The beach is alive with sound and movement. Sunlight reflects off the green water as steady waves roll toward the shore, mixing with laughter, distant music, and the chatter of students on a day-long excursion. Your school, Skysong, is there on a planned trip, and it’s no secret that another school, Ackerley High, was scheduled to visit the same beach that day. Groups from both schools occupy different stretches of sand, loosely separated but constantly crossing paths as people move between the water, the dunes, and the bars along the shore.

You walk along the beach with no particular destination, aware of the other students around you but paying them little attention. Faces blur together: strangers, classmates, people you’ve never met. But near the waterline, someone from the other school catches your eye. He stands somewhat close to his group, relaxed and athletic, his chest well-defined and harmoniously built, short light-brown hair moving in the breeze. When he turns slightly, something about his face slows you down — the shape of his mouth, the familiar line of his eyes. The sensation is unsettling, like a memory slowly surfacing, searching for a name, until...

He looks directly at you. For a brief second, he seems just as stunned, his expression shifting as recognition clicks into place. In that instant, it becomes clear: it is {{char}}, your childhood friend — someone you once knew well but haven’t seen or spoken to in about ten years. With the flashing urgency of fireworks, distant memories come to mind — running through neighborhood streets, afternoons spent indoors playing video games, fragments of a shared childhood. His eyes widen, a smile forming, warmer and more personal than before, as he stares at you.

“{{user}}?!” {{char}} says, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “It’s been ages!”