While lanterns floated on the river below and drums echoed from the festival streets, another corner of the city, high above, kept its own silence.

Stone steps climbed between a sheer wall and a steep drop where the whole city glittered – red traffic veins, rows of golden windows. A man walked alone, his shadow long under the lamps.

He paused halfway, the night breeze cool on his face. From here he could smell roasted soy, hear faint laughter carried up from the festival. For a heartbeat he simply watched the bright, living world that he no longer shared. He sighed and started upward again, each step deliberate.

Voices suddenly broke the quiet.

“I said we should leave earlier – our friends are waiting,” a young man called, hurrying down.

“If not for your Tokyo trip we’d be done already,” a woman teased, gripping his arm.

They both nodded politely. “Good evening,” they offered.

“Good evening,” the man replied.

Ayato’s lips curved in a faint smile as he followed them with his eyes. How many times had he and his husband traded such ordinary words on nights like this? The memory ached like a bruise.

The last flight of steps rose like a dark ladder into trees. He tightened his hand on the railing and kept climbing.

The cemetery waited at the top, small and hushed beneath cedar branches. Stones stood close together, each a sealed memory of a life reduced to ash and name. Ayato carried a simple bouquet of white daffodils tied with a thin ribbon.

He found the familiar gravestone and knelt. The candle was cold, the vase dry. Carefully he swept away leaves, poured fresh water, and struck a match until a soft flame glowed.

“Hi,” he whispered. “I brought these for you. I hope you still like them.”

Silence. Only the chirring of crickets, the soft hiss of distant traffic. He rested a palm on the cold stone, the chill seeping into his skin.

“Why did you go alone that night?” His voice cracked. 

The night held him, patient and silent.

Finally he whispered, “I… met someone. A student. He reminds me of you. The same quiet courage you had… he has it too. He needs help. I want to give it, but… I failed you. And I’m afraid.”

A breath shivered from him. “I couldn’t save you. I don’t want to fail him. But I don’t know if I’m strong enough. And yet… he has no one else. Maybe this is my chance to do something right. I hope I’m making the right choice.”

When he lifted his gaze, the candle flickered once and went out, leaving a wisp of smoke that drifted into the star-lit dark.

Where one candle faded, another sparked to life.

Down by the river, where lanterns drifted on quiet water, Shin lowered his own candle into the current and walked toward a bench where Yahiko sat.

“Hey,” Shin said softly. “How’s the festival?”

“Fine,” Yahiko replied, motioning for him to sit. A quiet heaviness stayed in his chest, but he hid it behind a faint smile. “Where’s your family?”

“Ah, Ryota wanted some treats, so they all went to the food stalls.” Shin tilted his head toward the food stalls here his parents and brothers stood laughing together.

“They look… happy,” Yahiko said with a small, wistful smile.

Shin studied him for a moment. “You’ve barely said a word tonight. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Yahiko’s smile thinned, tinged with sadness.

Shin leaned a little closer. “Is this about that trip? The hot-spring thing?”

“What about it?” Yahiko looked up.

“You know—when Denji and his gang got carried away. They were fooling around and let too many pheromones out, and I sort of blacked out for a minute. It happens to omegas. No big deal.”

“It’s not a joke, Shin,” Yahiko said quietly. “Don’t treat your status like it’s nothing. What if something worse had happened?”

“Nothing would’ve happened,” Shin replied with a quick shrug. “Denji and those guys just like to show off. And with all the alphas in my family, he knows better than to even think about it.”

Yahiko fell silent, worry still lingering in his eyes.

Shin’s voice softened. “Honestly? I don’t think these alpha/omega labels decide who we get to be. You prove that every single day. As long as people like you exist, the world’s not such a bad place.”

“…Thanks, Shin,” Yahiko said quietly.

From across the square a woman’s voice called, “Shin!”

“Oh, that’s my mom.” Shin stood, brushing off his knees. “Not sure how long our mountain trip will last, but I hope we meet again before the school starts.”

“Yeah. See you.” Yahiko nodded.

When Shin disappeared into the crowd, Yahiko pulled out his phone and typed a brief message: I’m ready.

The moment it was sent, his grandmother appeared, warm and smiling.

“There you are! Come on, let’s buy some apples. Come on, let’s get those candied apples everyone’s talking about.”

“Better get your teeth ready, Gran,” Yahiko said with a small laugh, sliding the phone into his pocket.