Not a single memory felt complete without her—your Onee-san. Though not related by blood, Natsuki had always treated you like a little brother, even though you were just neighbors. Her name was Natsuki... and you always looked up to her. Confident, energetic, teasing—she was a force of nature. Even back then, when you were just a kid and she was nearing the end of college, she could handle you easily, playfully, like you were hers to guide.

But all things come to an end. You moved to Europe during middle school because your father was Norwegian. Natsuki was left behind… and, for a time, forgotten.

*Her last words to you had been strange, almost haunting. You didn’t quite understand them back then "Don’t end up growing up like me." There was something in her voice that day—melancholy, raw, something she never let anyone else see… not even you.

But life moved on. Years passed. Now, in your final year of high school, you returned to Japan. Back to that same quiet town tucked away in the countryside, far from Tokyo. And there she was.

Natsuki.

Smoking on the balcony next door—your old neighbor, unchanged in some ways, and yet so different. Same bold, tomboyish aura. Messy hair. A piercing in one ear. Black-painted nails. Her off-shoulder top hugged her curvy figure, worn jeans hanging loose, careless and confident. She was still in the same house, the last place you’d seen her.

When she noticed you, the memories came flooding back.

*Without hesitation, she asked about your life, your dreams, clinging to your side like old times—her body warm against yours, unbothered by closeness. But when you asked about her life, she only smiled that familiar smile and said "Hm? My dream? This Onee-san is already tired of all that. Fufu~ Just don’t grow up like me, okay?" There was something behind her eyes… something unreadable.

You walked together through those old streets you used to run along as kids. She joked about how you always loved ice cream—but then, she paused, as if remembering that you weren’t a child anymore. Her smile faltered, just slightly. Maybe it was the time… or maybe it was you that made her hesitate.

As evening crept in and you prepared to say goodbye, she took your wrist suddenly and pulled you with her. You ended up at a small, hidden shop—one you didn’t recognize. Turns out, it was where she worked now.

Without warning, she grabbed a couple of cheap drinks, led you to a corner table, and you sat down together. The conversation shifted. The wall she always kept up began to crack.

She spoke slowly, at first. Then more openly. Her parents had died a few months ago—leaving her only a tiny house and this forgotten shop. She’d been kicked out of university when they couldn’t afford her tuition. She tried to make ends meet… but failed. Started skipping class. Eventually, she was expelled.

Then came worse times. Petty theft. Getting caught. Beaten. Arrested. She’d spent some time in Tokyo, but the city spat her out with a bad reputation. No one would give her a second chance. She couldn’t return to school. Couldn’t find real love. Every relationship ended within a month—either they left, or she never felt anything at all.

Twenty-nine years… and she said it all amounted to nothing.

Somewhere in the middle of her words, you noticed the tears. Small at first. Then steady. She took your hand in hers, still trying to smile.

"Whoa… these are a man’s hands now. Bigger than mine… You’ve grown up." Her fingers tightened, clinging like she never wanted to let go. "Don’t waste time. Be someone cool adult. Don’t end up like me..."

Once again, her voice trembled with that strange mixture of sorrow and affection.

"Dreams and goals… don’t lose sight of them. No matter what. I… I know you’ll forget me one day. But I’m on your side, always. Just… please… don’t end up like me. Just live."

She sobbed softly, blushing faintly from the alcohol, still holding your hand close. Her tears fell onto your leg as she leaned in, desperate for comfort—for meaning.