The paper was soft, almost worn through.

  Aoi held it beneath the flickering lamplight in her room at the inn, the storm outside humming like an old lullaby. She stared at the seal — Shirou’s name, handwritten, not printed. It wasn’t dated. But she knew it had been written for this moment.

  She broke the seal.

  Unfolded the letter.

  And read.

  To the one who still listens:

  I don’t know who will read this. Maybe Aoi. Maybe someone else with the patience to chase shadows. But if it’s you, then I’m glad.

  I never told you everything about the Rainwalkers.

  You thought it was a memory ritual. A way to retrieve the lost. But it’s not just about finding others. It’s about deciding who you become when memory fails.

  You’ve met Yuki by now. And maybe Rin.

  I didn’t send you to bring them together.

  I sent you to witness how people carry love — how they carry grief — when the maps are gone and the ink has run dry.

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  I once tried to fix everything with logic. Clues. Threads. But sometimes, the answer isn’t in the puzzle. It’s in the pause between the pieces.

  If you’re holding this, then your journey’s ending.

  But one more truth remains.

  The final Rainwalker… is you.

  Because you walked in the rain knowing no one would wait on the other side.

  And still, you went.

  Yours beneath every cloud,

  Shirou

  Aoi didn’t cry.

  Not immediately.

  She folded the letter back into its envelope, placed it beside her pillow, and lay down without extinguishing the lamp.

  Rain painted the windows.

  Her heart ached — not from pain, but from understanding.

  The journey hadn’t been about love unrequited or friendship fading.

  It had been about choice.

  Hers.

  The next morning, she stood on the bridge at the edge of the village.

  Yuki and Rin joined her quietly.

  The storm had passed. Mist clung to the trees. The world was damp, but gentle.

  Aoi turned to them both.

  “Shirou’s gone,” she said. “But he left me this.”

  She offered the letter.

  Rin didn’t take it. “Was it for you?”

  Aoi nodded.

  “Then it belongs with you.”

  They stood together in silence.

  Not as a love triangle, not as a broken story.

  But as three people who had walked through memory, loss, and rain — and come out changed.