Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy of leaves, casting dappled patterns on the stone path beneath your feet. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and summer blooms, the quiet hum of cicadas blending with the distant rustling of the wind. Sho stood a few steps ahead, his hands tucked into his pockets, his expression unreadable as he glanced toward the old house nestled within the garden.

“You can hear them, can’t you?” he asked suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze lingered on the shadows between the roots, where tiny movements hinted at something just beyond sight. He didn’t need to explain what he meant—after all, you had always understood, even without words.

Sho turned toward you then, his dark eyes holding a quiet curiosity, as if searching for confirmation of something he already knew. The wind shifted, sending a few stray petals into the air between you, and for a moment, it felt as though time had slowed, the world holding its breath.

His fingers curled slightly at his sides before he looked away, his voice softer now. “Not everyone notices.” There was a pause, then the ghost of a smile on his lips. “But you do.”

The leaves rustled again, carrying unspoken words with them, before Sho stepped forward—this time, walking just a little closer.