The green of the Kantou Great Forest sparkled in the morning light. Five days had passed since that night by the river. Yomi remained at Senkū's side with only a single phrase—"The road to the next village is the same way"—and nothing more. There was no formal declaration of companionship. Yet somehow, each morning they shouldered their packs at the same time. That was all, Yomi told herself. --- The two of them made their way through the small settlements scattered along the southern edge of the Kantou Great Forest at a pace of one village per day. That day's village was a cluster of about twelve houses nestled at the foot of a moss-covered hill of iron skeletal remains. It lay roughly seventy kilometers northeast of Ishinomiya, further south than the active range of Takao Outpost Village. The villagers were a mix of revived people and descendants who had escaped petrification. The moment Senkū stepped into the village entrance, his eyes were already gleaming. "[excited]Alright, first we collect samples! I need to document the infection patterns of Ishiyami. I'll need saliva and skin tissue samples from all of you——" Smack. Yomi's hand grabbed Senkū's arm and stopped him. "[cold]Patients aren't experimental materials, you know" "[surprised]I know, data collection is scientific——" "[cold]First, we listen. We ask about their symptoms. That comes first" Senkū's mouth twisted into a line. Yomi had already turned toward the villagers and begun asking gently, "Is anyone feeling unwell?" The villagers were whispering as they watched the two exchange words. An old woman leaned over to the woman beside her. "They're like a married couple, aren't they" "[angry]We are not!" "[surprised]They're calling us a couple again. Why does it look that way...?" Senkū genuinely tilted his head. His greenish-silver hair bobbed messily, and the red mesh in his bangs stuck to his forehead. Yomi averted her gaze from that face and followed the villager's guidance deeper into the settlement. This exchange was happening for the fourth time today. --- In a house at the edge of the village, there was a boy. Around eight years old. He sat on the floor, hugging both his arms. The skin on his arms was white and cracked, and each movement caused pain—he bit his lip hard, holding back tears. Ishiyami. A lingering condition that appeared in revived people long after petrification was undone, where the skin cracked and became inflamed. Yomi had recorded that it occurred in roughly one out of every fifteen revived people. Senkū immediately knelt down to observe the arms. "[serious]The cracks extend from the epidermis to the dermis layer. It's a combination of desiccation and petrification residue. A salve mixed with horse fat and sulfur in a one-to-three ratio should work" "Wait" Yomi also knelt on the opposite side. She gently placed her fingertips on the boy's arm, slowly confirming the boundary areas. Her amber eyes narrowed. "The penetration is deeper on the right arm. There's redness. That mixture would irritate the tissue itself. The left is shallow, so we should wait a day before treating the right" "...Then we start with the left and try a diluted version on the right. First, half concentration" "That works" It wasn't an argument. They were simply facing the same direction, thinking together. Senkū pulled materials from his pack and began mixing the formula. Yomi steadied the boy's arm while speaking gently: "It'll hurt just a little, but you'll feel better soon." "[gentle]What's your name?" "...Kai" "[gentle]Kai. Hang in there, just a bit longer" The salve was complete thirty minutes later. Apply, wait, check the affected area, apply again. Senkū and Yomi worked without a single unnecessary word. By the time the afternoon light slanting through the window had grown steeper, Kai slowly moved his arm. "...Ah" A small voice. Then he moved it again. "[excited]It doesn't hurt!!" The boy jumped to his feet and ran around the house. He bolted outside. From the backyard came the sound of "It doesn't hurt—!" Yomi watched his retreating back. For just a moment, her lips softened. A quiet smile that was barely a smile at all. Senkū saw her profile. Something throbbed deep in his chest. (What...?) He wasn't running. He hadn't lifted anything heavy. Had he inhaled volatile compounds from the salve? No, the mixture of sulfur and horse fat contained no components that would elevate heart rate. (I can't explain this scientifically.) Senkū was genuinely bewildered as he looked away. --- Night fell. They built a fire at the edge of the village. The wood was dry and burned well. The sound of insects drifted from the forest. Stars were out. Above the Kantou Great Forest, there was nothing to block the light, and the sky was vast. Senkū placed his experiment notebook on his lap and recorded today's treatment data. The ratio of horse fat, the purity of sulfur, the correlation between application time and reaction. When numbers were arranged in order, he felt calm. The world could always be explained with numbers. Yomi sat on the opposite side, recording in her case notes. The sound of her pen moving was audible. After a while, Yomi stopped writing. "...Hey" "What" "Back at that lab, I was basically air to you, wasn't I" Senkū stopped moving his pen. "You were obsessed with dramas, wore earbuds during experiments, and didn't even respond when I called out to you" Her voice was calm. She wasn't blaming him—it was just the way someone speaks when remembering something. But in the firelight, her profile showed her lips slightly pursed. Senkū was silent for a while, then looked up at the night sky. So many stars. The starry sky of a world without old-world lighting always had too many stars. "...No" Senkū opened his mouth. "[serious]If you hadn't been there, I wouldn't have gotten past page five of my experiment notebook. Your hypotheses were always right" Yomi looked up. One second. Two seconds. Yomi stared at Senkū. Senkū had returned his gaze to his notebook. There was no special intention in his expression. He had simply said what he was thinking. "...Idiot" A small voice. Then Yomi turned her back. Senkū didn't understand. He had complimented her—why would she call him an idiot? It didn't follow logically. He tilted his head but said nothing, returning to his notebook. He didn't notice that Yomi's shoulders trembled ever so slightly. --- From that night on, where they sat by the fire changed. Senkū casually came over and sat beside Yomi. They stopped facing each other. "[serious]The heat distribution is more uniform this way. Thermal efficiency improves" Yomi said nothing. She simply turned the page of her notebook. Their shadows stretched in the same direction. --- The next morning, as the sky began to pale, they prepared to depart. Yomi was checking the knots on her pack. Senkū was checking the battery on the wireless radio. The morning bird calls were loud. The forest air was humid, carrying the scent of leaves. Zazz. Static crackled from the radio. Then a bright voice burst through. "[excited]Senkū—!! Come back soon! Let's continue the experiment! Everyone says they're lonely without you! I want you to come back soon too!" Kohaku's voice echoed at full volume through the quiet morning forest. Senkū adjusted his grip on the radio. "[serious]Yeah, I'll contact you later. I'm traveling right now" He said only that and cut the transmission. He retied the knots on his pack. "Let's go" When he turned around, Yomi had shouldered her pack. Her expression was gone. Not the profile from last night's fire, not the smile when the child ran off. Nothing at all. "[cold]...Yes" That was all she answered. They began walking. Yomi walked slightly behind Senkū, maintaining a fixed distance. As Senkū walked forward, he sensed something behind him. Something was wrong. Until yesterday, she had been chattering complaints the whole way. "[surprised]Did I do something bad?" "[cold]Nothing at all" Her voice was flat. Senkū faced forward. (She says nothing is wrong. But her expression says something is. How do I reconcile this contradiction——) He walked while thinking. Forest leaves swayed in the wind. A bird called in the distance. Only their footsteps sounded, each keeping its own rhythm against the ground. The air that had continued until last night had vanished without a trace. Senkū couldn't understand why. But in Yomi's profile, something was taking root that Senkū knew nothing about.