We might end up trying to kill each other again in a few hours.
Why go through all this trouble—healing us, feeding us… What's your goal?"
Itsuki paused, clearly thinking. Yule also seemed eager to know the answer.
But Itsuki simply said:
"I'm not telling you."
"…Huh?"
"Earlier, you said this wasn't my business and told me to stay out of it.
Now it's the same for me. What I do isn't your business either."
"What!? That's not the same! My reasons were different—besides, I'm not the only one involved—"
Itsuki cut him off with a smile.
"I know. I was joking. No need to get so worked up."
"…Sorry."
Itsuki looked up at the sky, his expression calm.
"Do we really need a reason to do something?
We were all born free to choose between good and evil.
Some choose darkness…
And I chose kindness."
He continued, his voice more serious now.
"But how can I know if helping you was the right thing?
Maybe you'll both choose evil in the future, and then I'll have helped bring more pain to this world.
Or maybe… maybe you'll choose to do good.
And then, I'll have helped two souls who might go on to help many more.
Everyone has the power to change. Everyone can start over.
No one—not even themselves—can stop that."
Those words hit Hiro deeply.
He had always worn a mask of pain and misery, like he was the only one suffering.
But now, he realized he could also be free of his chains.
"But honestly," Itsuki said, shrugging, "I just felt sorry for you. You were starving.
I didn't want to interfere—I just thought maybe I could give you a short break. That's all."
Silence fell over the group.
None of them knew what to say.
So Itsuki spoke again.
"Anyway, how about a little game?"
"…A game?" Yule asked.
"Yeah. Let's say I'm the wisest person in the world.
You can ask me anything—anything you want to know."
Yule's eyes lit up.
He had been waiting for this.
"…Then tell me.
What's the point of this life?
This empty, dull existence.
Why should I go on living?"
He lowered his head, desperation plain in his voice.
Itsuki raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the depth of the question.
Even Hiro leaned in, clearly interested.
Itsuki laughed softly.
"What's the meaning of life, huh?
Well…
No matter what you are—beast, immortal, or god—
you'll face the same ending: death.
Good, evil, powerful, forgotten—everyone fades into the same silence.
Their names become stories told to children, and then even those stories fade.
So what's the point? Why suffer just to die?"
Both boys nodded solemnly.
"But maybe… we're asking the wrong question.
Instead of 'Why should we live?'
Shouldn't we ask,
'Why were we born in the first place?'"
Yule frowned.
"…Isn't that the same question?"
"No.
It matters where you start.
Not 'Why live,'
But 'Why were we created?'
All of us were born without knowing our purpose.
Some die without ever even wondering about it.
But look around.
This world—every atom, every star—is built with such precision, such perfection.
From the tiniest cell to the farthest galaxy, everything is crafted with care.
Is it really logical to believe all of this just… exists by accident?"
The first rays of dawn spilled across the sky.
Itsuki stood, the sun shining in his eyes.
Both Hiro and Yule sat, captivated by his words.
"So what are you saying?" Yule asked.
"What are we here for?"
Itsuki looked at them and answered plainly:
"There is a Creator—
a force that made everything, controls everything.
A will beyond ours.
The mere fact that you exist is proof enough."
Hiro was overwhelmed.
"…If that's true, then what's the purpose we were created for?"
The fire crackled softly between them as Itsuki packed his things.
Both boys felt that this peaceful moment—the warmth, the food, the talk—was coming to an end.
As he turned to leave, Itsuki finally said the words they had been waiting to hear.
"You're right to ask.
That is the purpose of life—
To seek out and understand the One who created us.
To discover why we were made."
Hiro quickly finished the last of his food, hanging onto every word.
"But don't think it will be easy.
You'll suffer. You'll lose people.
You may face death more than once.
But when you finally find that truth—
You'll understand the meaning of life itself."
He paused, then asked:
"Any other questions before I go?"
"…Yeah," Hiro said, "That smoke… what was that thing?"
Itsuki froze, his expression going cold.
"I don't recommend looking into it.
Let's just say… that smoke was the King of the Earth.
Or at least, a fragment of it.
As for what the King of the Earth truly is—that's another matter.
All you need to know is:
You cannot deal with it.
Not even I can stop it."
"Huh?" Yule frowned. "That makes no sense.
From what I saw, you had the upper hand."
"That's only because it was playing.
Attacking at random is the last thing that creature would do."
He turned, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"Anyway… don't worry too much about it.
It probably won't come after you again.
I don't know if you enjoyed the meal, but…
I haven't cooked for anyone in a long time. So thanks."
Both boys lowered their heads in silence.
He could see the emotion in their faces—was it guilt?
Or sorrow that this strange, kind boy was leaving?
Itsuki smiled.
"Stop with the sad faces already. You're not kids.
We never know when goodbyes will come.
Life is like that. Nothing ever goes as we expect."
He paused.
"You might be thinking you'll never meet anyone who understands you like I did—
someone with the answers you've been searching for.
But who knows?
We might die before the sun sets today.
Or… we might meet someone who changes our lives."
He started to walk away.
"Don't die too quickly, alright?
And remember—
No good ever comes from the King of the Earth."
---
The two boys stood in silence, watching him disappear into the distance.
For a while, they said nothing.
Then one of them broke the silence:
"…He called us friends. Twice."
"What kind of friends try to kill each other?"
"…What a weird guy. But…
Those words… they really saved me."
"Tell me, Hiro. What do you think we should do?"
"…Hiro? I'm Hayami."
"I know. But like Itsuki said—
anyone can start over at any time.
Hayami was the guy I wanted to kill.
But right now, there's only Hiro here."
Hayami paused, then nodded slowly.
"…That doesn't mean we have to be friends.
But I don't mind the idea.
And I don't want all of Itsuki's efforts to go to waste.
So… I'll at least try to do what he asked.
To repay his kindness."
He extended his hand.
"Goodbye, Yule. Good luck."
Yule smiled, accepting both the name and the farewell.
"…Goodbye, Hiro."
And with that, they walked their separate paths,
leaving behind all the reasons that once held them back.
Each heading toward a brand new beginning.