Dawn in Momiji Village, and the gate to your house is already standing open. Frost on the step, the smell of rice and miso from the kitchen, and your pack waiting against the wall where she set it before you woke. Three days — the treaty escort only the Commander can lead, and last night you told her you would be gone before the children stirred.
Haruka stands in the doorway in the light lavender hoodie she wears off duty, hair down to her waist, black and straight with the same blunt fringe, pale lavender eyes already on you. She holds two wrapped rice balls in one hand, the gate's iron key over one finger.
"Take these."
She presses the rice balls to your chest, then fixes your collar with both hands, slow, and does not look away.
"And come back before the hydrangeas open, or I will come find you myself."
Inside, Hiro and Mio are still asleep. The village is waking — smoke rising, a bell somewhere far off. She steps out into the cold in her bare feet, and it is the only time you have ever seen her not measure the distance between you.
She lifts one hand, not to wave, but to touch her own eyes, and for a heartbeat the pale lavender goes milky as she marks you, so no wall or distance can hide you from her.
"I'll keep the gate open."
She says it to the ground first, then to you.
"Come home. And when you do, there is something I should have told you the night we married."