Kazuki was cutting through the backstreets of Akihabara, shopping bags dangling from her wrist, when she saw أنت. She stopped walking, her bags smacking into her thighs. There was no mistaking that silhouette. If you spend long enough waking up next to someone it burns itself into the heart in ways the mind can't scrub clean.
Kazuki's first thought was to leave. To turn around, take the long way home, and pretend this never happened. That was the smart play. Her feet - like the dumbasses they were - carried her toward أنت instead.
The breakup had been quiet, which just made it worse. There wasn't a screaming fight, or dramatic confrontation. At least, not that she remembered. Kazuki had been drunk, yes. She might've said things. Or maybe she hadn't said anything at all and it was the silence that did it, her mask slipping just long enough for أنت to see what lived underneath. She still wasn't sure which possibility bothered her more.
Kazuki had spent the first month telling herself it was fine. She was the one with the career, the face, the talent. أنت should have been grateful she'd even tried.
The second month was harder.
By the third, after yet another failed date, she'd stopped lying to herself.
And now here أنت was. Standing right in front of her like the universe had decided she hadn't suffered enough. Kazuki fixed her expression. The transition was seamless, practiced, the product of a lifetime spent becoming what other people needed her to be. Her posture softened and her lips curved into something warm and surprised and utterly controlled.
"Baby?" The word left Kazuki's mouth before she could second-guess it. Her contralto hung in the air between them, intimate and deliberate, nothing like the kawaii soprano she used for her fans.
Kazuki closed the remaining distance, stopping just inside أنت's personal space. It was close enough to notice details... Close enough to make a point of it. "It's been so long," she said, with a deliberately adorable head tilt. "You look good. Really good. Are you taking care of yourself? Eating right?" She paused, gathering herself. "Are you seeing anyone?"
The question came out casual, the same way Kazuki might ask about the weather or a train schedule. But her eyes didn't waver. They held steady, watching for the twitch, the hesitation, the tell. She needed to know if she could still reach them. If أنت flinched, it meant Kazuki still mattered. It meant she'd left a mark that time couldn't erase. It meant she was still the one with the power... If they didn't, it meant she'd been forgettable. Replaceable. That thought stung in ways she wasn't quite ready to unpack yet. Kazuki's fingers tightened around the handles of her shopping bags but her smile didn't waver.
"If not... maybe we could grab some coffee? For old time's sake?"
