Noise rises from downstairs.
I move.
By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, Rose is at the kitchen table, sleeves rolled up, hair tied loosely. A young woman stands beside her.
"This is Hiro," Rose says. "The one I told you about, Aunt Anne."
Aunt Anne looks me over like she can't decide whether to trust what she sees.
"Sit," she orders. "You're not traveling on an empty stomach."
Rose's bags are lined up neatly by the wall.
"Close your eyes," Aunt Anne says.
Rose obeys instantly. I'm slower; being vulnerable always feels like stepping into a trap.
"I wish… I could start this journey," Rose whispers, "with the person I've longed for. The one I finally found."
I feel her gaze. I ignore it.
"Your turn, boy," Anne says.
"I'm grateful for warm food," I answer. "It's rare for me."
"Mm. Then let's begin," she says.
We eat. The warmth of this house feels wrong — the kind of place that could soften me enough to die. Rose keeps glancing at me, then forcing her eyes down again. She's nervous, yes — but not because of me.
A drop lands on my hand before I feel it on my face.
"Why now?" Anne asks.
"I remembered my mother."
"I understand, boy. Don't hold back your heart here. Think of us as your second home."
I nod and finish the meal. Aunt Anne calls the cat. It struts in like it owns the place. Rose kneels to pet it.
Then the bell outside rattles the window.
"The carriage is here," Anne says.
"Hiro?" Rose calls, stepping toward me. "Am I accepted?"
I stand.
"I don't know where I'm going. But what you said last night wasn't wrong. I accept you — as repayment for your warning."
I head upstairs. The old photo is still where I left it — edges torn, ink fading, the message carved into me: Stand strong.
"I'll find you, Mom," I whisper.
When I come down, Anne pulls me into a hard hug — unexpected, heavy with meaning.
"Thank you for that," she says. "She finally wants something again."
I don't answer, though her words trouble me. Wanting anything in a world like this is dangerous.
"Hiro!" Rose calls from outside. "Hurry!"
I rush out and climb into the carriage. I sit left, deeper in from the door. Rose waves at her aunt from the window.
"Goodbye, Aunt!" she calls.
"Be careful. Tell your uncle," Anne replies.
Rose nods and shuts the window.
The road shudders under the wheels. She sits close enough that her shoulder brushes mine every turn — not an accident. Not safe. Her presence feels like fire too close to an open wound.
Midway through the ride, pain spikes so sharply it shakes my whole body.
"Hiro?" she asks, studying me too closely. "You're trembling."
"I'm fine."
A ship's horn cuts the air from far away.
— HWOOOM.
"Where are we going?" I ask quietly, to be sure.
"You didn't know where you were headed before. Now I've chosen somewhere safe — my uncle's place. I always remembered his message: come to him after meeting the one who touched the crystal. You."
I listen. I understand. I turn to the window, watching the dark sea edge under the still-dark dawn sky.
— HWOOOM. — HWOOOM.
The driver curses. "Hold on, sir, miss."
Rose straightens. Determination tightens her jaw. "We need to catch that ship, sir."
We burst into the port — a maze of shouts, crates, fish stench, metal, chaos. Workers yell, sailors throw ropes, guards bark orders. The ship is almost ready to cast off.
"We won't make it," I say.
"We will," Rose answers — as if the world has no right to deny her.
The driver pushes the horses hard. Wheels slam stone — —TAK–TAK–TAK— —SSSKREET— The jolt knocks the breath out of me. Pain flares again — hotter, deeper.
The carriage skids to a stop.
"Go!" the driver shouts.
We grab our bags. Rose pays the fare.
The ship's horn cries one last time.
— HWOOOM.
Rose runs. She reaches for my hand; I shake my head, refusing.
The boarding plank.
Crew shout. Rose leaps. I follow. My hand slips — catches — clamps onto the wood.
We climb.
We make it aboard.
Barely.
The ship pulls away. Rose stands beside me, breathless, triumphant — unaware how close I am to collapsing.
The port shrinks behind us.