In the cold mornings of Shirayuki City, Roshia lives his life trying not to take up space. At 195 centimeters tall with pale blond hair and gray-blue eyes, his presence alone makes strangers flinch, clerks straighten their backs, and train passengers edge away. His night shifts at the warehouse leave him hollow, and his only comfort is a quiet corner of a café where he can pretend, for a few hours, that being alone doesn't look out of place.
Then one December morning, a stranger asks to share h
Beyond the Scarf - On the snowy way home, a heart unraveled
The snow kept falling, soft and silent.
Night in Shirayuki City. Two men walked side by side along the road past the station's arcade, heading toward the residential district.
One was a giant of a man — a full head taller than most, maybe two. His pale blond bangs had grown long enough to brush his eyes, and his large gray-blue eyes held something almost childlike. His shoulders were broad, his hands huge. Even through his coat, you could tell how solidly built he was.
Roshia. Twenty-four. He worked the night shift sorting packages at the Shirayuki Logistics Center.
The other man was far smaller. His black hair was neatly parted seven-to-three, and he wore thin, black-rimmed glasses. His dark brown eyes were calm, and when he smiled, they curved gently. His fingertips were clean and well-kept, and he always carried a small cloth pouch — filled with tea leaves.
Nihon. Twenty-five. A clerk at the long-established tea shop Tsumugi-en.
Between the two of them, there were no words.
A little while ago, in front of the convenience store, a stranger had cornered Roshia. Touched his shoulder, grabbed his arm, tried to peer at his phone. Roshia couldn't even get out the words to refuse. Then Nihon — the very man he'd been avoiding — had come charging in. He'd glared at the stranger in a low voice and shielded Roshia with his back. The man left, and Nihon said, "I'll walk you home."
Since then, silence.
(Why)
Roshia stole a glance at Nihon's profile as they walked.
(Why did Nihon-san do that)
(Why, when he'd been avoiding me)
(Why did he protect me)
No answer came.
The snow fell fine and soundless, piling up. The streetlights cast a hazy glow on the white flakes. His breath clouded white, and the wool of his scarf felt just barely warm against his chilled cheek.
The precious scarf his sister Ukuraina had knitted for him.
Roshia gripped its edge tight.
――――
Nihon walked matching Roshia's stride.
A big man's steps were wide for someone as small as Nihon. Normally, he'd have had to trot to keep up. But Nihon was there beside Roshia, effortlessly, naturally.
(It was the same that day, too)
Roshia was remembering.
The day he and Nihon first walked through the city together. That snowy day too, Nihon had matched his pace and walked beside him. He'd fixed Roshia's scarf, given him gloves, and quietly said, "It's something precious to you, isn't it."
(Back then, I was happy)
(Walking beside him made me so happy)
(And yet, now)
(Why does it hurt so much)
Roshia buried half his face in his scarf.
The smell of wool. The cold of the snow. And faintly, the scent of tea leaves.
(...Nihon-san's scent)
(He was beside me just moments ago)
(He was right there, and yet)
Something deep in his chest gave a sharp, tight ache.
――――
How long had they walked?
They'd passed the Shirayuki River promenade and turned onto a narrow residential street.
Suddenly, Nihon stopped.
Roshia stopped too.
He turned around.
Nihon was looking down.
Snow had settled thinly on the shoulders of his black coat. His pale gray scarf stirred faintly with his white breath.
"...Roshia-san."
Nihon's voice was trembling.
It was nothing like the voice that had glared so sharply at that man in front of the convenience store. It was small, frail — so faint it might vanish.
"...There's something I have to tell you."
Roshia held his breath.
(Something he has to tell me)
(What is it)
(That he doesn't want to see me anymore)
(Is that it?)
His heart pounded hard in his chest.
But Nihon didn't start speaking. He kept his head down, his lips parting again and again, only to close.
The snow fell quietly between them.
It was as if sound were draining from the world.
All he could hear was the sound of falling snow and their faint breathing.
――――
"...The reason I was avoiding you..."
Nihon finally spoke.
His voice shook.
"...It wasn't because I disliked you."
Roshia's body gave a small jolt.
(...What?)
"...It was the opposite, actually."
Nihon went on, still unable to lift his face.
"...It's because the time I spent with you had become so precious to me."
(Precious)
"...It became too precious, and I got scared."
(Scared)
"...I was afraid that getting too close would ruin what we had."
Nihon's voice dissolved into the snowy night.
"...You're so much more honest than me, so much kinder."
"...What if I did something unnecessary and hurt you?"
"...Once that thought took hold, I couldn't stop being afraid."
Nihon gripped the edge of his own scarf tight.
"...So I tried to put distance between us."
"...I made my replies slower."
"...I turned down your invitations."
"...I tried not to think about you."
Nihon's shoulders trembled slightly.
"...But I couldn't do it."
"...Today too, I saw you going into the convenience store."
"...I saw that man touching you."
"...Before I knew it, I was running."
Roshia couldn't move.
He'd forgotten how to breathe, how to blink.
He just listened to Nihon's words.
――――
"...I often think back to when I first started working at the tea shop."
Nihon murmured, as if to himself.
"...There was a regular customer, an old man who was terribly particular about his tea."
A single flake fell onto Nihon's glasses.
"...I brewed him the finest leaves at the finest temperature and served it to him."
"...I was confident."
"...But he took one sip and said this."
Nihon paused for a moment.
"...'This isn't to my taste.'"
His voice seemed to trace the old man's words exactly.
"...I was so frustrated that for the next three weeks, I experimented every single day."
"...Changing the temperature by the second."
"...Changing the amount of leaves by the gram."
"...Changing how I brewed it, over and over and over."
"...And three weeks later, I finally got him to say, 'This is it.'"
That was when Nihon lifted his head for the first time.
But he didn't meet Roshia's eyes.
"...In that moment, what I felt before the joy was fear."
(Fear)
"...Ah, I thought. This is what this person wants."
"...This is the one and only answer that will make this person happy."
"...And once I thought that, all I could think was — what if next time I get it wrong?"
"...I couldn't stop thinking about it."
Nihon's voice began to tremble again.
"...The desire to make someone happy — it's so strong in me that..."
"...I end up fearing failure and putting distance between us instead."
"...That's my bad habit."
Nihon gave a small, self-mocking laugh.
But that smile looked like it was about to break into tears.
"...I did the same thing to you."
"...Even though I wanted to make you happy."
"...I was so afraid of hurting you."
"...I ran away."
Nihon bowed his head — deep, deep.
"...I'm sorry."
His voice was so small it might have been swallowed by the snowy night.
"...I'm truly sorry."
Nihon stayed bowed, motionless.
The snow settled quietly on his back.
――――
Roshia couldn't say anything.
The words seemed frozen in his throat, unable to come out.
(Nihon-san was)
(Avoiding me)
(Not because he hated me)
(Because he was afraid of hurting me)
(He wanted to make me happy)
(That's what he was thinking)
Something inside his chest was churning, all mixed up.
Happy.
Sad.
Relieved.
Hurting.
It all blurred together, and he felt like he might cry.
(This person too)
(He's just like me)
Roshia thought.
(He doesn't know how to keep his distance from people)
(He was suffering)
(Just like me)
Roshia gripped the edge of his scarf tight.
His fingers were shaking.
Tears welled up.
But he didn't want to cry.
If he cried, he felt like Nihon would suffer even more.
So he held it back with everything he had.
He gritted his teeth, opened his eyes wide, and held back the tears.
――――
How long had they stood like that?
Snow piled white on both their shoulders.
Roshia finally opened his mouth, his voice shaking.
"...I..."
His voice was hoarse.
"...I thought you hated me."
Those words came out so small and faint it surprised even him.
"...Your replies stopped coming."
"...You turned down my invitations."
"...I wondered if I'd done something wrong."
"...I thought about it, over and over."
"...But I couldn't figure it out."
"...Every day, every day, I was scared."
A tear traced down his cheek.
He'd tried to hold it back, but he couldn't.
"...I thought you hated me."
Roshia repeated the same words again.
"...I thought Nihon-san hated me."
His voice shook, the ends of his words fading away.
"...I'm glad..."
"...I'm glad it wasn't that."
"...I'm so glad."
The tears wouldn't stop.
They fell pattering onto the snow.
Nihon lifted his face.
His dark brown eyes were wide open.
And in them, too, tears had gathered.
――――
Nihon took a step toward Roshia.
The small sound of snow underfoot.
Nihon wrapped both hands around Roshia's large hand.
Roshia's hand was cold as ice.
But Nihon's hands were even colder.
Those fingertips that handled tea leaves had gone completely cold in the winter night air.
"...Me too."
Nihon's voice was trembling.
"...I thought you hated me."
"...Because I'd put distance between us."
"...I thought you'd come to hate me."
"...But I was wrong."
"...You were watching me today, too."
"...When I ran in, you didn't push me away."
Nihon's fingers squeezed Roshia's hand tight.
"...Thank you."
"...For being there."
"...Thank you, truly."
Inside Roshia's hand, Nihon's hand trembled slightly.
Cold hands.
And yet, that trembling felt warm to him.
(This person's hands)
(They're so cold)
(So why do they feel so warm)
Roshia slowly moved his fingers.
He squeezed Nihon's hand back.
With his large hand, he gently wrapped Nihon's cold one.
"...Thank you."
Roshia murmured.
"...I should be the one thanking you."
"...For helping me."
"...For protecting me."
"...Thank you, truly."
Roshia's voice was still shaking.
But it was a little clearer than before.
――――
The snow kept falling quietly between them.
The world was white and silent, and kind beyond measure.
Roshia thought.
(Until now, I've never had)
(A relationship where someone thought of me)
(As someone they didn't want to break)
(I wanted friends)
(I wanted them so, so badly)
(But I never knew how to make them)
(So I searched for places where being alone didn't feel out of place)
(At the window seat of a café)
(Reading a book)
(So no one would talk to me)
(So I wouldn't cause trouble for anyone)
(That's how I've lived)
(But)
(Now, right in front of me)
(There's someone holding my hand)
(There's someone who doesn't want to break me)
(There's someone who wants to make me happy)
Something deep in his chest grew hot.
Bit by bit, something was spreading.
(Ah, I see)
(This is)
(What I've wanted all along)
Roshia buried his face in his scarf.
The wool was wet with tears.
But those tears were no longer only sad.
――――
"...We're almost at your place."
Nihon smiled faintly.
His eyes were still red.
But that smile was different from the strained one before.
It was soft, warm, and just a little shy.
Roshia nodded.
"...Yeah."
They let go of each other's hands.
But the distance between them was so much closer than before.
They walked side by side, close enough that their shoulders might touch.
――――
As they walked on, there was no longer that tense silence between them.
There were few words.
But it wasn't an awkward silence.
Something that couldn't be put into words was definitely flowing between them.
The snow fell quietly, as it always had.
The streetlights cast a hazy glow on the white road.
"...The snow's really coming down."
Nihon said, looking up at the sky.
"...Yeah."
Roshia looked up too.
Countless flakes danced down from the dark sky.
"...It might be piled up by tomorrow morning."
"...Maybe."
Roshia paused a moment before speaking.
"...Um, Nihon-san."
"...Yes?"
Nihon looked up at Roshia.
Roshia's words caught for a moment.
But
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