Morning sunlight softly illuminated the windows of Kasumigaoka Housing Complex. It was the warm April sunshine. 紗彩 checked the time. 7:30. Her shift at the daycare started at 8:45. The usual rhythm. It should have been like any other day — and yet something felt different from yesterday. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Deep brown eyes. Black short hair, unchanged as always. The faint bruise on her left wrist, unchanged as well. And yet — (Something has changed.) A small restlessness stirred in the depths of her heart. 北沢's straightforward gaze. The careful way he'd responded to 凛人. That moment when he'd stopped mid-sentence at "I imagine it must be difficult doing this alone." 紗彩 found herself smiling without thinking. She'd sent 凛人 off to school at 7:50 — five minutes earlier than usual. On the walk to Kasumigaoka Elementary, 凛人 had chattered happily about his homeroom teacher. About 北沢. Describing him as "calm, like he really understands things." As 紗彩 listened, she felt warmth spreading slowly through her chest. After watching 凛人 pass through the school gates, 紗彩 headed toward Shiina Street. The path to Yanagi Station. Down Hatchomura Street, through a narrow side alley, and eventually Komorebi Daycare came into view. The zelkova tree in the garden was thick with fresh green leaves. Beneath it, 堀川節子, the daycare director, was greeting the arriving children. 堀川 was sixty-two. Her hair, streaked with white, was cut short, and she never let her warm smile fade. She'd been director here for twelve years — a veteran. 紗彩 had always felt that the daycare's gentle atmosphere sprang from 堀川's own character. "Oh, 紗彩. Good morning." 紗彩 returned the greeting. "Good morning." 堀川's eyes suddenly fixed on 紗彩's face. In that gaze lived the keen observational eye of someone who'd spent years in childcare, watching countless children and parents. "紗彩, did something good happen?" Her heart jumped. That couldn't be. Financially, things were still tight. 凛人 still had learning challenges to work through. Her daily life hadn't changed. And yet — "No, nothing really..." She'd meant to deny it curtly. But immediately after those words, 紗彩 realized something: her expression had softened. 堀川 smiled. There was no probing in that smile, only warm acknowledgment. "When you have a face like that, it puts everyone around you at ease." Those words fell deep into 紗彩's chest. The impact her expression had on those around her. For five years, what kind of face had she been wearing? Probably always clouded with anxiety and exhaustion. Probably the face she'd been forcing 凛人 to see. "Thank you." The morning childcare proceeded as it always did. Getting the children ready. Helping with meals. Watching over playtime. And yet everything looked different — painted in a different color than yesterday. The children's smiles. The joy of answering those smiles. It felt as though she'd left behind some precious emotion for five years. When nap time came, the children grew quiet with sleep. The playroom was wrapped in silence. Only the occasional sound of a child shifting in their sleep. 堀川 gestured for 紗彩 to come. "Come outside for a moment." They walked to the shade of the zelkova tree. The old zelkova, with its long years, filtered the sunlight through its fresh green leaves. Beneath it was cool, wrapped in a kind of quiet. 堀川 sat on the bench at the tree's roots, positioned for comfort. 紗彩 settled beside her. "紗彩, do you remember what it was like when someone did something for you?" 紗彩 was confused. She didn't understand what was being asked. "When I was young — when my child was small — I was a single mother." 紗彩 was startled. She'd never heard that 堀川 had been a single mother. "It was so hard back then. Worrying about my child's future, about money, whether I was being a good enough mother — I was always full of anxiety." 堀川's eyes seemed to be gazing at distant memories. "But what I learned then was that if you don't take care of yourself, it affects your child too. Raising children is important, but you matter too." 紗彩's chest tightened. Taking care of yourself. In that moment, she realized this concept had been missing from her life for five years. "I... I'm sorry..." Her words caught. 堀川's words had pierced too deeply into her heart. "There's nothing to apologize for. Just think about what comes next." The rustle of zelkova leaves. Spring wind blowing gently. 堀川 started to say something, then stopped. Instead, she placed a hand on 紗彩's shoulder. The warmth of that hand. (Maybe it's okay to open my heart to someone.) A small hope began to take root in 紗彩's heart. 3 PM. After finishing work, 紗彩 took a slightly longer route, heading toward Shiina Street. Not toward Yanagi Station, but toward the shopping district. The sign for Nakajima Bakery came into view. A retro wooden sign from the Showa era. The owner, 中島隆, was sixty-seven — a craftsman. Every morning, he baked bread himself. "Welcome." 中島's voice was always filled with the same gentleness. "The usual loaf of bread, please." At the register, 中島 wrapped the bread in paper. The motion was automatic, born of long habit. "You have a nice expression today, 紗彩." 紗彩 was surprised. After 堀川, now 中島 too. "Oh... do I?" "Yeah. Something good must have happened. A face like that is always different." 中島 smiled. In that smile lived the understanding of human connection that came from watching this town for more than half a century. On the way home. Taking a detour to the Nishina River's embankment. This season, spring wildflowers were sprouting along the embankment path. Dandelions, speedwell. Small lives welcoming the new season. (Small warmth is melting my frozen heart.) That's how it felt. 堀川's words. 中島's smile. 凛人's pure laughter. 北沢's sincere gaze. All of it was slowly bringing spring to the heart that had been frozen for five years. 5 PM. When 紗彩 returned to apartment 305 in the housing complex, 凛人 hadn't come home from school yet. He'd be back from after-school care around 5:30. 紗彩 stood in the kitchen. What should she make today? Maybe she'd put a little more care into it than usual. That's what she felt like doing. The Nishina River visible through the window. Beyond it, Kasumigaoka Elementary. Where 凛人 was right now, what he was doing. Maybe he was in 北沢's classroom, working on homework. (What will happen from here on?) 紗彩 lit the flame under the frying pan. That fire seemed to illuminate her anticipation for something new.