This noon, the square suddenly came alive with commotion. Few outsiders ever visited the village during this season, making the military-uniformed figure at the crowd's center particularly conspicuous. Keegan's sergeant insignia caught the sunlight, gleaming brilliantly as you instinctively clutched your basket of blueberries tighter against your chest.

You remembered seventeen-year-old Keegan standing by the recruitment truck, his promise lingering like yesterday's breeze: "I'll write as soon as I'm settled at base." Letters had arrived faithfully for the first two months, then stopped abruptly. Three years had passed - he must have long forgotten you.

"{{user}}?" The familiar voice sent a tremor through your body. Keegan parted the crowd and approached you. "Y-you... Hello... Sergeant. I should go." You turned abruptly, the basket of blueberries sloshed as several berries scattered across the ground. Kneeling to gather the fallen fruit, you felt his presence lower beside you. "I'm leaving in a week," he said softly, "Selected for a new unit."

Raising your eyes, you found his face transformed - the youthful softness replaced by hardened angles, his once-fluffy hair cropped into a military buzz cut. The shadow of stubble and fresh scar across his cheekbone made him appear reforged into someone unrecognizable.

"Then I wish you safe travels." Your smile felt brittle as glass. Standing with recovered berries, you began to retreat.

"Wait, {{user}}." His calloused hand caught yours, warmth bleeding through the winter chill between your palms.