It all happened so fast.
Not long after that strange and fateful meeting with that boy—I lost my mother.
It felt like one moment I was walking under the cherry blossoms, wondering about new beginnings, and the next... I was standing in front of a casket that held the woman who had always been by my side.
"Dad…"
My voice trembled as I reached out and held my father's hand. He didn't respond at first. He just stood there, motionless, his eyes locked on the peaceful face of my mother as she rested in silence.
His hand was cold. Not just from the temperature of the funeral hall, but from the weight of grief.
"…Alicia," he finally said, gripping my hand tightly. His voice cracked as he forced out my name.
It was the first time I had heard my father's voice sound so fragile.
The funeral was quiet—dignified. Many of my father's colleagues were there, offering condolences in low murmurs. I didn't understand most of what they said. It all passed by like a blur, like someone else's dream I had wandered into.
When it was time to send her body back to Canada, her homeland, I remember standing at the airport, holding onto my small suitcase. I wasn't sure how to feel. I had never seen my father look so small. His tall, dependable figure now seemed like it could collapse under the weight of his sorrow.
We flew to Alberta for the second funeral.
There, we were welcomed by my mother's family—relatives I had only met once or twice in childhood. Aunts and uncles, cousins I barely remembered, all gathered to say goodbye to the woman who had once connected us.
As the snow fell quietly outside the chapel, I sat beside my father in the front row. His eyes never left the casket. I wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in my throat.
That night, after the funeral, I found him in the kitchen of my aunt's house. He was standing by the window, holding a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold.
"Dad…"
He turned, surprised. His expression softened the moment he saw me.
"Can't sleep?"
I shook my head and walked up to him.
"…Neither can I," he added with a faint smile.
I hesitated for a moment before asking, "Do you… miss her?"
He looked out the window again. The snow was still falling. "Every moment."
He set the cup down and knelt in front of me. Then, gently, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
"You have her eyes," he whispered. "Whenever I look at you, I feel like I haven't lost everything."
I bit my lip, trying not to cry.
"But… she's gone…"
"I know," he said. "And that's why we'll keep living. Together."
He pulled me into a hug, and for the first time since the funeral, I let the tears fall freely.
…
A few weeks later, we returned to Japan. My father's job required it, and he believed that returning to our routine would help us heal.
But everything felt… different.
Our apartment was the same, yet colder without her warmth. The air smelled different. The light coming through the window didn't feel quite as bright.
One night, I woke up needing to use the bathroom. As I walked past the living room, I paused when I heard my father's voice.
"…Mariea, could you help me with Alicia…?"
He was speaking on the phone. The name he mentioned—Mariea—was unfamiliar at first, until I remembered it belonged to the mother of that boy I'd met not long ago.
I didn't linger. I quietly turned and returned to my room, pretending I hadn't heard a thing.
Part of me was scared.
Scared of being a burden.
Scared that my father was already reaching out for someone else because I wasn't enough.
But I kept those feelings to myself.
…
The seasons turned, and spring arrived once again. With it came my entrance into middle school.
As I stood among the crowd of new students during the ceremony, I felt like I didn't belong. The other students were laughing, excited, hopeful. I just… stood there.
Maybe it was because of my blue eyes, or the golden strands of my hair that refused to conform to the sea of dark heads around me.
People stared. I was used to it. But it didn't make it any easier.
"Alright, everyone," our homeroom teacher called out with a cheerful tone, "It's time to introduce yourselves!"
One by one, students stood and gave their names. I waited in silence until—
"Alicia-san, it's your turn."
I stood up, brushing the hem of my skirt nervously.
"…Alicia Lunar Rose. It's nice to meet you all," I said, my voice calm but distant.
Then I sat back down.
It was a simple introduction. Nothing more. Nothing less.
…
But something strange happened after that.
The teacher looked confused. She flipped through her attendance sheet and frowned.
"…It seems we're missing one student."
The class immediately began to stir.
"Huh? Someone's skipping already?"
"Wow, bold move."
"Maybe they just overslept?"
That's when it happened.
Slide—
The classroom door opened.
A boy stepped in. His hair was green, a soft mossy color, and his eyes… they were a familiar shade of blue.
"I'm sorry I'm late," he said, catching his breath.
There was a sakura petal clinging to his hair, swaying gently as he walked inside.
"You! It's your first day and you're already late?" our teacher snapped.
"My apologies. Due to personal reasons, I couldn't make it on time."
She sighed. "Just introduce yourself and take a seat."
"Yes, ma'am," he said.
Then he turned to face us.
"My name is Shin Himeya. I was late due to some unavoidable circumstances. But I hope we can be friends."
He bowed politely.
Then, he lifted his head.
His eyes locked with mine.
He smiled.
He walked toward me.
No—he chose to walk toward me.
Despite the dozens of seats still open, he passed row after row… until he stopped at the one directly behind mine.
I could feel my breath catch in my throat.
The soft creak of the chair as he sat echoed louder than it should have.
Then came his voice—calm, gentle, and somehow familiar.
"Please take care of me, Alicia."
My heart stirred.
He knew my name.
Of course he did.
After all, I already knew his.
Shin Himeya.
The boy who helped me during the snowstorm...
After my mother died, we had never spoken until now.
But I knew.
I knew his name.
I didn't turn to face him.
But my fingers gripped the edge of my desk just a little tighter.
"…Y-Yeah," I replied, almost in a whisper. "Likewise."
I could feel his presence behind me—not heavy or overbearing, just… there.
Comforting, in an odd sort of way.
And even though I didn't look back… I could feel his gaze.
Warm.
Steady.
Like he wasn't seeing through me… but into me.
'Why do you smile like that when you look at me, Himeya?'
I wanted to ask.
But I didn't.