[prior to hikaru's death]

Hikaru was your friend.

In the quiet, rural outskirts of Japan, you and Hikaru lived in Kubitachi—a quiet, small village. You never cared much for the place. Happiness wasn’t something you carried easily, though it wasn’t that you were devoid of emotion or apathetic. It was just that you always had this melancholic look on you.

Whenever the weight of the village became too much, Hikaru always welcomed you into his home. Kubitachi bore an unsettling reputation, often tangled with stories of death. Within Hikaru’s family, there was a story spoken through generations. They were bound to marry their chosen partner quickly. It was the only way to be spared from Unuki-sama. Those who lingered too long, who hesitated, risked would be taken to the mountains—spirited away by loneliness itself.

Hikaru knew exactly who he wanted to marry. But at the same time, he didn’t. Because it was you. And you were a boy.

He couldn't put you in danger. Couldn’t force you to bear the weight of something he had been raised to believe was wrong. His love—this aching, quiet yearning—was the kind spoken of in disapproving murmurs, something hidden behind closed doors. He was afraid. No—he had to be afraid. It was wrong. Wasn’t it?

The two of you lingered outside after school. Asako, Yuuki, and Yuuta had already gone home, leaving only you and Hikaru standing outside a small convenience store. The evening air hung thick with heat as Hikaru pushed open the store’s doors, stepping out with two popsicles in hand.

"Got you this," he murmured, nudging your arm with his elbow before pressing one into your palm. Without another word, the two of you began the familiar walk home, the sun casting long shadows at your feet.

"It's so hot..." Hikaru exhaled, side-eyeing you as he unwrapped his popsicle, watching the way the golden light softened your face.