The sun was already high when Haruto woke up. The festival had ended the night before, and the bakery still smelled faintly of sweet bread and lantern smoke. Outside, the fields shimmered under the soft morning light.
Haruto sat up, rubbed his eyes, and stretched. He felt calm, like his heart was full after everything that happened yesterday. He thought about the laughter, the dancing, the lanterns glowing like stars—and how peaceful it had been to walk home with Kaori and Ren.
But then something caught his eye.
On the small wooden table by his bed sat the white flower—the one the little girl had given him weeks ago by the bridge. He had placed it in a small glass of water back then. He expected it to dry up, but it hadn't.
It still looked fresh as the day he got it.
In fact… it looked brighter.
Morning at the Bakery.
Downstairs, Kaori was already baking. The smell of dough and cinnamon filled the room.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," she said when Haruto came down. "I thought you you'd sleep until noon after all that dancing."
Haruto laughed. "I wasn't that bad."
Ren, sitting by the window fixing a wooden basket, grinned. "You stepped on Kaori's foot twice."
Kaori crossed her arms. "Make that three times."
They all laughed, and for a moment everything felt normal. But Haruto couldn't stop thinking about the flower upstairs.
As they worked, his mind kept wandering. He wanted to tell Kaori and Ren about it—but it sounded silly. A flower that didn't fade? It would sound like a story for children. So he stayed quiet.
The day passed slowly. Customers came and went, the bread sold out one by one, and by afternoon the bakery grew quiet again.
Kaori took off her apron and said, "Let's rest a bit. Ren, can you check the beehives later?"
Ren nodded. "I'll go after lunch."
Haruto offered, "I'll go with you."
Kaori smiled. "You two make a good team."
They shared a simple meal—bread, soup, and honey—then went outside. The fields behind the bakery were wide and calm, with tall grass waving gently in the wind.
Ren walked ahead, humming softly, while Haruto followed, carrying a small bucket.
The bees buzzed lazily around the hives. The golden fields stretched far into the distance, and the river glimmered faintly beyond the trees. Haruto felt at peace.
But then…he noticed something strange.
By the edge of the field, near an old oak tree, he saw a faint shimmer—like light bending in the air. It wasn't bright, just a soft glow that came and went, as if the sunlight was caught in something invisible.
"Ren," Haruto said, pointing. "Do you see that?"
Ren looked up, squinting. "Hmm? The light? Probably the river reflecting. It happens sometimes."
Haruto nodded slowly, though he wasn't sure. The glow didn't feel like sunlight. It had a strange, calm rhythm—like it was breathing.
When he blinked, it was gone.
He shook his head and smiled to himself. "Maybe I'm just tired."
Ren chuckled. "You? You've been working too hard since you got here. Take a day off sometime."
They finished checking the hives, then walked back together. But Haruto kept glancing back at that spot, half-expecting to see the shimmer again.
He didn't.
That night, after dinner, Kaori and Ren went to bed early. Haruto stayed awake a little longer, sitting by the small window in his room.
The moonlight poured across the floor, soft and silver. The white flower on the table glowed faintly again—just a little, enough to make him stare.
He picked it up carefully. It felt cool to the touch, like morning dew.
"How are you still alive?" he whispered. "You should've wilted by now.."
The petals gave off a faint, pulsing light—not strong, not scary, just gentle. Like it was breathing along with him.
For a moment, Haruto felt a strange warmth in his chest. Not fear, not confusion—just a quiet sense that this flower was…connected to him somehow.