When he opened his eyes, the first thing he thought was——where am I? The ceiling was different. Lower than his own bedroom, with pale pink wallpaper. Autumn morning light filtered through a gap in the curtains, casting thin stripes across the back of the sofa. (Ah, right.) Amber's living room. Mark slowly pushed himself up. His body felt heavy. He'd lost count of how much he'd cried last night. His shirt front still felt faintly damp——he couldn't tell if it was his tears or hers. He looked beside him. Amber was lying on the sofa, asleep. Her reddish-blonde wavy hair spilled across half her face, her bright green eyes closed. Long lashes cast small shadows on her cheeks, her mouth slightly open. A sleeping face. Nothing special. Just a human sleeping. And yet——without realizing it, a smile had formed on Mark's face. Not a forced one. Not the kind where he told himself "it's okay, it can't be helped." This was different. His chest had warmed from the very center, and that warmth had taken the shape of a smile. How many weeks had it been? Maybe he'd forgotten even longer ago. Mark quietly stood and draped the blanket that had caught on the sofa's back over Amber. Holding his breath so as not to wake her. --- "[surprised]Mach 3 is how many kilometers per hour?" Amber asked while frying eggs. Ten minutes had passed since they'd started making breakfast together in the kitchen. Mark was toasting bread, Amber handling the eggs. The tears and shouting from last night seemed like a lie——the kitchen this morning was peaceful——or so he'd thought, until Amber's engine seemed to warm up. "[gentle]Um... about 3,700 kilometers per hour, I guess." "[surprised]3,700?!" Amber turned while tilting the pan. Her eyes were wide. "[serious]How many minutes would it take to get to Tokyo?" "[gentle]Tokyo is... probably about three hours. It changes depending on air currents and altitude, so I can't say for sure." "Hmm." As Amber transferred the fried eggs to a plate, she left a very long pause after that "hmm." Mark sensed what it meant and tensed slightly. "[serious]The GDA runs on our tax dollars, doesn't it?" "...It does." "[serious]What's the annual budget?" "[gentle]About 4.2 billion dollars..." "4.2 billion." Amber set the toast in front of Mark. She placed it with slightly too much care. She wasn't angry. But her face showed she was calculating something. "[serious]So what's your salary?" "[gentle]Annual base pay is... about 48,000 dollars." "[surprised]That's just a regular office worker." Mark nodded. He was just a regular office worker. "[serious]And that scar on your shoulder. The one you said was muscle soreness last month." Mark's hand stopped. The knife spreading butter on the toast went still. "[serious]...Combat?" "...Yeah." "[serious]The one on your side too?" "Yeah." "[serious]The scrape on your elbow?" "Yeah." Amber crossed her arms. "[serious]How many times did you say muscle soreness?" Mark stared at the ceiling for a while. He actually counted. "[gentle]...Three times, maybe?" "[angry]Three times!" Amber raised her voice. But she wasn't shouting. It was more like——exasperation. "[serious]Tell me the truth next time. I'll put a heating pad on it for you." Mark froze for a moment at those words. A heating pad. A heating pad for a superhuman's wounds. A man who could fly at Mach 3, lift a hundred tons, whose skin could deflect bullets——and she was going to put a heating pad on him. He tried to hold it back. He really did. But his face crumbled. "[laughing]...That's not the kind of injury a heating pad fixes." "[laughing]Then what is it! I don't know!" They both laughed. Amber burst out first, and Mark followed three seconds later. She laughed and patted his back, he said "ow" dramatically, she said "it doesn't hurt," he admitted "well, it doesn't," and they laughed again. The morning light streaming into the kitchen seemed a little brighter. --- By afternoon, they'd gone out to Upland's Main Street. The autumn festival had been last week, but decorations still remained. Orange, red, and gold leaf-shaped ornaments hung from eaves, rustling whenever the wind blew. It was a busy Saturday afternoon, and a few food stalls were still operating. The sweet smell of roasted chestnuts drifted through the air. Walking beside Amber, Mark noticed their distance was naturally close. Close enough that their shoulders almost touched. Until yesterday, that had frightened him. But not today. Amber said nothing. They just walked together. "[gentle]Have we been here before?" "[gentle]Once during the autumn festival... oh." He stopped mid-sentence. The autumn festival. That night Mark had stood her up. The place where Amber had waited alone. Amber noticed too. There was a brief pause. But——she smiled sadly. Not an angry face, but one that said "yeah, that happened." They walked forward together, treading on the same memory side by side. A little further on, Amber stopped. It was a candy apple stand. Red apples on plastic sticks lined up in a glass case. The surface of the red candy reflected the light, gleaming. Amber stared at it. "[gentle]...That candy apple from back then melted, didn't it?" Her voice was quiet. Not accusing. Just stating fact. But that one sentence held everything——the time she'd spent waiting, watching the candy apple melt, alone. Mark thought for a moment, then said to the stand owner: "[serious]Two, please." "Coming right up!" The owner pulled out two and Mark paid. He took them and offered one to Amber. "[gentle]This time, let's eat it before it melts." Amber took it. A small star-shaped mole on her left wrist was near her fingers gripping the stick. His chest warmed again. In that moment. An electronic sound came from Mark's pocket. The GDA——Global Defense Agency——emergency alert system that sent signals directly to registered heroes——had activated. The receiver embedded in his ear trembled faintly. The smile vanished from Mark's face in an instant. Amber froze too. A quiet tension ran between them. But——Amber took a bite of her candy apple. A crisp sound. "[gentle]Go." Her voice was steady. Not tearful, not angry. "Come back when you're done. I'll hold onto yours." Mark looked at her face. She was smiling. A face sending him off. The girl who'd waited alone that autumn festival night was now smiling and sending him away——that change pierced Mark's chest. Deep. Very deep. "[serious]...I'll definitely come back." He said it with the most honest face he'd shown all day. Amber nodded slightly. Mark ran into a nearby alley. Behind Burger Mart——two blocks from Main Street——the alley with dumpsters and a fire escape. His usual changing spot. He had his costume on in thirty seconds, took a deep breath, and jumped skyward. Upland's blue sky spread above him. --- At almost the same time, a short distance away, Saya was there. A small errand her father had asked her to do——dropping off a package at the station post office——had taken her past Main Street. Her short purple and black hair swayed in the autumn breeze, her left ear piercing glinting. In the crowd, she saw a familiar profile. Amber. Holding a candy apple, looking up at the sky. Saya followed her gaze. ——Something glinted in the blue sky. A small shadow in human form, climbing higher and higher. It quickly receded, became a point, and disappeared. Saya couldn't move for a while. (I see.) She remembered the feeling from that day on the roof, her first day of transfer. Something hidden, desperately trying to seem normal. A loneliness similar to her own——she'd felt it then. Now she understood what it was. Amber kept looking at the sky, taking another bite of her candy apple. Not crying. A waiting face. The face of someone who could wait because she knew he'd come back. A dull pain ran through Saya's chest. She'd been starting to like him. To be honest, she had. But——there was no gap between those two to slip into. She didn't even want to try. That was Saya's answer. She'd chosen to step back. It was the right choice, she thought. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. Saya looked away from Amber, toward the direction the point had disappeared. Mark was nowhere to be seen now. He'd probably headed toward Chicago. If he was flying at Mach speed, he was already far away. Without anyone seeing, she raised her hand slightly. Without speaking, she said it in her heart: ——Take care of yourself, Mark. Then she pulled out her phone. She opened her contacts and pressed "Dad." The phone rang twice. "Hello? Saya? Did you get the package sent?" "[gentle]Yeah, I got it sent. Hey, Dad?" "Hmm?" "[gentle]I think... I've come to like this town. I want to stay here a little longer." There was a pause. "[surprised]...That's unusual for you to say." "[laughing]I know. It's unusual, right?" Saya laughed. She was really laughing. Every time she transferred, she'd kept her distance. Because she'd leave again anyway. But now——she could say with her own mouth that she wanted to stay. It was small, but for Saya, it was something very big. --- High above Upland's sky, Mark cut through the wind toward Chicago. His old shoulder wound still ached slightly. The battles of a hero would continue today. There would be many days when things didn't go well. But not today. There was a place to return to. Amber was waiting with a candy apple. That alone made the sky this blue. On the ground, Amber was walking toward Maple Street. Eating her own candy apple, carefully holding Mark's in front of her chest. The autumn wind blew down the street lined with streetlights, and one of the festival decorations fluttered up. Watching it, Amber smiled softly. She didn't cry. Because she knew he'd come back.