It came without warning—

drifting through the wind of the needle-covered ground—

a quiet voice, barely a breath.

---

"...Um, hey."

---

The sound reached his ears,

so faint it seemed it might shatter if he acknowledged it.

At first, he thought it was an illusion.

After all, for five long years,

she hadn’t spoken a single word.

Not even a whimper.

But now—

her body trembled ever so slightly on his back.

He had definitely heard it.

---

"...Onii-chan."

A name, whispered like sand on the wind.

So soft, he wouldn’t have caught it without leaning closer.

And yet—

those words pierced deeper than any scream could.

---

"I’ve been... trying to speak..."

Her voice broke, tangled with breath and fear,

but still she pushed on.

"...But I was scared... too scared to say anything..."

"...I thought if I did, you’d leave me..."

"...That you’d abandon me, just like everyone else..."

---

Kanata said nothing.

The words rose in his throat,

but he swallowed them.

Instead, he listened.

Because right now,

a little world was pouring out from her.

---

"But... even so..."

She took a shaky breath.

"You still carried me..."

"Without saying anything... even when it hurt... even when it was so hard..."

"...Thank you."

---

Silence returned,

laced with the sting of pain and raw air.

But her words—those simple, fragile words—

were the first expression of gratitude

he had ever heard in this hell.

In a world of screams, curses, and endless suffering,

someone had said “thank you.”

And in that moment,

it felt like something—just something—had changed.

---

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Tears she had forgotten how to shed.

A single drop fell to the needles below,

mingling with blood,

and slowly spreading into the ice.

That tear—

was proof that, for the first time,

she wanted to live.

---

Kanata smiled gently.

It was the first smile he had shown in five years.

"...I see."

That was all he said—

and then he walked on.

Hell hadn’t changed.

The needles still pierced his feet.

The blood still flowed.

But inside his heart—

something had shifted,

and that was enough.