>Oops, forgot to carry the 1.
>Return the gesture, and then disengage when we feel her do the same.
>Put on a strong face, just the hint of a grin. Heaven forbid this be the last she sees us, but if it is, then it'll be at our best.
>"Take care of yourself, Ichirin."
>If she doesn't stop us, depart, unhitch our cart, and hit the road to Braston. And offer a wave to Ichirin or anyone else that comes out of the home to see us off. Assuming they don't stop us, of course.
>It's been a rough few days.
>You put your own arms around Ichirin and simply stay like that for a while, until you feel her let you go.
>You resolve to put on a strong and even cocksure expression, despite the disquiet in your heart. This is how you'd want to be remembered, if...
>Ichirin stares at you piercingly, as though she were trying to commit every inch of this moment to memory. Her eyes are moist with silent tears, but her face is resolute.
>"I'll be praying for you, Nazrin," she says. "Every day."
>You leave the orphanage, unhitch your cart and set out for your journey. There is a long road ahead, and on the other side of it the home you've known for the last years, and maybe, just
maybe a cure. Ichirin follows you out to the door and stands vigil there as you fade away into the distance. You wave goodbye to her as you depart, but even as you reach the limits of your own eyesight, find she hasn't moved at all. With a strange loneliness in your heart, you turn your eyes back to the road, and soon enough the village itself is but a distant mark on the horizon. You are alone with the journey and your own thoughts.