When Fall Comes, Winter can’t be far Behind

1

Four vertical strokes, then one horizontal slash to skewer them through. When the adamantite sword carved the marking into the tree trunk, it became the proof of five days’ passage.
Cleo scratched in the fourteenth line. Two weeks had finally passed from the grafting. Gazing overly hopefully at the small stems poking their heads out of the ground,

“Is it almost there? Hey, is it almost there?”

Roselyne asked as if speaking to the rosebuds themselves. After swiftly stowing the sword in his bag,

“Well let’s see. It—might be soon.”

With an ambiguous answer, ahaha, he laughed. Ever since the grafting, her anticipation would grow day by day, bringing even greater mental pressure to Cleo. But today, there was something that bothered him more than that.
When he looked to the sky, he saw the dull patterns of clouds. On the verge of bursting to tears. An anxiety spread along Cleo’s heart.

“… Looks like it’s going to rain.”
“Eh? Yeah, let’s see.”

In those past two weeks, it hadn’t rained once. Taking the season, the climate of the region into consideration, one might call it a rare spur of good luck. But luck isn’t something that carries on forever.

“Mn… hmm, is that so,” Roselyne said, “It’s probably going to rain within the day.”
“Huh? Was that, umm… that person in your head?”
“Yeah. So you see, she says the wind carries just a bit of the scent of the ocean. On a day like this, it’s easy for rain to fall. If it rains, you think the blue roses open their buds in delight?”

At that infantile marchen-esque notion, the slackening of Cleo’s cheeks was inevitable. But now wasn’t a time to pass with such heartwarming feelings. If it really did rain, then…

Drip.

At first he suspected it must be some sort of mistake. A modest lone drop. At the sensation of something hitting against the back of his hand, huh? He thought, as the next instant was occupied with the sound of raindrops tapping against plants and soil.

“Wow, look Cleo, it really is falling!”

Not knowing the danger, Roselyne made merry, practically cheering it on. However,
(… This is terrible…!)
Cleo thought, hurriedly canopying his body over the grafted clue roses, guarding them from the raindrops. It was doubtful he could keep up that posture all the way until the rain stopped. He thought over what he would do.

“… What are you doing, Cleo?”
“As I recall… until they’re firmly joined, you have to keep the scion from getting wet. I can only hope this lets up soon.”

But the pouring rain only grew stronger. That good sun exposure of the site backfired on them today. Near the edge of the cliff, with no tree nearby, there was nothing to interrupt the water droplets streaming in diagonally.
(An umbrella… something to use as an umbrella…)
There was no such thing. The past two weeks as he accompanied Roselyne’s hunting, he had searched out an item he could use as a substitute, but in the end, he couldn’t spot anything usable.
(When there’s only a little to go before the flowers might bloom… is this the end…?)
He firmly bit his lip.
There, the rain came t o a sudden stop. It had yet to let up. Only around Cleo, the rain had disappeared. Widening his eyes and raising his face, Cleo looked up to see a clump of leaves forming a dome above him. Roselyne’s vines had snapped and plucked the nearby thicket and undergrowth to make a leaf roof.

“How about that? Good idea, right?”

Roselyne swelled her nostrils in a triumphant smile.

Around thirty minutes passed, the rain continued coming down.
It was a cold rain. Cleo also broke off a leafy branch and tried using it as an umbrella, but no matter how he held it, his left or his right, one of his shoulders would be soaked. Not like this, not like that, as he changed his grip, eventually, the water came down the leaves and the limbs, wetting Cleo from his hand to his elbows. This was no consolation.
Furthermore, a rustling sound. A gust of wind shook the leaves, the pooled water scattered and poured down on Cleo’s head. Nay, it was the opposite of consolation. Cleo tossed the branch aside.
(Still, it’s cold…!)
The rain and wind were stealing away his body’s heat, he understood it detestably well.
(What am I even doing here…)
To be blunt, there was nothing Cleo could d o at the moment to protect the grafted roses. If anything, he could do little more than keep Roselyne company as she perpetually supported up the roof of leaves with her vines.
(Is that the only reason I have to stay out here…?)
But that being the case, it pained his heart to leave Roselyne there on her own while he alone returned to his sleeping tree to stave off the elements. No matter, if he continued to be drenched by the rain… Cleo’s conflict and distress continued.
With another tremble of the forest, the wind blew again.
Contrary to his indecisive nature, his body reacted honestly.

“… Achoo! Aaachoo!”
“!?”

Roselyne’s shoulders pricked up. The dome raised the sound of rubbing leaves as it shook.

“You surprised me. Could it be that was… a sneeze?”
“Ah, y-yes. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, then, don’t tell me, you’re cold?”
“… Yes.” He felt he had prolonged the revelation in a roundabout way. Cleo awkwardly gave a wry smile. “Today’s rain is cold.”

With a few blinks of the eye, Roselyne tilted her head. And once more, she tilted it in the opposite direction and muttered.

“It is?”
“Huh… you don’t think so?”
“Yeah. Not really for me. Well, let’s see, I don’t think it’s warm… around normal?”
“I-is that so…”

It did seem her sense for temperature was far tougher than a human’s.
(Come to think of it, she was stark naked when I first saw her. If this made her cold, she wouldn’t be able to live here.)

But Cleo was a feeble civilized man. His damp shirt stuck to his back, he learned a chill that made him shiver. He perked his shoulders and shook. Looking over that perplexedly,

“Hey, if the rain is so cold then, this… umm, rain coat, was it? Should I return it to you? I’m perfectly fine if I get wet.” Roselyne said. For a moment, he thought it a captivating proposal. Yet that would render her naked. Who in their right mind would go as far as to strip a girl of her clothing to take refuge from the rain? Before being a gentleman, it was too much a disgrace for a man.

“Thank you I appreciate the sentiment, but I can’t reala- a- achoo! Achoo!”

When he tried to politely decline, the sneezes got in the way.
Stressing to understand, Roselyne furrowed her brow.

“You don’t want the raincoat? Mnn, in that case, you should return to the tree at our place. I’ll protect the blue roses.”
“I’m sorry… I’ll have to take you up on that.”
“Yeah, don’t worry. Leave it to me.”

From Roselyne’s point of view, everything to that point had been left to Cleo, and she hadn’t contributed in the slightest towards making the blue roses bloom; she would happily volunteer for the role of an umbrella.
Cleo couldn’t notice how she felt. Dragging along dark regret, he walked towards the large tree he used as a bed. Turning along the way, he gazed at the girl protecting the roses, alone in the rain. A sense of guilt throbbed in his chest.

2

Returning to the large tree, Cleo passed through the crevice to enter the hollow cavity, pulling off his boots, and standing them up upside-down. His sopping wet clothes as well, he pulled it all off until he was left in a single pair of undergarments. HE wrung out his handkerchief time and again as he wiped down his body, hurriedly plunging into his sleeping back. The wet clothing was left hanging on a semple drying rack made of tangled branches.
When he lay and closed his eyes, the image of Roselyne from before floated on the back of his eyelids. A renewed guilt leaked a languid sigh.
(Good grief… when will this rain let up?)
He got the feeling the rain sounds unempathetically grew stronger.
(Even so, it suddenly grew cooler the day before last. Looks like we were in a heat wave right before that.)
What month, what day was it? Cleo could no longer tell, but it was presumably the end of the ninth month, or the start of the tenth. Meaning summer was already over. No wonder it was cool.
(I’m thankful to be free of nights too sultry to sleep… but I need to watch carefully for the season to change.)
It was hard to say his sleeping spot was hygienic. A slanted diet of nothing but fruit.
Days of wandering the forest with Roselyne, spending his stamina until he was ragged every day.
There w ere plenty of factors to break his body. No, considering what he’d been through, it was an environment that made it bizarre he hadn’t collapsed from a fever long ago. A mystery as to why he was safe to this day. He even found it uncanny.
(What happened to my body? Was there some sudden change? Or is this that power of nature I hear about?)
Grrrr.
His stomach suddenly growled. It was around time for lunch. A healthy apetite truly was the symbol of good health, but he had nothing to eat, so reaching a hand to his canteen, he distacted his hunger with water.
(If my body really has become sturdier, then there’s nothing I’d be happier about, but…)
But.
(I might’ve overdone it a bit. Twenty minutes? Thirty? If you’re in the rain so long, you don’t have to be me to catch a cold, generally s peaking.)
And if he did catch a cold here, with no doctors or medicine… a chill ran down his spine, and Cleo pulled the sleeping bag up over his head.
Without anything to do, he lounged around with time simply passing him by.
(… I’m hungry…)
The rain failed to show the slightest signs of stopping.
(I’m sure Roselyne’s still in the same position, doing her best…)
Even if it wasn’t a passing drizzle, a little more, and the rain should at least weaken. When that happened, he could go search for fruit. He could bring some back for Roselyne as well. Lately, Cleo had gotten around to climbing trees just a little bit.
(If I get some… then I’m sure… Roselyne will be happy too…)

His head dazing out in hunger, Cleo was dozing off unaware.
His consciousness teetered between the threshold of on and off.
The rhythm of the rain he could hear from outside comfortably seeped into his resting ears—

[IMAGE]

3

The rain carried on throughout the whole day.

4

The rain water collects on the leaves and branches; it forms pools near the tips of the leaves, waiting intently for the moment it spills out. Faint moisture indiscernible to the eye gathers, little by little, as the surface tension binding the leaf and the droplet finally greet its limit. The moment the drop parts, the leaf lightly springs up.
Plip–
On the ground, the drop bursts like a small firework.
As if that was the signal, Roselyne took a large stretch.
Before daybreak. The eastern sky already shone in a faint white.
The rain had let up only a moment ago. A splashing sound came from above. It was surely the water pooled on the flower growing from Roselyne’s head. When she tilted down her upper body as if taking a deep bow, it slowly drained out. She made a bowl with her two hands to accept it, drink it, and wash her face. It was a crisp wake-up.
She carefully removed the dome of leaves.
The ground around was still damp, and there were a number of puddles around. But nary a drop had fallen on the grafted roses. As if here alone, a hole had opened in the clouds, the ground wasn’t wet at all.
Roselyne gave a triumphant grin. Ukukuh, she laughed.
Tossing the bundle of branches that had finished their purpose aside, she restlessly looked around.

“Cleo is… is he still asleep?”

It was almost sunrise. She decided to get him, a hum on her breath.

“The Cait Sidhe wiiith the speeectacles—♪.”

Roselyne was in a good mood.
She repeated it thrice, and when the song was about to end the fourth time, she had reached the large tree where Cleo slept and woke. As a continuation of her hum, she called out in a loud voice.

“Cleeeooo, it’s morning!”

She bent over, peering into the depths of the crevice. While the inside was dim, she managed to confirm Cleo was there.

“Look, the rain is over! The blue roses didn’t get wet at aaaalll!”
Ukukukukuh!

… Silence.

“Hey, Cleoo.”

But no response. A wee crease greeted her brow.

“Wake up already. Mr. Sun is going to come out.”

Extending her bine, she tapped against Cleo’s face as he lay in the crevice.

“Mn?”

Feeling a queer unease, she stuck the vine onto his forehead.

“… Whoa, it’s hot! What is this?”

There, perhaps roused by Roselyne’s boisterous voice—or perhaps having opened his eyes long ago—the sleeping bag wriggled and the fastner sluggishly fell.

“… Goo…”

No different than a zombie revived from its grave, Cleo slowly lifted his torso. And,

“… Gwwd morning… Rose…”

Hac hic hoc!
His body swayed up and down in his coughs.
Roselyne ended up momentarily dazed.

“Wha… what’s wrong, Cleo? What happened to your voice?”

After a few pained gasps, Cleo finally said this in a thin voice.

“I-it wooks wike… I cut a gold…”

Cough, cough!

“Cold…? Wait, what? What does that mean?”

Roselyne grew increasingly confused, before Insteen whod remained silent to that point informed her.

‘Don’t you think he might be sick?’

Cleo’s torso was so unsteady it might fall at any moment. His eyes were hollow.
Roselyne turned her head like an owl.

“Sick? What’s that?”
‘You don’t remember? Oh well, it was a long time ago, when you were so small that you got sick.’
“… I don’t remember that at all. So what does sick mean?”
‘To put it simply, it means his body is in a bad state. It can make you sluggish, make you heat up… when you touched him, his forehead was hot, right? Well, I don’t know too much about human sickness, but from what I can see, he’s in quite a bit of pain, right?’
“Eh? It hurts? Cleo, hey, does it hurt?”

Cleo’s body hung as loosely as ever.
His head fell forward in a nod. Should she take it as a yes? Roselyne understood it so.

“So that’s how it is. Then wait a second.”

Retrieving the canteen littered near the sleeping bag with a vine, she dexterously removed the cap, and tilted it over Cleo’s head. Just when the mouth was about to spill water,

‘Wait, wait, what are you trying to do?’

The canteen jerked to a stop, one or two drops splashed out and curst over Cleo’s head.

“Eh? I mean, it hurts because it’s so hot, right? So if I cool him down…”
‘You can’t. That’ll just make his sickness worse.’
“It will? Then what do I do to make him not-sick?”
‘I don’t know how humans cure their sickness. But… right, have him take in nutrients and sleep soundly. That sounds best.’

Grrrrrrrr.
Roselyne’s stomach suddenly sounded. While she was protecting the blue roses, she hadn’t e aten anything.

“Nutrients… you’re talking a bout foot. I’m also hungry. Wait right there, Cleo. I’ll go get you some fruit.”

No longer with the drive to speak, even so, Cleo put in as much effort as he could muster, powerlessly waving his dubiously raised hand. ‘Have fun.’
Roselyne smiled.

“Yeah. I’ll be back soon.”

She gallantly went on the hunt.

5

But she couldn’t honor her promise to return soon.
Gathering enough fruits to fill both hands, the moment she knew it was time to go back. In the upper canopy of a large tree she happened to see, she saw that a single yellow fruit remained on its own. Roselyne reached out a vine.
When there was just a little more to go, a hairy hand appeared from the shadow of the foliage. A monkey.
The monkey plucked the fruit, crossing from branch to branch like an acrobat as it moved through the trees.

“Hey… w-wait! I saw it first!!”

Roselyne gave chase. She chased as she launched attacks with her vines. She couldn’t’ even touch the nimbly dodging monkey. That was why Roselyne could never catch a monkey
Even so, she wouldn’t give up. She persistently followed wherever it went. There, luck took Roselyne’s side. The monkey’s foot slipped on top of a branch, making it drop its fruit. Her vine splendidly caught it in the air.
The monkey raised an irritated cry as it fled. With the snatched-back fruit finally in her hands, Roselyne made a congenial smile. Cleo definitely said the yellow fruit was the one he liked best. That’s why she did whatever was in her power to obtain it. For Cleo’s—

“……… aAh!”

Hurriedly turning, she took off in a mad dash. By the time she finally returned to the tree, close to two hours had gone by since she left.
Spending just a bit of time collecting her breath, Roselyne stood out before it.

“Cleo, I’m sorry, you’re hungry, right? I really am sorry. But look at this. It’s the yellow fruit. I went through a lot to get it. This monkey, you see–”

Roselyne peered into the crevice. As he had been that morning, Cleo lay with the sleeping bag wrapped around his whole body.

“Cleo, are you sleeping?”

No response returned. But she could sense he was probably awake.

“Hey… could it be you’re… angry…?”
“………”

Paranoia brewed.
The silence of rejection filled the hollow. That was the feeling she got.

“H… here you go, the yellow fruit. It’s the one you like best, right?”

Forcing out a cheerful voice, she swiftly presented the fruit out before Cleo’s face. Still Cleo idn’t answer, or even try to move.
The fruit fruitlessly waved in the air.

“… Cleo… I’m talking to you…… why won’t you say anything…?”

In the young girl’s heart, complex emotions she had never experienced before were forming. Without understanding what they might be, the corners of her eyes finally—and it was then.
Insteen spoke.

‘Hey, by any chance, is he on the verge of death?’
“… Eh…… eEH?”
‘Pull him out a bit. Quit dawdling, hurry up.’
“Y… yeah…” Roselyne was terribly surprised by Insteen’s words, but she had learned over many years that these states of emergency were the times to obediently obey her. Wrapping a number of vines around his body, like a mother cradling her child, she gently lifted him up, and pulled him out.

“… Cle… o…?”

Pulling him close, she peered into his face.
Even so, Cleo didn’t respond. No, he couldn’t.
Hah, hah, a disorderly breath. An expression warped in pain. From time to time, his eyelids would faintly open, but the eyes behind them weren’t focusing on anywhere. He didn’t seem to notice Roselyne’s face a mere thirty centimeters from his eyes.
Even Roselyne could comprehend the severity of the situation.

“Cleo, Cleo, are you okay? Hey, what should I do? Are you going to die, Cleo?”
‘Calm down, it’s too soon to make the call.’

But… if you leave him like this, it’ll be considerably dangerous, Insteen muttered in her inside voice so Roselyne couldn’t hear. For the time being, she just told her what she needed to do.

‘For now, have him eat the fruit you got for him. You can’t overcome sickness without strength.’
“Y-yeah, got it! Cleo… now, here it comes, open your mouth…”

She pushed what was presumably a form of pear against Cleo’s mouth. That mouth only leaked a rough breath and slight groan, without any attempt to bite into the fruit.

“… Hey, he’s not eating it!”
‘So he doesn’t have the strength to move his mouth? Or perhaps his head is hazy from fever, and he hasn’t noticed the fruit… this is troublesome.’
“What… what do I do?”
‘Right… then you chew it for him.’
“My? I chew it and… I’m going to eat it?”
‘Fool. Once you chew it and make it easier to eat, you’ll force it into his mouth. Whatever the case, as long as you can get it in his mouth, he might swallow.’
“Ah, I see… I-I’ll try.”

Crunch.
Biting into the fruit, she raised a crinkling sound as she chewed it to shreds. Once a juicy sweetness spread across her mouth, Roselyne felt she might carelessly swallow it down.

“… Uuung!”
‘What’s wrong?’

It’s nothing—she shook her head, opening and affixing Cleo’s mouth.
Now then, how was she supposed to insert it into his mout? She thought for a moment, but in the end decided to go with the most reliable method. Roselyne overlapped her lips with Cleo’s open mouth.
Mnn…
With a muddled voice, she streamed in the fruit.
In order to force it all in, , she pushed even her tongue into Cleo’s oral cavity. The fruit flesh that had mostly turned to paste mixed with Roselyne’s saliva, collecting in his mouth.
Nnnn…
Even after she had made sure it was all in, she kept her mouth locked to make sure he didn’t spit it out. Cleo’s small Adam’s apple moved in a gulp.
Once she lifted her lips, for a moment, a glimmering thread connected the two, reluctant to let them part.

‘Looks like it worked. If he has enough strength left to eat, I’m sure he’ll make it. Now keep at it.’
“Yeah!”
Once he had taken in around one and a third fruits through repeated mouth to mouth, Cleo drifted to sleep as if losing consciousness.

6

From the time Cleo fell asleep, Roselyne remained before the large tree.
Around when the sky began to darken with clouds, when she had grasped a small twig to imitate Cleo and draw a shoddy picture on the ground, she heard a groan from the crevice inside the tree.
Had Cleo awakened? Or was he having a fevered nightmare? At that miserable, pained, fleeting voice, Roselyne’s anxiety flared, and finally unable to endure it any longer, she pulled him out again.

“Aer you okay? Cleo, does it hurt?”

No response. She w as hard pressed to judge whether he was up or not.

“Cleo…?”

When she peered into his face and spoke, Cleo’s eyes slowly opened, directed at her.

“Ah, you’re awake. Cleo, are you hungry? Do you want some more fruit?”
“……”

Silently, Cleo looked at Roselyne a while before saying this.

“… Mo… ther…”
“Huh? W-what?”

A hazy look from Cleo. Those eyes seemed to be looking at Roselyne yet looking at something else. The inside of the sleeping bag restlessly squirmed. When she sensed Cleo’s will and undid the fastener, a hand reached out from within to grasp the young girl’s wrist like a mouth snapping at it.

“Wah! W-what’s wrong, Cleo?”
“…… K… uu……”
“Eh? What? One m ore time?”

Hah, hah, zeh, zeh, in the gaps between his disordered wheezes, he stuck in his words. Roselyne concentrated every nerve in her body to pick them up.
… I… don’t want… to study… anymore……

“… Study? Huh?”

Cleo’s hand that grasped Roselyne’s wrist was terribly weak, yet the desperate feelings embedded in it got across painfully clearly. Roselyne lay her hands over his, gently gripping it.

“Mother, and study, I don’t really get it, but… if you don’t want to do it, then you don’t have to, do you…?”
“… Really…?” A little light returned to his empty eyes. “It’s… okay for me to paint…?”
“Yeah. Paint your pictures. I love your pictures, Cleo.”
So hurry up and get better. When Roselyne said that, the hand grasping her wrist slipped off.
As if set free from his distress—Cleo gave a pleasant smile.
In a fine voice that might dissolve into the air the moment it left his mouth,
… Thank you…
He said. His hand gently fell. He closed his eyelids and fell asleep.
Roselyne gently whipped off his forehead dotted with spheres of sweat with the palm of her hand.
She felt his fever had gone down just a bit since that morning.

7

Around evening, she mouth-fed him fruits again.
Roselyne wasn’t going to sleep a wink—or so she intended. She vaguely recalled her head limply nodding up and down, and some point after that, she had drifted asleep. She awoke taken aback. The bright light of the moon quietly illuminated her body. It did seem there was a long way to go ‘til daybreak.
Quetly creeping up, she peered into the crevice. Cleo was asleep, with a calm sleeping face.
She reached a vine f rom the hem of her raincoat, timidly touching it to his forehead.

“… It’s not hot…!”
‘Looks like he’s gotten considerably better.’
“… Really? Cleo’s not going to die?”
‘I won’t speak in absolutes. I won’t, but… I’m sure he’s fine.’
“Fine?”
‘Probably.’

Roselyne leaked a long, long sigh of relief.

That’s good…“

And the moment she felt relieved, her hunger assailed her. She retrieved one of the remaining fruits and bit into it heartily. The flesh had lost its crunch, somewhat, but it was tasty enough.
In the crevice, Cleo raised a tranquil sleeper’s breath. When Roselyne’s vine poked at his left cheek,

“Hhhmm…” He slipped some miner babble as he turned his face away.

Ukukukufuh.
Narrowing her eyes, Roselyne smiled a tender smile; and yet, those eyes suddenly changed to wear the colors to gloom.

“Hey, Insteen. Why did Cleo get sick?”
‘Who knows? I couldn’t’ say. But don’t you think it’s because he got soaked in the rain?’
“Rain? If it’s rain you want, I got a lot more of it on me.”
‘It’s different with humans.’
“I… see.”

She could grow countless vines from her own body. They let her grab distant items, and let her hold a lot of things all at once. They were very convenient. But now, seeing her own shadow projected by the moon, Roselyne thought this—It was almost as if snakes were sprouting from her body.
Her lonesome eyes stared at Cleo’s sleeping form. If he didn’t wrap himself in that, he said it would be too cold to sleep. Her lips quietly moved.

“Cleo is, humans are… quite feeble lifeforms aren’t they.”

It was fall. Winter was soon to come. Enough snow would fall to paint the forest in a layer of white. She would no longer be able to find the fruits- Cleo’s sole source of food- so easily anymore.
Winter- the harshest season of all- where a harsh struggle for survival unfolded among all forms of life, where only those who could endure the cold and the hunger earned the right to greet spring.
Surely, it would be impossible for Cleo.

‘I’m sure I said it before, but he has not the power to live in this forest. He somehow made it out this time, but…’

Insteen didn’t say the words that followed. Roselyne didn’t want to hear them.

“Yeah… you’re right. I know.”

She softly muttered.
Roselyne, staring at Cleo’s sleeping face. Her gaze changed to one of resolve.

8

Night opened to dawn.
While cool autumn days had continued over the past few days, the morning was neither too hot nor too cool. The wind that blew at times was comfortable, making for a clear autumn morning to spend at leisure. His cheek stroked by the wind blowing in from the crevice in the tree, Cleo faintly moved his eyelids, slowly opening them.
Now awake, Cleo noticed the change in his constitution.
(I’m… not cold. My head is clear. And…)

A sudden hunger struck him the moment he recalled it. His throat was parched as well.

“Canteen, canteen… there it is.”

He gulped water down his throat. It was a little tepid, but more than enough to quench his thirst.
Gr… grrrrrr.
had the water started up his vital functions? His stomach sounded loudly enough to surprise even himself. Then from outside the slit, Roselyne abruptly popped her face in.

“Cleo, you’re up! Are you feeling okay? Are you?”
“Ah… good morning. It looks like I’ve completely gotten over my cold.”
“Really? Oh, your voice is back to normal. You were croaking like a frog yesterday, you should’ve heard yourself.”
“Oh, well, let’s see. Now that you mention it, the pain in my throat’s gone as well. How should I put this, I feel nice and refreshed.”

It was a befuddling feeling. When he was in such pain just the day before, his fever was surely astronomical, had he really recovered in only a single d ay?
(Normally, I’d be injected, given bitter medicine, and even so, I wouldn’t be able to get up for two to three beds. But now, just by sleeping?)
It was hard to believe. But as a matter of fact, his constitution was rather fantastic.
(What happened? Did something go on while I was asleep?)
Cleo got up and looked at Roselyne’s face. She returned him a delightful, full face grin.
Slipping out of the sleeping bag—right, he was in a pair of underpants—he put on his clothes, hastily tying the threads of his boots, before stumbling out of the crevice. He got the feeling it had been quite some time since he walked on his feet. For a moment, he stumbled.

“Ah, are you okay? Need to sleep some more?”

Roselyne’s hand quickly moved to make sure Cleo didn’t collapse, but Cleo barely managed to catch himself.

“I-I’m fine.”
“Really? If you really are fine, there’s something I want t o show you, but… can you walk? Ah, or do you want me to carry you?”
“Ca.. carry…?”

In Cleo’s head the image surfaced of his pitiful self being cradled like a baby.

“I-I-I’m perfectly fine! I can walk!”
“You can? Then let’s go.”
“Very well. Um, but before that–”
“Mn? What’s up?”
“Do you have anything to eat, and fruit?”

Back there, his leg had stumbled from hunger.

9

He wondered where he was being taken, only to find himself a t the usual ‘Cliff with Pretty Sunrise’. Cleo casually tossed aside the pith of the fruit he had finished eating. At first he had an aversion to tossing his food scraps out like that, but after imitating Roselyne, he had grown used to it by now.

“Roselyne, you wanted to show me something… what could it be?”
“You can’t tell?” Roselyne spoke with a mischievous laugh. “Look over there.”

The place that she pointed—the roses in question.

“Eh…?”

Cleo’s chest throbbed and soared.
If the thing she wanted to show was the roses, that meant,

“Don’t tell me…!”

Roselyne silently smiled. Cleo already found himself bounding off. He approached, he saw. Of the three grafted roses, two of the sprouts had grown ever-so-slightly.

“I noticed after I saw Mr. Sun not too long ago. Hey, that means it’s good, right? The blue flowers will bloom, right?” Following behind, Roselyne posed the question to his back.
“Y… yes. The grafting was a success. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but eventually, surely, it will bloom.”

His knees shook, his heart pounded out. It was the first time in his life he learned that his feelings could soar so high in delight. Roselyne seemed pleased as well.

“Hey, is there really no way of telling when it will bloom? You think it’ll take another week?”
“A-a week, is it? That’s… probably going to be difficult…”
“Then two?”
“Y-yeaah… I wonder.”
“I see…” her expression suddenly clouded, as if to say it was pointless if it didn’t bloom in two weeks. Cleo hesitated, but there was nothing he could do about it.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make flowers bloom faster…”

Like his elation had been dashed with water, Cleo sullenly hung his head

“Ah… that’s not it, I’m sorry. It not your fault, Cleo, and I wasn’t complaining… I just wanted to see the blue roses one more time with you. That’s why…”
“Eh…… oh, I, I see. A, haha…”

Cleo pat his chest in relief. But that chest had taken off once more in a difference sense than before. I want to see the roses bloom with you, that was practically the verbiage exchanged by lovers, was it not? His sickness-overcome face grew visibly red.

“I……”

After a moment’s indecision and conflict, he muttered.

“I also want to see the blue roses bloom.”

And with a voice like the croak of a frog, he added on.

“…… With you, Roselyne.”

Right after he said it, two contradictory feelings welled up in complete unison. Regret and achievement. Those conflicting mentalities eventually mixed into muddled chaos, with Cleo losing sight of what was what—and ceasing his thoughts in the process.
To hide his face that was surely seething a shade of red, he kept his head hung. From behind, he could feel her keen eyes.
And Roselyne spoke.

“…… Thank you, Cleo…”

Something touched, snuggling up to his body.
It was Roselyne’s soft hand.

“……!”

Cleo’s mouth opened and closed in silence; while he grew curious about the sensation on his back, he wasn’t able to think anything in his head. Eventually, she was the one to speak up first.

“Umm… hey, Cleo, you’ve done lots and lots, all sorts of things for me… but I have one more request…”
“… Eh…?” Upon hearing of a request, he had no choice but to turn. “Err… what could it be? If it’s something I’m capable of, then sure, whatever you want.”
“Um, you see… I want you to paint a Cleo painting.”
“A painting, is it? I don’t mind at all… what do you want me to paint?”

Cleo shook her head a no.

“That’s not it… I want you to paint Cleo.”
“Oh, me…? So you want… my face?”
“Yeah.”

With a nod, Roselyne quietly smiled.