The cherry blossoms were back.

Their delicate petals drifted lazily through the air, catching the morning sunlight like slow-falling snowflakes. Dylan stood at the edge of the campus rooftop, camera in hand, watching the petals scatter across the quad below like pieces of time too soft to hold.

Click.

He lowered the camera slowly. The viewfinder had become second nature by now—his way of making sense of fleeting things. But lately, even the photos weren’t enough.

It was their final spring semester. One more set of classes. One more round of group chats about graduation robes. One last season of inside jokes and coffee-fueled all-nighters. Everything felt… temporary. Like they were all living in a bubble about to burst.

Behind him, the rooftop door creaked open.

"Are you seriously up here again?" Livi's voice called out, feigning exasperation. “Dylan, I swear, you’re like a rooftop ghost haunting the quad.”

“I prefer ‘rooftop guardian,’” Dylan replied without turning. “Ghosts don’t use cameras.”

Livi rolled her eyes dramatically as she walked over, her blazer flapping in the wind. “You know, normal people journal their feelings or scream into pillows. You just stalk cherry blossoms.”

“They’re photogenic.”

“Sure they are.”

The door opened again. Ren entered next, dragging a folding chair behind him like a throne.

“You guys really couldn’t wait until lunch?” he said. “This better not be a therapy circle.”

“Relax, King Ren,” Livi said, dropping into a seat. “We’re just here to make fun of Dylan until he stops being poetic.”

“I’d like to see her try,” Dylan muttered, adjusting the lens again.

Ren flopped dramatically into the chair. “Dylan’s emotional again. Spring is here. Livi’s out for blood. The vibes are immaculate.”

Sora arrived a moment later with iced coffee in hand and a half-finished Sudoku puzzle tucked into his notebook.

He looked around and raised a brow. “Is this… a meeting?”

“It’s not a meeting,” Livi said.

“It’s a ritual,” Ren added.

“It’s a rooftop,” Dylan said plainly.

Then came Hikari—quiet as ever but unmistakable, her camera case swinging by her side. She paused when she saw the group, a soft smile touching her lips.

“Oh,” she said. “You’re all here.”

Livi grinned. “And now we’re complete.”

They made space without asking—Sora shifted, Ren moved his feet, and Dylan stepped aside instinctively as Hikari took her usual place beside him.

The wind picked up slightly, petals brushing against their legs and shoulders.

“You guys ever think about how weird it is?” Livi asked suddenly, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“What is?” Sora said.

“That we just… found each other. Orientation day. A Tokyo girl, three high school friends, a Korean exchange student, and a random American photographer.”

Ren stretched out his legs. “Sounds like the setup to a sitcom.”

Dylan smirked. “We just need a name.”

Livi’s eyes lit up. “Oh my gosh. YES. How have we never named our group?”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “We’re really doing this now?”

“I mean… it is our last semester,” Hikari said softly.

Sora tapped his pencil thoughtfully against his notepad. “Group names statistically increase long-term emotional memory.”

“That’s not a real stat,” Dylan said.

“Still sounds right though,” Ren replied.

Livi sat up suddenly, hands on her hips. “Okay. Hear me out: The Spring Five.”

Everyone stared at her.

“…It’s dramatic,” Ren said. “I dig it.”

Hikari nodded. “It’s… kind of beautiful.”

Sora smiled faintly. “It’s seasonal branding.”

Dylan chuckled. “Better than ‘Rooftop Regulars.’”

And just like that, it stuck.

The Spring Five.

Later that afternoon, with classes behind them, the five of them returned to the rooftop, snacks in hand and a Bluetooth speaker playing a lo-fi mix Livi swore she “curated with heart.”

Dylan sat on the edge, scanning the courtyard below with his lens. He caught Ren mid-yawn, Livi mid-rant about overpriced boba, and Sora quietly staring off into the clouds with that same peaceful look he always wore.

Then he turned and—click.

Hikari.

Smiling, the breeze lifting strands of her hair, camera slung across her shoulder, sunlight kissing her cheekbones. She turned just in time to see him lower his camera.

“You always do that,” she said gently.

“Do what?”

“Take pictures of me when I’m not looking.”

He hesitated. “Candid shots are honest.”

“And a little embarrassing,” she teased.

Dylan rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

Hikari tilted her head. “You don’t have to be. I just wonder what you see.”

He paused, then gave the faintest smile. “Moments. I see the moments.”

Her gaze lingered on him a little longer than usual before she looked away.

“Okay, everyone!” Livi announced, clapping her hands. “Serious topic: end-of-spring bucket list. We’re not graduating without at least one dramatic group activity.”

“Skydiving,” Ren said.

“No,” Sora said instantly.

“Picnic at the top of Mount Fuji?” Hikari offered.

“I like breathing, thank you,” Livi laughed. “Let’s start smaller.”

Dylan looked down at the quad again, then at the group. “What about a time capsule?”

“Oooh,” Livi said. “Yes. Sentimental and cinematic. We love that.”

“We bury it under the cherry blossom tree,” Hikari added.

“And dig it up five years from now?” Sora asked.

“Ten,” Ren corrected. “That way we forget what’s in it and get emotional.”

“It’s decided then,” Livi said. “The Spring Five Time Capsule. Coming soon to a dirt patch near you.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long golden beams over campus, Dylan took one more photo—this time of all of them together, arms draped over shoulders, mid-laugh, no one posed or polished.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was real. And maybe, just maybe, that was the point.