Airi never liked crowded places.
Voices overlapped. Laughter felt too loud. Even sunlight in the school courtyard seemed sharp.
So she spent her lunches where no one else went — the old sakura hill behind the school.
The tree there was ancient. Its branches twisted like time itself, petals drifting even when the wind slept.
Airi sat beneath it, sketchbook in her lap.
Today she drew petals.
Always petals.
Because petals fell quietly… the way she wished she could exist.
A breeze passed.
Petals rustled.
And she heard it.
"…finally."
Airi froze.
The voice wasn't outside.
It was inside the sound of falling petals.
She looked up.
Nothing.
Only drifting pink light.
Her heart beat faster.
"…you came back."
The whisper came again — closer this time.
Airi stood.
"Who's there?"
Silence.
Then the petals around her lifted — swirling like a slow spiral.
And in their center…
someone stood.
A boy.
Silver hair. Pale skin. Uniform unlike any she had seen — older, darker, stitched with unfamiliar lines.
He looked at her as if she were sunrise.
"…Airi."
Her name fell from his lips like something sacred.
She stepped back.
"H-how do you know me?"
The boy's expression trembled.
Relief.
Wonder.
Fear.
"All this time…" he whispered. "You finally came back."
Airi's pulse pounded.
"I've never seen you before."
The boy smiled softly.
"You have."
Petals drifted between them.
"I've been waiting," he said.
"For a very long time."