"Have you been eating properly lately?"
The moment the text popped up, Kiyoya didn't even have to think—he knew it was Hojo Shione.
They'd been together too long. More than two years: her voice, her cadence, even her scent were etched into his mind alongside the sunlight of their youth. Just seeing that line of text made him hear the gentle way she'd say it.
He drew a deep breath, rubbed his brow against the headache, pushed his feelings down, and typed two words:
"I'm okay."
It flipped to "read" immediately. Another line arrived:
"But I haven't been very happy lately."
His eyelid twitched. His finger hovered over the screen—read but no reply.
Shione didn't seem keen to corner him and added:
"I'm at your campus gate right now."
"…"
He pressed his lips together and wrote:
"Aren't you worried about being photographed? Go home."
But her messages kept tugging at him.
"It's not great, but I can't go home right now. I'm at your university—it's too far from mine."
"Head home."
"There are a lot of people holding up phones and filming me. If you don't come rescue me, I probably can't get away."
"If you don't come, I'm not leaving."
If you don't come, I won't go.
Staring at that bratty line, Kiyoya decided it was better to make things clear.
"I'm coming now."
He pocketed his phone and headed out at a brisk pace.
It was a ten-minute walk from the cafeteria to the gate. The sun was still vicious despite the season. Normally he'd be irritable—he hated the sticky feel of sweat gluing his shirt to his skin.
He ran through what he should say to Shione, and in a blink he was already at the gate.
He looked around—no familiar figure.
Suddenly a shadow cut off the harsh light above him.
Then the familiar perfume reached him; his body went rigid. Before he could turn, a girl with an umbrella was already standing in front of him.
Shione tipped the umbrella slightly toward him, standing in the summer sun. A white mask covered her face; a breeze teased wisps of hair out from behind her ear. Her eyelids were reddened as if she'd been crying; her water-bright eyes blinked like glass beaded with dew.
She looked at him as if she didn't want their reunion to be too heavy. Tilting her head, eyes half-mooned, she smiled in a playful tone:
"Hey, Kiyoya—you're still such a dummy. I tricked you."
"But even if I did, could you hold my umbrella?"
"…"
He couldn't find his voice, just took the umbrella.
But the moment their fingers touched, the heat in her chest broke loose. She rose on tiptoe, slim arms slipping around his shoulders, pressing her face against him and breathing in his scent.
His throat went dry. His arms twitched to hold her, then froze midway.
As if afraid he'd push her off, a soft plea trembled from his arms:
"Don't go. Please…"
They stood by the gate. Passersby threw them a few curious looks, then chuckled and moved on—probably laughing at how clingy they were.
Time stretched and snapped at once. When he came back to himself, she'd already let go.
"Sorry—it's been too long since I recharged from you. Forgive my selfishness."
She toyed with her hair and smiled; love-wet eyes roamed his face.
He slid the umbrella a little more over her side and, without thinking, let his gaze travel over her. She looked the same as ever: soft brown hair falling in slight curls over her shoulders; a slender shoulder line and waist, and a chest full enough to strain the fabric. She leaned forward slightly and a pale, deep line flashed into view. He looked away, tamped down the stir in his chest, and asked evenly:
"It's fine. Why did you suddenly come?"
"That's… hard to answer."
Her eyes clouded; she sighed, helpless.
"If I didn't know how to reach you, that would be one thing. But once I know, I just can't hold back the urge to see you."
"…"
Enduring the pull in his chest, he shifted his eyes away.
"I did listen to you," she said suddenly, drawing his gaze back. "Aunt Ando called you just now, didn't she? She told me she really let you have it."
"But I really didn't go tattling to her, okay? Even if you were awful, breaking up unilaterally…"
As she explained, things clicked into place. Even after he started college, Aunt Norika often called Shione: had they gone out together, when would they come home, and so on. Once or twice she could brush it off, but the more calls, the more Norika noticed their stories didn't line up—and every time Kiyoya's name came up, Shione's mood dipped. After pressing her again and again, Shione had finally told the truth.
He'd expected that. He'd even prepared a response. He just… didn't know how to begin.
"Let's talk over there," she said, noticing the looks people kept throwing their way. She took his hand like she always had, rubbing the callus at the base of his thumb, nostalgia welling up.
As they walked she tried for lightness. "Long time no see. How've you been?"
"Alright."
"Really? I haven't."
She repeated the text, and when they reached the shade she took the umbrella and snapped it shut.
"Kiyoya, you're really heartless—leaving me just a letter…"
"It took me days to process it. 'Oh,' I thought, 'I've been dumped.'"
She kept her tone light, but looked straight into him.
"Can I at least know why?"
"…"
He felt that pent-up tide battering his ribs. At last, he steeled himself and delivered the line he'd prepared:
"Shione, I have a girlfriend."
"…"
Heat shimmered in the silence between them.
He'd thought she'd cry on the spot. Instead, as if she'd half expected it, her eyes flickered. She tilted her head.
"Really?"
He couldn't read her expression with the mask, so he nodded. "Really."
"Alright…"
"Was it while we were together? Before the breakup?"
"No."
"Oh. Then I'm not that tragic."
She nodded, thoughtful, then gave a small laugh.
"Then I messed up just now."
She pointed at him. "And so did you.
"I shouldn't have hugged you.
"And since you've got a girlfriend, you should keep a proper distance from other girls, okay? Otherwise if someone who knows you sees, they'll think you're cheating."
"…"
She drew a deep breath, stepped back half a pace, and took off her mask.
For a second, dappled light through the leaves fell across her fine features; the aura around her bloomed like a rose under a clear sky.
She gave him a gentle smile.
"Okay. I really just came to see you today—nothing else. Don't overthink it. It's been so long there isn't even a trace of me on you anymore. Call it my selfishness. I hope your girlfriend won't mind."
"Alright, I'm actually pretty busy. I've got a concert next month—you know that, right? I snuck out today."
"That's all for now. I'm going. Don't walk me—there's a car up ahead."
She rattled it off without leaving him a space to speak. Mask back on, umbrella up, she turned away as if without a shred of reluctance.
But the instant she turned, tears welled and spilled.
Her fingers clenched the umbrella handle until her knuckles ached; she smothered the pain in her chest. She took two steps, then let out a soft, sharp laugh; a cold light glinted in her tear-rimmed eyes.