—You... are you Lucas?

The small woman before me spoke to the boy frozen in grief and fear. Snow-white hair, a slightly bent back. And olive-green eyes, the same as mine.

How had she found her answer from me, standing there unable to respond? The corners of the wrinkled woman's eyes softened, and her stern-seeming expression turned gentle at once.

—Good heavens. You've already grown so big...

I was fifteen. That day, after yet another fight with my mother, she'd dragged me in a rage to this unfamiliar doorstep and abandoned me there.

—I'm Amelia. ...Your grandmother.

She said this, then patiently coaxed me—unable to move from the front step—and welcomed me into her home.

That night, when I lay wrapped in freshly laundered sheets for the first time in my life, I cried a little. What I'd always wanted, I realized, was probably this—clean sheets washed just for me.

"Luke?"

Brian, standing beside me, brushed his fingertips questioningly against the back of my hand. At the concern in his eyes, I reflexively smiled back.

"It's nothing. I was just remembering Grandma."

"Ah." Instantly, his expression softened. "She was a truly wonderful woman."

"Yeah. Grandma's always been my pride."

Deepening his smile at my answer, Brian turned his gaze toward the lively circle of people chatting. The weather was as cheerful as if embodying today's guest of honor. The polar opposite of Brisbane's cramped-feeling sky—an endlessly wide, open blue. That blue, attended by modest clouds, sprawled arrogantly above the town.

To attend my grandmother Amelia's funeral, Brian and I had driven since early morning to our hometown. Our hometown, where a great river flowing through dry land served as the landmark. Though it was only about four hours by car, my Brisbane-accustomed body felt dizzy from this gentle flow of time and the vastness of the sky.

The ceremony, which had begun with a pretense of solemnity, had transformed into pleasant conversation by the time the sun passed its zenith—just as she had requested in her will. Having finished greeting the attendees with wine and light refreshments in hand, I'd claimed a spot under a tree slightly removed from the center of the circle, watching the people. The fatigue of travel, combined with the exhaustion from the past few days in Brisbane, seemed to hit me all at once. Surrounded by familiar land and well-known faces, I felt my heart finally shed its armor and take a breath.

Brian, who had been dragged around by the townspeople, seemed to have finally escaped the circle too. He wandered over, claimed the spot to my left, and began leisurely sipping his wine. The townspeople, unusually, weren't pestering us. They were probably being considerate of the poor man who had lost his beloved grandmother...

As if to flatly contradict that thought, a man in the crowd waved at me. An old friend I'd known since right after starting elementary school, though not as long as Brian. He wore a lustrous purple shirt, golden trousers, and a top hat—dazzling even from a distance.

The outrageously dressed man set his plate on a table and sauntered toward us. The coarse gold glitter reflected light chaotically with each step he took, and I seriously debated for a good three seconds whether to put my sunglasses back on. Brian, for the record, had immediately put his back on. The flood of light must have been unbearable for his light-colored eyes.

The walking disco ball reached the shade and clapped my shoulder.

"Yo. Long time no see, you two."

"Klaus. Good to see you're well."

While Brian responded politely, I raised an eyebrow sarcastically.

"Long time? Hasn't it only been about a year since we last met?"

At my snark, Klaus shook his head dramatically as if to say good grief.

"Only about a year! You've become a total city person, Luke. Cold bastard."

"Your sense of style is what's cold. Of all things, why did you think to pair this purple with this gold?"

"I pulled out the flashiest stuff from my closet. To honor your grandma's wishes."

Saying this, Klaus placed his hand on his chest with an affected air. Grandma would certainly have been delighted by this garish color combination.

"...Well, the funeral dress code is 'as colorful as possible.'"

"So like Amelia. You're a bit too plain and sticking out, Brian."

At Klaus's pitying comment, Brian groaned, "I tried my best." True, the combination of a navy shirt and crimson tie was probably an effort for him. It was just that he was at a disadvantage against a crowd wearing shocking pink mules and chartreuse suits.

"Luke, that, what is it? Shiny light-blue camouflage—where did you even find that pattern?! ...Well, that shirt with the lemon-yellow tie isn't bad. Not as good as me, though."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks."

I replied with a wry smile, and Klaus clapped my shoulder once more before sitting down on my right. I glanced down at his thick frame, probably twice my size. Already a father of three, those sturdy shoulders did seem fitting to support children.

"Amelia—your grandma. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Well, I think Grandma's having fun in heaven."

"No doubt." Klaus laughed, turning his gaze to the crowd. "A woman who loved many and was loved by many. —Hey, you doing okay?"

"With what?"

I looked down at Klaus blankly, and he met my gaze with eyes full of gentle concern. Blinking in surprise, it took me a moment to realize he was worried about me, who had lost family.

"Oh, you mean am I okay."

At my words, Klaus's eyes took on a pitying shade.

"Luke, man. Are you really okay...?"

"I'm okay."

I answered sullenly to him who had started genuinely worrying about me.

"Sure, I was shocked when I got the news. But now I'm strangely calm, even to myself. When I think about it, Grandma had been persistently telling me for years what to do when she died. Do this, do that—from Grandma herself."

"Oh..."

"Amelia..."

To the two men struck speechless, I exhaled a bitter sigh.

"At first, I'd get angry or sad, telling her not to say things like that. But she kept talking about her death while staying perfectly healthy for over a decade. Before I knew it, she'd completely prepared my heart for it."

Over my grumbling, the two exchanged glances.

"...Well, that does sound like Amelia."

"Come to think of it, Thomas said she'd arranged this whole funeral herself ages ago."

At that name, our three pairs of eyes were naturally drawn to the center of the crowd. People blooming with stories and memories of Grandma. In that scene made all the more joyful and gentle because it contained loneliness, one man with snow-white hair stood alone, wearing his usual plain monk's habit, a smile on his face.

The quiet priest of this town, who always seemed to be thinking about something difficult like a philosopher. He had agonized over Brian and me far more seriously than we had ourselves, and in the end, accepted us. He had always just smiled with a slightly troubled, downcast look—so when he suddenly choked up and shed tears during the ceremony, the attendees, myself included, were all stunned.

"Thomas, crying of all things..."

"Well, he apparently had a long relationship with your grandmother."

"He seems to have calmed down, though."

At my words, Klaus—who had been in the crowd just moments ago—nodded his short, coarse blond head.

"Yeah. He was back to his usual self."

"Amelia would probably be happy that an old friend mourned her death."

I didn't respond to Brian's perfectly ordinary words. Pretending to be lost in thought, I gazed at my feet through half-closed eyelids. The faux leather lemon-yellow shoes I'd bought to match my tie. The picture of a thoughtless, carefree grandson.

From beside his sturdy shoulder, Klaus looked up at me sideways as I fell silent. I pretended not to notice and averted my gaze, but finally couldn't stand it anymore and raised my eyes from my vitamin-colored shoes.

"...What?"

"Nothing. Oh hey, Brian. Have you seen Mr. Brown?"

"No."

"You should go say hello. He was looking for you, said he wanted to talk."

Brian held Klaus's gaze for a moment, then sighed.

"...You're right. I'll go."

"Yeah. He's probably still hanging around the meat pies. Give him this one's regards too."

"Why are you asking? I already said hello anyway."

"Yeah, yeah. Later then, Brian."

Brian nodded over his shoulder at Klaus's voice and strode away on his long legs. A dry, pleasant wind passed by us, and I saw it ruffle Brian's dark hair. In time with it, the world danced, cloaked in light with perfect rhythm. Grandma must have chosen it. To the BGM of "Let It Be," the trees, the grass, the reddish-brown dust, someone's silk scarf—all reflected light and swayed in the wind with timing that no stage director, however skilled, could have achieved.

My hometown, which I once thought held nothing beautiful, now undulated before me in a scene so lovely it could be mistaken for paradise on earth. An overwhelming flood of light that even Renoir couldn't match.

"Lucas. I'm sure you know, but."

A boorish voice trying to pull me back to earth called up to me from somewhere around my feet.

"He wasn't saying you're not mourning Amelia."

At Klaus's somewhat admonishing tone, I sighed, feeling oddly distant from my own words.

"I know."

"Good, then."

Saying this, he wore that terribly gentle smile again. Everyone insisted that having children alone didn't make you an adult. But people with someone to love unconditionally seemed like a different species entirely.

"...Well, I won't say it doesn't bother me at all."

Giving up on being stubborn with my old friend who had evolved into a father, I let words spill out with a sigh.

"Hey, Klaus. Do you think I'm heartless for not crying at Grandma's death?"

"Don't be stupid."

Klaus's voice wavered with shock, as if the words had been thrown at him. Pushed by that tone, words overflowed from my mouth.

"I was shocked when I heard about Grandma. I really was. I know she's no longer in this world, and every day I'm reminded of how much she gave me. But Grandma told me not to be sad, said if I grieved I'd never see her again, said she'd be happier if I didn't cry—"

Klaus rose slowly beside me. He looked down at me, frozen mid-sentence, and wrapped me in his arms.

Through the lustrous purple shirt, my body was pressed against his plump chest and slightly soft belly. As I meekly accepted the embrace, my awareness was drawn to the sensation of a soft palm stroking my head. It was more comfortable than I'd imagined. Surprised by the comfort, I found myself quietly accepting his embrace.

Klaus held me to his chest and exhaled deeply.

"Poor thing."

With those words, Klaus continued stroking my head. Poor thing. Someone had been comforted with those words recently.

Klaus continued in a low voice.

"Words are difficult. It must be hard to be told not to grieve. But I understand Amelia's feelings too. She was far more worried about clouding your smile with her death than about dying itself. I understand."

He released me from listening to the sound of breath in his lungs and peered into my eyes.

"Don't feel guilty about smiling, Luke. That would hurt her the most."

At his weighty words, I had only been nodding, but prompted by his bright amber eyes, I obediently said, "Okay." I gave up. My memory didn't contain anything like a proper father figure, but he seemed more fatherly to me than any TV drama dad I'd ever seen.

Klaus returned his gaze from me to the plaza. Peeking at his characterful profile, I quietly suppressed a sigh of admiration. Damn, my old friend with whom I'd done so many stupid things was now a hero supporting his family.

Leaning against the large frame of my old friend, who held my shoulder comfortingly, I too turned my gaze back to the plaza. Carried on the wind, Grandma's favorite songs reached us.

"This BGM selection—was it Amelia too?"

"I think so. They're all songs Grandma used to sing at home."

"I haven't heard this one before. What's it called?"

Prompted by his question, I listened to the flowing song. A pop melody swept in, chasing away the gentle afterglow of 'Let It Be.'

"I don't know, but Grandma used to sing this one a lot."

Overlapping my words came a cute singing voice in slightly clumsy English. That somewhat husky voice sang of the joy of meeting a destined partner.

Klaus, who had been listening to the song, spoke.

"...Hey, Luke. Are you staying overnight in town?"

"No. I have work tomorrow, so I'll head back by evening."

"Stop by and see Miriam before you go. You haven't really talked to her yet, have you?"

Apparently, he'd switched fully into dad mode. At the name of my mother coming from Klaus, I let out a sigh full of bitterness.

"I know. I told her in advance I'd stop by the house."

"Good then."

I answered Klaus's words with another sigh. Come to think of it, fathers, both past and present, also bore the role of being somewhat resented by their families. Klaus was fulfilling his given role admirably.

The mother I'd glimpsed earlier was still beautiful. Not a spot or wrinkle, dressed in a well-maintained party dress, makeup applied just pretty enough without being too severe. How she could emerge looking so beautiful from that chaotic, unmanageable house—I still couldn't fathom it.

—Ever since you met your grandmother, you only ever quote her words, don't you, Luke.

Words my mother had once said to me resurfaced, and I shook my head involuntarily.

—She might have been perfect to you. But to me, she was a failure as a parent.

Feeling terribly unpleasant, I forcibly focused my attention on Grandma's favorite song. You're the sun shining in a sky of headwinds, meeting you gave me a reason to live for the first time, let me sing this song to you...