It's been three years.

You've been to Wildkat. You've been to the Udagawa mural. You've been to Hachiko. For three years, with your friends, and with an open invitation extended. He's never been there to greet you.

A part of you knows he's probably watching from somewhere; he seems the type to hold onto his regrets, after all. But maybe it's presumptuous of you to assume he regrets.

Today, you're in a hurry to get home— work had pushed you into overtime, and you'd really been looking forward to relaxing tonight— but, as always, you take a detour so you can glance at Hachiko. The dog stands as proud as ever.

And Joshua stands there next to it. He's taller now, has filled out a bit more, but his smile is the same. "Fancy meeting you here."