Comics, daily stories

"Ahem." Nomiyama coughed twice. "Well, I gave her all of it."

"But you still killed them, you bastard. I was planning to keep four of them and take them home with me, but you killed them to pieces."

"Why bring four home? If Yukinoshita eats pigeon alone, she'll feel embarrassed. It's better to bring five of them together to eat over there."

"Five won't do."

"what?"

"Hehe, I just want Yukino to be unable to refuse me, and then eat pigeons while being watched by everyone. She'll look adorable, both happy and embarrassed." Eriri Sawamura laughed happily.

"That's why I said you're a devil." Nomiyama let go and patted her head.

"Don't film me, you stinky man, Nomiyama Kazehaya, you damn scumbag!" Sawamura Eriri rattled off several words in the blink of an eye.

Nomiyama moved his hand, preparing to continue beating her.

Eriri Sawamura keenly sensed his restless intentions, so she looked up at the bright red torii gate and asked, "Did you make this torii gate yourself?"

Upon hearing this, Nomiyama stopped thinking and looked up at the torii gate as well.

It was blood-red there, and it had been like that for many years.

"Yeah, I did it myself. I made a door and stuff, so when you walk in, it's my home."

"You don't even have a house, you don't even know where you'll live, pshaw." Eriri Sawamura said disdainfully, then casually added, "Carry me."

Nomiyama glanced at her, too lazy to bother with her.

Eriri Sawamura's voice softened: "Carry me, Kazehaya."

Nomiyama sighed, "You bastard."

Eriri Sawamura reached out and untied the ribbon from her twin ponytails, humming, "Katsunoyama Kazehaya, he still falls head over heels for me."

Nomiyama glanced at her dress, a pale yellow lace dress.

"This is not a pomegranate skirt."

He muttered something to himself and squatted down.

Eriri Sawamura leaned over him, wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and rubbed her cheeks against his black hair.

"Kazehaya, take me there. I haven't been there this year, and they'll blame me."

Nomiyama turned his head to look at the golden strands of hair that had fallen onto his shoulder.

She had just taken her pigtails off, and now her blonde hair was flowing freely.

This situation is actually quite rare. Most of the time, Eriri wears her hair in pigtails, looks silly, and says silly things.

When she lets her hair down, it means she has rediscovered the complexities and hidden aspects that belong to her; she is the mature Eriri, full of ideas.

"They won't blame you, because they love you the most."

Nomiyama spoke softly as he stepped into the icy, snowy landscape.

The sky turned to night in an instant, with stars scattered and sparkling, and the aurora borealis streaking across the sky like a mist, casting an unusual light.

Slightly crouching down, Nomiyama looked at the white ruins before him and said, "Eriri, we've arrived."

Eriri Sawamura got off him: "Mmm."

She strode forward, her unbound blonde hair billowing in the wind and snow.

Nomiyama looked around at the relentless wind and snow, and followed after her.

In just a few more days, the polar night here will end, and then the long polar day will begin. However, the sunlight will not be able to melt away the cold here; it will only bring light, not warmth.

Eriri Sawamura took a few steps and stood at the spot where she had witnessed the manor being burned down, her back to him: "Kazehaya, I've always been curious about what my mindset was when I burned this place down."

Nomiyama watched as snowflakes gradually piled up on her golden hair, then strolled over to her side and looked with her at the protruding, snow-covered roof beams: "I don't know. Maybe she doesn't want to see this place again, maybe she thinks it's better for Grandpa Ivan and Grandma Sasha to remain asleep and not be discovered, or maybe she doesn't want others to know that they killed those people here. Anything is possible."

Eriri Sawamura stretched out her hand, looking at the two white hair ribbons in her palm: "Kazehaya didn't stop me back then."

Nomiyama smiled: "How could I stop you, Eriri? Even if you want to destroy this world one day, I will only support you. To me, you are much more important than anyone else in this world."

Eriri Sawamura smiled back and looked at him: "Except for your family, you'll go crazy if it involves your family."

Nomiyama wasn't worried: "My Eriri isn't crazy, she's just a little silly."

"Pooh."

Eriri Sawamura spat and held out her hand: "It smells good."

Nomiyama reached out, and six sticks of incense appeared in his hand, all of them already lit.

He waved his hand, the wind and snow stopped, the dark clouds dispersed, and this place became a peaceful place of remembrance.

Eriri Sawamura took the three incense sticks from his hand, stepped forward, bowed, and then squatted down to insert them.

Nomiyama synchronized her movements without saying anything more.

“Actually, I’ve always wondered, even though I’m not their granddaughter, and they know that, why are they so good to me? They know it’s fake, don’t they?” Eriri Sawamura straightened up and looked at the burning incense.

“It’s hard to say. Sometimes we don’t necessarily need someone to come back, because we know that person can’t come back. Usually, we just find something to reassure ourselves and comfort ourselves,” Nomiyama explained to her.

"Like the letters you exchanged with Yukino during those years?" Eriri Sawamura offered a simple analogy.

“Maybe similar? But the emotions are real, not fake. I believe that in the last days, Grandpa Ivan and Grandma Sasha really treated you like their granddaughter and hoped that you could come here to chat every day.” Nomiyama reached out and took her hand.

“I know, that’s why I’m sad about it.” Eriri Sawamura squeezed his hand back.

“They are so kind, but I am not their real granddaughter, and they are not my real grandparents.”

She exhaled a puff of white breath: "It's really sad. I didn't think about so many things at the time. I only came here occasionally with you. If I had known earlier, I would have come more often and talked to them more."

“They won’t blame you, because in their eyes, you have your own things to do,” Nomiyama said softly.

“But I didn’t actually have anything to do, I just didn’t pay attention to it.” Eriri Sawamura lowered her head.

Nomiyama patted her head: "They are good people, they will have a better next life, and they will be together again in the next life, I said."

Eriri Sawamura was quiet for a moment, then nodded earnestly, "Mmm!"

The three hundredth one, two terrible chess players.

“Kazehaya, how about we go to Yukino’s room? She’s still up the mountain, right?” Eriri Sawamura, with her hair tied in twin ponytails, suddenly suggested.

"No, we'll be killed by the Snow Demon." Nomiyama refused.

"No, Yukino won't do anything to me. She'll only blame you," Eriri Sawamura said confidently.

Nomiyama loosened her twin tails, looked down at the devilish Eriri in front of her, and sighed.

"As a wife, could you please think about your husband's feelings?"

"Aren't you a masochist who likes being chased and beaten by Yukino?" Eriri Sawamura was surprised. "From childhood to adulthood, I've seen your greatest interest in making Yukino angry."

Nomiyama looked up at the snowflakes falling again: "I don't like being blamed."

Eriri Sawamura rolled her eyes at him, who wasn't denying it but just changing the subject: "Aren't you curious? After Yukino went to university, she hid all her personal belongings in that room in the house, and she wouldn't even let me in. Aren't you curious about what she's collected?"

Nomiyama's eyes flickered.

Eriri Sawamura grinned and continued, "Don't you want to know just how much of your dark history Yukino has been hiding?"

"How many could there be? Aren't they just my letters?"

That's what he said, but he silently calculated the restrictions set up by Yukinoshita in his mind, found a way to sneak in without making a sound, and then put his hand on Eriri's shoulder.

Eriri Sawamura smiled even more happily.

The next moment, she stood in a room and whistled, "It's been a long time since I've been here."

Nomiyama walked towards the desk: "Just don't rummage through it."

Eriri Sawamura caught up with him, displeased: "You think you can just rummage through things like that?"

Nomiyama said confidently, "I wasn't rummaging around. I was just looking for our marriage certificate. We're husband and wife. What's wrong with a husband looking for each other's marriage certificate?"

Eriri Sawamura ignored him and instead turned to look around the room.

It was simpler than I had imagined. The bed had a thin quilt embroidered with a black cat, two Mr. Pan dolls, and a beautiful pure white fur coat.

There's a big cat bed in the corner of the room?

Eriri Sawamura's eye twitched. She really thought those pink mischievous cats were cats, but those things were bigger than her, could walk upright, could mine and grow vegetables, and would even cry when they were beaten. What did they really have to do with cats?

A coat hanger, two scarves—probably worn during the late spring cold snap—she would wear them whenever she had the chance...

"Wow, she actually still has this."

Nomiyama carefully pulled out the paper, somewhat surprised.

The slope is rendered in green, signifying grassland; the undulating river signifies flow; the half-blue background represents the sky; and three small figures stand on the slope in different poses.

The boy smiled as he cast his line, while the girl with long black hair watched him quietly from the side. The blonde girl stood beside him, working together to adjust the fishing rod.

It's just a simple, colorful cartoon, but the expressions and environment are depicted very well.

This is Eriri's drawing from when she was in the second grade of elementary school; it's an old item from many years ago.

Nomiyama looked at the person who had come closer and asked curiously, "When did you give it to her? How come I didn't know?"

Eriri Sawamura looked at the small painting, a memory flowing through her eyes: "It was the night Yukino decided to go to London. She came to me, and I gave her this painting."

As she remembered these things, she also remembered the other items, and her gaze drifted into the drawer.

Wooden box, hair clip, hairband.

With a sigh, Eriri Sawamura looked at him with a hint of reproach: "It's because you gave me the hairband that Yukino has never used my hairband."

Nomiyama carefully put the painting away in the drawer and then closed it: "Heh, just a nobody like Sawamura Eriri."

He bent down, letting Eriri pound his back, and pulled open the next drawer.

Photo album.

In other words, one's own faith.

He reached out, took out the photo album, moved the chair around, and sat down at the desk.

Eriri Sawamura sat naturally on his lap, nestled in his arms, and looked at the photo album: "The letter from Yukino that belongs to you?"

Nomiyama nodded: "Yes."

He flipped through the photo album quickly, as if he had no intention of reading it.

He stopped when the album was almost halfway full, his gaze falling on the inner compartments.

It's no longer a letter, but a photograph.

He looked at the familiar photos, slightly surprised.

The dress was a gift from him; it was autumn, and the girl was smiling under a sky full of red maple leaves.

During junior high school, I gave her several dresses, and then she went to have a photo album taken. I received one set, but I didn't expect that she had kept another set for me.

"So beautiful," Eriri Sawamura exclaimed.

"When isn't she pretty?" Nomiyama thought she was talking nonsense.

“I’m referring to these dresses; you’d better buy them for me too,” Eriri Sawamura said fiercely.

"Why do you need these outfits?" Nomiyama rubbed her head and offered a suggestion. "If you want dresses, I can design a few for you and then go to Usagiyama Street to find the tailor grandma to make them. There's no need to wear these outfits. I designed them based on her body measurements at the time."

"You can actually design clothes?" Eriri Sawamura exclaimed in surprise. "Aren't you a creative failure? A wild man unfavored by the Muses?"

Nomiyama raised an eyebrow: "Perhaps I have an unexpected passion for designing clothes for you? Passion breeds talent?"

Eriri Sawamura shifted her gaze in disgust: "What a twisted passion."

Please call this a deep infatuation with you.

"Please remove this perverted obsession."

"That's really going too far." Nomiyama finished admiring the autumn red maples and the girls under the sunlight and snow, and turned to the next page of the photo album.

The familiar letter paper, the opening with familiar handwriting and font.

Seeing this letter is like meeting you in person.

A cliché opening.

I met a guy these past couple of days.