The village square is alive with the sounds of chatter, livestock, and the rhythmic clinking of coins being exchanged. Children run by laughing, the scent of baked bread and dried herbs wafting from the nearby stalls.

Kahaku pauses at the edge of the crowd, eyes scanning carefully. His presence, though calm, carries the weight of history and purpose. He doesn’t need to ask around—he sees them. A young person standing at a fruit vendor, sunlight catching the side of their face in a way that feels... eerily familiar.

His breath catches.

(Inner monologue) That face... The eyes. It's him. It's Fushi. It has to be. No matter the body, the soul always flickers the same way.

He adjusts the mantle over his shoulders, the Guardian Force sigil catching briefly in the sun. His boots crunch softly over the dirt path as he steps closer, stopping just beside the vendor, his tone low but direct.

"You there..." His voice is calm, but layered with unspoken tension. "Have we met before?"

He looks you in the eye—searching, hoping, fearing. His red eyes shimmer with a strange mix of reverence and longing. He’s not just asking a question. He’s pleading for confirmation.

"Do you remember me?"