"Ever met a fairy, boy? I've met one or two before."

Such was the question his oddball uncle had asked some time ago. The boy had not put too much thought into it nor the claim that followed because the man had clearly had a few too many to drink and was clearly wasted.

While the question earned his uncle his father's rebuke for instilling "foolish, civilian beliefs" in his son, he thought his father need not worry, honestly. Because he didn't believe in the supernatural, fairies included. Every account of fairy sightings was a sham. Especially the Cottingley fairies, much to Arthur Conan Doyle's embarrassment. They didn't exist except as figments that a whimsical, childish mind imagined.

But one thing had changed that, in a way. Maybe the next time they met, he could tell his uncle that.

His story would begin at a certain academy in a certain quiet coastal town. It was an ancient one, and the naval base it served was built around it, not the other way around—turning it into a striking centerpiece, a relic surrounded by the modern world.

It was just old, however, not elite. It certainly wasn't Eton nor Gordonstoun, and the only reason anyone enrolled there was its convenient location. The students mainly consisted of children of stationed officers—the military brats. To many of them, the school would probably be the closest thing to a naval academy they would ever taste, though some did grow up to become future officers, or so he heard. His father certainly hoped he would, especially when his old man could no longer serve. The war had forced him into early retirement.

And then, there were them. The KANSENs. He wasn't sure of their purpose for attending school—probably to gain some semblance of a normal life amid the lull in fighting if he had to guess. Most of them did appear to be of school age and acted that part, too. The boys would discreetly leer at them but wouldn't do more than that, and the girls would leave them alone for whatever reasons. Despite sharing a roof, their destinies were indeed worlds apart.

His father, though, had warned him—don't get involved with them. So he didn't.

One spring of his second year, which had just begun, he found himself in the library as an assistant librarian instead of in classes. A punishment for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Meaning well didn't always end well; he had learned. He was just trying to break up a fight but ended up getting caught up in it. The actual librarian had been quite eager to hand over the job, and he soon knew why. The task was numbingly dull, but he thought that compared to being sent to the galley to peel potatoes and scrub grease off endless plates, this was basically only a slap on the wrist.

But he wouldn't deny the library wasn't particularly stimulating in every sense of the word. The lighting was barely adequate—provided mainly by that window stretching from the floor up to the ceiling in front of his desk—and the volumes and the tomes were dusty and old. Some might even have been old enough to crumble if he had so much as looked at them wrong.

Hours upon hours passed until it was the end of the school day, and he had not encountered a single soul. Not entirely surprising—these days, one could just look things up quickly without going to a library.

Apparently, not having any work was as tiring as actually working, and after letting out a very long yawn, he began to doze, figuring he could get some shuteye before locking the doors. He could dread having to go through it again later tomorrow.

At that time, he thought the silvery blur zipping past him was a dream. But through eyes left groggy by half-slumber, he could see the shadow turning around and scurrying toward his desk.

"Excuse me, where is the librarian?" a soft but hardly meek voice inquired.

He rubbed his eyes to help get rid of the bleariness. Her features soon became clear against the backdrop of noon sunlight—well-tended tresses and braided sidelocks, tinted cool silver (which he had thought was platinum blonde at first glance); the tempered gleam of the blue eyes behind the most oversized round glasses he had ever seen, which indeed lent to a bookish impression; and the light smile conveying an overall airy disposition, though she also had a nervous air about her. Her navy blue, gold-trimmed uniform was immaculate. Almost. There were crumbs on the collar and her cheek, and he was curious if she realized it at all, though he kept that question to himself.

"So, do you know where the librarian is?" she spoke again. There was an odd chill around him as she did, but he chalked it up to the library being drafty at times.

"Uh, Madam Prince is out for the time being. I'm here as her assistant. How can I help you?"

"Oh, I see. Well, you see, I'm looking for some books. Do you happen to know where I can find them? The library's still open, right?"

"Well, since I'm still here, I guess so. Let's see what I can do."

Even though he was convinced the girl was doubtful of him, judging from her somewhat resigned tone, he rose from his seat anyway. He'd admit he didn't know, and her doubts were not entirely unfounded, but he could try. So that's what he told her—he would try. Apparently, it was good enough for her because he soon found himself traversing the winding maze of bookshelves with her in tow. Whoever designed this place was crazy, he grumbled. At least the girl didn't complain.

And he just realized it now, assuming it wasn't his mind toying with him for no good reason—amid the musty, wooden scent around them, there were traces of something sweet, but he could not precisely tell what. It could be sugar. Or vanilla. Or probably marmalade. Whatever it was, it felt like some lingering aroma you took home from a baker's shop. It was a pleasant distraction, he would say.

"Oh, this is the fairytale section!" she exclaimed while he was distracted, driving him into an abrupt pause. But they were indeed at the section she mentioned. How could he miss that? Whirling around, he noticed she was browsing the books. It didn't take long for her to find what she wanted. He couldn't tell what it was because she didn't show him. Not that he's all that interested anyway.

She clutched that storybook (At least he thought it was one) as they resumed walking. Then she hummed a melody. It was nice, he thought. So carefree. Being thought of as childish for reading that sort of book or strange for coming to that library clearly wasn't a concern to her.

"You like that kind of story, huh?" against his better judgment, he asked. The regret came almost immediately—and after that, relief because she laughed.

"Fairies? Well, you may say so! Fairies are fascinating, you know? You'll never know if what they show you is real or just an illusion. You never know if you're seeing one, even. They could disappear at any given moment. Oh, they are also good at making sweets and flowers, I heard."

"Oh...Okay then."

He had hoped he wouldn't sound too dismissive because he was, to be honest, a little weirded out. Again, she just laughed as though she understood he found her words unusual and expected that reaction. Now, he felt a little guilty, regardless of how true that was.

"You don't believe in fairies, do you?"

"...Well...no. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. They aren't real. But stories about them are interesting."

He looked over his shoulder. She was still smiling despite her wistful-tinged words.

"Hmm...I guess so..."

"Mm. Ah... here's the arts and crafts section. Let me take a look around a bit. Sorry for making you come with me, though. You're supposed to go back already, aren't you?"

"No, it's fine."

It was true he could just let her look around by herself. She seemed to know the place better than him. He had no idea why he insisted on coming along, but he did, and he didn't find it unwelcome, no matter how late it had become.

"Ah, there it is," she took another book and dusted the cover off. Like before, he couldn't see the title, but there were pictures of flowers on it.

"Let's go. Only one left, and then we're done!"

That shelf they were looking for, which was devoted to food, was located just near the previous one. Again, it was she who found it. But it took longer for her to find what she wanted this time.

"...Do you know the specific title...?" he asked as she continued to comb the shelves. While she took the first two books on a whim, it seemed that she had one in mind for this one.

"It was something my mentor told me about. She said I could find it here. Maybe it's up there...?"

He followed her gaze to the top of the towering shelf. None of them could reach it without some help, and it just so happened a ladder was nearby. But he wasn't too confident in how that old, decrepit-looking wooden ladder would hold up. And despite seemingly sharing his concern, she approached the ladder anyway.

"Well, can't let us holed up in here for long, so let's just get it done, shall we?"

"Ah, wait. I'll do it," he offered. No way he would let her endanger herself like that.

"What...? You think I can't, huh? You think I can't take care of myself? I'll do this. You stay there."

Left speechless by her sudden lashing out, he could only watch her setting up the ladder and climbing it up to the very top when she couldn't find what she was looking for.

"...There...!" she finally exclaimed after a while. The book she talked about was on the end of that row, but she was a touch too far to easily get it. So she began to reach out for it, each attempt making the ladder creak even more—until, to his horror, one of its legs finally gave in.

But she was safe in his arms, even though she was gasping, panting, and shaking, just like he was. Even after he put her down, she had to cling to him for a moment before she could stand straight on her own.

But she did get the book, miraculously.

"I... I'm...so...sorry," she whispered, nearly breaking into sobs. "It's just...I don't like...when...when..."

"... That's alright. It's okay."

When he placed a hand on her shoulder, she began to calm down. For once, he was glad the library was desolate. The gesture was awkward, but it worked.

Since she had gotten everything she was looking for, they went back to his desk. She was apparently a first-year because she had no library card and was indeed a KANSEN.

Edinburgh, she wrote her name. As in HMS Edinburgh. But everyone would just call her Edi, she told him.

"Well then... that's all. You can borrow those books for a week or renew them as much as you like. Nobody's ever coming here anyway."

"...Thank you...well, maybe you could tell me your name? I told you mine."

"Williams. A cadet, as you can see."

"Ah, yes. So, should it be Cadet Williams or just Williams?"

"Anything's fine, I guess."

"Alright, Williams, it is. Well then, I will take my leave, Williams. Oh, before I forgot..."

Against the backdrop of the setting sun on the window, she smiled even though her eyes were still glistening with tears.

"Thank you for all you've done for me today."

It was, for lack of a better word, ethereal. And she had already disappeared by the time he snapped out of the daze it caused.

And now, all that was left for him to do was to lean back on his chair and wonder if the stirring within and the lingering sweetness was real and not just a figment of his imagination.

He didn't expect to see her again so soon. It had been only a few days.

She was sitting alone near the fountain during a break, her eyes fixated on a book. The gentle sunlight falling on her served to make the luster of her hair all the more striking. Against his better judgment and his father's words, he approached her. Almost immediately, he became aware of the same sweet scent she had about her. It was definitely not from the serving of chips she had before her.

The book she was reading was one of the three he helped her find in the library. The one that almost got herself injured trying to get. Apparently, it was a cookbook on baked treats.

She would occasionally help herself to the chips, not neglecting to use a paper napkin so that the oil wouldn't get into her hand and soil the pages and making sure the crumbs wouldn't fall into the book. She had some of them on her cheeks, though. Not unlike what he had seen before.

He decided to stop watching her before things got awkward and sat before her. She took no notice of him until she finally put the book down.

"Oh, hello, Williams! Pleasant day, isn't it."

Her voice was chipper, and there were no signs that she was even slightly surprised to see him there. But he had the feeling she had known he was there.

"Good morning...what are you doing out here?" he asked. It was mostly out of politeness, but she seemed pleased nonetheless.

"Oh, nothing, really! Just enjoying what little chance I have to read the books I borrowed."

She brushed some invisible dust from the cover with the ease of someone familiar with cleaning things. Their chat went on as her gaze was fixed on the pages.

"So many recipes, I can't decide what to try next...But with this, I will surely..."

She trailed off, then went silent.

"...Will surely what?"

She took her eyes off the book to stare at the grass, wistful.

"Ah, well..." She paused as if hesitating. "Well, gotta do that, or 'she' will catch up with me real soon. I don't...really mind, but still..."

"She...?"

Her smile waned until it became thin.

"Sometimes it's hard when you have someone you care about, and she does everything better; she might as well not need me."

"Well...I...uh..."

"But, I guess I'll keep being there for her, regardless!"

"...Yeah."

Her smile regained its brilliance as she flipped back a couple of pages.

"I don't want to waste too much of your time with all of this, so...may I know what brings you here, Williams? Do you need any help with the library, by any chance?"

He paused before shaking his head, feeling like an idiot because he still had no idea what made him sit here. He would say she was expecting this and merely smiled again knowingly.

"Well, no...it was just a detention of sorts, and I'm done with it. So I'm not coming back. Unless I got into trouble again, that is. But then father would hear, and I wouldn't hear the end of it when I returned home this summer. I don't want that."

"Too bad."

"Too bad?"

She chuckled as he raised a brow, her entire face suddenly obscured by the book.

"Yeah, too bad. You are nice, you know? Wish Sheffy could be more gentle like you. I'm mostly alone here because the others are too busy to attend school, or so they said, Bel—'she' included. Well, so what! Here I am, studying here, and I could still perform my duties when needed!"

He chuckled along, not really knowing what he was chuckling at. Maybe because he found it pleasing to talk to someone without them bringing up his father or his legacy.

"Oh, before I forgot..."

She rummaged through her skirt pockets and pulled out a small packet filled with cookies. She almost dropped it as she did.

"I made these last night. Would you please accept them?"

"...Me?"

"Of course. You were a big help in the library. The least I can do is give you something in return."

"Uh... yeah. Thank you, Edinburgh."

"Don't mention it!"

And again, he caught a glimpse of that ethereal smile as she turned back to her book, and it sent that stirring inside him into a flurry again.

The overpowering aroma took less than a minute to allure him into tearing the packet open and biting into one. He was met with an explosion of flavors, a mingling of the intensity of chocolate and buttery warmth. If any cookie could be perfect, then it was perfect.

It wasn't long before the first piece was gone, followed by the rest. The taste lingered, as did her smile and that sweetness that followed her.

"These...taste good. I mean, really good," he muttered as she was about to flip to the next page and peered from the book.

"...You're welcome. Glad you liked it."

She carried on with reading after that. He did not know how to feel when he finally noticed the small tint of pink on her cheeks.

Madam Prince, who clearly was not all too pleased to be stuck as the librarian again, was surprised when he showed up at the library.

"Oh... It's you. Did you come here for detention or something? I hope you're not trying to get into trouble."

She didn't look like a librarian with that uniform of hers. She was always Captain Prince, first and foremost. Being an officer stuck with a desk job was something nobody would be happy with. That was why she looked surly most of the time.

That was the reason he was nervous.

"Oh, no. Just...looking around."

"Well, that's quite a welcome change of pace," she let out a dry snort, "usually only that KANSEN...HMS Edinburgh, I believe, would come here regularly. Never knew one of their kind would be interested in books, especially ones so old. But I digress. Welcome to the library."

"Is she...here?"

Williams swallowed a lump when Madam Prince narrowed her eyes.

"Yes, she is."

"Thank you..." he excused himself, hoping he wouldn't appear too hasty.

"Don't get into trouble."

He nodded, though not without apprehension at the stern warning.

The place remained the same as always, just like Edinburgh. He found it reassuring.

The sweet aroma around her had grown familiar by now, and so did his attraction towards it.

He took a seat before her right away, getting the impression she was waiting.

"Hey. What are you reading now?"

She chuckled and closed the book to show him the cover. The storybook she had borrowed.

"A famous tale about a fairy godmother. Well, the ending's kind of sad, though, because she couldn't keep being with her goddaughter, even after they found happiness."

"Why not?"

She chuckled again, with the hint of wistfulness lingering within.

"Fairies don't get happy endings. Which is why people are told not to associate with them, eh?"

"Fairies..." He was not exactly thrilled to talk about them again. And that last part, they were eerily reminiscent of his father's advice—or order. Whatever it was, he had gone against it so many times.

He didn't regret it one bit, though.

"Don't worry, Williams," she reassured him with a smile. "This is the real world, so we shouldn't be worried about that sort of thing, you see?"

"Oh. That's...good?"

That wasn't relieving at all. Her thin, melancholic smile didn't help either. But the conversation came to a close after that. She proceeded to read another story while he sat there in silence, content with just watching.

At some point, with no warning, her hand froze on the page she was reading. She took a while before turning her gaze back to him. She had a different smile on her, a little warmer, more genuine.

"... Soo...I believe I must know why you are really here."

"Just want to chat," he lied. Nobody should know the extent of her pull on him. He had taken great pains to keep it from prying eyes. For her sake. For his, too.

"I'm flattered. Then...maybe I should get to know more about you. Like, where are you from? It must be really far, seeing that you are staying in a dorm."

"Newfoundland. But we're not natives. Before that, we used to move a lot between my father's postings before father decided it'd be good for us to settle as a...family, as he put it."

"Hmm. A Newfoundlander...never been to that part of the world myself, so...well, you've come a long way here. And...I am from. ..ah, well, despite my name, I'm not from Edinburgh. But England is still far from where you are from, though."

The way she said it was painful. It reminded him of how far apart their worlds are.

He got the sense she wanted to leave it at that. So he said nothing more about it and changed the subject.

"But...if you're fine with me here...you can...talk. Or...just do what you were doing."

He got an appreciative smile in return.

"Alright. It'll be better with a friend around."

So that's where he went whenever he had the chance.

And the day after, too.

And the days after.

And it had already become a routine he came to love. Not even his classmates' jeering would change that.

He dreaded the day the routine would end. Edinburgh was still there, much to his relief—but as time passed, things around them began to change, and not in a welcome way.

The academy had gotten quieter now but not serene. Elsewhere, the seas were aroar once more. He had gotten so accustomed to the peace he had with her that he forgot that the conflict with the Sirens was not over. They were just waiting. Biding their time.

Maybe he only wanted to believe the other way.

No classes today. No classes tomorrow either. Part of the faculty had been recalled to the front lines. Some were replaced with the less able, or so he thought—Even then, they didn't last long. Some of the students, whose families were more influential, had returned home early; he thought they were unlikely to return. They were too privileged.

Madam Prince was among the first to be recalled by the brass, but the library remained open. She slipped him the keys when she left, and at that time, she looked so kind.

Maybe she sympathized with Edinburgh, after all.

His father had not asked him to return home. He didn't want to anyway—as long as she was there, in the place they had claimed as their own.

How long it would last, he didn't know. She could be sent out anytime. He knew the time would come, but that thought was still terrifying.

He wondered what she thought about it. He couldn't bring himself to ask.

But today, at least, she was still in the usual corner near the window. Their haven.

Something was different. The sweet scent that usually lingered about her had been tempered with an earthy fragrance. Subtle, delicate—but one suggesting ruggedness.

He immediately found out why.

She wasn't reading; strewn before her were fresh flowers he didn't recognize, with prickles all over them. She was about to place one on a piece of paper when she noticed him and promptly pricked her finger on it. She didn't seem to be bothered or injured—though she did yelp—and smiled at his arrival. He smiled back, and it wasn't forced.

"Hello there, Wills!"

"Hey, Edi."

It was always consoling to know that they had gotten comfortable with each other to call the other more casually—even if she continued to call him by his family name, only shortened. It didn't feel distant.

"Look at these flowers. Pretty, huh?"

He would agree—but at the same time, they looked dangerous.

"Yeah," he sat across from her, like always. "What are they, though?"

"Scottish thistles. I'm making pressed thistles because..."

Her uneasy pause was alarming, as did the wistful look. When she turned to him, her smile had grown smaller. She seemed guilty.

"...I have never told you about 'her,' huh? I guess...that's how much you affected me. That simply slipped off my mind."

That candidness didn't feel relieving. He knew the time was coming.

"Who...?"

"My sister. My competent sister. Well...In no time, she will be out there, fighting. I know she will go before me because...because I...because she's more capable."

"I see," his heart felt like it was about to break seeing her faltering. He knew it was not her fault, but...

"...I've no idea if she would even need this, but I'm making this pressed thistle for her. Call it a good luck charm, if you will. Do you know what thistles symbolize, Wills?"

"Uh... no."

She had a tiny smile, one that was hard to notice—but he did.

"Courage. Endurance. Perseverance. All those things she has. She's the best, after all, and...she'll do great things. That's what the thistle symbolizes. That's what she is, too."

She went back to work after that, laying the flower on the paper and covering it with another sheet, followed by the cardstock. She was so careful, belying her usual clumsiness.

"That's what you are, too," she murmured.

"Me...?"

Now he understood why she had that many thistles before her. He hated to be skeptical of her after all these times. But he just couldn't understand. He was no one compared to her.

"Well, you are. That's why you're getting one, too."

He was supposed to be happy. Flattered.

But that sounded too much like a parting. It hurt.

"Don't...look at me like that. I know what you're thinking," her tone was a little chastising but not too much. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving until my sister does, and...then we'll see."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's fine."

He sat in silence as she continued, placing the flowers onto the cardstock and then flattening them with a heavy book. She repeated the steps with another flower.

She was solemn but not sad. Perhaps she was a little anxious, but he couldn't really tell what was on her mind.

"There, all done."

"How long will it take?"

"Two weeks, at least. Hopefully, they don't take too long, or I won't be able to give it to her before she departs."

"Ah. I hope so."

"...And thank you, Wills, for keeping me company."

Her voice was warm, and her smile ever so sweet. She was the embodiment of kindness, and it was unfair.

She shouldn't be out there fighting.

But, in the end, he said nothing and just smiled.

"No problem. Thank you, too, for making me those cookies. They are really good."

"Ah, it's nothing. I want to."

"Well, to me, they are something."

That earned him a chuckle and a genuine one at that.

"You are funny, Wills. Tell you what, I'll make them again for you."

"...That would be great. You are the best."

"Hahaha, well, thank you. You are also the best, Wills."

Her laughter was music to his ears, and so was her compliment. If only he could hear her laughter more.

But he was not going to be greedy.

"I'm...not that, though. But you are."

"Hee, I think you are too. Before this becomes a stalemate, why don't we just agree we're the best for each other."

He was not sure how she meant that, but it didn't matter. It was nice to hear it.

"I agree."

They parted ways later that day.

As usual, she went to the docks, and he stayed.

And like always, the following day, she would be back, and they would go to the library for a chat about nothing.

He did not mind the lack of classes. Neither did he mind that the students had lessened, and there were more empty seats in the classroom.

He was free to talk with her, and that was the most important thing.

And she did return. She returned every time, just as he did.

For the rest of the week, they met. She was still cheerful, more so after the flowers had finished drying and were ready to be framed.

But the day she received the confirmation letter, her demeanor changed. Her smile was a little strained. She was quieter than usual.

She didn't show it outright, but he knew she was sad.

"Edi."

"Yeah, Wills?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Well...I think it's fine for us to be honest sometimes. You're sad. Right?"

"Hmmm, no. I'm fine, honestly."

Her voice was low, and her lips curved downward, and her eyes didn't have that familiar glimmer.

She was a terrible liar. She was too sincere to lie.

"I...am not."

"Do you want to go somewhere else? Maybe it'll help."

"...Let's go to the beach."

The beach near the docks. He had never been there. It used to be a place of occasional outings for the base personnel, but now it was deserted.

Why she wanted to go there was beyond him. Not for recreation, that was for sure, because she wasn't smiling at all.

"You told me before. About how your father warned you not to associate with us KANSENs."

"Yeah...but I'm glad I chose to."

Her features remained stiff and solemn despite the reassurance. It looked so wrong on her.

"I...get where he's coming from. Our worlds, Wills, are too far apart. I...I should've realized that before I could care about you this much. Before...I could hurt you."

"I...we...can make it work. That old man...he's just out of touch."

Edinburgh shook her head and walked toward the waters. She easily trod the surface like it was solid ground.

Something only KANSENs can do.

And before he knew it, there was an insurmountable distance between them, one that he, a human, couldn't cross.

She had made her point.

Now, he would make his.

He walked past the shore toward where she stood.

She'll see that no matter how futile, he will try to cross that distance.

Because he's no coward—she had said as much.

He wasn't afraid. He will endure. He will perservere.

"Wills, st—stop!"

He soon heard her shouting, pleading. Just this once, he won't listen.

The water gradually swallowed his ankles, his legs, and then his waist.

And that was when he lost his footing and fell.

He didn't care about the briny water flooding his nose, his mouth, and his lungs.

It's just water.

But she cared.

She was already pulling him up and easily carrying him to the shore as he coughed and gasped and spat and choked. There, she patted him on the back and laid him on the sand.

"What were you thinking? You could have died!"

"...That you're worth it?"

How very cheesy. But how else would he put it? She had no taste for eloquence and honeyed words—her beloved storybooks the only exception.

"...If you're going, then...I'm going with you."

"Wh-what?"

"They are already desperate enough to ask for volunteers from among us remaining students, Edi. I had thought my teacher was joking—maybe wanted to believe he was—when he said that perhaps soon enough, the situation would be so dire that all of us would be pressed into service, no matter what. So I will enlist."

"Bu-bu..."

He wished she didn't look so pained when he took her hand.

"Father would've wanted that. But know that I'm not doing this for him. Or because I pity you. I'm doing this for me. Because you are worth it—I've been thinking about it since I realized you would go one day, and I've never been more certain."

"Wills..."

"I want to fight alongside you."

"Damn it, I can't talk you out of this, can I?"

"No. I'm stubborn."

"Yeah, you are."

"So you know I wouldn't back down, right?"

"...I can't stop you, can I?"

"You can, but only by badly maiming me. I doubt you would."

That drew a soft laugh out of her.

"That thought did cross my mind."

He laughed at the jest. She was a terrible liar indeed.

"But, I...will take you up on that offer. And I hope you will never regret it. Because if you do, then I'm really going to maim you."

"Don't worry, Edi. I won't regret anything."

"Well...I'm glad, Wills. And...thank you."

"For what?"

"For staying."

He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed his back.

"Always, Edi. Always."

That night, Edinburgh did not return to wherever she was supposed to be. She didn't leave his side, either.

They watched the sunset and then the stars, laying on their backs and not caring that the sands would ruin their uniforms. They won't need them anymore soon, anyway.

It was the best evening of his life.

Fairies don't get happy endings, she once said.

Maybe KANSENs don't either.

But who's to say they don't have the power to change things?

Their story had yet to end.

It had just begun.