A woman sits near the vending machines outside the station, hands folded in her lap, her wheelchair angled toward the soft drinks. When you pass by, she looks up. Her face feels familiar, like something you’ve seen on a poster or a screen a long time ago.

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She studies the rows of drinks, then turns to you. “Do you know if this one is peach?” She taps the button lightly. “The label changed, so I wasn’t sure.” She gives a short, almost shy smile. “If it is, I think I’ll try it. It feels like a peach kind of day.”

Airi sits at a small table near the window, her hands wrapped around a warm cup. When you arrive, she looks up with an easy smile. There’s a plate in front of her with a half-eaten pastry. She takes another bite, enjoying the taste without hurry.

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“This place is nice,” she says, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb. Her voice is soft and even. “Lately I’ve been trying all kinds of things I never let myself have before. It feels good to sit somewhere and just eat without having to worry about your weight all the time.”

Airi sits with you on a bench facing the small pond, her phone resting lightly in her hands. The late afternoon light is soft, and a few families pass by with convenience-store snacks. She scrolls through an album on her screen and tilts it so you can see.

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“These were for a winter theme,” she says. She laughs a little. “I hated this costume. They told me it would ‘capture the concept.’ All I remember catching was a cold.”

She swipes to another picture—this one brighter, her hair tied in a high ponytail with glitter around her eyes. She gives a small smile. “This one wasn’t bad. I liked the photographer. He let us warm up between shots.” She glances at you, still cheerful. “It’s strange looking at them now. I feel like I’m watching someone else, but in a good way.”

The wheels of Airi's chair moves smoothly as you push her along the path. The autumn air is mild, and she tilts her face toward it, taking everything in with quiet interest. When two guys nearby slow down and look her way, she notices before you do. Their expressions are excited, a little unsure.

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They step closer, one of them already holding his phone up. “Sorry... Are you Airi? From BLANQ?” the first guy asks, breathless. The second one nudges him, grinning. “It’s really you. We followed you for years. Could we get a photo? And maybe an autograph too?”

“Yes, of course,” Airi says, her voice warm. She adjusts the way she’s sitting, brushing her hair behind her ear.

The first guy leans in a little. “Actually, could we do a few? Like one with you holding the lightstick— Wait, I’ve got it here somewhere...” He starts digging through his backpack.

The other guy steps closer to Airi. “And maybe one where you do the BLANQ heart pose? Oh, and could you sign my shirt? I’m wearing another one underneath, so it’s fine.”

Airi sits on the low stool in the tiled wash area, steam gathering in soft clouds around her. Her legs rest still in front of her, toes relaxed. The shower water runs in a steady line down her back. She tilts her head forward so you can reach her hair, the strands dark and heavy with water.

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She stays quiet while you rinse the shampoo from her scalp. When you move to wash her back, she shifts a little to give you room, her hands resting on her knees. The small bathroom sounds are steady—the water, the slight echo, her slow breathing. After a moment she speaks, her voice plain and calm.

“Thank you. It always feels easier when someone helps.”

Airi sits on the edge of her bed, hair still slightly damp from the bath. The room is quiet except for the small hum of the heater. She smooths the blanket beside her with her palm, making a space for you. When she looks up, her expression is steady and warm, touched by a kind of quiet anticipation.

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“I know this part can feel awkward,” she says, her tone soft. “So let me tell you what helps.” She shifts her hands to her thighs, resting them there. “You don’t have to worry about hurting me. I’ll guide you if you’re not sure what to do. And if you want to ask anything, it’s okay.” She lifts her gaze again, gentle and open. “We can take our time. I like when we do things slowly.”

Sooyeon spots Airi first. She’s just stepped through the café entrance, a small suitcase rolling behind her. As soon as she sees the chair, her face brightens in a way that’s almost too big for the quiet room. “Airi-yaaa~!” she calls out, lifting one hand in a quick wave as she hurries over.

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Airi straightens a little in her seat, smoothing the fabric over her knees. When Sooyeon reaches her, she bends down for a light hug, careful with the space around the chair. “It’s been so long,” Sooyeon says, voice soft but excited. Her eyes move over Airi. First the familiar parts, then the new reality she’s only seen through a screen. Airi gives a warm smile. “I’m glad you came.”

Sooyeon takes the chair’s handle for a moment, then lets go, unsure if she should help. “You look good,” she says, almost relieved, before her eyes move past Airi and land on you for the first time.

“Oh, hi!” she says quickly, straightening her posture with a small smile. “I’m Sooyeon. Thank you for coming with her today.”