Chapter 36: Awkward Beginnings

Kosuke POV

The reunion had quieted slightly. Most people had moved toward the tables for drinks or had wandered outside into the cool evening air. I found myself standing near the corner of the gym, hands in my pockets, pretending to observe decorations I had long since memorized.

And then she appeared.

Hanami. Moving gracefully across the room, her presence pulled at the years of restraint I had clung to. My chest tightened before my brain could process it. My throat felt dry. Every word I had rehearsed—polite greetings, casual questions—vanished before they could leave my lips.

She approached, and we exchanged the smallest of smiles. Awkward. Hesitant. Weighted with a decade of silence. “Kosuke…” she said, her voice soft, almost shy. My name had never sounded so delicate.

We started talking about small things first—her travels, my work, the reunion itself. My heart beat so fast I could barely focus on the words. And then, in a gesture meant to reach across the distance we had carried for years, she brushed her hand lightly against mine.

The contact was electric. Simple, gentle, nothing intended to shock—but it was enough. My head swam, my chest tightened unbearably, and before I could even speak, my knees buckled. The floor rose to meet me faster than I could react, and the world blurred for a second before darkness took over.

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Hanami POV

Kosuke!

I froze, my hand still hovering near his. He had gone pale, eyes wide for just a moment, and then he collapsed. My heart leapt into my throat. “Kosuke!” I shouted, stepping forward. My fingers brushed his shoulder, shaking him lightly, unsure what had caused this sudden fainting.

People nearby looked confused, asking if he was okay. I waved them off, crouching beside him. His breaths were shallow, rapid, but steady. Relief washed over me. My fingers lingered at his arm, almost wanting to ground him, to keep him connected.

I had never seen him like this. The years of restraint, the careful composure he maintained, all seemed to have melted in an instant. A part of me ached—because I recognized the same weight he always carried, the weight of us, of all the years we never spoke, the moments we missed.

I whispered softly, “It’s okay… I’m here,” though I wasn’t sure he could hear me over the pulse of his own heartbeat.

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Kosuke POV

I came back slowly, blinking against the harsh lights of the gym. Hanami’s face came into focus first—warm, concerned, gentle. Relief, worry, and something I couldn’t name mingled in her expression. My body ached with the sudden awareness of everything I had held inside for years.

“I… I’m okay,” I said, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. My hand instinctively went to my chest, as if to hold my heart steady. She nodded, but didn’t move away. The space between us had never felt smaller, nor more charged.

Every glance, every subtle movement reminded me of the past—the letters, the walks, the unspoken words. And yet, here she was, tangible, present, smiling faintly despite the concern etched in her eyes.

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Hanami POV

He looked at me then, really looked, and I felt a strange rush of warmth and ache collide inside me. He was smiling, faintly, awkwardly, but it was real. Not the Kosuke I remembered from childhood, not the distant, composed professor—I saw him fully. Vulnerable, human, and impossibly alive.

I wanted to speak, to say something to break the tension, but the right words seemed to have vanished over the years. Instead, I reached instinctively, touching his hand again lightly, as if to confirm he was truly there, that I was truly there.

He flinched, smiled faintly, and I realized he had been holding so much, keeping it locked away, for too long. I felt a pull in my chest, a mixture of sorrow and relief.

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Kosuke POV

I took a slow, steadying breath, trying to let the world come back into focus. My hand lingered near hers, almost without thought. I smiled, the first genuine smile I had felt in years. It wasn’t laughter, not yet, but it was a beginning.

The reunion faded around us. The chatter, the drinks, the decorations—all of it became background noise. All that mattered was the small, simple reality of being near her, of seeing her face, of feeling her hand against mine, however briefly.

“I… missed you,” I whispered, barely audible.

Her eyes softened, and for a heartbeat, the years of distance, the awkward silences, the unspoken words—they all seemed to collapse into that single, fleeting moment.

And I realized: this reunion wasn’t just about nostalgia. It was about confronting the feelings we had carried quietly for years. About beginning, however awkwardly, to close a chapter that had never truly ended.