The chilly, biting frost filled the air, having grown even colder as the sun, which once had shone above all, dipped lower and lower, until eventually hiding itself behind the humongous mountains, covered with snow at their tips, far away.
Fragile snowflakes wandered around, drifting through the wind, before eventually merging with the ground.
Bare tree branches were coated with those snowflakes, and icicles hung from rooftops.
Shovels scraped against the ground, pushing away the snow, while others laughed and shouted, as snowballs flew from one side of the street to another.
In the midst of it all, a boy's boots crunched on the snow; his complete silence and unawareness of his surroundings balanced the cheerful tone.
That boy's name was Yure Hoshigara, someone who was stuck living the life of a slave. But he didn't have a choice. At that point in time, there was no way for him to break free from the system that oppressed him.
He carried logs on his back with a homemade carrier, which he had strapped to himself. Though every time he went on these walks, he had to slightly arch his back forward.
Before arriving home, however, he went out of his way to walk up the icy and snowy hill. Every second spent in the cold was only eating away at his skin with the biting cold.
Even his nose, which could've been considered excellent at picking up scents, was blocked by the snot he pushed back every other breath.
No one around him really understood his situation. A kid who carried logs out in public, his body pale and shivering, and taking different detours, before even arriving at home.
People weren't even sure if Yure lived alone; it was rather difficult to spark up a conversation with him. He was the odd, quiet kid who did his own thing without ever asking for help from the adults.
"That boy's been awfully quiet ever since what happened to his mom." One of the middle-aged women noted as she held onto her shovel.
Next to her sat a man with a gray, dirty beard, smoke flowing out from between his unbrushed teeth, as he sat beneath the makeshift cover for rain, which also happened to work well with a snowstorm.
"That ain't none of our business. We get involved, and our lives will be put at risk just like his."
To the woman, Yure almost acted on instinct, following the same paths, carrying the logs the same way, even ignoring eye contact. But she forced herself to look away and got back to scraping the snow.
"You're right..."
Yure eventually made it up the hill, a slight sigh of relief escaping his soft, but dried-up lips, hidden behind a red scarf.
On top of that hill was a graveyard, built by the people stuck in this town. To consider them citizens would be an insult, as none of them wished to live under the control of the Thona clan, but escaping wasn't a choice.
There were countless amount of graves on the hill, which is the reason why this spot was chosen. To build any houses or buildings as a whole on the hill would make them a direct target of attacks, which hadn't happened in years by that point, but nothing was guaranteed.
There was also no room on the ground for a graveyard that size, considering all the empty houses that couldn't be demolished.
The logs didn't drop to the ground with a thump as Yure arrived at his mother's grave. He instead placed the logs down with care, not to disturb any of the dead, especially his own mother.
Yure's knees dove deep into the snow, the pants that were already moist from the snow now felt like they had dived through an ocean.
But Yure didn't care about any of that; his eyelids shut together, hiding his exhausted, yet innocent eyes.
He pressed his hands together. The words wouldn't come, so he let the wind speak for him. It carried the same question it always did: why her, not him? And brought back no answer.
On cold nights, Yure wished he had swapped places with his own mother. But nothing could make it come true, no matter how hard he prayed or cried.
The snowflakes drifting in the sky had slowed down, melting upon coming in touch with Yure's face. Whether or not Yure cried or if the streams were from the melted snow, no one knew, except for Yure himself.
But obviously, he denied any acknowledgment of his tears.
"Rest easy..." Yure softly whispered, after having sat in the cold snow for minutes.
He had to get home before it was too dark. Judging by the direction of the snow, it was five in the evening, and it wasn't completely dark just yet, considering the hill allowed him to peek at the sun.
In the lower areas of this town, it definitely felt darker. It was even colder, but partly due to the depressing atmosphere, where it felt like many had apathy, just like Yure.
Yure clutched the edge of his right hand's sleeve, wiping his face dry.
He had no choice but to keep moving; it was going to get too dark for him to safely walk around, and dark meant it was going to grow colder. There was someone at home waiting for him.
Yure picked up the logs on his carrier, which he strapped to his back. Despite his awful posture, Yure never complained about back pains.
With the logs for heat on his back, he turned his back towards the graveyard, heading back to the town.
Yure's steps had grown heavier since he made his way up the hill; he seemed to struggle more going downhill than uphill. But that was to be expected to some degree, considering how long he spent in the frozen snow.
However, not too far away from where Yure was, a girl made her way through the dark streets, lit by cheap lampposts.
Her steps were elegant and almost respectful to the pure snow beneath her as she stepped over it softly.
The people living in the town didn't speak to her; they didn't even dare to take a quick glance at her.
The fact was, she was from the Thona clan, the clan ruling over the townspeople. That would've also included Yure, who lived in these poor circumstances created by the girl's clan.
She didn't seem to come with any ill intent, as her face was lit by a warm smile. Partly due to how safe she was in here, there were people watching over her at all times, but her smile also came from the person she came to meet.
The quiet boy from her school, Yure Hoshigara.
Yure managed to get into a prestige school not just through his highly praised knowledge, but also because of his father, who had saved up money and bought him in there.
When Yure had already walked down the hill and made his way near the house, where the old lady and the grumpy man always stared at Yure, one of the logs on his back slipped to the ground.
"I got it!" The girl yelled to Yure, picking up the log.
Yure was slightly startled, but contained himself. Had it been someone other than Lynne Thona, his future assistant, perhaps he would've run off in fear.
"...What are you doing here?" Yure asked in his usual serious tone.
Lynne tilted her head, looking at Yure as if his question didn't make sense.
"I came here to play with you, obviously."
"Sorry, but we can't." Yure pushed the log that had fallen in place on his back.
Lynne started getting frustrated with Yure's answers.
"Huh? Why not?"
"I... I don't want you to associate with the likes of me."
"But..." Lynne's tone lowered.
"It's too dangerous for you in here. Go home."
With that, Yure turned his back on her and continued walking without saying a word.
Lynne felt heartbroken at the time. She hadn't understood the differences and conflicts between the Thona clan and the underlings.
And that's why she could never confess her feelings, ones that lasted even past their childhood.