Ugly Fourteen: Snow Falls
Snow fell, swirling on the wind and gradually blanketing the streets until the whole world turned white. On just such a day, Asha and I found ourselves amid the soft piles of snow accumulating on the road. Even though she'd said she didn't want to go out because it was cold, she'd dragged me out anyway—and now here she was, the first to squat down and start fiddling with the snow.
Squatting right there in the middle of the street, she packed it without a care for her freezing hands. I could see her diligently molding the snow.
"Mm, it's cold."
She was clearly saying it was cold, yet her expression held that familiar faint blankness. She pressed it down—pack, pack—into a round snowball, set it on the ground, and rolled it to make it bigger.
"Ain, why are you just standing there? Hurry up and make one."
"...It's cold."
Her voice pulled me in, forcing even me—who'd only been watching—to roll another snowball along the ground.
"We promised to make it together. You're not gonna back out after just saying you would, right?"
"..."
She'd gotten so much better lately—her words came out clear and deliberate, even more precise than mine sometimes.
"I believe Ain isn't a liar."
"...Got it. Fine."
And so, once again, I gave in to her. With a beaming smile, she rolled her snowball with obvious delight, and I followed suit, pushing mine along behind her.
The snow was cold. My hands stung where they touched the white, fluffy mass, so I'd roll it a bit, shake them off, roll a little more, shake them off again. I couldn't fathom how she kept at it without a break.
She watched me for a moment, then tilted her head and came closer.
"Ain, cold?"
"No, I just said it was a minute ago..."
She grabbed my hand and rubbed it against her cheek.
"My face is warm. Right?"
"..."
Pressing my hands to her cheeks like that, she looked so cute—gazing at me with those slightly vacant eyes, her lips puckering out under the pressure as she mumbled. I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Not warm enough? Then maybe inside here..."
"No, no. It's plenty warm."
"This would be even warmer, though?"
"...I'm good. So please, for the love of god, don't try to take your clothes off."
Everyone—even the stray dogs passing by—knew instinctively how warm it was in there. But she needed to learn some common sense beyond just not knowing.
Sure, I'd bathed her when she was little, but now she was a full-grown woman. And the one who'd end up in trouble was me.
A little time passed, and finally, something resembling a snowman took shape. The body and head were weirdly the same size, the tree-branch arms stuck in sloppily. It was still missing a face, looking all forlorn, but she gazed at it with a bright smile.
"Ain, it's ugly."
"How do you know? We haven't made the face yet."
"Oh, then it must be ugly."
Even if her laughter was at the snowman's expense, she clearly loved what we'd made together. She ran over—pat pat pat—and hugged it gently.
I called quietly to her.
"Asha."
"Yeah, Ain?"
With winter lasting this long, the snowman would stand guard in front of the grocery all season. Best to make it obvious it came from the shop.
"Can you sneak inside the store and grab a carrot and a handful of black beans without Uncle noticing?"
"Got it. Wait just a sec."
Topping it off with groceries would be the proper finishing touch for a snowman done right.
"Grab 'em quick and bolt, Asha."
"Yeah, don't worry."
She flashed a big smile and slipped inside.
And then—
"Ain, you damn brat!"
A booming shout erupted from within moments later. Of course she couldn't dodge Uncle's eyes. Truth be told, I hadn't told her, but getting caught was part of my plan. It'd drag even Uncle—who'd been holed up inside complaining of the cold—out here.
The door swung open again, and as expected, two people emerged.
"Caught a thief trying to steal groceries. What do you think, Ain?"
One was the bearded Uncle, who'd had zero interest in joining our snowman project.
"Sorry, Ain. Failed the sneak mission."
The other was the woman, dangling from his hand with a carrot and handful of black beans clutched to her chest.
I grinned and replied.
"It's fine. Good job, Asha. And Uncle, now that you're out, lend a hand. Looks better if all three of us made it."
I told him it was payback for playing dumb and spectating while she dragged me out into the cold.
"Hey, it's almost done. I could just finish it up and head back in."
"Not fair if I'm the only one freezing out here."
"What, you little punk?"
Of course it wasn't fair for Uncle to lounge warm inside alone. Winter cold didn't halve just because you shared it, but still—might as well suffer together, make some memories in the process.
I beckoned to the woman still dangling there.
"Asha, give Uncle the beans and bring 'em over."
"Here, Uncle—take these and head over there."
She handed him the beans, then pointed at me while still hanging.
"Hey, you two... At my age, the cold goes right to my knees..."
I ignored his sigh, naturally. With the stamina to father a new kid recently, no excuses about creaky knees. Plus, he could dangle a full-grown woman one-handed without breaking a sweat.
And so our three-person snowman was complete. Still sloppy, its carrot-and-bean face comically lopsided. We gathered around it, then burst out laughing.
Uncle teased that he'd never seen such an ugly snowman. She nodded along, agreeing it was definitely ugly. I couldn't deny it either, just scratched the back of my head sheepishly.
But this was about building new memories. My first decision: stack them up before I climbed into a carriage as an adult and left. It had started as a passing thought while poring over Idrin's gray magic research, but memories weren't just for Asha.
They were for the gray-haired woman staring blankly at me, but also for Uncle ruffling our hair.
It was tainted a bit by my desire to leave something—anything—behind for those who'd stay. And for me, setting off on my journey.
Because I'd thought of them as nothing more than characters, devoid of real feeling. I'd declared I'd go on my own trip, separate from the novel's plot—but that bravado had shifted form.
I couldn't find the old me anymore, the one who passed by indifferently, observing like a bystander. Now everything got under my skin.
Even with the journey demanding all my focus, my gaze kept drifting sideways, backward. It wasn't just Asha's story. It could be Uncle Rendo's, who'd employed me all this time; Rini's at the training hall; Yansen's at the adventurer's shop; Idrin's ongoing research at the library.
And my parents', always cheering me on. Mom and Dad were preparing for their only son's farewell with smiles.
So that's why. My eyes kept wandering to all of it, and these memories were my way of steeling myself against that.
Lost in those thoughts, staring blankly, a voice called me.
"Ain, remake it?"
"Kid, maybe smash it and make a prettier one."
Two voices, one aiming a shovel at the snowman.
I answered.
"Nah, it's the ugly snowman for this year. Next year, let's make a handsome one."
Talking up next year's memories already.
"If that's how you want it, fine. Asha, you okay with that?"
"So we make another next year?"
She grinned at them and nodded.
The ugly snowman would stand watch in front of the grocery all winter—unless it melted—claiming its corner of the scenery. As another memory.
I quietly called to Asha, who was heading inside.
"Asha."
"Yeah, Ain?"
It was time. Time for my second decision.
"Wanna walk a bit?"
"...Yeah. Sure."
I watched her trot back to me with a smile. The end of my fourteenth year approached too. Deep into winter, breaths fogging the air—the reason I called her to walk was simple.
With less than a month left in the year, glancing back at our snowman, I finally recalled Uncle's words from long ago.
He'd asked when I planned to tell her about leaving. It was right at the start of my fourteenth spring—nearly ten months ago now.
And I still hadn't told her about the trip.
If asked why not yet, I'd have no better excuse than I'd been agonizing over how to do it.
Every day—really every day—I'd read the gray magic research from Idrin. Putting aside language books, clinging to it in hopes it'd hold a painless way to break the news.
For a fool like me, who couldn't think of anything, it felt like a signpost.
But no matter how many times I read it, there was nothing on avoiding hurt. People's hearts weren't in research books.
Human bonds had limits you couldn't study your way past—and I knew that, yet I clung to books until winter came.
Like an idiot.
And now, with an innocent face, she asked.
"Ain, where to?"
"...The alley after a while?"
"Yeah, good idea."
She beamed, gripped my hand tight, and took the lead toward the alley like it was second nature.
It wasn't far. Even strolling, it'd take maybe ten minutes—so before I could calm my nerves, we stepped into the familiar scene.
What do I say? How?*
That was all I'd thought about, but even as she turned back to me, I hadn't decided.
"Ain."
She called, her emotion slipping out despite her more composed speech and actions—brushing my hand lightly.
"...Yeah."
I could predict the rest. She'd fidget, shoulders twitching like she couldn't wait to talk, lips slowly curving up.
Asha always approached me that way, consistently.
But.
"If you don't wanna say it, you don't have to."
"What...?"
Her words, her expression, her actions—they were all different. Filled with things I'd never imagined.
Not knowing what I meant to say, she still called it okay like a fool.
"If it's worry over me, do what you want."
"...How do you know what it is and say it's fine?"
She gently clutched my clothes, smiling softly—unusually so.
Then she said what I'd hesitated over.
"The trip."
"..."
In other words, she already knew.
"It's okay to go, Ain."
"..."
I couldn't guess when she'd figured it out, but she smiled calmly despite knowing. Her upturned lips quivered faintly; her grip on my clothes tightened. A hint of gray swirled.
She was shaken, clearly.
"Ain, I can wait."
"..."
Yet her words came out clear and steady.
I was speechless.
Couldn't think what to say, just stared at her, more dazed than ever.
And then her words continued.
"I thought about it every night. I knew about the trip long ago, but I'm still dumb and childish—it took me forever."
Her hidden feelings poured out, filling the alley.
"I wished you wouldn't leave my side, that you'd stay with me forever. And if you had to go, take me too."
She'd wrestled with the same worries, saying it with an unknowable smile.
"But Ain, after agonizing so long, I only had one answer."
Her face was bitterly wry.
"I know how people see gray. And I am gray. You and Uncle accepted me, but almost no one else would."
Now sorrow filled her expression.
"If I held you back, you'd say it's fine—but would it really be?"
Then it shifted to something I couldn't read.
"Would I even help your journey? If I tagged along, wouldn't I just drag you down?"
It kept changing.
"Then I couldn't be a good girl. I have to stay your good girl. I don't want to be bad to you, of all people."
Her face twisted over and over.
"Every night, I thought about it—really long and hard. If I did what I wanted... I couldn't stay the good person you said I was."
She bit her lip, holding something back, and looked up at me.
"So. I don't want to be the bad person making you give up your dream. Or hurt you. I want to be good, Ain."
"..."
"I'm okay, Ain. I can wait."
Gray snow piled on the alley floor. Ash swirled like her emotions, mixing into it and scattering.
And in that scene, the woman smiled maturely.
Gray.
"I'm okay."
Dull gray snow.
"Ain."
It swirled through the alley for a long time.