Sakura looked at the carving again.
Then at the boy.
Then back at the carving.
The more she stared, the more obvious it became.
A mountain.
A river.
A sun.
Simple.
Elegant.
Completely impractical.
Exactly the kind of thing Haruto would create.
She could practically hear him defending it.
*"It's memorable."*
No.
It wasn't memorable.
It was confusing.
Haruto had always confused "artistic" with "helpful."
The thought made her smile.
The boy noticed.
"You figured it out."
"Maybe."
The boy nodded as though that was a perfectly reasonable answer.
Then he sat beneath the tree and pulled out a notebook.
Sakura immediately became suspicious.
Normal people did not sit down and start taking notes in the middle of conversations.
Scholars did.
And scholars were dangerous.
"What are you doing?"
"Writing."
"Obviously."
The boy looked up.
Waiting.
Sakura waited too.
Eventually, he sighed.
"I'm documenting the oasis."
"Why?"
The boy blinked.
The question genuinely confused him.
"Because it exists."
That was somehow the most scholar-like answer she'd ever heard.
Even worse than Abel.
At least Abel occasionally remembered that normal people existed.
This boy seemed uncertain.
Sakura sat down beneath the tree.
The shade felt wonderful after days in the desert.
For a few moments, neither spoke.
Then the boy glanced toward her.
"You're looking for someone."
It wasn't a question.
Apparently that disease was spreading.
"Is it that obvious?"
"You keep staring at the carving."
Fair.
The boy closed his notebook.
"My name is Abel."
Sakura froze.
The world stopped.
The wind stopped.
Time stopped.
Everything stopped.
"...what?"
The boy frowned.
"Abel."
No.
Impossible.
Absolutely impossible.
Sakura stared at him.
The glasses.
The notebooks.
The scholar energy.
The inability to communicate like a normal person.
Suddenly everything made sense.
"You're kidding."
"I'm not."
The boy seemed concerned.
"Should I be?"
Sakura buried her face in her hands.
Somewhere on the continent, fate was laughing.
She was certain of it.
Because after months of travel—
after crossing deserts—
after following clues—
she had somehow found the exact kind of person she feared most.
A scholar.
Named Abel.
The boy watched her quietly.
Then offered a waterskin.
"You seem distressed."
Sakura accepted it.
Mostly because it was difficult to argue with water.
After taking a drink, she sighed.
"How old are you?"
"Fourteen."
"That explains it."
"It does?"
"No."
"Then why did you say that?"
Sakura decided not to answer.
Some questions weren't worth it.
The conversation might have ended there.
But Abel suddenly stood.
"Wait."
His eyes widened.
"You're the woman."
Sakura blinked.
"What woman?"
"The woman looking for the artist."
Silence.
Every alarm bell in her head rang at once.
She stood so quickly that Abel nearly stepped backward.
"What did you just say?"
The boy adjusted his glasses.
Apparently completely unaware of the emotional damage he had just caused.
"The woman looking for the artist."
Her heart pounded.
Fast.
Painfully fast.
"How do you know that?"
Abel pointed toward the tree.
"Because he told me."
The world went silent.
No wind.
No birds.
No distant sounds.
Nothing.
Only those four words.
He told me.
Sakura stared.
Unable to breathe.
Unable to think.
Unable to move.
Abel frowned.
"You look more distressed now."
"WHEN?"
The shout echoed across the oasis.
Several birds immediately abandoned the area.
Abel blinked.
Then answered.
"About six months ago."
Six months.
Six.
Months.
Not years.
Not decades.
Months.
Sakura's knees almost gave out.
She grabbed the tree for support.
Abel watched this happen.
Concern growing.
"Are you alright?"
"No."
The answer came instantly.
The boy nodded.
"Fair."
At least he was learning.
Sakura forced herself to breathe.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Then asked the most important question she had ever asked in her life.
"What did he look like?"
Abel thought for a moment.
Then pointed toward the sketch she had shown him earlier.
"The same."
Her heart stopped.
Not similar.
Not close.
The same.
Abel continued.
"He carried a sketchbook."
"He drew constantly."
"He talked to strangers."
"He traded sketches for food."
The boy frowned.
"Honestly, I think he was terrible at managing money."
Sakura laughed.
A broken laugh.
Half relief.
Half disbelief.
Because that sounded exactly like Haruto.
Exactly.
For the first time since arriving in Asterra—
she wasn't chasing rumors anymore.
She wasn't chasing possibilities.
She wasn't chasing hope.
She had found someone who had actually met him.
And suddenly—
Haruto no longer felt far away.