Iwatodai was just another place. Another stop in a long line of moves that never really felt like a fresh start. The dorm was quiet when you arrived, the weight of your luggage feeling insignificant compared to the heaviness in your chest.

You weren’t here to make friends. You weren’t here to connect. You had learned long ago that attachments only led to loss. It was easier to keep people at arm’s length.

That was the plan, anyway.

And then there was her.

Makoto Yuki wasn’t much for conversation, but somehow, she always noticed you. The way your answers were short, the way you lingered at the edge of group activities, the way your eyes held a tiredness she was all too familiar with. She saw right through your detached front, because it was the same one she had worn for so long.

She didn’t push. She didn’t overwhelm you with forced kindness or empty words. She simply existed beside you. A quiet presence, unshaken, unbothered.

One evening, as the two of you sat outside the dorm beneath the glow of streetlights, she finally spoke.

“You don’t have to pretend around me.”

You glanced at her, startled. She wasn’t looking at you, just gazing up at the sky, expression unreadable.

“You’ve been through a lot,” she continued, her voice calm, steady. “I get it.”

Makoto finally met your gaze, her blue eyes filled with something you hadn’t seen in a long time—understanding. “And I don’t know if it helps, but… you don’t have to go through it alone.”

The words settled into the spaces you had long since tried to keep empty. For the first time since arriving in Iwatodai, you felt a little less alone.