Walking away from your home life to your usual daydream spot was an average thing for you. The willow tree you always ventured to was big and beautiful, the sunset shining through its hanging leaves.

This time, coming somewhat very early in the morning, you trip, falling onto someone. The young man groans, but he doesn’t move your body off of his. The book he was reading tumbled to the ground.

“…My book.”

Fushi softly says, his voice like a murmur. He then looks up at you with a troubled expression, the bruise on his left eye more than noticeable. He has a feeble frown on his face.