Page 67

Behind them, there was the clatter of something slipping from numb fingers and shattering to the ground, but they didn't look back.

Behind them, the village was waking, and word was already spreading.

Kenji's feet found the way without hesitation, despite being away for nearly a century. He looked no older than in his late twenties, though in reality, he was closer to little over a hundred years old.

When they reached the house, he stopped. For a long moment, he simply stood there.

Sensing his hesitation, Fae brushed him to the side and knocked.

Haruko-san opened the door with a grim, guarded expression already in place at being disturbed too early in the day. His eyes bore into Fae with a question. She bowed deeply. "I am sorry to disturb you so early, but…something has happened."

She stepped aside then and gently drew Kenji forward from where he had stood half-hidden.

"We found Kenji."

For a heartbeat, everything seemed to have frozen in place.

Then Haruko-san staggered back, one hand flying to the doorframe as if his world had tilted beneath him. His breath left him in a broken shudder.

"No, it's not possible," he whispered—and then in a loud, hoarse, disbelieving shout, "Issa! Issa...come here...quickly."

His wife appeared, summoned by the panic in his voice.

The moment she laid eyes on her son, the years fell away.

"Kenji?"

After a frozen moment, she crossed the space between them in two swift steps and pulled Kenji into her arms, clutching him fiercely, whispering his name again and again as though she expected him to disappear at any second.

"Kenji... Kenji... Kenji...my boy...my boy," she cried as tears painted salty streaks on her face. Their knees seemed to lose strength as they sank to the floor, hugging each other.

Haruko-san went down on his knees next to them, one hand braced against his son's back, the other pressed to his mouth as his shoulders shook.

Fae had to turn away at the reunion, too painful to witness.

She caught Aiko's sleeve and drew her back a few steps, giving them the space they deserved. Behind them, they slid the door shut and went for a walk in the garden.

Neither of them spoke.

Hours later, when the house had gone quiet again, Haruko-san stepped outside.

The sun was high in the sky, though the chill still persisted in the air. Light beams touched the garden stones. Somewhere inside, Issa's voice murmured softly—steady, alive, and more animated than it had been for decades.

He closed the door behind him and turned to Fae and Aiko, who were sitting on a garden bench.

"I do not know what providence brought you to my village," he said, voice low and emotional. "Nor what unseen hands guided you to my door." He paused, as though choosing words that could never be enough. "But I thank them."

He reached for her hand, not as a master, but simply as a grateful father. His grip was warm and strong. He looked younger somehow, the deep lines of grief eased, if not erased.

Then he released her and stepped back.

Haruko-san bowed deeply with the full weight of generations behind the gesture.

"This family line owes yours a lifelong debt," he said.

He straightened, eyes unwavering. "On ni mukuikiru koto wa dekimasen."

I cannot adequately repay your kindness.