In Tokyo in December, the temperature dropped quickly after dark.
Mizuho had only worn a trench coat when she went out, with the thin knit sweater she had on when she left in the morning underneath. Outdoors, the cold wind poured in through the collar, crept in through the cuffs, and crawled up from the hem of her clothes, chilling her.
Mizuho had already taken off her sunglasses. She fastened the buttons of her trench coat, turned up the collar, hunched her shoulders, and kept walking.
The duplicate poked its head out of the handbag and asked, “Aren’t we going to train today?”
“I have work tomorrow, so let’s head back early,” Mizuho’s voice was tight in the wind. “Especially after a battle like that with Hifumi, the work will just keep piling up.”
“It’s about cleaning up after Yuan Qing, isn’t it?”
Mizuho replied with a hint of doubt, “Is that it? I suppose so.”
The duplicate lay on the edge of the handbag, watching Mizuho’s profile.
Looking up from below, even without the sunglasses, it was hard to see the look in Mizuho’s eyes. But the corners of her mouth were flat—not smiling, not frowning, just devoid of any expression.
“Still walking back?” the duplicate tilted its head.
“Yeah,” Mizuho said. “I want to feel the wind for a bit.”
Mizuho walked faster, her heels clicking crisply and rhythmically on the asphalt.
Streetlights passed over her head one by one. Her shadow stretched long behind her, then shortened, then lengthened again. Occasionally, a car would drive by, stirring up a gust of wind that blew her hair into her face. She would brush it aside and keep walking.
Mizuho’s home wasn’t too far. Before too long, she arrived at the apartment building.
The lobby was warm, the heating turned up high, a stark contrast to the cold wind outside.
Mizuho entered the elevator and pressed the button for her floor. Her reflection appeared on the metal walls—her hair a bit messy, the collar of her trench coat still turned up. She smoothed her hair in the reflection and straightened out the wrinkles on her clothes.
“Hmm~ hmm~”
She hummed a tune, the tension seeming to ease a little.
The elevator doors opened.
She stepped out, took her keys from her bag, opened the door, entered, closed the door, changed her shoes, hung her trench coat on the rack by the entrance, placed her bag on the console table in the entryway, set down her sunglasses, walked into the living room, and sat down on the sofa.
“Ah, finally home,” the duplicate immediately crawled out of the handbag and flopped onto the sofa. “I was cooped up in that bag for way too long today.”
“Going to sleep?” Mizuho looked at the duplicate.
The duplicate replied weakly, “Pretty much. My main body is about to fall asleep too. I still have to train Yuan Qing tomorrow.”
“I see…” Mizuho fell silent for a long while, then suddenly spoke up. “Are you going to accept Hifumi’s invitation?”
The duplicate didn’t answer. Mizuho looked at it lying beside her; it had already fallen asleep during the silence.
Mizuho took her phone from her pocket, opened the message list. It was all work arrangements from her management team for the coming days. She didn’t read them, just scrolled down. The first message after all that was from Yuan Qing.
She tapped on Yuan Qing’s message and typed a few words.
Mizuho: “Have you eaten?”
After sending it, she stared at the screen. After a few seconds with no reply, she placed the phone on the coffee table, got up, went to the bathroom to wash her face, dried it with a towel, and when she returned, her phone screen lit up.
“Hmm~ hmm~”
She walked over, picked it up, still humming the tune.
Yuan Qing: “No.”
Mizuho: “Wait, I’ll order you some takeout.”
Yuan Qing: “No need. I have rice balls.”
Mizuho: “Can’t you be a little nicer to yourself?”
Yuan Qing: “Rice balls are good. Cheap, convenient, and no dishes to wash.”
This time, Yuan Qing replied quite quickly.
Mizuho: “Send me your address.”
Yuan Qing: “?”
Mizuho: “I’m ordering you takeout.”
Yuan Qing: “Don’t.”
Mizuho: “Address.”
Yuan Qing didn’t send a message for a moment, then, as if finally giving in, sent a location pin.
Mizuho didn’t look at exactly where it was. She just opened a food delivery app, scrolled for a while, and finally chose a restaurant she had eaten at before. She ordered a beef curry rice and added a miso soup.
Order placed.
She put her phone back on the coffee table, leaned back on the sofa, and closed her eyes. Light from outside the window shone on Mizuho’s face. Her eyelashes were long, casting a small shadow under her eyes. Her breathing was light and slow; she was almost asleep.
Today, Miss Raven lost to Kazama Hifumi.
Today, over five million people, along with the twelve thousand in the stadium, witnessed “my” defeat.
Raven said that Mr. Luo had a chance he could have tried to seize victory, but because he hesitated for half a second before Miss Kazama, he missed that chance.
Just half a second, and Mr. Luo’s life was forced onto a different path.
What kind of resolve did he embrace, to choose not to get up again after falling for the second time?
Suddenly, Mizuho’s phone rang. She opened it to see that over half an hour had passed. It was a notification from the delivery app, saying the order had been delivered.
Mizuho opened her eyes, picked up her phone, glanced at it, then opened her chat history with Yuan Qing.
Mizuho: “It’s delivered.”
Yuan Qing: “Got it. Thanks.”
Mizuho looked at Yuan Qing’s reply, typed a few words, deleted them, then typed a few more.
Mizuho: “Eat and get to bed early.”
Yuan Qing: “Yeah.”
Mizuho put her phone down, stood up, and walked to the window.
Outside was the night view of Tokyo, a dense spread of countless lights greedily stretching toward the horizon. She didn’t know which light belonged to Yuan Qing. And right now, he was in a foreign country, eating beef curry rice and drinking miso soup.
In Yuan Qing’s room.
Raven was already asleep on the windowsill. Its nerves had been strained tight all day. Yuan Qing, however, seemed indifferent, still eating his takeout while watching his phone.
He had turned the phone volume very low to avoid disturbing Raven. Playing on the phone was a video of Mizuho from when she was a child star.
The resolution wasn’t very high, but you could still clearly see her on the screen, laughing happily, her curly hair swaying gently with her movements, looking particularly lively.
…The beef curry is really good. I’ll order this again next time.
“The light of fireflies~ the snow at the window~
“Years of reading~ day after day~
“Time flies~ already ten thousand volumes~
“Looking back~ all has become the past~”
It was “Hotaru no Hikari” (The Light of Fireflies).
After she finished singing, the adults in the audience applauded.
“Thank you! Thank you for your support!” The young Mizuho bowed repeatedly to the applause, smiling brightly.
“Wow, you sang so well,” the host applauded as she handed the microphone to Mizuho. “So, can you tell us, little Mizuho, why do you want to be a big star?”
Still just a little girl, Mizuho faced the camera. She was clearly delighted by the question. “Because I want to be as pretty as a Magical Girl!”
The audience burst into laughter. The young Mizuho naturally didn’t understand the meaning behind that laughter; she just laughed along.
The host teased her, “Little Mizuho is really amazing. So, can you tell us, what kind of Familiar would you most want to make a contract with?”
So Mizuho answered seriously, “Of course, the prettiest Familiar!”
Yuan Qing watched the screen, still chewing his beef curry.
The blanket was still the same, not folded since he got up in the morning. Raven slept on the windowsill. And the scattered lights outside the window were indistinguishable from yesterday’s.
Everything seemed the same as before, yet something had definitely changed. Yuan Qing stood in the middle of it all, just hesitating.
The world grew blurry.
“Even if we go our separate ways~ far apart~
“Our hearts~ are still tightly connected~
“Now, let us~ sing this song together~
“Until we meet again~ until we meet again~”
Mizuho sang softly like this, no longer just humming the melody.