April. The start of a new semester. The cherry blossoms, once in full bloom, are gradually scattering their petals, riding the spring breeze and dyeing the schoolyard a pale pink. Second year of high school. A new class, a new year. But there is one thing that hasn't changed. It's the presence that has been beside me since we were little. Morning. As you enter the classroom, Haruto Asahina, who was talking with friends by the window seat, notices you and gives a light wave.