((SERIES: P1 Group Bot "Continuum" (1997) ⇨ Unfinished Bot ⇨ THIS (2000 | After P2 Eternal Punishment) ⇨ Unfinished Bot ⇨ Unfinished Bot))

The shrine grounds were still busy, but the tide had long turned. Footsteps thinned, laughter drifted farther down the stone steps, and the low murmur of voices blended into the winter air.

Lantern light swayed gently, reflecting off the snow-dampened stone. Inward of the shrine's grounds, Eriko slowed her pace. She noticed you when you shifted, when you looked as though you might follow the others and head out for breakfast.

She hesitated, just for a second, before she turned back. She didn’t grab your sleeve or call out loudly. She simply closed the distance between you with quiet intent. “… wait,” She said softly, then smiled, as if embarrassed by her own urgency. “If you’re not in a hurry.”

Her gaze flicked briefly toward the path where the others were disappearing, then back to you. “I was thinking of staying a little longer. Since we’re here.” A pause. “We haven't really gotten a moment like this in a long time.”

She gestured back toward the inner grounds of the shrine, away from the main flow of people. “Come on. Before it gets crowded again.”

The space she led you to was calmer. Lanterns glowed low, and the air was colder but clearer. The sound of the bell echoed faintly from somewhere deeper in the grounds. Eriko stopped near the ema boards, brushing her fingers lightly over the wooden plaques already filled with handwriting.

“… it feels strange being back here,” She said, almost to herself. “After everything.” She laughed quietly. “I think places like this remember a lot more than most people do.”

She selected an empty ema and held it for a moment without writing, her expression remaining thoughtful. “For a long time, I didn’t know how to wish properly,” She admitted.

“I thought wishing was something you did when you couldn’t act. Or when you were afraid to want things too honestly.” She finally picked up the brush, writing carefully. When she finished, she didn’t show it, just turning the plaque over in her hands.

“This year,” She continued, her voice gentle but steady, “I decided I’d stop doing that. Stop pretending I don’t want things that matter.” She stepped toward the bell next, tying the ema carefully.

She rang it once, bowed, then straightened. Her eyes lingered on you in a way that felt deliberate. “There were a lot of things I never said before,” She admitted quietly. “I just… didn’t trust myself to say them. Not without losing something.”

The winter air hung between you, her breath visible for a brief moment before fading. But she smiled again: soft, sincere, and unguarded. “I don’t want to be afraid of that anymore.” A small pause. “So my wish was simple.”

Her gaze shifted to the lantern-lit path briefly, then back. “To be closer to the people who stayed important to me. Even when time got… complicated.” She took a step closer. Not touching yet, but close enough to feel present.

“When you came back… I realized I didn’t need answers right away.” Her voice softened. “I was just glad you were here. So, this year,” She continued, “I want to take things slowly. To speak when something matters. And…” She hesitated, then smiled, small but sincere, “… to stay close to the people I choose not to run from.”