New Identity

 The boundary between "love" and "friendship" is like a fragile bridge.

 Only when both sides are strong enough, with trust anchoring them, can they walk across that bridge together—unafraid of falling or stumbling.

 Otherwise, they risk losing each other forever, tumbling into the dark, bottomless pit below.

 Fortunately, that day, Hiroki and Yuna didn't take that extra step. They remained on opposite ends of the bridge, quietly facing one another.

 Life moved on, and soon, Hiroki held his high school diploma in hand. Years of relentless dedication to academics had finally borne fruit. As he left the school he had grown with for three years, he found his emotions surprisingly steady. Teachers and friends who once played central roles in his life now existed only in memory. One day, he'd have to continue walking this endless road, leaving some things behind—but always looking ahead.

 At least, that's what he believed.

 Letting go of the past proved far more difficult when the promise he made to Yuna still lingered in his mind: "I'll come to you, no matter what." He played those words on repeat, feeling the weight of that vow grow heavier with time.

 Where would she go from here? Would she still remember the promise they made? That promise he made to her, and only her.

 Hiroki still had her number saved. They kept in touch regularly, mostly exchanging updates about school and life. Yuna talked about Osaka University—a prestigious school bustling with gifted students from across the country. The coursework was intense, packed with lectures and practicals, often leaving her struggling to keep pace.

Hiroki, meanwhile, rarely talked about his own studies. His university didn't demand much. He found a good balance between learning and living.

 Despite the heavy load of research and assignments, Yuna still found time every week to wait for him outside the gates of Osaka University. Hiroki would pick her up on his old motorbike—a hand-me-down from his father that made commuting easier. He didn't mind the 20-kilometer ride. He took her everywhere.

 They'd grab quick bites at fast food joints, study at the Nakanoshima library, or stroll through the neon buzz of Dotonbori at night. Yuna seemed to love that bike, rickety as it was. Zooming down Shin-Midosuji or crossing the Naniwa Bridge, she would stretch out her arms and laugh into the wind, sometimes clinging to Hiroki's back in silence when the breeze turned chilly.

 Those moments—her warmth pressed against his back—felt both near and impossibly distant. Close enough to touch, yet never truly his. Still, he cherished those fleeting, weightless seconds.

 At the end of the night, he'd drop her off at her dorm and head back to his own rundown flat. Lying on his creaky bed, he scrolled through the contacts on his secondhand phone. Yuna's name sat pinned at the top. Then came his dad, and his former homeroom teacher—Ms. Sakamoto. A few more names, and that was it.

 He paused at a number, finger hovering over the call button.

After all this time, would she even pick up?

 A beep. The call went through.

 "You've reached Jun..."

 The ringtone was one he'd set a long time ago. A girl's voice gently sang "Tsubasa wo Kudasai"—Give Me Wings. Its bittersweet melody echoed in Hiroki's heart, fingers trembling as he held the phone.

 "...The recipient is currently unavailable. Please try again later."

....

 "You want to work at the bookstore again this summer?" his father asked, cigarette dangling from his lips, polishing his shoes on the porch.

 He stood, wiping his hands on the back of his pants. "Mr. Takumi had a stroke last week."

 Hiroki's heart dropped. He bolted toward the familiar bookstore—the Antique Library.

 The news struck like a blow. Just months ago, Mr. Takumi was smiling kindly at him. Now... gone? Why hadn't anyone told him? Why did he find out so late?

 Panting, he stopped outside the store. The "Open" sign still hung on the door, though the inside was dark and silent. He didn't dare touch the door—what if it was locked? He stood frozen, trying to steady his breath.

 It had been half a year since his last visit. Could a place change so much in that time?

 Mr. Takumi—kind, gentle, and patient—had offered Hiroki his first job. He had been more than a mentor; he taught Hiroki how to play the electric guitar.

Now Hiroki was one of the last to know he had passed.

 Jun had left town. And now, knowing Mr. Takumi had died alone left a heavy ache in Hiroki's chest.

 The door creaked open. Hiroki straightened.

 A small-framed girl poked her head out, flipping the "Open" sign to "Closed" before stepping outside. Their eyes met.

 It couldn't be...

 Her chestnut hair fell in soft waves, and her round, pouting face looked exactly the same. It was Jun.

 "Hello," she greeted with a friendly wave.

 Hiroki blinked, slowly waving back, realizing how goofy his grin must look.

 "It's been a while. You came here..."

 His smile faded.

 Right. Mr. Takumi's passing. That must be why she returned.

 Trying not to bring up painful memories, Hiroki shifted the conversation. He noticed the enormous black cases beside her, too heavy for one person to carry.

 "Uh... what's all that?"

 Jun glanced down, then dragged one down the steps. She locked the back door behind her.

 "All of Mr. Takumi's instruments. It's hard to explain, but... he left them to me in his will. So I'm taking them now."

 The black fabric cases came in all shapes and sizes: guitars, ukuleles, flutes, even a shamisen.

 "I heard the news. I'm really sorry," Hiroki muttered, scratching his neck awkwardly. "Is anyone with you today?"

 "My parents. They're waiting outside the alley. I have to head out now."

 She hauled her mountain of gear along. Watching her wobble with the load, Hiroki chuckled and rushed to help.

 They walked down the narrow alley together. Hiroki stole a glance at her. She hadn't changed much—maybe a little taller, her hair now tied back in a ponytail. Her figure had lengthened, more graceful now.

 Not long ago, Hiroki had stumbled upon her Soundcloud on his old Mac at home—a platform for indie artists in Japan. Under the name Akari, she had uploaded numerous tracks since last year. Her songs were charming and full of potential, often revolving around themes of love, girlhood, and gaming. Some quirky tracks inspired by the Dragon Quest series had even gained a decent following.

 "Still making music?" Hiroki asked as he carried her gear.

 "W-wait—you listened to my Soundcloud?!"

 Yes. But what Hiroki loved most were her quieter songs—ones filled with unspoken thoughts, loneliness, and fragile hopes, wrapped in cheerful melodies. They weren't crowd-pleasers, but he had been a devoted listener.

 With a hint of admiration, Hiroki said, "You're getting pretty popular there. Your artist name's Akari, right? But... isn't your real name Jun?"

 "Akari... is my actual name," she pouted, trying to hide her embarrassment. "Jun's the name I plan to use once I'm famous."

 "Then why didn't you just tell me that before?"

 "Because it's a secret! I like being called Jun."

 They reached the rural road where a pristine white car waited.

 Once the gear was loaded up, Jun waved him goodbye.

 Right before she left, they exchanged phone numbers.

 Hiroki stood watching the white car fade into the distance down the dusty road.

 He typed her name into his phone.

 And saved her contact as Jun.

 A few weeks had passed since Hiroki's return, but the quaint bookstore of Mr. Takumi had completely transformed.

 In no time, the old "Antique Library" was razed and rebuilt into a brand-new book café. You'd never guess this was once run by an elderly man selling secondhand books. Now, the entrance was paved with vintage bricks, flanked by potted greenery and clusters of white chrysanthemums and fragrant lavender.

 Inside, pastel shades of mint and soft pink set the tone. Floor-to-ceiling wooden shelves divided the space into cozy reading nooks. Cone-shaped pendant lights, shaped like clouds, hung above. Hanging plants and trailing vines added a gentle, natural touch.

 Hiroki tapped his fingers on the tabletop and glanced around in mild anticipation. 

 The café, though only recently opened, was bustling—everyone seemed captivated by its aesthetic charm. Some lounged on plush rugs, leaning against colorful pillows while diving into books.

 His friend was late. Did she always run this behind schedule? Still, he waited patiently. One of the staff—a young woman, perhaps still in high school—noticed him lingering and came over, pointing at the menu.

 Hiroki picked it up and promptly ordered a black coffee. Lately, he had been staying up late, feeling perpetually fatigued. His writing sessions had cost him many sleepless nights. The barista headed to the counter to prepare the drink.

 Actually, the café was quite interesting. The staffer—possibly a student—reminded Hiroki of his own part-time job years ago at Mr. Takumi's place. She had short, snowy curls and delicate violet eyes.

 Just then, Jun appeared.

 She entered the café like a star, wearing a short, flowing black dress and a stylish leopard-print fur coat. Heads turned as she approached the counter and chatted animatedly with the barista (named Mei, he later learned). Jun towered over Mei in high heels, and moments later, she headed to his table.

 "Sorry to keep you waiting," Jun smiled, setting her bag down and flicking her hair off her shoulders.

 Hiroki was speechless—he felt plain next to her upscale elegance. That little chestnut-haired girl he'd once known had blossomed into a stunning beauty.

 "Uh, it's fine," he stammered, unable to meet her gaze. "I was the one who invited you, after all."

 Jun nodded thoughtfully. "I've got some tracks I wanted you to hear. Hang on."

 While Hiroki rummaged through his backpack, the barista returned with his coffee, a matcha-avocado smoothie topped with cream, and a plate of Choco Monaka. Jun whispered something to Mei, who smiled. She then set a vintage Fujitsu FMV laptop on the table and turned to him.

 Before he realized it, Jun had devoured half a Monaka in a single bite. She polished off the rest, then daintily wiped her mouth with a napkin.

 "Gosh, the food here is so good," she said, breathy but cheerful. "Anyway—try your coffee."

 Hiroki sipped. It was robust, fragrant, and perfectly balanced with a lingering bitterness.

 "Sorry I'm late—had a photo shoot earlier," Jun explained, leaning on her hand with a wry grin. "My part-time modeling schedule is crazy. I came straight here, starving."

 Ah, so she was a model and an indie musician on Soundcloud. Hiroki's heart fluttered—now he was face-to-face with a real artist. Despite her polished exterior, Jun was approachable, and he knew he couldn't let this moment slip away.

 He plugged his USB into the laptop—his heart pounding—as she donned earphones and hit play.

 Hiroki occasionally sipped his coffee to mask any emotional reactions, as he watched her nod along to his melodies. After a while, she removed the earphones, her eyebrows rising in satisfaction.

 "I really like your music," she said, and Hiroki almost jumped out of his seat.

 "But—and this is typical for emerging songwriters—you need more skill in arrangement. Your lyrics and melodies are fantastic, full of emotional richness, and your electric guitar playing is impressive!"

 "R-really?" Hiroki flushed, bursting with pride. "I've been playing three years."

 He had poured his soul into those tracks, hoping they would reach her. Now, his hard work felt validated. Could they create something together? A collaboration born of passion.

 "A collaboration?" Jun paused, smirking. "Well... not just the two of us."

 She added, "Let's start a band—with others."

 Walking through the narrow, dim alley that felt miles away from the city's bustling streets, Jun led Hiroki to a two-story house she had rented exclusively for creative work.

 She unlocked the door, revealing a space that was nothing short of artistic chaos and inspiration rolled into one. The living room resembled a semi-professional studio, lined with low wooden shelves stacked with vinyl records, cassette tapes, music scores, and small figurines of famous band members. Purple-red LED lights twisted along the ceiling beams, casting an ambient glow onto the walls adorned with abstract paintings. Bold brushstrokes and clashing colors created a sense of beautiful disorder.

 "This is our studio," Jun said with a smirk. "Take a look around."

 Adrenaline kicked in as Hiroki's eyes widened. In the center of the room sat a sleek, black leather sofa facing a glass coffee table littered with soda cans and empty snack boxes.

 "Those are Mallow and Raven," she added, squinting in a mock-stern tone.

 On the couch, Mallow and Raven were glued to a high-energy action game blaring from the TV. The sound of frantic button-mashing mixed with upbeat music filled the room. Mallow, with light pink hippie-style curls, hammered on the controller like his life depended on it. Raven, a goth girl with heavy eyeliner and a sharp look, leaned back coolly, one hand on her controller and the other clutching a drink, occasionally smirking when Mallow slipped up.

 When Raven lost, she threw her controller onto the couch with a groan and ruffled Mallow's already poofy hair, making it puff up like a marshmallow. Mallow looked up, finally noticing Jun—and Hiroki beside her.

 "Good evening, Jun! Who's this guy?" he asked.

 "Why don't you take a guess?" Jun crossed her arms, smiling slyly.

 Mallow sprang up and skipped over to Hiroki, inspecting him head to toe with such enthusiasm that Hiroki instinctively stepped back a little.

 "Who is this?" Raven was already beside him, equally curious. Their eyes landed on the guitar case slung over Hiroki's back. Awkwardly, he unstrapped it and pulled out his electric guitar.

 "I-I'm Hiroki," he stammered, gripping the neck of his guitar tightly. "Second-year uni student. I play electric guitar."

 Raven leaned on Mallow's shoulder, flashing a smirk. Her voice was soft, like velvet. "Ooh~ Looks like I'm still the youngest one here. I'm Raven, and this idiot's Mallow. Guess we finally found ourselves a guitarist, huh? You guys should properly introduce yourselves."

 Mallow raised his hand high, eager to go first.

 "Me first! I'm Mallow—used to be a street performer. I play bass. I've got a girlfriend—cutest girl ever—but I'll still give music everything I've got!"

 "I'm Raven," she added, twirling the silver raven pendant hanging from her neck. Her heavily lined eyes had a mysterious charm. "I'm a conservatory student. I play keyboard. Also… I kinda like guys with mysterious vibes… like you."

 Hiroki swallowed hard, eyes darting away. Was she talking about his quiet demeanor?

 "Don't listen to her! She's a crazy, drunk little gremlin!" Mallow crossed his arms in mock-defiance. "Way too gullible to be–"

 Before he could finish, Raven lunged and clamped a hand over his mouth, dragging the poor boy away from Hiroki's sight. Hiroki glanced nervously at Jun.

 She chuckled. "Don't worry. You'll get used to them. They're a friendly bunch."

 She pointed toward a black door in the far corner, boldly painted with the words "Dream Lab – Do Not Disturb" in white, handwritten letters. Through the narrow glass pane, Hiroki could make out the blurred figure of someone pounding away on a drum set with fierce intensity.

 "That's our drummer, Starlin. A beast on the drums. Always practicing. Doesn't talk much—actually, even quieter than you. It's like he saves all his words for the rhythm."

 After that whirlwind of introductions, Hiroki felt slightly overwhelmed. Could he really keep up with these...eccentric people? Everyone seemed so unique, almost otherworldly. How would he fit in with this band?

 "So... is that everyone?" he asked tentatively.

 "For now," Jun replied. "If we count you, there are five of us: Starlin, me, Mallow, Raven, and you. Just so you know, if you're serious about joining our band, you'll need to come here every week, bring your songs and recordings, and share your ideas. Let's make this work together."

 She extended a closed fist toward him. Hiroki let out a small laugh. A new beginning, new people, new sound. He bumped his knuckles against hers.

 "I'm in."