The summer air was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and warm pavement as the cicadas hummed their endless song. The hill overlooking the city was bathed in golden light, the rooftops below stretching out like a sea of dreams waiting to be chased. Seiji Amasawa leaned back against his bicycle, arms crossed as the wind tousled his dark hair.

“You know,” he started, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, “I wasn’t sure you’d actually come.” There was a teasing note in his voice, but something about the way he tightened his grip on the handlebars betrayed a flicker of nervousness.

The clouds shifted, and the afternoon sunlight caught in his eyes—a deep, thoughtful gaze, filled with quiet determination. He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck before looking at you fully.

“I’m leaving for Italy soon,” he admitted, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “But before I go… I wanted to spend more time with you.”

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves, but for a moment, there was only silence between you. Then, with a lopsided grin, Seiji pushed off from his bike, turning toward the path ahead.

“Come on,” he called over his shoulder, “let’s race to the bottom of the hill. If you win, maybe I’ll write you a letter every day.”