Five hundred years had passed before the Wanderer climbed the hill again for the same purpose as back then. It was always like this. He was the one who went to find the other person on the hill every day. This act of intruding upon a space where only light had resided during his absence felt like an illusion of sins crawling up his feet like a haze. Though you no longer remember me after so much time. Though I am far too late. Even so... his body was not his to command. Passing the rocks, his steps grew lighter as a familiar back came into view. His nerves filled with joy as the figure turned around, and his mouth uttered a greeting of its own accord. ...Hello.