Snow pressed tightly against the window, sealing the outside world behind a white, endless wall.

  Akitsu Shouga stood quietly, staring at it. No sky. No horizon. Just frozen silence.

  “Vale-san,” he said at last, his voice low, “it must be lonely in here by yourself, right?”

  Vale was sitting nearby, calmly sorting dried herbs. She paused for a moment before answering.

  “Yeah,” she said. “It is pretty lonely. But I’ve been living here for one hundred and twenty-six years, so I’m used to it by now.”

  Akitsu froze.

  “Eh?!! You’re 126 years old?! You’re really old!”

  Vale snapped her head toward him.

  “Is that how you humans treat women?” she said flatly. “And just so you know, I’m practically middle-aged. I’m not old.”

  Akitsu waved his hands in panic.

  “Oh—no! I didn’t mean to insult you!” he said quickly. “I meant it’s amazing how you can live for so long. Humans only live about eighty years if they’re lucky.”

  Vale’s gaze softened, drifting to the snowstorm beyond the window.

  “That’s pretty sad…” she murmured. “I guess that’s what nature wanted.”

  Akitsu hesitated, then spoke again.

  “Vale-san… when will this snowstorm end? I have to go back home.”

  She answered without hesitation.

  “The chief said the storm will end in about twenty-six days from now.”

  “Oh… is that so?”

  Akitsu lowered his eyes to his hands. They were pale from the cold, fingers trembling slightly.

  Twenty-six days…

  Akitsu’s thoughts began to spiral.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  I might as well try to figure out how my powers work until the storm passes…

  Or should I leave now while the snow hides me?

  But I don’t even know where the exit is…

  Am I the only one who can do this? Die and return?

  Vale watched him quietly.

  “It’s nice having some company in this depressing house,” she said gently. “Isn’t that right?”

  Akitsu looked up.

  “Vale-san… do you have some sort of power or anything like it?”

  Vale blinked once.

  “The villagers don’t have any powers,” she replied. “Only the village chief and the guardians do. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” Akitsu said quickly. “I just wanted to know if powers were real.”

  Vale smiled faintly.

  “Oh well… even if you don’t tell me the reason, I trust you.”

  Akitsu sat down on the wooden floor, exhaling slowly.

  Far away.

  Beyond the storm.

  A man walked alone through a swamp.

  His body was wrapped in tight crimson armor, a long scarf trailing behind him like a banner soaked in blood. His white hair swayed with every step, his red eyes sharp and alert.

  At his side hung a katana in a white sheath—roses painted delicately along its surface, bound by a strip of red cloth.

  He stopped.

  Before him stood a massive tree with a gaping hollow carved into its trunk.

  “…Interesting,” he muttered.

  His hand rested on the katana as he stepped inside.

  The moment he blinked—

  The world changed.

  A vast forest stretched endlessly before him, snowstorm raging just as fiercely within. He turned back.

  The exit was still there.

  Good.

  He continued forward.

  An arrow suddenly tore through the air behind him.

  He dodged without even turning his head.

  More presences emerged from the snow—figures perched in the branches, silent and waiting.

  “Ah,” the man sighed. “Looks like I have to take a detour.”

  In the next instant, he vanished—moving at impossible speed through the storm.

  Back inside the tree house.

  Vale had stepped outside to gather supplies.

  Akitsu lay stretched across the floor, wrapped in blankets.

  He slept peacefully.

  Then—

  A memory surfaced.

  Akitsu walked down a familiar street after school.

  The sun was warm.

  A child laughed as he played with a dog in the park. Akitsu smiled faintly as he passed by.

  When he reached home, raised voices echoed from inside.

  He hesitated, then opened the door.

  Shoes off.

  The living room came into view.

  His father was striking his mother.

  “Oi!!” Akitsu yelled calmly. “Knock it off. The neighbors are going to call the police again.”

  His father turned slowly.

  Tattoos covered his arms. His shirt hung loosely from years of neglect.

  “What did you say to me, you little punk?!” the man roared.

  He grabbed Akitsu by the hair and slammed him across the face.

  Akitsu chuckled softly.

  “How pathetic can you become, huh?”

  The kick came next.

  Darkness swallowed him.

  Akitsu jolted awake.

  His chest heaved as sharp pain tore through his head.

  “What… was that?” he gasped. “Was it a nightmare?”

  He lay back down, staring at the wooden ceiling.

  Snow battered the roof above him.

  “No…”

  His voice was barely a whisper.

  “That wasn’t a nightmare…”

  His eyes hardened.

  “It was real.”

  The storm outside continued to howl, as past and present quietly intertwined.