Sakura returned from her orientation trip. Seeing her walk through the school gates again felt like a wave of normalcy washing over me. She looked tired, but her eyes were bright with the recent experience.
We met after school, finding our usual quiet corner in the nearly empty clubroom. The familiarity of the space, the comforting presence of old books, was a stark contrast to the world she had just visited.
"Welcome back, Sakura," I said, smiling, relieved to see her.
"I'm back, Hiroshi-kun," she replied, her smile genuine and warm. She looked at me, her expression softening. "It feels good to be back. Even though Todai was incredible."
She told me all about it – the campus, the sessions, the students she met. Her enthusiasm was infectious. She described the libraries, the lecture halls, the sheer scale of the university. It was clear that the experience had solidified her excitement and commitment to her future there.
"It sounds amazing, Sakura," I said, meaning it.
"It was," she agreed. "But... it was also... a lot." She sighed softly. "Everyone is so... intense. So focused. It's inspiring, but also... makes you realize how much further you have to go."
We talked about the people she met – bright, driven students from all over the country. She mentioned names, brief anecdotes. I listened, trying to picture her in that environment, surrounded by her future peers. It felt distant, like listening to a story about a different country.
And then, the unspoken thing hung in the air. The thing we hadn't talked about directly during her trip, but that the trip had made more real. The distance. The different paths.
She looked at me, her smile fading slightly, replaced by a more serious expression. "Hiroshi... being there... it made the future feel very real. And... and it made me think about... about us."
My heart tightened. "Yeah," I said quietly. "Me too. It felt weird not talking all the time. And just knowing you were far away."
Sakura reached out and took my hands. "It wasn't easy for me either," she admitted softly. "Even with all the excitement... there were moments when I just... wished you were there. Wished I could share it with you directly."
Her honesty was comforting. It wasn't just me feeling the weight of the distance; she felt it too.
"What does it mean, Sakura?" I asked, voicing the question that had been in both our minds. "Todai. And... us. Can we... can we really make it work?"
Sakura squeezed my hands. Her gaze was steady and sincere. "I don't have all the answers, Hiroshi-kun," she said softly. "It won't be easy. There will be challenges. Distance is a real thing."
She paused, taking a deep breath. "But... being there... and missing you... it also made me realize how important we are. How much... I rely on you. How much... you make me feel like... just Sakura."
A small smile touched her lips. "Todai is my future. The future expected of me. But you... you are also my future, Hiroshi. The unexpected future I chose for myself."
Her words, heartfelt and full of emotion, were a powerful reassurance. She wasn't choosing between her expected future and me; she was saying I was part of her chosen future.
"I want us to make it work, Hiroshi," she continued, her voice firm. "More than anything. Whatever it takes. Whatever we need to figure out."
"Me too, Sakura," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "More than anything."
We held hands across the clubroom table, the unspoken weight of the future no longer unspoken, but acknowledged. The orientation trip had been a glimpse into a future that would bring challenges, but it had also reinforced the strength of our bond and our shared desire to face those challenges together.
The conversation didn't magically erase the distance or the difficulties, but it solidified our commitment in the face of them. Todai was real, the distance was real, but our unexpected love was real too. And as Sakura looked at me, her eyes shining with a mix of excitement for her future and love for the present we shared, I knew we would face whatever came next, together. The conversation about how to make it work would continue, but the fundamental question of if we would try had just been answered, clearly and unequivocally.