Read Crossing Paths :: Epilogue

A few years had passed..

The gymnasium buzzed with applause and flashes from camera phones, but Ami Mizuno was outside—away from the crowd, standing beneath a blooming cherry blossom tree.

She clutched her graduation cap in one hand and squinted up at the sky, blinking back a mix of sunlight and something that felt a little like tears.

Footsteps approached behind her.

“You’re skipping your own ceremony,” said a familiar voice.

She turned.

Ryo Urawa, slightly more polished than usual, still wore that lazy grin. No gown, no cap—just his usual school uniform, sleeves rolled up, hands in his pockets.

“I just wanted a second to breathe,” Ami said, then looked up at him. “What about you? Which university did you end up choosing?”

Ryo scratched the back of his neck. “Tokyo Art Institute. Got in with a sketch portfolio and a miracle.”

Ami smiled. “That’s across the city…”

“I know.” He kicked at a petal on the ground. “But I’ll come find you. Whenever I can. That’s a promise.”

She looked at him, heart catching slightly. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Ryo looked at her, this time more serious. “I only make one kind.”

Tokyo – One Year Later

The city moved fast, but Ami Mizuno sat still.

She waited in a cozy café tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop. The table for two by the window had been hers for twenty quiet minutes, and the coffee had long gone lukewarm.

A bell jingled above the café door.

Ami turned her head.

Ryo walked in, backpack slung over one shoulder, hoodie slightly wrinkled, expression smug and breathless.

“Kept you waiting?”

Ami smiled—soft, steady.

“Not really,” she said. “I knew you'd show.”

Ryo pulled the chair out and sat down, a little closer than necessary. He glanced around the café. “Nice spot. Very... you.”

“And you're late,” she teased.

He shrugged. “Fashionably.”

They sat there, letting the silence settle. It wasn’t awkward—it was familiar. Like slipping back into a conversation they'd only paused a moment ago.

“I brought something,” Ryo said, reaching into his bag. He pulled out a small sketchpad and slid it toward her.

She flipped through the pages.

Drawings of her—studying, laughing, glaring at him over a student council budget sheet. The last page was different.

A sketch of the café.

And two chairs filled in.

“You still sketch people you like?” Ami asked, blinking hard.

Ryo looked at her and smiled—not lazy this time, but warm. Real.

“Only one person.”

Ami closed the sketchbook.

And reached across the table.

Their fingers met in the middle.

Outside, the cherry blossoms had started blooming again.