"This is it."

In the light of evening, her glistening hair cascaded from her hands like a waterfall.

"People who have this dragon scale have been born to the Himekura family throughout the generations. They say the oracle who was the first Himekura had a mark on her forehead. And Grandpa has this same mark on his body, too."

When she dropped her hands, as if to shake it away, her hair hung in the air for an instant like mist before tumbling once more over her back.

Maki turned around and smiled aggressively.

"So you see, even without running any tests, they were forced to recognize me. After that, I underwent an education to make me more worthy of the Himekuras than anyone, and he even lined up my future husband, the favored son of a good family."

Her smile sought no sympathy or comfort whatsoever. In fact, it looked as if it would haughtily refuse any such thing.

Family, blood, bonds.

Maki was in a world that had no link to ours.

Irresistible ever since she was born, regardless of her will.

At school, Maki was known as a specialist in information; she had unquestioned liberties and was called the Princess, and it seemed as if nothing was beyond her power.

But maybe she wasn't living quite so freely.

Although Maki was the president of the orchestra and its conductor, she didn't ordinarily participate in club activities; instead she would paint alone in her workroom on the top floor of the music hall.

She had actually wanted to join the art club, but she had once told me, smiling even more cheerfully, that her grandfather had ordered her to join the orchestra.

That the workroom in the music hall was her price for that.

That it was the only place she could paint freely.

A lucid pang like a shard of glass stabbed into my heart, which had been clouded by anxiety.

Maki's expression became cold and stiff.

"If I had been born a hundred years earlier, I would probably have been a criminal everyone called an oracle and stuck in a mountain estate like Yuri Himekura."

I felt as if her words had frozen the air with a crack.

A criminal everyone called an oracle- What did that mean?

Actually, the man at the souvenir shop had said something that bothered me, too. That saying she was an oracle or recovering from an illness was just for appearances because she'd been driven out of her home...

Had there been some circumstance that kept Yuri Himekura from being with her family?

The air was chilly, and as the sun continued sinking, it dyed everything around us blood red. Seemingly in response to this, Maki's expression became charged with the diabolic, and it looked as if she were transforming into something not human.

Her red tongue flicked over the corners of her lips.

"No, maybe I'm more like Shirayuki than I am like Yuri. I would definitely have painted the house with blood and avenged myself on those who had confined me as soon as my wretched seal was broken. My body would be trembling with the joy of freedom. Just the thought of it gives me a thrill."

A dark passion glinted on her smiling lips and in the tenor of her voice.

Her curved lips were voluptuous, and in her eyes there was coldness and cruelty and a demonic joy.

A chill coursed down my spine at the image, exactly as if Shirayuki had inhabited her body.

I collected myself and said, "Last night, I read Kyka Izumi's Demon Pond. The one that was a memento of Akira's mother. The Shirayuki in that story is a ghoul, but because she misses her lover, and because she decided to stay in the pond for Yuri's sake, her rage explodes, so she has very cute and very human aspects, too. I think that if the villagers hadn't sacrificed Yuri, Shirayuki would have kept her promise and been the village's protector spirit, not a ghoul."

I had started talking passionately about the story, just like Tohko.

The diabolic cast faded from Maki's face and her look turned sad.

"...Demon Pond, huh? I've read it, too," she murmured as we walked slowly toward the crimson evening sun.

"I completely understand Shirayuki's restlessness since she's sealed in the pond, but I can't lose myself in a dream of love the way she did. If my body were to be broken or dismembered, my soul would never transform into a firefly's light and travel to the man I love.

"I'm not capable of love like Shirayuki, like the fireflies...like Hotaru."

I was surprised to hear Maki speak Amemiya's name.

Ah, so Maki saw a shadow of Amemiya in Shirayuki's violent love, just as I did.

But it was only natural.

It had only been a month since we'd watched her pass, after all.

Her funeral had been at a church in the rain.

Neither Tohko nor I had cried, but as we listened to the sound of the rain hitting our umbrellas, we'd shared a pang that continued to ache. I learned then that there is such a thing as sadness that doesn't let you cry.

Maki hadn't cried, either.

At least, not in front of us.

But I'd imagined that Maki, who'd been more deeply involved with Amemiya than we had been, had probably been much sadder than us.

Though she would probably never say so.

As if talking to herself, Maki spoke in spurts.

"I heard that the pond where Yuri drowned herself... In the summer, there are a lot of fireflies there, so I went to see one night.

"Because I wanted to see real fireflies...not artificial ones.

"But no matter how long I waited, not a single firefly appeared.

"I found out later that the fireflies come to this pond around June and July.

"By August...their life spans are up and they pass away...

"I waited five whole hours by the pond... I was pretty disappointed."

A firefly's life span is brief.

They flash briefly, then fade away like a flower, like the moon. Like the worlds of Kyka...

Maki turned her back to me and walked a little ahead, and the image of Demon Pond's Shirayuki overlaid itself on her.

The goblin princess, captive in her watery prison, thirsting for freedom so badly that she could scream; but her spirit had been soothed by Yuri's ephemeral singing, and she had watched over the woman's love.

"I envy the couple in this house; I covet what is theirs."

How had Maki felt, watching over Amemiya as she died for love?

Had she felt envious of Amemiya, who loved unwaveringly-something she was incapable of doing?

Had Maki, too, found comfort in Amemiya's existence as Shirayuki had in Yuri?

The air grew cooler and cooler.

Maki muttered irritably, "At any rate, I can't live only for love like Hotaru did, and I can't just brush it off like Ryuto Sakurai, either. I can only be myself."

As if shaking off an injury, she came to a stop and turned around.

The burning sunset illuminated her harsh, brooding expression.

"Let me ask you something, Konoha. Shirayuki was bound by a promise, but don't you think promises are made to be broken?"

I couldn't answer.

I was sucked into Maki's look, her voice, which were exactly those of Shirayuki. My spine was tingling and I had goose bumps.

Maki smiled faintly and started walking again.

I followed beside her.

My heart wouldn't stop fluttering.

What was a promise? If Maki was Shirayuki, was the thing that bound her her Himekura blood? In which case, what was Maki's goal?

Could it be that, like the Shirayuki in Demon Pond, Maki was trying to topple the temple bell?

Was she trying to crush the flowers, break apart the moon, and summon a frenzy of rage?

Cold terror crept once more up my spine.

If so, this was dangerous.

Because there no longer existed a Hotaru/Yuri to contain her behavior.

When she talks about her family, she always has a warm, indulgent look on her face.

Her eyes grow distant, as if her mind is going back to the days of contentment that she's lost, and they're a little sad...

She loves and respects her illustrious father with all her heart, and she's proud of their connection. She prays at all times to be a daughter worthy of such a remarkable man.

She cared for her kind and generous mother, as well, like a little girl. "I take after my mother," she told me happily, her face shining.

She cared for her father and her mother, couldn't help caring for them, and truly wished she could see them, wanted them to speak to her in their kind voices, wanted them to hold her, wanted to be spoiled, more than she could bear.

But her wish would not come true...

And so she was, in fact, always sad.

"Augh!"

The instant I opened the front door, I reeled back.

Her cheeks puffed out ridiculously in a pout, squatting on the ground with her knees up and her back pressed up against the wall, Tohko was flipping through the pages of an old book.

Maki's eyes widened as well.

"Why are you reading in a place like this?!"

No wonder the butler hadn't come out to meet us despite Maki, the master of the house, returning. It was because Tohko was planted here in the doorway like a sentinel.

Only Tohko's face moved to glare intently up at us through her lashes, sulkily.

"I can read wherever I want to."

Then she turned pointedly back to her book.

"But won't your butt start to hurt there?"

"You don't need to worry about my butt, thank you, Konoha."

"But it must be cold sitting on the floor like that."

"As luck would have it, it's all warmed up and toasty now."

Maki burst out laughing.

Tohko whipped her head up.

"Wh-what's so funny?!"

"Oh, wow, it's so soothing to see you reacting so meekly. I'm glad I took Konoha out. It really cheered me up."