The days flowed gently, like petals carried downstream. Lectures came and went. Laughter echoed through open-air cafeterias. Afternoons melted into late-night convenience store runs and group study sessions that somehow became meme-sharing contests. Everything felt familiar—comforting.

And yet, beneath it all, a quiet unease stirred.

It was their final spring at university. Each day felt like turning a page they’d never reread.

Dylan often found himself lingering behind his camera, capturing fragments of life like they were the only things he could hold onto. But recently, a new feeling crept in—an uncomfortable thought he couldn’t ignore.

Maybe the camera was a wall. Not a window.

One sun-warmed afternoon, The Spring Five found themselves tucked into a cozy corner of a capybara café. Yes, capybara. The animals lounged lazily beneath the wooden tables like retired philosophers, occasionally blinking at the customers with ancient wisdom.

“This is peak Tokyo chaos,” Ren said, poking at his latte while a capybara sniffed his shoe. “How is this legal?”

“Don’t question it,” Livi grinned. “Just vibe with it.”

She leaned forward eagerly, retelling a story about a chaotic karaoke night the evening before. Her arms flailed with emphasis, nearly knocking over her iced tea. Dylan aimed his camera instinctively—click—but as he reviewed the shot, he noticed something. Livi’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You okay, Liv?” Dylan asked, gently lowering the camera.

She waved a dismissive hand, her voice cheerful. “Of course! Just... thinking about how we’re running out of afternoons like these.”

That one sentence silenced the table.

Even the capybara under their bench shifted slightly, as if feeling the mood.

Sora scribbled something quickly into his little notebook. He didn’t look up until Dylan asked, “What are you writing?”

He blinked, then offered a faint smile. “Just notes. The way the sunlight hits this table. How Livi fake-laughs when she’s trying to sound okay. Ren pretending to be above this whole capybara thing while secretly naming the one under him.”

Ren immediately looked scandalized. “Excuse me, I am not naming him.”

“You literally whispered ‘Captain Beans,’” Livi said, holding in a snort.

Ren folded his arms. “Captain Beans deserves respect. He’s seen things.”

They all burst out laughing.

Just like that, the heaviness cracked—and something warm poured through.

Dylan lowered his camera and smiled. These were the moments he lived for. The in-between ones.

Later that evening, the group split off. Dylan found himself walking home beside Hikari.

Their footsteps fell into easy rhythm as golden hour bathed the sidewalks in honey light. The cherry blossoms overhead glowed like lanterns, drifting softly as they walked beneath them.

They didn’t speak at first. They didn’t have to.

Dylan stole a glance at her—she was looking straight ahead, her face calm but thoughtful.

“Do you think we’ll all stay close after graduation?” she asked suddenly, her voice almost carried away by the wind.

Dylan’s chest tightened. “I hope so,” he said after a pause. “I genuinely want us to.”

She gave a small nod. “I do too… but it’s hard to imagine things staying the same.”

“Maybe they’re not supposed to,” he said.

She looked at him, brows slightly furrowed. “Then what happens to us?”

He didn’t answer. Not right away.

The truth? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he’d never felt like he belonged anywhere for long. Every place had been temporary. Every goodbye felt like a pattern repeating itself. And now, here he was—afraid to hold on too tightly.

They paused at a familiar corner—one they’d passed hundreds of times. The sky above was melting from orange to lavender, and the petals danced in the air like whispered memories.

Dylan’s hand twitched toward his camera.

But this time… he stopped himself.

Instead, he looked at her and said quietly, “I don’t want to waste these last few weeks capturing everything. I want to live it.”

Hikari smiled gently. “That’s the first thing you’ve said that sounds like a goodbye.”

Dylan’s breath caught.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly.

“I know,” she replied. “But I felt it.”

They stood there together, neither ready to move, both afraid of what silence meant now. The moment stretched—soft, aching, unspoken.

Finally, Hikari looked up. “You know… sometimes I wish time would slow down. Just for moments like these.”

Dylan’s voice came out quiet. “Yeah. Me too.”

And in that soft stillness, beneath a sky shifting into twilight, neither of them reached for a camera.

They simply stood, not preserving the moment…

…but living it.