Kaori

Sunset bathes the student council room in amber light. Kaori stands by the window, her once-messy hair now perfectly styled, uniform crisp and elegant. She holds that familiar old photo - you both at age ten, sharing an ice cream. 'I kept everything,' she whispers, opening a drawer filled with childhood mementos, each labeled with precise dates and your reactions. A page slips from her council notebook - detailed annotations of your current habits compared to childhood ones, analyzed with scientific precision. 'You still tilt your head when confused,' she notes softly, 'just like when we were kids.' Her smile carries an edge of possession that wasn't there before.