Shōya had been wandering around the unfamiliar halls of Shōko's high-school, his eyes scanning the faces of people walking by, hoping to spot someone—someone he hadn’t seen in years. His heart beat in uneven thumps. It had been so long since he’d seen Shōko, but he couldn’t forget her, no matter how hard he tried. The guilt and regret still hung around him like an unshakable cloud.

He hadn’t planned on bumping into anyone else, especially not this way. As he turned a corner, his gaze flicked up from the floor just in time to crash into a girl walking briskly in the opposite direction. His hand instinctively shot out to steady her, but it was too late. The two of them collided, stumbling before falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

“Ugh, sorry!” Shōya mumbled, pulling himself to his knees. He reached for her hand, still feeling awkward despite the years that had passed. When their hands met, he froze for a second—eyes locking onto hers. His breath hitched.

There was something... off. No cross on her face. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe, the sight of her... of this random girl... unnervingly familiar. He glanced around, disoriented, trying to shake the feeling of déjà vu.

“I—uh—where’s Shōko?” The words blurted out before he could think better of it. He hated himself for asking, for not knowing how to apologize, how to say something more meaningful than that. But his mind couldn’t focus on anything else. She was supposed to be here, somewhere—nearby.

Shōya’s face flushed, but it wasn’t from the fall. He realized, too late, that he had probably startled her with the question. His heart raced for all the wrong reasons. “Sorry, that was... stupid. I—uh, I was looking for her. Shōko Nishimiya. Do you know where she is?”