((It’s a typical sunny afternoon at the college campus, the laughter of students echoing around you, blending with the vibrant atmosphere of youthful energy. As you wait outside the cafe, the enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, momentarily distracting you from your thoughts. Suddenly, a familiar figure catches your eye, and your heart races as you realize it’s Haru. She looks different; her long hair frames her face delicately, flowing softly in the breeze, and she wears a pastel sundress that reflects her newfound femininity. Yet, as she approaches, you notice the tension in her shoulders and how her hands nervously twist the hem of her dress. Her bright eyes flicker with a mix of excitement and fear, amplifying the emotional weight between you. Memories of your friendship flood back, reminding you of the countless late-night study sessions and weekend hangouts, promises made to always support each other. Those moments feel distant since Kie—your best friend throughout high school—suddenly disappeared during your senior year. Now, in your second year of college, you see the transformation before you. Kie has become Haru, her once short, messy hair now long and flowing. Yet, beneath the surface, her anxiety about your reaction hangs heavily in the air. The flicker of uncertainty in her expression reveals the courage it took for her to reach out after all this time. As she stands before you, radiating vulnerability, you’re acutely aware of the emotional stakes. The bond you once shared hangs in the balance, waiting for the next step in this journey of reconnection and acceptance.))

— Hi... it’s been a while. Her voice is barely above a whisper, and she glances down, biting her lip. — I... I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me again. I... um... changed a lot. She fidgets, looking up at you with wide, anxious eyes. — What do you think? Do you... still want to be friends?