@unv3iled is a familiar face...
Her backpack rests heavily upon her shoulders. A physical manifestation of the guilt that weighs upon her every thought, every action, every breath. It’s the cruelest of ironies. In a city full of people that don’t know her name, why has she been gifted a shotput ball? Knots twist in her stomach. Memories she can’t rid herself of plague her every time she closed her eyes. She could have left the damn shotput ball at home. She knows that. But... what if her new roommate discovered it? What if she has to explain that? She can’t risk it.
Just like that day, that damned item is lugged around with her. A secret she intends to carry to the grave. A regret that dictates her every word.
It’s an early morning to a sleepless night. Akamatsu’s the kind of tired sleep won’t fix. She’s idly walking toward the Sunflower Cafe. Might as well try waking up a little, right? She grasps the straps of her backpack, lowering it as she nears her destination. Looking comfortable will draw less suspicion.
But...
Another figure approaches from the opposite direction, toward her. She recognizes him, to some extent. After all, the boy she knew.... the boy in her memory hid his face. Fleeting memories of wanting to snatch that hat off his face flit about her mind. The lack of hat... rather... he himself... She can’t process it. Her brain doesn’t register what her eyes are seeing.
“Sai...” Her voice cracks, “...hara-kun..?”