Before Jiko could even manage a "See ya," or even a simple nod, she’d already turned and disappeared into the throng of students, her bright backpack bobbing through the crowd like a bea. He was left standing there, slightly bewildered, the echo of her "Bye!" hanging in the air. He rubbed his eye, a small frown creasing his forehead.

  The day, Julie approaches Jik lunch, her steps slow and deliberate, almost hesitant. She smiles at him shyly, and as she sits across from him, there’s a warmth in her expression that feels different from before—more personal, more familiar. Jiko gnces up, caught off guard, unsure why she’s seeking him out today.

  “Hey,” Julie says softly, her voice ge clear. She fidgets slightly before pg a small bento box oable in front of him. “I just… wao thank you again for yesterday. You really saved me.”

  Jiko’s eyes linger on the bento box, surprised. It’s simple, ed carefully in cloth with subtle patterns, but the gesture feels weighty—unlike anything he’s entered before. He doesn’t expect this level of gratitude from someone like Julie, someone who, in the inal timeline, would’ve been solely his brother’s acquaintance.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Jiko says quickly, though a part of him is touched by the thought. He’s used to being on the sidelines, watg things unfold. This—being directly in Julie’s orbit—feels unfamiliar.

  Julie tilts her head, her expression softening. “I wao. You helped me yesterday, and I wao show my thanks. It’s homemade.”

  Jiko hesitates, reag out to take the box, his fingers brushing against hers. The tact sends an odd, unfamiliar jolt through him—a feeling that lingers lohan it should. It’s subtle, but unmistakable. This isn’t something he’s used to—being the ter of someone’s attention in the past, being the one who receives kindness from Julie

  “Thanks,” Jiko mutters, feeling slightly off bance. He doesn’t know how to respond to this attention—Julie’s easy warmth, the way she looks at him with genuine gratitude. It’s disorienting, and for a moment, he’s unsure whether he should be feeling this at all.

  Julie smiles, her eyes sparkling. “I really mean it,” she says softly. “You didn’t have to help me yesterday, but you did. And it… it meant a lot.”

  Jiko frowns slightly, unfortable under her gaze. He knows that look—she’s given it before, the same look she’s given to Tito tless times. That quiet, lingering expression of thanks mixed with something more, something deeper—something that hints at e. And it’s strao see it aimed at him now.

  His mind races, memories of the timeline fshing before him. In the inal story, this moment—this iion—was meant for his brother. It was meant to be Tito who she first reached out to, who she first thanked with a bento, who she looked at with such softness. Not Jiko.

  But here they are, and the reality is different.

  Jiko shifts unfortably, his usual posure slipping slightly. “It was just… something anyone would’ve done,” he says, trying to keep things light, to brush it off. He knows he should keep things casual, but there’s something about Julie’s gaze, the way she holds his attention, that feels heavier than it should.

  Julie leaned in a little, her face serious but still gentle. "Holy," she said softly, "I don't think anyone else would have done what you did yesterday. I mean, everyone just stood there watg while I was being chased, not a single persoried to help. It's not like they were scared of the dog or anything, it's just... they didn't even think to be kind. But you? You didn't eveate. That's... well, that's really something."

  Her words sink in, eaore deliberate tha. Jiko feels the weight of them—there’s something in the way she speaks that feels personal, as though she’s drawing him closer, but in a way that doesn’t feel right. It shouldn’t feel like this. It shouldn’t be happeniweehis quiet moment of e, this exge of gratitude.

  Jiko’s gaze lingered on the bento box Julie offered. It was a miniature work of art, a vibrant tapestry of ly arranged onigiri, glistening tempura, and perfectly rolled tamagoyaki – a stark trast to his usual rushed, haphazard breakfast of toast or whatever he could grab on the go. “Actually,” he began, a slight hesitation c his voice, “I’m on a diet. Trying to avoid rich food as much as possible.” He hoped he didn’t e across as ungrateful, especially after she’d clearly goo the effort.

  Julie’s face immediately fell, her bright smile dimming like a lightbulb being switched off. Her lower lip even trembled slightly, a subtle but noticeable sign of disappoi. This small, almost childlike rea struck Jiko with ued force. *That face…* he thought, a strange, unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest. *It’s not fair. Girls don’t just make that face at just any guy.* It was a look of genuine, i disappoi, and it tugged at something inside him, making him feel oddly… guilty.

  He sighed, his resolve weakening. “But,” he tinued, f a casual tone he didn’t quite feel, “sinade this as a token of thanks… then I’ll accept it. Thanks.” He reached out and carefully took the bento box from her outstretched hands, avoiding eye tact. He didn’t wao see the effect her rea had on him.

  Julie’s fastantly lit up again, the brief cloud of disappoi vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. The transformation was so plete, so immediate, that Jiko quickly looked away, a faint blush creeping up his neck. *That smile is unfair too,* he thought, feeling his heart do an unwele little flip-flop. It was a dazzling, genuine smile that made the world seem a little brighter.

  He opehe bento box and took a tentative bite of a crispy chi karaage. His eyes widened in surprise. The fvors exploded on his tongue – savory, sweet, and perfectly banced. It was clear she’d put a lot of care into making it. “Umm,” he mumbled, his mouth full, “this is… really tasty. Why haven’t you ever let me try your cooking before?” The question just slipped out, a careless remark that held a meaning Julie couldn’t possibly grasp. She didn’t know he’d traveled ba time.

  Julie giggled, a light, melodic sound that made Jiko’s heart skip another beat. “Then I’ll make lunch for you more often,” she offered, her eyes sparkling with pyful enthusiasm.