One day, inside a small hut, there was a beautiful woman with long lavender hair. Someone quite familiar—Amamiya—was lying there. For the first time since two days ago, when she had collapsed and fallen ill, she finally stirred awake.
Amamiya rested on a soft bed that wasn't her own. She gazed quietly into the distance, her mind empty yet oddly calm.
Thud!
The sound of something falling came from the corner of the room. Amamiya lifted her head and saw a handsome young man—Tamaki—startled to find her awake after two uncertain days.
"Amamiya!" he exclaimed with relief.
She still needed a moment to process what was happening. Before fainting, she had deliberately peeked into Tamaki's status, and the overload of information had been too much for her mind.
"Thank goodness you're awake…" Tamaki said warmly, setting aside the groceries he had dropped and hurrying over. "Does it still hurt anywhere?" he asked, gently holding her hand.
Amamiya gave a faint nod and whispered, "I'm feeling better now."
Tamaki smiled. "Good. Rest a little longer," he said before turning away.
"Where are you going?" Amamiya asked, unease flickering across her face.
Tamaki glanced back at her, meeting those worried eyes. "Me? I'm just picking up the things I dropped." He crouched down to gather the scattered food from the floor.
"Oh…" Amamiya sighed, tension loosening just a little.
Minutes stretched into hours as they stayed inside the hut together—Tamaki happily tending to Amamiya, and Amamiya quietly soaking in the care. Their conversation flowed easily, until suddenly—
Bang!
The door burst open, shattering the warm atmosphere.
Outside stood a man clad entirely in armor, his body and even his face hidden beneath a closed helmet.
Tamaki—and especially Amamiya—froze in shock at the sight of this stranger forcing his way in.
"What!?" Amamiya muttered in disbelief.
"Oh, so she's finally awake," the armored man said.
"Oh!" Tamaki gasped.
"He's an adventurer from this village," Tamaki whispered to Amamiya. "But I can't understand the language he speaks."
"Thank you for… helping us?" Amamiya said cautiously, suspicion lingering in her voice.
"Oh, you can speak our language?" the armored man asked, stepping inside and pushing the broken door closed behind him.
"Your friend doesn't seem to know it," he continued, sitting down opposite Tamaki on a wooden chair.
Amamiya's expression grew more serious. She tried to push herself up from the bed—
"Don't strain yourself!" Tamaki warned.
"I'll be fine," Amamiya murmured, then turned her attention to the knight.
Amamiya fell quiet for several seconds, her gaze unfocused. Then, in a soft and hazy voice, she murmured, "What… happened to me?" Her eyes wandered between Tamaki and the armored man, searching, uncertain.
It seemed she didn't remember a thing.
"Y-you suddenly collapsed! You looked like you were in pain!" Tamaki blurted out, panic and lingering worry written all over his face.
"Your friend came to our village seeking help," the armored man added. "Even though we couldn't understand each other's language at first."
Amamiya lowered her gaze, as if sifting through fragments of memories that refused to come together. Her expression softened into a small, almost resigned sigh.
"I… see…" she whispered.
Then she lifted her head again, this time offering the armored man a gentle, heartfelt smile. "Thank you… for taking care of us," she said, her voice warm despite the heavy weight tugging at her eyelids—eyes that threatened to close, yet she stubbornly kept open.
"Think nothing of it. We, too, were helped by your friend here," the man replied.
He rose from the wooden chair, his armor clinking with every movement—iron against iron, like a quiet metallic melody.
"Well then, I'll take my leave. I pray for your swift recovery." With that, he stepped out of the old hut, leaving Amamiya and Tamaki alone in the hush that followed.
"…He's a kind man," Amamiya murmured, still staring at the now-closed door. "Even if his appearance is… a bit unusual."
"Hey, Amamiya…" Tamaki's voice called from her right side.
She turned her head toward him, tilting it slightly—her expression a mix of confusion and innocent curiosity.
Tamaki's face looked as if it had been crushed by days of silent pressure. His lips trembled every now and then, opening as if he wanted to speak, yet no words ever managed to escape. The frustration he had been carrying for days clung to him like a heavy shadow.
Seeing her friend like that made something deep inside Amamiya ache. She couldn't hide how much it hurt her. She understood perfectly well that she had burdened him, perhaps far more than she ever intended.
She slowly slipped her hands out from under the blanket and reached for his right hand. When she held it, Tamaki felt the lingering heat of her fever, warm and fragile. He tried to tell her not to force herself, but the words died on his tongue the moment he saw her gaze. Those eyes looked straight into him, deeper than he was ready for, as if they could touch the parts of his heart he had been hiding away.
"Don't worry, Tamaki. I can carry my own burdens. Whatever happened was my own mistake," she whispered. She paused for a moment, yet her heart still felt strangely tight, as if something inside refused to settle.
"But… I can't stand watching you look so troubled. It hurts more than anything to see how much weight you've been carrying without telling me. We're friends, aren't we? After being together for so long, there shouldn't be any fear or distance left between us."
The moment those words left her lips, something inside Tamaki snapped loose. Tears streamed down his face in an uncontrollable rush. He cried in silence at first, desperate not to interrupt her, but the emotions he had dammed up for so long were finally spilling over.
"So… it would be better if we're both honest from now on. No more holding anything inside, alright?"
Tamaki could no longer restrain himself. He wept like a child, overwhelmed and trembling. Then he moved toward her and wrapped his arms around her tightly, as if afraid she might disappear if he let go, crying with all the pain he had tried so hard to hide.