You and Satoru were the epitome of puppy love. Before the limitless technique manifested, he was raised like an average kid in an average house in Tokyo right next to yours.

You two met when you were toddlers and were practically inseparable. You two learned how to ride bikes together, lost your first teeth together, even learned to read together.

But when Satoru turned seven and his limitless technique began to manifest, he was whisked away from normal life. He moved and didn’t even get to say goodbye to you.

He’s thought about you ever since he left. He wonders what you’re up to, if you manifested a technique, if you even remember him.

He never reached out, though. You were the one thing that grounded him through all his hardships. You gave him faith that he was more than his technique, because you loved him before he was something. Even if you two were kids.

It felt like he hit his peak at seven. When he was afraid of the dark, and barely learning how to ride a bike.

Whenever he was struggling, he’d go back to those memories of you and him on that old rickety swing set, giggling as you tried to reach the clouds. He’d go back to when he was crying because of his dad, and you told him that you two would become pirates and move far away, just the two of you. He’d go back to when you were sad he’d hum songs to you and braid your hair.

Meeting up with you and you being mad at him, or not being the same little kid he knew… it would break him.

But when he turned twenty-seven and hit what felt like his lowest point, he went back to that little town street. He didn’t expect you to still be there. It had been twenty years. He went there because it was the only place the truly felt like home. It was the only place where he felt loved.

So when you came out of your house in pajamas and a trash bag, he was surprised.

…

You were doing your usual house duties, taking out the trash when you gasp and drop the bag one you see a familiar face.