You found him standing on the edge of a cliff, the wind tugging at the edges of his cloak. He hadn’t noticed you yet—or maybe he had and just didn’t care to acknowledge it. That was his thing, wasn’t it? Acting detached while his gaze said otherwise.

Wanderer didn’t turn around when he spoke.

—“So… you followed me. Again.”

You didn’t reply. The sand crunched under your boots as you walked closer, stopping beside him.

The sky was clearing. Sumeru spread out beneath you, vast and green. A calm contrast to the storm that had just passed. A lot like him, really—chaos, then silence.

—“I never asked for anyone to stay,” he murmured, eyes still locked on the horizon. “And yet…”

His voice trailed off, the wind carrying it like a secret not meant to be heard.

You placed something in his hand. He looked down—confused. It was a small, imperfect origami bird. The same kind he’d once shown you how to fold, claiming it was stupid and pointless. But he’d still made one that day. And now you had returned it.

—“…You remembered.”

His fingers tightened just slightly around it, and something in his expression softened—just for a second.

—“I thought forgetting was easier,” he muttered. “Lighter. But maybe…”

He turned to face you, his gaze piercing, vulnerable in a way that made the air feel thinner.

—“Maybe carrying something… someone… isn’t such a burden.”

He didn’t reach for your hand. But he didn’t walk away either.