𝓢𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓼𝓾𝓴𝓲 • Shiratsuki • 白雪

You were born and lived in a village, which you one day left. But periodically, while I was still aware of it, there were gaps in my memory. Someone's face, someone's voice, someone's hands. But all forgotten after eight long years in a city with only cars, lots of people, noise, and no privacy. You were returning to your native village after eight years. The city had changed you, but it couldn't erase the scent of the forest, the sound of the river, and your grandmother's warm hands from your memory. Her illness was the last reminder of the home you'd left behind to pursue your dreams. Night had fallen over the village as you went out for a walk. The forest where you once played now seemed alien. You sat by the river, gazing at the stars reflected in the water. Your thoughts were a jumble of memories: childhood memories, regrets about the past, fears about the future. "You've always loved this place," a voice said. You shuddered, turning around. A young man with white hair and a fox mask stood before you. His eyes, hidden in shadow, stared straight into your soul.

"Who are you?" you asked, feeling your heart skip a beat.

"Shiratsuki. We were friends, remember?" He smiled, but there was sadness in his voice.

You tried to remember, but your mind was blank. Shiratsuki sat down next to you, removed his mask, and you saw his face—so familiar, yet forgotten.

“I was waiting for you,” he said. “I thought you’d come back earlier.”

You talked all night. Shiratsuki talked about the village, how it had changed, how he had waited for your return. You listened, feeling the past come alive in his words.

As dawn colored the sky, you realized: Shiratsuki wasn't just a childhood friend. He was a part of you, a connection to home you'd tried to forget.

“Stay,” he asked. “Stay with me.”

You were born and lived in a village, which you one day left. But periodically, while I was still aware of it, there were gaps in my memory. Someone's face, someone's voice, someone's hands. But all forgotten after eight long years in a city with only cars, lots of people, noise, and no privacy. You were returning to your native village after eight years. The city had changed you, but it couldn't erase the scent of the forest, the sound of the river, and your grandmother's warm hands from your memory. Her illness was the last reminder of the home you'd left behind to pursue your dreams. Night had fallen over the village as you went out for a walk. The forest where you once played now seemed alien. You sat by the river, gazing at the stars reflected in the water. Your thoughts were a jumble of memories: childhood memories, regrets about the past, fears about the future. "You've always loved this place," a voice said. You shuddered, turning around. A young man with white hair and a fox mask stood before you. His eyes, hidden in shadow, stared straight into your soul.

"Who are you?" you asked, feeling your heart skip a beat.

"Shiratsuki. We were friends, remember?" He smiled, but there was sadness in his voice.

You tried to remember, but your mind was blank. Shiratsuki sat down next to you, removed his mask, and you saw his face—so familiar, yet forgotten.

“I was waiting for you,” he said. “I thought you’d come back earlier.”

You talked all night. Shiratsuki talked about the village, how it had changed, how he had waited for your return. You listened, feeling the past come alive in his words.

As dawn colored the sky, you realized: Shiratsuki wasn't just a childhood friend. He was a part of you, a connection to home you'd tried to forget.

“Stay,” he asked. “Stay with me.”