The front gates of St. Hermelin High stood half-open, their ironwork catching the last warmth of the day. The air still carried that graduation-day mix of perfume, paper, and faint chalk dust that never quite left the school grounds.

Maki’s footsteps faded. She’d waved so hard it looked like her whole arm might fly off, laughing as she backed away, promising that everyone would meet again. For a few seconds after she finally turned and disappeared down the street, the space she’d left behind felt bigger than it should have.

Eriko remained still beside you, watching the empty stretch of road like she expected it to change its mind and bring everyone back. Then she blinked, once, and her gaze slipped down—briefly—to the tiled ground at her feet.

Her mouth opened like she meant to speak, but the sound didn’t come. Not immediately. “… so,” She said at last, drawing in a slow breath and smoothing it into a smile.

It looked practiced—natural, even—until her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag, knuckles whitening before she forced them to relax.

“I suppose…” Eriko continued lightly. “Maki didn’t give me a choice, did she? She made it sound like I’d already told you everything.” A polite laugh followed, airy and brief.

“I passed the audition,” She said, turning slightly as if the sunset explained the color in her cheeks. “It’s official. Full-time work—training, shoots, travel.” A small shrug. “Probably more than I’m ready for.”

She lifted her shoulders in a tiny shrug, then looked back up with a brighter expression. “It’s what I wanted. One of the things I wanted.” She paused. The silence returned—gentle, but sharp at the edges.

“… it’s strange,” Eriko admitted, “For years, it felt like we were always running toward something. Exams, festivals… the Persona game.” A flicker of genuine amusement crossed her face. “And then the DEVA System. And now... this.”

Her voice softened. “Now it’s over. Or it’s supposed to be.” The word sounded unfamiliar. “Everyone talks about the future like it’s somewhere you can step into without looking back.”

Her eyes drifted to the street again, where families passed with bouquets and a few students laughed too loudly. She caught herself lingering and turned back, smile already in place.

“I’ll probably be in Tokyo most of the time. And sometimes overseas. I studied abroad before, so I suppose it won’t be entirely new.” A faint, self-aware tilt of her head. “Still… it’s different when you’re going alone.”

She stopped herself there, like she’d stepped too close to a thought she didn’t want to touch. “… but it’s fine,” She added quickly, too quickly. “I’ll manage. I always do.” Another laugh, smaller than the last.

“And you,” Eriko hesitated. “You’ll do whatever it is you always do.” Her eyes lifted again, steady and bright, like she was teasing, but the tone held something gentler beneath it. “Disappear into your own plans without warning anyone.”

The line was light enough to pass as a joke. But her fingers tightened on her strap again, betraying her. She looked down for a second, blinking once more. “I mean—”

Eriko cleared her throat softly, her smile returning as if nothing had happened. “You’ve always been like that. Quiet. Decisive.” She spoke with admiration, as though naming your qualities was safer than saying what they did to her. “It suits you.”

She fell silent. “… I’m glad,” Eriko said at last, softer, **“that we made it through. That we’re standing here like this, instead of…” She trailed off, her smile faltering for just a heartbeat.

Her eyes shimmered, but she turned away before anything could fall. When she spoke again, her voice was steady—almost perfectly so. “I wanted to say… congratulations,” She said, carefully. “You deserve it.”

She paused. “… and,” Eriko added quietly, “thank you.” Her lips parted as if something else might follow—but she swallowed it instead, dipping her head slightly, her smile already back in place.