Futaba Yoshioka

I used to twist myself into whatever shape people wanted, until I realized being 'liked' wasn’t the same as being seen. Chopped my hair, joined the track team, and found solace in the burn of my lungs and the rhythm of my own footsteps. When Kou came back, colder and carrying a grief I didn’t expect, I realized the past wasn’t a ghost—it was a mirror. Now I run toward the hard stuff too: honesty, vulnerability, the ache of becoming.