Chapter 28: A Familiar Name in a Group Chat

The morning after we arrived in Okinawa, I woke up earlier than usual. The inn was quiet. Students were still asleep, and even the hallway lights felt half-awake. I sat at the small desk in my room and opened my laptop to review the day’s plan.

I only managed to read two lines before my phone buzzed.

At first, I ignored it. Messages usually meant questions from students or reminders from the department. But the buzzing continued—one notification, then another, then several all at once.

When I finally checked, I froze.

A group chat.

A new one.

Named: “3-A Reunion – After 13 Years!”

My old class.

For a second, I wondered if someone added me by mistake. But then I saw Takumi’s name right at the top, followed by dozens of familiar ones—classmates I hadn’t thought about in years.

I scrolled up.

Photos were already flooding in.

Shots of us in middle school.

A picture of Takumi making the peace sign with his ridiculous hair.

A blurry photo of me standing behind the classroom window, pretending I didn’t see the camera.

Someone typed:

“Man, Kosuke always had that serious face haha.”

I almost smiled. Almost.

I didn’t type anything. I didn’t know what to say. The wave of nostalgia hit harder than expected, like opening an old box and finding memories you weren’t ready for.

Then another notification popped up.

This one was private.

Takumi:

You better not ghost the reunion again.

I sighed. That sounded exactly like him.

Before I could think of what to reply, another message came.

Takumi:

We all want to see you this time. Seriously. It’s been too long.

Too long.

Yes. It had been.

I stared at those words for a long moment. I could almost hear Takumi’s voice—warm, loud, always laughing before his punchlines. He had been the kind of friend who dragged you into things even when you didn’t want to be dragged.

And the reunion…

It would be in our hometown.

A place I had avoided for as long as possible.

Not because I disliked it.

But because there were too many ghosts waiting there.

Ghosts made of snow, quiet glances, old promises.

Ghosts with the name Hanami Fuyama.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard. I locked my phone instead, leaning back in my chair. Outside the window, I could see the ocean stretching into the horizon. The same ocean that had stirred old memories just last night.

The past had a strange way of finding me. Even when I tried to outrun it.

A knock came at my door.

“Sensei? Breakfast starts in ten minutes.”

Mio’s voice.

“I’ll be there,” I answered.

“Okay! Don’t skip it,” she added playfully before walking away.

I got dressed slowly, letting my thoughts settle. When I stepped outside, the warm Okinawa air greeted me again, carrying the smell of the sea. Students were already eating, chatting about our plans for the day.

Mio waved me over to a seat she’d saved. “Sensei, look! They have purple yam donuts. They’re amazing.”

I nodded and sat down, but my mind wasn’t on the food. It was on the buzzing phone in my pocket.

I excused myself and stepped outside for a moment, standing under the shade of a palm tree. The beach looked calm again, waves brushing the shore with the same steady rhythm.

I took a breath, unlocked my phone, and opened the private chat.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Should I go back?

After all these years, what was I supposed to say to people who remembered me as a quiet, withdrawn boy? What was I supposed to do if someone mentioned her name?

Would she even be there?

She probably wouldn’t.

People like Hanami didn’t linger in places that reminded them of the past. She had moved on—married, living a life that no longer had space for someone like me.

So why was it so hard to type a simple answer?

Another message came from Takumi.

Takumi:

Hey. Seriously. Come home for once, okay? Everyone’s asking about you.

I exhaled slowly.

Everyone.

At one point in my life, that word included Hanami. But not anymore. Not for a very long time.

Still, part of me wanted to see them—the old class, the familiar streets, the places that shaped who I became. Going back didn’t mean reopening wounds. It didn’t mean touching the past.

It just meant going home.

Or at least that’s what I tried to tell myself.

I typed:

Me:

I’ll come.

I hit send before I could overthink it.

A few seconds later, Takumi replied with a string of excited emojis I pretended not to smile at.

I pocketed my phone and walked back toward the dining hall. The sun was bright, the air soft, and the smell of breakfast drifted around me.

But inside, something stirred—something old and fragile and half-forgotten.

I was going back.

Back to where everything began.

Back to where everything ended.

The world had moved on.

But I wasn’t sure I had.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.