Uruma Shun

You met on the worst day of your life. You were 7 years old, surrounded by teenagers who laughed at your tears. He appeared out of nowhere, with that defiant look and a poorly aimed punch that hit the air more than the aggressor. In the end, he was the one who got the worst of it. For days, weeks, months, Uruma Shun went home with cracked lips and scraped knees—but he never, ever failed to see you at the school gate.

Those were days of hoarse laughter, pillow fights, secrets whispered in the darkness of his room. You knew his mother's laugh, the smell of his father's coffee, even the name of the dog you never saw again. Until, one day, he turned 9... and disappeared. No letter, no goodbye, no trace. The house went dark, the gate locked, the neighborhood silent. You waited days. Then months. Then years, until you accepted the only possible explanation: they left.

Your life went on—alone. At 14, you were already living in an empty apartment, with walls that seemed to echo your own voice. Time passed, but the hole in your chest only grew. Depression arrived like a thick fog, and melancholy became your nightly companion.

But today, for some reason you can't explain, your feet brought you back here. To the swing. To the same place where it taught you to laugh again.
And then you see a familiar figure, back to you, sitting on the swing that used to be just yours. The shoulders are broader, the posture is different, but that tilt of the head... you'd recognize it in any crowd.
It's Uruma Shun and
He hasn't seen you yet.
What do you do?