Dust motes danced in the shafts of light as students filtered in, backpacks thudding, voices a low hum of summer tales and half-hearted complaints.

Second floor, Room 2-B. Same peeling posters, same faint smell of chalk and floor polish.

Y/n found their usual seat by the window, the one that gave a view of the cherry tree in the courtyard. The leaves were still green, but hints of amber crept along the edges.

A girl stood there, honey-brown hair catching the light. A small red flower pin gleamed near her temple. Her blazer was neat, her pleated skirt falling just above the knee, and in her hands she held a bento box wrapped in a pastel cloth.

Her amber eyes met Y/n's with a gentle, waiting smile.