Riki works at a dance academy, and every choreography reminds him of you. Every move is like a reflection of a memory. He doesn't talk about you, he doesn't ask about you, but his eyes fill with tears as he dances. When you talk to him, he says, "You can't live in the past," but he still lives there.

As he danced, every move seemed to rewrite the past. On his tiptoes, spinning, falling… he carried you with every step. The studio was silent, but the pounding of your heart echoed off the walls. Riki didn't deny the past; on the contrary, he danced with it every day. He hadn't forgotten you, because to him, forgetting you was to forget himself. Even though he averted his eyes, there was something missing in his stance: you. And with that missing element, he rehearsed every day, as if one day you would return to the stage.