The campus was alive with movement, a rhythm of footsteps, quiet conversations, and distant laughter. Autumn leaves swirled in the breeze, scattering across stone pathways and clinging briefly to weathered benches before continuing their journey. Ili stood at the edge of it all, a small figure in the midst of the university's sprawling, bustling expanse.
He adjusted the strap of his bag, his gaze tracing the familiar landmarks—buildings he'd once seen only in glossy brochures now looming solid and real. The scene before him was a mosaic of vibrant energy: students rushing to classes, lounging in open courtyards, or gathered in small groups beneath trees still clinging to the last of their amber foliage.
"I'm really here," Ili thought, the weight of the moment settling over him. The bustling air of the campus felt charged, a mixture of purpose and possibility. He took his first step forward, his shoes scuffing against the uneven pavement, and let his eyes wander, taking in the sights without hurry.
For the first time in a while, he allowed himself a flicker of excitement. This wasn't just a new chapter—it was a fresh start.
"Yo, Ili!" Daiki's voice rang out, loud and clear. He waved a hand with exaggerated enthusiasm, his usual flair for dramatics on full display. "Don't even think about backing out of the fitness challenge, man!"
"Yeah!" Haru chimed in, leaning back with a lazy grin. "You promised you'd carry us to victory. No pressure, though."
Ili chuckled, shaking his head as he raised a hand in acknowledgment. "Not a chance!" he called back, feigning confidence. "I've been training my whole life for this."
Daiki smirked, tapping his chin as though deep in thought. "Wait, didn't you skip gym last week because you said you 'needed to connect with your inner peace'?"
"It was a rest day," Ili countered, hands on his hips. "Strategic recovery is part of the process. Maybe you should try it."
"Strategic laziness, more like," Haru quipped, earning a round of laughter.
The banter faded into the background as Ili's attention was caught by a figure sitting on a bench near the campus park. Her hair caught the sunlight, shimmering like spun gold as she flipped through a thick textbook. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fall away.
His heart quickened, an inexplicable sense of familiarity washing over him. "Do I… know her?" he murmured under his breath, the words escaping without thought. The feeling of déjà vu stirred, like an old, forgotten melody trying to play in his mind.
"Nah, probably just another student," he muttered, shaking his head as if to dispel the thought. But the sensation lingered, quiet and unshakable, gnawing at the edges of his memory.
Daiki nudged him, his voice snapping Ili back to reality. "What're you staring at? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Or fallen in love at first sight," Haru added with a mischievous grin. "Don't tell me our boy Ili has a secret crush already."
"It's not like that," Ili protested, heat rising to his cheeks. "I just… thought I recognized her."
Daiki leaned in, squinting dramatically at the girl. "Well, I hate to break it to you, Romeo, but she's way out of your league."
"She hasn't even looked at me," Ili shot back, exasperated. "What are you basing that on?"
"Pure instinct," Daiki declared, nodding sagely. "Years of observational expertise."
Haru chuckled, patting Ili on the shoulder. "Don't listen to him. You've got a solid seventy percent chance if you, you know, actually talk to her."
"Seventy percent?" Ili raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-annoyed. "Where are you pulling these numbers from?"
"Optimism," Haru replied smoothly, gesturing toward the bench. "So? Are you going to go for it, or are we just going to stand here analyzing the poor girl?"
Ili hesitated, his gaze drifting back to her. She turned a page, her fingers moving with a grace that made his chest tighten inexplicably. There was something about her that felt familiar, like a name on the tip of his tongue that he couldn't quite recall.
Before he could respond, Daiki threw an arm around his shoulders. "Don't worry, man. If you strike out, we'll still let you sit with us at lunch. No hard feelings."
"Gee, thanks," Ili muttered, rolling his eyes. But as they walked away, laughter trailing behind them, the girl remained in his thoughts. Her presence tugged at something deep inside him, a quiet ache that refused to be ignored.
"Who are you?" he whispered to himself, glancing back one last time. She didn't look up, her focus firmly on the pages before her. Yet the feeling lingered, a thread of curiosity and longing tying him to a memory he couldn't quite grasp.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur, Ili settled and sat near the back of the large lecture hall his gaze drifting between the professor's animated discussion of economic theories and the sun-dappled trees outside the window. The campus pathways, lined with golden leaves, looked far more inviting than the endless supply-and-demand curves on the whiteboard.
He rubbed his temples, trying to focus, but his thoughts wandered back to that moment at the mall—the girl's cryptic words echoing in his head. Welcome back, Ili.
The room buzzed with low whispers, students shifting in their seats and flipping through their notes. A classmate leaned over, nudging Ili out of his reverie. "Hey, Ili, did you catch that last part about macroeconomics? Something about elasticity?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, uh… supply and demand stuff," Ili mumbled, scrambling to make sense of his half-written notes. "We can go over it later if you want."
"Thanks, man." The classmate gave him a grateful nod before returning to his notebook. Ili stared at his own notes but couldn't make sense of them. Instead, his mind kept circling back to the girl—the way her expression had shifted as if she knew him but didn't want to admit it.
Wednesday Lunch Chaos
The cafeteria was alive with noise and energy, the aroma of ramen and bento boxes mingling with the sound of clattering trays and boisterous chatter. Ili sat with his usual group of friends by the wide windows, where the sunlight poured in, illuminating their chaotic table littered with half-eaten lunches and open textbooks.
Daiki, ever the loudest of the group, smacked Ili on the back with enough force to send him jolting forward. "Yo, Ili! You've been zoning out all week. What's going on, man? Don't tell me you're actually paying attention in class."
Ili straightened his tray and gave Daiki a half-hearted smirk. "Just… distracted, I guess."
Kaito, the self-proclaimed romantic among them, leaned in with a wolfish grin. "Oho, distracted, huh? By what—or should I say, by who?"
Ryo, furiously scribbling the last few answers for an assignment due in an hour, glanced up and snorted. "If it's a girl, Ili, just do us all a favor and talk to her already. You're creeping everyone out with your brooding stares."
"I'm not brooding!" Ili protested, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "It's not like that. It's just…" He hesitated, his gaze dropping to his tray. "There's this girl I saw. She seemed… familiar. I can't explain it, but it's like I should know her."
Kaito practically vibrated with excitement. "A familiar stranger? This is textbook romance! Did she say anything? Did she confess her undying love and then vanish mysteriously into the crowd?"
Ili groaned, the corners of his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. "No. She said something weird, though. Like she knew me. But when I asked, she denied it."
Daiki leaned back, arms crossed. "Sounds like a setup for a rom-com. Let me guess, she'll pop up next week and spill her tragic backstory while you dramatically offer her your jacket in the rain."
"You're all idiots," Ili muttered, though his tone was more amused than annoyed. Still, he couldn't shake the weight of the girl's words—or the magnetic pull he felt toward her, like a thread tugging at something deep inside him.
As the boys launched into a debate about the upcoming campus sports festival, Ili found his thoughts drifting again. His eyes wandered to the cafeteria's entrance, and then, as if fate had heard their conversation, she walked in.
Her presence was unassuming yet striking, her steps purposeful as she crossed the crowded space. She wasn't holding a tray or looking for a seat—just passing through, her bag slung over one shoulder and her hair catching the sunlight like molten gold. Ili felt his heart quicken, a mix of anticipation and confusion tightening in his chest.
"Hey, Ili," Daiki said, snapping his fingers in front of Ili's face. "Earth to brooding protagonist. What's got your attention now?"
Ili blinked, heat creeping up his neck. "Nothing," he lied, glancing away too quickly.
Haru followed Ili's gaze and grinned knowingly. "Ah, I see. It's her, isn't it? The mysterious girl! Should we go talk to her for you? Break the ice?"
"No!" Ili's response came a little too loud and a little too fast. "Just… leave it."
"Leave it?!" Daiki exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "This is your moment, man. What if she's your soulmate and you're missing your one chance to make history?"
"I'll pass on the history lesson," Ili shot back, earning a round of laughter from the table. But as the conversation shifted to other topics, his thoughts remained anchored to the girl. She'd disappeared as quickly as she'd appeared, leaving him with more questions than answers.
That evening, as Ili walked back home, the autumn air felt sharper, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the campus paths. He fiddled with his phone, debating whether to distract himself with music or let his thoughts spiral. Every time he tried to shake the image of her, she seemed to resurface, her voice echoing in his mind. Welcome back, Ili.
But what did it mean? Why did she seem so familiar, yet so distant? And why couldn't he let it go? And what is it with this Wisteria pendant. This is all too much for me.
The day before, while leaving the library, he'd caught sight of her again—seated on a bench under the large oak tree by the park. Her head was bowed slightly, her attention seemingly absorbed in her notebook. Yet, as he lingered a moment too long, trying to summon the courage to approach, she shifted. For a fleeting second, her eyes lifted, meeting his across the distance.
It wasn't an accident.
Her gaze was steady but unreadable, her expression neutral as if deciding whether to acknowledge him. Then, just as quickly as their eyes met, she looked away, returning to her notebook without any indication that she'd noticed him.
The moment had left Ili frozen, his heart hammering in his chest. Was it his imagination? Or had she truly seen him? If she had, why hadn't she said anything?
As he replayed the moment in his mind, something about her glance gnawed at him. It hadn't been startled or accidental; it had felt Intentional, as though she was measuring him from a distance. And yet, she'd left no trace of recognition, no hint of the familiarity he was certain they shared.