Familiar Strangers

The weight of Komaru's gaze lingered even as the conversation around us carried on. I could still hear the soft chatter of my friends, the clinking of utensils against ceramic plates, but it all felt distant—like I had stepped out of sync with reality for just a moment.

I glanced back at her, searching for the right words, but before I could speak, Komaru leaned back, her expression unreadable. "Guess we'll talk later."

Would we?

I wasn't sure, but as I forced myself to focus on the present, one thought lingered in my mind.

Why did I feel like I had met her before?

That lingering thought wouldn't leave my mind, gnawing at the edges of my focus.

A sharp snap of fingers in front of me jolted me back to reality. Kane arched an eyebrow. "What are you doing, Yuki?"

I blinked, shaking off the haze in my mind. Kane's dark eyes studied me with mild curiosity, but there was an undertone of impatience in her voice.

"Nothing," I muttered, forcing a smile. "Just thinking."

Kane scoffed. "Yeah? Try thinking a little faster. The waiter's still standing there."

I turned to find the waiter, not-so-subtly waiting for my order. Heat crawled up my neck as I quickly skimmed the menu, barely processing the words before blurting out the first thing that caught my eye.

"The udon set," I said, handing the menu over.

The waiter nodded and moved on, but my mind wasn't done racing. I stole another glance at Komaru. She was chatting with Haru now, laughing at something he said, as if our brief exchange had never happened.

And maybe it hadn't meant anything.

Maybe I was overthinking it.

But as I picked up my glass of water, I caught her stealing a glance at me from the corner of her eye.

Yeah.

She wasn't done with this conversation either.

The air in the restaurant felt heavier now, like there was something unspoken lingering between us. I took a sip of my water, letting the coolness ground me, but it didn't do much to steady the unease curling in my chest.

Komaru had gone back to her conversation with Haru, but there was a knowing glint in her eye—like she was waiting for me to slip up, to say something that would reveal more than I intended.

I wasn't sure what unnerved me more: the feeling that she was testing me… or the fact that I had no idea why.

"You're acting weird," Kane said, jabbing a chopstick in my direction. "Did you hit your head or something?"

I forced a chuckle, shaking my head. "Just tired."

Kane gave me a skeptical look but didn't push further. The others were too preoccupied with their conversations to notice the shift in me, but I felt it.

Something about Komaru was off.

And worse?

I had a sinking feeling that I was about to find out why.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional inside joke I barely registered. I nodded when appropriate, smiled when expected, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

More specifically—on Komaru.

She didn't look at me again. Not directly, at least. But I felt it. That quiet awareness. That invisible thread connecting us, growing tighter with each passing second.

By the time we left the restaurant, the night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain. Streetlights flickered, casting long shadows on the pavement as we made our way down the road.

"Alright, I'm heading this way," Kane announced, stretching her arms. She turned to Komaru with a questioning look. "And you? Aren't you going home?"

Komaru shook her head. "No, it's gonna take some time."

Kane shrugged. "Alright then. See you guys tomorrow."

One by one, the group began to split, each heading their way.

Until, eventually, it was just me.

And Komaru.

She stood beside me at the crosswalk, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets. The silence between us was louder than it should've been.

Then, without looking at me, she spoke.

"You're not going to ask, are you?"

I stiffened. "Ask what?"

She finally turned, meeting my gaze—steady, expectant. "How do you know me?"

My breath caught.

I had been trying to avoid that very question all night. Because the truth was—I didn't know.

But standing there, under the dim glow of the streetlight, something in her expression sent a shiver down my spine.

She knew something I didn't.

And for the first time that night, I wasn't sure if I wanted to find out.

A car passed by, its headlights briefly illuminating her face—calm, unreadable.

My throat felt dry. I should've said something, asked something, but my mind was blank.

Komaru sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I had a feeling," she murmured, more to herself than to me.

The light changed. The signal beeped, urging us to cross.

She started walking first. I hesitated for just a second before following.

The city was quieter at this hour, the streets lined with dimly lit convenience stores and the occasional lone cyclist passing by. My footsteps fell in sync with hers, but neither of us spoke.

I kept stealing glances at her, waiting for her to say something.

She didn't.

And maybe that was what made it worse.

"So," I finally said, breaking the silence, "what do you mean by that?"

Komaru didn't stop walking. She didn't even look at me. But I noticed the way her fingers curled into the fabric of her jacket sleeves.

"I mean," she said, "you looked at me like you knew me. And not in the way most people do."

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She came to a stop at the next intersection, tilting her head as if studying me. Then, finally, she smiled—small, fleeting.

"You don't remember, do you?"

The hairs on my arms rose.

Before I could say anything, she turned, taking a step backward as she waved. "See you tomorrow, Yuki."

Then, just like that, she was gone, disappearing down a narrow side street.

I stood there, my mind racing.

I don't remember her.

Do I?

But as I turned to head home, a single thought chilled me to the bone.

If I didn't remember her—

Why did she remember me?

I stood there for a moment, staring at the empty street where Komaru had disappeared. Her words lingered in my mind, but I shook them off with a sigh.

I didn't remember her. And maybe that should've bothered me more than it did.

With a deep breath, I turned and started walking home. The city was quieter now, the distant hum of traffic blending with the occasional rustle of the wind. My footsteps echoed against the pavement as I passed dimly lit storefronts and closed cafés.

I adjusted the strap of my bag, trying to focus on anything other than the strange conversation I had just had. The night air was cool against my skin, and for the first time all evening, I let myself relax.

As I reached home, I unlocked the door. The house was silent, wrapped in darkness. I flicked on the living room light, and there she was—my sister, curled up on the couch, her arms tucked under her head as if she had dozed off waiting for me.

She stirred at the brightness, blinking up at me sleepily.

"Had dinner?" I asked.

She didn't answer right away. But then—

Growl.

Her stomach betrayed her, the sound cutting through the silence.

I sighed, setting my bag down. "I'll take that as a no."

She looked away, rubbing her arm awkwardly.

I shook my head and headed toward the kitchen. "Come on, I'll make something."

A moment passed before she sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Thanks, Yuki."

I pulled out some leftover rice and eggs from the fridge, deciding to make something quick. The sound of the pan heating up filled the quiet kitchen, and I could hear my sister shuffling behind me. She sat at the table, resting her chin on her hand as she watched me cook.

"You should at least text me if you're skipping dinner," I muttered, cracking an egg into the pan.

She yawned. "Didn't feel like eating alone."

I paused for a second before flipping the egg. "Not an excuse."

She didn't say anything after that, just kept watching. It was weird—how she could be so normal sometimes, like we were just any other siblings. But I knew better. I knew what she was really like.

And yet, even with that thought lingering in the back of my mind, I still placed the plate in front of her when I was done. She didn't hesitate, picking up her chopsticks and digging in.

"Eat slow," I sighed, sitting across from her.

She only hummed in response, already halfway through her meal. I leaned back in my chair, exhausted from the night. The quiet between us wasn't uncomfortable, but my mind wouldn't settle.

Komaru's words from earlier echoed in my head. You don't remember, do you?

Why did she say that? And why did it feel like she was right?

I exhaled, pushing the thought aside for now.

"You should go to bed after this," I told my sister. "It's late."

She nodded, still focused on her food.

Eventually, I stood up, stretched, and headed toward my room. But just as I reached the hallway, I heard her speak.

Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

"Yuki… do you ever feel like you've forgotten something important?"

I stopped in my tracks.

For some reason, the question sent a shiver down my spine.