Episode 1: “The world had ended. Yet even so‚ university still started from first period today.”
In the midst of a freezing silver wilderness‚ it was nothing more than a tiny
“dot”
barely remaining on the map.
The Thirteenth Settlement Zone — Miyuki Town.
Population: roughly forty.
Relying solely on geothermal heat welling up from deep underground to keep warm‚ cultivate greenhouses‚ and cling to fragile life — in this world of endless winter‚ it was just one of the ordinary
“isolated islands.”
That morning‚ too‚ the sky over Miyuki Town was leaden and stagnant‚ endlessly spitting out snow.
As far as the eye could see‚ the steep mountains and the places that had once been roads were all painted over in inescapable white.
In the communal housing on the east side‚ a middle-aged woman stood before a steaming pot.
Middle-aged woman: “...The water’s gotten a little lukewarm again.”
She glanced at the thermometer on the wall and let out a small sigh.
The geothermal supply temperature had dropped‚ if only slightly‚ compared to yesterday.
Even so‚ it was still enough heat to slowly simmer root vegetables and dried meat.
Middle-aged woman: “Dad‚ get up.”
She called toward the back room‚ and
Father: “I’m up now.”
came the transparent lie in reply.
She smiled wryly in exasperation.
In the western sector‚ a man in his thirties swung a shovel‚ dumping the heavy snow that had piled on the roof with a heavy *thud*.
Neighboring old man: “You did it yesterday too. You’re diligent.”
When the neighboring old man teased him from the window‚ the man
Man in his thirties: “If I slack off‚ the whole roof will collapse on us.”
laughed back‚ white breath puffing.
In the center of town‚ a young woman pushed open a heavy insulated door and stepped into the geothermal greenhouse.
The small twin leaves of
“green”
lined up on the shelves — in this snow-locked world‚ gems rarer than anything else — she checked them and narrowed her eyes affectionately.
Young woman: “Good‚ they’re still alive today.
You’ve grown.”
She murmured proudly‚ softly‚ to no one in particular.
It was an ordinary‚ peaceful morning that carried life forward to tomorrow.
But collapse always arrives in silence.
The watchtower rising on the northern edge of town.
With less than thirty minutes left until her shift change‚ the female lookout in her twenties stifled a small yawn.
Outside the window stretched the winter scenery she had long since grown too used to.
Snowfields‚ mountain ranges‚ sky.
Everything sank into bottomless white.
That was exactly why her eyes failed to recognize
“it”
at first.
Female lookout: “...Hm?”
She peered through the binoculars.
Beyond the lenses was only a flat snowfield.
Nothing.
Just as she was about to lower her hands‚ thinking it was her imagination — in that instant —
Part of the snowfield moved as if
“crawling‚”
tearing the pure-white sheet.
Four legs.
An unnaturally low center of gravity that seemed to glide across the snow surface.
One‚ and behind it two more —
In an instant‚ every trace of body heat was drained from the lookout’s spine.
Female lookout: “...White Beast (Blizzard Rex)?”
With numbed fingers she slammed the switch of the communicator with trembling force.
Female lookout: “This is the watchtower! Anomaly in the northern snowfield—”
But that report was mercilessly drowned out by a man’s voice‚ almost a scream‚ cutting in.
Man: “North gate! Close the north gate!”
Female lookout: “What’s wrong!?”
Man: “They’re coming! A pack of Blizzard Rexes!!”
With that scream as the trigger‚ a shrill alarm siren exploded throughout the town.
*Wuuuuuun* — a heavy bass that trembled the gut‚ like an earth rumble‚ tore apart the remnants of the modest everyday.
The woman extinguishing the pot fire.
The man thrusting his shovel into the snow.
The young woman shutting the greenhouse door‚ leaving only
Young woman: “Sorry”
to her precious seedlings before she ran.
The people of the town knew all too well.
How ferocious those monsters were.
And the cruel instinct of a pack that‚ once it had learned the scent of
“prey‚”
would pursue blood with such tenacity.
Someone: “Seal the north gate!”
Someone: “Hurry to the underground evacuation passage! Children first!”
Someone: “Abandon the greenhouse and the power facilities! Just take the lives!”
Even the shouts trying to maintain order were drowned out by the approaching presence of death.
Beyond the north gate‚ raising fierce snow dust‚
“it”
was closing in.
The pure-white giant bodies that had merged with the blizzard could not even have their outlines fully captured by the naked eye.
A tremendous impact sound.
The first one rammed it‚ and the thick metal gate door crumpled.
Defense personnel: “Shoot‚ shoot!”
The defense personnel pulled the triggers.
The gunshots were sucked emptily into the snowfield‚ and the white shadows leaped nimbly sideways.
But they did not fall.
Their speed did not even drop.
Someone: “It’s no good‚ fall back...!”
At the same time as the cry of despair‚ a sharp scream rang out from the depths of the residential sector.
In the direction the people who turned looked‚ a man lay collapsed in the snow.
Someone raised a gun and
Someone: “Don’t move‚ I’ll shoot!”
shouted — in that very moment.
A white shadow skimmed past‚ melting into the raging blizzard.
With that alone‚ the figure of the collapsed man vanished as if he had never existed from the beginning.
Someone: “...Eh?”
Left behind was a single glove that had fallen onto the fresh snow.
The man who had been clearing roof snow stared at it and‚ as if emptied‚ let out a hoarse voice.
Roof-snow-clearing man: “...That’s my little brother.”
No one had any words to return.
The siren continued to blare.
Gunshots exploded.
Screams chained together.
Even so‚ they could not stop their feet.
If they stopped‚ next it would be their turn to be
“erased”
from this world.
Someone: “Get into the underground passage! Count the number of evacuees!”
Someone: “There should have been forty people! How many are here now!”
Roll calls that threatened to tear throats flew.
Calling names‚ waiting for replies.
Someone: “Tanaka!”
Someone: “...Not here!”
Someone: “Sato!”
Someone: “Here!”
Someone: “Yamamoto!”
Someone: “No answer!”
One by one‚ the voices that did not return increased.
Population of forty.
On peaceful days‚ it had been nothing more than a statistical number.
But now‚ each time a blank appeared in a name‚ that
“symbol”
weighed heavily on the chests of the survivors as the death of a flesh-and-blood
“human.”
The young woman who had burst out of the greenhouse looked back only once just before fleeing into the dark underground passage.
The proof that they had lived.
The warmth of that greenhouse where they had raised green life.
That modest light hazed away beyond the ferocious snow dust.
They would never return.
Elderly man running beside her: “Don’t look!”
The elderly man running beside her yelled.
Elderly man running beside her: “Right now‚ just look ahead and run!”
The woman bit her lip until it bled and forced her gaze forward again.
She kicked the ground relentlessly.
Behind her‚ the gruesome sound of something precious being broken resounded.
If you looked back‚ despair would trip your feet and you would die.
That alone was the absolute truth of this frozen world.
Eventually‚ the alarm sound cut off abruptly.
Miyuki Town had regained its original silence.
Snow continued to fall as if nothing had happened‚ and white geothermal steam rose.
The greenhouse and the houses were simply still there.
Only‚ roughly half of the population of forty had been cleanly carved away from it.
The surviving twenty were fleeing south across the extreme cold snowfield.
Someone: “...Right now‚ the ones here are”
Someone: “Twenty.
No matter how many times I count‚ only twenty.”
No one let out a breath of relief.
Whether this number was many or few.
No one’s emotions could keep up anymore.
The only certain thing was the cold fact that behind them lay their literally dead hometown‚ and ahead of their gaze was the Eleventh Settlement Zone — Mizumori Town.
The man walking at the front gripped the radio with a hand whose sensation was nearly gone.
Lead man: “This is... Miyuki Town‚ evacuation team.”
*Zaza*‚ the sea of noise sounded.
After a prayer-like blank of several seconds —
Mizumori Town: “—This is Mizumori Town.
Go ahead.”
A faint‚ yet certain‚ voice of a flesh-and-blood human.
The moment they received that audio‚ several of those continuing the escape closed their eyes tightly‚ unable to endure it.
The man barely regulated his freezing breath and squeezed his throat.
Lead man: “Evacuation from Miyuki Town.
...Survivors‚ twenty.”
Mizumori Town: “Understood.
We will accept them at Mizumori Town.”
An inorganic‚ yet absolute response that meant salvation.
One woman collapsed crying aloud onto the snow‚ and the elderly man next to her pulled his hat deep over his face to hide it.
No one blamed them‚ and no one laughed.
They were alive.
Right now‚ that alone was a miracle.
Someone: “Let’s go.”
Someone murmured lowly‚ and the group of twenty once again stepped onto the snowfield and began walking.
Aiming for Mizumori Town thirty kilometers ahead.
This time‚ no one looked back.
—And therefore‚ no one noticed.
Far behind the endless snowfield they had walked.
Beyond the frozen horizon‚ a single white shadow stood.
Eventually‚ that shadow moved slickly.
In the southern direction the humans had fled.
One‚ then another.
Silently‚ the silver giant bodies began to follow‚ gliding through the snow.
They harbored no malice toward humanity.
They were not invaders who hated civilization and sought to destroy towns.
They were simply following the cold law of nature‚ tracking the scent of
“the prey (food) that fled.”
From Miyuki Town to Mizumori Town.
Across the white world of endless winter‚ the twenty humans fleeing despair and the pack of white beasts carrying death were advancing along exactly the same vector.
—The same morning.
Approximately 120 kilometers from Miyuki Town‚ in the Eleventh Settlement Zone “Yunohara‚” snow was also quietly dancing down.
But here‚ no one was running for their life.
What could be heard was not ear-splitting alarms‚ but the regular sound of shovels scraping snow.
Snowplows advanced leisurely along the roads‚ and pure-white steam rose abundantly from the chimneys of the hot-spring district.
People who had finished breakfast wrapped themselves in thick coats and left their houses.
Someone: “I’m off.”
Someone: “Take care.”
Someone: “The snow’s supposed to get heavier today.”
Someone: “Then come home early.”
Such ordinary conversations were exchanged at doorways here and there.
It had already been many years since the world ended.
That was exactly why people greeted the morning as a matter of course today as well.
Worked as a matter of course‚ went to school as a matter of course.
And.
As a matter of course‚ were about to be late for first period.
Haruka: “—Crap!”
A single girl was charging furiously along the packed snow path.
Haruka.
First-year at Yunohara University‚ Mechanical and Energy Engineering Department.
In one hand a bag.
In the other‚ a half-drunk paper cup.
The coffee inside had long since cooled to below freezing.
Haruka: “Crap crap crap...!”
Thick coat‚ muffler‚ gloves‚ snow boots.
Her cold-weather protection was perfect.
However‚ her own ability to wake up was fatally far from perfect.
Haruka: “...Why does first period have to start from first period...”
She muttered resentfully to no one in particular.
There was no possible answer.
Because university classes start from first period‚ it is first period.
While chewing on the world’s irrationality‚ she sped up further.
Turning the corner at the intersection‚ the buildings of Yunohara University came into view.
An old building that had been repaired many times.
The outer walls had patchwork-like repair marks‚ and the window frames mixed new materials with faded wood.
Even so‚ once you stepped inside‚ it was heaven.
The gentle air warmed by geothermal heat slipped in through the gaps in her coat.
Haruka: “...Warm.”
Haruka stopped at the entrance and exhaled a white breath with a *hoo*.
Outside snow was falling‚ inside the heating was working.
An all-too-natural scene.
But in this town‚ every single one of those
“naturals”
was threaded with the
“heat”
from underground.
Heating‚ hot water‚ power generation‚ greenhouses‚ hospital‚ and the university.
Almost all of the town’s lifeblood moved by the blessing of geothermal heat rising from beneath the ground.
Fuyuka: “Haruka!”
Suddenly a voice came from behind.
Turning around‚ there was the figure of a girl waving a small hand.
It was Fuyuka.
Same first year‚ same university‚ same department.
However‚ she was different from Haruka in various ways.
The cold-weather gear she wore was smart‚ and the luggage she carried was minimal.
She carried no extras‚ equipping only what was necessary‚ precisely.
That was Fuyuka’s principle and style.
Haruka: “...Morning.”
Fuyuka: “Late.”
Haruka: “The warning bell hasn’t even rung yet.”
Fuyuka: “Two minutes left.”
Haruka: “There’s still two minutes.”
Fuyuka: “Only two minutes.”
Haruka: “You’re so picky.”
Haruka tapped the tips of her boots against the floor‚ knocking off the snow.
Haruka: “By the way‚ Fuyuka‚ aren’t you way too early?”
Fuyuka: “Normal.”
Haruka: “I don’t think the world calls someone who sits down thirty minutes earlier than me ‘normal.’”
Fuyuka: “Far more normal than someone sliding in on the verge of being late.”
Haruka: “I have no comeback.”
Fuyuka’s sharp gaze shifted to the paper cup Haruka was gripping.
Fuyuka: “What’s that?”
Haruka: “Coffee.”
Fuyuka: “It’s cold.”
Haruka: “...You can tell just by looking.”
Fuyuka: “Are you going to drink it?”
Haruka: “I’m drinking it.”
Fuyuka: “Even though it’s ice-cold?”
Haruka: “I’m drinking it.”
Fuyuka: “Why?”
Haruka: “Because it’s a waste.”
Fuyuka: “Even though you have poor circulation.”
Haruka: “Shut up.”
Fuyuka let out a small sigh.
Fuyuka: “Haruka hoards everything.
The other day you were hiding a broken fan motor in the corner of the club room.”
Haruka: “I might use it someday.”
Fuyuka: “What about the leftover distribution board screws from last year’s experiment?”
Haruka: “They can be used for something.”
Fuyuka: “Then the bent metal fittings?”
Haruka: “I can fix them and use them!”
Fuyuka: “The completely burnt-out fuses?”
Haruka: “...Even those might be able to substitute for something.”
Fuyuka let out a deep sigh this time.
Fuyuka: “A typical potential garbage-house resident.”
Haruka: “They’re not garbage!”
Fuyuka: “Then what?”
Haruka: “...Shining‚ parts.”
Fuyuka: “Just garbage.”
Haruka: “Parts!”
At that moment —
In the hallway‚ the chime announcing the start of class rang out.
The two exchanged glances for just an instant.
Haruka: “...Let’s go!”
Fuyuka: “Yeah!”
They kicked the ground at the same time and ran toward the classroom.
In the hallway‚ there were several students dashing with hunched backs just like them.
Student A: “Morning!”
Student B: “Morning! Did you do today’s assignment!?”
Student C: “As if I’d do it!”
Student D: “Me neither!”
Student E: “I finished it.”
Student F: “You traitor!”
Such lively shouts and laughter flew about the narrow hallway.
No one spoke of the end of the world.
At least not amid this clamor.
They slid forcefully into the classroom door.
Haruka: “...Made it...!”
Fuyuka: “See‚ the teacher isn’t here yet.”
Haruka: “I won...”
Fuyuka: “Against what?”
Haruka: “Against the irrationality called first period.”
Breathing heavily with her shoulders‚ Haruka sat down in her assigned seat.
And then‚ she casually turned her gaze toward the window.
From the gray sky‚ white snow was falling silently‚ without pause.
From the hot-spring district visible in the distance‚ several streams of white steam rose.
And further beyond — the chimney of the geothermal power facility‚ the giant heart of this town‚ was powerfully belching smoke.
The usual scenery.
The usual morning.
The usual‚ beloved university.
The tension that had been taut unraveled‚ and Haruka could not hold back a big yawn.
Haruka: “...I’m ridiculously sleepy...”
Fuyuka: “Class is starting‚ so don’t sleep.”
Haruka: “Just one minute.
I’m just going to let my consciousness fly for one minute.”
Fuyuka: “Haruka’s ‘one minute’ has never actually been one minute.”
Haruka: “Then three minutes.”
Fuyuka: “Why is it increasing?”
Fuyuka shrugged her shoulders as if thoroughly exasperated.
In the seat in front‚ someone was hurriedly flipping through a textbook.
In the neighboring seat‚ the sound of a pencil case being overturned while searching for a pencil.
From the seat behind‚ a trivial whisper that last night’s dinner had been delicious.
Student G: “Hey‚ last night‚ wasn’t the hot-spring water a little lukewarm?”
Student H: “Was it?”
Student I: “It was just right for me.”
Student J: “That’s because Fuyuka doesn’t like it hot.”
Fuyuka: “It’s just that Haruka’s is too hot.
Are you an Edo native or something?”
Haruka: “It’s a hot spring‚ so hotter is better.
It wakes you up.”
Fuyuka: “You’ll get lightheaded with that.”
Haruka: “I won’t!”
Fuyuka: “Your face is red right now though.”
Haruka: “That’s‚ um‚ because it was cold outside!”
Fuyuka: “This is a heated indoor room.”
Haruka: “...”
Haruka clamped her mouth shut‚ at a loss for words.
Fuyuka’s mouth softened slightly in amusement.
Eventually‚ the professor stood in front of the lectern.
Professor: “All right‚ take your seats.
We’re starting.”
In an instant the chatter subsided.
The dry sound of textbooks opening.
The sound of chairs being dragged.
The faint sound of mechanical pencil leads being extended.
And so‚ the usual lecture began.
Machine structures.
Heat exchange.
Complex piping.
Energy efficiency.
Inorganic formulas lined up on the blackboard.
Haruka‚ propping her cheek with one hand‚ steadily copied them into her notebook.
Outside the window‚ only white‚ cold snow continued to fall.
Beyond that snow.
In a town a full 120 kilometers away —
This morning‚ twenty humans who had lost half their neighbors were wandering the snowfield‚ having abandoned their hometown‚ trembling at the shadow of the white demons.
But the students of Yunohara still did not know that.
No one at this moment realized that the balance of the world was beginning to collapse.
And so.
Haruka gave a small yawn.
Fuyuka quietly took notes.
The professor wrote formulas across the blackboard.
Someone murmured quietly
Student K: “I don’t get this problem at all”
and someone else
Student L: “I’ll show you my notes later”
answered kindly.
The world had long since ended.
Even so —
Today‚ university still started from first period.
Just before noon.
Finally the chime announcing the end of the long first-period lecture rang out.
Haruka: “It’s over... I survived...”
Haruka slumped bonelessly onto the desk.
Fuyuka: “Easy for you to say when you were sleeping the whole time.”
Haruka: “I wasn’t sleeping.
Absolutely not.”
Fuyuka: “In my field of vision you were nodding off grandly about three times though?”
Haruka: “Three times is within the margin of error.”
Fuyuka: “Margin of error for what?”
Haruka: “A little balance adjustment in life.”
Fuyuka: “So dramatic.”
Fuyuka sighed as if exasperated and closed her notebook with meticulous hands.
In the surrounding seats‚ students who had not yet moved to the next classroom were loitering in several clusters.
Student M: “What are you eating for lunch?”
Student N: “I hear the geothermal greenhouse cabbage is on the set meal today.”
Student O: “For real? Then cafeteria is the only choice.”
Student P: “Vegetables again? What about meat?”
Student Q: “If you have complaints about the precious greens of the literary club‚ grow them yourself.”
Student R: “I don’t.
I’ll gratefully accept them.”
Such trivial conversations were bouncing around here and there.
Haruka finally raised her heavy body and picked up her favorite bag.
Haruka: “I’m hungry...”
Fuyuka: “You just ate breakfast.”
Haruka: “For me‚ that’s already a distant past.”
Fuyuka: “You don’t call just two hours ago a distant past.”
Haruka: “...Yes yes.
Fuyuka-chan is a logic monster.”
Suffering a complete defeat in a brisk tempo‚ they left the classroom side by side.
The hallway was overflowing with students buoyed by the long-awaited lunch break.
But in a corner of that clamor.
Several staff members gathered in front of the bulletin board‚ talking in lowered voices‚ caught her eye.
Staff A: “—Since last night‚ it’s been completely cut off‚ it seems.”
Staff B: “Is that true?”
Staff A: “Yeah.
It was so sudden...”
Haruka’s steps slowed just a little.
But she could not hear any more of the adults’ strange conversation.
They hurried back to work as if startled‚ and the students passed by without seeming to notice.
Thinking it was her imagination‚ Haruka stepped forward again.
After a while —
Fuyuka: “Hey.”
Fuyuka walking ahead said quietly without turning around.
Haruka: “Hm?”
Fuyuka: “Saeki-san died yesterday.”
Haruka: “...Eh?”
Haruka stopped as if frozen.
Haruka: “Who?”
Fuyuka: “Saeki-san.
From Section One‚ the piping one.”
Haruka: “That... the one who always checked the main hot-spring facilities?”
Fuyuka: “Yeah.”
A familiar face floated up in Haruka’s mind.
He always wore old work clothes covered in oil and soot‚ and pulled a sooty cap deep over his head.
White was mixed in his hair‚ and his hands were large and knobby like rocks.
When Haruka threw rude questions about machines and equipment at him‚ he would brusquely push her away with “Students should just shut up and read textbooks‚” yet in the end he would look after her all the way.
The correct way to grip tools.
The peculiar warping of old piping.
How to make perfect substitutes from available scrap in a desperate situation where new off-the-shelf products were unavailable.
More than any professor at the university‚ he was the one who could be called Haruka’s muddy
“technology”
mentor.
Haruka: “...Yesterday?”
Fuyuka: “Yeah.”
Haruka: “But he was there normally during the day‚ right?”
Fuyuka: “He was.
Yesterday evening I saw him working near Spring No. 1.”
Haruka: “I saw him too.”
A life that until yesterday evening had certainly been there‚ holding heat.
Today‚ all too easily‚ without any omen‚ it disappeared.
Haruka opened her mouth as if to say something‚ could not find the words‚ and closed it again.
Haruka: “...I see.”
That alone spilled from her dry mouth.
Fuyuka did not press further.
The two walked side by side again with heavy steps.
From the hallway windows‚ the all-white world could still be seen.
Yesterday‚ today‚ and tomorrow as well.
Snow that knew nothing of human circumstances continued to fall with maddening indifference.
Haruka: “Was it illness?”
Fuyuka: “Probably.
I don’t know the details either.”
Haruka: “...I see.”
She did not add any more words.
Even if she pried‚ Saeki-san would not come back.
In this world‚
“death”
was not a particularly noteworthy tragedy.
In the merciless extreme cold‚ from sudden illness‚ from minor accidents‚ or by being swallowed by the silver abyss spreading outside‚ people expired all too easily.
That was why the people of Yunohara‚ when they heard of someone’s death‚ fell silent deeply only once.
And in the next moment‚ they returned to their respective posts as if nothing had happened.
It was by no means because they were cold-hearted.
It was because they knew from experience the cold truth that if the survivors did not continue turning
“today’s gears”
for the share of the dead as well‚ this town itself would freeze to death by tomorrow.
Watering the greenhouse seedlings‚ caring for the sickbeds‚ fixing the warped piping‚ shoveling the accumulating snow‚ filling their stomachs to live today.
The mental act of mourning the dead and the physical act of surviving the present were‚ cruelly‚ completely separate phenomena.
Haruka: “...Saeki-san.”
Haruka murmured softly‚ to no one who would hear.
Fuyuka: “What?”
Haruka: “No‚ it’s nothing.”
The connecting corridor leading to the cafeteria.
From the other side‚ a man approached.
A familiar technician belonging to the same equipment team as Saeki-san.
Fuyuka: “Good work.”
Fuyuka slowed her pace and bowed lightly.
Technician: “Yeah.”
The man raised a short hand as well.
However‚ what was gripped in his right hand — the heavy steel toolbox that should normally have been carried one in each hand‚ as if sharing the load for two people — was today only one.
Haruka stared hard at that blank.
But she said nothing.
The man said nothing either.
They simply passed each other’s shoulders in silence.
Just a little.
The corridor receding behind felt unnaturally wide‚ filled with an empty hollowness.
When they opened the cafeteria door‚ in contrast to the lifeless corridor‚ the usual nostalgic smells gently filled the air.
Damp hot steam.
The spices of stewed dishes.
Fresh leafy vegetables just arrived from the greenhouse.
And the savory aroma of baked bread tickling the nostrils.
Haruka: “Ah‚ today is completely a ‘hit’ day.”
Haruka deliberately raised her voice a little brightly.
Fuyuka: “What is?”
Haruka: “Bread‚ bread.”
Fuyuka: “Bread is always just bread.”
Haruka: “Today’s bread is special.
Look‚ there’s still a faint *pachi-pachi* sound — genuine fresh-baked.”
Fuyuka: “...Your particularity is detailed.”
Haruka: “This is the most important matter for living!”
Fuyuka softened her mouth just a little‚ as if exasperated yet affectionately.
Haruka: “Itadakimasu.”
Fuyuka: “Itadakimasu.”
The two put their hands together lightly.
Outside the window‚ only white‚ cold snow continued to fall.
In some unknown town‚ even at this very moment‚ someone might be desperately fleeing the claws and fangs of the white demons.
On some snowfield‚ even now someone might silently disappear into the white abyss‚ never to return.
And here in Yunohara as well‚ a life that until yesterday had certainly been there holding heat had today‚ just one‚ quietly vanished.
Even so — when noon comes‚ stomachs equally grow hungry.
Bread bakes fluffy‚ and the hot springs continue to well abundantly today as well.
There are always afternoon lectures at the university‚ and if the piping breaks tomorrow‚ someone remaining will have to fix it with freezing hands.
The world continues its walk‚ cruelly quiet‚ never stopping.
Haruka gently bit into the still-hot bread.
Haruka: “...Delicious.”
Fuyuka: “Is that so.”
Haruka: “Want some‚ Fuyuka? I’ll give you a bite.”
Fuyuka: “No need.
I already decided to eat the greenhouse cabbage earlier.”
Haruka: “Fresh-baked bread is a separate stomach‚ you know?”
Fuyuka: “Your excuse sounds like a high-school boy.”
Haruka: “I’m an active female university student—”
Fuyuka: “I know.”
Haruka laughed playfully.
Yet at the bottom of that smile‚ deep in her throat‚ the weight of the name she had heard earlier still settled undigested.
—Saeki-san.
The person who until yesterday had certainly been there.
Today.
From this world‚ one person was gone.
“In a world where winter never ends‚ the hot springs still well up today.”
A little before lunch break ended.
Haruka and the others left the lively cafeteria.
Haruka: “What’s the lecture this afternoon again?”
Fuyuka: “Heat exchange equipment.”
Haruka: “...The string of characters that induces sleepiness the most in this world.”
Fuyuka: “You said the exact same thing about the morning first period.”
Haruka: “The region of the brain used is different from the morning‚ so the quality of sleepiness is a different thing.”
Fuyuka: “Yes yes‚ say whatever you like.”
Fuyuka walked ahead as if exasperated‚ and Haruka chased after her back with small running steps.
The moment they pushed open the university’s heavy insulated door and stepped outside‚ piercing cold air mercilessly tore at their cheeks.
Haruka: “Cold...!”
Fuyuka: “That’s why I told you not to suddenly jump outside.
Your blood vessels will constrict.”
Haruka: “The running was this morning’s story.”
Fuyuka: “You were also kind of jogging just now.”
Haruka: “Imagination.”
Fuyuka: “I’ll let it be that.”
The two were walking the path toward the back of the university.
From here on‚ student figures disappeared‚ and instead adults in oil-stained work clothes hurriedly came and went in the sector.
Greenhouse‚ communal cafeteria‚ clinic‚ and the geothermal power and piping facilities that were the giant heart of this town.
All the vital facilities that held the lifeline of the Yunohara community were concentrated here.
Along the roadside‚ thick pipes like giant snakes undulated as if crawling across the ground.
To prevent heat from being stolen by burial under heavy snow‚ thick insulation was tightly wrapped in multiple layers.
Inside them‚ hot water pumped up from deep underground pulsed without pause.
The townspeople affectionately called it the “Hot-Spring Road.”
Haruka‚ while matching her pace‚ unconsciously let her gaze crawl over those pipes.
A habit unique to her‚ almost an occupational disease.
Haruka: “...Hm?”
Haruka’s boots stopped dead‚ still pressing into the snow.
Fuyuka: “What’s wrong?”
Haruka: “Just now‚ didn’t a strange sound mix in?”
Fuyuka also stopped and strained her ears toward the pure-white snowfield.
Fuyuka: “I don’t hear anything.
Isn’t it the sound of the wind?”
Haruka: “No.
Behind the sound of the wind‚ something is there.”
Fuyuka: “Something is there... what?”
Haruka: “It’s definitely making a sound.”
Fuyuka: “From where?”
Haruka: “Over there — the greenhouse branch point!”
What Haruka indicated with her gloved finger was the joint part of the pipe leading to the greenhouse.
A slight tear in the insulation wrapped in multiple layers.
From that gap‚ steam like a thin white thread was blowing out with a faint *shuu* scream.
They kicked the fresh snow at their feet and approached‚ peering closely.
Fuyuka: “...Aah.”
Fuyuka shrugged her shoulders at the anticipated trouble.
Haruka: “Is it broken?”
Fuyuka: “Probably.”
Haruka: “Should I go call a technician?”
Fuyuka: “It would be better to call one‚ but.”
Haruka knelt right there and crouched into the piled snow.
Haruka: “Wait a bit‚ Fuyuka.”
Fuyuka: “What?”
Haruka: “I want to properly look inside.”
She pulled off the gloves she was wearing with her teeth and touched the surface of the pipe with her bare‚ white-numbed hands.
Hot.
Yet it clearly did not reach the
“normal heat amount”
she remembered learning beside Saeki-san.
Haruka: “Here.”
Haruka indicated the center of the leaking steam with the pad of her finger.
Haruka: “At the base of the valve‚ the seal is shot.”
Fuyuka: “...You can tell just by touching?”
Haruka: “Yeah.”
Fuyuka: “Really?”
Haruka: “The vibration coming through is weird.
It’s shaking like an arrhythmia.”
Fuyuka: “You can distinguish that far with just sound and vibration?”
Haruka: “You can.
If you look every day.”
Haruka stood up straight and began rummaging through her coat pockets.
Right‚ left‚ inner pocket‚ chest.
It was just like Doraemon’s pocket.
Haruka: “...Found it‚ this this.”
What she pinched out with cold fingertips was a small‚ unshapely metal fragment.
The whole thing was reddish-black with rust‚ and the shape was distorted unevenly.
Objectively‚ it was unmistakably
“junk” — just garbage.
Fuyuka: “...What is that?”
Haruka: “I don’t know.”
Fuyuka: “You kept carrying something whose purpose you don’t even know?”
Haruka: “Yeah.”
Fuyuka: “For what?”
Haruka: “Because I might use it in a moment like this someday.”
Fuyuka furrowed her brows with a look of something she fundamentally could not understand.
Fuyuka: “...As I thought‚ I don’t think I’ll ever understand in my lifetime.”
Haruka: “Just watch for a bit.”
While deftly handling that rusted metal fragment with her fingertips‚ Haruka pulled out several more
“scraps”
from the depths of her pocket.
A worn washer.
A small torn spring.
And finally‚ she extracted a well-aged‚ scarred adjustable wrench.
She gripped the handle firmly.
In her hand settled the cold yet familiar solid mass of iron.
This alone she continued to use without letting go‚ no matter how much her luggage was reduced.
It was a treasure directly handed over by the old technician who had once single-handedly supported all of this town’s infrastructure and then retired.
She had dropped it many times on hard concrete floors‚ sometimes used it as a hammer to strike hard metal‚ and each time oiled and polished it.
Scarred‚ the unrefined handle had countless small dents.
Yet as a tool‚ its function still lived without a single millimeter of deviation.
Fuyuka: “Haruka.”
Haruka: “What?”
Fuyuka: “Can you really fix it with that?”
Haruka: “I’m just going to try.”
Fuyuka: “...What if you completely finish it off and break it?”
Haruka: “In that case‚ I’ll prostrate myself and apologize to the technician.”
Fuyuka: “Is it a problem that ends with an apology?”
Haruka: “Because you won’t know if it will break unless you take it apart.”
Fuyuka let out today’s deepest‚ bottomless sigh.
Fuyuka: “Got it.
I’m hands-off.
I’ll just watch.”
Haruka: “Help a little‚ that’s cold.”
Fuyuka: “My principle is ‘carry only what is necessary.’
Tools are outside my specialty.”
Haruka: “At least for emergencies like this‚ it would be nice if you carried something.”
Fuyuka: “For unforeseen situations like this‚ Haruka is the one hoarding garbage.
I’ll just use that.”
Haruka: “That’s why I said they’re parts!”
Haruka again planted her knees on the fresh snow.
She instantly assessed the complex structure of the valve‚ fitted the mouth of the adjustable wrench‚ and carefully loosened the nut.
She peered into the interior of the metal through the gap.
Haruka: “...Just as I thought.”
Fuyuka: “What?”
Haruka: “The packing is completely dead.”
Fuyuka: “Dead.”
Haruka: “Yeah‚ end of life.”
The moment she spat that word from her own mouth.
Haruka’s fingertips froze rigid as if pierced by something.
—Saeki-san.
Until yesterday‚ he had been living normally‚ looking after the hot water.
Today‚ he was not there.
This packing‚ too‚ had been usable until yesterday.
Today‚ it broke.
They seemed similar‚ yet there was a cruelly desperate boundary line between them.
Fuyuka: “Haruka? What’s wrong?”
Haruka: “...No‚ nothing.”
Haruka once lowered her eyes deeply‚ regulated her breath‚ and pulled an irregular rubber piece from the depths of her pocket.
Haruka: “With this‚ if I shave it a little‚ the size should match.”
Fuyuka: “...You were carrying even something like that?”
Haruka: “Yeah.”
Fuyuka: “Since when?”
Haruka: “Who knows‚ from so long ago I don’t remember.”
Fuyuka: “It’s already in the realm of horror.”
Haruka: “That’s a bad way of putting it.
I’d like you to call it foresight as an engineer.”
Haruka laughed lightly and again put her fingers on the handle of the adjustable wrench.
*Kyu.*
*Kyu.*
The cold-hardened metal stubbornly resisted‚ tensing its body.
Haruka: “...All right‚ it moved.”
She put her hips into it one more level and applied force.
*Kyuu.*
The seized nut came off.
She carefully removed the deteriorated old packing with her fingertips and fitted the makeshift substitute without gaps.
She finely adjusted the play of the fittings‚ and finally bit with the wrench and tightened it with all her strength.
Haruka: “...Fuyuka‚ try opening the valve slowly.”
Fuyuka carefully turned the metal handle.
From deep underground‚ a thick heavy bass *goo* crawled up.
The entire pipe trembled faintly like a living thing‚ and immediately after‚ a single white jet of steam blew out sharply from the gap of the valve with a *shuu*.
Haruka: “Close it!”
Fuyuka: “Got it!”
Fuyuka hurriedly turned the handle fully in the opposite direction.
Fuyuka: “...No good? Is it still leaking?”
Haruka: “No‚ different.”
Haruka pressed her own ear directly against the cold metal skin of the pipe without hesitation.
She gently closed her eyes and picked up only the internal sound‚ shutting out noise.
For a while‚ only the sound of snow falling softly dominated the entire world.
Eventually‚ Haruka slowly raised her face.
Haruka: “...One more time‚ open it.”
Fuyuka: “Is it okay?”
Haruka: “Probably.
This time it will go well.”
Fuyuka again opened the valve cautiously.
This time‚ it was quiet.
The sound of the eerie white steam leaking completely disappeared‚ and only the low‚ regular‚ certain pulsation of warm water flowing powerfully through the depths of the pipe resounded.
Haruka was listening intently to that sound like a heartbeat of life.
Fuyuka: “It’s fixed?”
Haruka: “Yeah.
Perfect.”
Fuyuka: “Amazing‚ Haruka.”
Haruka: “It’s normal‚ this much.”
Fuyuka: “I think I said before that you don’t call that normal.”
At that moment —
Middle-aged man: “Heeey!”
From the dense shadow of the greenhouse‚ a middle-aged man came running‚ kicking snow in a flustered manner.
Middle-aged man: “Who is it‚ who messed with this without permission!”
Haruka: “Ah... sorry‚ without permission.”
Middle-aged man: “No‚ don’t apologize‚ I’m not blaming you!”
The man‚ shoulders heaving roughly‚ stared hard at the root of the valve that had been splendidly repaired‚ then scrutinized Haruka’s face.
Middle-aged man: “You fixed this?”
Haruka: “Yes‚ that’s right.”
Middle-aged man: “A student‚ right?”
Haruka: “First year at Yunohara University.
Mechanical and Energy Engineering Department.”
Middle-aged man: “First year...?”
The man exhaled blankly as if he could not believe it.
Middle-aged man: “...If that stubborn Saeki-san saw this‚ he’d break into a big smile of pure joy.”
A little of the life drained from Haruka’s mouth.
Haruka: “...Is that so.”
Middle-aged man: “Yeah.
That guy was quite fond of you and boasted about you.”
Haruka: “...”
Middle-aged man: “‘That kid keeps picking up weird parts she doesn’t even know if she can use and puts them in her pockets‚’ he said happily‚ complaining.”
Haruka: “...So he really was saying that behind my back.”
Haruka smiled‚ dropping her gaze sadly.
The man also softened his eyes with a somewhat lonely look.
Middle-aged man: “But you really saved us.
If the greenhouse temperature dropped any further‚ by tomorrow morning the precious seedlings would have been wiped out.
You’re the town’s savior.”
Haruka: “I’m glad if I could be of help.”
Middle-aged man: “Truly‚ thank you.”
Haruka: “No...”
The man bowed deeply several times‚ then hurried back to the greenhouse management room.
Haruka quietly watched his back growing small in the blizzard.
Fuyuka softly stood shoulder to shoulder beside her.
Fuyuka: “...Saeki-san.”
Haruka: “Yeah.”
Fuyuka: “Somewhere‚ is he happy for us?”
Haruka: “Who knows.”
Fuyuka: “That’s cold.
You should say ‘I’m sure he’s happy.’”
Haruka: “Because the true feelings of the dead can’t be known by any living person.”
Fuyuka: “...I see.
Fuyuka is as unwavering as ever.”
Fuyuka neither denied nor affirmed further.
Haruka also swallowed her words together with her white breath.
She simply stared hard at the adjustable wrench remaining in her palm.
A scarred‚ unrefined lump of iron blackened with oil and soot.
With this she had fixed broken things many times.
Broken machines.
Broken piping.
Broken tools.
As long as there were appropriate parts.
As long as there was enough time.
As long as she moved her hands without giving up‚ any malfunction could definitely be fixed — she had believed that without a single millimeter of doubt.
And so.
Haruka still did not understand true fear as a real sensation.
That in this world of endless winter‚ no matter how much muddy technology one applied‚ no matter how much one gathered parts from all over the world‚ there existed absolute loss that could never be
“fixed.”
Haruka: “Hey‚ Fuyuka.”
Fuyuka: “What?”
Haruka: “After this‚ let’s go to the hot spring.”
Fuyuka: “...Sudden.”
Haruka: “Because today was really cold.”
Fuyuka: “This world is cold every day without exception.”
Haruka: “No.
Today I feel especially chilled.”
Fuyuka: “...Well‚ fine.
I’ll go with you.”
Haruka: “Yay.”
The two walked side by side again‚ stepping on the white snow.
Along the path leading to the hot-spring district.
From a tear in the ground-crawling pipe‚ pure-white steam rose softly.
That warm heat gently melted the snow crystals constantly falling from the gray sky in midair just before they touched.
Adults from the town hall and equipment team passed by hurriedly‚ each to their posts.
Someone: “Good work.”
Someone: “Hello.”
Someone: “It’s severely cold today too.”
Someone: “It seems it will get even worse at night.
We have to prepare.”
Everyone was exchanging ordinary words as usual.
Even if the world had ended.
Even if merciless snow continued to fall.
Even if a familiar person who until yesterday had certainly been there was today‚ just one‚ gone.
Those who were alive had to make today’s dinner.
Had to sleep for tomorrow’s work.
And — the hot springs that connected their lives continued to well abundantly at their feet today as well‚ unchanged.
Haruka‚ while walking‚ gently searched inside her coat pocket.
Rusted fittings.
Small springs.
Distorted washers.
Scrap rubber pieces.
All of them were still inside.
For the time when someday someone’s
“everyday”
began to break‚ to fix it for them.
There still was no reason to throw these away‚ no matter where she looked.
In the direction of her gaze.
Beyond the all-white snow‚ the magnificent hot-spring steam that was the very life of this town began to come into view.
As they approached the entrance of the hot-spring district‚ the texture of the air brushing their skin clearly changed.
The distinctive sulfur smell that stabbed the nose.
The damp earthy smell given off by wet granite.
Into the freezing cold air of the snow‚ particles of certain
“heat”
began to mix.
From the tears in the pipes undulating along the roadside‚ pure-white steam rose without pause.
In the town of Yunohara‚ that was nothing more than everyday scenery as common as breathing.
Morning‚ noon‚ and night.
From the depths of the ground‚ warm blood for keeping this community alive overflowed without pause‚ pulsing.
Haruka: “...Haa‚ I’m revived.”
Haruka exhaled a big white sigh.
Fuyuka: “You’re not dead yet.”
Haruka: “My heart was completely annihilated in the first-period classroom.”
Fuyuka: “From something like a heat-exchange lecture?”
Haruka: “First period is an irrationality that can legally kill people.”
Fuyuka: “Stop making enemies of the university bigwigs.”
Haruka: “Because I can’t win against the absolute threat called sleepiness.”
Fuyuka: “Yes yes‚ I get it.”
While exchanging trivial banter‚ the two passed under the faded navy noren and stepped into the old building of the public bath.
In the changing room‚ there were already several earlier customers.
Regular: “Oh‚ university students.
Welcome.”
Haruka & Fuyuka: “Hello‚ excuse us.”
Regular: “You’re quite early today.”
Haruka: “Well‚ today’s lectures are all finished.”
Regular: “Are you properly listening to the professor’s talks?”
Haruka: “Perfectly‚ completely!”
When Haruka answered with her chest puffed out at this chance‚ Fuyuka next to her burst out laughing softly.
Fuyuka: “Big lie.”
Haruka: “Hey‚ Fuyuka!”
Fuyuka: “In the morning‚ at least half the time you were voluntarily letting go of your consciousness.”
Haruka: “Fuyuka-chan!? You don’t need to publicly expose every inconvenient fact!”
Warm laughter erupted from here and there in the changing room.
Regular elderly man: “My‚ you’re young.”
The regular elderly man said‚ narrowing his eyes affectionately.
Haruka hunched her neck a little bashfully.
Haruka: “When I’m told I’m young‚ I suddenly feel treated like an old person.”
Regular: “Even though you’re still a fresh first-year.”
Haruka: “But university students are already proper adults in society’s eyes‚ right?”
Regular: “From high-schoolers’ perspective‚ yeah.”
Haruka: “Ugh‚ don’t suddenly hit me with reality...”
Another burst of laughter.
Receiving that warm afterglow on their backs‚ the two stripped off their clothes and finally stepped into the bathhouse filled with steam.
Thick white steam painted over the entire field of vision in pure white in an instant.
Beyond the fogged glass windows‚ the merciless queen of winter still sat and continued to make snow fall.
Outside the building was an extreme-cold death zone that could easily take lives if one let one’s guard down.
And yet — only inside this overflowing bathtub was eternal spring promised.
Haruka: “Haaaaaaaa...”
Haruka sank deeply into the bathtub up to around her chin.
Haruka: “...Gods‚ Buddhas‚ Hot-Spring Gods‚ I’m truly glad to be alive...”
Fuyuka: “Like I said‚ no one has died.”
Haruka: “This is the second time today.”
Fuyuka: “How many times are you going to reuse that line.”
Haruka: “Every time I pass under the hot-spring noren and feel the water on my skin‚ I’ll say it.”
Fuyuka: “Then from now on I’ll be forced to hear it every day.”
Haruka: “It’s fine‚ it doesn’t decrease.”
Fuyuka: “My mental leeway decreases.”
While trading light jokes‚ Haruka sank her shoulders deeply into the water and closed her eyes in comfort.
Haruka: “...Warm.
Really‚ so warm.”
Fuyuka: “Yeah‚ it is.”
Fuyuka also sat down a little distance away‚ side by side.
For a while‚ words disappeared between the two.
Only the irregular sound of the full water quietly waving and overflowing from the edge resounded.
In the distant washing area‚ someone placed a wooden bucket on the floor.
*Kakon* — that dry‚ hoarse sound echoed oddly large and somewhat lonely within the dense steam.
Haruka: “Hey‚ Fuyuka.”
Haruka said quietly without opening her eyelids.
Fuyuka: “What?”
Haruka: “About Saeki-san.”
Fuyuka: “Yeah.”
Haruka: “Did he also come to soak in this water yesterday?”
Fuyuka: “Probably.
That guy’s fixed position was the first bath here.”
Haruka: “I see.”
Haruka opened her eyes and stared at the opaque water surface swaying.
Beyond the white steam it was hazy forever‚ and nothing could be seen.
Haruka: “Until yesterday‚ it was really normal.”
Fuyuka: “Yeah.”
Haruka: “Somehow... it feels really strange.”
Fuyuka: “That ‘strange’... is because Saeki-san died?”
Haruka: “...Yeah‚ is that it.”
Fuyuka shifted her posture a little in the water as if sitting up again.
Fuyuka: “Haruka.”
Haruka: “What?”
Fuyuka: “People‚ you know‚ no matter how normally they lived until yesterday‚ can expire all too easily today.”
Haruka: “...I know that without being told.”
Fuyuka: “Then‚ it’s just that.”
Haruka: “...Just that‚ is it just that?”
Fuyuka: “Just that.”
Haruka stole a look at Fuyuka’s beautiful profile.
Her expression‚ wet with dense steam‚ was as usual matter-of-fact‚ and could even look like cold ice.
Haruka: “...Somehow‚ isn’t that a bit cold?”
Fuyuka: “Is it?”
Haruka: “Because a bit more‚ like... sad‚ or lonely‚ or something.”
Fuyuka: “I’m sad too.”
Haruka: “...Eh?”
At the unexpected reply‚ Haruka’s eyes widened.
Fuyuka: “Saeki-san was brusque‚ but a really good person.”
Haruka: “...”
Fuyuka: “But you know‚ no matter how many tears we shed and how sad we are‚ the dead person won’t come back to life‚ and the people who will die from now on won’t disappear.”
Fuyuka looked up at the white-smoking ceiling and stretched both legs leisurely in the water.
Fuyuka: “So for me‚ instead of crying‚ I think it’s enough to just properly remember.”
Haruka: “Remember... what?”
Fuyuka: “Yeah.”
Haruka: “What?”
Fuyuka: “Things like how that guy’s way of gripping tools was surprisingly rough.”
Haruka: “Ahaha‚ that’s the part.”
Fuyuka: “How he happily repeated the same boring old stories.”
Haruka: “Ah‚ he did.
I heard the same one three times.”
Fuyuka: “And then.”
Fuyuka raised the corners of her mouth just a little‚ softer than usual.
Fuyuka: “How he said about Haruka ‘That kid is a weirdo who picks up weird things the moment you take your eyes off her’ and really laughed happily.”
Haruka choked in her throat‚ and eventually‚ unable to hold back‚ let out a small‚ warm laugh.
Haruka: “...Yeah.
I absolutely won’t forget that.
I properly remember.”
Fuyuka: “Then that’s enough.”
Haruka: “Yeah‚ it is.”
Haruka gently swayed her legs that looked white and translucent in the water‚ making a small‚ sparkling *chapun* wave.
Haruka: “Then I’ll also remember for life.
How Saeki-san treated my important collection as junk and laughed hard.”
Fuyuka: “You’re not just going to remember that‚ you’re going to hold a grudge for life.”
Haruka: “Fufu‚ correct.”
Haruka looked up with her gaze at the cold water droplets sparkling as they fell from the condensed ceiling.
Haruka: “But you know.”
Fuyuka: “What?”
Haruka: “Today‚ that I fixed that greenhouse piping.”
Fuyuka: “Yeah.”
Haruka: “If Saeki-san were alive‚ what would he have said.”
Fuyuka: “It’s decided.
‘Students should quietly sit at their desks and study.’”
Haruka: “Ahaha‚ he’d definitely say that!”
Fuyuka: “And after that‚ he’d probably praise you secretly in a voice you couldn’t hear.”
Haruka: “Yeah‚ he’d say it.”
Fuyuka: “‘Well... for an amateur‚ it’s not bad’ or something.”
Haruka: “He’d say it he’d say it! I can easily imagine it.”
The two’s lively laughter gently melted into the thick white steam.
Just a little.
The heavy mud-like lump that had settled undigested in the depths of Haruka’s chest lightened as if dissolved by the warm water.
It was not that she had forgotten death.
Nor that the painful loneliness toward the lost life had cleanly vanished.
Simply‚ within this new day called today‚ a
“place”
to quietly put away the memory of the person who had departed was arranged just a little.
Haruka: “...Hey‚ Fuyuka.”
Fuyuka: “Hm?”
Haruka: “Fuyuka‚ you’re the type who unhesitatingly throws away anything you judge unnecessary for yourself‚ right.”
Fuyuka: “Unnecessary things‚ yeah.
Just holding them becomes a cost in life.”
Haruka: “Then... about Saeki-san too‚ if someday you think he’s unnecessary for yourself‚ will you throw him out of your head?”
Fuyuka stopped her words for just an instant.
And then‚ after moving her sharp gaze as if sliding across the rippling water surface‚ she answered quietly.
Fuyuka: “...I won’t throw him away.”
Haruka: “Eh?”
Fuyuka: “Memories aren’t luggage you carry in both hands.”
Haruka: “...”
Fuyuka: “No matter how much you walk around holding them‚ they don’t get even one gram heavier.”
Haruka’s eyes widened as if she had been shown a foul technique.
Haruka: “...Somehow‚ that’s unfair.”
Fuyuka: “What is?”
Haruka: “Suddenly saying cool lines like the protagonist of a novel.”
Fuyuka: “I just stated an ordinary fact.”
Haruka: “It’s not ordinary‚ it’s unfair.”
Fuyuka: “Isn’t it just that Haruka’s emotions are weird?”
Haruka: “There it is again! You immediately treat people as non-standard!”
The carefree laughter of the two pleasantly echoed against the high ceiling of the bathhouse.
A town auntie who had been soaking up to her neck in a tub a little away turned and narrowed her eyes.
Town auntie: “Young ones are really energetic.
Just watching warms me up too.”
Haruka: “Yes!”
Haruka rose with a splash from the water surface and answered energetically.
Haruka: “Energy and the habit of picking things up are my only strong points!”
Town auntie: “And you can also repair machines‚ right.”
The auntie smiled mischievously.
Town auntie: “Just now I heard a rumor that you brilliantly fixed the greenhouse piping.”
Haruka: “Eeh‚ it’s already spread that far!?”
Town auntie: “Yunohara is small.
Rumors grow wings and fly.”
Haruka: “The information transmission speed is faster than light...”
Town auntie: “People are starting to look at that kid with expectation that she’ll splendidly succeed Saeki-san.”
Haruka: “No no no no!”
Haruka hurriedly waved both hands‚ splashing water.
Haruka: “I’m still just a humble university first-year!?”
Town auntie: “Younger is more reliable and better.”
Haruka: “The mass of the pressure weighing on me is too heavy!”
Fuyuka was laughing with her shoulders shaking next to her.
Fuyuka: “It suits you‚ Yunohara’s next-generation exclusive young technician.”
Haruka: “You’re treating it as someone else’s problem! You’re completely enjoying this!”
Fuyuka: “My specialty is different.
I’m in charge of external survey and exploration.”
Haruka: “That side is the life-risking hard work of going out into the snowfield outside the walls.”
Fuyuka: “Well‚ it’s hard enough to die.”
Haruka: “Then the weight we’re carrying is the same.”
Fuyuka: “Maybe so.”
The two again looked at each other and broke into smiles.
Outside the fogged glass windows‚ snow like white demons continued to fall softly.
Somewhere in the world — a mere thirty kilometers away — one settlement zone was silently vanishing.
People were mercilessly being eaten‚ or freezing while nearly extinguishing the flame of life at the end of a desperate escape.
Even so — here‚ the girls were entrusting their bodies to the warm water and laughing while exchanging trivial jokes.
Today as well‚ in Yunohara there were hot springs that never ran dry.
Therefore‚ no one doubted by even a millimeter the absolute continuation of everyday life‚ thinking
“we are still fine.”
◇
Passing under the noren and going outside the hot spring.
To a body soaked to the core with heat‚ even the piercing cold air outside felt rather like a pleasant caress of stimulation.
Haruka: “...Haaaa”
Haruka looked up at the sky and stretched her arms fully in a big stretch.
Haruka: “I’m ridiculously sleepy.”
Fuyuka: “Again? Did you get hot-spring fatigue.”
Haruka: “Because I obtained the supreme warmth by entering the hot spring.”
Fuyuka: “You spend more than half the day fighting sleepiness‚ Haruka.”
Haruka: “All right‚ decided.
Until dinner time I’m going to sleep like mud.”
Fuyuka: “A picture-perfect useless human.”
Haruka: “I’m an active university first-year.”
Fuyuka: “I just heard the exact same reply earlier.”
The two began walking side by side.
Passing through the old wooden houses of the atmospheric hot-spring district‚ heading toward the square in the center of town.
From the gray sky‚ snow was still endlessly dancing down.
In the center of the square‚ a giant exhaust tower like a relic of the old era towered‚ piercing the leaden sky.
The giant mechanical heart for distributing the geothermal heat overflowing from deep underground in Yunohara like blood throughout the entire town.
At the base of that unrefined iron‚ an old indicator was installed.
Mechanical digital numbers making a *pata-pata* sound were slowly‚ yet with cold will‚ displaying a certain numerical value.
Haruka casually looked up at it while walking.
Fuyuka did not even turn her gaze.
It was the usual‚ familiar scene.
On the rusted display board‚ inorganic faded letters were engraved thus.
—Geothermal output.
【 58.4 % 】
Haruka: “...Ah.”
Haruka suddenly stopped on the fresh snow.
Fuyuka: “What’s wrong?”
Fuyuka‚ who had been walking a few steps ahead‚ turned around curiously.
Haruka: “Hey‚ Fuyuka.”
Fuyuka: “Hm?”
Haruka: “Look at this.”
Haruka pointed at the old display board at the base of the giant tower half-buried in snow.
Haruka: “This... do you remember what percent it was last month in the evening?”
Fuyuka: “Who knows‚ I’m not interested.
What percent was it?”
Haruka: “I think... 58.5.”
Fuyuka: “Hmm.
Then it only dropped 0.1 percent in a month.”
Haruka: “Yeah‚ only 0.1...”
Haruka continued to stare hard at the mechanical numbers trembling faintly with a *pata-pata*.
58.4.
Just an inorganic number.
Yet that number was directly linked to the very lifespan of the town called Yunohara.
Heating‚ hot springs‚ greenhouses‚ clinic‚ university.
All of the modest lives of the people living in this snow-locked world depended on the underground heat volume indicated by this number and barely held together.
Haruka: “...Hey‚ Fuyuka.”
Fuyuka: “What?”
Haruka: “Yunohara...”
Haruka spun her words a little hesitantly‚ as if hiding the bottom-chilling anxiety welling up in her chest.
Haruka: “How long can we stay here.”
Fuyuka never turned her gaze toward that display board to the end.
She simply looked straight ahead at the white-smoking front and answered in a flat voice.
Fuyuka: “Who knows.”
And after the interval of just a slight breath‚ she spoke the absolute truth of this world‚ all too cold.
Fuyuka: “Until this underground heat can no longer support the town.
That’s all.”
Haruka: “...I see.
That’s right.”
Haruka once more traced that numerical value with her gaze.
58.4%.
With the knowledge of a university first-year Haruka‚ she still could not accurately reverse-calculate how much grace that number meant remained for them.
Five more years?
Ten years?
Or — even more cruelly short.
The adults managing this town might have long since derived the accurate limit prediction (time limit).
But no one could live every day trembling at the countdown to the world’s end.
Tomorrow morning would definitely come with an ordinary face.
The hot springs would well‚ and university classes would start from first period.
Therefore‚ that was fine‚ and everyone averted their eyes while living the present.
Haruka: “Fuyuka‚ don’t leave me behind.”
Fuyuka: “It’s because Haruka’s walking speed is slow like just after waking up.”
Haruka: “I’m coming now!”
Haruka kicked the fresh snow hard and ran out.
Stepping on the pure-white carpet with her boots‚ scattering white breath grandly‚ she slid right next to Fuyuka.
Haruka: “Cold! When I suddenly run the air stabs my lungs!”
Fuyuka: “That’s why I said not to run‚ how many times do I have to say it just today.”
Haruka: “Because Fuyuka’s stride is weirdly wide.”
Fuyuka: “Normal.”
Haruka: “That word ‘normal’ is banned for use just for today!”
The two’s cheerful voices were quietly sucked into the white-sinking town and disappeared.
The exhaust tower piercing the sky held no emotion toward the trivial activities of the humans hurriedly passing below‚ and with absolute silence continued sending hot water to the town.
【 58.4 % 】
No one yet truly feared that number carving the cruel second hand of history.
Because the true end leading to ruin was‚ at least‚ not this day.
That night.
The snow enveloping Yunohara had increased its intensity just a little compared to daytime.
A faint sound of *shin-shin* striking the roof resounded‚ and beyond the windows the night curtain of mixed pitch-black darkness and pure-white snow sank.
Even so‚ the lights of this town never went out.
The old signboards of the hot-spring district‚ the windows of dense houses‚ the night light of the clinic‚ and the university student dormitory.
The heat wave carried pulsing from deep underground gently enveloped the entire town tonight as well like a warm cradle.
Haruka was slumped pitifully over the desk in her room.
Haruka: “...It won’t end.
It absolutely won’t end...”
In front of her spread the assignment printout mercilessly slammed down in the afternoon lecture.
A dizzyingly complex calculation problem about heat exchange efficiency.
Haruka: “Why‚ even though I should have perfectly refreshed by entering the hot spring‚ am I more exhausted than before entering.”
She grumbled resentfully to no one in particular.
On the bed the discarded coat.
In the corner of the desk‚ her well-used favorite tools and the small rusted fitting she had just picked up today were rolling.
Haruka put down her pen and picked up that reddish-black fitting.
She toyed with it spinning with her fingertips.
Haruka: “...What on earth can this be used for.”
Right now she did not know its purpose.
That was exactly why it was not a reason to throw it away.
Because someday it might fill some fatal blank.
Believing that‚ she pulled open the desk drawer‚ and there a large amount of
“scraps”
were quietly sleeping.
Rusted screws‚ worn washers‚ torn springs‚ old fuses‚ small gears with missing teeth‚ metal fragments of unknown purpose.
To ordinary people it would look like an illegal dumping trash can‚ but to Haruka it was a shining treasure box hiding infinite possibilities.
At that moment —
—*Pii.*
A short electronic sound broke the silence‚ and Haruka raised her face as if startled.
The radio placed in the corner of the desk.
The life communication network connecting neighboring settlement zones and the town’s core.
Normally‚ only harmless life sounds like scheduled contacts from the equipment team‚ avalanche warnings‚ or boring next-day weather forecasts should flow from the machine.
However‚ the voice that leaked from the speaker tonight was clearly abnormal.
Mizumori Town: “—This is the Eleventh Settlement Zone‚ Mizumori Town.”
Haruka’s fingertips stopped dead.
Mizumori Town: “Yunohara‚ are you receiving.
Please respond.”
Beyond the voice mixed with intense noise.
There was a faint yet clear tension pregnant with a survival crisis‚ tightly stretched.
Yunohara operator: “This is Yunohara.
Sensitivity good‚ receiving.”
The operator stationed at the central radio station of the town responded in a solemn voice.
Mizumori Town: “—Just now.
We accepted the evacuees from the Thirteenth Settlement Zone‚ Miyuki Town‚ at this settlement zone.”
Haruka repeatedly blinked small in the dark room.
Haruka: “...Miyuki Town?”
It was by no means an unfamiliar name.
Among the confirmed thirteen settlement zones‚ the extreme-cold town located at the northernmost frontier.
From here Yunohara‚ it was a place separated by an endlessly distant silver wilderness.
Mizumori Town: “—The number of survivors is twenty.
I repeat‚ the confirmed survivors are twenty.”
Haruka completely stopped moving in front of the desk.
Beyond the radio speaker‚ a heavy silence like an abyss dropped with a *dosa*.
Mizumori Town: “The remaining residents of Miyuki Town are—”
The communicator’s suppressed voice trembled for an instant as if enduring pain.
Mizumori Town: “—Judged to be approximately twenty.”
It took several seconds of blank for her brain to coldly finish processing the meaning.
Survivors twenty.
Remaining — that is‚ the lives eternally lost to the silver darkness‚ twenty.
Total‚ forty.
Haruka: “...Only half.”
A trembling voice spilled from Haruka’s dry lips.
During the day she had been frightened by the absence of the
“one”
called Saeki-san; now the ferocious mass of the number
“twenty”
assaulted her.
Mizumori Town: “—The Thirteenth Settlement Zone‚ Miyuki Town‚ is hereby completely abandoned.”
That word was filled with a bureaucratic coldness that left not a single drop of room for sentiment.
Sharing the necessary information in the necessary order‚ simply as cold strict facts with the world.
That alone was the sole duty imposed on those who had barely survived.
Mizumori Town: “Among the evacuees‚ there are numerous injured.
Three seriously injured‚ many with severe hypothermia and frostbite.
This town immediately deployed a medical team and began resuscitation and treatment of the survivors—”
Haruka remained seated in front of the radio‚ unable to move as if frozen.
The profile of Saeki-san‚ who until yesterday had been laughing normally and today was easily erased from the world‚ flashed back.
And this time‚ an entire
“town”
itself had been cleanly carved away from the map without any prior notice.
Even so — beyond the radio‚ people were desperately moving to hold onto lives.
Doctors shouting‚ blankets being carried‚ water being boiled‚ wounds being washed‚ the muddy battle to somehow
“keep alive”
the surviving humans was unfolding.
Haruka exhaled the cold air accumulated in her chest small.
Haruka: “...But twenty people were saved.”
No one answered.
Only the *zaza‚ zaza* regular noise of the radio continued ringing with maddening regularity.
Mizumori Town: “Furthermore—”
Suddenly‚ the tone of the Mizumori Town communicator changed.
The previous matter-of-fact tone disappeared‚ and it took on a sharpened‚ bare-blade-like sharp resonance several octaves lower.
Mizumori Town: “—Regarding those white ‘individuals’ that attacked Miyuki Town.
Currently‚ this town’s perimeter surveillance team is confirming their worst movements.”
Haruka raised her face with a start.
Individuals — she understood all too well the despair that inorganic word meant.
Blizzard Rex.
White Beasts.
The absolute predators of this world of endless winter that roam the snowfields.
However‚ for Haruka and the others living comfortably in safe Yunohara‚ until now it had been nothing more than a
“fictional existence on the other side of the radio speaker.”
An event in a place all too distant from their ordinary everyday.
Mizumori Town: “—From Mizumori Town‚ emergency transmission to each settlement zone.
From now on‚ when conducting external exploration‚ solo action is strictly prohibited.
Also‚ ground heat source use should be kept to the absolute minimum necessary‚ and regarding the movement routes of the evacuees—”
Suddenly‚ intense buzz noise ran.
Together with a *zaaaa* grating dissonance‚ the communication temporarily cut off.
Haruka: “...?”
Several seconds after Haruka peered uneasily at the radio.
With a *pachi-pachi* sound the communication recovered.
But this time from the speaker leaked a raw voice mixed with rough breathing different from earlier.
Perimeter surveillance team: “—This is the perimeter surveillance team! Confirm‚ confirmed! Yunohara perimeter‚ northeast side... footprints discovered on the snow surface!”
Haruka’s fingertips instantly became so cold she lost sensation.
Perimeter surveillance team: “Number is multiple.
From size and stride‚ we determine it is a pack of Blizzard Rexes!”
Beyond the radio‚ there was a sense of someone sharply swallowing their breath.
Perimeter surveillance team: “...There is a possibility they are tracking us.”
Tracking.
What exactly.
Whom.
Perimeter surveillance team: “—The vector of the footprints completely matches the movement route of the evacuees who fled from Miyuki Town...”
A fierce chill as if cold ice had been slid directly down her spine ran through Haruka.
The room was warm.
The geothermal heating receiving the underground blessing was functioning perfectly.
And yet‚ a trembling so severe her teeth would not fit together would not stop no matter what.
◇Same time.
Eleventh Settlement Zone‚ Mizumori Town.
At the perimeter surveillance post covering the midnight town‚ a mad raging blizzard was blowing as if blocking everything.
Lookout: “...Shit‚ they’re here.”
The lookout wrapped in thick cold-weather gear‚ stuck to the night-vision telescope‚ squeezed out a voice as if groaning.
In the depths of the white darkness covering the field of vision.
On the other side of the raging snowfield‚ something moved slickly.
One‚ two‚ three.
No‚ further behind in the darkness more shadows were writhing.
Pure-white giant bodies completely assimilated with the blizzard.
Long limbs that seemed to glide over the snow.
Frozen white breath continuously exhaled into the void.
Silently‚ the pack of reapers was certainly advancing their steps toward here.
Someone: “—Number?”
Lookout: “Only six visible within the range of sight.
Visibility is poor‚ but there is a possibility more are lurking further back.”
Defense team man: “Six‚ huh...”
The man of the defense team in command clicked his tongue small as if crushing bitter hardship.
But the people of Mizumori Town did not fall into panic.
Through blood-soaked history they had learned all too well.
What kind of ecology those white demons had‚ and what they reacted to in order to attack.
That was why they had arranged interception and evasion formations assuming the worst‚ without a single deviation from the first move.
Defense team man: “Cut off all surviving heat sources in the southern sector.
Completely erase the presence.”
Someone: “Understood.”
Defense team man: “The northern decoy?”
Someone: “The pseudo heat-exhaust network is maintaining maximum output.
It’s drawing the beasts’ eyes.”
Defense team man: “Guidance of the evacuees to the underground shelter?”
Someone: “Just now‚ the last individual slid in‚ and the hatch sealing is complete.”
Defense team man: “Good.”
People drove silently in the dead-quiet darkness.
Extinguishing lights‚ hiding the scent of
“heat”
that proved human life‚ completely locking the entrances of the strong fortifications.
No one shouted.
No one ran wastefully.
The more humans knew the true form of terror‚ the less they committed the folly of needlessly making noise and shortening their own lives.
The lookout again pressed his face to the lens and peered into the night-vision telescope.
Lookout: “...The real trail of the evacuees who entered this town has been completely erased.
The fake footprints have also been cleanly set toward the east side of the town.”
Defense team man: “Please take the bait properly...”
In the bottom of the white darkness.
One Blizzard Rex at the head of the pack suddenly stopped its smooth progress.
Was it fixing its gaze on Mizumori Town sunk in darkness — no‚ different.
The beast’s cold sense of smell and gaze were directed toward the east side of the town... the
“fake footprints”
that had been fabricated so that the evacuees deliberately detoured around the town and continued fleeing south.
Lookout: “...They’re not coming this way.”
Defense team man: “Just keep going east...!”
A prayer-like blank of tens of seconds where the heart seemed about to explode.
The Blizzard Rex stood in the snowfield as if a frozen statue — but eventually‚ slowly turned its giant head toward the eastern darkness.
Lookout: “...Success‚ they were deceived!”
They had diverted from the path toward here.
As if accurately tracing the fabricated deception route‚ the entire silver pack began to advance gliding toward the eastern snowfield.
The lookout exhaled a breath of relief for the pure-white shadows passing in front of him for the time being — but at the same time‚ an irresistible shudder welling up from the bottom of his soul made the body hair of his entire body stand on end.
They did not possess higher intelligence than humans.
But that was exactly why they were terrifying.
Lookout: “...Those guys.”
While seeing off the eerie backs of the pack disappearing beyond the poor-visibility snowfield‚ the lookout murmured as if squeezing his throat.
Lookout: “They didn’t come chasing across thirty kilometers of harsh wilderness just to eat the residual scent of the humans who fled.”
Someone: “Then... for what exactly are they moving?”
Lookout: “...They’re searching for the ‘next hunting ground’ by instinct.
For those white beasts‚ the settlement zones (human towns) themselves are giant feed boxes.”
Only that all-too-despairing inference settled heavy like ice in the extreme-cold surveillance post.
◇
Yunohara.
Haruka’s room.
The radio on the desk was already maintaining an eerie complete silence.
Haruka stared outside the night glass window.
Snow.
Just endlessly cold and white snow.
The familiar winter night of Yunohara‚ unchanged from usual.
The room was warm with geothermal heat‚ the town still had abundant hot springs welling‚ and there was a university.
Tomorrow without fail‚ lectures would start from the irrational first period.
Haruka: “...A story from a distant country.”
Haruka murmured quietly to the night darkness.
Miyuki Town.
Mizumori Town.
And the endless silver abyss spreading further beyond.
From herself living in safe Yunohara‚ it was an event of a world all too distant.
Therefore‚ right now it still had nothing to do with her.
It could not possibly have anything to do with her.
Forcibly lowering the shutter of her thoughts that way‚ Haruka carefully put away the small rusted fitting left on the desk into the deepest part of the drawer.
With a small *katan* sound she closed the drawer.
And she slid into the fluffy bed futon.
Haruka: “...Good night.”
In the empty room‚ as if telling herself‚ she quietly closed her eyes.
The low driving sound the geothermal heating carved regularly.
From beyond the wall‚ the faint‚ beloved pulsation of the hot water flowing through the pipes.
Yunohara was alive and breathing today as well.
That night‚ in this warm town‚ no one lost their life.
At least‚ not yet.
No one.
—However.
Far on the other side of the raging snowfield‚ the white beasts were quietly and certainly continuing to track the
“deception footprints”
leading east.
In the world of endless winter.
The still-unseen footsteps of the end were steadily‚ yet at a fatal speed‚ approaching.
Episode 01: “The world had ended.
Yet even so‚ university still started from first period today.”
Complete
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