<div class="floatleft">(http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t295/JoanieSappho/Torikai_zpsu3xl91if.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Iori Kato<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Miko High Lunch room<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Midday<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open<br/><strong>Doing:</strong>Watching Tamashi<br/><hr/><br/>It ... it<em>was</em>him.<br/>Iori had gotten glimpses of Tamashi, but now that she was sat here, in a quiet little spot on the edge of the main press of students, and she could actually see him properly, she was sure of it.<br/>The little boy who had played with her when she was little, one of the few who had stayed, and been there for her when she fell ill ... there he was. Although, she noted, unable to keep the blush of her cheeks, he had definitely grown up since then.<br/><br/>Should ... should she go over? Try to talk to him? If she was to judge by the light-headed dizziness that followed that thought, then the answer was no. Besides, she was here to get away from her old life, from what she had been. But, on the other hand, she'd always liked Tamashi. Not<em>like</em>-liked, but still ...<br/><br/>But what if he recognised her, remembered who,<em>what</em>, she had been?<br/>Not really sure what else to do, the quiet, pale little girl poked at her food, chosen more to avoid anything that would upset her stomach more than it normally was, rather than for taste, and continued to quietly watch Tamashi.