The next day, Hayato woke up feeling different. He hadn’t slept well, but it was better than the restless nights he’d endured in his own apartment. The nightmares still lingered, haunting the edges of his consciousness, but they had lessened, giving him a fleeting sense of relief. As he blinked away the last remnants of sleep, his eyes widened in shock—it was already late morning. The realization jolted him out of bed, his heart racing. He threw on some clothes and hurried outside, where the crisp morning air greeted him with a sharp bite. The farm was already alive with the sounds of activity—roosters crowing and the rhythmic clatter of hooves against the barn floor.

By the time Hayato reached the main yard, he found that most of the morning chores were already done. The cows were being herded into the pasture, and the barn doors creaked open, revealing neatly stacked hay bales. Spotting Hiroshi, who was busy fixing a loose fence post, Hayato approached with a sense of urgency.

"Is there anything I can help with?" Hayato asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Hiroshi looked up, his expression relaxed. "Just take it easy and enjoy your stay. We’ve got everything under control."

But Hayato wasn’t reassured. If I don’t contribute, they might kick me out, he thought, anxiety gnawing at him.

Before Hayato could protest further, Kazuo appeared, his voice hearty as he greeted them. "Good morning, boys! Breakfast is ready if you’re hungry."

Hayato hesitated, glancing at the nearly completed tasks around him. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked again, his voice more insistent.

Kazuo chuckled, clapping Hayato on the back. "I like your spirit, but don’t worry about it. You’re a guest here. No need to work yourself to the bone."

Nearby, Emiko’s bedroom was close enough for her to overhear the conversation. She stirred in bed, already in a sour mood as she caught snippets of their exchange. She groaned, pulling the covers over her head, hoping to drown out the voices she found so irritating.

Downstairs, the breakfast table was laden with food, waiting for Hayato and Emiko to join. Hayato sat down, the silence in the room heavy as he waited. Moments later, Emiko entered, her expression one of disdain. She moved with a deliberate slowness, as if to make it clear she was only there because she had to be.

"Good morning," Hayato greeted her, forcing a polite smile.

Emiko didn’t respond. She averted her gaze, taking the seat farthest from him at the table. The silence grew more awkward until Emiko finally broke it, her voice sharp. "I wonder what a parasite could possibly do to help."

Hayato stiffened at her words, feeling their sting. He didn’t respond, focusing instead on the food in front of him. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and the meal felt more like an obligation than a shared moment. Hayato finished quickly, eager to escape the uncomfortable silence.

"Can I clear the table?" Hayato offered, his voice tentative, hoping to ease the tension.

"Don’t worry about it. That’s my job. A parasite should only worry about being a parasite," Emiko shot back coldly.

Hayato left the table, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He could feel her eyes on him as he walked away, a mixture of contempt and frustration. It was a feeling he knew well—a sense of being unwanted, of not belonging.

The following morning, Hayato woke up much earlier, determined to prove himself useful. He headed to the barn, where he found Hiroshi already at work, feeding the animals and milking the cows.

"Let me help," Hayato insisted, stepping closer.

Hiroshi shook his head, keeping his tone light. "You don’t need to. Go back and rest."

But Hayato remained, watching Hiroshi closely as he worked, trying to memorize his every move. The routine seemed simple enough, but there was a rhythm to it—a cadence that came only from experience. Hiroshi found it odd that Hayato was so intent on learning, but he didn’t comment, choosing instead to focus on his tasks.

The next day, Hayato managed to wake up even earlier, determined to take on the tasks himself. He clumsily followed the routine he had observed—milking the cows, feeding the chickens, and tending to the pigs. The animals, unfamiliar with Hayato, were skittish at first, and he struggled with the work. The cows shuffled nervously as he approached, the chickens pecked at his boots, and the pigs snorted in displeasure. But Hayato pushed through, his determination outweighing the awkwardness of his efforts.

When Hiroshi arrived to start the chores, he was taken aback to see that most of the work was already done. He stood there for a moment, processing the scene. "What the…?"

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Hayato looked up from where he was sweeping the barn floor, sweat dripping from his brow. "Morning," he said, his voice strained.

For a brief moment, Hiroshi stared, processing the situation. Then, with a resigned sigh, he relented. "I see there’s no point in trying to convince you otherwise. Fine," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "But! We’ll split the tasks. The animals are still getting used to you, and if they weren’t so docile, you could’ve gotten hurt. You need to take it slow."

Hayato was surprised by the mild scolding and realized it was the first time he’d seen Hiroshi speak so seriously. He dropped to his knees, feeling chastened, and nodded in agreement. "I’m sorry," he mumbled.

Hiroshi’s expression softened. "No need to apologize. Just… don’t push yourself too hard."

And so, a routine was established. Hayato adapted well, learning the rhythm of farm life. The days blended together, each one marked by the steady progression of chores and the quiet satisfaction of a job well done. The animals grew more accustomed to his presence, and Hayato found a sense of peace in the simplicity of the work. Five months passed, and by then, Hayato was fully integrated into the farm’s daily operations. He moved with a confidence he hadn’t felt in a long time, his movements fluid and purposeful.

But there was still one person who hadn’t warmed up to him—Emiko. Hayato had learned to avoid her at all costs, adjusting his schedule to eat at different times and steer clear of any interaction. He knew better than to force a connection where none existed, and he was content to keep his distance.

But on this particular day, Emiko was watching him closely, her eyes narrowing as she followed his movements. She had been biding her time, waiting for the right moment to confront him when no one else was around. Her frustration had grown as she saw how Hayato had won over everyone else—Kazuo, Keiko, and even her brother, Hiroshi.

After lunch, when Hayato finished his meal and rose to leave, Emiko finally made her move. She stood in the doorway, blocking his path. Hayato, sensing her presence, averted his gaze and tried to slip past her without making eye contact. But she stepped in front of him, her stance aggressive.

"How much longer?" Emiko demanded, her voice low and dangerous.

Hayato looked up, confused. "How much longer what?"

"How much longer are you going to stay here? Wasn’t this supposed to be temporary? Why do I still have to see your face every day?" she spat, her words laced with disdain.

Hayato hesitated, searching for the right words. "I’m sorry… but my house…"

"Burned down? Do you really think I believed that obvious lie? Unlike my brother and grandparents, I’m not that naive," Emiko interrupted, her voice sharp.

"I…" Hayato started, but Emiko cut him off.

"Don’t bother trying to lie to me. You won’t fool me," she said, her eyes cold and piercing.

"I’m sor…" Hayato tried again, but her fierce glare silenced him. He could feel the weight of her anger pressing down on him, a suffocating force that left him feeling small and powerless.

"I’m tired of looking at your face," she declared, brushing past him with a harsh shoulder bump.

That night, Hayato was plagued by nightmares—visions of his guildmates’ deaths replaying in his mind. He tossed and turned, his sleep fitful and broken. I can’t keep living like this if things with Emiko don’t improve, he thought, waking up in a cold sweat. The darkness of the room felt oppressive, the silence only amplifying his anxiety.

The next day, he decided to confront the issue head-on. He asked Hiroshi to meet him in a secluded spot where they could talk privately.

"Do you know why your sister hates me?" Hayato asked, his voice low, barely more than a whisper.

Hiroshi sighed, having anticipated this conversation. "I figured it might be something like that when you asked to talk in private. You didn’t want anyone else to hear, right?"

Hayato nodded silently, his gaze fixed on the ground.

"Honestly, I don’t think she specifically hates you. I think she has something against anyone who isn’t part of her family. Some might even say she resents her own family a bit too," Hiroshi admitted with a wry smile.

Hayato looked puzzled. "But why? What did I do?"

Hiroshi leaned against a tree, thinking for a moment. "If I had to guess… I’d say it’s because you had the freedom she’s always wanted, and you chose to give it up."

Hayato’s confusion deepened. "What do you mean?"

"In short, she hates this place. If she could, she’d be in the city, going to college, living her own life—not stuck here. You did the opposite—you left the city and came here willingly. Deep down, that probably bothers her more than anything," Hiroshi explained, his voice thoughtful.

"But it’s not my fault… I didn’t choose this…" Hayato murmured, feeling a pang of guilt.

Hiroshi quickly shook his head. "I’m not blaming anyone. I know it’s not your fault. Even though you haven’t told me the reason you’re here or asked for help, I could tell it was something serious. You’ve always kept to yourself, refusing my invitations back when you lived in the city, and you never asked for help."

"I’m sorry," Hayato said, guilt weighing heavily on him. He felt the familiar sting of regret—regret for the distance he had created, for the opportunities he had missed.

Hiroshi waved off the apology. "No need to apologize. If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. Maybe I pushed too hard, and that’s why you distanced yourself back then."

"I wasn’t good with people… You had a lot of friends, and I only had you," Hayato admitted, his voice soft, almost inaudible.

Hiroshi smiled warmly. "I don’t hold any grudges."

Hayato looked away, feeling undeserving of such kindness. "I’ll tell you why I’m here. I just need a little more time."

"I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to talk," Hiroshi said, placing a reassuring hand on Hayato’s shoulder.

I don’t deserve a friend like him, Hayato thought, feeling a surge of gratitude. Not trusting himself to speak, he simply nodded, his heart heavy with emotions he couldn’t yet put into words.

"Thank you," he finally managed, his voice thick with unspoken emotion.

Hiroshi squeezed his shoulder, offering a smile that said more than words ever could. They stood there for a moment longer, the silence between them not awkward but comforting, a shared understanding that didn’t need to be voiced.

As Hayato returned to the farmhouse, the weight on his shoulders felt just a little bit lighter. But as he lay back on his bed that night, staring at the ceiling, he knew that the real challenges were still ahead.