A prologue that moves harder than most full series. The romance isn't backdrop or subplot, it's the entire point, and the show trusts you to feel it before you understand it. This is what happens when a studio decides a single episode matters as much as a season, when every frame is built to break something open inside you that you didn't know was sealed. You'll recognize yourself in someone else's memory. That's the whole thing.
A girl wakes in a hospital room with no memory of how she arrived. Yuuko carries fragments of her past like scattered puzzle pieces: a name, a face, a feeling of loss she cannot quite grasp. When a young man named Hiro appears at her bedside, he claims to know her, to share her burden of forgotten moments. Their connection feels real yet impossible, suspended between what was and what might be. As Yuuko pieces together glimpses of her story, the truth behind her amnesia unfolds in layers. Hiro's presence draws out buried emotions, and she begins to wonder whether recovering her memories means losing something precious in the present. The prologue sets the stage for a narrative built on fragments: incomplete recollections, fractured relationships, and the question of whether some things are better left forgotten. This opening establishes the emotional core of a story where love and mystery intertwine, where characters are defined not by what they remember, but by what they choose to hold onto.