Part I - Summer - "We made it home."

For the young, pre-university Cameron Callihan, interpersonal relationships and dynamics never interested him quite as much as the rational, logical, rule-bound world of crystal technology. Math, physics, engineering … Formulas and equations. The domain of predictable, reproducible processes. That was what he liked. It was what he was good at.

And given that he was the son, the only child, of two crystal engineers … Well, now—how could he have turned out any other way?

By age ten, Cameron was already building small crystal-powered contraptions. Over the next few years he continued learning, refining his works. In middle and high school, some of them even won him second and third place in his school's competitions.

He had a few friends, and he got along fine with his classmates, but his studies and fascination with crystal technology left little time for any proper socializing. As a result, when he entered Crystal Academy, he did so with zero romantic experience.

… Although, it wasn't like he was Heinrich, or anything nearly that dismal (H: "Wow. 'Dismal'? Really? Hey. I seriously resent that." C: "Sorry. I mean … it's nothing personal." H: "HOW CAN I NOT TAKE THAT PERSONALLY, YOU—"); in fact, there had been several opportunities that he only recognized as opportunities, years later, lying in bed, when the realization suddenly struck him that his kouhai who had been complimenting him so enthusiastically on his finished project, was doing so out of more than just an appreciation for his craftmanship and technical ingenuity.

All of which was to say: his experience, personality and back-story was quite at odds with the elf girl he sat next to during his freshman Crystal Mechanics lecture.

"What, um—if you don't mind my asking … what made you decide to pursue the field?" Cameron asked, after explaining to Miyu concepts he would have expected her to know by nature since middle school. … The unspoken part (which he would never say out loud) being, … since you don't seem to possess any natural predilection toward the field of crystal engineering.

At which query Miyu's eyes focused on some far-off point beyond the lecture hall blackboard as her mind worked to, in the end, come up blank. "I dunno," she shrugged. "… Seemed fun?"

… Anyway, after a few weeks of classroom-exclusive conversations—save one or two instances when the professor showed up later than usual, and so they had to talk outside the lecture hall door—circumstances soon shifted, so as to justify the need for extra-didactic meetings, as he would no longer get to see her in class, because—

"—I think I'm gonna switch majors."

"Oh," said Cameron, not entirely surprised, yet still trying all the same to hide his palpable disappointment at the possibility of not being able to see her again. "Uh … mind if I ask why?"

"I mean, you said it yourself. I'm not really inclined toward this stuff."

Cameron stammered. "I-I didn't mean anything by that. (Wait, hold on—I don't think I ever even said it out loud.) A-anyway, if it's help you need, I'd be glad to—"

But Miyu, who seemed to have already made her mind up with regard to her change in academic direction, laughed off the offer from Cameron, who now had to somehow, before she slipped out of his life for good, arrange some sort of way they could continue talking.

… Which eventually, after much nervous hesitation and self-doubts, followed by sweet relief when she agreed to meet again, a smile on her face ("Of course! I would love to!"), came in the form of … err …

… Coffee, of all things. Yes, yes. Very original, Cameron Callihan.

"Wow. Look at you, going on dates. I'm so happy for you," monotoned Heinrich. "With an elf, too."

"It's not a date," said Cameron, slightly annoyed. "And what's her being an elf got to do with anything?"

Heinrich's eyes widened, then narrowed smugly. "Ehhh? Don't you know? Elves make the most passionate lovers. It's true! They're in touch with their spiritual side. In tune with the sensual rhythm of all living things? You feel me?"

"No. No, I have no idea what any of that means."

"Do you know why elves smell so good!?" blurted out Heinrich, who had yet to master the art of the segue.

"No. (… But I'm sure you're about to tell me.)"

"They lack the sweat enzymes that we have! So that's why—they don't need to wear deodorant! The elf girl! You must smell her armp—"

"I'm not … I'm not going to do that, Heinrich."

"And, of course, let's not forget their … physical propensities," said Heinrich, miming bawdily a pair of … (Well, you get the picture.) "Aw, man, I can't believe your luck. What's even so special about you? You're not even that interesting."

"Uh … huh," nodded Cameron, who, at that early point in his relationship with Heinrich, was still trying, rather desperately, to apply for a roommate transfer.

"Sigh …" sighed Heinrich (literally vocalizing the word 'sigh' out loud), wistfully, "… a date … how nice …"

"It's not a date," maintained Cameron, whose nervous trembling did little to support this assertion, and who continued to tremble even as he sat at the table in the coffee shop, a few hours later, waiting for Miyu to arrive, having already ordered something, but only because the shop lady said he had to, a-and wait, hold on, maybe he should've ordered something for her as well? But what if she didn't like it? Hey, how did she like her coffee, in fact—oh, maybe that's a good topic of discussion for later … aw, man, what if they didn't have anything to talk about outside of class? Maybe he should've made a list of possible subjects to talk about beforehand, because what if—

"Okay, stop. Stop," said Yuka, disgustedly. "This is … What is this? This is not a love story. … Lecture hall? Switching majors? A coffee date?!"

"Ah," remarked Cameron. "Like I said, that … that wasn't a date, though."

Yuka clenched her fist, thrust it in front of her, and shouted, "I want to hear about passion! I want to hear about drama! I want love letters and miscommunications and confessions on the rooftop! And kabedons! And hearts that go doki-doki! I want both of you brought to the brink of despair and pulling through against all odds!"

(C: "What's a kabedon?" H: "Sounds like some … kind of rice dish?")

Miyu snapped her fingers. "Ah, if it's romance you want, what about the time we—"

"Okay, well," interrupted Yuka, "hold that thought, Miyu-Miyu. Maybe you'll have to save that for later. Because—"

… Because for now they had finally arrived in Lazumere proper, Yuka driving the cart through the village gates, passing by villagers tending their gardens or those who sat in front of their houses in rocking chairs glancing up from their books or, in the case of some older folk, large wooden pipes of fragrant-smelling tobacco, to wave cordially to the returning elves and their two human guests; as well as an entire welcoming committee with a giant printed banner welcoming the return of Elegia Nocturne; not to mention all the children, the elflings, who crowded around with endless wonder on their faces, most of whom had never even glimpsed so much as—

"—Wait, wait, wait, hold on!" cried Cameron. "A… A welcoming committee!?"

Miyu raised a finger, matter-of-factly. "Oh, that's just the Elegia Nocturne Fan Club. They're like this every year. My brother is very popular. … Among certain demographics."

"Eleeeee-gia! We looo-ooove youuuu! Welcome hooo-ooome!"

To which sing-song chorus of teary-eyed elves Miyu's brother responded with a dismissive click of his tongue and a staunch refusal to make eye contact with any of his fan club members. (H: "Can you teach me this power?" E: "What? … What power? Stop—dude—you're very close to me right now. Way too close.")

After a short drive through town, Yuka pulled up to a massive property located at the far end of Lazumere, where at the edge of its meticulously kept garden stood an older couple—a stoic, middle-aged elf with a stern look on his face, and a friendly-looking elf woman at his side, waving at the approaching passengers, she smiling at them with crescent half-moon eyes that seemed to be perpetually closed no matter the angle, her hair braided in a long ponytail that fell down over one shoulder …

Once the cart had stopped, Miyu leapt out to greet her parents. "Mama! Papa! I'm home!"

In the dizzying (… to one human in particular, at least …) commotion that followed—warm greetings, tearful reunions, awkward introductions (M: "I'd like you both to meet … my boyfriend …" C: "H-hi … Mr and Mrs Nocturne …" Miyu's mom, hand on cheek: "Ara … What handsome human boys, come to visit an old woman like me …" Heinrich: "… H-handsome? Did ya hear that? She called me handso—…")—Cameron's mind hardly even registered the moment when Miyu bent down to pick a blue flower from her father's garden; but he sure did notice it when Miyu, as soon as she stepped across the boundary into the home where she grew up, made her way to an altar near the entrance to place said flower atop it, right next to a small metal mesh vessel containing a single crystal, whose faint blue glow seemed to be keeping watch, a silent sentinel, over the framed oil portrait that depicted the likeness of a young boy with red hair—to whom, Cameron figured, the altar was evidently dedicated.

After placing the flower on the altar Miyu closed her eyes, clapped her hands silently together, and then said, "Archie … I'm home."