The path to the shrine was quieter now.
No chimes danced in the wind like they used to. No spirits whispered past. Only the soft rustle of lavender and the crunch of old sandals on stone.
Riku, older now, silver in his beard, lines carved into his smile, paused at the foot of the hill. He stood still for a moment, breathing in the scent of wild blossoms and river mist. The air here always smelled like memory.
He climbed slowly, cane in hand, a basket swinging gently from his arm. Inside were a few peaches, a jar of tea, and a folded charm he had written the night before.
Just like Sensei used to do.Just like she used to do.
The shrine was smaller than he remembered, or maybe he was just taller now. The porch creaked as he stepped onto it, brushing his hand along the old wood. The same spot she used to sit every morning. Tail curled. Smile sleepy.
It had been years. But he still left offerings. Still kept the grounds clean. Still lit the lanterns on full moons, even if no spirits came through anymore.
They hadn't since she left.
He wasn't sure what kept him here, really. Maybe it was duty. Maybe it was grief. Maybe it was love. Or maybe it was the way she once looked back at him under that moonlit veil and said nothing... and somehow said everything.
He knelt at the old peach tree and laid the offering gently beneath its roots.
"For you. I didn't forget," he said softly. "Though you always hated how I cut the peaches."
He smiled a little, eyes wet.
Then something tugged at the corner of his sight.
Movement in the lavender.
He turned.
At first, he thought it was a trick of the light. A bloom too pale. A breeze too still. But then it moved again, slowly, drowsily, and unfurled into something small. Something soft.
A girl.
Barefoot. Curled up beneath a blanket of blossoms, like the shrine itself had grown around her. Her hair shimmered faintly, long and tangled, brushed with familiar colors. Fox ears twitched as she stirred. A single tail flicked, slow and sleepy.
She opened her eyes.
Violet. Wide. Wondering.
He didn't speak right away.
He just looked at her, heart suddenly too big in his chest.
She looked back. Silent. Curious.
Riku swallowed.
"Hey there," he said gently, kneeling down without thinking. "That's a funny place to nap, little one."
She blinked.
He chuckled, low and warm."I suppose you're lost."
The girl didn't answer.
"That's alright," he murmured, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief. "You're not the first."
Carefully, he brushed a bit of lavender from her cheek. Her ears twitched again, and her tail curled tighter around her legs.
"You remind me of someone I used to know," he added quietly. "She would've liked you, I think."
The girl's lips parted. Not to speak, just to breathe. To listen.
He sat down beside her, watching the sunlight fall gently through the trees.
"You don't have a name yet, do you?"
She didn't answer. But he could guess.
He looked up at the sky.
"I knew a girl once," he said. "She wasn't born with a name either. But one day, someone gave her one. She said it was a silly name. Said it didn't suit her."
He smiled, soft and full of something deep.
"But in the end... she liked it."
He looked back at the girl."Maybe you'll like it too."
She tilted her head.
He looked at her, smiled softly, and whispered the name.
"Yuzume."