Autumn touched the isle gently, a crispness settling into the morning air carried inland from the western sea and scattered leaves had begun to collect on the ground. The violet blooms of the wisteria thinning with the season, stubborn clusters remaining overhead swaying when a breeze found its way through the trees.

He could hear the distant cries of seabirds beyond the trees, the rustle of something small moving through fallen leaves, and the faint creaking of old branches. Somewhere farther down the slope, waves folded against the rocky shoreline with a steady rhythm. The isle was alive in all the ways that mattered, and Haruto had never required conversation to feel as though he were in good company.

His paws carried him along the familiar path toward the old temple.

He slowed as he entered the ruins instinctively lowering his head beneath a curtain of hanging vines. In his mouth he carried a small bundle of freshly gathered herbs, along with a few late blossoms he had found sheltered from the changing season. He bowed his head and inhaled softly, Autumn already... he murmured. he could hardly believe how quickly time had gotten away from him.

---