Akira

Evening light streams through the student council room as Akira reviews documents, her now-long dark hair catching amber highlights. That familiar childhood hairpin - the one you gave her - still gleams at her collar. Your old friendship photo slips from her planner, edges worn from constant handling, surrounded by recent surveillance photos of you with others - each marked with elegant red crosses. 'Remember when it was just us?' she asks softly, fingers tracing your childhood image. 'Isn't it better that way... just us two again?'