He frowned, trying to remember whether he'd ordered anything recently.

Nothing came to mind, but he'd check the package later.

For now, he took his time with his coffee. It was the only breakfast he planned on having anyway.

The ticking of the clock echoed through the quiet apartment.

6:30 a.m.

Yesterday, he'd slept for nearly eighteen hours straight.

He'd only woken up long enough to buy something from the convenience store, check for any work notifications, eat, then crawl back into bed.

He couldn't deny it.

After so many sleepless nights, the long rest had done wonders for him.

Unfortunately, it had also given him far too much time to realize he'd spent the entire night hugging his pillow.

Satoshi let out a quiet sigh.

For five years, he'd managed to lock away every thought of the younger Harada sister. However yesterday, she'd shattered that wall so effortlessly that it almost wounded his pride.

After moving to Tokyo, women had continued to flock around him.

There had been countless invitations to dinner, confessions, and even Fujiwara-san's occasional jokes about marrying his daughter off to him.

None of them had ever meant anything.

Spending his entire childhood suppressing his emotions to keep his alter ego from taking advantage of them had undoubtedly played a part.

By the time Dark disappeared...

Love had become something he'd simply learned to live without.

But... Harada Risa was honestly another reason.

Satoshi had spent years convincing himself that whatever he'd felt back then had merely been childish affection.

Two teenagers who happened to cross paths over the same piece of artwork.

Nothing more.

That explanation should have been enough.

So why...

Why did her face always find its way into his thoughts whenever he hadn't slept for two days?

Why was she the first person he thought of whenever Fujiwara-san casually asked about his nonexistent love life?

   Is she happy now?

   Did she finally find the happiness she deserved?

   Can she still find it... without remembering Dark?

Whenever he spoke to Daisuke and they found themselves reminiscing about middle school or high school.

There was always a part of him that wanted to ask about the younger Harada sister.

He never did.

And yesterday certainly hadn't helped. The pillow still carried the faint scent of her, and somehow, Satoshi had spent nearly eighteen hours sleeping with it in his arms.

He'd never hugged a pillow to sleep before, yet yesterday he'd clung to it as though he couldn't bring himself to let go.

Because deep down, he knew what he really wanted.

It wasn't only the lingering scent she'd left behind. He wanted to hear her voice again. To see her sitting on his sofa. To know she was there.

He wanted...

Her.

The realization made him close his eyes for a brief moment.

Who was he to ask for something like that?

Satoshi exhaled slowly before taking another sip of his coffee. The warmth lingered only briefly before he finished the rest in one gulp.

Meeting Harada Risa again after five years had completely thrown his mind into disarray.

So he needed a distraction.

Work would do. He'd bury himself in reports, cold cases, paperwork... Anything that would keep his thoughts occupied.

After grabbing his bag, he headed downstairs and stopped by the apartment lobby.

He might as well check the delivery box before leaving.

He opened it, and his eyes widened. Inside, neatly folded in a paper bag and wrapped in clear laundry plastic, was his familiar navy overcoat.

Satoshi instinctively checked the notification on his phone again.

Twenty minutes ago.

He stared at the screen for a moment before quietly putting his phone away.

Of course.

Harada clearly hadn't wanted to meet him in person. That was probably why she'd left the coat in the delivery box instead.

Even if he'd somehow left his apartment twenty minutes earlier… Nothing would've changed. At most, they would've exchanged an awkward greeting, followed immediately by another goodbye.

Silently, Satoshi closed the delivery box.

He'd pick up the coat after work.

--------

Fujiwara's POV

It has been two weeks since the Hiwatari kid had finally taken some time off. And ever since he'd returned to work, the unusual blue-haired detective had somehow finished the entire backlog of headquarters reports in just two days.

Two days.

When Fujiwara had first been told about the pile of paperwork, everyone had estimated it'd take nearly a month to clear.

Naturally, Hiwatari had proven them all wrong.

Then, as if that weren't enough, the kid had requested permission to reopen three cold cases.

Three.

While still handling his regular workload of murders, kidnappings, and arson investigations.

At this rate, he'd probably start wandering into other divisions, stealing their cases too, and leaving every department squeaky clean before anyone realized what had happened.

Fujiwara chuckled to himself.

The kid was unbelievable.

The tall, broad-shouldered director made his way over to Division One's section of the office.

Sure enough… There was Hiwatari.

Fast asleep at his desk, his head resting on his folded arms amid piles of reports and case files.

Beside him sat his familiar black mug, the coffee inside long gone cold. Fujiwara had no idea how long it had been sitting there untouched, but judging by the thin layer of oil floating on the surface... probably far too long.

He lightly tapped his fingers against the edge of the desk.

"...Mm." With a groan, the young detective slowly lifted his head.

"Hiwatari."

Satoshi pushed himself upright, his eyes still heavy with sleep. The annoyed look he gave Fujiwara, however, was perfectly clear.

"Director. If you need the report for tomorrow's meeting, it's already on your desk."

Fujiwara crossed his arms over his broad chest and sighed. "Go home."

"And the meeting isn't tomorrow," Fujiwara added, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall. "The meeting is today. It's currently one-thirty in the morning."

The office had already gone quiet. Most of the lights had been switched off, leaving only a handful of desks illuminated. At this hour, the only people still around were the night-shift officers.

The director himself.

And somehow… The team leader of Division One.

"If you leave now," Fujiwara continued, "you can still get four or five hours of sleep before the meeting."

Hiwatari leaned farther back in his chair. His usually neat blue hair was sticking up in every direction. His tie hung crooked around his neck.

With his ring finger, he absentmindedly pushed his glasses back into place. "No need, sir. I was planning to finish the report for one of the cold cases. It's the—"

Fujiwara immediately raised a hand. "No."

The boy blinked.

"No. I know how this goes. You explain yourself, and somehow I end up approving another hundred pages of paperwork."

The dark-haired director took another step closer. "Hiwatari... did something happen?"

He clearly saw the young detective flinch.

It was only for a split second—so subtle that most people probably wouldn't have noticed. But Fujiwara did.

Hiwatari didn't answer. Instead, he lowered his gaze to the documents scattered across his desk, silently staring at the pages.

To anyone else, it might've looked like he was reading. But his eyes hadn't moved from the same spot on the page.

Honestly… How the kid's brain still worked after going days without proper sleep was beyond him. Fujiwara would've forgotten his own name by now.

Yet there Hiwatari was, clearly thinking about something. Just not the reports in front of him.

"...Nothing, sir."

Fujiwara frowned. Then, without warning—

Smack!

His palm landed squarely on Hiwatari's shoulder. The force nearly knocked the boy sideways.

"You think I'd believe that?" His booming voice echoed across the Division One section.

A few officers from the night shift looked over before immediately returning to their work. Watching Director Fujiwara bully—no, play with—their genius team leader had become a normal part of their worklife.

Hiwatari straightened himself with a sigh and adjusted his glasses once again.

This time, Fujiwara didn't smack him.

Instead, he rested a heavy hand firmly on the young man's shoulder.

Five years had passed since the boy first joined the force.

He'd grown taller.

Broader.

He'd even put on a bit of muscle, making him even more popular in the marriage department. Thank God the kid refused to show his face in the media. Otherwise, headquarters would've needed a separate hotline just for his admirers.

Fujiwara still remembered the scrawny teenager who'd first walked into headquarters looking like a strong gust of wind might blow him away.

"I don't know what's bothering you," Fujiwara said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "But go home… Get some rest. Those eye bags of yours are starting to look criminal."

He laughed loudly. "I'm afraid people are going to report me for overworking you."

Fujiwara's smile softened.

He knew exactly how brilliant Hiwatari was. Commissioner Hiwatari had personally recommended his own son all those years ago. And over the last five years, Fujiwara had watched the young detective solve one impossible case after another.

He'd seen that frighteningly calm mind piece together answers no one else could find.

He'd watched the boy earn promotion after promotion.

But sometimes… People forgot.

Hiwatari was only twenty.

Looking at him now, with his messy hair, exhausted eyes, and distant expression...

Fujiwara couldn't help seeing something beyond the prodigy everyone admired.

Just a lonely kid.

"Understood?" he said a little louder before finally lifting his heavy hand from the young detective's shoulder. "Go home. That's an order."

Hiwatari looked seconds away from rolling his eyes. Instead, he let out a long sigh. "...Yes, sir."

"That's better." Fujiwara grinned before ruffling the boy's already messy blue hair.

Honestly, he kind of missed the long-haired version. Though Fujiwara had to admit, the shorter hair suited him too—and it was certainly more practical for police work.

Then again, there wasn't much variety when it came to hairstyles around here. About eighty-five percent of the male officers seemed to have some version of the exact same short haircut.

The other fifteen percent...

Well. They were bald.

"Ahhh..." Fujiwara sighed dramatically. "If only you'd accepted Misaki! She'd take good care of you!"

He turned back toward the boy with a grin. "Are you sure you don't want to marry my daughter? I'd be heartbroken to lose my precious little girl..."

He paused. "...But for you, Hiwatari-boy, I'd allow it!"

Hiwatari slowly turned his head toward him. The glare he gave Fujiwara would've been far more intimidating if his hair weren't sticking up in every direction.

Fujiwara burst into laughter. "Alright, alright! I'm going home to my lovely wife and happy family."

He waved as he headed toward the exit. "You'd better go home too. See you in the morning."

As he reached the doorway, Fujiwara glanced back one last time.

Hiwatari was still sitting exactly where Fujiwara had left him. His left elbow rested on the armrest, his hand supporting the side of his head as he quietly stared at the pile of documents covering his desk.

The older man couldn't tell whether the boy was still thinking about work or if his mind had drifted somewhere else entirely.

Fujiwara let out another quiet sigh.

Whether that stubborn kid would actually pack up and go home...

Well, tomorrow morning would give him the answer.

—-----

Director Fujiwara walked into the office wearing a freshly pressed shirt and one of his tailored suits.

Well, with a body as big as his, everything had to be tailored anyway.

It was only six in the morning—still an hour and a half before the monthly headquarters meeting—but he always liked arriving early to go over the materials one last time.

"Good morning!" he called loudly as he stepped into the room.

His subordinates immediately stood and greeted him back.

Fujiwara's eyes naturally drifted toward the desk belonging to Division One's team leader.

And, well… The kid was already there.

The director walked straight over to the young detective.

Hiwatari looked up from the mountain of documents covering his desk. A thin stream of steam still rose from the familiar black mug of coffee resting beside him.

His short blue hair had been neatly styled with soft volume, the slightly tousled fringe falling naturally over his forehead. His necktie sat perfectly beneath his collar. His glasses framed his lightly tan face as neatly as ever.

But...

Those ridiculous eye bags were still there.

Fujiwara let out a sigh. "So, did you go home?"

Hiwatari stood up from his chair. His shirt and trousers were as crisp as if he'd just put them on.

"Yes, sir. I did."

The two of them looked at each other for a brief moment. Almost as if he could already tell what the boy was thinking, Fujiwara asked another question. "...Did you sleep?"

Silence.

Hiwatari could have lied. But both of them knew there was no point.

You simply didn't lie in front of Director Fujiwara.

The man had spent over thirty years conducting interrogations. On top of that, he was frighteningly good at reading facial expressions and body language.

Even Hiwatari Satoshi—with that unreadable poker face of his—had never been able to completely hide a lie from the older man.

Fujiwara sighed again. This time, there was no teasing in his voice. "Satoshi... You can't keep treating your body like this. It's slowly eating you alive."

Hiwatari's blue eyes widened ever so slightly.

The director rarely called him by his first name. But whenever he did… For just a brief moment, something in Hiwatari's expression changed. Fujiwara couldn't quite place it, but the boy suddenly looked strangely uncomfortable.

Fujiwara watched him quietly, but decided not to push. Still, his fatherly instincts had already taken over. There was no stopping him now.

Hiwatari slowly lifted his gaze until their eyes met. After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke. “I know… I just need some time, Director."

Fujiwara blinked.

Then his eyes widened.

It was almost as shocking as hearing a career criminal suddenly confess to every crime they'd ever committed.

"Oh?" A grin slowly spread across his face. "So there is something bothering you!"

The director burst into laughter. "Finally found yourself a woman? Is that why you've been acting so out of your mind lately?" He waved a dismissive hand, fully expecting Hiwatari to deny it immediately.

Instead… The boy looked away.

Fujiwara's smile slowly disappeared as his mouth fell slightly open. "Oh..."

His voice came out much quieter this time. "You really did find yourself a woman?"

That was apparently enough.

Hiwatari let out a long, exhausted sigh.

Whatever little emotion had managed to escape moments ago vanished completely behind his usual expressionless face.

He adjusted his glasses before calmly reaching for his coffee. "That's none of your concern, Director. And I added another ten pages to today's meeting report. It's already on your desk."

With that, he sat back down, took another sip of his now slightly cooled black coffee, and returned his attention to the mountain of paperwork in front of him.

Fujiwara resisted the urge to smack his own forehead.

Getting Hiwatari Satoshi to open up was already a rare occurrence.

And when it finally happened, apparently Fujiwara couldn't keep his mouth shut long enough to take advantage of it.

He sighed.

Well… Maybe he'd get another chance in five years.

--------

The monthly meeting of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department's Criminal Investigation Bureau.

Quite a mouthful.

But despite its long name, it was one of the most important days of the month for everyone in the bureau—especially for Director Fujiwara.

All five divisions under the Criminal Investigation Bureau would present the progress they'd made over the past month, including updates on ongoing investigations, recently closed cases, and any major issues that still needed attention.

The meetings usually lasted three to four hours.

Among the officers, however, they had a much simpler nickname.

The Circle of Hell.

Not because of the workload.

But because this was the day the higher-ups grilled every division about long-running cases, delayed investigations, budgets, and even criticism from the media.

Fujiwara himself wasn't innocent either. If he saw a lack of progress, he wouldn't hesitate to push his own people.

The other team leaders weren't much different. Everyone wanted their division to look the best.

Sometimes they'd ask painfully specific questions during another team's presentation—not because they genuinely wanted an answer, but because they wanted to point out every weakness they could find.

That was simply how things worked.

After thirty years in the police force, Fujiwara knew there were plenty of traditions that deserved to disappear.

Changing them, however... was much easier said than done.

He walked toward his assigned seat at the side of the conference room, his chair facing all of the team leaders who were seated in the front row.

Behind each team leader sat the rest of their division.

Once everyone had taken their seats...

The meeting began.

Fujiwara already knew most of the reports by heart. He'd read every single one beforehand. Still, seeing each division present one after another made it much easier to compare their performance.

As expected, Hiwatari presented first.

The twenty-year-old prodigy stood before a room full of team leaders nearly twice his age.

When Fujiwara had promoted him last year, convincing everyone to accept the decision had been no easy task. Even now, he could still see traces of that resistance. Some folded their arms. Others frowned openly. A few watched Hiwatari with unconcealed irritation.

But none of it mattered.

By the time the presentation ended, there was almost nothing left to criticize.

Hiwatari had only been a team leader for just under a year. Yet under his leadership, Division One had increased its arrest rate by nearly thirty percent.

He'd solved four cold cases.

Report submission delays had dropped by an astonishing seventy percent.

Even the ongoing investigations under his supervision were meticulously organized. The risks had been identified, backup plans were already in place, and somehow, Hiwatari had managed to cover almost every question before anyone could even ask.

Fujiwara glanced around the room again.

The expressions hadn't changed. If anything, they looked even more displeased.

However, no one raised a hand.

No one challenged him.

Fujiwara knew that look well.

It wasn't dissatisfaction… It was envy.

Hiwatari Satoshi had accomplished all of that at just twenty years old.

The other team leaders were talented detectives. But no matter how hard they worked, they simply couldn't replicate what the young prodigy consistently achieved.

After asking a few follow-up questions—which Hiwatari answered effortlessly—Fujiwara dismissed him.

The young detective returned to his seat without the slightest change in expression. To Hiwatari, it probably was just another report, nothing worth making a fuss about.

The meeting moved on to Division Two, and Fujiwara turned his attention to the next presentation, jotting down a few notes about the questions he'd ask later.

Every so often, however, his gaze wandered around the room, unconsciously observing everyone's reactions.

Then… Something caught his eye.

Hiwatari had stopped writing.

His pen hovered above the notebook.

His eyes narrowed at first... then widened. His lips parted almost imperceptibly.

The boy was staring at the presentation screen.

Division Two had successfully dismantled part of an illegal drug distribution network that had been under investigation for nearly six months. Two suspects had already been arrested, and one of the organization's operating bases had finally been identified.

An apartment building in Tokyo.

"Our team has already neutralized the members involved," the Division Two leader continued. "We're currently securing the apartment, evacuating the residents, and coordinating with the media before—"

Screech.

The sharp sound of a chair scraping across the floor interrupted the presentation.

Every head in the room turned, only to find Hiwatari already standing. His shadow partially covered the projected slide.

"Hiwatari?" Fujiwara called.

The young detective immediately turned toward him.

"I apologize." He bowed. "Director, please excuse me."

His voice sounded no different from usual—calm, controlled, almost unnervingly so.

But Fujiwara had known him for five years. He could hear the slight uncertainty underneath it.

Fujiwara blinked.

It wasn't like Hiwatari to interrupt a meeting. Especially this one.

Still, he nodded calmly. "Alright. Report back to me once you're finished."

"Yes, sir."

Without another word, Hiwatari left the room. His notebook and pen remained on the table.

The conference room immediately filled with confused whispers.

Nobody left the monthly headquarters meeting halfway through.

Nobody.

And Hiwatari Satoshi might've been the last person Fujiwara expected to do it.

After a brief silence, the Division Two leader cautiously asked, "...Should we wait?"

Fujiwara cleared his throat.

"No, continue. Whatever it is, he'll report back when he's finished."

--------

Nearly four hours later, the meeting finally came to an end.

People gathered their documents and slowly filed out of the conference room.

Hiwatari still hadn't returned.

Nor had Fujiwara received any report from him.

Curious, the director walked over to the young detective's seat. His notebook still lay open.

Fujiwara picked it up.

There wasn't much written yet. Hiwatari had presented first, and Division Two had only just begun when he'd suddenly left the room.

Still, whatever he'd managed to write was as neat and detailed as usual.

Fujiwara turned to the last page.

   Division Two.

The notes continued normally. Until they suddenly didn't.

The writing ended halfway through the address of the apartment building that had been identified as one of the organization's bases.

Fujiwara slowly raised an eyebrow.

His eyes lingered on the unfinished address for another moment. Then his mind drifted back to the expression Hiwatari had made during the presentation.

It had only lasted for a split second. But after working with the young detective for five years, Fujiwara knew that even the slightest change on that usually unreadable face was never without reason.

The director quietly closed the notebook.

Whatever had happened...

He'd get his answer once Hiwatari came back. And Hiwatari-boy had better prepare himself. Because this time, the one getting interrogated... was him.

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰! 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳! 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘍𝘶𝘫𝘪𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘢-𝘴𝘢𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘟𝘋 (𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘩𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 “𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸” 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 “𝘐 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥” 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘬𝘺𝘬!!) 𝘕𝘰𝘸… 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨? 👀 𝘕𝘦𝘹𝘵, 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘒-𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 😂 𝘚𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶!

"Sorry for the trouble," she said as she slipped it over her shoulders. It fell just above her knees, and the sleeves were so long they completely covered her hands—even her fingertips.

Hiwatari stepped out of the bedroom wearing a long gray overcoat. "Don't worry about it."

Risa tried not to make it obvious, but her eyes drifted toward him.

Hiwatari-kun dressed so well.

She couldn't imagine any of her university friends dressing like this. Most of them wore oversized sweaters and weird checkered pants. Well, some of them were incredibly fashionable, but most of them were so skinny it almost looked unhealthy.

Hiwatari-kun looked much more mature than her classmates. Even though they were supposed to be the same age.

Was it the glasses? The calmness? The aura?

Hmm… Must be the aura.

"What?"

She snapped out of her thoughts and realized Hiwatari-kun had caught her staring.

Risa quickly shook her head. "N-No! I'm fine!" She forced a smile, and Hiwatari-kun simply looked back at her.

For a moment, it seemed as though he wanted to say something. Instead, he quietly walked toward the kitchen counter.

Risa heard the soft jingle of keys before he returned. "Let's go. I'll drive."

"You have a car, Hiwatari-kun?"

"...Yeah?"

The final note in his voice lingered awkwardly between them.

Once again, Risa was reminded that the man standing before her was no longer the Hiwatari Satoshi she had known in middle and high school.

He was already living and working in Tokyo, supporting himself in a luxurious apartment with a view of Tokyo Tower from the living room.

Not to mention… He owned a car.

She knew Hiwatari-kun had always been that kind of person. She'd heard rumors that he'd already graduated from university before transferring into their middle school. She'd never known whether they were true, but apparently even Saehara's father was somewhat afraid of him.

That was Hiwatari-kun.

Mysterious… Hard to understand.

Yet somehow, he always seemed capable of taking care of himself and making the right decisions.

The complete opposite of her.

Hiwatari-kun opened the apartment door, and Risa quickly followed behind him. Quickly slipping onto her kitten heels, they headed down to the underground parking garage.

After walking for a short while, he stopped in front of an expensive-looking black sedan.

It was a freaking Lexus.

Risa blinked before slowly turning toward the man beside her. "...You're rich."

Hiwatari raised an eyebrow. But for a split second, Risa could have sworn she saw the corner of his lips lift ever so slightly.

Without saying a word, he walked around to her side and opened the passenger door.

Risa immediately blushed. "You don't have to do that... But thank you."

She climbed into the passenger seat, and Hiwatari-kun waited until she was seated properly before quietly closing the door.

Risa brought her arms up to touch her warm cheeks. Only then did she realize she was practically wrapped inside Hiwatari-kun's overcoat.

And it smelled like him.

Ahhhhh…

Her fingers immediately found the ends of her hair, absentmindedly playing with them as she tried to calm her pounding heart.

Hiwatari opened the driver's side door and climbed into the car.

Risa immediately sat up straight, stared ahead, and quietly cleared her throat.

A moment later, the low hum of the engine filled the quiet car.

"Can you tell me your address?" Hiwatari-kun asked.

Risa quickly gave him the address, and he entered it into the GPS.

"Around thirty minutes if there's no traffic," he said while fastening his seatbelt.

A strange pang tugged at Risa's chest.

It had been five years since she'd last seen or spoken to him.

Yet now that he was here… She felt strangely at ease.

Come to think of it, they'd been pretty close in high school. But their relationship had become stranded after that night...

Then Hiwatari-kun left Azumano.

She couldn't deny that there was now a huge gap between them.

One neither of them seemed willing to bring up.

Maybe ever.

But for now… Risa was simply happy to have met him again.

Still, they only had thirty minutes.

After that… Who knew? Would they ever meet again?

Hiwatari started the car, and silence settled comfortably between them.

"Thank you," she finally said.

Hiwatari-kun kept his eyes on the road. "For what?"

Risa turned toward him, quietly studying his profile.

His light blue hair was shorter now, styled with a soft texture that left his forehead exposed.

But if you looked closely… His face hadn't really changed all that much.

Or had it?

His eyelashes were still so long they almost brushed against his glasses.

"For everything. You saved me last night, brought me somewhere safe, let me take a shower, even cooked for me. You also called the restaurant to ask about my coat... and now you're driving me home."

She smiled softly. "So... thank you." 

Risa continued looking at him.

Hiwatari-kun had been helping her—saving her—ever since middle school.

Many girls liked him because of his face. Then they got rejected and called him cold.

But Hiwatari-kun had never been like that.

Risa knew.

Because she'd spent so much time watching him throughout high school.

She'd seen how annoyed he got with Saehara, yet he never pushed him away. Even with Daisuke-kun, Hiwatari-kun would always give him advice about his paintings. Even when he was exhausted, he never complained.

Even when he himself was hurting...

He never stopped trying to help Risa remember.

Five years had passed. Yet in the end, Risa still couldn't remember the person she'd once held dearest.

But she remembered the warmth of Hiwatari-kun's embrace.

How tightly he had held her.

And, how could she ever forget the day they kissed?

Now that she remembered it...

All it brought was a sharp pain in her chest.

It wasn't embarrassment, or awkwardness. Not even nervousness.

It simply… Hurt.

Because Risa knew Hiwatari-kun had once had feelings for her.

And she'd used those feelings for her own sake.

It hurt so much that somewhere along the way, she'd begun to lose the ability to love someone herself.

During the past five years, Risa had dated all kinds of boys.

Boys her age, older than her, younger than her.

They went on dates, watched movies, had romantic dinners—everything couples were supposed to do.

Yet, there was always something missing.

Was it because of the memories she'd lost?

Because she'd been dreaming about someone else?

Someone she couldn't even remember?

   "You know... sometimes I feel like you're not really looking at me."

   "Risa... I can tell you don't love me. Well, I'm okay with just a physical relationship, though."

   "Are you even serious about us? No wonder everyone says you're a playgirl."

Risa closed her eyes.

Not because she wanted to forget those words.

No… She wanted to relive them.

So she wouldn't forget that she was no longer the fifteen-year-old Risa Harada she used to be.

There was something wrong with her.

Something she couldn't fix.

Something she didn't even know how to fix.

And she'd already decided...

She would never drag Hiwatari-kun into this again.

Not again.

She realized Hiwatari-kun was still looking ahead and somehow… He looked pleased.

Almost as though the corners of his lips had lifted ever so slightly.

Risa found herself smiling too.

She was relieved.

Relieved that Hiwatari-kun was still the same Hiwatari-kun she'd always known.

Thirty minutes later, they arrived in front of her apartment.

As soon as she opened the passenger door, Hiwatari-kun got out as well.

"Ah, you don't have to go that far, Hiwatari-kun!" She waved both hands in front of her, but the oversized sleeves of his coat flapped helplessly from side to side.

"Really... You've already done so much." She smiled warmly. "I really appreciate it."

"Okay." He simply stood there, watching as Risa walked toward the apartment entrance.

"Harada."

She turned around just before stepping inside.

The cold wind drifted between them, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's great to see you."

Hiwatari-kun had finally said it.

Risa could clearly see the smile on his face.

A faint blush crept onto her cheeks.

"Me too, Hiwatari-kun."

Then… They simply stood there.

Maybe they were both waiting for the other to say something.

Or perhaps, they just wanted to linger in that final moment a little longer.

Risa took a deep breath before giving him one last wave.

Then she stepped inside.

After the automatic door slid shut, she glanced back one last time.

Hiwatari-kun was still standing there.

Looking straight at her.

Only then did she release the breath she'd been holding before hurrying upstairs.

Digging through her purse, she unlocked the door.

With practiced hands, she slipped off her shoes before running straight to her bed and throwing herself face-first onto it.

It would probably take her a while to process everything that had happened today.

But when she looked down, she realized she was still wearing the oversized navy overcoat.

Slowly, she lifted one sleeve to her face and took a deep breath.

It smells like him...

Risa closed her eyes.

Almost immediately, her thoughts carried her back to the old chapel in Azumano.

The abandoned chapel they'd visited together.

Twice.

She could still feel his embrace.

His warmth.

The way he'd held her so tightly, as though he was afraid she'd disappear somewhere far away.

Her fingertips brushed lightly across her lips.

That familiar ache in her chest returned once more.

   "I hope you can find happiness, Harada."

The bittersweet smile he'd shown her during the farewell party resurfaced in her mind.

Risa slowly curled herself into the oversized coat.

"Sorry, Hiwatari-kun..."

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I don't think I'll be able to do that."

Surrounded by the warmth of the navy overcoat...

She slowly drifted off to sleep.

-------

*Satoshi’s POV

He kept looking at the apartment entrance long after she had disappeared inside.

He was conflicted.

It had been five years since they last met, and Satoshi had thought he'd moved on.

No.

Who was he kidding?

Every time he received a message from Daisuke, somewhere in the back of his mind, he found himself wondering what the brunette girl was doing.

Was she doing well?

Had she finally found her happiness?

Satoshi had never asked directly.

But since Daisuke had never brought it up, he knew the younger Harada sister had never regained her memories.

The memories of Dark.

He tightened his fist, and a long sigh escaped him, disappearing into the cold air as white mist.

Eventually, he got back into the car and drove home.

When Satoshi returned to his apartment, he stood quietly in the hallway for almost a minute.

The silence had always been there.

It should have felt familiar.

So why… Did it suddenly feel so foreign?

Absentmindedly, he checked his work phone.

Nothing. No calls.

Fujiwara-san was strict about letting his subordinates rest on their days off.

But Satoshi needed something to do.

Anything… Anything to distract himself.

Brushing his hair away from his forehead, he removed his glasses.

His eyesight was still perfectly fine, just as it had been when he was fifteen.

But he'd worn glasses for so long that he could barely remember what he looked like without them.

Besides, they made him look older.

Slowly, Satoshi walked into the bathroom.

Then stopped.

The black silk pajamas had been neatly folded on top of the washing machine.

His fingertips brushed against the cool fabric.

Then, all at once, a ridiculous urge washed over him.

To bring it closer.

To smell it.

Satoshi quietly closed his eyes.

No...

He'd known all along.

Or perhaps he simply hadn't wanted to admit it.

Nothing had changed.

He was still hopelessly in love with her.

Satoshi quietly shook his head before tossing the silk pajamas into the washing machine.

The towel followed. Then yesterday's clothes.

He pressed the start button.

Afterward, he returned to his bedroom and dropped onto the bed.

Only then did he remember that he'd slept for barely two hours the previous night.

For obvious reasons.

His light blue hair spread across the gray pillow as another sigh escaped him.

Maybe a short nap would help. He still had tomorrow off anyway.

What a bother.

Rolling onto his side, his eyes slowly widened.

Smoke.

And...

Her scent.

Oh, right.

She had slept here last night.

Without thinking, his hand reached toward the empty side of the bed.

As though it might still be warm.

It wasn't.

Slowly, he pulled the pillow closer and buried his face against it.

The faint trace of her scent lingered there.

His heartbeat quickened before he even realized it.

His thoughts drifted back to that day.

The first time he'd kissed her.

It hadn't been because of desire.

No, it had been far more complicated than that.

She'd looked at him with so much hope.

Then… The moment she'd realized the person standing in front of her wasn't the one she'd been searching for.

Her eyes had widened in realization. 

And it hurt.

It hurt watching her search for someone.

Someone Satoshi himself had sealed away.

Someone whose memories had been stolen from Harada because of him.

It hurt watching her wander the streets at night...

Waiting.

Searching.

For someone she couldn't even remember.

But more than anything...

It hurt seeing her cry.

Sometimes, Satoshi found himself wondering—

Why can't she just move on?

The thought barely crossed his mind before he let out a bitter smile.

Because he was a hypocrite.

He'd never managed to move on either.

Satoshi hugged the pillow a little tighter, trying to remember what it had felt like to hold her.

Instead...

The image of the woman he'd met today quietly surfaced in his mind.

Her hair had grown much longer now. Longer than it had ever been when they were fifteen.

He couldn't stop remembering the curve of her neck.

Her pale shoulder.

Her collarbone.

And the brief glimpse of skin beneath the loose collar of his oversized shirt.

The pillow carrying the faint trace of her scent certainly wasn't helping.

"...Fuck."

The word escaped in barely more than a whisper.

At that moment...

Satoshi realized he wasn't going to be getting any sleep tonight.

𝘈/𝘕: 𝘏𝘪 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬! 𝘉𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯… 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘮 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵 X𝘋 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮….. 𝘍𝘶𝘫𝘪𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘢-𝘴𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘗𝘖𝘝~ :𝘱 𝘚𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶!

| ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ➪

There, she met him. That light blue-haired boy.

He wasn't wearing his glasses, and he stood quietly beneath a street lamp.

Risa stopped for a moment. Just as she decided to turn back, he called out to her.

“Did I disturb your night walk, Harada?”

Risa flinched and slowly turned toward him.

“Hi-Hiwatari-kun…”

Silence settled between them.

After the Kokuyoku event, they'd grown much closer. At least, compared to before. But there was still a wall between them—or perhaps, that was just how Risa felt.

She still didn't understand why he had hugged her that night.

And somehow, whenever she thought about it, she couldn't shake the feeling that his warmth had felt strangely familiar.

Hiwatari remained calm, not a single expression changing on his face. Then he sighed.

“You should go back. It's late, and it's not good for a girl to walk around at night. I'll escort you home.”

“Say, Hiwatari-kun… how's your arm?”

He walked a little closer before stopping. For a few seconds, he looked surprised and averted his eyes.

“Yeah… it's already healed.”

That's not what she meant.

Not physically.

The wound on his arm had healed long ago.

But what about everything else?

“Now that I think about it, you still never told me about your family business.”

Her voice grew stronger, pushing against the walls between them without giving him the chance to hide behind them.

“Harada, I—”

“Hiwatari-kun. What do you know? About that night?”

Again, she didn't let him finish.

She was afraid he would give her some ordinary answer.

Something like his father being in the police department.

It wasn't a dream, right?

“Harada…”

His voice sounded almost pained.

He's changed so much over these past three months.

She guessed Niwa-kun and Saehara had a lot to do with it. And somehow, she had gotten to witness those changes too.

The old Hiwatari-kun would've simply ignored her.

“Harada, are you still—”

He tried to reach for her arm, but she stepped back.

“Yes! I still have nightmares! I can't sleep! It keeps bothering me! Tell me, Hiwatari-kun, was it really just a dream?”

He finally looked at her.

At first, he seemed surprised.

Then his expression changed.

He looked so hurt.

He grabbed her hand. His grip was firm at first, but gradually softened.

“Harada, please…”

His left hand reached toward her face, and very slowly, he touched her now wet cheek.

“I don't want to see you cry.”

Again.

Those words.

He said the same thing that night, didn't he?

“It feels like I'm looking for something… someone. But I've never been able to remember his face, his voice, or even his touch…”

Tears finally spilled down her cheeks.

He gently pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her.

This warmth…

Why did it feel so familiar?

“…Hiwatari-kun, please… tell me.”

She tightened her grip on his shirt.

“Was it a dream?”

His arms around her tightened in response.

She could tell he was fighting something within himself.

His thoughts seemed to be racing, searching for words that could comfort her. But for a long while, he said nothing.

Eventually, she calmed down, and he slowly released her.

His shirt was damp with her tears, though he didn't seem to notice.

“I'll help you remember it.”

Risa blinked.

“I'll help you try and remember it.” His voice was quiet. Almost hesitant. As though he wasn't entirely sure himself.

“But…”

He paused. Then, very gently—

“I don't want to see you cry anymore.”

For a moment, Risa could only stare at him. Under the dim light of the street lamp, Hiwatari-kun looked away.

“…Let's go home.”

And just like that, he started walking.

As though he hadn't just said something that made her chest ache.

Risa walked to his side, and they made their way to her home in silence.

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨! 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 ♡ 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘙𝘪𝘴𝘢 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥~

| ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ➪

Ngh… Gray blanket…?

The brunette opened her eyes again and stared at the unfamiliar blanket. Her eyes widened, and she threw it aside so violently that she nearly fell off the bed.

Sitting upright only made her head spin and she groaned as she massaged her temples. “God… How much did I drink last night?”

Then she froze as the realization hit her. 

She was sleeping in an unfamiliar room.

Immediately, Risa lifted the rest of the blanket and inspected herself from head to toe.

Then from toe to head again.

Her clothes were completely intact.

Relief washed over her like a soothing wave. But then… Where was she?!

Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

Or at least tried to.

Her knees almost buckled.

“Wait… Yesterday, I went to that group date with Maya and Ayako, right?” Her voice was huskier than usual. She cleared her throat, only to feel a sharp sting at the back of it.

Despite the protest deep inside her throat, she ignored it and tried to piece together her memories.

Cocktails, university students… Some annoying guy.

Who was it? Minato? Haruto?

No… Yuito.

It was definitely Yuito.

He'd been way too pushy from the very beginning!

Risa's eyes widened as another thought struck her.

That man had placed his hand over her drink multiple times.

Did he spike it?!

Her head still felt heavy, and she was unbelievably thirsty.

She needed water. But more importantly… She needed to get out of here.

And if this really was Yuito's apartment, she was definitely punching him in the face.

Groaning, she opened the bedroom door.

Then she froze as a spacious living room greeted her.

Large windows overlooked Tokyo Tower beneath a beautiful blue sky, making her squint against the morning light.

A huge television.

A black sofa.

A small dining table beside the kitchen.

Everything was neat.

Beautiful.

And strangely…

Lonely.

Like one of those model rooms that no one actually lived in.

She forced herself to walk away from the apparent bedroom and past the living room. She couldn't help admiring how beautiful the apartment was, but her body instinctively carried her toward the kitchen.

Risa vividly remembered Yuito mentioning that he lived outside Tokyo... right? So how come Tokyo Tower was right outside the window?

She closed her eyes for a moment to steady the dizziness and reached out a hand for support.

But instead—Her hand slipped.

“Aww…” She landed squarely on her butt and grumbled as she rubbed her sore backside. “How come the wall moved just now...?”

Annoyed, she looked to her right at the apparent moving wall.

Then she froze.

If her eyes could widen any further, they probably would.

Standing in front of the sink was a blue-haired man.

His hair was still wet, tiny droplets lazily trailing down his neck. A toothbrush rested between his lips.

He wasn't wearing a shirt.

Risa's eyes went to his face.

Then drifted down to his lean, toned chest.

Huh...?

His shoulders and chest carried a very light tan.

Wait… Chest?

Her gaze dropped lower.

...

Oh.

A towel was wrapped around his waist.

That was all.

His blue eyes widened as he stared down at her.

Risa stared right back.

After a split second—perhaps because of her hangover—her brain finally registered the face in front of her.

The face she hadn't seen in so long. It took her a moment to recognize him without his glasses.

“Hi—” Her breath caught.

For a moment, her mind went completely blank.

How long had it been? Four... Five years?

The memory of him smiling gently at her during the farewell party at Daisuke's house resurfaced without warning.

Then she blinked, bringing herself back to the present.

Her eyes drifted downward.

...

Oh right.

He was only wearing a towel.

“KYAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!”

Risa screamed so loudly that the man immediately covered his ears.

“Harada!” He hurriedly spat the toothpaste into the sink and wiped his mouth. “You'll scare the neighbors!”

Risa scrambled backward in panic as heat rushed to her face.

Unfortunately, the blue-haired man stepped closer. Still dressed exactly the same.

Her mouth hung open, and despite herself, her eyes wandered from his face down to his exposed torso.

Twenty-year-old Hiwatari Satoshi had grown.

A lot.

His once pale skin had become lightly tanned, and his shoulders were broader than she remembered.

And—

No.

No, no, no.

Was that… 

Abs?!

Risa's face turned an even brighter shade of red. She was absolutely certain of it.

Hiwatari-kun sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair, brushing it back from his forehead.

And somehow that only made it worse.

“Wh-Why are you here, Hi... Hiwatari-kun?”

Even saying his name felt strange, especially after avoiding every conversation about him since he left Azumano.

“This is my apartment.” 

His answer was as short as ever.

Then, as though nothing unusual was happening—as though he wasn't standing shirtless right in front of her—he calmly extended his hand.

“Can you stand?”

She glanced at the offered hand.

And immediately, her eyes traveled right past it and landed on his chest again.

Risa felt her face growing hotter and hotter.

Then suddenly, her stomach lurched. She slapped a hand over her mouth.

Stumbling to her feet, she hurried away, throwing open one door after another in a panic until she finally found the toilet.

She barely managed to lift the toilet lid before she threw up.

Ugh… This was the worst.

No sooner had she caught her breath than another wave hit her.

After what felt like an eternity, she weakly pressed the flush button before sinking down onto the floor.

Her head still hurts.

Her throat burned, and she could feel tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, forced out during her battle with her stomach.

Looking up, she found Hiwatari standing nearby with a mug in his hand.

Half of his damp hair still clung to his forehead, while the rest had been brushed back. His brows were tightly knitted together with concern.

“Are you alright?” He held out the mug.

Water.

Risa nodded weakly in thanks and drank it in one go.

Without a word, Hiwatari-kun took the empty mug and disappeared.

A few seconds later, he returned and quietly offered his hand again. “Are you feeling better? Can you stand?”

Risa looked up at him.

Honestly, she already felt much better after throwing up, though her head was still heavy.

Slowly, she placed her hand in his and tried to push herself to her feet.

Without warning, however, Hiwatari-kun effortlessly pulled her upright before she had the chance.

“Ah—!”

Still dizzy, she lost her balance and stumbled forward, crashing face-first into his bare chest.

Her eyes widened as the coolness of his skin brushed against her cheek, probably because he'd just stepped out of the shower.

She instinctively tried to push herself away.

Unfortunately, both her hands landed squarely against his bare chest instead.

“Waa! S-Sorry!”

She immediately turned her face away.

Gosh! That was a nice chest—

No!

I mean... toned—

No!

Firm—

NO!

Stop thinking, idiot!

She screamed internally, completely oblivious to the fact that she was now hiding her face and fanning herself furiously, as though it would somehow cool the heat burning in her cheeks.

But, how did she end up in Hiwatari-kun's apartment?

And why him, of all people?!

Unable to stop her racing thoughts, Risa stole another glance.

And immediately regretted it.

He had gotten so tall. What was he now? One hundred eighty centimeters? More?

And that body—

No, no, no!

Did Hiwatari-kun work out?!

Her face grew even hotter. She shook her head furiously, desperately trying to fling every image of his chest and abs out of her mind.

Then—

“Pff…”

A small sound escaped from the person in front of her.

Risa blinked.

There, she found Hiwatari-kun covering his mouth with one hand. 

“Wh-What?” She mumbled. 

He looked away slightly.

“No... I just...” She could hear him take a deep breath, as though he were trying to stop himself from laughing. “I didn't imagine you'd react like that.”

Between his fingers, Risa could see him...

Hiwatari Satoshi.

Laughing?

Risa's jaw dropped.

Five years ago, she'd seen Daisuke-kun slowly bring Hiwatari-kun out of his shell. She'd seen him smile around Daisuke-kun and Saehara.

But she'd never seen him laugh.

Not like this.

Not so naturally.

Somehow, that realization made her chest tighten.

It reminded her just how much time had passed since they'd last seen each other.

There had been nothing connecting them during those five years. No letters. No phone calls. Nothing.

She had never once tried to contact him.

Neither had he.

She'd always believed that had been the right choice.

Yet somehow, by some ridiculous twist of fate, she was standing in front of Hiwatari Satoshi once again.

Without thinking, Risa curled her hand into a fist and pressed it against her chest.

Maybe it would somehow ease the ache growing inside it.

“Do you want to freshen up? Take a shower? You can wash your clothes too. They smell like smoke from the yakitori.”

The sound of Hiwatari-kun's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

She looked up and noticed the strange expression on his face.

Concern.

Maybe he'd noticed the sudden shift in her mood.

Pushing the thought aside, she blinked. “What?”

Hiwatari-kun looked slightly taken aback before quietly repeating himself.

Risa lifted her sleeve and took a deep sniff.

He was right. Her clothes smelled strongly of smoke. She could even smell it in her hair.

Hiwatari-kun disappeared into the bedroom and returned a moment later carrying a black silk button-up pajama set.

Without looking directly at her, he held it out.

“You can use this while your clothes are drying.”

Risa accepted the pajamas.

Hiwatari-kun walked past her, filled the mug with water, and placed it on the dining table in front of her.

Without another word, he disappeared into the bathroom and slid the door shut.

A moment later, the sound of a hairdryer echoed throughout the apartment.

Should I really accept his offer?

It's already awkward enough seeing him again after five years.

Maybe I should just go home...

She slowly walked over to the dining table and sipped the water.

After throwing up, she definitely felt better. Her head was still spinning a little, though. She certainly didn't feel clean after having her head over the toilet.

But if she accepted his offer...

She'd probably have to stay for a few more hours while her clothes dried.

Her heart already felt like it was about to burst out of her chest.

If she stayed any longer, she was certain she'd only embarrass herself all over again.

Suddenly, the bathroom's sliding door opened, making Risa jump.

The water nearly spilled over the rim of the mug, but she managed to steady it just in time.

Hiwatari-kun stepped out of the bathroom.

His light blue hair—which she now realized was shorter than it had been five years ago—was already dry.

His short blue hair was styled more neatly than she remembered, the fringe no longer falling over his eyes but brushed back to reveal his forehead.

He still wasn't wearing his glasses, making him look so different from the Hiwatari Risa remembered. Somehow, it made him feel even more like a stranger.

"Go ahead."

He simply stood there, as though waiting for her to use the bathroom.

Once again, Risa's eyes drifted downward, and she nearly let out another scream.

She couldn't believe he still hadn't changed after drying his hair!

Hiwatari-kun remained perfectly still, his usual stoic expression fixed on her. Somehow, that alone calmed her down a little.

He then walked past her and reached for the pair of glasses resting on the dining table. Slipping them on with practiced ease, the unfamiliar man from a moment ago quietly disappeared.

There he was.

Hiwatari-kun.

Somehow, seeing the familiar face again eased the last of her embarrassment, and the urge to finally wash up quietly returned.

She took a deep breath and carefully set the mug down on the dining table.

“Th-Thank you. I'll be using your shower.”

Half-running, she slid the bathroom door shut and locked it.

Then she finally let out the breath she'd been holding, sighing so loudly that Hiwatari-kun had probably heard it from outside.

Once again, she cupped her burning face.

Desperately trying to erase the image of Hiwatari-kun standing there wearing nothing but a towel.

“Why...” she whispered, burying her face in her hands. “Why did you have to appear in front of me again...?”

The image of the fifteen-year-old Hiwatari-kun quietly surfaced in her mind.

The boy who had stood beside her.

The boy she'd asked for help.

The boy she'd unknowingly hurt.

A familiar ache spread through her chest.

Risa slowly raised her head and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was puffy from the alcohol, and most of her makeup had worn off.

Even so… She could still tell how miserable she looked.

Her brows were tightly knitted together. The familiar redness had already begun creeping back around her eyes and nose as she struggled to hold back her tears.

That's strange...

She'd always believed the guilt had faded with time.

That after five years… It wouldn't hurt this much anymore.

But seeing Hiwatari-kun again—

Really seeing him.

Hearing his voice.

Meeting those blue eyes she'd spent years avoiding in her memories.

She finally understood.

Time hadn't healed anything.

They had only made it easier to pretend it wasn't there.

Shaking her head, she absentmindedly slipped out of her clothes.

Going on autopilot had always been one of her coping mechanisms.

She needed to calm down.

Opening the washing machine, she tossed everything inside.

Fortunately, there was already detergent loaded, and the settings had been left on automatic.

She pressed the wash-and-dry cycle and the machine began to hum.

As it started running, she glanced around the bathroom.

It barely had anything. It almost felt as though it lacked a personality. Just like she'd imagined Hiwatari-kun's bathroom would be. That thought calmed her a little.

At least the Hiwatari-kun she remembered still seemed to exist, even if those memories were five years out of date.

Slowly, she opened the shower door, and warm air immediately greeted her.

The steam from Hiwatari-kun's shower hadn't completely cleared yet.

The thought that he'd been standing there only moments ago—In only a towel.

Risa covered her face.

No! What am I? A pervert?!

After giving herself a firm slap on the cheek, she finally stepped inside.

She was surprised to discover that Hiwatari-kun used a shampoo with a refreshing herbal scent.

For some reason, she'd always imagined he was the type to buy one bottle that claimed to do everything.

Apparently, he took better care of himself than she'd expected.

After gargling several times and enjoying the hot shower, she finally felt refreshed.

Her headache wasn't gone. But she definitely felt better.

Stepping out, she grabbed the fluffy white towel and dried herself before wrapping it around her hair.

Then she reached for the black silk pajamas.

But stopped.

“Huh?”

She checked again.

And again.

“No...”

“No, no, no...”

Frantically, she searched through the pajama set.

The towel rack.

The sink.

Then...

Slowly...

Her eyes shifted toward the washing machine.

The color drained from her face.

Her jaw dropped.

“Did I just wash my underwear too?!” she hissed to herself as she stared in horror at the humming washing machine.

There, tumbling together with her turtleneck and short skirt...

Was her underwear.

“NOOOOOOO!!”

------------------------------------

Satoshi's POV

Satoshi flinched when he heard the muffled scream coming from the bathroom.

He left everything on the kitchen counter and hurried toward the sliding door.

“Harada! What happened? Are you okay?”

He knocked loudly, surprised by how panicked he sounded.

“Ah, s-sorry! It was nothing!”

Her muffled voice came from the other side of the door, sounding slightly higher than before.

He blinked and let out a quiet sigh of relief.

His hand remained against the door frame for another few seconds before he finally let it fall to his side.

His thoughts drifted back to Harada.

He'd already told himself this yesterday.

She really hadn't changed all that much.

Or at least, that was what he'd been trying to convince himself.

Because the truth was...

His mind kept wandering to the subtle differences.

The softness that had settled into her features.

The longer hair framing her face.

The quiet femininity she'd grown into over the past five years.

And somehow...

His eyes kept noticing things they never had before.

The curve of her lips.

The way the black turtleneck hugged her figure.

...

Had they always been like that?

He couldn't remember.

Satoshi adjusted his glasses and shook his head.

No.

Dwelling on thoughts like these would do him no good.

Returning to the kitchen, he checked on the grilled salmon.

He dropped a block of instant miso into each bowl before pouring hot water over them. As the blocks slowly dissolved, the familiar aroma of miso filled the kitchen.

It had been a long time since he'd prepared something like this.

His stomach growled, reminding him that he'd skipped dinner the night before.

So he'd gone to prepare breakfast—No. It was almost noon already.

His refrigerator usually contained nothing but water, the occasional energy drink, and a few cans of beer.

After Harada had gone to shower, he'd walked to the supermarket five minutes away and bought rice packs, instant miso soup, and grilled salmon.

Spending years around hungover police officers had taught him that a proper meal usually helped settle the stomach.

As for headaches… Only time and water could help.

Moving over to the coffee machine, Satoshi unconsciously relaxed.

It was probably the only thing in his apartment he'd spent more than an hour choosing.

Everything else had been bought as part of a matching set.

Opening the cabinet, he looked through his collection before eventually choosing the Colombian beans.

He ground them carefully and let the machine slowly brew the coffee while its rich aroma gradually filled the apartment.

The grilled salmon was done.

He transferred it onto two plates before heating two rice packs in the microwave.

Once they were ready, he spooned the rice into two bowls before arranging everything neatly on the dining table.

The coffee finished last.

After cleaning the machine, he carried the cups over and finally sat down.

Opening the morning newspaper, Satoshi took a sip of his coffee.

He was wearing a navy shirt beneath a beige sweater.

Despite the February weather, he hadn't felt the need to turn on the heater.

Then he blinked.

He'd only given Harada his pajamas.

Without thinking, he stood up, switched on the heater in the living room, and returned to his seat.

Rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, he crossed one leg over the other and spread the newspaper across his lap.

He read in silence for what felt like ten minutes.

His coffee was already gone.

Every now and then, his eyes drifted from the articles to the dining table.

The miso soup.

The grilled salmon.

The rice.

They were probably getting cold already.

Perhaps he should have prepared everything later.

But Harada sure was taking her time.

Is she alright?

Satoshi distinctly remembered hearing the hairdryer stop almost five minutes ago.

Eventually, he folded the newspaper, set it down on the table, and walked toward the bathroom.

He knocked twice on the sliding door. “Harada?”

“Y-Yes!”

He could almost picture her flinching on the other side.

“You okay? If you're done, I could make you some coffee.” He paused before adding, “If you want some.”

“Oh... S-Sure. I would appreciate a black coffee.”

Huh.

Now that was interesting.

Harada Risa liked black coffee.

His information about her stopped five years ago, and based on that, he'd always assumed she would prefer something like a café latte.

So it was interesting to learn that she drank black coffee instead.

“Okay. Take your time.”

He returned to the kitchen and spent a moment deciding which beans to use.

He had recently bought some Panamanian beans that were surprisingly good, so he took them out and patiently waited as the machine slowly dripped the dark liquid into the cup.

Dark.

Satoshi frowned slightly.

It had been years since that word had stirred anything in him.

He'd thought he'd gotten used to it.

Yet somehow, he found himself thinking about it again.

Was it because he'd met Harada?

Just then, the bathroom door slid open.

He lifted his head to greet her—

And froze.

Harada stepped out shyly, her long brown hair draped over both shoulders.

His black silk pajamas practically swallowed her whole.

The sleeves had been rolled up several times, and the loose collar dipped lower than it should, brushing against one collarbone.

But that wasn't all.

His eyes widened as the rest of the picture registered.

She wasn't wearing anything underneath.

The pajama shirt reached only to the middle of her thighs, and one hand kept tugging futilely at the hem in an attempt to pull it lower, only to expose more of her neck instead.

Satoshi immediately turned his face away.

Catching his reaction, Harada quickly defended herself.

"I-I didn't have any choice! The pants were way too long, and I couldn't tighten the waistband!"

Her cheeks had already turned pink.

Unfortunately, Satoshi could feel warmth creeping into his own face as well.

“Please... take your seat,” he managed, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the coffee machine.

Harada carefully walked over to the dining table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

As she did, her hair slipped behind one shoulder, and she hurriedly pulled it back to the front again.

The coffee machine released a soft puff of warm air as it finished brewing.

He discarded the used grounds before carrying her cup and his own over to the table.

As he set her coffee beside her, he noticed the oversized pajama shirt had slipped just enough to reveal the curve of her shoulder.

He immediately averted his eyes.

Then the scent reached him.

His shampoo.

On her.

Satoshi adjusted his glasses and calmly returned to his seat, doing his best to maintain his composure.

“Thank you,” Harada said. “And Hiwatari-kun... did you cook? Sorry for the trouble.”

She fidgeted with her hair, but he could hear the excitement in her voice.

At the same time, he could sense the awkwardness in the way she addressed him so formally.

“It was only instant food.”

He still couldn't bring himself to look at her properly, so he kept his gaze fixed on her face whenever he glanced up.

Harada shifted in her seat.

Strangely enough, seeing Harada Risa acting awkward around him eased some of the tension in his own chest.

“How's your head? Can you eat?” he finally asked, keeping his eyes on hers.

Her large brown eyes met his.

For a brief moment, nostalgia washed over him.

“Much better than before. Thanks to you.” She offered him a small smile.

Satoshi lowered his gaze. He'd missed seeing that smile.

Back in middle school, she'd smiled like that all the time.

Especially whenever she talked about that man.

He picked up his chopsticks and quietly began eating.

Harada followed suit.

After taking a sip of her coffee, her face immediately brightened.

“Wow! This is really good!”

A small smile escaped him before he lifted his own cup. “I'm glad.”

Harada continued with the miso soup, spending the next few minutes praising the meal.

In Satoshi's opinion, it was completely unnecessary. 

“I believe you're praising me too much, Harada,” he finally said.

“No, that's not true. I could never imagine you cooking, Hiwatari-kun.”

Well. Fair enough.

“I don't cook very often.” Silence settled between them, broken only by the soft clink of chopsticks and bowls.

Then Harada spoke again. “Did you eat properly?”

Satoshi looked up.

"You used to skip breakfast. Sometimes lunch too."

There was genuine concern in her eyes.

He rarely saw anyone look at him that way. Most people assumed he had everything under control. Very few ever stopped to wonder if he was doing alright.

“I get the nutrition I need.”

“Yeah... I guess you do,” she blurted out before quickly covering her mouth.

Her gaze dropped to his chest.

Satoshi raised an eyebrow. But she didn't elaborate. Instead, she quietly returned to her meal, her cheeks already turning pink again.

It was... interesting.

Whenever Harada blushed, the color had always spread to her neck first.

Without meaning to, his gaze drifted toward her collarbone again.

Satoshi swallowed and forced his attention back to the last few bits of his grilled salmon.

“So... you're living in Tokyo now?” he asked.

Harada looked surprised by the sudden change in topic.

“Yes. I'm currently enrolled at the University of Tokyo.”

His eyebrows lifted. “The University of Tokyo?”

Of course he was surprised. It was the most prestigious university in the country.

He'd attended middle school and a year of high school with her, and while he'd always known she was hardworking, he'd never expected her to end up there.

Harada immediately caught his expression and pouted.

“Hey! I worked hard to get into Todai, you know!” She stuffed a large bite of rice into her mouth and sulked while chewing.

“Which major?”

“College of Design.”

Satoshi slowly set down his chopsticks. “Figured.”

Harada glared at him again.

And strangely enough, something warm stirred inside him.

Amusement?

No...

Something nostalgic.

Something he hadn't felt in a very long time.

Because Harada Risa used to look at him like that all the time.

He waited for Harada to finish eating before standing up. Gathering the trays, he stacked the dirty plates and chopsticks together.

Once again, he tried not to look.

But his eyes betrayed him.

Now that she was sitting down, he realized that while the pajama shirt was long on her, it barely covered the tops of her thighs.

Stop looking.

He silently scolded himself and quickly carried the dishes to the sink.

“Hiwatari-kun, I'll help!” Harada stood and walked over.

With the difference in their heights, Satoshi stood nearly a full head taller than her.

As she stepped closer, the loose collar of the oversized shirt shifted just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her collarbone before his gaze instinctively dropped a little lower.

?!?!

He immediately looked away.

So that was why she'd screamed in the bathroom.

Satoshi let out a long sigh and held out a hand between them, desperately trying to keep some distance.

Or at least keep his eyes off her.

"No, don't worry, Harada. I'm just putting them in the dishwasher."

"No, I can help," she insisted, bending down to look for it.

As she crouched, the oversized pajama shirt shifted forward with her.

Fortunately, Satoshi happened to glance up at the ceiling at exactly the right moment, narrowly avoiding a sight he'd definitely regret.

"Ah! There it is!" She pulled open the dishwasher and looked back at him.

Satoshi had already turned completely away from her, much to her confusion.

"Harada, you're the guest. Please... just sit down." He could feel warmth creeping into his face. His ears were probably red by now.

A moment later, Harada finally realized the oversized shirt wasn't covering nearly as much as she'd thought. She gasped softly, quickly clutching the collar closed before taking a hurried step back. “S-Sorry.”

Satoshi was about to tell her she didn't need to apologize.

But… Well. Considering the amount of trouble she was causing him now... He'd accept the apology.

“You have to wait for your clothes to dry anyway, right? The remote is on the round table.” Adjusting his glasses, Satoshi quickly loaded the dishwasher.

A moment later, he heard the television switch on.

Once the dishwasher was running, he joined her in the living room and sat on the opposite end of the sofa.

"I envy your apartment. The view is spectacular," she said absentmindedly as she flipped through the channels before settling on the news.

Satoshi noticed she'd placed a throw pillow on her lap. Resting his elbow on the armrest, he leaned his head against his hand.

"It sure is."

His gaze drifted toward Harada before he caught himself. That wasn't the view she was talking about.

Fortunately, she didn't seem to notice.

He quietly turned his attention back to the news. The television continued playing in front of them, yet not a single word registered in Satoshi's mind.

They simply sat there.

Five years without seeing each other. No proper goodbye. No confession.

Though, he was fairly certain Harada had known.

It didn't really matter. Back then, there had never been room for him.

Not while her heart still belonged to him.

Satoshi stole another glance at her.

She appeared focused on the news, but he knew her well enough to recognize that her thoughts were elsewhere.

He allowed himself a few more precious seconds to study her face before breaking the silence.

“How are you finding life in Tokyo?”

She looked surprised before turning her attention back to the television. “It's fun. I've made lots of friends at university, and it's so much easier to find things than in Azumano.”

Still resting his head against one hand, Satoshi looked at her. “You've certainly made some... interesting friends.”

It took Harada a second to understand what he meant.

Her face immediately turned red. “That wasn't my friend! We only met!”

Satoshi merely raised an eyebrow. That didn't explain very much.

He was about to say something else. But then again… Who was he to lecture her?

He sighed softly. "You have to be careful, Harada. You know how men can be."

She slowly turned toward him.

Then Satoshi paused.

She was smiling. Yet somehow... It didn't reach her eyes.

"Yeah, I know."

She gave him a bright smile, the kind that made her eyes close.

Except this time, it felt practiced.

Too practiced.

Taken aback, Satoshi fell silent. His fingers tightened around the armrest.

She looked as though she was holding herself together by sheer force of habit.

“Ha—” He was about to call her name when she interrupted him.

“So... tell me about yourself.” She hugged the throw pillow tightly against her chest.

He had interviewed victims before.

People who insisted they were fine.

People who smiled because it was easier than explaining what was wrong.

Harada's smile reminded him of them.

As though something inside her had broken long ago.

Something he had no idea how to fix.

He decided to follow the topic she'd offered instead of pursuing what he'd just seen.

“I've been working in the police force.”

“Figured,” she shot back immediately.

Satoshi looked at her for a moment. He tried to think of what else to tell her. But when he searched his memories... All he found was work.

“I think that's about it. Everything else is basically the same.”

“Eh?! Don't you have any more personal stories than that?” She turned toward him, and he was surprised by how quickly the atmosphere around her had changed.

“Unfortunately, I don't have much drama in my life, Harada.” He answered calmly, never taking his eyes off her.

She looked down and slowly crossed one leg over the other.

“Daisuke-kun and Riku got engaged.”

So she calls Daisuke by his first name now.

“Yes. He told me.”

Harada's eyes widened slightly. “Oh... I didn't see you at the engagement party.”

“I wasn't able to attend in person.”

Because he'd been watching her so closely, he caught the brief flicker of disappointment on her face.

"Well... Saehara got a girlfriend, you know." She shifted her legs again.

A small smile softened Satoshi's expression. "That, I didn't know."

She smiled back.

Once again, silence settled between them.

Strangely enough, now that they'd spoken normally again, the distance between them felt a little smaller.

Yet at the same time, Satoshi found himself thinking about the five years he'd missed.

There had been days when she laughed.

Days when she cried.

Friends she'd met.

Memories she'd made.

An entire chapter of her life that had unfolded without him.

None of it belonged to him.

Those five years would always remain a part of her life he knew nothing about.

Even so...

The silence between them no longer felt quite so distant.

Maybe he still—

The cheerful melody of the washing machine interrupted his thoughts.

Both he and Harada froze.

Even after the melody ended, neither of them moved.

The television continued playing in the background, but Satoshi noticed Harada gently biting her lower lip.

Perhaps neither of them wanted to break this moment just yet.

Or return to reality.

A few minutes later, Harada quietly stood up and walked past him. Once again, the faint scent of his shampoo lingered as she passed.

The bathroom door slid shut, leaving Satoshi alone on the sofa.

This is it.

She would leave. And both of their lives would return to normal.

Today had simply been a strange coincidence.

They were nothing more than old acquaintances who had happened to meet again after five years.

At least... That was probably how she saw him.

Satoshi sighed.

He'd thought time and distance would eventually do their job.

Five years had passed before he knew it.

Somewhere along the way, he'd convinced himself that not knowing how Harada was doing was simply part of moving on.

But seeing her again...

All the distance he'd spent five years putting between them crumbled far more easily than he'd expected.

He stood.

Somehow, his feet had carried him to the bathroom before he'd even made the decision to move.

Maybe… He'd been too quick to assume this would be the last time.

If they had another thirty minutes...

Another walk home...

He wouldn't have minded.

Suddenly, the door slid open.

Harada blinked in surprise when she found him standing there.

“H-Hiwatari-kun...”

Before she could continue, Satoshi spoke.

“Let me take you home.”

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘏𝘪 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴! 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 *𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘬 ;) 𝘖𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘙𝘪𝘴𝘢'𝘴 𝘗𝘖𝘝, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵, 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵, "𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵… 𝘐 𝘕𝘌𝘌𝘋 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘩𝘪'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘰." 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘥 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥! 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘶𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘗𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘩𝘪 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘴𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘥. 😂 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦-𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴… 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘕𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳: 𝘓𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘩𝘪 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 👀 𝘚𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯!

| ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ➪

He adjusted his glasses. “Have you established contact with the helicopters?”

“Yes, sir!”

Satoshi nodded. “We've identified the type of vehicle. Based on its speed, the time of the collision, and current traffic conditions, I've narrowed it down to five possible escape routes.”

He pointed toward the map.

“Helicopter One, search routes one and two. There aren't many high-rise buildings in those areas, so you should be able to cover both.”

“Roger!”

“Team Alpha, proceed to route three. Be careful. There will still be plenty of pedestrians. He won't be able to drive through the crowd, but a desperate suspect is dangerous.”

“Understood!”

“Team Beta, head to route four. Use motorcycles. They'll make it easier to navigate the alleyways.”

“And finally, have Helicopter Two check route five. It's near the bay, so there's a possibility he abandoned the vehicle and escaped on foot. I'll dispatch a support team to conduct a ground search.”

The teams immediately sprang into action.

Headquarters was filled with elite officers who had proven themselves across Japan before being recruited to the capital.

Satoshi was different.

His father had connections among the higher-ups within the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.

Five years ago, after his rather sudden disappearance, one of those executives had personally contacted him and asked whether he would be interested in joining Headquarters.

They were in desperate need of younger talent.

Satoshi accepted and moved to Tokyo.

Over the next five years, he proved himself time and time again. Three promotions followed, and his record quickly filled with solved cases.

Now, at only twenty years old, Hiwatari Satoshi was already leading a team within the First Investigation Division—one of the harshest and most demanding divisions in the entire Criminal Investigation Bureau.

Satoshi adjusted his glasses once more before settling into his chair. Resting an elbow on the desk, he massaged his temple while watching the monitors before him.

The massive display wall was divided into dozens of smaller screens showing body camera footage, dashboard cameras, and live feeds from the helicopters.

Five teams moved simultaneously across Tokyo, and Satoshi's eyes shifted from one screen to the next in rapid succession. They had to catch the suspect tonight. If he escaped, it would take far more manpower and resources to track him down later.

And Hiwatari Satoshi hated inefficiency.

After a grueling forty-five-minute pursuit—

“Suspect apprehended!”

“Vehicle secured!”

Cheers erupted throughout the operations room.

Satoshi leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes in relief.

Clap, clap.

He slowly opened them again. Only one person in the entire Headquarters would dare applaud beside him.

“Looks like you did it again, Satoshi.”

Fujiwara Masato, Director of the Criminal Investigation Bureau, grinned broadly at him.

“Now we're finally free from the hungry media waiting outside.”

The man, now in his fifties, was enormous—even by Western standards. Standing one hundred and eighty-five centimeters tall and built like a former rugby player, he looked as though his suit sleeves might burst at any moment.

Satoshi immediately stood and saluted.

“Excellent work.”

SMACK.

Fujiwara landed a heavy slap on his back.

“Ever since you joined us, the number of suspects caught on the very first day after a vehicle pursuit has increased by thirty percent!”

SMACK.

“Thirty percent!”

Satoshi's expression remained unchanged. He was used to it by now. In some ways, Fujiwara-san reminded him of his father.

“And to think you're only twenty... and still single.” The older man sighed dramatically. “What a waste. I really wish you'd marry my daughter already.”

Satoshi had already declined the proposal more times than he could count. Unfortunately, Fujiwara-san had no intention of giving up.

“Thank you for your kind words, Director Fujiwara. It was a team effort.”

SMACK.

“Oh, come on! Don't be so stiff!” the older man laughed. “You've practically been living in this building all week! If you rack up any more overtime, the labor inspectors are going to come after me!”

Although Fujiwara-san was smiling, Satoshi knew the order was genuine. His overtime hours were approaching the legal limit once again. If it continued, the department itself could face serious consequences.

Satoshi let out a quiet sigh before bowing.

“I gratefully accept your consideration, Director Fujiwara. I will take tomorrow off.”

“And the day after that too!” Fujiwara pointed a finger at him. “That's an order!”

Before Satoshi could respond, several aides surrounded the Director of the Criminal Investigation Bureau and hurried him toward the press room.

Satoshi finally allowed himself to relax.

One of the conditions he'd made when joining the force was simple.

No media appearances.

Fortunately, thanks to the department's high success rate, most press conferences ended on a positive note, and Fujiwara-san handled them personally.

After finalizing his report, Satoshi grabbed his jacket and bid his teammates a brief farewell before leaving the office.

The cold February air greeted him the moment he stepped out of the rear entrance of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Headquarters, avoiding the crowd of reporters and curious onlookers gathered at the front.

Satoshi tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat and let out a quiet sigh.

The work was exhausting.

But if he was being honest, he enjoyed it.

After Dark disappeared, there wasn't much left for him to do at the Azumano Police Department. So when Fujiwara-san contacted him five years ago with an offer to join Headquarters, he accepted without much hesitation.

Besides… If he didn't bury himself in work, he'd end up with too much free time.

And with free time came memories.

Memories of Azumano.

Memories he preferred not to dwell on.

Suddenly, his stomach growled. Satoshi stopped walking.

Come to think of it...

He'd skipped both lunch and dinner again.

His apartment was only a thirty-minute walk from Headquarters, but as usual, the refrigerator contained nothing except bottled water and beer.

After a brief moment of consideration, he changed direction.

An izakaya would do.

The owner welcomed him warmly and guided him to a seat at the counter.

One of the waitresses offered to take his coat and suit jacket. As Satoshi handed them over, he noticed her cheeks gradually turning pink. Choosing not to make her any more flustered than she already was, he simply closed his eyes and thanked her.

At twenty years old, with slightly shorter hair and a pair of glasses, he looked older than his age. More than once, people had mistaken him for someone in his late twenties.

After thanking the waitress, he ordered a salad, sashimi, a few skewers of yakitori, and a beer.

Over the years, he'd grown accustomed to drinking. Most police officers seemed to survive on either cigarettes or beer.

Satoshi had chosen the latter.

While waiting for his order, he glanced around the restaurant. It was his first time visiting this place.

Since it was Friday night, the izakaya was packed. Warm yellow lights bathed the room, and despite the lively chatter, the atmosphere felt surprisingly comfortable.

Somehow, he'd grown accustomed to Tokyo.

Azumano was small. You were bound to run into someone you knew almost every day.

Tokyo, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.

So many people.

So many strangers.

And somehow… He liked that.

Aside from the occasional talent scout or modeling agent who tried to hand him a business card every other week, life around Headquarters and his apartment was peaceful.

"Come on! You can drink more than that!"

The loud voice from behind shattered his thoughts.

Satoshi sighed.

This was the downside of Tokyo.

People became noisy the moment alcohol entered the picture.

Especially university students.

He ignored the voices and took another sip of his beer.

There seemed to be six of them.

Probably a group date, judging by the way they were seated.

“Hey, I think she’s really out.” One of the girls sounded worried.

“Wow, she’s completely gone. You didn’t put something in her drink, did you?” a young man laughed awkwardly.

Even though he had whispered the last part, it was still loud enough for Satoshi to hear. Judging by the uncomfortable look on the owner's face, everyone else had heard it too.

Satoshi frowned.

Five years in the force had probably sharpened his instincts too much.

Still… It was probably nothing serious.

Just a university student who had drunk too much. Even Satoshi occasionally got dragged out for drinks with his colleagues, and some of them could literally pass out after one drink too many.

“Well, I'll take her home then! See you guys!” the young man laughed.

A chorus of whistles erupted from the table. “Oi! You're totally aiming for something!”

“I knew it! You've liked her ever since I showed you her picture before this group date!” one of the girls complained.

“Geez, I didn't think you'd go that far,” another girl muttered. “Anyway, take care of Risa, okay?”

Satoshi froze.

What? No... it's just a coincidence.

He told himself that immediately.

But before his mind could stop him, his head snapped toward the group so quickly that his arm knocked the chopsticks resting on top of his plate, sending them clattering onto the floor.

There, a young man with shoulder-length hair was supporting a brunette woman who could barely stand. One of her arms hung limply over his shoulder as he guided her toward the exit.

The chair scraped loudly against the floor as Satoshi stood.

Without hesitation, he pulled out his wallet and placed a ten-thousand-yen bill on the counter.

The owner looked at him in confusion, but Satoshi didn't spare him an explanation. He was already halfway to the exit before realizing he'd left his coat and suit jacket hanging by the entrance. Clicking his tongue under his breath, he grabbed them and hurried out of the izakaya.

Satoshi caught up with them just as they were about to get into a taxi.

The young woman was already slumped against the back seat.

The man was halfway inside when Satoshi seized his right arm, twisted it behind his back in a restraint hold, and slammed him against the side of the taxi.

“W-What the hell?!” the young man cried out. The smell of alcohol hit Satoshi immediately.

Around them, several pedestrians slowed to watch. Even the taxi driver had stepped out of the vehicle.

Satoshi frowned.

Normally, he wouldn't act this recklessly in public. But tonight his patience was running dangerously thin.

Lowering his voice, he spoke a single word.

“Police.”

That alone was enough to drain the color from the young man's face.

“I heard your conversation inside.” His grip tightened. “If you really put something in her drink, we'll have it tested. Depending on the results, you'll be spending the night in a holding cell.”

“N-No! Officer, it's a misunderstanding!” The young man's face turned deathly pale. “I-I don't know what happened to her! Maybe she's just tired—”

Satoshi slammed him against the taxi once more. The entire vehicle rocked slightly, and the young man let out a frightened yelp.

“I don't care.” His voice remained calm. “If you don't want trouble, disappear.”

The young man's body trembled.

“And if I ever hear you've used some kind of medicine again...” Satoshi's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “Pray I'm not the officer assigned to your case.”

He released him.

The young man stumbled backward before collapsing onto the pavement. “M-Misunderstanding! Thank you! I'm sorry!”

Barely able to stay on his feet, he turned and fled.

“Sir!” The elderly taxi driver stared at him in confusion. “What happened? Should we call an ambulance?”

Satoshi took a slow breath.

“Please wait a moment.” He said then climbed into the taxi.

The brunette woman sat on the opposite side, completely unaware of the commotion. Her head rested against the window.

Fast asleep.

Slowly, almost carefully, Satoshi moved closer.

He was surprised by how loudly his heartbeat echoed in his ears. Without realizing it, he swallowed hard as his hesitant fingers brushed a few strands of hair away from her face.

His breath caught and he froze.

The sounds around them suddenly faded into silence.

It had been five years. Five years since he'd last seen her.

Yet somehow…

Harada Risa hadn't changed very much.

Her hair was longer now, reaching almost to her back. And just as silky as he remembered.

Her cheeks were flushed red.

Maybe from the alcohol.

Maybe from whatever that idiot had slipped into her drink.

“What are you doing here... Harada?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Without realizing it, his fingertips gently brushed against her too warm cheek.

“Sir?” The taxi driver's voice behind him pulled him back to reality.

Satoshi blinked.

Quickly, he stepped out of the taxi and showed his badge. “I'm with the Metropolitan Police Department.”

He briefly explained the situation and assured the elderly driver that he knew the young woman. Fortunately, the man seemed relieved.

“Then where should I take you?”

Satoshi hesitated, then “I'll give you the address.”

The words left his mouth so naturally that he didn't even realize he'd decided to bring Harada Risa back to his apartment.

The taxi driver nodded.

“It's only five minutes away,” Satoshi added before climbing back into the taxi.

The old driver closed the door behind him, and the brief silence returned.

Satoshi pinched the bridge of his nose beneath the frame of his glasses before adjusting the coat and suit jacket draped over his left arm.

The old man smiled as he settled back into the driver's seat.

“That's lucky. The young woman should get some proper rest.”

Satoshi silently agreed.

Lucky.

Because if he'd arrived even ten minutes later—

His grip on his thigh tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric of his trousers. His jaw clenched almost unconsciously. Satoshi rarely wore his emotions on his face, which was probably why he could feel his brow knitting together in annoyance now.

He closed his eyes and took a slow breath, trying to calm himself.

The taxi came to a gentle stop.

When he opened his eyes again, the familiar apartment building stood just outside the window.

They had arrived.

After paying the taxi driver extra for the trouble, Satoshi bent down and carefully lifted the sleeping girl into his arms—bridal style. His coat and suit jacket remained folded over one arm, unintentionally becoming a small cushion behind Harada's back, while her purse still rested neatly on her lap.

“Eh?” The elderly taxi driver blinked. “You're strong, young man.”

Satoshi simply nodded, choosing not to comment. “Thank you for your help.”

Thankfully, his apartment wasn't one of those luxurious high-rise condominiums. If it were, the lobby and elevators would still be crowded at this hour.

The last thing he wanted was unnecessary attention.

As soon as he entered the building, he glanced around.

No one.

Good.

He walked quickly toward the elevator and pressed the button.

The doors opened almost immediately.

Satoshi was relieved to find the elevator empty. He stepped inside, instinctively tightening his hold on Harada as he passed through the doorway.

A few seconds later, the elevator doors closed and began their ascent to the twelfth floor. Only then did he finally glance down.

Harada was sleeping peacefully against his chest. Her head rested lightly against him, and her breathing was calm. Her face was slightly flushed, but not alarmingly so.

She seemed comfortable.

Too comfortable.

And something inside him boiled again. If he had arrived just a few minutes later...

No.

Don't think about it.

A few moments later, the elevator doors opened. He walked straight to the apartment at the end of the hallway. After fumbling briefly with his keys, he stepped inside.

He kicked off his leather shoes rather ungracefully. Balancing Harada in his arms, he somehow managed to slip them off without using his hands before carefully making his way toward the bedroom.

Once inside his dark bedroom, Satoshi slowly lowered Harada onto the bed. Skillfully, he slipped his coat and suit jacket out from beneath her before gently letting her head rest on his pillow.

His right arm, still supporting her legs, remained hovering just above the sheets, careful not to let her shoes touch the bed.

With one smooth motion, he turned from facing the bed until his back was against it, all while keeping Harada's lower body supported on his right arm.

He sat down at the edge of the bed and rested both of her legs across his thighs.

The movement earned him a soft mumble from the sleeping woman.

Immediately, Satoshi froze.

“…Harada?”

Satoshi looked up at her face, but the only response was her slow, steady breathing.

He sighed softly before gently taking hold of one of her ankles and reaching for the strap of her short heel. Satoshi wasn't familiar with women's shoes at all, but fortunately, this pair wasn't too complicated.

He managed to slip off the first heel before moving to her other foot. The feeling of her ankle resting against his thigh stirred something inside him, but he forced himself to focus on the shoes instead.

Within seconds, he had removed the other heel as well.

After a brief hesitation, Satoshi gently lifted her legs from his lap and laid them onto the bed.

He carried the pair back to the entrance before finally returning to put away his own leather shoes and hang up his suit jacket and coat properly.

Then, walking back into the bedroom, Satoshi reached into his pocket and pulled out a small penlight. Switching it on, he gently lifted one of her eyelids and examined her pupils.

Normal.

Breathing steady.

Her pulse was a little elevated, but not irregular.

No signs of distress.

He exhaled softly.

“I guess it was just sleeping pills…”

Loosening his necktie, Satoshi let out a deep sigh.

His gaze drifted to the woman sleeping peacefully on his bed, and he froze as reality finally caught up with him.

He had just brought Harada back to his own apartment.

After five years.

Five years without seeing her. Without hearing her voice. Without knowing how she'd been. Without knowing whether she'd found the happiness he'd wished for her.

Satoshi removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

It had been a long time since he'd acted without considering the consequences.

Still—

He was glad she was safe. That much, he couldn't deny.

His gaze drifted toward the sleeping woman again.

Even after all these years, Harada hadn't changed very much. She still looked exactly as he remembered.

Only now with longer hair... and makeup.

His gaze fell to her clothes. Even in the dim light of his bedroom, he could tell they were thinner than he'd expected for the cold February weather.

A black turtleneck sweater and a fluffy short skirt.

Transparent tights...

The hem of her skirt had ridden up slightly when he'd laid her legs back onto the bed.

Satoshi abruptly turned away and shut his eyes. His head shook almost on its own, as though trying to chase away the unwelcome thoughts forming in his mind. Once again, he felt his heartbeat quicken, and he couldn't help feeling disappointed in himself.

After all this time, now that he was twenty years old, he'd thought he had finally become a proper adult. Anyone who knew him at Headquarters would probably agree. Calm. Cold. Collected.

But look at him now...

He glanced at Harada's sleeping face and found himself annoyed by how effortlessly she could shatter that composure.

While asleep, no less.

He let out another sigh and tried to steady his heartbeat.

For goodness' sake.

He wasn't a kid anymore.

Almost automatically, his thumb and middle finger found his forehead and began to massage his temples.

Her coat.

Where was her coat?

He knew she'd been carrying her small purse the whole time.

But not her coat.

Maybe she'd left it at the restaurant.

Her friends would probably notice and bring it home with them...

Maybe.

Not if they all had their own agendas tonight.

Perhaps he could stop by the restaurant tomorrow and ask. It wasn't that far away, anyway.

Running a hand through his shorter blue hair, Satoshi pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.

The bedroom remained dim, lit only by the faint light spilling in from the hallway. It was just enough for him to make out her sleeping face.

For five years—

He had imagined countless ways he might see Harada Risa again.

By chance on the street or at a train station.

Maybe at Niwa's wedding or even at a funeral.

But never—Never like this.

His expression softened as his hand found her warm cheek once more. Perhaps because his hand was colder, the sleeping girl unconsciously leaned into his touch.

He let his hand linger there for a few moments before the strain of leaning over the bed finally caught up with him.

Slowly, he withdrew his hand and whispered,

“…Good night, Harada.”

Hiwatari Satoshi quietly retreated to the living room.

Tonight, he would sleep on the couch.

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘐'𝘮 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬! 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳! 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶… 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘩𝘪'𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘥: 𝘍𝘶𝘫𝘪𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘢-𝘴𝘢𝘯! 😂 𝘞𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘕𝘦𝘹𝘵, 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘙𝘪𝘴𝘢'𝘴 𝘗𝘖𝘝! 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥!

| ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ➪

“Good morning, Harada-san!” Niwa Daisuke greeted her when Risa reached her seat.

He looked more mature and taller now that they had entered high school.

Risa sometimes took pictures of him and sent them to Riku—with Niwa-kun's permission, of course. The older Harada sister was still desperate to meet him every now and then.

Risa returned his greeting.

Again, that feeling. Every time she saw Niwa-kun, she felt like she had something to say. Or perhaps something about him reminded her of that dream—

“Ah! Good morning, Hiwatari-san!”

Daisuke said that to someone standing behind her.

Slowly, Risa turned her head toward the light blue-haired boy.

He was much taller now. Around five centimeters taller than Niwa-kun. Risa's head only reached his shoulder.

“Good morning, Daisuke.”

He smiled lightly at his best friend before his blue eyes slowly turned toward her.

“And you too, Harada.”

His voice was soft, but somehow she felt something tighten in her chest.

Risa mumbled her greeting back and quickly sat at her desk. Hiwatari sat diagonally behind her to the right, and she could almost feel his eyes on her.

Last night, Hiwatari-kun had sent her home without another word.

What did he mean by helping her remember?

Before she could think further, the teacher entered the classroom and classes began.

---

The day felt unusually long, but eventually school ended.

Without looking behind her, Risa turned to Niwa-kun, who sat beside her, and said, “I have something to do today, so I'll head home first!”

“Ah, sure. See you tomorrow, Harada-san!”

Niwa-kun beamed brightly, and Risa smiled back before quickly running away.

She didn't know why, but she was avoiding Hiwatari-kun.

She wanted to remember.

Yes, she really wanted to.

But there was something inside her that made it difficult to face him directly.

Whenever she looked at him, she felt like she was betraying someone.

But who?

Risa ran past several classmates who called out and asked why she was in such a hurry, but she simply waved and brushed past them.

She had already reached a block away from the school grounds when she suddenly felt a strong tug on her right hand from behind.

Due to the sudden yank, Risa almost lost her balance, but an arm wrapped around her and supported her before she could fall.

She quickly looked up and found him. Slightly out of breath, his light blue hair had fallen over his forehead, dampened by a thin layer of sweat.

“Hi-Hiwatari-kun?”

His breathing gradually steadied, but he still held her right hand. Like he was afraid she would run again.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

The question came so directly that Risa was caught by surprise.

He sure had changed a lot.

“I-I don't know how to… talk to you after yesterday.”

He slowly released his grip and pushed the hair away from his forehead.

“Look, Harada,” he began. “Allow me to help you. Can I pick you up tonight at eight? I'll escort you back by around nine.”

“Huh? What?”

Risa stared at him dumbfounded, but he had already turned on his heels.

“You want to remember it, right? Then I'll come pick you up later. See you.”

Without facing her, he simply walked away.

Risa stood there for several minutes.

Did he really think of a way to help her remember that dream?

How?

And…

Why was he so eager to help her?

---

That night, at 7:50 p.m.

Risa quickly finished dinner and told her mother that she'd be sleeping early.

Ever since that day, her mother had been trying her best while her father was overseas with Riku. She had been so worried about Risa, and now she seemed genuinely happy that her daughter was finally willing to sleep earlier.

“Why, of course, Risa. You really should sleep early. Here, take this warm cocoa. Good night, sweetheart.” Her mother hugged her tightly.

Risa felt guilty.

Her mother was so worried about her, but Risa herself didn't know how to fix what was broken inside her.

After closing the door to her room and turning off the light, she quietly climbed down from the second-floor balcony.

Now that she thought about it, she had been pretty adventurous during middle school.

She used to sneak out like this all the time, looking for…

Something.

Someone.

Didn't she?

Or was that just a dream too?

She was taller now, and still had trouble navigating the balcony.

What had made her middle school self move so desperately?

Was it really that important?

Was the person she wanted to meet really that important?

Finally, she arrived at the front gate.

And there he was.

Under the darkness, his light blue hair and white sweater almost seemed to shine.

Like… An angel.

Wait.

Had she seen him somewhere before?

She felt like she'd met Hiwatari-kun somewhere. But not really him.

He watched as she slowly approached.

Today, his expression was unusually easy to read. He looked relieved to see her. But that relief soon turned into concern.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes, but where are we going?”

He turned on his heels and started walking. “Follow me.”

Risa gulped and tried to suppress the uneasiness inside her.

It wasn't that she felt unsafe with Hiwatari-kun.

Not at all.

But there was something inside her heart that felt strangely uneasy about the two of them being alone together.

Why?

He had always been such a good friend to her.

He was also the one who had escorted her home that day.

When everything around her had fallen apart.

He was there.

Only him.

“We're here.”

His voice brought her back, and Risa stopped behind him.

They had arrived at an old chapel not far from her house.

It was covered in bushes, but since it was autumn, there weren't many bugs around them, which she appreciated.

“Wow, I didn't know there was an old chapel around here.”

As she followed him, Hiwatari held back the large branches so she could walk beside him, and the chapel grew larger as they approached.

It was old. The white paint had chipped away, especially where ivy had begun to overtake the right side of the wall.

The windows, however, remained intact.

It was almost as though time had stopped around the chapel, and only the ivy had continued to grow.

Hiwatari-kun pushed open the double doors, and they creaked loudly.

The doors slowly swung inward, sending dust floating into the night air.

Risa closed her eyes briefly.

It smelled like dust.

Rain.

And grass.

“Are you sure we can go inside?” she asked.

When she opened her eyes again, they widened in surprise.

Past Hiwatari, she could see the chapel's interior.

It was spacious, with a ceiling nearly seven meters high, making it feel incredibly open. Moonlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the room.

The scent of dust lingered everywhere, but the tiny particles floating in the air sparkled like countless diamonds.

“It's okay. This chapel hasn't been used for years. The police won't arrest us for coming here.”

His lips curved ever so slightly. “Besides, I think this place would be happy to have visitors after all this time.”

Risa followed his gaze around the chapel.

It really was beautiful. The wooden pews were wrapped in ivy, and weeds had grown around the altar. But aside from that, she saw no graffiti and nothing broken.

In a way, it felt well-maintained. As though someone had simply abandoned it and allowed time to quietly settle inside.

Risa wandered deeper into the chapel, examining every nook and cranny. But she stopped when she heard Hiwatari-kun close the doors behind them.

She looked at him uneasily, and it seemed he understood the meaning behind her gaze.

“Harada.”

He called her name and slowly walked closer.

Risa turned to face him. And once again, that strange uneasiness rose to the surface.

“Wh-What are we planning to do here, Hiwatari-kun?” She was surprised by how much her own voice betrayed her. It trembled slightly. Still, she stood her ground and didn't move.

Hiwatari-kun walked closer and closer until he stopped right in front of her.

His chest was directly before her eyes, and she had to tilt her head upward to meet his blue gaze.

At first, his face remained expressionless. But was it her imagination?

His expression softened.

No…

He almost looked sad.

“You wanted to remember it, right?”

His voice was soft. Almost a whisper.

“You mean my dream? So it really wasn’t a dream?”

Hiwatari-kun didn't answer.

He looked deeply into her eyes, and Risa couldn't quite understand the emotion hidden within his expression.

“I can't answer that for sure.” His voice remained quiet.

“But you want to remember something…”

He paused.

“Or should I say someone?”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes before opening them again.

His long lashes brushed lightly against his bangs as he lowered his gaze toward her.

“This is my suggestion.”

And then, very quietly—

“I'll help you remember those feelings.”

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘜𝘱𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴! 🤭💙 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥~ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘬. 𝘊𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵! 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥 ♡

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