chp2

Roshi didn’t move.

Not at first.

There was something about the way he stood there—calm, patient, like he wasn’t surprised by her silence—that made her feel like she was the one who was late.

Late to what, she didn’t know.

But the feeling stayed.

We’ll take it slow.”

His words still lingered in the air.

Roshi’s fingers curled slightly at her sides.

She didn’t like that sentence.

Not because it was threatening.

But because it sounded like something had already happened.

Something she was supposed to remember.

“…What do you mean by that?”

Her voice came out steadier this time.

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he walked further into the room, each step quiet, controlled—like he knew exactly where everything was without needing to look.

That bothered her.

He stopped a few feet away.

Close enough to see clearly.

Not close enough to touch.

“You don’t remember anything?” he asked.

Roshi shook her head.

A small movement.

But it felt heavier than it should have.

“Not even this place?”

Another pause.

“…No.”

For a moment, something flickered in his expression.

It was quick.

So quick she almost missed it.

Disappointment?

No.

Something softer than that.

Something quieter.

“…I see.”

But the way he said it—

It didn’t sound like he was just understanding.

It sounded like he had expected it.

Roshi’s chest tightened again.

That feeling.

That same quiet wrongness.

---

“…Who are you?”

This time, she didn’t hesitate.

The question hung between them.

Simple.

Direct.

Important.

---

He looked at her.

Really looked at her.

Not at her face.

Not at her eyes.

But *through* her.

Like he was searching for something behind everything she was showing.

---

“…You don’t remember me either.”

It wasn’t a question.

---

Roshi swallowed.

“…Should I?”

---

Silence.

Again.

But this time—

It stretched longer.

Heavier.

Like the room itself was waiting for his answer.

---

Then, finally—

“…You used to.”

---

Her breath caught.

Just slightly.

But enough.

---

“Used to?” she repeated.

The word felt strange on her tongue.

Like it didn’t belong to her.

---

He didn’t respond right away.

Instead, he turned slightly, his gaze drifting toward the window.

Toward her reflection.

---

“You always stood there in the mornings.”

His voice was quieter now.

Not distant.

Not cold.

Just… softer.

---

Roshi’s heart skipped.

“…What?”

---

He nodded faintly toward the glass.

“Right there.”

---

Without thinking, she glanced at her reflection.

The girl in the window stared back at her.

Still.

Silent.

Unfamiliar.

---

“…You’d look outside like you were waiting for something,” he continued.

His tone was calm.

Too calm.

Like he was describing something ordinary.

---

Roshi’s fingers trembled slightly.

“…I’ve never been here before.”

---

This time, he looked back at her.

And for the first time—

There was something clear in his expression.

---

Doubt.

---

Not strong.

Not accusing.

But there.

---

“…Are you sure?”

---

Her chest tightened.

Why would he ask that?

Why would he—

---

“I would know if I’ve been here,” she said quickly.

Too quickly.

Her voice sharpened without meaning to.

---

He didn’t react.

Didn’t argue.

Didn’t correct her.

---

He just watched her.

---

And somehow—

That was worse.

---

“…What’s my name?”

The question slipped out before she could stop it.

---

He blinked.

Just once.

---

“…Roshi.”

---

The word settled into the room.

Soft.

Certain.

---

Roshi felt something twist in her chest.

Again.

That same feeling.

---

“…And you?” she asked.

---

This time—

He hesitated.

---

It was subtle.

Barely noticeable.

But it was there.

---

“…You don’t need to worry about that yet.”

---

Her brows furrowed.

“What does that mean?”

---

But he had already turned away.

---

“Get some rest,” he said.

“You’ll feel better soon.”

---

Roshi took a step forward.

“Wait—”

---

He stopped at the door.

But he didn’t turn around.

---

For a second—

Just a second—

It felt like he was going to say something else.

Something important.

---

But instead—

“…Don’t force yourself to remember.”

---

The door opened.

Light shifted.

---

And then—

He was gone.

---

Silence returned.

---

Roshi stood there, unmoving.

Her heart was beating faster now.

Not from fear.

Not exactly.

But from something else.

Something she couldn’t name.

Slowly—

She turned back to the window.

Her reflection stared at her.

Unchanged.

Unmoving.

“…Roshi.”

She said it again.

Quieter this time.

The name felt real.

But not *hers.*

Her gaze dropped slightly—

And that’s when she saw it.

On the glass.

Faint.

Almost invisible.

Words.

Her breath caught.

She stepped closer.

Slowly.

Carefully.

And there—

written like it had been traced from the other side—

was a single sentence:

**“That’s not your name.”**

Roshi froze.

The room felt colder.

Quieter.

Heavier.

Her reflection didn’t move.

But for a second—

just a second—

it felt like it was looking *back* at her.

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