Chapter 11: Reunion
“Have you been eating properly lately?”
The moment the text appeared on his screen, Alan didn’t need to think. He knew it was Akari Hojo.
Too many years together. More than two years of her voice, her rhythm, the faint scent she always carried. Sunlit memories engraved too deeply to fade. With a single glance at those words, he could already hear her gentle tone in his head.
He inhaled slowly, forced the longing down, and typed his reply one letter at a time.
“Doing okay.”
The message was read instantly. Another bubble followed at once.
“But I’m not very happy these days.”
Alan’s eyelid twitched. His stomach tightened.
His thumb hovered above the screen, unsure how to respond.
Hojo didn’t push him. A third message appeared.
“I’m at the school gate right now.”
He really couldn’t catch a break.
***
He knew what that meant.
Alan turned, leaned back against the wall, and tipped his head up, exhaling sharply through clenched teeth.
Do not go.
Absolutely do not meet her.
If they met, anything could happen.
“Aren’t you worried someone might film you? Go home early.”
“I want to, but I can’t. I’m already here, it’s too far.”
“People keep pointing their phones at me. If you don’t come get me, I might be stuck here forever.”
“If you don’t come, I can’t leave.”
“If you don’t come, I won’t go.”
Go home now.
That was what he meant to send.
Instead, his fingers typed…
“I’m on my way.”
Alan realized he’d been wrong.
Faced with Hojo, his heart was nowhere near as strong as he’d believed.
He had forced himself to separate from her, but just a handful of messages had dragged him straight back into the past, aching, desperate to see her again.
Reason, it seemed, had no authority over the heart.
The walk to the school gate took ten minutes under the blazing sun. On any other day, he would’ve cursed the heat.
But not today.
Today, he didn’t know what he would say to her. How he would explain himself. What came next.
His sharp mind stalled completely.
Lost in thought, he realized he was already there.
He scanned the gate. No familiar silhouette.
Then a shadow cut across the glare.
The scent reached him first. His shoulders stiffened.
Before he could turn, a girl holding a parasol stepped in front of him.
Hojo tilted the umbrella toward him, standing beneath the harsh summer light. A white mask covered the lower half of her face, loose strands of hair dancing in the breeze.
Her eyes were swollen, faintly red at the corners. When she blinked, tears made them gleam like glass washed with morning dew.
She smiled, tilting her head.
“Hey, Alan. You’re still so easy to trick.”
“Could you hold the umbrella for a second?”
He took it without speaking.
The instant their fingers brushed, the warmth she’d been holding back spilled over.
She rose onto her toes, slipped her arms around his shoulders, and pressed her face against him, breathing him in.
Alan’s throat went dry.
His arms lifted halfway, then froze, afraid she’d push him away.
Instead, a soft plea drifted up.
“Don’t go… please… don’t leave me…”
People passing the gate glanced over, smirked, and moved on, probably mocking how clingy they looked.
Time stretched, then snapped.
When Alan came back to himself, Hojo had already stepped back.
“Sorry,” she said softly. “It’s been so long since I last recharged from you. Forgive me for being selfish.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear, eyes roaming his face with unguarded affection.
Regaining his composure, Alan shifted the umbrella to shade her.
“It’s fine. But why are you here all of a sudden?”
“That’s… complicated.”
Her gaze clouded. She sighed.
“If I hadn’t known your number, maybe I could’ve let it go. But once I did, the urge to see you became impossible to stop.”
Alan looked away, guilt weighing on him.
“I did hear from her,” Hojo said suddenly, pulling his attention back.
“Aunt Towa called you, right? She told me she chewed you out.”
“But I didn’t go tattling, really. Even though dumping me with just a letter was… cruel.”
Understanding clicked.
Aunt Towa Hakari had been calling Hojo regularly, asking if they were still dating, when they’d come home together.
After dodging the questions a few times, Hojo couldn’t anymore.
The stories didn’t match. Her voice cracked whenever Alan’s name came up. Under pressure, she’d told the truth.
Predictable. Alan had expected it. He’d even rehearsed what to say.
He just didn’t know how to begin.
“Let’s move somewhere else,” she said quietly. “People are staring.”
Noticing the onlookers, Hojo took his hand and led him into the shade.
As they walked, she asked lightly.
“Long time no see. How’ve you been?”
“Okay.”
“Really? Because I haven’t.”
She repeated the words from her message. When they reached the shade, she snapped the umbrella closed.
“Alan, you were heartless. Just a letter, and you vanished.”
“It took me days to realize, oh, I’ve been dumped.”
She tried to sound casual, eyes fixed on him.
“Can I at least know why?”
Alan looked at her, lips parting.
Finally, he forced out the line he’d practiced.
“Hojo… I have a girlfriend now.”
Silence.
Hot air drifted between them.
Hojo’s expression was unreadable, dark in a way Alan couldn’t decipher.
He expected tears.
Instead, she tilted her head, as if confirming a suspicion.
“Really?”
He nodded.
“Really.”
“Really? Really?”
“Yes… for real.”
“Well…”
“Was that while we were still dating? Or after we broke up?”
“After we broke up…”
“Oh. Then I guess I’m not doing too badly.”
She nodded thoughtfully, then laughed softly.
“Then I just made a mistake.”
She pointed at him.
“You made one too.”
“I shouldn’t have hugged you earlier.”
“Honestly, now that you have a girlfriend, you should keep your distance from other girls. If someone who knows you saw us, they’d think you were cheating.”
“….”
She took a deep breath, stepped back half a pace, and pulled down her mask.
Dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves, falling across her delicate face. In that instant, she seemed to glow, like a rose beneath a clear sky.
She smiled gently at Alan.
“Alright. I really just came to see you today. Don’t overthink it. It’s been so long there’s not even a trace of my scent left on you. Call it selfish, but I hope your girlfriend won’t mind.”
“I’m actually pretty busy. You know I have a concert next month, right? I snuck out today.”
“Let’s leave it at that. I’m going now. Don’t walk me out, there’s a car waiting up ahead.”
She kept talking, not giving him a chance to interrupt.
Mask back on, umbrella open, Akari Hojo turned and walked away, without the slightest hesitation.
Yet the moment she turned her back, crystal tears spilled uncontrollably from her eyes.
Her grip on the umbrella handle tightened until her knuckles turned white, struggling to suppress the pain tearing through her chest.
The emotion threatened to overwhelm her, burning like fire.
After two steps, she let out a soft laugh, tear-streaked eyes flashing cold.
“Where did this vixen come from?"
Alan watched Akari Hojo walk away.
He’d always known she was terrible at pretending.
Standing beneath the ginkgo tree, a pace behind her, Alan watched the heat ripple above the asphalt. His gaze followed the slight tremble in her shoulders, the white-knuckled grip on her umbrella.
At 165 centimeters, Hojo was tall for her age, and years of competitions had given her a poise that drew attention even when her face was hidden.
Today, though, she looked like a ginkgo leaf gone brittle, yellow, thin, ready to crumble at the lightest touch.
One step. Two…
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Each footfall landed not on the ground, but against the walls of his chest.
He moved after her.
Putting on a brave face, saying a few self-serving words, then disappearing, it was more than he could stomach.
Cold-blooded. That was the verdict, and it felt deserved.
If she’d screamed, cursed him, called him every name imaginable, he would’ve accepted it gladly.
That would’ve been easier.
Instead, she swallowed everything, grinding herself down.
Years apart, and she was still the same. Taking every blow without complaint.
A restless heat flared beneath Alan’s ribs. He tugged at his collar.
“Let me walk you a bit farther.”
His shadow fell across her path.
Hojo stopped. A flicker of something like hope flashed through her tear-swollen eyes.
So he still has a conscience.
The ache in her chest eased, just a little. She turned away, hiding behind her sleeve.
“I’m fine, really,” she muttered. “It’s not far…”
Jerk.
You still won’t let me go.
She bit her lip and looked up, lashes wet.
“Alan… is there anything else you want to say?”
“…Yeah.”
He nodded, the word scraping painfully out of his throat.
“I just… I…” He lowered his gaze.
“I want you to be okay.”
Hojo’s eyes turned reproachful.
“Your gift is yours,” he continued. “It won’t disappear just because I’m gone. You’ll still rise, no matter whose songs you sing.”
“I hope you can make peace with this. With us. Time smooths everything out. Even if we’re not together, I don’t want you tearing yourself apart.”
Silence settled between them.
“That’s it?” Hojo asked.
He nodded. “…Yeah. That’s it.”
She sighed, weary and soft.
“You still don’t understand, do you?”
“Tell me, why do you think I wanted to be a singer?”
“You think I loved music that much? That I enjoyed eight-hour practices? That I liked forcing down liters of water, babying my throat, rehearsing until dawn for some stupid contest?”
“If it weren’t for you, I would’ve never chosen this path. You have no idea what you meant to me!”
Her voice cracked.
Fresh tears spilled over.
“I do love singing now. I love the lights, the stage, the eyes on me. But the person who cheered me on isn’t there anymore. And the stage feels empty.”
“You pushed me through that door, slammed it shut, and walked away. Then you pat yourself on the back and say, ‘You’ll be fine without me.’”
Her words sharpened, trembling.
“That’s cruel. That’s—”
The last syllable snapped like a whip.
Passersby slowed, phones lifting.
Hojo grabbed Alan’s wrist and dragged him around the corner. Once they were alone, she exhaled shakily.
“I respect your decision,” she said quietly. “We weren’t married. A breakup only needs one signature, right?”
She ground the word married between her teeth and stomped on his foot.
“Just… don’t be this cruel to the next girl.”
A faint smile appeared.
“Oh, right. Miss Kaguya asked me to check, are you really done writing songs?”
Miss Kaguya was Hojo’s producer. Every song Alan had ever sold had passed through her.
“She’s furious you disappeared, changed your number, and ghosted her. Said money could’ve been negotiated, but vanishing like that was low.”
I’m never writing another song.
The words nearly slipped out, but twisted when he met Hojo’s eyes.
“Probably not,” he said instead.
“I’ll tell her that, then?”
“Mm.”
Hojo laughed softly, dreamlike.
“So every song you ever wrote… was for me? That’s kind of romantic.”
Her smile faded.
“Well, that’s everything. We’ve both said what we needed to.”
She pointed toward a black sedan idling nearby.
“My ride’s there. Don’t bother.”
Alan watched her go.
What was left to say?
Let’s get back together? I’ll write for you again? Quit and stay home, and I’ll take care of everything?
Empty promises.
Too late.
He stood there until the car disappeared, then finally turned away.
Buzz.
His phone vibrated.
A message from Hojo lit up the screen.
“You said time heals every wound. But leaving you still feels like yesterday."
