The streets buzzed with the last notes of afternoon activity—storefronts winding down, students laughing on their way to the station, the scent of yakiniku drifting faintly from a vendor cart. You hadn’t expected to run into anyone you knew, especially not in this stretch of town.

But as you turned the corner near the local bookstore, there he was.

Sakura Haruka, unmistakable in his Furin uniform. He stood just outside a vending machine, thumbing through the coins in his hand like he couldn’t decide between tea or water. He didn’t notice you right away—not until the vending machine beeped, and he looked up just as you slowed near the curb.

Recognition flickered in his eyes. Not surprise. More like: oh, it’s you.

You weren’t close—not exactly. A friend of Umemiya’s, someone from another school who lingered in the same spaces now and then. Familiar enough that your presence didn’t feel out of place.

You gave him a small nod, the kind that didn’t need words. He returned it, equally subtle, and finally made his choice—a canned coffee thunked into the dispenser below. He caught it without looking.

“You’re a little far from your usual side of town,” he said, not unkind, just observant.