It felt like I had only just begun to slowly recover from the forced closeness — when I was once again plunged headfirst into it.
Maybe I was simply wishful thinking and nothing had actually moved forward at all. It was hard — or rather, impossible — to say whether I was truly getting better.
Whether Luisa coming back was the right decision in the end — that wasn't for me to decide. All I could do was exist with the consequences. Consequences that, once again, had been brought upon me by adults.
Part of me was glad. Hard to deny. And it's not like I didn't want it.
The other part wanted to scream.
As if they had disconnected me from life support, forced me to learn to breathe with my own lungs, and then plugged me back in immediately.
Mm, no. The scale of the problem still wasn't quite that huge. But something along those lines, probably.
We had said goodbye — in a sense — only yesterday. Not that much time had passed. But the memory of that hair clip, the one that seemed to freeze time inside me, now made me want to disappear into the floor.
I had convinced myself that parting was inevitable, and yet I gave in to a momentary impulse.
It was still early evening, but my head was already boiling, ready at any second to dump a ball of disgusting thoughts on me.
Not much time had passed, and I already didn't know what to talk about with her. Actually, the moment I saw her, all ideas vanished. It seems closeness kills not only separation, but reunion as well.
Events divided by desperation make everything unbearably awkward. Maybe it only works that way with me.
Mom left Luisa's bags and went away. We didn't even meet. It seems she had no intention of interfering. Ironically, right now I needed her presence more than ever.
"You said you would try. Why did Dad carry you down?"
"He didn't want to wait for me to come down."
I waved it off and shrugged, trying to sound as cold as possible.
Besides, it wasn't entirely a lie. I really did want to come down by myself.
"I see."
From the flow of the conversation, it felt like Luisa was also awkward right now. Maybe her return wasn't even her own idea? But Euriel had clearly said: "Luisa wanted to come every day."
Was that just an excuse?
Adults are almost always impossible to understand.
Luisa walked over to the table where the book she had left still lay. Suddenly I wanted to say something to distract her. But her fingers had already touched the cover.
"I forgot to put it away."
I tried to sound as casual as possible, as if it really didn't matter.
"I didn't say anything." Luisa tilted her head to the side, and the smile on her lips lingered just a little longer than necessary. "So you didn't miss me, huh?"
"Not at all."
I hurriedly turned away, lowering my head.
I heard a soft chuckle, then the creak of a floorboard. But I wasn't going to turn around. My shoulders instinctively tensed when her hands touched my forearms.
"Liar."
"Too close."
I wanted to push her away, but… also didn't want to. So I just stood there, torn between the two thoughts.
She wasn't pressing herself against me. Her head was far enough that her breath couldn't reach me. And yet I still felt her warmth slowly transferring to me.
"Really? Then how are we supposed to sleep together and take baths?"
"Separately."
Of course I understood that was impossible. At least the sleeping part. The words burst out on their own, like some automatic defense against intrusion. Even though it triggered uselessly.
"Oh! So you'll sleep on the floor?"
"What? Why me?"
I frowned and whipped around. It was a classic provocation — and apparently it worked.
My face nearly bumped into hers, and I instinctively recoiled. Much closer than I had expected.
My brows dropped as if I were squinting against too-bright light. I knew that the smaller the distance, the harder it is to hide anything. Facial expressions betray you easily. And even knowing that, I couldn't hold her gaze — I looked away.
"Missed."
From the tone of her voice it was hard to tell whether she was asking or stating. Talking about me, or about herself.
I wanted to snap back, but couldn't find the words.
In this round, I was the loser no matter what.
It seems Luisa didn't need an answer anyway. She had already decided everything for herself. After saying that, she simply stepped back and headed toward the chair where her bags hung.
"I brought something for you."
"Why?"
I wanted to ask "what for", but that sounded too rude. At the same time, I still didn't understand why she felt the need to bring me anything.
"I felt like it."
I'm not sure such a simple reason was enough. She had already left me a book.
Maybe this was her way of gradually turning my room into her territory, bringing more and more of her things here?
"And what is it?"
Luisa didn't answer. Instead she busily rummaged through one bag, then the other. I caught myself stretching my neck, trying to see what she was looking for. But I couldn't make anything out.
Then she pulled out something long and bright. A pink dress? Seriously?
No, I must be mistaken. She knows I don't wear stuff like that. But because I couldn't quite see what she was holding, a faint anxiety crept in.
"Here."
Luisa turned and stretched her arms forward. She was holding a sweater. Apparently one of hers, judging by the length. And the color, of course.
"I don't like pink."
"But what about your eyes?" She frowned.
The remark felt dubious. I wasn't offered appearance customization before birth.
"Exception. Besides, I didn't choose them."
"Well…"
She lowered her head, looking up at me from under her brows like a sulky puppy.
"You really don't want it?"
Her voice sounded so pitiful that for a moment I even started to despise myself.
What is even happening? Today Luisa is twisting me however she wants. As if while I wasn't seeing her, some tiny strategist had possessed her.
"Fine." I sighed, reaching for the sweater.
Actually, there was one more reason I agreed. When you part with someone, you can never be sure whether you'll meet again.
Of course it went against Luisa's father's ideology, but I wanted to do everything I could while I still had the chance.
"Great. Take your clothes off."
"Have you lost your mind?"
I nearly yelped in surprise. It wasn't really a problem, but the way she said it sounded way too weird.
"What? You're gonna wear it over your pajamas?"
Luisa looked genuinely surprised. As if she truly didn't understand how someone could put clothes on top of other clothes.
"I'll wear it."
Taking the sweater from her hands, it wasn't hard to get into it. The moment I lifted the hem over my head, it slid onto me like a sack.
I pushed my arms through the sleeves. As expected, they were way too long. Enough room left to flap them around like a ghost.
Luisa's thing. Nothing surprising about that. Still, I unconsciously sniffed it. There was no trace of her scent. It just smelled like wool, as if no one had ever worn it.
The sweater was on top of my pajamas, and suddenly I felt very hot. And also slightly uncomfortable.
I knew how ridiculous this would look, but I still went to the mirror.
"This is awful," I exhaled.
"Stop grumbling."
Luisa spoke reproachfully, but in the reflection I noticed her biting her lip, as if scolding herself for what she said. Her gaze darted across my back, as though she had left herself instructions. Apparently the needed point was missing.
Then she huffed and her hands reached for my shoulders. My body instinctively tensed, as if sensing a predator. I wanted to step away, but found myself trapped between the mirror and Luisa.
Needless to say, there was nowhere to run when she grabbed the hood and pulled it over my head.
Darkness. The fabric pressed against my nose. Not too hard, but enough to make me wince.
I jerked my head — it only got worse. My whole head disappeared under the hood, like a cabbage packed into a bag. Stuffy.
I tried to resist, but with those long sleeves I couldn't even tell what I was grabbing — or whether I was grabbing anything at all. For a moment my throat tightened and air couldn't reach my lungs.
"I surrender."
My voice was muffled by fabric. Not sure if she heard. But the grip loosened and I managed to pull the hood off. My hair was a mess and my head spun to the side, like when you stand up too fast after sitting for a long time.
"Not fair."
I had been without air for just a few seconds, yet I already felt like I'd been locked in a vacuum. After several sharp breaths I finally came to.
"It's your own fault for being so tiny. You should drink more…" Her eyes widened as if she suddenly realized something. "Ah, right."
"Idiot." I shook my head, trying to fix my hair.
It seems she didn't feel guilty at all. Though it's not like there was anything to blame her for.
Think whatever you want, say whatever — the truth was one. The hood had been pulled quite loosely — it was my own fault for lifting my head instead of ducking.
That realization weighed on my shoulders, or maybe it was just fatigue. I was still hot. Sure, I often complained about being cold, but complaining and actually doing something about it are two different things.
And of course I belonged to the first type.
I pulled the sleeve up to my elbow and grabbed the cuff, holding it in place. Then did the same with the other one, trying to create at least some illusion of control.
One more glance in the mirror — I looked ridiculous even by my own standards. The fingertips peeking out from the fabric didn't save the situation.
Better not look anymore. Nothing important changes anyway.
I reached for my neck to wipe the sweat that had appeared. The stickiness on my skin was deeply unpleasant. But when I tried to take the sweater off, I felt something preventing me. That made me look down.
Her hands look soft and uncertain, almost unreliable. But they were strong enough to hold me on the stairs — so stopping me from undressing was no trouble at all.
"Why are you taking it off?"
I lifted my eyes to Luisa. The skin around her lips and nose was noticeably taut, as if she was afraid I would reject her gift.
At least that's how it seemed from her anxious gaze.
"It's hot."
"Then take it off."
"That's what I was doing."
My hands moved to my stomach as I pulled the sweater apart, showing that I really was about to remove it.
Judging by how her cheeks puffed out, it was easy to guess what she thought about that.
"Why not the pajamas?"
"Stop it."
I yanked the sweater out of her grasp and muttered something else. Without trying to put any meaning into it — it came out fittingly. As if I were scolding Luisa in some made-up language.
I doubt Luisa had any hidden motives, but her persistence was starting to annoy me a little. Even if she was trying to turn me into some capital fashion girl — that wasn't what I wanted.
"But it's almost down to your knees. I think it would look really…"
Her head drooped as though she was catching her breath. The way her eyes darted told me she herself didn't know what to say. Or maybe it was so weird that it was better left unsaid.
"Cold?" I suggested.
"No." She shook her head.
"Chilly?"
Of course it was just a synonym, but I didn't know how else bare legs could look in winter. Silly, maybe.
"Stop grumbling."
Again.
She said it again. My stomach muscles tensed and it was hard to say I was looking at her kindly. From her remark I started feeling like an old lady on a bench judging random passersby.
Well, whatever.
The question remained open: what was I supposed to do?
I was exhausted enough from the events of these past days that resisting Luisa's persistence was difficult. Of course I tried, but… in the end the sweater stayed on me.
And I was getting hotter, to the point that my head started spinning.
With all that, I think nothing terrible will happen if I change my pajamas and put on some pants for my legs, right?
Taking a deep breath — like before diving underwater — I finally managed to pull the sweater off.
At the same moment Luisa looked genuinely hurt, as if I were about to throw it away.
"I can't change with the sweater on."
Luisa blinked.
"Right."
Then she nodded and stepped away.
She sat on the chair, turning her back to me. It was very tactful of her not to peek. Though after her pushiness I wouldn't have been surprised by anything.
I went to the wardrobe, found something to cover my legs, and climbed onto the bed. The moment my shoulders were bare, a shiver of cold ran across my sweaty skin.
I immediately wanted to crawl under the blanket and stay there until spring. But my urge was interrupted by Luisa's sudden statement:
"You're a cat too."
Her vague comment made me flustered.
"What?"
I didn't understand. Did she call me a plank? A monster? Neither option felt particularly close to me.
Right after the words, the space beside Luisa changed. The air no longer moved freely — it thickened, as though pressing against itself. The olive tint didn't glow; instead it made the room dimmer.
It became too quiet. The silence pressed down, and I suddenly heard my own breathing very sharply.
Is she going to create that creature?
"Just when I thought we were getting closer — and you got wary again."
And then the air burst. At least that's how it felt. There was no sound. It just looked that way.
My hands clutched the pajamas as if trying to protect myself by hugging my own body.
It's not that I was scared. But today Luisa was being far too pushy. I wouldn't have been surprised if it pounced on me.
I wouldn't have liked that.
After a moment of silence, a tiny head appeared over her shoulder — too solid for air that had just been torn apart.
Vesperia.
"You're the cat…"
We both knew it wasn't really about "cat", but I doubt I'll get another chance to throw it back at her.
Vesperia climbed onto Luisa's shoulder, then onto her head. Luisa didn't move, as if all her activity had transferred to the magical creature.
The little muzzle turned from side to side. It looked like she was sniffing. Or maybe examining the room. Hard to tell from the movements alone.
If not for the fact that she was made of wind, there was something calming about watching… a vesper-kitten? Or vesper-ling. Kitten.
In any case, she didn't look like a bird. The tiny creature now looked exactly like Luisa — just as defenseless and…
I didn't manage to finish the thought before the creature suddenly darted off — either jumping or dissolving into the air.
I caught myself staring with my mouth slightly open as Vesperia ran through the air, leaving an olive-colored trail of light behind her.
And then she landed on my knees.
I blinked and looked down.
…Impudent. Just like Luisa.
Before she began to settle, I felt a faint shockwave. A weak vibration passed through my knees, as if Vesperia had growled. Or maybe purred. She made no sound, so I had trouble interpreting it.
But I flinched when a stream of air brushed across my body, making my hair sway.
Do all local cats purr like this? I had never thought about it.
I noticed Luisa glancing at me over her shoulder, as if waiting for a reaction. Honestly, I wasn't sure how to react.
Vesperia began kneading my knees with her paws — drawing my attention back to her — like she was sharpening her claws. But completely imperceptibly. It felt as though air was seeping inside, bypassing the lungs.
A strange way to breathe. But actually… it felt quite pleasant. My shoulders slowly relaxed. And with the exhale — I let the thoughts go.
My hand unconsciously reached toward Vesperia. She immediately responded. A faint tremor passed under my palm.
She was purring. No doubt left.
I lifted my head. Luisa had already fully turned toward me and… was smiling. So childishly that I almost forgot how irritating she had been just moments ago.
Wait. No.
"Turn away."
Her smile instantly crumpled, replaced by puffed cheeks.
"Grumbling again?"
Despite the protest, Luisa did turn away.
I wonder if she can see through Vesperia's eyes? I hope not.
"When did you learn to do that?"
"I don't talk to people I can't see," she huffed.
Even for Luisa that behavior was excessively childish. Though I couldn't see her face, the crossed arms on her chest gave it away — she was offended.
I quickly pulled the sweater back on without changing my pants. Though at that moment I didn't really have the opportunity anyway.
Well, whatever.
"You can turn around."
"And now I don't want to."
She declared proudly, puffing up even more. Her head tilted upward confirmed it.
Today… Ah, no. Just like always.
.
The sky, which just a moment ago had shimmered in orange-red hues, was now completely dyed a deep indigo. That meant much more time had passed than I would have liked.
It felt as though we were gathering shell fragments, trying to glue our relationship back together. A relationship that, in reality, hadn't even been broken.
I understand that part of it was my fault. Most of it, to be precise. But how else could I have acted?
No matter how much I thought about it, the answer never came.
If I had greeted Luisa with open arms — it would have been pretense. And if I had asked "why" — there wouldn't even be fragments left.
I never found the golden mean. I remained somewhere in between — accept and push away.
A journey of a thousand li begins with a single step — but no one said that sometimes you have to start over from the very beginning.
No matter how much had already been done, it felt like another thousand li lay ahead of me. I get nervous just watching Luisa rummage through her bags. And my heart pounds so loudly it's as if we're meeting for the first time.
Strange. Because when we first met, I wasn't particularly anxious.
I stole another quick glance in the mirror — the sweater still hung on me just as horribly. I didn't understand why I kept looking again and again.
I closed my eyes and sighed — as if the breath could fog the glass and change the reflection. I opened them — nothing had changed. Of course.
"You can go ahead. I'll get changed."
Luisa said without lifting her head. That's how I got my answer — about what she had been searching for all this time.
Though… I don't think I had actually asked.
Judging by how she switched from one bag to the other, she herself didn't know where she had put what.
"I can wait."
At first I wanted to offer help, but decided against digging through someone else's bags. After all, who knows what I might find in there.
Luisa raised her head and blinked several times. When her face twisted into a grin, I realized — something weird had just occurred to her.
"You want to watch?"
"Watch what?" — I almost asked, but for some reason stopped myself.
The accusation was so absurd it didn't even need a comment. I just stared at her, not understanding where she had pulled that from.
At the same time, not getting any reaction from me, Luisa began to blush. Her lips trembled as if she were about to cry from embarrassment.
It was hard not to notice how vividly her expression changed. While my thoughts flowed like a stream, her face was more like a wave.
Luisa hurriedly turned away. But I could still see how red the tips of her ears had become.
"Just go already."
"Okay."
I shrugged and — after one last glance in her direction — left the room.
I don't know why, but right now I felt calmer. My heart immediately settled the moment I saw the familiar Luisa. Her pushiness was exhausting.
It was like playing hide-and-seek in an open field: no matter how hard I tried to hide, I was always found and dragged back.
Something more like ping-pong suited me better.
Hm…? Never mind.
In recent days the temperature in the house had always been the same: not cold, but not hot either. My body seemed to decide for itself which state to lean toward. For example, when Luisa first arrived — I was shaking all over, but now it felt like I was standing under spring sunlight.
Maybe it was the sweater again? Was it really that thermally resistant?
I pulled the collar back as if looking for a tag on the inside. There wasn't one. I don't even know why I thought there might be.
Well, whatever.
And yet, I didn't immediately realize that by setting one dilemma aside, I had gained a new one.
When I reached the stairs, I once again discovered that the sleeves were far too long. It didn't stop me from managing them, but holding the railing would be difficult. I might slip.
The kitchen door was open. I could hear lively voices coming from there. I could have called someone, but… I could already picture Luisa's smirk.
Though usually I wouldn't care, right now I wanted to avoid it.
Maybe I should just wait for her?
It seemed like a reasonable decision, but also tiring. Why should I have to wait for her outside my own room?
…And walking in at the wrong moment wasn't something I wanted either.
I sighed. Somewhere I had heard that happiness escapes with sighs. At the same time, I never noticed it arriving with inhales. Too convenient a saying.
Everyone knows what not to do. But no one ever specifies what you should do.
Because of the endless stream of thoughts, the engine in my head stalled.
Using that as an excuse, I stepped down onto the first stair and sat on it. Then I spread my legs and stretched upward.
"Oh!" I exhaled out loud when the sleeves slid down, finally freeing my palms.
The obvious solution came to me in the least obvious way. Maybe deep down I never really wanted to go down by myself?
No, no, no.
I shook my head and began rolling up the sleeves to my elbows.
When I finished, I wasn't so sure I had made the right decision. My arms felt heavy — as if someone had tied two beehives to them.
Now I better understood people who carried invisible watermelons under their arms. My hands wouldn't meet, and the fabric pressed into my ribs whenever I tried to bring them together.
From that point of view, waiting for Luisa wasn't such a bad idea after all. But it was too late. I could already hear her bursting into laughter the moment she saw me like this.
I caught myself sighing again. It seems today I exhaled more air than I could possibly inhale. If it weren't for these two enormous biceps, I probably would have floated away like a balloon.
I ran my fingers through my hair, pushing it back, and stood up. If I kept sitting like that, all my efforts would be meaningless.
With determination — or something close to it — I grabbed the handrail and began slowly descending.
One step. Another. And another…
And yet practice was bearing fruit — I went down faster than usual. Maybe in the near future I could even start skipping every other step…
I wish I could say that.
I had never once felt relief after going up or down the stairs. All I ever wanted was to flop around on the floor like a shrimp — and scream about how tired I was.
I don't know what caused it this time, but my body was covered in sweat, and my throat felt dry as if I had crawled through a desert.
It no longer mattered what Luisa would think — I had made it. That was enough, I suppose.
Taking a deep breath, I felt a strange relaxation. For a moment there were no voices, no heaviness in my body. Just silence. I would be lying if I said I didn't like that feeling at all.
I shifted my gaze to the window. At the same time, I felt the accumulated fatigue leaving my body even more strongly. The moment I stopped, the sweat on my skin began to cool. A shiver ran through me. Pulling myself away from the view, I quickly headed to the kitchen.
It had always been a mystery to me what Mom had cooked today. Not because she tried to surprise me every time, but because at some point she simply stopped asking what I wanted.
"You always answer the same thing — 'whatever'. So I stopped asking," she had declared once.
The fact that I didn't show much interest in food didn't mean I disliked how Mom cooked. But I didn't have enough culinary knowledge to ask for anything specific.
For example, once I wanted omurice and asked for it. She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow as if to say: "What's that?"
The main problem was that I didn't really know either. I had to laugh it off. And that was the end of it.
All of this is to say — I didn't quite understand what exactly I was smelling, but… my stomach started growling the moment I entered the kitchen.
"Oh, Yori, you… khm."
Mom's impulse quickly faded the moment she saw me. Why? I even unconsciously tilted my head to the side, causing my hair to fall over one eye.
"What about me?"
At the same time, I noticed that Euriel hadn't left yet and was staring at the ceiling. I followed his gaze, but didn't see anything.
And as for Dad…
"Nothing, nothing. Where's Luisa?" Mom asked, still standing with her back to me.
"Getting changed."
Seriously, what is going on?
Mom and Euriel weren't even looking in my direction, and Dad looked like he had eaten too much and it wouldn't go down anymore. Part of me felt this should bother me more, but in the end I decided to pretend I hadn't noticed anything at all.
Ignoring the strange behavior of everyone around me, I made my way to my chair and climbed onto it.
"I think you were right to refuse the dress," Mom declared, still with her back to me.
I don't know why, but I remembered almost everything from the moment I was born. Or almost everything. That's why the dress incident stuck in my memory. I just didn't quite understand why it was being brought up now.
"Probably. What about this?"
"You know…" Dad probably swallowed a lump of food and began twirling his finger near his temple. "…if you don't have enough clothes — just say so."
Clothes? I thought I had plenty.
Of course, I mostly wore the same things, but not because of a shortage. I had simply grown very attached to that T-shirt with the pinky-sized hole already worn through it.
I blinked and looked down at myself.
"Oh…"
The sleeves looked like pagodas, and the hem of the sweater hung so low it resembled…
I wanted to immediately unroll the sleeves to look less ridiculous, but stopped. I remembered how long they were — I simply wouldn't be able to eat.
I felt a slight burning in my cheeks and reached up to scratch one. The awkwardness was quickly turning into something unpleasant. At the same time, I didn't want to disregard Luisa's gift.
From the outside it might have looked like I really would let her make every last decision in my life.
"It's… a gift."
That wasn't entirely a lie. But I'm not sure that almost forcibly pulling the sweater onto me could be called a gift.
"Listen," Dad reached across the table to touch my shoulder. "It doesn't suit you. Who better than me to tell you the truth?"
"You're the last person I want to hear that from."
Though I wouldn't say it runs in my blood — there were certain things I inherited from Dad. Terrible taste in clothes was one of them.
It's not that I liked how I looked, but his remark made me puff up.
"Sometimes the attention matters more than the result. Probably."
Even though Euriel was trying to support me, maybe. He even turned his head in my direction. His eyes remained closed, as if he were speaking in his sleep.
"Well, thanks."
Right after that, his head slowly tilted to the side. Had he actually fallen asleep?
His behavior often left me confused, but this was a new level. I removed Dad's hand from my shoulder and started eating, no longer reacting.
"No. Pink definitely doesn't suit you," Dad muttered, lowering his head toward his plate.
Maybe he had already forgotten, but my eyes were almost the same color as the sweater. It felt like he wasn't just criticizing my clothing choice, but my entire appearance.
By the way, another detail I got from Dad — the color of my eyes.
And yet, "pink" sounded too ordinary. There was a better word associated with this shade.
"Cherry."
"Hm?"
"The color is called cherry."
Dad thought for a moment, as if trying to remember what the word meant. I wouldn't have been surprised if he were hearing it for the first time.
"Cherries are tasty," he nodded thoughtfully.
Seriously? That's all he thought about? Well, at least he knew what it was.
I hope we were actually talking about the same thing.
"Well, you won't know until you try. You're always… well… cute."
No matter which way you looked at it, Mom's comment had nothing to do with me. She realized it herself, judging by how hard it was for her to find the words.
Mom came over and patted me on the head. Or rather — ruffled my hair.
Everything around me seemed to blur, and my head kept swaying from side to side even after she took her hand away.
I never turned toward her — I was afraid she wasn't looking at me either. That would devalue her attempt, so I decided to stay ignorant, hovering over my plate like that.
"Yeah. If you only keep the head."
"Shut up already," Mom growled, and Dad quickly lowered his head.
.
"How much stuff did you even bring with you?"
Luisa came down only after everything had already happened. And that saved me from her mockery — I had managed to unroll the sleeves in time.
By then dinner was already over, and Euriel had to wait for her by the front door to say goodbye. At the same time — despite all the time spent — Luisa looked perfectly normal.
The conclusion suggested itself: she had brought so much that she simply couldn't find something to change into quickly.
"What do you mean?"
"You took forever to get changed."
"O-o-oh." She drew out the sound.
I don't even know what that was supposed to mean. But her head tilted slightly to the side. Her eyes opened wide, looking either cheeky or innocent — hard to tell which.
She was also hiding something behind her back. Another pink thing? I'd lose my mind if it really was.
Maybe I could pretend I didn't notice? I had gotten pretty good at that before.
Luisa beat me to it. Before I could move, she pulled her hands out from behind her back and stretched them toward me.
"This is for you," she declared solemnly.
Or at least it felt that way.
In her small palms lay a little pouch — not pink — hastily tied with green thread, or something like it. The fabric itself was red, as if she were handing me a package straight from Santa.
I don't think I'd been good enough to deserve anything like that.
"And… what is it?"
"Open it and find out."
She insistently shoved the pouch into my hands, practically forcing me to take it. I even recoiled a little as I accepted it.
By the weight I still couldn't tell what was inside. One thing was clear — it was heavy. Maybe she decided to give me her favorite pebbles, like a penguin?
Knowing Luisa — I wouldn't have been surprised.
There was nothing else to do — I started untying the knot. It was enough to pull on the little loop and the pouch opened.
Without much expectation, I peeked inside and…
Wait… what is this?
I looked closer, but it didn't become any clearer. Square little bricks, resembling pieces of a construction set, filled the space almost to the top.
I took one — by weight it really did feel a bit like a pebble. But it quickly began to melt, leaving a brown streak on my fingers.
Chocolate.
"Oh, um. You bought this?"
Now I was curious where she had gotten it from. The chocolate Dad and I ate was shaped much more neatly. I wanted to know where she had found a stall with such clumsy confectioners.
"Yesterday, on the way back with Uncle…" She crossed her fingers, rocking from heels to toes. "…I saw people…"
"Saw people buying chocolate and wanted to buy some too?"
At the same time, the chocolate in my fingers kept melting. I quickly popped it into my mouth. But instead of sweetness, I tasted salt. I couldn't help wincing.
"Ha-ha-ha."
Luisa laughed nervously, fidgeting with her fingers.
Salt isn't the first thing that comes to mind when you think of chocolate. But that still didn't explain why she suddenly laughed.
Or was this some kind of joke?
"I… made them."
"What did you do?"
She awkwardly rubbed her palms together, as if trying to shape snowballs out of air. At the same time her cheeks flushed a little, and she stared at my legs.
It seemed this was her way of showing that she had made them by hand or something like that. Honestly, it was hard to tell from her movements.
I couldn't deny that the taste was quite specific. Like salted caramel — not great at first, but once the shell melts away, a completely different flavor opens up.
And yet it still felt strange.
It would have been much easier if she had just shoved it into my mouth. Then I could have laughed it off. Like with the sweater.
But this was a gift. And I had to make an effort to accept it properly.
Had I said "thank you" correctly? Did I look grateful enough? Should I open the gift right now, or could I put it off until later? Usually those kinds of questions raced through my head.
For some reason the most ordinary things always came to me with difficulty. Or… didn't come at all.
"It's… unexpected. In every way. But… thank you. Really."
I reached for her head, intending to pat it — and once again discovered how much taller she was. If Luisa didn't constantly slouch, I probably wouldn't even be able to reach.
"Always so weird."
I didn't want to hear that from her, but I didn't say anything.
At the same time, Luisa leaned forward a little, as if hinting for me to keep petting. I had no doubts left that Luisa was a cat — or, more precisely, a Vesperia.
No resemblance to me at all. I don't understand why she called me that too.
Stra… No, I won't repeat after her.
And also — I hope she wasn't expecting a gift in return. I hadn't even expected her today. Well, maybe… no, definitely not.
So of course I didn't have anything. I wonder when she even found time to prepare all this? Now that's someone who really… hmph.
There was still one question left: what was the reason for all these gifts? My birthday was in winter — Luisa had already given me the book we still hadn't opened. Though that detail had slipped my mind.
It wasn't hard to guess when I saw something in my room that didn't belong to me. Okay. Joke.
Among all of Luisa's things I hadn't even noticed another book. And she hadn't drawn attention to it either. The realization came completely by accident.
I had closed the curtains right after waking up — so when we came back, the room was dark. I had hoped at the time that it would let me sleep a little more.
Unfortunately, getting up had been a mistake. No point thinking in hindsight, but I should have just turned the other way when the light hit my eyes. Not sure if that would have helped.
Well, whatever.
Almost immediately after I got up to go to the window — Luisa woke up. Maybe she hadn't been sleeping at all and was just waiting for me to get up. Hard to say.
But her phrase "I'm hungry" left me no chance to lie back down.
So now I had to open the curtains again to let light into the room. Outside the window a white world greeted me, as if it hadn't finished rendering yet. The trees were so covered in snow that their outlines blurred into the background.
Pressing my hand to the glass, I stood like that for a few moments, simply enjoying the view. The world on the other side was beautiful. Why had I never noticed that when I was outside?
Right. I simply never went out there. And that one time I did, my head was down, staring at the ground. Life for me had just been a moving picture.
The glass trembled from the winter wind, making me pull my hand away and climb down from the bed.
"What did you see out there?"
"Nothing."
"Then why were you looking?"
It was a good question. I really didn't have any particular reason to linger by the window. No matter how hard I tried, all I saw was endless white.
Not finding anything to answer her with, I shrugged. She huffed, clearly unsatisfied.
Walking around the room, I glanced at the bookshelf. I wonder why, out of all these, we had only read one? No, I knew that book was important to Luisa. But wasn't learning supposed to be about discovering new things?
Scanning the spines quickly, I stopped on one.
"And what's this?"
Among everything on the shelf, this one alone looked new. There wasn't a single trace on the cover that anyone had touched it. As if it had come straight from the factory — or wherever books are made — directly to my house.
Unlike the others, the color of this book's cover wasn't loud. Sort of brownish, I think. The letters didn't stand out — they were simply embossed into the binding.
"A book," Luisa nodded.
"Really?" I couldn't help raising my eyebrows at her obvious answer. "Yours?"
"Yours."
"Mine?"
"Yep."
As long as I could remember, I had never had books. Not in my room, anyway. Maybe somewhere else in the house. But that hadn't really mattered to me.
The writing here could hardly be called letters — a line, a dash, a wave. That's roughly how it looked to me.
Even after Luisa taught me to read, my opinion hadn't changed. The letters had to be memorized, not understood.
"And where did it come from?"
"Uncle and I gave it to you."
Didn't Euriel leave right after my birthday? So this was a gift? Why didn't anyone even mention it?
Knowing Luisa, it probably just didn't seem important to her.
I went to the table to get the chair. Dragging it across the floor, I placed it closer to the shelf. I climbed onto the seat and reached for the book.
Soft. As if the cover was made of leather, or something like that.
"Shall we read it?"
"I don't like that kind of thing," Luisa shook her head, as if confirming her words.
So that was the reason for the gift? She just didn't like it? Well, that was pretty selfish of her.
"And that's why you gave it to me?" I asked, putting the book back.
"Well… Uncle said you're really smart. I thought maybe you read stuff like that."
She shrugged, trying to act like it didn't matter.
"And you turned out to be, um…"
Luisa's voice suddenly trailed off, and her gaze darted to the side.
"Turned out to be… what?" I asked, climbing down from the chair.
I could see her lips part, then close. And again several times. As if she were chewing on something — words, probably.
What could she have been about to say that made her so nervous? Involuntarily, that nervousness transferred to me too. My hand started itching, and I rubbed it with my palm.
"Just… Yori," she answered almost in a whisper.
Yori? Well, yeah, that's my name. But why did it sound like an insult?
"Luisa."
Looking at her, I said her name back. There wasn't much meaning in it. I just returned her words to her.
"What?" She tilted her head, clearly not understanding what I meant.
"You."
"What about me?"
She asked so quickly it was as if she already knew what I was going to say. At the same time, a cheeky smile spread across her face. How obvious could she be?
I don't mean to say it was bad or anything. After all, that was exactly what made her…
"Luisa," I repeated again.
"What?"
She was clearly teasing me. It seems she instinctively found ways to always have the last word. Little dictator.
"Leave me alone." I waved her off and climbed back onto the bed.
"He-he-he."
Somewhere I had heard that it's better not to play by someone else's rules. I think I was starting to understand why.
Okay. I got a little distracted. Back to the important part.
"So why the chocolate in the first place?"
"I already told you — I saw other people buying it."
Her seemingly simple answer didn't inspire me much. How many people, upon seeing someone buy chocolate, would decide to make their own? Probably none.
It seemed Luisa herself wasn't bothered by that at all. She continued looking at me innocently, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
Maybe I really was overthinking it and there was no deeper reason?
Well, whatever.
I took another cube and put it in my mouth. Still the same — salty.