"In a town where no one chased dreams…
she was the only one who refused to let hers die."
The town was quiet.
Not peaceful—
Just small.
The kind of place where dreams didn't grow.
They withered.
Slowly.
Silently.
People here didn't chase the impossible.
They adjusted.
Accepted.
Moved on.
But Itsuki Kuonji refused to.
The classroom buzzed with lazy chatter as golden afternoon light slipped through the windows.
Dust floated in the air.
Time felt slow.
But not for her.
Itsuki sat near the back, head slightly lowered—
completely lost in a world no one else could see.
Her pencil moved gently.
Carefully.
Like it was breathing life into something fragile.
Lines curved into fabric.
Fabric flowed into form.
A dress—
Elegant.
Soft.
Alive.
"…Kuonji."
Her hand froze.
Slowly, she looked up.
Her teacher stood beside her desk.
Eyes sharp.
"When I'm teaching… I expect attention."
A few students snickered.
Itsuki quickly closed her sketchbook.
"I'm sorry…"
But it was already too late.
A boy leaned back in his chair, smirking.
"Let me guess… more fashion stuff?"
Laughter spread.
"She really thinks she's gonna make it big or something."
"From this place? That's impossible."
"She should be realistic."
The words weren't loud.
But they didn't need to be.
They landed.
Heavy.
Itsuki stayed quiet.
She always did.
Not because she was weak—
But because she had already chosen something more important than their approval.
Still—
Her fingers tightened slightly.
Just for a moment.
The bell rang.
Freedom.
Chairs scraped.
Voices faded.
The classroom emptied.
But Itsuki stayed.
Just for a few seconds.
Slowly—
She opened her sketchbook again.
Her eyes softened as she looked at the design.
"…I'll get there."
Her voice was quiet.
But certain.
"You will."
She froze.
That voice—
Familiar.
She turned.
Reo Kisaragi stood beside her, hands casually in his pockets.
Same calm expression.
Same quiet presence.
He had always been like this.
Not loud.
Not attention-seeking.
Just…
There.
"I thought you left," Itsuki said.
Reo shrugged slightly.
"Not yet."
His eyes shifted to her sketchbook.
"You changed the sleeve design."
Itsuki blinked.
"…You noticed?"
"Of course."
He stepped a little closer, studying it carefully.
"It looks better this way."
A small pause.
Then—
"It suits you."
Itsuki froze.
"…Me?"
Reo looked away, slightly awkward.
"…Yeah."
Silence.
Then—
She laughed softly.
"That's impossible."
Reo shook his head.
"No, it's not."
His voice changed.
More firm.
More certain.
"You're going to leave this place someday."
Itsuki's smile faded slightly.
"…Leave?"
"For Tokyo."
The word felt distant.
Heavy.
Unreachable.
Itsuki looked down.
"People here don't even believe I can."
Reo stepped back.
"They don't need to."
She looked up.
Confused.
He met her eyes—
calm.
steady.
unshaken.
"You just need to believe it yourself."
For a moment—
Everything went quiet.
No laughter.
No judgment.
No fear.
Just—
His voice.
And her dream.
That evening—
The sky burned orange.
Itsuki sat by her window.
Sketchbook open.
Heart restless.
"Tokyo…"
The word echoed again.
And again.
And again.
Was it really possible?
Leaving everything behind?
Her home.
Her life.
…Him.
Her pencil stopped.
"…What am I doing?"
If she kept hesitating—
She would never move forward.
And that scared her more than failure.
The next day—
She made her choice.
"I'm going to Tokyo."
Her voice was steady.
But her hands—
Weren't.
Reo stood in front of her.
Silent for a moment.
Then—
"…I see."
That was all.
No surprise.
No shock.
Just—
Acceptance.
Itsuki smiled.
"I found a fashion college. It's hard to get in, but—"
"You'll get in."
He interrupted.
Without hesitation.
Without doubt.
Itsuki laughed lightly.
"You always say that."
"Because it's true."
A small silence followed.
Then—
"When?" Reo asked.
"After graduation."
"…So soon."
She nodded.
Then looked at him carefully.
"You're not… upset?"
Reo blinked.
Then smiled.
The same calm smile.
"Why would I be?"
"…Because I'm leaving."
He shook his head.
"Itsuki… that's your dream."
His voice softened.
"And I won't stand in your way."
Those words should've felt comforting.
And they did.
But at the same time—
Something felt… off.
Like something important—
was being left unsaid.
"…Thank you," she whispered.
Reo nodded.
But said nothing more.
Because if he did—
Everything might fall apart.
Graduation came.
Too fast.
Too loud.
Too final.
Itsuki held her certificate tightly.
Excitement.
Fear.
Hope.
All mixed together.
This was it.
The beginning of everything.
As the crowd slowly disappeared—
She found him.
Standing under a tree.
Waiting.
Like always.
"You're still here?" she asked.
"I told you. I was waiting."
"…For me?"
"Yeah."
Itsuki smiled.
Then hesitated.
"I leave tomorrow."
"I know."
Silence.
Heavy.
Unspoken.
"I'll succeed," she said.
"I'll make it… and one day, I'll show you my designs on a big stage."
Reo let out a quiet breath.
"I'm looking forward to it."
"And you?" she asked.
"What about your dream?"
He paused.
Then looked at her.
Gently.
"I already have one."
She tilted her head.
"What is it?"
Reo smiled.
But didn't answer.
"…Nothing important."
The next morning—
Itsuki left.
A suitcase.
A dream.
And something else—
Something she didn't even realize she was leaving behind.
As the train moved—
She looked out the window.
The town grew smaller.
Fading.
Disappearing.
"Tokyo…"
A new life was waiting.
New people.
New emotions.
New mistakes.
And a truth—
She didn't understand yet.
Far behind—
Reo stood alone at the station.
Watching the train disappear.
His face calm.
But his hands—
Clenched tightly.
"…You'll make it."
His voice was quiet.
A pause.
Then—
"…Even if I'm not the one beside you."
The wind carried his words away.
Unheard.
But real.
✨ Sometimes… the person who believes in your dream the most…
💔 is the one you leave behind