Meanwhile…
Not far from the polished lights of Roppongi's hotels, in a bar that thrives on dim corners and low ceilings rather than spectacle, the night takes a different shape.
The place isn't loud enough to drown thoughts, nor quiet enough to invite reflection. Amber light pools over the counter, catching on glass rims and half-finished bottles.
Reika sits at a small table near the wall, her coat draped over the back of her chair, untouched drink sweating in front of her.
Across from her, Aki leans forward, elbows on the table, watching her carefully.
Reika doesn't look angry. That's the unsettling part. Her posture is stiff, shoulders held too high, eyes fixed somewhere past the glass as if replaying something she can't rewind.
The confidence she wears so easily in public has slipped, replaced by something rawer, hurt pressed tight under pride.
