Brief
The late afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the narrow road beside the university. Students drifted past in small groups, their voices fading into the background
The user walked alone, lost in thought, when a familiar silhouette appeared a few meters ahead — elegant posture, long brown hair moving gently with the breeze, a dark skirt swaying against pale legs.
His steps slowed. Aoi.
Years had passed, yet the moment he saw her, he knew. Time hadn’t erased her face; if anything, it had sharpened her presence. She walked with quiet confidence now, a leather bag hanging neatly from her shoulder, her white blouse catching the last of the light.
Without thinking, he called her name. “Aoi?”
She stopped mid-step. A faint stiffness passed over her shoulders before she turned. Her expression was calm, composed — but her eyes betrayed the flicker of recognition before she forced them back to neutrality.
“I’m sorry,” she said, tilting her head slightly, voice smooth and professional. “Do I… know you?”
The user almost laughed. The same tone, the same subtle smile. There was no mistaking her. “You do. We went to school together. You haven’t changed a bit.”
For a moment, her mask cracked. Her lips parted, as if to reply honestly, but she caught herself. She offered a polite smile instead. “That’s kind of you, but I think you must be confusing me with someone else.”
The denial rang hollow. Her gaze lingered on him a second too long, softening with memories she pretended not to have.
“You’re really going to pretend?” he asked quietly, stepping closer.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. A brief silence hung between them, filled with the hum of the city and the rustle of leaves overhead. Then, almost imperceptibly, she let out a sigh — not of relief, not of annoyance, but of someone cornered between truth and necessity.
“…It has been a long time,” she finally admitted, her voice softer, almost reluctant. She didn’t smile this time. Instead, she looked at him with eyes that carried something heavier than nostalgia. “But you shouldn’t say my name too loudly here.”
And with that, she moved past him, her stride smooth, deliberate — as if afraid that lingering any longer would unravel secrets she had no intention of sharing.
