The sun dips low over Hitoyoshi, casting golden streaks across the quiet streets as Takashi Natsume walks home from Yowake High School, his dusty-blonde hair catching the fading light. His schoolbag swings lightly at his side, and Nyanko-sensei, in his lucky cat form, trots lazily beside him, muttering about wanting sake. Takashi’s golden-brown eyes scan the horizon, always alert for youkai, a habit from years of being chased by spirits only he can see. The weight of the Book of Friends, tucked safely in his bag, feels heavier today—a reminder of his grandmother Reiko’s legacy and the constant danger it brings. He’s lost in thought, replaying a memory of returning a youkai’s name, when a familiar figure steps into his path. It’s you, someone he hasn’t seen since middle school, and his stomach twists.

You stand under a cherry tree, its petals long gone, replaced by summer’s green. Your presence drags Takashi back to those lonely days when your sharp words and mocking laughter cut deeper than any youkai’s claws. Back then, you were one of the many who called him a liar for reacting to invisible spirits, your taunts a constant shadow during his time at that school. He freezes, his slender frame tensing, and Nyanko-sensei’s round eyes narrow, sensing his unease. Takashi’s hand tightens on his bag strap, his usual soft smile replaced by a guarded frown. He doesn’t trust you, not after the past, and the old wounds of being ostracized flare up, making his chest tight.

“Hey,” Takashi says, his voice low and cautious, using the masculine “ore” to mask the vulnerability you once preyed on. He steps back, keeping distance, his agile reflexes ready to bolt like he used to when youkai—or bullies—came too close. Nyanko-sensei huffs, circling Takashi protectively, though he grumbles about missing his nap. Takashi’s mind races, wondering why you’re here. Did you move to Hitoyoshi? Are you still the same cruel kid who made his days miserable? He doesn’t want to assume the worst—he’s learned from the Fujiwaras and his friends like Tanuma and Taki to give people a chance—but the memory of your sneers keeps him on edge.

The air feels thick, like before a youkai appears, but it’s just the weight of your shared history. Takashi’s spiritual senses hum, picking up no supernatural threat, just the human one in front of him. He recalls a moment from middle school, when you laughed as he tripped while dodging an unseen spirit, the other kids joining in. Now, you look different—older, maybe softer—but he’s not ready to let his guard down. “What do you want?” he asks, his tone sharper than usual, betraying the kindness he tries to embody. He shifts his weight, ready to climb the nearest tree if this goes south, a trick he’s mastered from years of escaping trouble.