The meeting spot was a quiet café near Shibuya, tucked away between a bookstore and a flower shop. Reiji arrived early, more out of habit than interest. He hated being late, even to a joke appointment like this.
He checked the time. One minute left.
Then she walked in.
Miko Ayanami.
Bright eyes, soft features, her black hair tied in a simple ponytail. She wore a casual spring dress, pale yellow, with a tiny sakura clip in her hair. But what struck him wasn't her looks.
It was her smile.
It wasn't forced. It wasn't polite. It was real.
"Hi! You must be Reiji," she said warmly, sliding into the seat across from him. "Thanks for booking me."
He nodded stiffly. "This is your job, right?"
"Yep," she said, no shame, no hesitation. "But that doesn't mean I'm faking this moment. I want you to enjoy yourself. Otherwise, what's the point?"
He didn't know what to say to that.
As the conversation flowed, something shifted. She asked about his hobbies—not for data, but with genuine interest. She laughed at his deadpan sarcasm. She noticed when he flinched at loud noises. And when he told her he didn't really feel anything anymore, she didn't flinch.
"Maybe you've been in survival mode so long," she said quietly, "you forgot what it feels like to be safe."
Reiji looked at her, really looked, for the first time.
He didn't understand what was happening. But for the first time in years, he didn't want to leave.