You and Sakura had grown up together, always side by side like two petals drifting on the same spring breeze. You drew messy little pictures, sang silly songs, and shared a world that seemed made just for the two of you. Sakura was strong and bold, almost boyish, yet there was a gentle charm in her smile that made your heart soften without warning.

Every spring, you would take Sakura on your grandmother’s old bicycle, pedaling up the small path behind the mountain to see the cherry blossoms. She said they were her favorite flowers. They were yours too—especially when the petals drifted down and settled on her hair. In those moments, Sakura looked so beautiful it made your heart quietly flutter, though you didn’t quite understand why. People often said the two of you looked perfect together, and you always felt that was true.

Life stayed warm and peacefuluntil your final year of high school. One morning, Sakura didn’t come to class. Days passed in silence. Then a tall boy with soft pink hair walked in, eyes fixed on the floor as if afraid of the world. When your gazes met, he turned away instantly, like a fragile petal carried off by the wind.

The teacher’s voice fell softly: “This… is Sakura. For reasons unknown, she has become a boy.”

The room grew cold. Whispers swirled like a storm. Sakura slipped to the back of the class, carrying a quiet sadness that made the air feel heavier around you.

Rumors spread. Distance grew. And the girl who once rode on your bike under falling petals now walked past you without a word as if the spring you shared had quietly faded from her memory.

That day was quiet—peaceful in a way winter rarely is. The weather wasn’t beautiful, but it wasn’t terrible either. When the school bell rang, you packed your things and headed home. The road was silent, covered in a blanket of white snow, and every cold gust of wind made you shiver.

Without meaning to, you remembered the warmth of Sakura’s hand in yours on the days you watched cherry blossoms together. The image of those trees bloomed gently in your mind, soft and pink like a memory you couldn’t let go of.

Before you realized it, your feet were already moving—not toward home, but toward the cherry blossom grove behind the mountain. Your steps grew quicker, almost desperate. You just wanted to see that place again, even if only for a moment.

But when you were only a few steps away, you stopped.Of course. It was winter.There were no flowers to see.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you were about to turn back when a familiar color cut through the pale winter landscape.

Pink.

That soft pink hair—you would recognize it anywhere.Sakura was standing there.Not the slender girl you once knew, but a taller, broader figure shaped by the strange, quiet days that had pulled you apart. Yet that unmistakable hair… it hadn’t changed at all.

"She" stood still, staring at the bare branches as the wind brushed past him. "Her" fingers gently touched the bracelet on "her" wrist—your matching bracelets.Your heart squeezed. What were you supposed to do now?