The tree branches extending out over his head cast claw-like shadows over his body as the dry leaves crunched loudly with each step he took. He held one arm across his chest as if he was trying to keep warm while the other hand pointed his flashlight out in front of him. Birds no longer chirped and sang from the trees, likely having left for warmer land a few weeks ago. He must have missed them by only a few days.

He wondered if he'd ever hear them sing again. 

When Luigi first came home from the last adventure he'd likely ever go on, the birds singing were what inspired him to wake up each morning. He liked to close his eyes and listen to their songs, pretending that he was outside amongst them, flying free instead of caged inside a small, dark room. When he was younger, he and Mario used to take bags of breadcrumbs and feed the birds on the streets of Brooklyn. He missed those days. He missed the beautiful singing. He missed life. 

He had been walking for far too long, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He finished all his snacks and his water was nearly empty, but he didn't want to turn around just yet. It was like his body was growing stronger with each step he took. He didn't want that feeling to fade. He didn't want to go back to being the man who sat in bed and stared at his reflection through the window. 

A day had passed. Luigi knew that much. The sun was just setting on November 14th. Mario must have been furious. Actually, rage probably wasn't his first emotion. It certainly would be what he'd feel once Luigi got home, but at the moment he was probably terrified. Luigi wished he left a note or something to assure Mario that he was alright. He felt like a bad brother.

He was a bad brother. 

It was impossible for him to be the good brother he used to be with the way life was taking him. He couldn't follow in Mario's footsteps and support him the way he used to. He couldn't do what used to give his life meaning. All he could do was sit in his room and watch as Mario took care of him. He went from being a supporter to being a burden. 

Soon, the satisfying crunching of dry leaves had turned into the crunching of snow as Luigi walked further and further, past dried shrubs and up steep hills. He knew that the ocean was nearby from the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, so it wasn't like he was lost. He had explored the forest enough times to know exactly where he was heading. There was an abandoned lodge a few miles back that he could collapse in if need be.

The man in green whistled to himself as his flashlight flickered off. He hit it a few times, hoping to keep his light alive, only to be met with darkness. Thankfully, the sky wasn't pitch black yet, so he was able to replace the batteries with ease. The only problem was his gloves making the small batteries harder to handle, so he ended up briefly removing them, which in turn made the glove fingers turn inside out. After he was finished with the batteries, he tried putting his hands back in normally only for his fingers to be caught, so he had to take the gloves and individually fix each and every one until they were back to the way they were supposed to be. 

He supposed the moment only took a few short minutes, but he felt as if he wasted hours just fixing the minor mistake. 

He started to shiver as night fell upon the land. Though no snow fell from the sky, he could feel it seep into his old boots. He wondered if maybe it was time to buy new ones, although he didn't want to waste money. What was the point of new boots if there was a very high chance he wouldn't live long enough to get enough use out of them? His shoes usually lasted him a few years, so why waste money on something he'd only be able to use for a few more months? 

He only had a few more months...

He didn't like to think about dying much. It felt too permanent. It happened to everyone, so there was no reason to be afraid, but that didn't change the fact that he didn't want to leave. He didn't want to say goodbye to Mario or Daisy, he didn't want to leave the Mushroom Kingdom. Who would Professor E. Gadd call to take care of ghosts if not him? Would Gooigi just step in and do it for him? Would the world just replace him? How quickly would the replacements happen? How long would people miss him for? Would there be a funeral? Who would speak? Would Mario be a mess, or would he put on a brave face for everyone else like he always did?

What would it feel like? Would dying be like sleeping? Was this going to be a painful or painless way to go? Where would he even go? Would he be back in the Underwhere? He always tried his best to be kind and good, but would that even matter? Would not having a heart anymore change him into something else? What if instead of going somewhere, he'd just fall back into that dark place?

He wished he wasn't the only one dying this way. He wished there was a book on it so he could know exactly what it would feel like, exactly how long it would take. He wished he could ask Blumiere more questions since he was the most well-acquainted with the Dark Prognosticus and stuff, but the former count never even spent time in the same room as him. Besides, Luigi doubted he'd really have the answers he wanted. 

He shivered and adjusted his scarf slightly, walking faster as if trying to escape the thoughts. 

The further he went, the deeper the snow became until it had reached over his boots with each step and made the bottom of his pants damp and cold. He supposed that was an indicator of it being time to turn back and go home. After all, he didn't want to cut the last few months of his life short by freezing to death. 

With a sigh, he turned around and started heading back, walking toward the ocean so he wouldn't walk back the exactly same way he came. There was a road by the ocean that led straight into Toad Town which was probably less snowy, so it would likely be faster to walk on anyway. Maybe someone driving by could give him a ride.

He wished he brought his phone. Maybe he could have called Mario to pick him up. Leaving the device at the house probably only further worried the man in red. Luigi only left it because he didn't want to spend his brief moments of freedom being bombarded with messages and calls from his older brother. 

It took a few hours before he could get down to the ocean. He called it a beach, but it really wasn't. There was hardly any sand aside from one small section, which was still fairly rocky. Most of the coastline consisted of violent waves crashing against the rocky shores with large and violent splashes. Luigi could recall summer days spent at the coast, watching the waves crash and feeling the seawater spray onto his face. He never could do much more, as the water wasn't exactly safe to swim in.

The tide was lower, so the waves didn't seem as violent as usual. Rising tides were the best time to be there because it meant sitting and watching as the waves got bigger and rougher against the rocks. 

He slowed his pace down slightly so he wouldn't slip as he walked alongside the sea until he made it to the brief sandy section before the road. There were no engines roaring in the distance, likely because winter was approaching. No one ever visited the sea during this season.

That's when he noticed someone lying on the shore. 

They were close enough to the water for occasional waves to crash over them. Luigi winced and frowned, unsure of how anyone could handle such cold water during the winter season. He immediately ran over to make sure they were okay, tripping over himself slightly. He wasn't used to running anymore, especially in the sand. 

"Hello!" he called out, his voice stronger than it had felt in months. 

He could feel a heartbeat in his ears. 

The person didn't respond as waves continued to crash over them. Luigi rushed into the water and kneeled down, feeling the ice-like chill seep through his pants and onto his skin as he pressed his hand to their forehead. Their skin had lost all color and their lips were a shade of blue. Their thin black shirt had been torn and the rips in their pants revealed bloody cuts on their knees. 

"You'll be okay," Luigi said, pressing his finger to their neck. "You'll be o-"

He suddenly stilled, his damp hands trembling as another wave crashed against the two of them. 

Their heartbeat.

He knew it. 

He looked down at the person before him, then scrambled backward, shivering, although he wasn't sure if it was from the cold or from the horror that had hit him as another wave crashed. 

He placed his hand over his own chest. Had he had his heart, it would have been racing.

Luigi looked around, internally kicking himself for not bringing his phone. 

Without another thought, he scrambled back to the small, unconscious person and lifted them out of the water, slinging one of their arms over his shoulder. Luigi could feel their heartbeat, steady and strong. 

It was a miracle that the man in green could even lift them. Luigi felt as if he had been given a surge of strength. Perhaps being so close to his heart gave him that power back.

"We're getting you out of here," Luigi said, slowly carrying them to the road. The person didn't reply or nod.

The walk back was long and exhausting, but Luigi was able to make it before the morning sun rose on November 15th. He saw Mario through the window on his phone with worry etched onto his eyebrows. His older brother spotted him through the window just before he could reach up and knock, then rushed over and threw the door open. 

"LUIGI!" he cried, tears in his eyes, though the relief didn't last long. As Luigi suspected, the gentleness quickly turned to rage as his brother's face turned red. "WHERE IN GRAMBI'S NAME WERE YOU-"

"I found him," Luigi whispered, out of breath. He allowed himself inside, then set the still unconscious person down on the couch. Their skin was like ice.

"I don't care what you did. You can't just-"

"No, Mario," Luigi repeated, turning to his brother with a wide-eyed expression. "I found him."

Mario opened his mouth to continue yelling but stilled. His sky-blue eyes flickered from Luigi to the unconscious person who was soaking his couch with freezing seawater. 

"Your heart?" Mario whispered.

"Dimentio." Luigi nodded.

The man in green wasn't sure what to think or how to feel. He had already come to terms with the fact that Dimentio was never going to be found. How could things change so quickly? What did this mean for him? What did this mean for Dimentio? Could things turn around? Could he get himself back? Could he get life back?

"I'll get him a blanket," Mario said as Luigi collapsed down onto Mario's favorite chair. He held his hands out to the fireplace, which was luckily lit. His gloves were still soaked with ocean water, freezing the tips of his fingers.

Luigi nodded, despite Mario already having left. He tried to keep his mind from swirling - tried to keep the questions from taking his entire being over. 

He turned his gaze to Dimentio, whose chest rose and fell in uneven patterns. His entire body trembled, but his heartbeat was slow and steady. Luigi could feel it in his own ears as if it was his own once again. 

Somehow, things felt more complicated than they did days ago when everyone thought the search was hopeless. Back then, things were so simple. This changed everything.