Chapter 42 : The Last Quite Day

The morning broke silently, snow drifting like feathers over the crumbling city. Another white day—another day of cold. Mikuya stood still beside the broken wall of the hideout, her breath forming fragile clouds in the air. The frost didn't faze her. Her face was blank, as if molded from the snow itself—unmoving, pale, hardened.

Far away from the ruins and silence, in the warmth of a cozy kitchen, Emiko slurped the last of her miso soup in a hurry. Today, school was closed because of the snow, and she, Hana, and Nene had made plans to spend the day together.

“Don’t forget your scarf!” her mother called out, handing her a warm woolen one.

“I won’t! Thanks!” Emiko replied, rushing to the door with her coat half-zipped.

“Be careful out there!” her father added.

“I will!” she shouted back.

Bundled in thick clothes, Emiko stepped outside into the flurry. Her boots crunched against the snow as she jogged down the street. Not long after, she spotted a familiar figure walking toward her—Hana.

“Emi!”

“Hana! You ready?”

“Totally! Let’s go!”

Together, they made their way through the quiet town. Ten minutes later, they reached Nene’s house. The door swung open before they even knocked.

“You made it!” Nene beamed, wearing a sweater that looked two sizes too big but incredibly warm.

Her parents greeted them kindly, ushering the girls inside and offering hot cocoa. Once upstairs in Nene’s room, they settled near the window, watching the snow drift across the sky like lost memories.

“She still hasn’t replied…” Hana muttered.

Emiko glanced at her phone and sighed. “Yuka hasn’t said anything at all.”

“I’m starting to worry,” Nene said softly. “She’s not the kind of person to ignore us this long… Do you think something happened?”

“Maybe… or maybe something’s wrong,” Hana murmured. “Something we don’t know.”

Yuka was still in her room.

The curtains were drawn, casting the room in muted gray light. She sat on the floor beside her bed, hugging her knees to her chest. Her hair fell over her face, concealing the numbness in her eyes.

She didn’t cry. She hadn’t cried in days. The ache inside her had grown silent, heavy, like a boulder pressing down on her soul.

Her gaze slowly lifted to the trophy on the shelf across the room. Its once-glimmering surface had dulled over the years, but it still shone faintly in the dim light.

And with it… a memory returned.

(They were only nine years old .)

Yuka stood at the front of her new classroom. Her heart pounded in her chest as she faced a sea of unfamiliar faces. She tried to speak, to introduce herself, but the words stuck in her throat.

Her lips trembled. The silence stretched.

Someone giggled. Then another.

Yuka couldn’t lift her head. The shame was crushing.

“Alright, Yuka,” the teacher said gently. “You can take a seat.”

She turned, scanning the room for a place to sit—but every desk was paired. No one raised a hand. No one looked her way.

Just as the emptiness settled in, a girl suddenly stood up. Her voice was confident, energetic.

“She can sit with me!” the girl announced with a radiant smile.

It was Mikuya.

The teacher sighed. “Mikuya, don’t distract her during class.”

“I won’t!” Mikuya nodded earnestly, grinning. “I’ll be good.”

Laughter rippled through the room again, but this time it wasn’t cruel. Yuka peeked at Mikuya through her bangs—eyes full of questions.

That was the first time she saw her.

Class ended. Lunch began. Mikuya was surrounded by friends, chatting and laughing. Yuka slipped away quietly, retreating to a quiet corner near the courtyard.

She unwrapped her lunch and began to eat alone, but the solitude didn’t last long.

“You didn’t tell me your name yet!”

Yuka looked up in surprise. Mikuya was standing there, slightly out of breath.

“W-What…?”

“Your name! You didn’t tell me in class,” Mikuya grinned. “It’s only fair since you’re my desk buddy now!”

“…Yuka,” she said shyly.

“Nice to meet you, Yuka! I’m Mikuya!”

Two more girls arrived behind her, panting.

“Mikuya! Don’t run off like that!” one of them scolded.

“Sorry, Nene!” Mikuya laughed.

“This girl’s impossible,” the other muttered.

“She’s just like that, Hana,” said another voice—Emiko, arriving seconds later.

Emiko looked at Yuka curiously. “Isn’t she the new girl?”

“Yup!” Mikuya said brightly. “Everyone, this is Yuka!”

To Yuka’s astonishment, the girls smiled and greeted her warmly.

“Nice to meet you!”

“Glad to have you!”

Yuka lowered her head, overwhelmed.

Suddenly, Mikuya grabbed her hand. “Come on! I want to show you something.”

She led the group through the school until they reached a dim, forgotten room. Yuka hesitated.

“Don’t worry!” Mikuya said.

The lights flicked on.

It was beautiful. Blankets, decorations, drawings on the walls.

“This is our secret base,” Mikuya said proudly. “And now you’re a part of it.”

“Why… why me?” Yuka asked.

Mikuya’s expression softened. “You looked sad. I wanted to see you smile.”

Back in class, the teacher made an announcement.

“Tomorrow is the three-legged race! Be ready.”

Yuka tilted her head in confusion.

Nene leaned forward. “It’s a team race. You’ll need a partner.”

The teacher asked, “Mikuya, do you have a partner yet?”

Mikuya blinked. “Oh no! I forgot!”

She turned instantly to Yuka. “Will you do it with me?”

Yuka, stunned, nodded.

“Yuka will be my partner!” Mikuya announced proudly.

After school, Yuka was walking alone when Mikuya ran up to her.

“Want to go home with us?”

Yuka nodded again.

On the way, Yuka asked, “Why did you pick me?”

Mikuya smiled. “Because I trust you. We’re friends, right?”

Yuka was stunned silent.

The next day, the school yard buzzed with excitement.

Parents lined the field.

Except Yuka’s.

Mikuya noticed. “Your parents not coming?”

“…No.”

Mikuya gave a small, understanding nod.

The race began.

Tied together, Mikuya and Yuka started slow. Yuka was tense. Nervous. They quickly fell behind.

Then Yuka stopped altogether.

“Why do you trust me so much?”

Mikuya turned. “I guess… I never really asked you directly, huh?”

She reached out her hand.

“Want to be friends, Yuka?”

Yuka’s heart swelled. For the first time, she smiled. “Sure. Let’s win.”

And they did.

Back in present.

Yuka’s eyes blinked slowly as she stared at the trophy.

Not far, in a quiet room filled with papers, Nene, Hana, and Emiko were huddled around a city map.

“We’ve searched almost every area,” Nene said.

“No sign,” Emiko murmured.

“But we can’t stop,” Hana said. “She’s out there.”

They stared at the map, fingers tracing paths and alleys.

They wouldn’t give up.

Meanwhile, Mikuya stepped into an alley on her way back. Snow covered the rooftops, her boots leaving trails behind.

Then—movement.

Soldiers.

They charged, weapons pulsing with cursed energy.

Mikuya didn’t flinch.

The battle was fierce—blades clashing, energy burning the air—but Mikuya stood her ground.

One by one, they fell.

Blood on snow.

She walked back to the hideout, her breath ragged, her coat torn, but her eyes as sharp as ever.

She opened the door. She walked to the wall.

Sat down.

Snowfall continued.

Elsewhere, Yuka finally stood.

She pulled on her coat, ignoring her mother’s voice calling her.

Without a word, she walked through the snow-covered streets until she stood before a familiar building—the one where Mikuya was hiding.

Snow fell around her like silence itself.

She didn’t go inside.

Instead, she noticed a white cat.

She knelt down, tied a folded paper to its collar.

“Go,” she whispered.

The cat slipped inside.

Mikuya looked up as the cat entered. Her eyes narrowed. A note?

She untied it and read silently.

Her face didn’t change.

She walked slowly to the broken wall, sat down once again.

And watched the snow fall.

The note in her hand fluttered slightly with the wind.

Its words hidden.

And in the frozen silence, the past and present danced like snowflakes on her lashes.