Sakura sat down.
Not because she wanted to.
Because her legs had stopped cooperating.
The shade of the great tree suddenly felt very small.
Very quiet.
Very unreal.
Across from her, Abel opened his notebook.
Then immediately closed it again.
Even he seemed to realize that this was not the correct moment for note-taking.
For once.
Progress.
Sakura took a slow breath.
Then another.
Six months.
The number kept repeating in her head.
Six months.
Not years.
Not some distant trace left behind by history.
Six months.
That meant Haruto wasn't a legend.
Wasn't a ghost.
Wasn't a story.
He was a person who had been standing here half a year ago.
Under this very tree.
Looking at the same water.
Breathing the same air.
The realization hit harder than she expected.
Because for years she had searched for proof.
Now she had it.
And somehow that felt even more overwhelming.
Abel watched her quietly.
Then asked:
"You know him."
Not a question.
A statement.
Sakura laughed softly.
"Is everyone in this world incapable of asking questions?"
The boy frowned.
"I just wasn't uncertain."
Fair enough.
Annoying.
But fair enough.
After a moment, she nodded.
"Yes."
Abel adjusted his glasses.
"Family?"
The answer should have been simple.
Yet for some reason, Sakura found herself staring at the oasis before responding.
"My husband."
The words felt strange.
Not because they were wrong.
Because they were still true.
Even after death.
Even after worlds.
Even after years apart.
Haruto was still her husband.
Abel blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then a third time.
Apparently he had not been expecting that answer.
"Your husband?"
"Yes."
The boy became very quiet.
Thinking.
Processing.
Calculating.
Sakura could practically hear the gears turning.
Eventually he nodded.
"That explains several things."
"What things?"
"The way you're looking at the sketch."
Fair.
"The way you reacted when I mentioned him."
Also fair.
"The way you've walked past three opportunities to sit down since arriving."
Sakura frowned.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"I don't know."
Abel admitted.
"I just thought it was strange."
Never mind.
The scholar disease was terminal.
The conversation paused.
A breeze rustled the leaves overhead.
The water of the oasis shimmered softly.
Peaceful.
Almost enough to forget how hard her heart was beating.
Almost.
Then Abel spoke again.
"He was looking for someone too."
Sakura froze.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
She looked up.
"What?"
The boy nodded.
"As far as I could tell."
The world suddenly narrowed.
Just those words.
Nothing else.
"He mentioned a woman."
Abel frowned thoughtfully.
Trying to remember.
"He never used a name."
Her heart skipped.
"But he carried something."
Sakura leaned forward.
"What?"
Abel pointed toward her bag.
Specifically toward the velvet pouch hidden inside.
"He had a necklace."
The air left her lungs.
The pouch.
The pair of necklaces.
One for her.
One for him.
The ones the Archivist had given her.
A strange warmth spread through her chest.
Not because it confirmed anything.
Because it felt like another thread connecting them.
A coincidence.
Or perhaps something more.
Abel continued.
"He asked strange questions."
Sakura laughed.
"That sounds like him."
The boy nodded seriously.
"I thought so too."
That made absolutely no sense.
But she appreciated the effort.
"What kind of questions?"
Abel thought for a moment.
Then answered.
"'If someone was searching for you, where would they start?'"
Silence.
Sakura stared.
Because that sounded exactly like Haruto.
Not practical.
Not direct.
Just strange enough to be memorable.
The boy continued.
"'Can people miss someone they've never met?'"
Another pause.
"'Do you think memories have weight?'"
Sakura closed her eyes.
A smile appeared despite herself.
Those were Haruto questions.
Not normal questions.
Not useful questions.
Haruto questions.
The kind that appeared at two in the morning and somehow turned into an hour-long conversation.
When she opened her eyes again, Abel was watching her.
"You miss him."
The statement was quiet.
Gentler than his previous observations.
Sakura nodded.
"There hasn't been a day I haven't."
The oasis fell silent once more.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Abel reached into his satchel.
He pulled out a folded piece of paper.
Old.
Carefully preserved.
Sakura immediately recognized the look.
Someone had kept that for a reason.
The boy handed it over.
"He left this."
Her fingers trembled slightly as she accepted it.
The paper felt familiar.
The texture.
The weight.
The way it had been folded.
All familiar.
Her heart pounded.
Slowly, carefully, she unfolded it.
It wasn't a letter.
It wasn't a message.
It wasn't even words.
It was a sketch.
A simple charcoal drawing.
A woman sitting beneath a tree.
Reading a book.
Her face wasn't detailed.
The features were unfinished.
Yet Sakura knew immediately.
Not because of the drawing.
Because of the tiny note written beneath it.
Just four words.
Written in handwriting she would recognize anywhere.
**Still looking for you.**
For several seconds, the world disappeared.
The oasis.
The tree.
The desert.
Everything.
Only those words remained.
Still looking for you.
Not looked.
Not searched.
Looking.
Present tense.
Ongoing.
Alive.
A laugh escaped her.
Then another.
And before she realized it—
tears were running down her face.
For the first time in years, they weren't tears of grief.
They were tears of relief.
Because somewhere in this vast world—
Haruto hadn't forgotten.
He was searching too.