The Girl in the Shadows

The morning light filtered through the windows as Ili stepped into the bustling courtyard. His gaze swept the area, scanning faces and movements with a focus he couldn't quite explain. He didn't know why, but his thoughts kept circling back to the girl—Kouko.

The name echoed in his mind like a stubborn refrain, refusing to let go. He hadn't mentioned it to Haru or Daiki, but their subtle glances and knowing smirks told him they were aware of his distraction.

"Hey, Ili, over here!" Haru's voice cut through the noise, drawing his attention. He waved from a bench near the fountain, gesturing for Ili to join them. "You're gonna miss the best part of Daiki's midterm horror story."

Ili managed a faint smirk as he approached, sitting down beside them. Daiki was midway through a dramatic retelling of his late-night cram session, complete with exaggerated gestures and voices, but Ili's focus was elsewhere. His gaze flickered to the far side of the plaza, drawn by a glint of sunlight catching on golden hair near the library steps.

His chest tightened, and for a moment, everything else faded into the background. The figure moved quickly, weaving through the crowd, and he leaned forward slightly, his body unconsciously tense. It was her—it had to be.

"Yo, Ili." Haru nudged him sharply, breaking the spell. "You okay? You look like you're miles away."

Ili blinked, quickly pulling his attention back. "I'm fine," he said, a little too quickly, waving it off. "Just tired."

Haru didn't look convinced. "Sure. Just tired."

Daiki snickered, leaning in. "Is 'tired' code for something else? You've been acting weird all week."

"Drop it," Ili muttered, brushing them off as he turned his gaze back to where he'd seen her. The library steps were empty now, the crowd moving as if nothing had happened. He let out a slow breath, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Later that afternoon, Ili crossed the plaza, his eyes scanning the familiar paths and bustling groups of students. He told himself he wasn't looking for her—not actively—but his pulse quickened when he saw her.

She was near the campus bookstore, her golden hair catching the late afternoon light as she stood by the entrance. Even from this distance, he recognized the way she carried herself, the slight tilt of her head as she glanced toward the crowd.

His legs moved before his mind could catch up, his path adjusting as he cut through clusters of students and vendors. The crowd seemed thicker than usual, each step requiring more effort, but he didn't slow down. His heart thudded against his ribs, a mix of determination and anticipation propelling him forward.

The girls head turned slightly, her gaze sweeping over the plaza. For a split second, their eyes met. Her body stiffened visibly, a fleeting expression of alarm crossing her face before she turned sharply and disappeared into the bookstore.

Ili quickened his pace, weaving through the throng with practiced ease. By the time he reached the entrance, she was already out of sight. The bookstore was a maze of narrow aisles, packed with shelves that stretched toward the ceiling, their spines a kaleidoscope of colors and titles. He slowed, his footsteps soft against the polished floor, his ears straining to pick up the faintest sound.

He moved methodically, scanning each row with precision, but she was nowhere to be found. A few students glanced up as he passed, their curious looks quickly returning to their books. His jaw tightened as he made another pass through the store, the sensation of being close to something important gnawing at him.

Near the back, he stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing at a flicker of movement behind a tall shelf. He stepped closer, peering around the corner, but it was just a student shifting their bag. She was gone.

Frustration bubbled up, and he ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sharp breath. She was avoiding him—there was no doubt about it now. Every time he got close, she slipped away, leaving only the lingering feeling that he was chasing shadows.

He left the bookstore, the cool air outside doing little to calm the restless energy thrumming through him. His fists clenched at his sides as he walked back across the plaza, his mind racing with questions. Why was she running from him? And why did it feel like he'd been through this before?

The four of them sat in a quiet corner of the campus library, their voices kept low amidst the soft hum of studying students. Haru leaned back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers, while Daiki drummed his knuckles on the table, his expression unusually tense.

"This is bad," Haru muttered, breaking the silence. "He's been looking for her all day. I saw him near the library earlier, asking around."

Daiki frowned. "Of course he is. You saw him last night, didn't you? He knows something's up."

"He doesn't know anything," Mika interjected, her tone sharp but quiet. "He just… feels it. That's all it is. He can't connect the dots yet."

"But what if he does?" Haru countered, his voice rising slightly before Rina shot him a warning glance. He sighed, lowering his tone. "What if this time it's different?"

"It won't be," Mika said firmly, though her fingers tightened around her notebook. "It can't be. She's keeping her distance. That's what matters."

Daiki leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "She shouldn't have gone after him Monday night. I get why she did it—adrenaline, panic, whatever—but now he's more determined than ever. The guy's relentless."

"It wasn't just adrenaline," Rina said quietly, her gaze fixed on the edge of the table. "She cares about him. You know that."

"And that's the problem," Daiki said, his jaw tightening. "It's not just about what she feels. It's about what happens if he remembers."

"Stop," Mika snapped, glaring at him. "Don't even say it."

Rina looked up, her voice barely audible. "It's not like we can keep him in the dark forever."

Haru exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "We're not talking about forever. Just for now. She has a plan, doesn't she? Avoid him. He'll stop looking once—" He paused, his throat tightening. "Once he…."

The word hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. None of them dared to say it outright, but the weight of the truth was palpable.

"What if he doesn't stop?" Daiki asked after a long silence. "What if he keeps chasing her? He's stubborn. You all know that."

"He'll stop," Mika said, though her voice lacked conviction. "He has to."

Rina shook her head, her expression somber. "But for how long? How many more times can we do this before…" She trailed off, unwilling to finish the thought.

Haru's pen clattered onto the table as he leaned forward. "We're not giving up on him. We just have to keep him distracted until then. Classes, projects, whatever it takes. We owe him that much."

"And Kouko?" Daiki asked. "She's barely holding it together. I saw her earlier. She was shaking just from walking past the art building."

"She'll manage," Mika said, though her tone softened. "She always does."

"She shouldn't have to," Rina said, her voice tinged with frustration. "None of us should. This isn't fair—to her, or to him."

Daiki leaned back, crossing his arms. "Fair or not, this is the reality we're stuck with. Kouko's doing what she thinks is best—for his sake. For all of ours."

Silence settled over the group as they exchanged uneasy glances. Somewhere across the campus, they knew Ili was still searching, driven by a determination they couldn't let him follow through on.

"I just hope," Haru said finally, his voice quieter now, "that this doesn't blow up in our faces."

By midweek, her avoidance became almost an art form. Ili would catch a glimpse of her in the school hallway, only to have her duck into the ladies bathroom just as he approached. In the library, she stayed hidden behind towering bookshelves, slipping away whenever he got close. Each time he tried to close the distance, she managed to escape, leaving him more determined than ever.

Even in class, she was elusive. She kept her head low, her seat strategically chosen far from his. Once, their eyes met briefly across the lecture hall, and for a fleeting moment, her expression softened. But then she quickly turned away, leaving him with the unsettling feeling that he's being avoided on purpose.

Haru and Daiki noticed his growing distraction, their playful remarks masking a deeper concern.

"You've been acting weird," Daiki said one afternoon as they walked to the gym. "Distracted. Staring into space. Something on your mind?"

Ili hesitated. "Not really."

"Liar," Haru said with a smirk. "You're looking for someone."

Ili shot him a sharp look. "What are you talking about?"

Daiki chuckled. "Come on, man. We're not blind. You've been chasing after that girl since Monday."

Ili didn't reply, his jaw tightening.

"You're gonna stress yourself out," Haru added, trying to sound casual. "Maybe just… let it go?"

Ili stopped walking, turning to them. "Why would I let it go?"

They exchanged a brief glance, their silence louder than words.

It was Friday afternoon when she ran out of places to hide. Ili had been walking through the quieter part of campus, his footsteps echoing against the empty hallway walls, when he saw her.

This time, she didn't notice him at first. She was standing by the window, her back turned, lost in thought. The sunlight streamed through the glass, catching her golden hair and giving her an almost ethereal glow. Ili's heart pounded as he approached, his steps deliberate but cautious.

"Kouko!"

She froze. Slowly, she turned to face him, her expression a mix of surprise and resignation. "Ili," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

'Good, it is you. We need to talk," he said firmly, stepping closer. "No more running."

Her eyes darted around, searching for an escape, but there was none. She backed up a step, her back brushing against the wall. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't lie to me," Ili said, his voice steady but intense. "You've been avoiding me all week. Why?"

She hesitated, her hands clenching at her sides. "I… I've just been busy."

"Busy?" Ili repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. "Then explain this. Monday night, it was you right when we were in the rain, I said your name. Kouko… Aihara Kouko. How did I know it? I don't remember meeting you, but I knew your name."

Kouko's breath hitched, and for a moment, her mask slipped. Her eyes filled with a sorrow that struck Ili like a blow to the chest. "You said it," she admitted finally, her voice trembling. "You said my name."

"Why?" Ili pressed. "Why does it feel like I know you when I don't remember anything?"

She sighed, her shoulders tensing, and for a split second, her mask slipped. Her eyes held a flicker of sorrow, and she looked at him with a softness that made his heart ache. "Ili," she said, and the way she spoke his name felt intimate, heavy with meaning. Tears welled in her eyes, and she looked at him.

 "Yes. We do know each other."

His breath caught. "Then why did you pretend we didn't?"

Her hands tightened and she looked away. "Because… it's complicated," she whispered. Her voice was thick with emotion, and he realized she was holding back tears. "I've been waiting for you to remember, but I can't tell you everything. Not yet."

The wind picked up, scattering leaves in a dance around them. Ili's mind raced. He didn't understand, but he could feel the weight of something huge, something he was missing.

"Why not?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice.

She looked back at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Because some truths are too painful," she said. "And I need to know you're ready before I can tell you."

He wanted to demand answers, to make sense of the puzzle pieces that wouldn't fit. But the raw vulnerability in her eyes stopped him, and he could only watch as she stood, her scarf slipping from her shoulders.

It fell to the ground, and he picked it up, the fabric soft and familiar. "Wait," he called out, but she was already walking away, her figure fading into the sunlight.

He clutched the scarf, a thousand questions swirling in his mind, and one undeniable realization: he couldn't let this go. Not until he understood the connection that bound them, the truth buried in the fragments of déjà vu that haunted him.

As Ili watched Kouko disappear into the throng of students, he couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu, like a shadow trailing too closely behind. Her words echoed in his mind: I've been waiting for you to remember. What did she mean by that? And why did it feel like the pieces were there, just out of reach?

He lingered a moment longer, the warmth of her scarf still clutched in his hand. Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Before Ili could say more, she slipped past him, disappearing into the crowd. He didn't chase her this time. He stood there, staring after her, his chest tight with questions and the faint echo of her voice ringing in his ears.

 The time the third week of school rolled around, Ili felt like he was losing his grip on reality. The days blended together, each one a slightly warped reflection of the last. He went through the same routines, had the same conversations, and sat in the same classes, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was slipping away from him. It was like trying to hold onto water, the memories slipping through his fingers no matter how hard he tried to make sense of them.

He found himself wandering campus paths with a strange sense of purpose, like he was searching for something he couldn't name. But the moment he stepped into the open space, his breath caught in his throat.

There she was, sitting on the edge of a stone planter, her golden hair shimmering under the late afternoon sun. She seemed entirely absorbed in her phone, the soft breeze teasing a few loose strands across her face. The moment Ili saw her, everything around him dulled—the noise of chattering students, the rustle of leaves, even his own thoughts.

It's her.

His chest tightened, and a wave of unease swept through him. He remembered her—he was sure of it. The name hovered on the edge of his mind, elusive and fragile, like a bird just out of reach. He clenched his fists, his feet rooted to the ground.

Ili swallowed hard. Say it. Just say her name. The thought echoed, urgent and insistent. But his throat felt dry, and the syllables tangled, refusing to form. He forced himself to take a step forward, then another.

As if sensing his presence, she looked up. Her eyes widened, a flicker of surprise flashing across her face before her expression softened into something more guarded. Her lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Ili," she said softly, her voice like a melody he couldn't place. "We meet again."

His heart thudded painfully in his chest. Her saying his name felt both comforting and disorienting, as though it carried a history he couldn't grasp. He tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. His tongue felt heavy, his mind a jumble of fragmented thoughts.

"K…" he started, the sound barely audible. His brow furrowed, frustration tightening his jaw. He knew this—he knew her name. It was right there, taunting him.

She tilted her head slightly, her smile faltering. "Ili?" she prompted, her voice tinged with caution.

"K-Kou…" he stammered, the name catching in his throat. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "K-Kouko."

The word came out broken, almost like a plea, but it was enough.

Kouko froze. Her entire body stiffened, and her eyes locked onto his, wide with shock. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Her phone slipped from her hand, landing softly on the planter beside her, forgotten.

"You… remembered, even if it was last week" she finally whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the breeze. Her expression wavered between disbelief and something deeper—something raw and unspoken.

''Uhm, I wasn't sure," Ili admitted, his voice low, and almost confused. "It just… came to me."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze searching his face. "It's like fate, isn't it?" she murmured, and the way she said it made his chest ache. There was something wistful, almost melancholic in her tone.

They fell into step together, walking along the cobblestone path that wound through the campus gardens. The air was thick with the scent of fallen leaves and distant laughter from students enjoying their free period. Ili struggled to find words, his thoughts a jumbled mess, until Kouko broke the silence.

"How's being an exchange student here treating you again?" she asked, her question casual yet laced with something he couldn't quite identify.

"Good, I guess," he replied, scratching the back of his neck. "Classes are tough, but I've made some solid friends. And you?"

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. "Busy, as always," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "But I'm managing."

He watched her, noticing how she seemed to be holding something back. It was subtle, but it was there in the way her eyes flickered away, the way her smile wavered. He didn't know her well enough to push, but the urge to understand burned inside him.

Then, without thinking, he asked, "Kouko… do you ever feel like you're missing something?"

She stopped, turning to face him fully. For a heartbeat, her guard slipped, and a raw, vulnerable expression crossed her features. But just as quickly, she composed herself, her smile returning, forced and brittle.

"All the time," she whispered, her voice breaking.

The answer hit him like a punch to the gut, and he didn't know why. Before he could ask her what she meant, she looked away, her gaze distant. "I have to get to class," she said, her tone abruptly formal. "But… let's catch up soon, okay?"

He nodded, even though confusion and unease twisted in his stomach. "Yeah. I'd like that."

As she walked away, Ili stood frozen, his mind racing. He felt like he was trapped in a puzzle, one where the pieces refused to fit together. And at the center of it all was Kouko, a girl he barely knew yet couldn't forget.

On a cold Tuesday morning, the sky was the color of slate, and the wind had a sharp bite to it. Ili walked across the courtyard, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets. The campus fountain, a familiar centerpiece, gurgled quietly, and the bare branches of the trees swayed in the breeze, dropping the occasional dried leaf.

Then he saw her.

Kouko was sitting on the edge of the fountain, her scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. Her hair was a dark cascade against her cream-colored coat, and her eyes were distant, as if she were lost in a world only she could see. Ili's chest tightened, an inexplicable feeling of longing and unease making his heart race. This time, he couldn't ignore it. He had to talk to her.

"Kouko," he said as he approached, his voice breaking on her name. He swallowed, trying to steady himself. "Do you… believe in déjà vu?"

She looked up at him, and for the first time, there was no mask, no polite distance. Her eyes were full of something raw and vulnerable, a sadness so deep it felt like it might drown him. "Ili," she whispered, and the way she said his name made his hands tremble. This time, there was no pretense, no forced smile. "We need to talk."

Ili's breath caught in his throat. "Talk?" he echoed, his voice thin with anxiety. "About what?"

She hesitated, her shoulders tense. Her fingers tightened around the edges of her scarf, as if she needed something to hold onto. "About us. About… everything." Her voice wavered, and she met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with grief and hope. "I've been waiting for you to remember. But even if you don't… I'll still be here."

Her words sent a shiver down his spine. Remember? The confusion and frustration churned inside him. What was he supposed to remember? But before he could voice his questions, a cold wind swept through the courtyard, rustling leaves and carrying whispers he couldn't understand.

"I don't… I don't get it," Ili finally said, his voice cracking. "What do you mean?"

Kouko looked at him, her eyes searching his face for something. "I wish I could explain it," she said softly, "but it's something you have to figure out on your own."

He stood there, frozen, as she turned away, leaving him with more questions than ever. The air around him felt heavy, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

The evening air carried the rich aroma of grilled skewers and spices, mingling with the faint hum of conversation spilling out from Yakiya's open windows. Warm, golden light poured through the doorway, casting a soft glow onto the narrow street. As Ili approached, the sound of laughter reached his ears—Haru's unmistakable boisterous laugh cutting through the others.

He stepped inside, pausing momentarily to take in the scene. The small restaurant was alive with energy, the clinking of glasses and sizzle of food on the grill filling the air. At the corner table near the window, Haru and the rest of the group sat surrounded by empty plates and half-filled bowls, their body language and laughter drawing glances from nearby tables.

Ili spotted Haru first, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, his face split into a wide grin. Beside him, Daiki was gesturing wildly, undoubtedly in the middle of recounting one of his many exaggerated stories. Rina and Mika sat across from them, Mika rolling her eyes in mock exasperation while Rina hid her laugh behind her hand.

And then his eyes fell on her.

Kouko was seated just to Mika's right, her profile partially hidden by the long strands of her hair as she leaned forward slightly to listen to Daiki. She wasn't speaking, but her soft smile said she was engaged. The golden light overhead reflected off her hair, giving it a warm, almost ethereal glow, and Ili found himself unable to look away.

For a moment, he just stood there, frozen in place. His chest tightened as a wave of déjà vu washed over him, so intense it made him lightheaded. Who is she? he thought, his brow furrowing slightly. Why does it feel like I've seen her before?

Her laughter rang out then—soft, light, but tinged with something he couldn't quite place. The sound stirred something deep within him, a fleeting feeling just out of reach. He was so absorbed in the moment that he didn't notice Haru had spotted him.

"Yo, Ili!" Haru's voice boomed across the room, drawing everyone's attention. "Took you long enough, man!"

At the sound of his name, Kouko turned in her seat, her movements slow and deliberate. When her gaze met his, the air between them seemed to shift. Time stretched impossibly long as their eyes locked, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background.

Ili's breath caught in his throat. Her wide eyes reflected surprise, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink as if she hadn't expected to see him. For a moment, she seemed frozen, her lips parting slightly as if to speak but no words came.

Kouko blinked, her composure slipping further as a deep blush spread across her cheeks. She quickly averted her gaze, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in an attempt to compose herself.

Why does it feel like this? The thought clawed at him, desperate and unrelenting. Like she's more than just a stranger? Like I've been waiting my whole life for this one moment? The intensity of the emotions coursing through him was almost unbearable, leaving him with an ache he couldn't explain.

"Hey, don't just stand there like a statue," Haru called, waving him over. "Come on, we've got a spot for you!"

Shaken out of his daze, Ili managed a faint smile and started toward the table. As he drew closer, he could feel Kouko's eyes flicking back to him, though she quickly looked away whenever he caught her. The subtle glances and her rosy cheeks did nothing to calm his racing heart.

As Ili walked toward the table, Haru leaned back in his chair, grinning wide. "About time, man! We thought you got lost."

"Yeah," Daiki chimed in, pointing a skewer at Ili. "You better have a good excuse for being late. We're not saving you any of these spicy skewers if you don't."

Ili chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry, sorry. Got caught up with something."

"Classic Ili," Mika teased, rolling her eyes. "Always 'caught up' in something."

Then Kouko's voice cut through the chatter, soft but playful. "Hello, stranger. Decided to finally show up?"

Ili froze for half a second, his gaze snapping to her. She was smiling faintly, though the blush on her cheeks hadn't faded. Her tone was light, teasing, but there was something about the way her eyes held his that made his heart stutter.

He laughed, though it came out more awkwardly than he intended. "Y-Yeah… figured I should make an appearance, you know."

"Wow," Kouko said, tilting her head slightly, her voice carrying a mock-serious tone. "The elusive Ili, gracing us with his presence. Truly an honor."

"I-I'm not that bad," he stammered, the heat rising to his face as he waved her comment off. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Barely," she quipped, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

Haru leaned over, smacking Ili on the shoulder. "Man, she's got you good. You're not gonna let her win that easily, are you?"

Ili glanced back at Kouko, who was still looking at him with that teasing smile. "I… uh…" His words faltered under her gaze, and he ended up laughing again, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I deserved that one."

"Hmm, you're lucky I'm feeling generous," Kouko said, her smirk softening into a genuine smile. "Take a seat already before Haru starts eating your food."

"I'm not that bad!" Haru protested, raising his hands.

"Debatable," Mika muttered.

As the group laughed, Ili slid into his seat, his pulse still racing. He couldn't quite tell if Kouko's teasing had been purely playful or if there had been something else behind it. Either way, he couldn't stop the small, nervous smile that lingered on his face.

Ili forced a laugh, but his mind was spinning. Kouko had gone quiet, her gaze fixed on her plate, though the faint blush on her cheeks hadn't faded. He couldn't stop glancing at her, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of emotions and questions he couldn't articulate.

Kouko tilted her head slightly, her expression softening. "You know, it's strange seeing everyone together again like this. Feels like… I don't know, like we've gone back in time or something."

Ili nodded, his gaze dropping briefly to his plate. "Yeah, it does. It's nice, though. Familiar."

"Familiar," Kouko echoed, her voice quieter now. Her fingers traced the edge of her glass in slow, absent circles. "Do you ever think about… back then?"

Ili frowned slightly, a faint crease forming between his brows. "Back then?"

She let out a small laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. "You know, the simpler days. Before life got so… complicated."

Ili tilted his head, thinking for a moment. Her words stirred something faint but warm in his chest, like the feeling of sunlight through a window. But as much as he wanted to grasp it, the memory wouldn't fully surface. "I guess I haven't really thought about it much," he admitted. "Everything feels like such a blur sometimes."

Kouko's smile faltered, just for a moment, before she quickly recovered. Her tone turned playful, though her eyes still carried that softness. "That's because you were always in your own little world, Ili. Half the time, I wasn't even sure if you were paying attention."

Ili chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "I was paying attention," he said, leaning back slightly. "Most of the time, anyway."

"Oh, really?" Kouko arched an eyebrow, her teasing smirk returning. "Then tell me—what was the name of that café we used to go to after school?"

Ili opened his mouth, then stopped, his mind coming up blank. A faint twinge of frustration gripped his chest as he tried to reach for the memory, but it danced just out of reach. "I… I don't remember," he admitted, his voice quieter now. He glanced at her, as though searching her expression for an answer.

Kouko's smirk softened into something gentler, her gaze steady and kind. "It's okay," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "It was a long time ago."

The noise of the restaurant filled the brief lull between them. Ili stole a glance at her, catching her looking down at her plate with a faint, wistful smile. The way the golden light reflected off her hair, the curve of her lips—it all felt familiar, achingly so, yet just out of reach.

Kouko broke the silence, her voice a little brighter now. "So, what about you? Any favorite spots these days? Or are you still too busy with… whatever it is you do?"

Ili laughed softly, the sound more genuine this time. "Not really. Most of my time goes to work or keeping up with everything. I haven't exactly been exploring much."

"Figures," Kouko teased, her grin tugging at her lips. "Some things never change."

"And you?" Ili asked, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. "Still taking on the world, one project at a time?"

Kouko laughed—a real laugh, unguarded and warm. "Maybe not the whole world," she said, her eyes sparkling with something like nostalgia. "Just… pieces of it."

For a moment, their eyes met across the table. The chatter and laughter of their friends blurred into the background, the world shrinking down to just the two of them. There was a natural rhythm to their conversation, like slipping into a familiar melody they hadn't played in years.

Kouko's smile lingered, soft and genuine, her blush faint but present. "You're still the same, Ili," she said, her voice quieter now, almost as if speaking to herself. "And… that's nice."

Ili's chest tightened, warmth spreading through him as he tried to hold onto the moment. "You're the same too," he murmured. "But… maybe a little braver."

The soft glow of her smile brightened, and the connection between them felt unmistakable, like a thread being drawn tighter. Whatever distance had been between them before seemed to shrink with each passing second. And in that moment, neither of them felt the need to say anything more.

After dinner, the group decided to walk through the city center, the streets illuminated by colorful neon signs and strings of fairy lights. A street performer played a soft, melancholic tune on a violin, the music weaving through the laughter of passing tourists. The city felt alive, vibrant, yet something about it made Ili's chest feel heavy, like he was trying to remember a dream that was slipping away.

They strolled through the park, the late afternoon sunlight filtering through the canopy of trees above. The air was rich with the scent of summer blooms, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves, carrying with it a soft melody of distant birdsong. Ili's pace slowed as his gaze caught on a cluster of wisteria vines draping elegantly over a wooden pergola, their purple blossoms swaying lazily in the wind.

He stopped in his tracks, a strange weight settling in his chest. The sight of the flowers stirred something deep within him—a flicker of familiarity, faint but insistent. His hand instinctively reached for the support of a nearby bench, the sensation of déjà vu hitting him so strongly it made him unsteady.

Kouko noticed his pause and slowed as well, turning to follow his gaze. She stepped closer, her expression softening as her eyes settled on the wisteria. "Wisteria," she murmured, her voice barely louder than the rustling leaves. "They used to be our favorite."

Ili turned to her, his brows furrowing. "Used to be?" he echoed, the words strange on his tongue. "When? I don't… I don't remember ever mentioning that."

Her lips curved into a gentle smile, but there was a sadness in her eyes that he couldn't ignore. "It's okay," she said softly, her tone soothing yet heavy with unspoken meaning. "Some things are hard to remember."

Her words sent a shiver down his spine, and his confusion deepened. He opened his mouth to question her further, but something caught his attention—a faint glint of light against her chest. His gaze shifted downward, and there it was: a delicate wisteria pendant resting just above her collarbone.

The intricate carving was strikingly similar to the one in his pocket. His hand reflexively touched the pendant hidden in his jacket, his fingers brushing its smooth edges. His heart pounded as the connection sparked in his mind, but no explanation came, only questions.

"Kouko," he began, his voice uncertain, "why…?"

She glanced at him, her expression unreadable as her fingers lightly brushed the pendant. "It's just a coincidence," she said quickly, her tone too even to be convincing. She turned away before he could say more, her steps deliberate as she continued walking.

But Ili didn't move. His hand stayed over his pocket, his thoughts racing. A coincidence? No. It's more than that. It has to be. He glanced back at the wisteria blossoms swaying in the breeze, the sense of déjà vu tightening its grip on him. It wasn't just the flowers, or the pendant, or her words—it was everything. And yet, the answers remained just out of reach.

Daiki called out to them, and the moment slipped away. He hesitated, then followed, but the unease lingered. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something vital, something that tied them together in a way he couldn't yet understand.

The evening eventually wound down, and the group split up to head home. Ili found himself walking alongside Kouko, the streets quieter now, their breath misting in the cold night air. The city felt different, almost ethereal, as if wrapped in a fog of secrets and memories just out of reach.

Kouko hugged her scarf tighter, her footsteps light but purposeful. After a while, she turned to Ili, a small smile breaking through the sorrow that lingered in her eyes. "It's nice, isn't it?" she said, her voice warm. "Being here again. It feels like… fate."

"Fate?" Ili repeated, his brow furrowing. "You keep saying things like that, and I don't understand. What do you mean?"

She stopped walking, turning to face him. Her eyes searched his, and for a moment, Ili thought he saw tears glistening there. "I've missed you," she confessed, her voice breaking. "So much. Being here, with you, after everything… it feels like a second chance."

Ili's heart ached, even if he didn't fully understand why. "I wish I could remember what you mean," he said quietly. "I feel like I should… but I can't."

Kouko's smile trembled, and she reached out, her fingers brushing against his hand. "It's okay, it has been years, since the last time" she whispered. "You don't have to force it. Just… being here is enough for me."

Before he could react, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. Ili stiffened at first, but then he relaxed, the warmth of her body grounding him in a way that felt so right, so familiar. He closed his eyes, his confusion mixing with an overwhelming sense of comfort.

When they finally pulled apart, Kouko's eyes were wet, but she was smiling. "Thank you, Ili," she said, her voice full of raw, unfiltered emotion. "For being here."

Ili watched her walk away, disappearing into the night, and he stood there, the cold air biting at his skin. The sense of déjà vu was suffocating, and the wisteria charm in his pocket felt like a lead weight. Whatever he had forgotten, it was important. Deeply, profoundly important. And he was running out of time to remember it.

The wind whispered through the empty streets, carrying the scent of wisteria, and Ili knew that the past he couldn't recall was closer than ever.

A Quiet Night

The room was quiet, the pale glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains, painting soft patterns on the walls. Ili stirred, his chest heaving as he jolted upright in bed. His face was damp with sweat, his hands gripping the blanket tightly.

A tear rolled down his cheek, startling him as he brushed it away. He stared at his trembling hand, confused.

"What… what was that?" he murmured, his voice hoarse.

The dream was already slipping away, fading like smoke in the wind. He tried to hold onto it, but all that remained was the ghost of an emotion—a deep ache of longing, a fragile sense of loss. His heart clenched as if mourning something he couldn't name.

He ran a hand through his hair and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Get it together, Ili," he muttered, though his voice betrayed the unease that lingered.

The silence in the room was too loud. He grabbed his wisteria charm from the bedside table, its familiar weight grounding him as he made his way downstairs for a drink.

The kitchen was cool and dark, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound. Ili moved on autopilot, pouring himself a glass of water. He leaned against the counter, taking slow sips, but the heaviness in his chest refused to lift.

He stared out the small kitchen window, the city's lights twinkling faintly in the distance. The dream's emotions still clung to him—so vivid, yet so frustratingly out of reach.

"What was it about?" he murmured to no one in particular. "Why does it feel so… real?"

His eyes drifted to the charm in his hand, the smooth wood catching the faint glow of the moonlight. It felt warm against his palm, though he wasn't sure if that was his imagination. He turned it over absently, the familiar curves of the carving offering a strange sort of comfort.

The faintest sound broke his thoughts—a soft creak, like a whisper of movement from the corner of the room. Ili froze, his heart skipping a beat.

"...Hello?" His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as if he didn't want an answer.

The silence pressed in, heavier than before. For a moment, he thought he caught the faint scent of wisteria in the air—sweet and fleeting. It was gone just as quickly, leaving him wondering if he'd imagined it.

He shook his head, setting the glass down on the counter. "I really need to sleep," he muttered, his voice strained with forced calm.

As Ili turned to head back upstairs, he paused, his gaze falling to the wisteria charm in his hand. He hadn't realized he'd been holding it the entire time. It felt warm against his palm, heavier than it should, like it carried a gravity of its own. He frowned, turning it over slowly, his thumb tracing the smooth edges of the carved petals.

"Why… why is this in my hands?" he murmured, his voice barely audible in the stillness.

He tried to piece it together, but his mind came up blank. He didn't remember grabbing it before coming downstairs, didn't remember even thinking about it as he'd stumbled out of bed. And yet, here it was, like it had found its way to him on its own.

The faint moonlight reflected off the surface, casting soft shadows on the countertop. For a brief second, the charm seemed almost alive, its delicate curves and grooves pulsing with a quiet energy he couldn't name. Ili shook his head, gripping it tighter as if afraid it might slip away.

His chest ached, an inexplicable tightness pressing against his ribs. "Why does it feel like this… means something?" he muttered, frustration lacing his words. He glanced down again, the weight of the charm now almost unbearable, as though it was trying to tell him something he couldn't understand.

He let out a breath, his fingers closing around it. "What are you?" he whispered, his voice laced with both confusion and desperation.

The charm gave no answer, but its silent presence spoke volumes. Ili couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't just a trinket—that it was a piece of something larger, something just out of reach. A fragment of a story he couldn't remember, and yet, somehow, couldn't let go.