The rain fell softly over the silent streets of Kurokawa Village.
Haruto pulled his hood tighter as he ran across the rooftops. He wasn't a shinobi. He wasn't strong. He wasn't famous.
He was just a courier.
But not a normal one.
Haruto delivered last wishes.
Letters from soldiers who couldn't return home. Messages from villagers who were too sick to travel. Final words that carried more weight than any weapon.
Tonight's letter felt heavier than usual.
It was addressed to the Village Leader, Shiyuki.
As he reached the tall gates of the frozen palace, snowflakes drifted around him. The guards let him pass — they knew the "Last Wish Courier."
Inside, Shiyuki stood by the window, her indigo hair glowing under the moonlight.
"You came," she said calmly.
Haruto handed her the letter.
She read it once.
Her expression didn't change.
But a single snowflake-shaped tear slid down her cheek.
"It's from my brother," she whispered.
Haruto froze.
"He won't be coming back, will he?" she asked quietly.
Haruto lowered his head.
"No… Lady Shiyuki."
Silence filled the room.
Then something unexpected happened.
Shiyuki smiled.
"Thank you," she said. "Because of you… his last words reached me."
Haruto felt warmth in his chest.
He wasn't a warrior.
He didn't fight battles.
But he carried something just as powerful—
Hope.
And as he stepped back into the snowy night, another letter waited in his pocket.
Another wish.
Another story.
Another heart depending on him.