Haruto left the records office with a stack of copied notes and a head full of thoughts.
The canyon air felt cooler than expected.
Or perhaps he simply hadn't noticed the passage of time.
Hours had disappeared while reading.
Names.
Travel routes.
Archive logs.
Guest records.
Fragments.
Tiny fragments.
Yet when placed together, they formed something beautiful.
A pattern.
Not proof.
Not certainty.
A pattern.
And every line pointed in the same direction.
Sakura.
He stopped in the middle of the street.
Then laughed quietly to himself.
A miner walking past immediately gave him a concerned look.
Reasonable.
Haruto continued down the road.
Brighthollow was far more lively than he had first realized.
The canyon walls towered above the settlement like ancient guardians.
Wooden bridges connected buildings carved directly into the rock.
Mine elevators slowly moved up and down the cliff faces.
Workers crossed suspended walkways carrying ore and supplies.
Children raced through the streets beneath them.
The entire town felt alive.
Built not beside the canyon.
Built into it.
A bell rang somewhere overhead.
Several miners immediately began moving toward the central square.
Then another bell echoed.
And another.
The reaction spread through the settlement.
Shopkeepers stepped outside.
Travelers paused.
Even workers emerging from the mines slowed their pace.
Haruto frowned.
What was happening?
A young boy carrying tools noticed his confusion.
"First time?"
"Is it that obvious?"
The boy nodded.
"Wait here."
Before Haruto could ask what that meant, the boy ran off.
Helpful.
Extremely informative.
Haruto sighed.
Then waited.
Moments later, sunlight appeared above the canyon rim.
At first it seemed normal.
Then the angle shifted.
The light struck the pale stone walls.
The entire canyon ignited.
Gold.
Not yellow.
Not orange.
Gold.
Every building glowed.
Every window reflected sunlight.
Every cliff transformed into liquid fire.
The effect spread across Brighthollow in seconds.
A collective silence fell over the settlement.
Miners stopped walking.
Merchants stopped talking.
Children stopped running.
Everyone simply looked up.
Even though they had likely seen it hundreds of times before.
Haruto understood immediately.
Some things never became ordinary.
His hand moved automatically.
Sketchbook.
Pencil.
Paper.
The familiar ritual.
Lines appeared across the page.
Quick.
Confident.
Instinctive.
For several minutes he drew without thinking.
Capturing light.
Capturing motion.
Capturing a moment that would disappear within the hour.
The world around him faded.
Just as it always did when he drew.
Then a voice interrupted him.
"That's terrible."
Haruto looked up.
A young girl stood nearby.
Maybe ten years old.
Hands on her hips.
Judging his work with the confidence only children possessed.
Haruto glanced at the sketch.
Then at her.
"Excuse me?"
"You missed the reflection."
The girl pointed.
Haruto followed her finger.
A section of cliff face.
A reflection dancing across a window.
A detail he'd overlooked.
His eyes widened.
"...you're right."
The girl nodded.
Victorious.
Haruto immediately added it.
The drawing improved.
Considerably.
The girl watched.
Then smiled.
"There."
A pause.
"Still not perfect."
Haruto laughed.
The girl grinned.
Then ran off before he could respond.
Leaving him alone once more.
The golden hour continued.
Slowly fading.
Returning the canyon to normal.
Yet the sketch remained.
A preserved moment.
A memory.
Haruto stared at the finished page.
Then noticed something.
Without realizing it, he'd drawn a second figure near one of the bridges.
A woman.
Small.
Barely noticeable.
Standing alone.
Reading a book.
He froze.
Then sighed.
"Seriously?"
Apparently even his subconscious had given up pretending.
A nearby voice chuckled.
"You do that often."
Haruto turned.
An elderly bookseller stood beside a small street stall.
Stacks of novels and journals surrounded him.
The old man pointed at the sketch.
"Drawing the same woman."
Silence.
Haruto stared.
The bookseller stared back.
A battle of awkwardness began.
Haruto lost.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Painfully."
Wonderful.
The old man laughed.
Not mockingly.
Warmly.
Then gestured toward the empty chair beside his stall.
"Sit."
Haruto hesitated.
Then did.
For some reason, the invitation felt important.
Not because the old man knew anything.
Not because he had information.
Simply because the expression in his eyes reminded Haruto of someone.
Someone patient.
Someone kind.
Someone who had lived long enough to recognize longing when he saw it.
The bookseller poured tea into two small cups.
Then slid one across the table.
Neither spoke for a while.
The canyon slowly returned to normal around them.
The golden light faded.
The crowd dispersed.
Life resumed.
Finally, the old man asked:
"How long?"
Haruto already knew what he meant.
"Years."
The bookseller nodded.
No surprise.
No pity.
Just understanding.
Then he smiled.
A gentle smile.
The kind old people earned after seeing enough of the world.
"Good."
Haruto blinked.
"Good?"
The bookseller nodded.
"Some people wish for everything they desired yet they neither put in the effort nor persevered till the end"
The old man took a sip of tea.
"Keep going."
For a moment, neither spoke.
"Take this as a souvenir."
The old man slides what seem to be a bookmark made out of flattened flowers and paper.
"It's okay.."
Haruto noticed there was two.
"Give it to her."
Haruto went silent for a moment.
"Thank you."
The old man replied.
"Keep going."
The noise of Brighthollow continued around them.
Miners returning from work.
Merchants closing stalls.
Travelers settling in for the night.
Ordinary life.
Yet the words lingered.
Simple.
Honest.
Comforting.
"I will."
And for the first time in a very long while, Haruto stopped worrying about whether he would find Sakura.
Instead, he found himself looking forward to the day he did.
He hold his makeshift leather bag containing the blue stone tighter.
Not anxiously.
Not desperately.
Just peacefully.
As though some part of him already knew.
The road between them was becoming shorter than the road behind them.