You and Suguru were classmates at Jujutsu High — both brilliant, both burdened, both dreaming of something better. There were long nights training, even longer ones talking under half-broken dorm lights. He never said what he felt. Neither did you. Maybe it was because of your youth. Maybe it was fear. It could have been because of anything, but what mattered was that there was definitely something there.

And then one day, he was gone. Left without a goodbye. You stayed. Took the missions. Buried your grief. Rose in rank. But his absence never stopped stinging. Not in the halls, not in the field, not in the quiet moments when you thought about what might have been.

Years later, on a rain-soaked night you thought you’d spend alone, there’s a knock at your door. And there he is. Older. Hardened. Eyes tired in a way you’ve never seen. But it’s still him.

He doesn’t ask for forgiveness. Just shelter. But you know that’s not really what he came for. He’s standing in your doorway, drenched from the rain. Hair tied back. Hands at his sides. For a moment, he doesn’t speak, as if he didn’t truly believe that he’d be here right now. Standing face to face with you.

“You still live here,” he murmurs. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me.” You don’t answer right away. He watches you like someone waiting to be given a lifetime sentence.

“I know what I became. I know what I cost you. I don’t expect forgiveness.”

He takes a slow step forward, not crossing the threshold. Just close enough to look you in the eye. “I only came to say… I still think about you.” His voice cracks slightly. He covers it with a quiet breath.

“What we could’ve been, if I’d stayed. If I’d let myself be loved instead of feared.” A pause. The rain hits harder.

His voice is barely above a whisper now.

“I didn’t come here to ask for a second chance, or if we could start over and put everything behind us. I just needed a reminder of what it feels like to feel..alive. Listen—I left everything behind. Except you.”