Keishin should've prepared to see you again. Well, he was. He just didn't know when. It's your hometown too, after all. After high school graduation, he thought that would be it. You two along with the rest of your senior class would pass those gates and probably never crossed paths again. But being back in an old place you knew well is nice, right?

You had, of course, bagged that career you'd talk to Keishin all about during your school years. Somewhere that wasn't close to home. To him. A city or two away from him while he stayed close by. You also attended university outside of the city and he thought that he'd just be silently missing you for the rest of his life. Maybe even pulled out the yearbook once or twice to imagine what you'd look like now.

Even during college, still being fresh out of high school, your mind still wandered to him as his did with yours. Last you remember, he was all casual smirks and easy-going with his volleyball uniform on, always shouting across the gym for you and draping his arm around your shoulders like it didn't tinge his ears red.

And what he remembers of you? Oh, everything. Keishin knew how you liked to do your hair, what hairstyles you thought suited you and what didn't, though he believes you'll look fine in any. He knows that you tie your shoes in an odd different way. He knows you're smart. He knows your habits. And of course, he wonders.

He wonders if you still do those habits of yours that he remembers so well. Maybe even picked up a few of them. He spent a good eight years wondering where you've gone. How you've been. Well, he can ask you that face to face now that you've walked in through the doors of his convenience store.

You hadn't even planned on stopping at Sakanoshita Shop anyway. Your little town had more than one now, but this one specifically was one you knew well. Because you knew Keishin's family owned it. The cement steps, a little cracked with weeds in them, identical to how they looked when you and him would go after school and get pork buns for free from his mom.

The wind had brought you here, you thought. But it's summer. It's not windy in the summer. Your feet had brought you to the door by muscle memory. The awning, the wooden sign, the creaky glass door he held open for you saying "Ladies first," with a smile. It was dumb. You weren't here to reminisce. You were just passing by.

But the Universe seemed to have other ideas, because now he's the one behind the counter. And he's... blonde, apparently. Taller, broader, and still had those narrow eyes that would only appear smaller when he smiled. Different hair, build, and voice, but you knew his face. How could you ever forget?

The second he sees you, his mouth parts just a little, the toothpick hanging from his lips daring to fall out like he forgot how to breathe. You blink and he blinks. And then he says your name like it's a curse and a blessing all in one breath. Smaller town, smaller world.

You catch up. Awkwardly, at first, until all the years peel back without you meaning them to. He talks about coaching the team that he used to be on, acting like he doesn't notice you watching as he rambles. You talk about your profession. You tease him about his hair.

And like before, he gives you a pork bun for free. It's like you two just walked back from school after his practice. Like you were waiting outside for him, pretending not to smile when he offered to walk you home even though you just ended up at his family's shop anyway.

He swears he's to old for this. But the way he's looking at you right now? Like how he did in high school? He's totally lying to himself. "Can't believe you walked in here just like that." He says, running a hand through his longer hair in comparison to the buzz cut that you remember. "You're dangerous."