The night had not been kind to Hana Takahashi. Sleep refused to come, leaving her mind adrift in memories and questions that had no answers.
Ren was here. Alive. Watching.
She had seen him — not a dream, not a hallucination, but flesh and blood, standing before her like a ghost from the past.
And then he had vanished again.
By the time dawn broke, Hana could no longer bear it. She threw on her coat and left her apartment, her feet carrying her through streets still wet from last night's storm. The world felt strangely quiet, as if holding its breath for what was about to come.
She found him in the old park.
Ren Nakamura stood beneath the cherry blossom tree, its petals just beginning to fall. The morning light painted him in silver and shadow. He heard her footsteps long before she spoke, but he didn't turn until she said his name.
"Ren."
He faced her at last, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
"You shouldn't be here," he said quietly, though his voice lacked its usual cold edge.
Hana's throat tightened. "You told me to stay inside. I can't. Not anymore. I need to know why you've been watching me. Why you've been fighting in the dark while I…"
She broke off, the emotion catching in her voice.
Ren stepped closer, slow, deliberate, as though each step was a decision he might regret.
When he was close enough that she could see the faint scar beneath his jaw, he stopped.
"It was safer for you if I stayed away," he said. "Safer if you hated me, or forgot me."
"I tried," Hana whispered. Her voice was barely audible, but it was enough. "I tried to hate you, Ren. I tried to forget. But you never left me. Not once."
The words hung between them like a live wire, and before she could think, before she could stop herself, Hana reached out and touched his sleeve.
Ren did not move at first. His breath caught — the smallest sign of weakness — and then he took her hand in his.
It was a simple gesture, almost innocent, but it felt forbidden, dangerous, as though the whole world might shatter because of it.
"You shouldn't touch me," Ren said, his voice low, pained.
"Then tell me to let go."
He didn't.
Instead, his other hand rose almost on its own, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His fingertips lingered for a moment longer than they should have, tracing the line of her cheek.
Hana's heart pounded, her breath shallow, every part of her screaming to close the distance between them — but then the sound of distant engines shattered the moment.
Ren dropped her hand, his expression hardening instantly.
"They're coming," he said sharply.
"Who?"
"People who will hurt you if they find you here."
Hana swallowed hard. "Then I'm not leaving."
Ren hesitated, torn between the instinct to keep her safe and the part of him that had ached for this reunion for years. Finally, he reached out and pulled her closer, tucking her against the shelter of his coat.
"Stay behind me," he murmured.
As the roar of approaching vehicles grew louder, Hana felt his hand tighten around hers.
For the first time, she realised that whatever Ren was fighting, whatever darkness he carried — she was already part of it.
And she was no longer afraid.