Chapter 7

Taki winced as he gradually sat up on the bed, massaging his temples. The yesteray's fever had at last gone away, but an after-exhaustion hung in his body. The morning sun streaming in from his window was gentler than normal, like the world itself was encouraging him to slow down.

Stretching his arms out, he looked around his room, his eyes fixating on his desk. His notebooks were heaped pell-mell, some papers spread out here and there. But a small, metallic thing drew his attention. Scowling, he stretched his hand for it.

It was a small locket—ancient, scratched to a thin sheen in places, yet somehow familiar to him in a way that eluded him. He weighed it in his hand, puzzled. Why did he possess this? More to the point, why did simply looking at it cause his chest to tighten with a strange, crippling pain?

For a moment, an image flickered in his mind—a vague memory of a playground, laughter in the wind, and a voice, soft yet full of certainty.

"I'll be back, Tak-kun."

The voice rang clear, yet it slipped away before he could grasp it fully. Tak-kun? No one had called him that before… right?

He sat there, gazing at the locket, annoyance seething below the surface. Was this some mere childhood memento? Or was there more to it?

The day dragged on in a blur. Taki was unable to concentrate in class. His head continued to turn back to the locket, the voice, and the peculiar feeling of recognition that it held. Even while Haru and Tatsuki bantered back and forth over lunch, he found himself spacing out, his fingers tracing the shape of the little object in his pocket without him being aware.

"Taki, you good?" Haru asked, thumping him with his elbow.

"Huh? Yeah… just tired," Taki grumbled.

Tatsuki snickered. "Don't tell me you're still wondering about Yuki taking care of you yesterday?"

Taki almost choked on his beverage. "Wh—No! What are you even talking about?!"

Haru and Tatsuki shared knowing glances, their laughter ringing through the cafeteria. Taki sighed, figuring it was better to let them think whatever they thought.

But his thoughts weren't on Yuki herself—on the persistent sense that she was tied into something significant. Something he'd forgotten.

Later in the day, on his way home, he stopped at a small convenience store to pick up some snacks. The sky was already a dull orange, the cold evening breeze ruffling his face. As he emerged from the store, he saw Yuki walking in front of him, her strides relaxed.

He quickened his pace to reach her. "Oi, Yuki."

She turned around and smiled. "Oh? You're alive, I see."

"Barely," he grumbled. He paused for a moment before asking, "What were you like when you were a kid?"

Yuki blinked, obviously not anticipating the question. She cocked her head, a teasing smile twisting her lips. "Why? Did you finally remember something?"

Taki stiffened. "Huh? No. Just… curious."

She hummed in contemplation. "Well, I guess I was a little naughty. Maybe even a little annoying."

Taki raised an eyebrow. "That sounds about right."

Yuki smiled wryly but then hesitated, her smile wavering for just a moment—so brief that if Taki hadn't been paying attention, he would have missed it.

Then, she leaned forward slightly, speaking in barely more than a whisper. "Memories are weird, aren't they? Sometimes, they sneak right up on you."

Taki shivered. There was something in her words… something beyond mere banter. But before he could push further, Yuki took a step ahead, turning to wave at him with a cheeky smile. "See you tomorrow, Tak-kun."

His breath caught.

She spoke it. That name.

His chest constricted, his fingers tightening around the locket in his pocket.

Did she know?

The wind picked up, carrying Yuki's soft laughter into the distance. Taki stood there, frozen, as fragmented memories stirred restlessly in his mind. Unfinished. Unresolved. Unspoken.

Something was missing.

Something big.

And for the first time, Taki realized—he needed to remember.

That night, as Taki lay in bed, he stared at the locket, his mind racing.

Then—knock, knock.

A soft knock at his door.

His heart raced. Cautiously, he sat up, looking toward the door, reluctance creeping over him. The voice from his memory spoke to him once more:

"I'll be back, Tak-kun."

And then, as if the universe itself were responding to him, a whisper sounded from beyond the door.

"Do you really not remember anything?"