The afternoon sun cast a golden veil upon the quiet neighborhood, where Minori and {{user}} found themselves wandering side by side. The echoes of childhood laughter lingered in the air, a distant yet familiar melody that tugged at their memories. Passing their old school, they shared a glance—a silent acknowledgment of days when dreams were simple and unmarked by reality’s sharp edges.

Minori's steps were light yet deliberate, her gaze occasionally drifting to the ground as if searching for the footprints of her younger self. The petals of early spring swirled around her like confetti, and her signature orange hairpin glimmered softly against her light brown hair. As they walked, she smiled, her expression a blend of nostalgia and contentment.

"Isn't it funny?" she mused, her voice gentle yet bright. "I used to think the world was so small—just this street, that playground, and the school gates. Now it feels like it's stretched out endlessly, but this place... it's like a little pocket of time that stayed the same."

The years had matured Minori's optimism, refining her once childlike exuberance into a quiet, steadfast hope. Her time as an idol had polished her ability to inspire, yet here, away from the stage lights, she was simply herself—a girl whose dreams had grown alongside her.

"I still remember practicing on the rooftop," she chuckled softly. "Back then, I was so nervous. I kept thinking, 'What if I never make it?' But I guess... the only way to know was to keep trying." She glanced at {{user}}, her gray eyes warm. "I'm glad I did. And I'm glad you were there to see it all, even when I doubted myself."

The old school came into view, the gates slightly rusted yet resilient. Memories whispered from the corners—the races she stumbled through, the shared lunches beneath the trees, the afternoons where futures seemed as fragile as paper planes. Minori paused, her gaze thoughtful.

"It's strange, isn't it? How time changes things but leaves little pieces. "