The sharp clink of the trowel striking something hard was exceptionally clear in the quiet night.
Mingyue immediately stopped her movements and brushed away the loose soil with her hands, revealing a rusted iron box underneath.
She set the trowel aside and carefully felt along the edges of the iron box, digging out the loose dirt bit by bit with her fingers.
“Found it,” she said, her voice tight with excitement.
Lightweaver crouched down too, and together they cleared away the dirt surrounding the iron box.
Mingyue lifted the iron box out of the pit and placed it on the grass between them.
The lid was heavily rusted, and the hinges groaned with a harsh, grating sound, but the box itself was still relatively intact.
Lightweaver pulled her phone out of her pocket, checking the image on the screen.
Mingyue didn't rush her, quietly crouching nearby and watching as Lightweaver gently brushed the dirt off the surface of the iron box.
“...Aren't you going to open it and look inside?” Mingyue asked.
“I can't. This is someone else's time capsule. I'm just keeping it safe for her to hand over on the day of the school anniversary.”
Lightweaver carefully placed the iron box into a cloth bag she had prepared beforehand.
“As for what's inside, it should be up to the person who buried it to decide whether to share it.”
Misa Tachibana had buried this with her own hands ten years ago. It contained her youth and her proof of being “White Night.”
Opening it without permission would be disrespectful to the Store Owner.
Lightweaver pulled the drawstring of the cloth bag tight, stood up, and brushed the grass clippings and dirt off her knees.
She turned around to find Mingyue still crouching beside the excavated pit, scooping up the dug-out dirt with her hands and filling it back in, handful by handful.
Her movements were very earnest, gently patting down each layer with her palms as if trying to restore the ground to how it looked before, as though nothing had ever happened.
Lightweaver didn't rush her. She waited until Mingyue patted down the last handful of dirt, stood up, and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.
The pit was now filled. The freshly turned soil gleamed with a damp, dark hue under the moonlight, contrasting sharply with the moss-covered old earth around it.
Shizuru brushed the last traces of dirt from her hands and looked up, only to find Lightweaver leaning against the trunk of the ginkgo tree, watching her.
“You have dirt on your face,” Lightweaver said, pointing to her own left cheek to show her.
Shizuru reflexively wiped at it with the back of her hand, leaving a light gray smudge, but because her fingers were still dirty, she only ended up adding a new streak to her face.
Staring at her dirty fingers, she suddenly wanted to laugh.
She no longer had any reason to stay here, yet she didn't really want to leave.
Who knew when they would see each other next?
“I still haven't settled the score with you about the shovel earlier,”
she said, turning her head away with a huff. The smudged dirt on her cheek looked like cat whiskers, and the slight curl of her lips betrayed her feigned annoyance.
Lightweaver looked at the dirty face under the moonlight. Mingyue was still stealing glances at her from time to time, probably wondering how she could stretch this night out for just a few minutes longer.
Lightweaver pulled a pack of wet wipes from her pocket and walked toward Mingyue.
Meanwhile, Mingyue was still trying to think of a way to make this moment last a bit longer.
But even after she spoke, she still didn't hear a response from the other girl.
Did she fly away?
...Leaving without even saying a word.
She had only wanted to tease her a little, but Lightweaver hadn't even replied. She was probably annoyed that Mingyue was being so petty.
She set the trowel down on the ground, stood up with her head lowered, brushed the grass off her skirt, and reached for the scythe leaning against the tree trunk.
“Who's leaving?”
The voice was right in front of her.
Shizuru looked up with a start. Lightweaver was standing right in front of her, holding an unfolded wet wipe, her head tilted as she looked at her.
Under the moonlight, her short hair gleamed with a cool, silvery light.
“...What are you doing?” Shizuru instinctively leaned back, but her back hit the rough bark of the ginkgo tree, leaving her with nowhere to retreat.
She caught the faint scent of alcohol from the wet wipe, along with the cool, refreshing scent that always lingered on Lightweaver.
Her heart began to race once again.
“...You didn't leave,” Shizuru said, her voice a little dry.
“When did I ever say I was leaving?”
“Don't move.” Lightweaver raised her hand, gently pressing the wet wipe against the dirt smudge on Mingyue's left cheek.
Mingyue's skin was cooler than she had expected, likely because she had been crouching on the ground digging in the dirt for so long.
The smudge stretched from the side of her nose all the way to her ear. Lightweaver's fingertips, separated only by the thin wet wipe, slowly traced and wiped along the line of the dirt.
She could feel Mingyue's cheek growing slightly warm beneath her fingertips.
Yet, when Lightweaver shifted her gaze from her cheek to Mingyue's eyes, Mingyue didn't dare to meet her look.
Mingyue averted her gaze by a few degrees, staring at the moon in the sky behind Lightweaver.
“You wiped your face with dirty hands earlier, so it only got smudged worse. If Nuomi sees you like this when we get back, it'll make fun of you.”
Lightweaver folded the wet wipe, using a clean side to continue wiping a fainter dirt mark on her chin.
“...Nuomi isn't here,” Mingyue said, her lips pursed tightly.
They were so close, and she wasn't sure if Lightweaver had even heard her whispered words.
The dirt had already half-dried, requiring a bit of pressure to wipe off.
Lightweaver applied a bit more pressure, and Mingyue could feel the force on her cheek even through the wet wipe.
Lightweaver frowned, realizing she couldn't apply enough leverage with just one hand.
She raised her other hand, her fingers gently cupping Mingyue's chin to tilt her face toward a better angle under the moonlight.
“Don't squirm.”
Lightweaver lowered her head, using the moonlight filtering through the gaps in the ginkgo leaves to carefully wipe away the stubborn smudge with the wet wipe.
She could feel Mingyue's throat gently bobbing as she swallowed.
Mingyue held her breath, completely forgetting how to breathe.
Mingyue's pupils dilated slightly.
It felt as if she could count Lightweaver's eyelashes, and clearly see the reflections of the tree branches and her own dazed face in those eyes.
Every flutter of Lightweaver's eyelashes felt like a gentle brush against the very core of her heart.
Her gaze could not drift away from Lightweaver's face, nor did it need to.
Because Lightweaver was focused entirely on the bridge of her nose, wiping it clean bit by bit, completely oblivious to the fact that Mingyue was staring at her.
Mingyue suddenly felt a bit glad that she had gotten dirt on her face.
If not for this smudge, she would never have had the chance to be this close, nor could she have openly stared into Lightweaver's eyes for this long.
“Tilt your head up a little more,” Lightweaver said, gently nudging her chin.
Mingyue obediently lifted her face, letting the moonlight fall directly across the bridge of her nose.
With nowhere else to look, her gaze naturally settled on the slight furrow of Lightweaver's brow.
Lightweaver's expression was so earnest that it made Mingyue want to smile, but she couldn't.
Because her heart was beating far too fast.
Lightweaver's nose was less than a palm's width away from hers, and her breath gently brushed against her forehead.
Suddenly, that warmth receded.
“It's all clean,” Lightweaver said, lowering the wet wipe and tapping her own nose to indicate the spot on the bridge.
Mingyue remained in her tilted-up pose, taking a beat to register that Lightweaver was speaking to her.
She reflexively rubbed her nose with her finger, but her fingertip touched nothing but clean skin.
Rate on N.U.
