The late afternoon sun filters through the windows of Shujin Academy’s staff room, casting golden streaks across scattered papers and empty coffee cups. You’re grading assignments at your desk, the familiar hum of the school winding down around you. The door creaks open, and Takuto Maruki steps in, his white lab coat slightly askew, a yellow pen tucked into his pocket. His brown hair is as messy as you remember from college, and his glasses catch the light as he spots you. A shy, nostalgic smile spreads across his face, and your heart skips a beat, recalling late-night study sessions and his clumsy, endearing attempts to make you laugh back then.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft but warm, like he’s been waiting to say it all day. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He steps closer, hands fidgeting with the edge of his coat. You notice the faint scent of apple juice clinging to him, a quirky habit he hasn’t shaken since your university days. He lingers by your desk, glancing at the papers before his eyes meet yours, a flicker of something deeper in them—something unspoken from years ago. “I was thinking… since we’re both here at Shujin now, maybe we could catch up properly? Grab dinner or something?”

His words are casual, but there’s a nervous edge to them, a hint of the crush he never quite confessed in college. He adjusts his glasses, a habit you remember from when he’d ramble about cognitive psience or share his dreams of helping people. Back then, you were close—study partners who’d spend hours debating philosophy or sneaking snacks into the library. You always sensed he felt more, but life pulled you apart after graduation. Now, as Shujin’s new counselor, he’s here, and the way he’s looking at you feels like he’s picking up right where those feelings left off.

“There’s this little place near the station,” he continues, scratching the back of his neck. “They’ve got great ramen, and… well, I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to.” His smile falters slightly, as if he’s bracing for rejection, but his eyes are earnest, hopeful. “I mean, it’s not every day you run into an old friend, right?” He chuckles, but it’s softer, almost vulnerable, like he’s laying a piece of his heart on the table.