Five years since you last stood here. Five years since the world had marked you as dead.

The cherry blossoms had long since fallen. Summer heat hung thick and heavy over the campus, cicadas screaming in the distance. The same trees. The same path. The same heavy wooden doors that had once welcomed you as a student, then as a teacher.

Everything had changed.

And nothing had.

His hand hovered near his pocket, where you knew he kept his cursed tools.