"Do you have someone you like?"

"Hm…? I like lots of people. Like you. You're my best friend, after all."

Her face starts to flush a little. "No, I mean...the other kind of like."

The boy's cheeks also begin to redden into a pale rose shade. "Um...I dunno. Mama says only big people do. Maybe I will when I'm a big kid." He pauses.

"Why do you want to know?"

Slightly embarrassed, her purple eyes are quick to flicker away from his questioning gaze.

"No reason."

I indulge myself in the gentle breeze flowing past as we tread the footpath towards the village – not our own, of course, we're far from there – our route embossed into the thickness beneath us. No sooner than later would our tracks be hidden once again by the raining snow, a short journey long forgotten, unlike the events that have occurred in the past few days.

Now is just as good a time to pause our climbing journey. Not for long, of course; time will race past us if we linger for even a second too long, and we're yet to retrieve our entire harvest. The bare scraps we'd managed to just grasp a few mountains ago won't last long for the village. We need to hurry.

Nana sighs deeply, suddenly halting in her tracks.

"I never thought I'd end up back here again."

I turn round to face her, noticing her apprehensively staring down at the white ground, her hands clenched the way they always are when she's worried. Distressed. Nervous. Uneasy.

Scared.

She has good reason to be, too, at least from what she's told me. We both know well enough that Hachigo isn't the most welcoming of places to our kind. 'Snowbats', Nana says they call us, or will do so if they do find out about the things we can do. I feel my stomach seem to turn inside out as I imagine it in my head: the screeches of 'witch! Demons! Monsters!' and everything else horrible. Stones and all the rest of it that you hear about.

Yet, that's nothing compared to what Nana could have possibly gone through in the few years her family had resided in Hachigo. I know little of it, having never experienced that kind of prejudice myself; I shudder to think about her suffering accounts. Seven years of torment and torture she'd managed to survive, living with distasteful stares and foul words spat at her here, there, everywhere, because they must have known about it, the blessed curse that divided her family from their normal, mundane society.

"Your mother's buried here though, right…? This could be an opportunity to-"

"What's the point of that? You really think they'd have left her gravestone untouched after all this time?" she snaps, heavily scowling at me for just a second. Her face abruptly contorts into one of disbelief, guilt- and her angrily crinkled eyebrows immediately soften into her apologetic expression now crossing her visage. Quickly cupping her hands over her mouth, she adds (scarcely audibly) "Sorry."

I shake my head in response. "I shouldn't have mentioned it. It was my fault."

Nana unexpectedly grabs me by my shoulders, turning me towards her so that I'm directly facing her, meeting her gleaming iris-violet orbs accompanied by her pouty frown, one more of annoyance than of disappointment.

"If I took a shot of Nitopi every time I've heard you say that, I'd be dead by now." She tightens her clutch. "Stop saying everything's your fault."

It doesn't take long for me to notice the double meaning she's lumped into that very statement – I feel the urge to push her away and shove past her begin to fill me once again, but not yet to the brim, so I settle for a simple aversion of her gaze. But no matter how hard I try to focus on the not-particularly-fascinating shrub of snowdrops off the path, she only holds on tighter, her fierce aura refusing to dissipate as she stares daggers.

Finally, she relaxes her grip, also gazing off to the side as we stand rooted to the ground, neither of us uttering a single word. The fact that she's still adamant on lecturing me on that is nearly as irritating as the litters of Topis that we've faced: constantly freezing up cove passages, hurling icicles directly at us, never actually disappearing…

She exhales tiredly, forcing a faint smile. "Let's not worry about the villagers too much. It's not like they'll be able to tell off the bat that we have the magic, right?" Nana pauses. "Pun not intended." Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she quickly spins on her heel, starting to continue on as if that short moment had never happened.

I hate how tense I grow whenever petty spats like this happen between us. It's rare enough for us to even fight in the first place, and in the event that we do – unfortunately, very much like our current predicament – often we find it simple enough to merely give one another a nod of approval, short apologies that say more than enough, then there we are, back climbing the mountain once more. This climb, however, isn't going to be a breeze as gentle as the wind swooping past. It never was in the first place.

So if I'm so used to this, why do the ropes around my waist feel so tight?

The snow crunching beneath our feet sounds heavier than it should. Each step we take further into the grounds of Hachigo leaves me feeling even more dubious, as the wet sludge I'm dragging myself through tugs at me, trapping me in this picturesque hell.

Hachigo itself is a breathtakingly scenic landscape, though it's significantly smaller in size in comparison to Yukino. If it weren't for the fear instilled in me the moment I set foot here, I'd be more than happy to spend longer time here. That thought soon becomes a brief daydream, the scenes playing through like a puppet show as I envision what could be – ambling hand in hand alongside Nana, listening to melodic words spoken of happy vignettes of a long-lost childhood away in a world where we knew nothing of one another, ignorantly innocent. A memory that could be, were it not for the absence of the happiness itself.

The first thing that I'd noticed upon entering, however, was the warmth this cold place emanates. Not through its people; though no villagers make any efforts to shun us, they make an equal one out of welcoming us to their residence, not particularly bothering to observe us by any means. It appears this side of Icicle Mountain (the east) exhibits more of the sun's rays than it ever has back home. While the air is almost as chilling as our northern winds at home, brightening warmth envelopes our surroundings, awakening flora unknown as they gaze up to that godly light. Pure white snowdrops are a common sight in our region, but they could never compare to the deep azures of these alpine gentians in bloom, or the lilac campion daintinesses sprinkled across the snow like purple rain. If there's one thing Hachigo is best known for, it's its natural beauty. The whole place seems a little like a quaint garden of wonders at first sight, and would do even more so if the community did kind enough to accompany that impressive bewilderment their visitors meet.

As for the cottages that compose the village's presence, they're no bigger than the smaller cabins of Yukino, but instead of firm log roofs protecting their interiors, they're instead topped by thickly thatched coverings of straw, giving off a somewhat medieval vibe. The windows, whilst still made of glass, have an additional wooden door concealing them, a few with mini flower-boxes perched onto a couple of apertures that add a spike of colour to the dull brown clay walls. Yet those petals speckled around the village are the only true source of colour in the place – while it's admittedly beautiful, the drab buildings themselves, though I hate to say it, almost spoil the astonishment of the natural surroundings.

"...We'd best find an inn or somewhere to stay for a night or two soon," I wonder out loud, briefly scanning the architectures around me. Nana doesn't reply, only nodding to signal that she heard my statement. Though the sun is still present in the sky, the latter is now a soft golden shade, harmoniously accompanying its star as it gradually begins to set behind the mountain.

The pair of us roam around the village for a while in silence. There isn't much for me to say to my partner at this point in time since her awkward shuffles more or less tell the fact that she isn't willing to speak. There's that tight worry rippling in my stomach again – like I'm scared any sound that leaves my lips will stab her as painfully as it did earlier. At this point, I can't tell if I'm just being insecure or if it's the eerie unfriendliness of this place.

We eventually come across a small hostel affordable enough for both of us when sharing the few pyks we have between us – thankfully, just enough to pay for our needs. Similarly to earlier, upon our arrival into the building, no onlookers take much notice of us, most of them far too engrossed in their own conversations and activities to notice the foreign tourists strutting in.

When I say that it's small, I mean it's small. There's quite a crowd packed into the lobby down here, with more or less all of the tables occupied by customers. Without a doubt, many of the lodgings upstairs are probably going to be just as congested, so I begin to doubt whether we'll be able to reserve a space.

Luckily for us, the queue by the counter quickly disintegrates after several drinks of Nitopi are hurriedly served, their stench disappearing with their new owners. Shortly after, Nana and I are the next to be managed, our gazes meeting an elderly woman's worn wrinkled face, her expression fatigued.

Being one of the first people to acknowledge us, she smiles weakly. "And how can I help you two young'uns?" the woman asks with a raspy voice.

"Uh, we'd like to have a room for one night, please." I reply, placing the pyks on the counter hesitantly. Something about this woman is oddly intimidating.

This only causes her to grin even more, so much that it almost seems forced for the sake of selling her business to us, the corners of her mouth stretched across the length of her face.

"Not g'nna get up to any naughty business now, 're we?"

I sense Nana tense up at the old lady's little 'joke', abruptly slamming both of her hands onto the tabletop as she exclaims, "That's not- we're not like-!"

Half-expecting the woman to simply laugh along, it's my turn to stiffen as her expression flashes from one of vague friendliness into leering suspicion, as she sceptically looks Nana up and down.

"You seem familiar, lass."

Nana freezes. I'm about to open my mouth to provide much-needed back-up for her, but she answers before I can, plastering a less nerved mask onto herself. In the sweetest voice she can muster, she responds, "Do I? I don't recall having been here before, I'm afraid," with a light chuckle.

Another uncomfortable pause fills the air between us and the innkeeper, who thinks to herself for a moment. To both our inner reliefs, she isn't able to place her finger on when she may have seen Nana before, and her tight frown loosens back into a frail simper. Sliding the pyks towards herself, she places them into a small moneybox, before handing us a key each for our lodging.

"Of course you hav'n't, dearie. My instinct's wearing out as much as I am already." She nods her head. "I apologise for the suspicion, sweetheart. See, somethin' was tryn'a tell me a lovely little girl such as yourself was one of those disgusting snowbats, right?"

Nana winces at the mention of the label, but retains her calm, honeyed composure in front of the old granny, who continues her drone.

"Last dirty bunch of them took off years ago, thank God for that," she spits. "That Hana, she was such a lovely, respectable young lady, 'nd then she decided to marry that demon. Worst thing's th't they produced a dirty little brat, too. You couldn't even call her a girl, not the way she is." The fear in me that had been faintly present upon our entrance into this wretched place crescendos with every hateful word that exits her resentful mouth. In Nana, however, doesn't seem to be fear: her slight trembles are evidently growing into livid shivers, her camouflage melting away as her inner fire burns with increasing fury every second. Now I have more than one thing to be worried about.

"I rememb'r feeling nearly 'arf sorry for that little monster. If her mother'd married a normal man, she'd be born just as human as the rest of us." the woman titters, shaking her head disappointedly.

"Marrying that beast was the end of her humanity. Ended up shrivelled up and sickly by the time she was 25. I bet his plan the whole time was to kill her slowly, just like that."

Those last words leaving her mouth are the trigger to Nana's avalanche. She looks as if she's about to burst into a fit of rage if she hears anymore, so I quickly interject the innkeeper's spiteful monologue, saying,

"Well, it'd certainly be dreadful if there were any of them here."

"Darn right you are! They'd kill us all in one blizzard." She seems to ignore or not notice the unintentional drop of sarcasm in my reply. The woman starts muttering inaudible complaints and whatnot to herself, so I immediately seize the opportunity to hastily thank her for her 'hospitality' before dragging Nana away with me back outside. She needs some cold air, anyway.

When we're far enough from the hostel and its listening ears, Nana allows herself to let out a loud scream of frustration, anger, sadness, hatred and sorrow. She sinks down to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest as she sobs, and I fall with her, accompanying her in her melancholy.

"I hate this place." she whimpers.

I don't say anything in reply, unsure of whether I should reply in the first place. Nana will want me to say something instead of giving her the silent treatment, but I've never been good with words, even if I am in her eyes.

I decide a gentle hug will suffice, and I wrap my arms around her figure, careful not to squeeze too tight.

She continues to sniffle between her faint tears, but slowly brings her arms up to hold me. I'm almost able to hear the smile on her face when she murmurs, "Thank you," through muffled hands.

There was a time a couple of years ago, when we'd just began to ascend into adolescence, where I was far too shy for my own good to even touch my friend (let alone hold her hand), partly because I was too awkward to be as close to her as we had been as young children, but mostly because I was scared.

I was scared of onlooking gazes and the thoughts that might cross their minds if they saw us...like that. It wouldn't look like innocent playfulness between two good friends – no, it would be twisted into an undeclared attraction of that sort, twisted with our growth. Saying "we're just friends" never made a difference anyway, did it? It just had to be, of course. There was no way our friendship wouldn't become that romance, sooner or later. Because you can't be just friends when it comes to boys and girls.

That's why I'm cherishing this moment, a moment where I can be Nana's friend, nothing more or less, free from the bold judgemental leers of the world. A girl that deserves the best love she can get, with the best friends she can have in the best place on this planet.

Our friendship is my duty, one I'm glad to have, and I refuse to fail.

"I don't want them to hurt you," Nana whispers. She quietly laughs for a short moment, continuing, "Even if they catch us, I'll get the worse punishment anyway, so that's good. I'm sure they'll love having a familiar face to beat up."

I barely notice my embrace tighten ever so slightly. "That won't happen, so don't think about it. I'll make sure it doesn't."

"What, are you my bodyguard or something?" she chuckles.

"Obviously."

Nana finally looks up from her lap, turning her head to face me with an impish grin. "It's meant to be the other way round, dummy."

Rolling my eyes with a smirk, I shoot back, "Well, we'll both be happy if we agree to be each other's bodyguards. Do we have a deal?" I ask, extending my hand out to her.

She returns a knowing stare, smiling as she grasps my hand between both of hers.

"Deal."

"Is this all we need?" I hold up a couple of ropes to show Nana, who's preoccupied with some weird thingamabobs on display in a nearby stall. We're currently browsing the evening market, a unique feature of Hachigo that can't be found anywhere else (most merchants back in Yukino are too lazy to stay out for the rest of the night), gathering spare supplements we'll need to traverse the next few mountains with.

"Ropes and a few water bottles should be enough," she hollers back, still concentrated on the trinkets. Curious, I make my way over to her to see what's stealing her attention so badly. The stall keeper doesn't seem at all bothered by Nana's own interest in his goods, just standing there watching her inspect the various products he has for sale with a tired look on his face.

Taking a look myself, I observe various rocks and shimmering crystals along a couple of shelves, presumably artefacts from the seller's own travels that he has no longer use for; minuscule snow globes with wooden displays encapsulated within them, lightweight pebbles used to mimic the falling snow; wooden ornaments resembling flora and fauna alike, with intricately carved features, and-

Hanging from parts of his stall are short threaded bracelet-like straps, which I then understand are accessories designed to adorn bags, wrists, hair – the colours woven into them create a satisfying harmony with one another. Nana's eyes appear illuminated by one particular one, however; it's a strap braided with pink and blue threads, with delicate crystals between several of the strings, giving off the appearance of snow crystals sprinkled along with it. The colours alternate: pink, blue, pink, blue, all tied together into one structure.

"How much do you want for one of those?" I inquire, pointing to the strap Nana's focused on. She suddenly looks up, only just noticing my presence, but I don't return her look for the moment.

"They come in pairs," the stall keeper replies. "3 pyks for a pair."

Without delay, I pass the coins over, in exchange for the straps that the man happily hands over to me (I assume we're one of the few sales he's gotten in a while), and I, in turn, present one of the straps to Nana. She blinks back at me for a second, bewildered.

"I was just looking. You didn't have to go to all that trouble," she sighs, rolling her eyes with a slight blush. When she faces me again, there's an odd curious glint in her eyes.

I just smile back. "Don't worry about it," I reply, hardly noticing the rise in heat in my cheeks from her reaction. This prompts her to let a smirk cross her face again, and she pats the other strap in my hand.

"This is the first time we've gotten matching friendship bracelets. Like, ever!"

Oh, so that's what they are. It sounds like something I should know, but no matter. If they're friendship bracelets, then maybe she's got the message already.

A short period of quietness passes between us as we begin our journey back to the inn before I speak again.

I give myself a deep breath. "Um..."

She stops walking for a moment, quizzically raising an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"...Think of it as an apology, I guess."

I'm not quite sure how I expect Nana to respond, because I'm too busy thinking over the bad ways this could possibly go. I don't want her to get the wrong idea or anything- not that she will, of course, but it's hard to tell with her.

Instead, she shakes her head, though a weird grin is still imprinted on her face. "You don't need to be sorry for anything, Popo. I was being hard on you, so- so I'm the one who should be saying sorry." She beams up at me, even though we only have a bare height difference.

"Oh, what are you talking about? I overreacted and said all those awful things, things no one needs to hear-"

"Popo." Nana's stare is now one of sternness, slightly scrunched up into a serious frown. "I'm...glad you've realised your mistakes. But let me admit to mine too, okay?"

It's weird for me to say it out loud, but that's an oddly selfless thing for Nana to say. Not that I'm doubting her, but-

"I thought I understood your suffering, but I've realised something now." She carries on talking.

"There's no way, ever, that I'll understand it. Just like how...how, I won't ever really comprehend some things about you. Like why you always, always blame yourself for everything, even when you really don't need to, or why you're never truly sure of yourself. It's sad, but I can still appreciate you the best I can, right?"

Stunned, I can't immediately think of a response to Nana's musing. My mind's still trying to process what she's saying.

"But that time, when I thought I was saying what was best for you, I was just being selfish. Like I usually am, but I- I don't want to be, it slips and..." She laughs nervously, before stuttering uncontrollably again. "No, I shouldn't be making excuses. I mean, there aren't any- I...I guess what I'm trying to say is..."

It's very rare for me to see Nana like this, an often confident, outspoken girl like herself lost with her words. Twisting a braid around her finger, she grants herself a moment to inhale and exhale, calming herself.

"I'm sorry for being an awful friend," she says, a sad, cracked smile forming.

My eyes widen, bewildered by this sudden change in behaviour. "Nana, you're anything but that! What's up with you?" I can't stop stuttering, confusion clouding my head as I try to face who should be Nana, standing in front of me, yet...she isn't acting it. "Why are you saying all of this...this nonsense?"

But she only laughs again. "It's not nonsense, silly."

"It is if I say it is," I rebut, sounding a little more aggressive than I like. I murmur a brief apology before continuing.

"You're amazing. You know that, right?" The words I try to form come out shaky, to my discontentment. But they need to be said.

"That's what I'd like to think," she grins, though hints of tears sparkle against her eyes. "if it was true."

"Which it just so happens to be," I argue, briskly taking her hands into mine.

"You're no more perfect than I am-"- both her eyebrows raise as she realises that I've paraphrased the words she imparted to me nights ago - "-and that's okay. You can be clumsy and reckless, you don't think before doing things, but most of all,"

I raise a hand, my index finger pointed up so I can gently poke Nana's nose; she can only pout in retaliation.

"You use your mouth to insult yourself too much, even when you don't realise it. I wish you wouldn't, honestly. I wish you'd realise how strong you are, whether it's when you climb or when you stand up for people or… or even when you're dancing." That last statement brings a small grin across her face. I know if I give her time to speak, she'll make some snarky comment about how she can't dance despite everything I've said, so I keep on going.

"You aren't perfect, but you're better than that. You're so imperfect it's surpassing perfection. That's why you're my friend." I pause. "So, to correct your sentence: you're a brilliant friend."

It's only then after I say that last part that my eyes were closed the whole time – when I next open them, Nana's face is one of shock. Anyone might expect her to be in tears, having them stream down her face to accompany her perplexity, but her violet irises are only opened wide, in a surprised stare. She looks as if she's still attempting to comprehend what message I tried to deliver to her, so I don't say anything for a while, letting the silence drown out my worries instead.

Nana briefly shakes herself a little, brushing herself down until she feels she can face me again. Her purple eyes look as if they're glistening even more than before when she was first met with surprise, kind of like the rocky crystals and gems from the stall earlier. Maybe better.

"Right back at ya, Popo. Thanks."

She pulls her hands away so she can inherit the capacity to yank me into a tight bear hug - short but sweet, even though I can't move my arms at all. A brief giggle escapes her lips, and she smiles again, before pulling the bracelet back out of her pocket. She ties it onto her right wrist, firmly and tightly. As it sparkles on top of her leather brown gloves, she says, "Put yours on, too."

Initially, the thought startles me, what with the whole idea of me wearing a bracelet seeming too surreal to consider, but I agree anyway. I latch the strap onto my left, concealing part of it with my parka sleeve and glove so that it's safely nestled away. Placing my wrist side-by-side with Nana's hand, I observe the match between us.

With a slight flush, I murmur, "Does it look alright?"

"I mean, duh. Obviously it does," Nana smirks. "'Cause I'm wearing mine with you."

An odd warming happiness ripples in my stomach. "Is that so?" I chuckle.

"Uh-huh. I wouldn't match a friendship bracelet with a stranger."

"Mm...maybe we should have gotten some for Miko and Riko, too-"

But I don't finish, because I'm interrupted by a loud "No!" blurted out by Nana. She turns pink, almost blending in with her parka, save the puffy whites of her hood and sleeves, but it reminds me of her abrupt outburst earlier at the peak of our recent mountain. Whatever it is that's pushing her weird behaviour, it probably isn't something I should pursue right now.

Muffling her voice with the rough material of her gloves, she mutters "Sorry. Uh, what I meant was...well, it'd be cooler if we kept this between us, right?" It sounds more like a half-hearted excuse she made up five seconds ago, though I don't pay attention to that for the time being.

I shrug. "If that's how you want it, I guess."

It doesn't matter to me either way. It shouldn't. I mean, well, having just this one thing special to me and Nana only is somewhat lifting in spirit, yet I can't help but feel a pang of guilt for not thinking of my other friends imminently. I guess Nana only came to mind first because she was closest to me at the time.

"I mean...I know they're friendship bracelets. I get what you mean and everything, but-"

Mid-sentence, she turns towards me.

"-they were sold in pairs for a reason."