Renkai stayed near the man's body long after the ghost had vanished.
The fire had died completely. The world around him was cold again—quiet, gray, and endless. The fog pressed in like a weight on his heart.
His stomach twisted in on itself.
It had been too long since the last bite. His body ached. His limbs felt heavy again. The forest offered him nothing. No berries. No prey. Just silence… and death.
He looked at the man's face.
Still. Pale. Kind, even in the end.
> I'm sorry, Renkai thought.
Renkai stood quietly beside the man's body.
His small chest rose and fell slowly, his ears flat, his tail low. He stepped back, eyes still wet with tears, and bowed deeply — pressing his head to the earth.
A gesture of gratitude.
Of shame.
Of remembrance.
> "Thank you," he thought, though no words left his mouth.
"I will not forget."
The fire had gone out.
Only ash remained now — just like the man.
Renkai turned from the place they had shared.
He did not run.
He walked.
