Haruto slept.
At least—
he assumed he did.
There weren't dreams.
No strange visions.
No voices.
Just—
a gap.
One moment sitting.
The next opening his eyes.
Dark.
Cold.
Belial nearby.
Nothing unusual.
Haruto sat up slowly.
His back hurt.
His shoulders felt stiff.
His hands felt normal.
He looked down.
Nothing.
No glow.
No marks.
No warmth.
He exhaled.
"…okay."
Belial opened one eye.
"…morning?"
Haruto looked upward.
The sky looked exactly the same.
"…sure."
Belial closed its eye again.
That felt fair.
Haruto stood.
Stretched.
Paused.
His expression stayed still.
His hand slowly moved to his sleeve.
Touched it.
Cold.
Normal.
He nodded once.
Good.
He looked around.
The remains of the fire were gone.
No ash.
No black marks.
No signs.
Just sand.
Like nothing happened.
Haruto crouched.
Touched the ground.
Cold.
Normal.
He stared.
Then quietly—
"…that's rude."
Belial opened both eyes.
"…what?"
Haruto looked at the empty ground.
"…I made that."
Belial stared.
Then sat up.
Looked.
Nothing.
Belial blinked.
"…oh."
Haruto stood.
Looked around.
No trace.
No proof.
Just empty desert.
He stayed quiet.
Then shrugged.
"…whatever."
Belial watched him.
Haruto started walking.
Belial followed.
The silence stayed.
After a while—
Belial asked—
"…does it bother you?"
Haruto looked ahead.
"…what?"
Belial lowered its head slightly.
"…that it disappeared."
Haruto thought.
Then shrugged.
"…a little."
A pause.
"…but I knew it would."
Belial nodded.
Then quietly—
"…that's different."
Haruto glanced over.
Belial kept walking.
"…expecting something to end isn't the same as wanting it to."
Haruto looked forward again.
Didn't answer.
The desert stretched.
Wind.
Heat.
Distance.
Normal.
Then—
Haruto slowed.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Belial noticed.
"…what?"
Haruto didn't answer.
He looked ahead.
Then down.
Then ahead again.
Belial looked.
Nothing.
Haruto stopped.
Belial stopped too.
Haruto stared.
"…do you smell that?"
Belial blinked.
Looked around.
Silence.
Then—
"…what?"
Haruto frowned.
Looked again.
Then quietly—
"…smoke."
Belial froze.
Haruto turned.
Looked behind.
Nothing.
Just desert.
No fire.
No ash.
No glow.
But—
he could smell it.
Weak.
Dry.
Like burnt wood.
His expression stayed calm.
He turned back.
Walked.
The smell remained.
Not stronger.
Not weaker.
Belial looked at him.
"…Haruto."
Haruto nodded.
"…yeah."
Belial stared.
"…you smell something."
Haruto nodded again.
Belial stayed quiet.
Then:
"…stop."
Haruto stopped.
The smell remained.
Belial slowly walked around him.
Looked.
Nothing.
Haruto stayed still.
Belial stopped.
Looked at his sleeve.
Its ears lowered.
Haruto noticed.
"…what?"
Belial stared.
Then looked away.
Too late.
Haruto saw.
Belial quietly asked—
"…did you sleep on this side?"
Haruto looked.
Right sleeve.
Normal.
He frowned.
Touched it.
Nothing.
Then—
warm.
His hand stopped.
Warm.
Not hot.
Not dangerous.
Just—
slightly warmer than the other side.
Haruto stared.
Belial looked away.
Haruto quietly said—
"…that's annoying."
Belial nodded immediately.
Too immediately.
Haruto looked at it.
Belial stayed quiet.
Haruto looked at his sleeve.
Thought.
Then—
he rolled it up.
Nothing.
Skin.
Normal.
Cold.
Warm sleeve.
Cold arm.
He stared.
Then looked at Belial.
"…explain."
Belial stared.
Then slowly said—
"…I can't."
Silence.
Haruto looked forward.
Then down.
Then quietly asked—
"…when people stayed at warm places…"
Belial became very still.
Haruto continued.
"…did they take warmth with them?"
Belial didn't answer.
That was enough.
Haruto looked ahead.
Started walking.
Belial followed.
After a while—
Haruto asked—
"…what happened?"
Belial stayed quiet.
Long enough.
Then—
"…they stopped making new fires."
Haruto looked over.
Belial didn't.
"…because they didn't need to."
Silence.
Haruto looked at his sleeve.
Warm.
Not changing.
He looked ahead.
Then quietly said—
"…that sounds efficient."
Belial stopped walking.
Haruto noticed.
Looked back.
Belial stared at him.
Then quietly—
"…that's what they said too."
Neither moved.
The wind passed.
Cold.
Except—
for one sleeve.
Haruto looked at it.
Then started walking again.
And for the first time—
he wondered—
if making warmth
and carrying warmth
were actually
two different things.