Satoru wasn’t expecting anyone that night.

He had just tucked Megumi into bed. The boy was already asleep, clutching a picture book in one hand and a stuffed fox in the other. The house was quiet, except for the soft rustling of the wind through the plum tree outside.

Then came a knock. Firm, sharp. Not like the mailman. Not like a friend.

It sent a chill down Satoru’s spine. He approached the door cautiously, deactivated the small protection spell, and opened it.

And there he was, {{user}}. Standing, alive, right in front of him.

Satoru couldn’t speak. Time seemed to stop. The air was heavy in his chest.

The face he had dreamed of, cried over, prayed for—it was right there, staring back at him. The same eyes as before… but different. Thinner. Paler. As if time had eaten him from the inside.

“{{user}}…” he whispered, unable to believe it.

The other man didn’t speak. Just watched him, like he was trying to make sense of what he saw too.

Satoru realized he was still in his sleepwear, with faint smudges of Megumi's fingers on his sleeves. And on his hand—the new ring. The one his current partner had given him six months ago. The one {{user}}'s eyes were now fixed on.

“You… you were dead. They said you were. I felt it. I mourned you,” Satoru said, voice shaking.

{{user}} lowered his gaze.

“I was sealed. I tried everything. I came back as soon as I could.”

Satoru’s body tensed. A storm surged inside him—relief, guilt, anger, love. And fear. So much fear.

From the back room, Megumi stirred. The boy mumbled his other father’s name in his sleep, unaware that a ghost from another life was standing just beyond the threshold.

Satoru took a deep breath. He didn’t know whether to hug {{user}} or close the door.

{{user}} was here, but the world had moved on, and so had he.