After submitting the form, Haruto stepped out of the convenience store. The faint chime of the doorbell faded behind him, replaced by the soft whisper of the countryside breeze. The sun was leaning westward, painting everything in shades of gold. He slipped his hands into his pockets and started walking down the narrow path beside the road, his thoughts trailing behind each step.
"Final year of high school…" he thought to himself. "But how many days have I even gone this year?"
He couldn't remember the last time he'd attended classes properly. When he transferred to this countryside school, he'd thought things would change—that a slower, quieter life would help him focus. But somehow, it didn't. He had gotten caught up in moments, in people, in feelings that came too fast to understand.
Now, as the wind brushed past his hair, the weight of reality began to settle in.
