He could be considerate, but he couldn’t say he truly understood how she felt.
Similarly, Ayame could never understand all of Renri’s childhood loneliness. People can only make their best guess at what others are feeling. The only thing Renri could do was be there for his wife.
“…”
After a moment of silence, Ayame looked at him.
“I’m sorry…”
“Huh? For what?”
“For…being so gloomy… And dragging you down, too.”
Renri wanted to sigh.
“I’d be more worried if you forced yourself to act cheery,” he replied with some force in his voice. “In times like this, you don’t have to put others first.”
Ayame smiled weakly.
She always paid attention to others.
For so long, Ayame’s life had consisted of trying to be of use, to be needed—especially if it meant helping her sister.
Now she felt like she had a hole in her heart.
Renri looked at his phone. Raicho’s last text read, “See you later!” Ruri’s was, “Take care of my sister!”
They were on the plane to Kyokoku already. He felt like a father with the way he worried about them, hoping they wouldn’t be worn out from the trip.
Both Ruri and Raicho were loud troublemakers, and sometimes Renri found them annoying. But they were always there for Renri and Ayame.
The couple had always lived on their own, but today, the house felt quiet and lonely.
Renri thought about what he could do for Ayame. Buying her something or taking her out somewhere didn’t feel like the right choice.
Ayame probably didn’t want to go outside, so Renri stood up from the couch and gave her a kiss on her pretty forehead.
“You need to eat, Ayame. I’ll make something.”
Renri whispered to her gently, and Ayame shyly touched the spot he had kissed. She nodded.
That day, the thoughts of many people crossed under the same sky.
Beyond the sea, in Kyokoku, the young god of Autumn waited for the arrival of Yamato’s goddess.
He stared at the calendar in his room in silence.
The decor of the young god’s room was in a modern, urban style, and the furniture was classy and luxurious. It was an ideal room for an adult man, but not what you would expect from a boy under ten.
Everything looked borrowed, and the only proof that the room belonged to the boy at all was the teddy bear on the bed.
“…”
The day hadn’t come yet, but he couldn’t help thinking about it.
The boy left a strong impression on those he met. He was one of those people with an aura about him that drew the attention of others.
He had long eyelashes, brown skin, and lustrous hair like a black panther’s. His eyes were wide and daring, shining like the stars in the night sky, and he had an air of loneliness about him.
Was it due to the life he’d lived, or was it because of his standing as the God of Autumn?
If Yamato’s Autumn embodied the season’s fragility and color, Kyokoku’s Autumn was an incarnation of the nostalgia the season brought.
The boy looked away from the calendar. His face seemed a little feverish.
He must’ve been practicing for manifesting the season.
A god incarnate who overused their divine powers could easily get sick with a fever. The cost was relatively small for such divine powers, but it was still harsh on the user, and it was particularly scary for small children.
Someone should have been looking after him, but he was alone in the room.
The boy promptly filled a cup of water from the kitchen and took the antipyretic analgesic that had already been prepared for him.
He trudged to the bed and threw himself on it, and his small body bounced lightly on the mattress. He crawled under the sheets like a rabbit wiggling back into its den.
He stayed in bed for about ten minutes, but nobody appeared.
I wonder what Mom and Dad are doing? What about everyone else?
The boy pondered.
He checked the phone next to the pillow and found an unread text. It was from his family, and he happily typed out a reply. But once that was done, he was alone again.
He stayed in bed for a while before a buzzer rang.
The door to the room was locked, so visitors had to ring the bell.
The boy walked to the door in silence.
“I brought you a little something to eat.”
On the other side was a maid, wearing a classic maid dress.
The helpers were on a shift rotation, and there were many of them. They wore no name tags, and she hadn’t told him her name when she introduced herself, so the boy still didn’t know what to call her.
But he didn’t need to.
He had been told not to forge a close relationship with anyone.
“Thanks,” he said, trying to take the bowl from her, but she shook her head and placed it on the table.
The presence of two chairs only emphasized that he lived alone.
The woman promptly tried to leave, but then she remembered she had one other thing to take care of.
“I’ll get your laundry,” she said, disappearing into the bathroom. She reemerged with the laundry basket, but on her way to the door, one of the towels fell out.
“Here.”
The boy picked it up and held it out to her. He wanted to put it back in the basket, but she pulled away.
“…”
There were a few seconds of silence.
You know I still can’t touch you from here, right?
Feeling empty, he carelessly dropped the towel on the floor again. He didn’t want to, but he’d learned that she preferred that.
“…You can get it. I’ll stay back.”
The woman picked it up with an awkward look on her face and then scurried out the door. Unsure what to do with his hurt feelings, he dived back into bed.
About ten more minutes passed before the buzzer rang again.
“…”
He didn’t try to open the door this time. It opened on its own.
“How was training, Liam? Did you get it right this time?”
The boy immediately replied with an insult to the man:
“…Shut up and die.”
The man snorted at the curses coming from the bed.
“I can’t die. I have someone to protect.”
The man, in his twenties, spoke sweetly, as befitting his appearance.
His blond hair was neatly combed, and his body was trained to balanced proportions. His skin was fair, his teeth shiny, and his eyes blue like the alluring sea. His smart-looking glasses fit him well, too. He was picture-perfect.
Yet the boy was not kind to his handsome servant.
“…And who’s that?” he grumbled, clicking his tongue.
The boy, Liam, had been hurt by the man’s words.
I know it’s not me.
That was what his instincts told him.
“…You.”
Liam’s words had hurt the man, too.
“Who else would it be? I’m your Guard…”
The man hunched his shoulders, looking like he was shrinking under a freezing gust. Liam wasn’t sure what to say when the man was acting so dejected, but he was not going to apologize.
“Well, you sure neglect me an awful lot for being my Guard,” Liam replied with a pout.
I’m not saying sorry. It’s the truth.
He was adamant in his response. Liam was trying to be mean, but he couldn’t hide his loneliness. He was bitter because he wanted this man to pay attention to him. He wanted to see his reaction. He wanted to see whether he had the least amount of interest in him.