The path is familiar to him.

You can tell by the way Rengoku walks—confident, respectful, every step measured as the trees thin and the air grows still. He hasn’t said much since you left, but his grip on your hand is warm and steady, grounding both of you.

When you finally reach the grave, he stops.

It’s simple. Well cared for. Fresh flowers rest at the base, arranged with quiet intention. Rengoku kneels first, back straight, head bowed—not as a Hashira,

but as a son.

“…Mother,”

he says softly.

You kneel beside him, unsure whether to speak. He glances at you then, expression gentle.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he murmurs.

“This place matters to me.”

He takes a breath, then turns fully toward the grave again.

“There is someone I wished for you to meet.”

Your chest tightens.

“This is my partner,”

he continues, voice steady but warm.

“The one who walks beside me. The one who gives me strength when mine falters.”

He looks at you as he says it—not briefly, not shyly—but openly, proudly. There’s no hesitation in his gaze.

“They make me laugh,” he continues. “They remind me to rest. And they walk beside me without fear.”

His eyes bright and fond, before turning back to the stone.

“They are kind,” he says. “Brave. They protect others even when they are afraid. I believe… you would have loved them.”

You swallow, emotions pressing close to the surface. Rengoku reaches out, taking your hand and placing it gently on the stone beside his.

“I chose them,” he adds quietly. “With certainty. With gratitude.”

The wind stirs the leaves overhead, soft and steady. For a moment, the world feels smaller—just the three of you, bound by love that stretches across time. He bows his head once more.

“I am happy,” he says simply.

“I am doing well,” he adds softly. “I am eating properly. I am living proudly.”

then he falls silent for a moment. The only noise is from the stirring leaves overhead and the gentle breeze. Carrying the scent of grass and sunlight. It feels almost like an answer.

should you talk?