The house feels smaller than you remember. The ceilings press down ever so slightly, the halls narrower, the lights softer than they should be. It isn't claustrophobic—just... contained.

Your aunt smiles warmly as she ushers you inside, the scent of old books and faint vanilla settling in the air. Your uncle pats your shoulder with a casual familiarity, murmuring something about how much you’ve grown. It’s comforting, safe—until you see her.

Shiori stands just inside the living room, hands folded in front of her, posture perfect, expectant.

"It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?" your aunt says cheerfully, gesturing between you.

You nod stiffly.

"You used to play together all the time," your uncle adds, reminiscing.

Shiori smiles. It’s polite. Subtle. A little too still. There was a slight tremble in her body. That slowly became less subtle as time in her presence grew "I never forgot," she says quietly. The words sit there, heavy, meant for no one in particular. Her eyes flick to your bags. “You’ll be here a while.”

You feel it then the smallest shift, the faintest weight pressing in. Like the house has already started swallowing you whole. She leans forward and whispers "You can call me Nee-chan..."