Morning in Laterano always arrived in pastel tones.
The sun rose without haste, scattering its gentle light across marble pillars and bell towers.
Reflections danced off chapel windows, drawing soft patterns on the pristine cobblestone streets.
Today was a "praise day"—a school-free day meant for contemplation and reflection.
But for kids like Exu, Mostima, and Fiammetta, it meant something else entirely: time to play… and cause just the right amount of trouble.
"Let's go to the back hill," said Exu, tying her shoelaces at the foot of the steps.
Mostima sat lazily on the low fence nearby, her halo spinning slowly as if still half-asleep.
"They said we're not allowed to go there…"
"Which is exactly why it's fun," Exu grinned, patting her pants.
"What if we get caught?"
"Then we race each other to see who flies fastest—except you, Fi," she added, suddenly realizing how that might come off.
But Fiammetta just crossed her arms, standing tall as always.
"If I can't fly, then it's your job not to leave me behind."
Mostima shrugged. "You've got the best aim with rocks. We'll be fine."
The path to the hill climbed gradually, dotted with patches of wild grass and tiny white flowers growing between the stones.
They walked almost side by side—Exu in the center, Mostima strolling casually on the left, and Fiammetta keeping a slight distance on the right.
"Fi," Exu said suddenly, "You never talk about your family."
Fiammetta turned. "Because it's not interesting."
"I'm just curious. You're... different from us."
"Being different isn't a story," she replied quietly. "It's just a fact."
Exu frowned, but didn't push further.
Mostima glanced at Fiammetta, then picked up a small stone and tossed it at the ground ahead.
"Rock, paper, wings!" she suddenly shouted.
"K-paper!" Exu answered reflexively.
"...Wings?" Fiammetta said, puzzled.
They looked at each other—and burst into laughter.
"We never made any rules for this game," Exu said, settling onto a large rock. "But you lost, Fi. Go find us some wild fruit."
"What if it's poisonous?"
"Well... we all know which of us handles poison best," Mostima said with a smirk.
Fiammetta didn't take offense. She just nodded and walked toward the shaded part of the hill.
Exu and Mostima sat together in silence for a while.
"I like this place," Exu said eventually. "The sky feels... bigger."
Mostima looked up at the clouds. "The sky is big. But not all of it is visible. Some parts are… hidden."
Exu stayed quiet. She knew Mostima had a habit of saying strange things, but lately… it was becoming more frequent.
"If we fly high enough, maybe we'll see it better?" she said half-joking.
"But there are things we're not meant to see," Mostima murmured.
Exu turned quickly. "Mostima?"
The girl looked at her. Her eyes were blank, but clear.
"Sometimes, I hear voices. Very faint. Like... from behind a pane of glass."
"…You're just tired, right?" Exu smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
Mostima returned a soft smile. "Maybe. But being with you two... makes the voices feel further away."
Fiammetta returned, carrying three small dark-purple fruits.
She tossed one to Exu, one to Mostima, and sat down without a word. Her face was as unreadable as ever—but there was a faint scratch on her left hand.
"Got caught by a branch?" Exu asked, moving closer.
"It's nothing."
"Here." Exu tore a small strip from her shirt and gently wrapped it around the wound. "So it won't get dirty."
Fiammetta watched her quietly—Exu's face was focused, her tongue slightly sticking out in concentration.
"You're always like that," Fiammetta murmured.
"Like what?"
"Caring. But... not for anyone in particular."
Exu blinked. "What do you mean?"
"...It's nothing."
Mostima watched them in silence. Her blue eyes narrowed slightly, then drifted back to the sky.
The day wore on.
They threw stones, chased cloud shadows, and named the strange shapes drifting above.
By the time they headed back, the sun had slipped behind Laterano's towers. The streets were growing quiet, and the chapel bells rang faintly in the distance.
Fiammetta walked in front now. Mostima trailed behind.
Exu stayed in the middle, watching their shadows stretch across the stone path.
"Fi," she said gently, moving closer. "Have you ever felt... alone?"
Fiammetta stopped. "Every day."
Exu paused.
"But it's not anyone's fault," Fiammetta added. "It's just how the world reshapes itself. Some are born with halos. Some aren't. Some can fly. Some can only stand."
"…If I could give you wings, I'd—"
"Don't," Fiammetta cut her off quickly. "If you did that… you wouldn't be you anymore."
Mostima, hearing every word, stopped in her tracks.
Her face was unreadable.
That night, Exu sat in her room, staring at her halo.
She twirled her fingers beneath its soft glow, then opened her window to the starry sky above.
"Rock... paper... wings, huh?"
She smiled faintly.
And in the quiet corner of her heart—one she didn't yet know how to name—she began to realize:
One day, she might have to choose.
But not today.
Because tonight, the Laterano sky still felt warm.
And she could still hear the echoes of their laughter—
faint, fleeting…
but real.