The northern village was small.

  Fewer than a dozen homes, all made of pale stone and red tile. Children played in the mud near the well. A goat wandered the main road. The wind carried the scent of wet leaves and boiled rice.

  Yuki stood at the entrance with the map in one hand and the weight of ten years in the other.

  Aoi said nothing.

  He took a breath.

  And walked in.

  She was in the garden behind the herbalist’s shop.

  Kneeling in the dirt, sleeves rolled up, a smear of green on her cheek. She was humming — low, tuneless, but not unhappy.

  Her hair was shorter now. Her posture calmer. Her hands moved with practiced grace.

  She looked up as the bell above the back gate rang.

  Their eyes met.

  Yuki stopped walking.

  Rin tilted her head.

  Something flickered across her face. A twitch of recognition, a heartbeat of memory… then faded.

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  She smiled politely.

  “Can I help you?”

  Yuki’s throat closed.

  He stepped forward. “Your name… is Rin, isn’t it?”

  She nodded, still kneeling. “That’s what they call me, yes.”

  “You live here?”

  “For five years now.” Her tone was gentle. “Before that… it’s a bit of a blur.”

  Yuki knelt in front of her. “Do you remember a boy? From the city. The train. The sunflowers?”

  Her gaze faltered — just for a second.

  Then steadied. “I have dreams sometimes. A boy who used to write in a notebook. But they always end before I see his face.”

  Aoi stood at the garden edge, silent.

  Rin leaned forward, touching Yuki’s hand lightly.

  “I don’t know you,” she said softly. “But I feel like I almost do. Isn’t that strange?”

  Tears pricked at the corners of Yuki’s eyes. “Not strange at all.”

  That night, they stayed in the village.

  Yuki sat with Rin beneath a sky full of stars, telling her stories — of how they met, of Shirou’s maps, of the Hollow.

  She listened without interrupting, as if every word was a stone filling a shape she’d forgotten was hollow.

  And when he finished, she said:

  “I want to remember. Even if it hurts.”

  Yuki took her hand.

  “Then we’ll remember together.”

  Aoi watched from the inn’s window, a quiet smile on her lips.

  She wasn’t jealous.

  Not even sad.

  She had walked with Yuki to this point not to win him — but to bring him back to himself.

  That… was enough.

  And maybe, just maybe, her chapter wasn’t ending.

  Just… turning a page.