Maybe one day, she really would have forgotten him, if she had gone with Ieyasu. Maybe one day, all she would have left would be the dim memory of a smile, and the smell of pine and sunshine.

But even thinking of something like that, of forgetting him or worse, of him forgetting her, makes her impulsively tighten the grip she has on his arm. She buries her head against his shoulder as she shakes her head.