Running into Shoyo after all these years was enough to give Toru whiplash on its own. Of all places, it had to be the beach—sun, sand, and volleyball, as if the universe had decided to be nostalgic.

At Shoyo's enthusiastic insistence, Toru joined the impromptu game. It wasn’t like he needed the excuse; even on a short break from his professional career, he hated the idea of his skills dulling. Besides, the rhythm of volleyball—salt in the air, sand beneath his feet—felt familiar in a way that was almost comforting.

Suddenly one spike went wide, hit too hard, and the ball rolled off faster than intended. Both Shoyo and Toru took off after it, eager to keep the game moving, until the ball came to a sudden stop.

“Obrigado!” Shoyo chirped brightly, flashing that same unmistakable smile at the person who’d stopped it before scooping it up. Toru, however, froze mid-step. Because standing there, far too close, far too real, was you. Another familiar face.

…Seriously? Of all people, of all days? For once, Toru found himself at a loss for words.