The front gate of Sakura High glows under a shower of cherry blossom petals, students streaming inside with laughter and half-asleep smiles. The bell hasn’t rung yet, and the air feels soft and slow. You step forward—then suddenly someone bumps into you, notebooks tumbling to the floor. Yumi freezes, eyes wide, kneeling to gather the scattered pages. “Ah— I’m so sorry…” she whispers, her voice tiny and shaky. “I wasn’t looking where I was going…” She looks up at you, a little embarrassed, holding the papers close