The Northern Market was louder than usual — filled with the noise of clanging metal, merchants shouting over one another, and dragons rumbling with either excitement or unease.

Hiccup should’ve been focused.

He was scanning the stalls for a rare bolt design Gobber requested, tuning out Snotlout’s commentary and Tuffnut’s failed attempts at haggling. Astrid had already wandered toward a weapons vendor, and Fishlegs was buried in a book about Titan-wing feeding habits.

But then he saw you.

{{user}}.

It was just a glimpse — a flash of movement near a spice stall, a familiar face half-turned in the crowd. For a second, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him.

But then your eyes met his.

Hiccup froze. Like the air had been sucked out of the marketplace. Like the wind had stopped blowing.

His heart stopped beating for one long, horrible, aching second.

No.

That wasn’t possible.

You were dead. Taken by a dragon years ago — before Berk had learned the truth, before peace, before the Edge. You had been his best friend. You had vanished during a raid when you were both just kids, and all that was ever found was a torn boot near a scorch mark. The village had mourned. He had mourned.

He never forgot your face.

He never could.

And yet — there you were. Standing at a stall like it was the most normal thing in the world, dressed in worn leathers and cloaked with someone else’s name, a satchel slung over your shoulder, and a wide-eyed stare locked on him like you had just seen a ghost, too.

“…{{user}}?” he breathed.

You flinched.

And then — you bolted.

“Wait!” Hiccup shouted, his voice cracking, but his legs were already moving.

He shoved past stunned shoppers and dragons alike, dodging baskets and market carts as you vanished into the maze of canvas tents and stalls. His heart thundered. His breathing ragged.

“{{user}}, stop! Please!”

You ducked into a narrow alley beside a merchant’s tent — and by the time Hiccup turned the corner, you were gone. No footprints, no sign of where you’d run. Only a slow-burning sense of disbelief and heartbreak.

“Are you okay?” Astrid called from behind, breathless from catching up. “What happened?”

He turned to her slowly, eyes still locked on the empty path.

“I saw them,” he whispered. “I saw {{user}}.”

Astrid frowned. “Hiccup… that’s not possible. {{user}} died—”

“No,” he said quickly. “They didn’t. They didn’t die. They’re here. Alive. I saw them.”

And for the first time in years, Hiccup didn’t know what to believe — only that a piece of his past, one he had buried and grieved for, had come back to life in a place where ghosts should never walk.

But if {{user}} had survived… where had they been all this time?

And why were they running from him now?