The first snow of the season drifted gently across the courtyard of Yukimura High School. White flakes danced in the early morning air, settling lightly on coats, hair, and the tops of packed luggage. Students buzzed with quiet excitement — only the top 100 had qualified for the prestigious winter camp, and today was the departure.

Yuki stood near the edge of the crowd, scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, gloved fingers clutching the strap of his bag. He looked around, eyes scanning for a familiar face.

“Yuuuuuukiiii~!”

A voice rang out behind him, too loud, too playful for the cold silence around them.

Haru.

He appeared from behind the bus, dragging a suitcase twice his size, bundled in layers of mismatched winter clothes. He wore a huge grin as he approached, ignoring the looks from the other students.

Yuki blinked in surprise. “You… you're coming too?”

“Obviously.” Haru shrugged. “What kind of best friend would I be if I let you go on a freezing school trip without adult supervision?”

“You didn’t even make the top 100…”

“True.” Haru tugged his beanie lower over his ears. “But the library upgrade my dad donated got me a free pass. Let’s call it… heartfelt academic support.”

Yuki sighed. “You didn’t have to come just for me.”

“I didn’t come just for you.” Haru grinned, stepping closer. “But you get lonely. And mopey. And I couldn’t trust you not to sit next to your little crush and melt into a puddle of nerves.”

Yuki flushed, looking away. “I’m not that obvious.”

“You so are,” Haru said with a laugh. “You still like him, don’t you? Ren?”

Yuki’s eyes softened. “Yeah… I think I do.”

Haru tilted his head, his voice quieter now. “You know he’s not the same anymore, right? Ever since—”

“I know,” Yuki interrupted gently. “But I remember how he used to be. I can’t forget that.”

Haru looked at him for a long moment, then gave a crooked smile. “You’ve always been like this. Remembering things no one else does.”

“Because they matter to me.”

Before Haru could reply, another voice cut through the quiet.

“Wow, did you seriously get in through your dad?” a boy called out. “That’s gotta be the most Haru thing I’ve ever heard.”

Minami laughed beside him. “Hope your dad packed your pride, too.”

Haru just grinned and threw up two fingers. “Pride, snacks, and a thermos full of sarcasm. I'm ready.”

Yuki stepped back as the teasing continued. He didn’t mind it—Haru could handle himself—but a quiet part of him wondered if he was just a burden. Haru had come all this way, probably just to babysit him again. Just like always.

The sound of footsteps drew Yuki’s eyes. A tall figure walked past them without a word, bag slung over one shoulder, white earbuds in his ears.

Ren.

He didn’t look at anyone. Not even Yuki. But something about his presence made the air feel colder.

Yuki stared after him.

“You really are stuck on him, huh?” Haru said, not unkindly.

Yuki didn’t answer. His heart already had.

---

The cold bit at Yuki’s cheeks as he walked ahead of the others, his boots crunching softly over thin ice. He clutched his bag a little tighter, ignoring Haru’s voice behind him.

“Yuki, wait up!” Haru called out. “Hey—there’s space near the middle. We could sit together.”

Yuki didn’t turn around. His gaze was fixed on the open bus door ahead. This time… he wanted to try something different.

He stepped onto the bus, warm air brushing against his face. Inside, students were already claiming seats, chatting, and stuffing snacks into side pockets. But at the back, near the window, sat one person who wasn’t talking at all.

Ren.

The transfer student. Dressed in plain layers, nothing fancy. Headphones loosely around his ears. A book open in his hands. He sat with his bag placed beside him, taking up the other half of the seat. As always, untouchable.

But still—charming.

Yuki hesitated, heart thudding in his chest. Maybe it was foolish, but… maybe he could be a little braver this time.

He walked over, pausing beside the seat.

“Is anyone sitting here?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

Ren didn’t even look up. His voice came flat, cool. “No room.”

Yuki blinked. That was it?

Before he could turn away, Haru’s voice floated up from further down the aisle.

“Yuki! There’s space here—come on, I saved you a spot!”

Yuki glanced back. Haru was waving from a middle row. His tone was light, but there was something unreadable in his eyes.

Still, Yuki turned back to Ren. His voice was softer now, almost stubborn.

“Then I’ll make room.”

He lifted Ren’s bag carefully and placed it in the luggage rack above, then sat down beside him—quietly, confidently—taking the window seat.

Ren didn’t protest. He didn’t say anything at all.

He just turned a page in his book, and for a moment, Yuki wondered if he’d done something wrong. But then—just barely—Ren’s eyes slid toward him. Just a glance. A flicker.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Subtle. Almost invisible.

But Yuki saw it.

From the row ahead, Haru sat down alone. He didn’t say anything, but his gaze lingered on the two boys at the back of the bus. His expression was unreadable—quiet, thoughtful, just a touch concerned.

Why is Yuki always clinging to that transfer student? he wondered.

He’s cold. He barely talks to anyone. Sure, his grades are amazing, but... is that really enough?

Doesn’t even dress right for winter. Always acts like the world’s not worth his time.

The bus began to roll forward, the murmur of student voices fading beneath the soft drone of tires over icy roads. Snow pressed against the windows, thick and white, making it impossible to see outside.

Yuki leaned against the glass, staring at the whiteness.

Ren still hadn’t said a word.

Feeling the silence creeping in, Yuki lifted a gloved finger and drew a small bear face on the fogged window. Two ears, a round head, little eyes, and a crooked smile. Above it, he wrote: hi.

Then he turned to Ren, smiling. “Look,” he said, lightly tapping the glass. “It’s a snow bear.”

Ren didn’t move at first. Then, slowly, he looked over.

His eyes settled on the drawing.

Only for a second.

And then he said, flatly, “Only a kid would do something like that.”

Yuki blinked.

And smiled anyway.

Yuki leaned slightly to his right, peeking curiously at the book Ren was holding. It was thick, full of small text and diagrams that made no sense to him. The title was in French. Or was it German?

He blinked.

"Are you even human?" he murmured to himself, watching Ren’s eyes move swiftly across the page.

Ren didn’t respond, his earphones still in place, as if the world outside didn’t exist.

Yuki turned back to the frosted window and exhaled, watching the bear he drew slowly melt away. His eyelids grew heavy. The steady hum of the bus, the soft warmth, the unreadable boy beside him — it all lulled him slowly into a haze.

His head bumped against the window with a quiet thud.

Ren glanced sideways.

Absurd.

Without a word, he shifted slightly and guided Yuki’s head away from the glass, letting it rest gently against his own shoulder. He didn’t sigh. He didn’t smile. But he turned the page more slowly after that.

The snow thickened outside as the bus cut through the mountains, the trees white and silent.

Yuki slept on.

---

The bus pulled to a halt hours later.

Students yawned, stretched, and began to unload their things. One by one, voices filled the chilly mountain air.

Yuki blinked awake, groggy and blinking against the light. He felt the sudden rush of cold on his cheek and realized Ren had moved.

He scrambled off the bus, still clutching his bag loosely.

“So cold…” he mumbled.

A woolen scarf hit him in the chest.

“Wrap it properly,” Ren said, already walking ahead with one hand in his pocket.

Yuki fumbled with the scarf. “Thanks…”

Ren adjusted the strap of his backpack over one shoulder — the other hung loosely, his arm a little stiff.

“You sure are a heavy sleeper,” he said flatly, though not unkindly.

Yuki chuckled. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine.”

For a moment, Yuki stared at him through the falling snow. Ren’s figure was blurred around the edges, distant even while standing close.

At that time, Yuki thought, I didn’t understand this feeling. What those moments meant.

By the time I did…

He was already gone from my memory.

Several years later...

Rain clung to the windows like blurred memories as Yuki stepped out of his small silver car, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh. The engine had been making odd noises for days — low rattles and stubborn starts. He didn’t have the money to replace it, but this repair shop had decent reviews and didn’t overcharge.

He walked toward the open garage, flipping up his hood against the drizzle. The air smelled of gasoline, wet pavement, and something vaguely familiar. A mechanic was crouched beside an SUV, his back turned.

Yuki spoke first.

“Hey, uh, I have an appointment. Yuki Kisaragi. The silver hatchback over there—engine trouble, I think.”

The mechanic didn’t look up at first. Just gave a brief nod.

“I’ll take a look. Give me a minute.”

Yuki paused. Something about the voice caught him off guard — calm, quiet, low… familiar.

As the mechanic stood and turned, wiping his hands with a cloth, Yuki froze.

The world narrowed in.

Tall. Tousled dark hair. Eyes like fading winter.

Even under the stained overalls, Yuki could see it — could feel it.

That was him.

Ren.

No… he went by Ran now. The name tag on his uniform read it clearly in plain white embroidery.

Yuki’s breath caught, heart stammering into old rhythms.

Ran didn’t look surprised.

His eyes scanned Yuki with quiet recognition — like he’d seen a ghost he’d been waiting for.

For a second, neither of them said a word.

The rain fell harder. Somewhere behind them, a wrench clattered to the floor.

Yuki opened his mouth.

But he had no idea what he was supposed to say.