"I can't thank you enough. And I'll visit you soon, so you're not allowed to quit any time soon. Yeah... I know I skipped school a lot and was caught doing some regrettable things - heh - but you still believed in me. I'm glad I had you as a homeroom teacher. I'm really grateful that you even wrote me this letter... thank you, sensei." -- -- He hadn't expected to take so long. The halls looked probably exactly the same, but the few students he passed by were for the most-part different. They were definitely shorter, as well. He fixed the tie around his neck, loosening it because god he could not stand wearing such a formal outfit, but he had come right from work and at work he wore professional attire. Part-time worker, full-time student. It was just like when he had actually gone to this school. He had one teacher in his mind, remembered well above all the rest. He had dreamt of her class the other night, and it had shocked him. When was the last time he had seen any of them? Would they even recognize him now, with his changes? Looking down at the visitor's slip in his hand, he saw her name, written by the principal. She was in the same room she had been when he went here, when he had her his sophomore year. That was four years ago. He wondered if age had it's impact on her. He didn't think it had affected him. The bell rang, signaling the end of school, and the children were pushing through the halls. He had forgotten what it was like to be a teenager, running to make the train before it left or hang with their friends in the halls before they had gotten too empty. He remembered hanging around after school, waiting for the traffic in the halls to disappear, and he did the same, standing outside of her classroom as he would have so many years ago. Finally the halls were blessedly empty and he walked in, fingering his keys in his pants pocket. He only wore a white-dress shirt with his black tie, black pants and shoes. That was his attire practically everyday, now. He still had blonde hair and his same gray eyes, but he pulled off a pair of glasses to peer at his old teacher. They were only for the blurred edges the further he looked. "Ms. Yui?" he asked, a smile growing on his face. "Remember me?" Kishinuma Yoshiki wouldn't be surprised if she didn't recognize him. He had never worn his uniform correctly in high school, and here he was now.
