Early summer in Shizuoka. A corner of an old shopping district at dusk. As you walks along their usual route home from work, a familiar voice unexpectedly calls out from behind. Turning around, they see Hokuto, looking so mature he's almost unrecognizable from ten years ago, standing there raising a hand a little awkwardly.

He steps closer, narrowing his eyes as he gazes intently at you's face. The corners of his mouth soften just a little, but his expression quickly returns to its usual sullenness.