The village quieted as the afternoon slipped toward evening.
Kaito and Eryo sat near the edge of the stone steps, the market sounds now distant and soft. Dex lay between them, half-asleep, chest rising and falling slowly.
Eryo broke the silence first.
"…Do you ever think about them?"
Kaito didn't need to ask who.
"All the time," he said.
Eryo nodded, eyes on the horizon. "There were more of us. Not just fighters—friends. People who laughed with us, argued with us, stayed when they could've left." A faint smile crossed his face. "It feels strange to walk this world again and not know where they are."
Kaito leaned back, hands resting on the stone. "I don't think they're gone," he said quietly. "Not really."
Eryo turned toward him. "You think they're still here?"
"Somewhere," Kaito replied. "Maybe not close. Maybe not awake yet. But I don't believe we're the only ones who made it back."
Eryo let out a slow breath, relief slipping into his expression. "I was hoping you'd say that."
They sat with that thought for a while.
"If they're here," Eryo said, "then they might be confused. Or scared. Or living normal lives without knowing why something feels missing."
Kaito nodded. "Then when the time comes, we'll help them remember. Same way we did with you."
Eryo smiled—genuine, bright. "I like that."
Dex shifted, tail thumping once against the stone, as if in agreement.
Eryo glanced down at him, then back to Kaito. "We found each other again," he said. "That has to mean something."
"It does," Kaito replied without hesitation.
The sky deepened into soft blues and golds overhead. No answers yet. No certainties.
But something better settled between them.
Hope.
Because if two friends could cross lifetimes and still sit side by side, then maybe—just maybe—the others were still out there too.
Waiting.