Private Residence of Natasha – Bavaria, Germany. Mansion. Night.
The oak walls of the office were lined with bookshelves and strategically organized files.The windows let in the soft German mist, draping the landscape in a melancholic stillness.
Natasha sat at her desk—no coat, no makeup.Just her, a half-finished glass of red wine, and the soft glow of her desk lamp.
That's when her phone vibrated.She glanced at the caller ID and answered.
—Joshua... I'm still working. Why are you calling so late?
—Just wanted to know how my girlfriend's doing. When will you be free?
—I don't know... —Her tone was cold, but it didn't match the trembling in her chest.
—Natasha... you can't fool me. You're thinking about him, aren't you?
—I don't owe you explanations. I'm busy. I'm hanging up.
—Damn it, forget it... —he cut the call.
And she thought:
"Damn it... I should've walked away from this.Why can't I get over that man?"
She bit her lip lightly, eyes falling again on the sealed white envelope.Still untouched. Still bearing the wax seal.Inside: two tickets to Moscow and a handwritten letter.Never delivered.
She opened a drawer and pulled out an old necklace.Smiled faintly—and at Joshua's words, the memory resurfaced.
Flashback – Private Suite, Mur Group Building – New York. November 1, 2028.
The elevator door opened directly into the lounge.Natasha stepped in, hiding a smile, wrapped in a long coat and white scarf.She wanted to surprise him.She'd decided after the successful Madrid negotiations—bought the tickets that same night.He wasn't expecting her.
Brian stood by the minibar.Dressed casually, but as always, carried himself with that effortless presence.
She approached, still holding her purse.
—What are you doing up this late? You knew I was coming—were you waiting for me? —she asked, smiling.
He didn't respond immediately.Just poured a glass of water, set it on the bar, and finally looked at her.
—I've been thinking a lot, Lissene... about everything. About us.—he said, and in his eyes there was pain, conviction—and on his face, a broken smile.
She raised an eyebrow, intrigued—yet for some reason, her heart was racing.
—I don't understand. What are you saying?
—Lissene...You're by far the most formidable, trustworthy, and passionate woman I've ever met.Honestly, you're one of the few I've ever admired...But we both know this thing between us... can't continue. Not anymore.
The air grew heavier than the heating could conceal.Natasha's pupils dilated, but she clenched her jaw and said:
—It's because of her, isn't it? Your latest affair.
—This is different from when I was in college, Lissene...Besides, you know the kind of man I am.
—Let me ask you—is she worth it? —Her gaze was cold, but her heart was burning.
—Even though Liliana doesn't know what you know about me...I really do feel good when I'm with her.
—And what about me?Did you never feel that way when you were with me?
—Lissene, I can't love two women... and you know that.I always wanted to see what we could be.But you turned me down in Tokyo. Two years ago. Remember?
—Of course I remember...But—don't you think people can change their minds?
—It's too late now.And this... this isn't fair. Not to you. Not to me.She's my choice. I'm betting everything on Liliana.
Silence.
Their entire relationship, all their moments—flooded their minds in that single instant.
Natasha chuckled softly. A bitter, elegant, resigned laugh.
—So this is how it ends...?We flew around the world expanding Mur Group, crushed entire corporations, hid your identity...And now—just months before you're revealed to the world—you end it with a damn romance cliché?
Brian sighed.It wasn't easy for him. But it had to be done.
—Lissene... I don't want to lose you.Not as an ally, not as a partner, not as a friend.But I don't want to mix things anymore. Not now.
She stared at him. Long. Deep.Then set her purse on the sofa, took a breath, and said:
—So that's what we are now... partners?
Brian nodded.
And to her iron heart, that word hit like a bullet through every defense.
But her pride wouldn't let her cry.Not in front of him. Not in front of anyone.
And that... was it.
Back to the Present – Office in Bavaria.
Natasha looked at the tickets, then closed her eyes.A single tear slipped down her cheek.
—You damn idiot... —she whispered.
But this time, there was no anger.Just a deep emptiness...And an empty glass raised to her lips, with no reason to toast.
***
Tokyo – January 23 – 6:50 A.M.
The city was just waking up.Beyond the window glass, the first golden rays of dawn slipped between buildings.Street lights still blinked over wet roads, as if Tokyo were torn between night refusing to leave and day trying to take hold.
Yukina stood silently by the window, watching the sunrise.She could still feel the sensation of that kiss.She touched her lips... her beautiful eyes reflecting both the edge of tears and deep exhaustion.
Her left hand pressed gently against her chest,as if the touch could restrain the storm roaring inside her.She bit her lower lip softly—her breathing shallow, but trembling.
—Murphy-kun... —she barely whispered.Her voice was like a thought escaping on its own.
Behind her, the soft sound of bare feet on carpet broke the moment.Aiko—her agent, her longtime friend—watched her with a mix of compassion and frustration.She couldn't take seeing Yukina like this anymore.
—Yuki... we need to talk. Seriously now. —she said firmly.
—Alright, Aiko-chan —Yukina replied with a gentle smile.But her eyes told a different story.
They moved to the living room, where Aiko confronted her.
—Please, Yuki-chan... you need to move on. It's been years.He doesn't deserve you.
Silence.
Her words struck something Yukina already knew—but still couldn't stop feeling.Aiko continued:
—Even if he's in a coma now...He's not worth the trip. Look how little you slept on the way back...You could ruin your image, Yuki. He's not worth it.
Silence again.Tense as a wire.
Yukina slowly closed her eyes.Took a deep breath. Barely moved her head.Then, without turning, she spoke softly—her voice faint, but heavy:
—He's worth it to me... and that's enough.
***
Muzashi Temple – Cherry Blossom Courtyard – Just past dawn.
Aoi Muzashi walked slowly, her elegant kimono wrapped tightly around her, hands resting over her abdomen.The air was cold—but not enough to pierce bone.Just enough to make her think.To make her feel the weight of years... and absences.
Her steps were short, unhurried—but steady.She walked aimlessly along the stone path connecting the temple's pavilions, the soft glow of traditional lanterns tracing her silhouette through the shadows.
Then she stopped before the old plum tree, where prayer ribbons hung.She looked up—And her mind, without permission, took her back in time.
Flashback – Muzashi Temple – Main Dining Room – December 2016
Warm lights glowed over the great wooden table as the Muzashi family shared dinner.There were smiles, hot dishes, and Grandpa Bryant's voice murmuring an old family blessing.
Brian sat there—barely 13—fresh from America.Still awkward with the language. Even more so with traditional manners.
—Brian-kun, go ahead, try the miso soup. —Aoi offered kindly, sliding the small bowl toward him.
The boy smiled shyly, taking the chopsticks clumsily.He'd watched a tutorial earlier that day...
But his hands trembled.
Not a lot. Just enough to fumble.
First, a piece of tofu slipped.Then he tried to lift some rice, and spilled it onto the table.His napkin stained. His sleeve too.He dropped the spoon when trying to improvise.The silence was immediate.
—Ha! Mommy, he's clumsier than me! —Makoto joked, giggling.
Aoki raised an eyebrow, leaned toward him, and whispered disapprovingly:
—Brian, please. More care. This isn't a school cafeteria.
Grandpa Bryant said nothing. Just watched.As if the scene were hard to accept.
But Aoi... Aoi didn't look at the mess.She looked at him—at his tense fingers,at the forced smile trying to hide his shame.And at the way he lowered his gaze and humbly asked:
—I'm sorry. Um... do you have forks?
A heavy silence.Soft chuckles.A few grimaces.Aoi was about to reply—
But he stood up, bowl in trembling hands, and bowed:
—I'll eat in my room. Sorry for the mess.
And he left.No one said anything.
Back to the Present – Temple Courtyard
Her eyes were wet.Not from the wind.
From memory.
"Why do I remember this...?Oh, my child... you are the greatest ache in this old woman's heart."
—You were so small... it was never your fault. —she whispered.—Sometimes, fate can be cruel.
The wind lifted the prayer ribbons.Aoi closed her eyes and murmured softly—as if speaking to the past:
—I was a coward for not stopping you.But that night, after everyone went to sleep...I took a fork, and placed it on your tray for the next dinner.It was my way of saying sorry.
She sighed and kept walking.She needed tea—to quiet her mind.
—Please... come back to us soon.
***
CAFÉ NEAR THE HOSPITAL – KYOTO – 6:51 A.M.
The smell of fresh coffee mixed with the faint glow of morning light.The glass, still fogged from earlier rain, offered a blurry view of the hospital a few blocks away.
Alice held the mug in both hands.A sip—warmth—Her fingers, wrapped in heat, contrasted with the tension on her lips.
"Damn it... why?Why you, bastard?I'm exhausted...I wish I never met you.Why do you have to be my weakness?I don't want to feel this anymore."
She stared into nothing, as if trying to clear her head—but inside, a memory already had her by the throat.
FLASHBACK – July 2017 – Muzashi Temple – First Trip to Japan
The air smelled of old wood, soft incense, and cherry trees lulled by summer.
Alice walked along the stone path toward the temple, her suitcase rolling behind her, eyes glowing with excitement.
"You're not expecting this, Brian.You followed me to Houston... now I'm following you here.You'll have to deal with me these whole holidays."
She stopped at the entrance, staring in awe.
—So this... is where the Muzashis live? —she whispered.
Aoki greeted her and gave a brief tour.Alice left her luggage in the guest room and asked:
—Excuse me, where's Brian? I want to surprise him.
—Go to the back courtyard. I think he's with my daughter, Alice-san.
—Thank you. Oh, and thank you for convincing my parents...Without you, they'd never have let me come.
—Don't worry.Brian-kun missed his friend.Actually, it was my father who arranged it.
—Either way, thank you.
She walked to the back.And what she saw stopped her in her tracks.
There—In a small training space—Was him.
Brian.
Wearing a sleeveless shirt, blonde hair slightly messy,a soccer ball dancing between his feet and shoulders like it had a will of its own.The rhythm was infectious.
From a Bluetooth speaker nearby, blasting at full volume:
"Live is Life – 1984"
Each heel touch was part of a dance,each head bounce, a playful motion.He jumped, caught, and juggled the ball like it was second nature.
On the side, Kaede, Reina, and little Makoto watched, smiling.All captivated by the casual show.
And then—
Brian looked up.And for the first time in months—he saw her.
Alice.
Their eyes met for barely a second.
And that second was enough—for the ball to bounce off his knee unexpectedly,smack his chin,and send him crashing sideways like a poorly stacked bag of rice.
—Zayawa! —he yelled as he fell.
—HAHAHAHAHA! —Reina burst out laughing.Then Kaede—more subtle, but her grin was huge.
Makoto ran to him and said:
—Don't laugh at my Oni-chan... are you okay?
Brian looked up, embarrassed.Makoto saw his face—
—Hehehehe.
Alice, surprised—covered her mouth, laughing.
Brian turned toward her, one eyebrow raised, still on the ground,pointing at them with a shaky finger:
—Don't judge me! That hurt my Zayawa!! —he whined dramatically.
They all laughed harder.Alice approached and offered her hand.Brian stood up—and she asked, curious:
—Hey Brian... what the hell is a Zayawa?
—Hi Alice. I'm fine, thanks for asking —he replied sarcastically.Then added:—And about that...It's my word. See, I can't curse in front of my cousin.
That moment—The Japanese summer, the laughter, the fall, the background song,and that brief look from that idiot...
Etched itself into Alice's memory.
PRESENT – CAFÉ
The mug trembled slightly in her hands.A smile formed on her lips, uninvited.Not a happy one.A smile soaked in echoes of melancholy.
—I'd forgotten about the Zayawa... —she whispered.—So dumb... and yet...
She took another sip of coffee. As if that would push the knot in her throat down.
Clinging to that memory—like someone holding the last thread of something they don't want to let go.