The grass was damp under my shoes, still holding last night's dew. We'd walked for hours, until the city streets fell behind us, until the neon lights thinned into faint, scattered houses, until even the crickets seemed tired. By the time we reached the hill, the sky was already pale — that hushed blue that comes just before the sun climbs over the mountains.

From up here, Kyoto looked like it was still asleep. A blanket of fog pressed down over the rooftops, softening everything into shapes without edges. The towers and wires, the streets and rivers — all blurred into the same gray wash.

We didn't talk at first. We just stood there, breathing, the morning air sharp and cool in our lungs. My pulse slowed in my ears, caught between exhaustion and the strange, trembling stillness of it all.

Merry tugged her coat a little tighter and let out a long sigh. "It almost feels like the city's holding its breath."

"Yeah." My voice cracked in the cold. "Feels wrong to break the silence."

She gave a faint laugh, but it faded quickly. We stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the fog drift and part. Bits of the city flickered into view, only to vanish again.

Then, softly, like she was speaking into her own thoughts more than to me, Merry said: "Renko... do you think, if there's another world after this one... we'd still be friends there?"

Her words caught me off guard, heavy in the quiet. I looked at her, but she wasn't looking back — just at the city below, her breath fogging faintly in the air.

"...Huh?" I managed, stupidly, because I didn't know what else to say.

She smiled, a thin, fragile thing. "I don't know either. But... maybe. Maybe we would. Maybe we'll meet again, even if it's somewhere else. Even if it's not like this."

I swallowed, my throat tight. "You mean... after we're gone?"

Her eyes flicked toward me, then away. "We'll die someday. You know that. We'll turn to ash, and the earth will take us back. Maybe the trees will grow stronger because of it. Maybe someone will walk by them without ever knowing. And maybe... maybe our souls will meet again. Somewhere warmer than this hill."

The words landed inside me like a stone sinking through water — slow, unstoppable. I wanted to answer, to tell her yes, of course we would, but the truth stuck in my chest. The truth was, I didn't know.

My eyes blurred before I could stop them. The fog below shifted, and the rooftops of the city swam in and out of sight like islands. My voice trembled when I finally said, "I don't want it to end. Any of it. Us."

Merry turned then, and I saw her eyes glisten, catching the faint light. She smiled again, but this time it broke. "Me neither."

I couldn't hold it in anymore. My hands shook as I reached for her, and she came into my arms without hesitation. We held each other tight, like the earth might split open and swallow us if we let go. I felt her shoulders shiver, and whether it was from the cold or from her crying, I couldn't tell.

The fog shifted again, curling up the hill, brushing against us as if it wanted to listen. The silence was thick, except for the sound of our breathing, tangled and uneven.

I buried my face in her hair, whispering, "Even if the whole world forgets us... I'll remember you."

Her reply was muffled against my shoulder. "And I'll remember you."

The first edge of the sun broke over the mountains. Golden light spilled across the horizon, stretching down into the valley, scattering the fog into ribbons. The city stirred beneath us, rooftops glowing faintly as if they'd just woken.

We pulled apart enough to see it, our hands still clutching at each other's sleeves. My cheeks were wet, hers too, but neither of us tried to hide it.

The sun climbed higher, staining the sky in pale gold. The fog thinned, the city sharpened, the moment slipped further into something that was already passing.

Merry wiped at her face with the back of her hand, still smiling through it. "Someday, Renko... maybe in another world, maybe not here... let's meet again. Promise?"

I nodded, my throat too tight for words.

The light wrapped around us, bright enough to sting my eyes. I blinked, and for a heartbeat, I thought I saw us not as we were, but as something else — two figures, small and fleeting, caught in the endless turning of the earth.

The warmth reached us at last, brushing our faces, soft and fragile as a farewell.

We stood there, still holding on, while the sun climbed higher.