As Kotomi Izumi sipped the honey water in small gulps, Yukino Yukinoshita sat quietly at the edge of the bed, waiting for her. The déjà vu made Kotomi feel a little embarrassed. Why?

Because it felt just like when she was a child, sick in bed, and her mother would bring her a cup of sweet water. Sitting by her side, her mother would watch her drink slowly, and if she accidentally choked, she’d gently wipe her lips with a handkerchief she had already prepared.

The water was indeed a bit hot—after all, it had to be hot enough to dissolve the honey. While doing so, Yukino had done her best to control the temperature. That hidden care beneath her icy exterior, once noticed, was like honey in water—plain at first sip, unforgettable in aftertaste.

Yukino will definitely make a good wife someday, Kotomi thought subconsciously as she drank.

“When you pressed me under you just now, your expression looked like you were having a nightmare. When I was little and woke from a nightmare, my sister would make me a cup of honey water,” Yukino said softly. For such childhood memories, the central figure was usually a mother. But for Yukino, it was her sister.

Haruno really knew how to take care of her? Kotomi found it hard to believe. She didn’t say it aloud, though. She still hadn’t figured out how to tell Yukino that her sister was her editor. Honestly, at school, Kotomi didn’t like others knowing she wrote novels and drew manga.

If it were just a hobby, written secretly in a notebook, and one day a teacher confiscated it, classmates might tease her for a while. But soon, it would blow over.

But if you earned royalties and had popularity, it was different. Classmates wouldn’t joke—they’d admire you, say how amazing you were. Yet at the same time, the relationship between you and your classmates would grow distant.

It was a trade-off. Which one you preferred depended on yourself.

Kotomi, however, had chosen not to let her classmates know. At least during high school, she wanted it that way.

High school, after all—she was still just a 16-year-old JK in her youth. Better to enjoy those years, being a happy little fool. Wasn’t that nicer?

“Eh… I see. So you and your sister have a really good relationship, huh, Yukino?”

Yukino shook her head. “With my sister, it was okay when we were little. But after growing up, it feels like we’ve had less and less to talk about. Sometimes she even annoys me. She doesn’t really do anything wrong, but if she talks too much, I instinctively feel so irritated.”

At that, Yukino let out a faint, silent sigh, as though helpless about the current state of her relationship with her sister.

Deep down, she still acknowledged her sister. But going through adolescence, with more and more of her own thoughts, she no longer liked listening to her sister as much.

When Haruno had talked about Yukino before, she too had sighed helplessly:

“Little Yukino didn’t talk much as a child either, but at least she always followed me wherever I went. I even got into the habit of glancing back while walking, worried she might get lost since she walked so quietly and spoke so little. But ever since middle school, the distance has just grown. Teenage girls really are a headache.”

In simple terms, Yukino had grown into adolescence, with her own way of thinking, no longer the little girl who asked her sister about everything. But Haruno had yet to get used to that change.

And with Haruno busy at work, the two rarely saw each other anymore—let alone sit down for a heart-to-heart.

On top of that, Yukino’s aloof nature meant she never spoke up first. Expecting her to take the initiative to talk to her sister was pure fantasy.

Kotomi thought that even if she one day won Yukino’s heart, and the two of them were about to get married, unless she gave Yukino a push, the sisters’ relationship would never improve. It would likely remain stuck in this awkward state forever.

On this matter, Kotomi was the least willing to stay idle. She wanted more than anyone for Yukino and Haruno’s relationship to improve again. As for why? Ahem—Kotomi couldn’t say it aloud right now. Let’s just say her ambitions were large. She hadn’t even won over one yet, but was already dreaming of a future where she could have both.

“Kotomi, you have a younger sister. How do you think sisters should get along?” Yukino asked curiously. Ever since learning Kotomi was the older sister at home, she had been wanting to ask this question.

“Well…” Kotomi thought for a moment, not sure how to answer. Even if she hadn’t said it to Aimi directly, deep down she already knew the truth.

Her relationship with Aimi was… not exactly ordinary.

She wanted to give a vague reply, but found she couldn’t even come up with one. In the end, she gave a helpless little smile.

“Sorry, I don’t really know how to answer. I think… since we’re family, I’ve never really thought in detail about how to get along? That kind of casual indifference between family is actually the deepest care. Day by day, you live like that, and your personalities adjust and accommodate each other. Maybe that’s what family is.

“Haha, I know it sounds confusing—I didn’t prepare my words well. But it’s funny, I never expected you to ask me such a question, Yukino. Are you preparing for the future, when we’ll become a family?”

Kotomi teased cheekily at the end.

Yukino glanced at her, then at the cup in her hands. Finally, she let out a small sigh, as if helpless. Kotomi didn’t understand why she sighed, so she said: “If you keep sighing like that, you’ll sigh all your luck away.”

“I was just thinking—why didn’t I make the water hotter when I dissolved the honey earlier?” Yukino replied calmly.

Kotomi chuckled awkwardly and didn’t press further. She simply sat quietly on the bed, sipping the honey water Yukino had made for her.

It was so good.

Even though it was nothing more than hot water with honey.

When she finished, Kotomi started to get up to return the cup to the kitchen. But Yukino, sitting beside her, reached out first. Reluctantly, Kotomi handed it over and let her take it back.

After placing the cup in the kitchen, Yukino returned to the bedroom, turned off the overhead light, and used her phone’s glow to switch on the bedside lamp. It seemed she wanted to read a little before sleeping.

“I always read a few pages before bed. It’s a habit. Doesn’t matter if I really read or not. If you’re sleepy, just turn off the lamp. It’s late, and we have school tomorrow. Better to sleep early,” Yukino said softly as she pulled back the blanket and sat on the bed.

“I just woke up—I’m not sleepy yet. Can we read together?”

“Alright.” Yukino nodded without hesitation, letting Kotomi hold one side of the book so they could read together.

But just as Yukino was about to start, Kotomi leaned against her side instead of focusing on the book.

Let’s cuddle~

Yukino involuntarily breathed in Kotomi’s scent. Maybe it was because she had just finished the honey water—Kotomi smelled faintly sweet and fragrant, like something soft and small and lovely.

And Yukino knew Kotomi was also breathing in her scent.

That bedtime reading session ended with Yukino not reading a single page, while Kotomi eagerly devoured Tale of Two Cities. Kotomi thought that, if possible, she’d like to spend more time in this very position with Yukino—reading together like this.

Earlier, she had noticed a full set of A Song of Ice and Fire on Yukino’s bookshelf. She wondered when George R. R. Martin would ever finish the sixth book. Next time, she thought, they could read it together.

…

That star had forever lost its brilliance and light. She wept in grief for her sins.

Another star told her that with hope and love in her heart, she should bravely step forward with every future step, for love would always be waiting for her.

At the end of deep space, at the far shore of blooming flowers, at—the end of dimmed time.

Thus, the sun and the stars, throughout the universe, all revolved around love.

As the brush left its marks on the canvas, faint sounds echoed.

Mashiro Shiina sat alone in her bedroom, painting an oil piece—a bird flying beneath the azure sky. How high could it fly?

“I long for a pair of wings, even if they are only glass-like wings of lapis lazuli.”

The snow-white girl had once said.

“I want to see whether the depths of the universe hold heaven or hell. I hope it is heaven.”

Every word that snow-white girl had spoken never faded from Mashiro’s ears. Every one of Mashiro’s works was about her. Even if the subject wasn’t her, it was still inextricably tied to her.

Mashiro set down her brush and turned to look at a life-sized painting hanging on her wall.

Against a backdrop of holy radiance, a snow-white girl sat naked, as though born from a pure white eggshell. The shell lay shattered, half remaining, fragments scattered across the ground. The girl sat at its edge, her legs extended outward, whether dangling in the air or resting on the ground was unclear.

She turned her head to look at the wings behind her. Her face bore an indescribable calm. The angel-like wings, however, were only half complete.

They were broken, white wings.

No one knew why there should have been two, but only one remained. Where had the other gone?

The snow-white girl in the painting didn’t know. Her expression held neither joy nor sorrow—only that detached calm. The only one who knew the answer was the painter herself, Mashiro Shiina.

“So beautiful…”

Mashiro murmured to herself. She had painted many works, but only when she created pieces about the snow-white girl would she linger to admire them afterward, repeating the same words again and again—so beautiful.

Anyone familiar with Kotomi, upon seeing this painting, would not only think it beautiful but also feel a chill. It looked far too much like her. The naked girl, as though born and living within an eggshell, forever on the verge of breaking free—she seemed drawn stroke by stroke from Kotomi’s likeness.

It made people feel this was Mashiro’s self-portrait of Kotomi.

But… why had Mashiro painted Kotomi in such a way?

Only Mashiro knew.

Her eyes drifted to the carving knife resting on her desk, its blade glinting with a sharpness unbefitting of a mere tool.

Beside it lay fragments of white clay, pieced together into the form of an eggshell.

“Once I finish this entire series of paintings, Kotomi, you’ll definitely be happy.” Mashiro stepped forward, caressing the incomplete white-winged girl on the canvas, a childlike smile spreading across her face.

…

Was it the comfort of the honey water, or simply because she had slept beside Yukino Yukinoshita?

That night, Kotomi had slept soundly, without another nightmare.

Of course, it still wasn’t quite the same as when she slept while holding Kazumi.

The night before, after reading a little of Tale of Two Cities together, the two had placed the book on the bedside table, turned off the lamp, and lay down to drift into sleep.

On rainy nights, tucked under the quilt, drowsiness came so easily.

As the sound of rain filled her ears, her mood lightened, and she gradually sank into slumber.

Especially on nights when the rain came down harder—Kotomi loved curling up beneath her blanket, listening to the storm outside the window.

On such days, aside from going downstairs for meals, she could stay in bed all day. Others might say rainy days were dreary, but to Kotomi, staying home while it rained was the best form of relaxation.

Last night, lulled by the rainfall, Kotomi slipped into her dreams.

Before falling asleep, Kotomi had tried holding Yukino Yukinoshita’s hand. At first, Yukino instinctively struggled a little, but then she didn’t pull away, letting Kotomi keep her grip.

It was just a shame that the light had been off. Kotomi hadn’t been able to see Yukino’s expression in that moment, and she felt a bit regretful about it.

When she woke the next morning and saw that their hands were still joined just as they had been the night before, Kotomi couldn’t help but smile. She wriggled slightly under the blanket, stretching like a lazy cat, and thought about going back to sleep for a bit more.

She still didn’t let go of Yukino’s hand.

After dozing a little longer, Kotomi suddenly remembered that today was Monday. She carefully reached toward her pillow for her phone, trying not to wake Yukino, to check the time.

“Since I went to bed so early last night, I should’ve woken up early too. So disciplined—nm! What the—9:30?!”

All her drowsiness vanished in an instant. Kotomi shot upright in bed.

This wasn’t just waking up late. This was sleeping straight through the morning! Any later, and it would have been 10:00 already—the second class of the morning almost over.

Her lips twitched. Last night she’d been so caught up in the excitement of sleeping next to Yukino that she completely forgot to set her alarm.

Normally, her weekday alarms were set by default. But she had a habit: every Friday morning, after waking up, she would turn off the alarm, since the weekend followed. Then on Sunday night, she’d remember to set it again.

But last night… she forgot.

Ironically, she had learned this alarm-setting habit from Yukino herself. They were practically teacher and student in that regard.

Which meant… Yukino had forgotten too.

Oh-ho. No wonder they both overslept. Who else would it be if not them?

When you’re just a few minutes late, panic rises. But once you’re far past the point of no return, the anxiety fades. Kotomi, now seeing the time, wasn’t panicked at all. In fact, she even thought about lying back down and holding Yukino’s hand a little longer.

Her sudden movement earlier, however, had woken Yukino. Though she normally slept lightly, Yukino had, strangely enough, slept soundly all night while Kotomi held her hand.

“Good morning, Kotomi.”

Yukino stretched lazily. Rested and refreshed, her mood was better than usual. She assumed it was around six in the morning.

“You go wash up first. I don’t have extra toothbrushes, cups, or towels—just use mine if you don’t mind. I’ll go make breakfast. What would you like to eat?”

—

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