Set after the good end of the true route of the game. In this, Mink has returned to his homeland with the intention of committing suicide now that Toue is dead. But I always wondered, what if there was someone who cared, and what if Mink ran into them? So this is just me toying with that idea.

Mink stopped.

The woman did too.

After Oval Tower had collapsed and Toue brought down by Aoba, Platinum Jail had all but been brought down. Mink had disbanded Scratch and headed for his home. He had intended to pay his respects and then end his life...

But he hadn't been expecting this woman to be here.

As far as height and build went, she was average. Her skin was an uneven tan, with freckles spanning her cheeks, shoulders, and upper arms. Her eyes were hazel. Her hair was a light brown with natural dark highlights, kept in a loose pony curled around the base of her neck. Her bangs escaped their restraints and hung in natural ringlets by her ears and mussed-up waves in her eyes. Her ears were pierced, both bearing silver turtle-shaped studs. There was a bandage at the corner of her mouth, her elbows and knees were scraped, and her shins were bruised somewhat. She wore a loose-fitting white tank-top and knee-length cut-off shorts of green material. On her left wrist was a simple leather cord wrapped around several times, a simple polished blue stone the only ornamentation. Hanging from her shoulders was a somewhat ratty old backpack. It looked like a bug had bitten her shoulder near her neck or something.

His appearing had startled her. Like a deer in the headlights, her eyes were wide, chapped lips slightly parted. She had frozen midstep, with one foot in the air.

Finally breaking the silence between them, Mink growled out, "What're you doing here?"

"Ah— Oh." Starting to wobble, she threw both arms out wide and put her foot down. Recovering, she looked sheepishly to him and admitted, like a child caught misbehaving, "I'm paying my respects."

"... Hah?"

Her face flushed a bit, and she hurried to explain, waving her hands about as she did so. "I didn't personally know any of them, but my grandma had a friend here before moving away, and since Gran-Gran died just recently, I, well, I kinda thought it'd be polite to come... well..."

Hazel eyes unfocused, her nose crinkling a bit as her brow knit thoughtfully. As she reached up to scratch at the bite on her shoulder, Mink could tell she was trying to arrange her scrambled thoughts.

"... How about you?" she finally asked, tilting her head.

Mink debated telling her that it was none of her business, but at length decided the truth was better. It might coax out whether or not she herself was telling the truth.

"I once lived here. This was the home of my people."

"Huh... Huh? Really?" Her eyes widened, and her face flushed darker. Ducking her head, she said apologetically, "I'm sorry... should I not be here?"

Polite, at least, even if she was apparently scatter-brained.

"You said your grandmother had a friend here."

Perking up a bit, she nodded. "I don't remember the name she told me, but Gran-Gran said that they exchanged letters after she moved— but one day, she heard that the whole village and all the people had just vanished. She thought something was wrong with that, but there wasn't much she could do about it... for a lot of reasons, no one listened to anything she said..."

Well, that was true...

"But the stories she told were beautiful, and... before she died, she even gave me something her friend made for her before moving..."

Slipping her backpack off, the woman opened it up and pulled something wrapped in layers of plastic foam and bubble-wrap out.

"She gave it to me, but... but maybe it's better if you have it..." she mumbled, offering him the pack.

Mink accepted it, watching her face carefully. She noticed, and the blush that had left her face returned. She began to fidget, knotting her fingers together and shuffling her feet, looking anywhere but his face. Frowning slightly, he looked to the thing she'd handed him. Carefully, he began to unwrap it, wondering what on earth it was. It must've been fragile, to warrant this much protective packaging—

A dream catcher. Not one of the small ones that people claiming to be hippies had hanging from their wrists and necks, but a full-sized hand-made one, just starting to show signs of age and wear.

"... Your grandmother had this?" he asked, voice soft with surprise.

"Uh-huh. It would always hang over her bed, so whenever I spent the night, I wanted to sleep with Gran-Gran." Smiling a bit, the woman made a little gesture with her hands, saying, "It's such a beautiful thing, and I was taken aback when she gave it to me, considering how much it meant to her..."

Mink surprised himself by asking about her grandmother. She also seemed surprised.

As the woman— Vivian, she called herself— talked, Mink began leading her away from the place where the village had once been. She had to take longer strides to keep up with him, following wordlessly as he led her towards a rocky outcrop he knew of where they could sit, instead chattering away about her grandmother. Once or twice, she tripped, reopening the scrapes on her knees and skinning her palm. But she didn't seem to particularly care, brushing herself off each time and continuing on. As he listened, Mink found himself vaguely recalling a woman of her grandmother's sort being friends with one of the tribe's families. He didn't remember her too well. It'd been a long time ago, and the woman had in fact moved away at some point.

"... And then she told me about that." Vivian said, pointing to the dream catcher as she reached up to scratch her bug-bite again. "It was very special, she said. Her old friend had made it for her not long before she moved to that area. When I asked if she was still talking to that friend, she grew very sad and told me that the whole tribe had been killed. I didn't know anything about them other than what she told me, but Gran-Gran looked so sad, it made me upset. I tried to learn everything I could about what happened, but supposedly nothing happened... which is BS."

It was a euphemism, but it was the first time Mink had heard her use anything close to bad language in all of her rambling. The harsh stubbornness of her voice implied what she really thought, even if she wasn't saying it directly.

Handing the dream catcher back at last, Mink asked her, "Do you really want to know what happened?"

Vivian opened her mouth to speak, but then paused. Folding her hands carefully in her lap, she looked to her feet. Since she was smaller than him, her feet didn't touch the ground from where they were sitting like his did. As she considered his question, Vivian gave her feet a few tiny, childish kicks. Then she brushed her bangs from her eyes, looking up to him.

"For my grandmother. Please." she said in a quiet, firm voice.

It took a little longer than her stories of her grandmother, but Mink explained. He left nothing out, not a single detail. He told her about Toue and his methods, the man's intentions and his research. The entire time, he could feel his blood boiling just thinking about it—

Vivian timidly put a hand over the fist in his lap.

She was pale, and looked like she wanted both to be sick and cry. Mink waited for her to utter some apology or other, but she just said, "At least he's dead, right?"

He blinked.

"You left— I mean... it doesn't sound like you would come back if he was still alive... right?"

... Intuitive, this one. Mink wondered if she could tell his reason for coming back.

"... Well... I suppose when I go to visit Gran-Gran's grave... ehh, she never liked hearing about death. But I don't wanna lie to her... 'Justice was served?' 'He got what was coming to him?' Hmm..." Vivian said, eyes becoming hazy as she thought, kicking her feet again. Mink got the feeling she was trying to take his mind off of his anger.

"So you came to pay your respects in place of your grandmother." he murmured, catching her attention as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yeah. It... seemed like the right thing, I guess. I mean... and now that I know..." Vivian trailed off with a slight sigh, covering her mouth with one hand. Not with nausea. It was a thoughtful gesture. She was trying to arrange her thoughts again.

Mink was taken off-guard when she asked, "Is it okay if I tell her about you?"

He didn't answer.

Vivian blushed hard, saying, "Nevermind, nevermind!" and waving her hands frantically. Looking up, she took note of the sun starting to set. "Aah, it's late... I better get back, I gotta get up early tomorrow..."

Slipping off the outcrop, Vivian turned to face him. Offering a gentle, genuine smile, she said, "I'm really glad I got to meet you, Mink. It was an honor. Maybe..."

Trailing off, she shook her head. Her ponytail fell out of place, starting to come undone, as she turned to move away.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Mink asked, noticing the dream catcher's package left on the stone.

"Eh?" She looked back to him in confusion. He gestured to it. "Oh! No... I think you should have it. I... I want you to have it...?"

He wasn't sure how to reply to that.

She took advantage of his silence to make sure he couldn't return it to her, waving with a smile before running off, carefully heading towards the setting sun.

Mink sat still, quiet for a long time. Dusk started to creep over the land when he finally picked up the packet. Opening it up, he stared at the dream catcher, thinking over everything Vivian had told him.

'Maybe...'

Maybe what? Normally Mink was pretty good about reading people. But Vivian had thrown everything for a loop.

Closing his eyes, Mink recalled her scent. He hadn't thought too much about it while she was with him, but now that she wasn't here...

She had smelled of the wind, and of peonies and azaleas. Sweet and clean, like new life.

A dry laugh left him at the thought of such a scent coming to him when he came here for such a purpose.

But as his gaze settled on the dream catcher again, Mink found himself wondering if the old gods had sent a person such as Vivian to him for that exact reason.

Mink was quiet, tracing over the carefully-woven strings with a fingertip. It was somewhat reassuring to know that someone cared.

... Maybe, huh?