Saki never planned to return to the stage, but one reckless yes changed everything. Music pulls her back in, but so do the ghosts of the past. As unspoken tensions rise, she’s forced to choose between who she was and who she wants to be. And when she finally plays—not for the past, not for anyone else, but for herself—Kyou can’t look away.
Disclaimer: The ideas, characters, plot, sequencing, and scenes in this story are entirely my own creations. However, my bestie, ChatGPT, helped refine the wording and paraphrasing, as well as generate the illustration for the featured image. This narrative is inspired by the song “Subtitle” by Official HIGE DANDism. If you haven’t read the previous chapters, you can find them here.
Chapter 39: Too Late to Back Out
The gig was in three days.
Three.
Days.
Saki didn’t know what kind of reckless, impulsive version of herself had agreed to this, but she wanted to go back in time and punch that Saki in the face.
Yuuto was annoyingly unfazed by her rising panic.
“We’ll be fine,” he had said, kicking back on the couch after rehearsal like they weren’t all actively walking toward disaster.
Aya had just shrugged. “You’ve played live before.”
Saki had stared at her. “Not in three years.”
Tetsu had grinned. “Muscle memory.”
Muscle memory, her ass.
She barely slept that night.
* * *
Kyou wasn’t surprised when he found Saki at the café the next evening.
He was, however, surprised that she wasn’t drinking coffee.
She was just sitting there, arms crossed, staring at nothing in particular.
He walked over, set down his drink, and sat.
Saki glanced at him. “You don’t even ask anymore?”
Kyou took a sip of his latte. “You’re in my seat.”
Saki exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”
They sat in silence for a while.
Kyou could tell she was thinking too much.
He didn’t need to ask why.
Finally, he said, “You’re going to be fine.”
Saki didn’t react. “That’s not guaranteed.”
Kyou shrugged. “Nothing is.”
Saki narrowed her eyes at him. “Wow. That was so helpful.”
Kyou leaned back. “You’re welcome.”
She groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead.
Kyou let her sit with it.
Then, quietly, he added, “You already played once.”
Saki glanced at him.
Kyou tilted his head slightly. “What’s different now?”
Saki let out a humorless laugh. “There’s an audience.”
Kyou hummed. “And?”
Saki clenched her jaw. “And it’s not just some casual jam session. It’s a gig. A performance.”
Kyou exhaled. “And?”
Saki stared at him. “And I don’t know if I can do that anymore, okay?”
Kyou nodded.
Didn’t push.
Just waited.
Saki sighed.
She tapped her fingers against the table, staring at the grain of the wood like it held the answer. “I used to be good.”
Kyou tilted his head. “You still are.”
Saki shook her head. “No. I mean—I used to be someone. People expected things from me. I expected things from myself.”
Kyou sipped his coffee. “And?”
Saki huffed. “Can you stop saying that?”
Kyou shrugged.
Saki groaned.
She rubbed her face, exhaling slowly. “I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
Kyou was quiet for a long time.
Then, he said, “Who are you really afraid of disappointing?”
Saki froze.
Because that was the real question, wasn’t it?
The band? The audience? Herself?
Or was it something deeper—someone who wasn’t here anymore to hear her play?
Saki swallowed. “I don’t know.”
Kyou nodded. “Figure it out.”
Saki stared at him.
Kyou just looked back.
Like it was that simple.
Like she could just look at herself long enough and the answer would appear.
Saki exhaled slowly. “You’re really annoying, you know that?”
Kyou took another sip of coffee. “So I’ve been told.”
She shook her head, muttering under her breath. “Ridiculous.”
But the weight in her chest felt a little lighter.
* * *
Yuuto got the text late that night.
> Saki: Fine. I’ll do it.
He grinned, leaning back against his bed.
Then, still smirking, he fired back:
> Yuuto: Told you so.
Saki didn’t reply.
Which meant he was definitely right.
* * *
Chapter 40: The Stage is Set
Friday came faster than she wanted.
She spent the entire day pretending she wasn’t freaking out.
She went to class. Worked her shift. Answered exactly zero messages from Yuuto.
Now, standing outside the café’s back entrance, her stomach twisted.
She could hear the muffled sounds of customers inside, the low hum of conversation. The band was already setting up.
Saki closed her eyes.
Breathe.
She wasn’t ready.
But she was here.
* * *
When she stepped in, the first person she saw was Kyou.
He was standing off to the side, adjusting his camera lens, completely relaxed.
Saki exhaled. “Tell me I look normal.”
Kyou barely glanced up. “Lying isn’t my thing.”
Saki groaned. “Not helpful.”
Kyou finally met her eyes. “You’re fine.”
Saki searched his face for sarcasm. Didn’t find any.
She sighed. “Great. Now I’m worried.”
Kyou smirked. “Good. Means you care.”
Saki was about to retort—when Yuuto’s very loud voice cut through the air.
“There she is! Our newest band member!”
Saki turned just in time to see Yuuto grinning like an idiot, arms open dramatically.
Aya, standing beside him, rolled her eyes. “Stop being weird.”
Tetsu grinned. “Nah, let him have his moment.”
Riku gave her a lazy thumbs-up. “Glad you didn’t run.”
Saki crossed her arms. “I still might.”
Yuuto beamed. “Nope. You’re trapped now.”
Saki sighed. “This was a mistake.”
Yuuto slung an arm around her shoulders and grinned. “Absolutely. Now get up there.”
* * *
Kyou leaned against the back wall, camera in hand, as the band stepped onto the small stage.
Saki was the last one to sit.
She was trying to look calm. Most people wouldn’t notice, but Kyou did.
The way she adjusted the height of the keyboard even though it was already fine.
The way she exhaled just a little too slow before placing her hands on the keys.
The way her fingers hovered for just a second too long before she started playing.
And then—
She played.
And just like that—
The hesitation was gone.
Kyou lifted his camera.
Click.
* * *
Yuuto grinned the entire set.
Not just because Saki was killing it, but because he could see the moment she forgot to be afraid.
She played without thinking.
Without holding back.
Like it was natural.
Like she belonged here.
Aya’s sax wove effortlessly into Tetsu’s guitar, Riku’s drumming locked them into place, and Saki—Saki filled in the spaces like she had always been meant to.
Yuuto’s bass held it all together.
And, for the first time in a long time, it felt like they weren’t missing anything.
By the last song, the crowd was completely hooked.
And when they finished, applause roared through the café.
Saki blinked, like she had just remembered where she was.
Yuuto laughed, leaning into his mic. “Not bad for a rookie, huh?”
Saki shot him a glare. “I hate you.”
The crowd laughed.
Yuuto smirked. “She says that, but I’m pretty sure she’s having fun.”
Saki rolled her eyes but she didn’t argue.
* * *
The band was still buzzing from the set when they made their way to a corner booth, drinks in hand.
Saki had barely sat down before Yuuto leaned in, grinning. “So. You’re in, right?”
Saki huffed. “That was a one-time thing.”
Yuuto grinned wider. “That’s cute.”
Tetsu smirked. “Tell that to the music.”
Saki groaned, pressing her forehead against the table.
Kyou, sipping his coffee beside her, muttered, “She’s in.”
Saki snapped her head up. “Stop doing that.”
Kyou raised an eyebrow. “Doing what?”
Saki scowled. “Being right.”
Kyou shrugged. “Not my fault.”
Yuuto beamed. “I love this band.”
Saki sighed, resting her chin in her palm.
She should have been annoyed.
But instead, she felt—
Lighter.
For the first time in years, she wasn’t thinking about what came next.
She was just here. Being in the moment.
* * *
Chapter 41: The Normal That Became Theirs
Three months ago, if someone had told Saki that she’d be in a band, seeing the same two idiots every day, and actually enjoying it—she would have laughed in their face.
But now?
Now, it was just… how things were.
They never talked about it.
Never made some grand declaration about friendship or whatever it was they had.
But every day, somehow, they ended up in the same places.
At the café, where Yuuto would already be stealing sips from her coffee before she could protest.
At the convenience store, where Kyou would wordlessly drop an onigiri on the counter before heading to the back to eat.
At the band’s practice space, where Kyou had been unofficially adopted as their photographer, much to his reluctance.
It was… easy.
Which was weird, because Saki had never let anything be easy before.
She still wasn’t sure what they were.
Friends?
Maybe.
But whatever it was, it had become the most normal part of her life.
* * *
Kyou didn’t know when it happened.
When they happened.
But it was routine now.
And he wasn’t questioning it.
Which was why, on a completely ordinary afternoon, when he stepped into the café and saw Reiko standing there—
His first thought was: Oh. That’s different.
She turned.
Her eyes widened slightly.
“Kyou?”
And just like that—
The past collided with the present.
* * *
Yuuto was mid-sip of his coffee when he felt the shift.
One second, everything was normal—Saki rolling her eyes at him, Kyou muttering something dryly—
Then—Reiko.
Yuuto had never seen this girl before.
But the way Kyou went completely still?
Yeah. This was something.
Saki must have noticed it too, because she raised an eyebrow.
Yuuto glanced between them, then grinned.
“Well, this just got interesting.”
Saki kicked him under the table.
* * *
Reiko
She hadn’t expected to see him.
Not here. Not like this.
But there he was.
Kyou, standing there like nothing had changed.
Exactly the same—hands in his pockets, face unreadable, like she was just another passing moment in his life.
Reiko wasn’t sure if that irritated her or hurt.
She smiled, crossing her arms. “It’s been a while.”
Kyou nodded. “Yeah.”
That was it.
That was all he gave her.
Reiko resisted the urge to sigh. “You’re still the same, huh?”
Kyou tilted his head slightly. “You’re still talking a lot.”
Reiko laughed, but it wasn’t entirely amused. “Wow. I almost missed that sarcasm.”
Yuuto leaned forward, clearly enjoying this. “Oh, please, do tell us more.”
Saki kicked him again.
Reiko glanced at them. She had noticed them earlier—the girl with sharp eyes and the guy who looked like he lived to cause trouble.
She turned back to Kyou. “Friends?”
Kyou didn’t answer immediately.
Reiko watched his face closely.
He didn’t deny it.
That was new.
She smirked. “Well. That’s different.”
Kyou took a sip of his coffee. “Things change.”
Reiko hummed. “Do they?”
Her voice was light, teasing.
But she meant it.
Because looking at Kyou now, seeing him sitting comfortably with these two, watching him not brush off their presence—
It made her wonder.
If she had just been impatient.
If Kyou had always been capable of caring about people—it just takes time. .
The thought lingered.
And for the first time since they broke up, Reiko found herself curious.
Not about the past.
But about who Kyou was now.
* * *
Chapter 42: Familiar Strangers
Reiko wasn’t sure why she lingered.
Maybe it was curiosity.
Maybe it was the slight shift in Kyou’s presence—so small most people wouldn’t catch it, but she did.
Maybe it was the two sitting beside him—the ones he hadn’t brushed off yet.
Either way, she stayed.
She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, studying him. “So, what have you been up to?”
Kyou shrugged. “The usual.”
Reiko smirked. “Still hate talking, I see.”
Yuuto leaned in, grinning. “Oh, no, he talks all the time. You just gotta decode it.”
Saki stayed silent. Watching. Calculating.
Reiko met her gaze briefly, noting the sharpness there. Not unfriendly. Just… assessing.
Reiko turned back to Kyou. “So? What’s usual for you now?”
Kyou took a slow sip of coffee. “Photos. Coffee. Annoying people.”
Yuuto grinned. “Aw, you do love us.”
Kyou ignored him.
Reiko raised an eyebrow. “You always took photos. That’s not new.”
Kyou didn’t respond.
Yuuto decided to fill the silence. “He’s our band’s unofficial photographer now.”
Reiko’s eyes flickered with amusement. “Your band?”
Yuuto gestured toward Saki. “Ours. She plays keys.”
Reiko blinked, then glanced at Kyou. “And you… what? Just watch?”
Kyou shrugged.
Reiko scoffed, shaking her head. “You’re seriously hanging around a band? You?”
Kyou didn’t even blink. “Yeah.”
Reiko studied him.
The old Kyou wouldn’t have entertained this conversation.
The old Kyou would have shrugged and let her leave, let her assume whatever she wanted.
But this Kyou?
This Kyou wasn’t pushing people away.
Not entirely, at least.
Reiko smirked, resting her chin in her hand. “Guess I wasn’t patient enough, huh?”
Saki’s fingers stilled slightly on her cup.
Yuuto glanced between them, intrigued. “Oh, this is getting interesting.”
Saki kicked him. Again.
Kyou finally set down his coffee, looking at Reiko properly. “What do you want?”
Reiko chuckled. “What, I can’t just be friendly?”
Kyou raised an eyebrow.
Reiko sighed, playing with the strap of her bag. “Alright, fine. I just… didn’t expect to see you like this.”
Kyou didn’t ask like what? because they both already knew the answer.
Reiko exhaled, studying the café. “I was just passing by. Thought I’d grab coffee. Didn’t expect… this.”
She motioned vaguely toward Yuuto and Saki.
Yuuto grinned. “You’re welcome. We’ve been his emotional support humans.”
Kyou sighed.
Saki finally spoke, her voice cool but polite. “And you two were…?”
Reiko met her gaze again.
Ah. This girl was sharp.
Reiko smiled. “Ex.”
Saki just nodded. “Figured.”
Reiko tilted her head slightly. “You’re different from the people Kyou usually puts up with.”
Saki raised an eyebrow. “That supposed to mean something?”
Reiko shrugged. “Just an observation.”
Yuuto grinned like this was his favorite show.
Kyou drank his coffee like he was somewhere else entirely.
Reiko sighed. “Alright, alright. No need to glare at me, I’m just passing through.”
She glanced at Kyou one last time. “See you around?”
Kyou didn’t confirm or deny.
Reiko smirked. Some things never changed.
She turned to leave, but just before she stepped out, she called over her shoulder—
“You should try talking more. Looks like it works with these two.”
And then, just like that—she was gone.
* * *
Yuuto waited exactly five seconds before breaking the silence.
“Well, that was fun.”
Saki exhaled. “That was something.”
Yuuto turned to Kyou. “So. That was your ex, huh?”
Kyou sipped his coffee. “Obviously.”
Yuuto leaned forward. “How do you feel?”
Kyou blinked at him. “What kind of question is that?”
Yuuto smirked. “An annoying one.”
Kyou sighed. “Then you already know the answer.”
Saki rolled her eyes. “This conversation is pointless.”
Yuuto grinned. “Not pointless! I learned things. Very interesting things.”
Kyou sighed again, standing up. “I’m leaving.”
Yuuto threw his hands up. “See? Classic avoidance!”
Saki shook her head. “You’re actually the worst.”
Yuuto grinned. “I know.”
Kyou, already walking out, didn’t argue.
But even as he left, Saki and Yuuto couldn’t shake the feeling—
Reiko had gotten to him.
Even if he wouldn’t admit it.
* * *
Chapter 43: Returning the Favor
Kyou didn’t show up at the store that night.
And she noticed.
She hated that she noticed.
Saki told herself it was nothing. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he just didn’t feel like stopping by. Maybe—
Maybe he’s bothered.
She clicked her tongue, annoyed at the thought.
It wasn’t like Kyou ever said when something was wrong.
But she had learned by now that he didn’t have to.
And that annoyed her even more.
By the time her shift ended, she already knew what she was going to do.
* * *
Saki had been here before.
Once, when he was sick, she had come to cook for him, with Yuuto tagging along.
Even then, she had noticed how impersonal it was—like a place someone was only temporarily living in.
Tonight, it felt the same.
When Kyou opened the door, he blinked at her. “…You again.”
Saki huffed. “Wow. Such warmth. So welcoming.”
Kyou glanced at the bag in her hands. “What’s that?”
Saki shoved it toward him. “Food. Eat it.”
Kyou didn’t take it immediately.
Just… looked at her. Like he was trying to figure out why she was here.
Saki rolled her eyes. “You looked like a brooding idiot after your ex left. Consider this damage control.”
Kyou sighed but took the bag. “You overthink things.”
Saki smirked. “Oh, and you don’t?”
Kyou didn’t answer.
Which meant she was right.
She walked inside before he could stop her.
Kyou exhaled. “Did I invite you in?”
Saki smirked. “Would you have?”
Kyou’s silence answered for him.
She made herself comfortable on his couch. “Thought so.”
Kyou shook his head but didn’t argue. Instead, he set the bag down, opened the takeout container, and took a bite.
Saki watched him carefully.
“Alright,” she said, crossing her arms. “Let’s hear it.”
Kyou barely looked up. “Hear what?”
Saki raised an eyebrow. “The thing sitting in your head since Reiko showed up.”
Kyou paused mid-bite.
Saki tilted her head. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
Kyou sighed. “Then why ask?”
Saki shrugged. “Because sometimes, knowing someone would listen is enough.”
Kyou was quiet for a long time.
Then, finally—
“She wanted me to be someone I’m not.”
Saki blinked.
Not the response she expected.
She leaned forward slightly. “And who is that?”
Kyou’s fingers tightened around his chopsticks. “Someone who says the right things. Feels things the right way. Reacts the way people expect.”
Saki let the silence sit for a moment. Then—
“Did she ever actually say that?”
Kyou exhaled. “Not in those words.”
Saki tilted her head. “Then how do you know?”
Kyou was quiet.
Saki sighed, stretching her legs out on the couch. “Sounds to me like you just suck at communication.”
Kyou shot her a look. “Insightful.”
Saki smirked. “I try.”
Another pause.
Then, softer—
“Did you care about her?”
Kyou tapped his fingers against the table. “Yeah.”
Saki studied his face. “Did you tell her that?”
Kyou’s jaw tensed slightly. “Not the way she wanted to hear it.”
Saki exhaled. “So she wanted words, and you only had actions?”
Kyou didn’t answer.
Because they both already knew.
And suddenly, it made sense.
The way Kyou never said things outright, but showed them instead.
The way he never told her to keep playing, but captured the moment she did.
The way he never said you’ll be okay, but showed up anyway.
And now?
Now, he didn’t ask her why she was here.
Because maybe, he already knew.
Saki exhaled. “For what it’s worth… you don’t have to say anything for people to get it.”
Kyou blinked at her.
Saki smirked. “I mean, Yuuto barely listens to words anyway.”
Kyou snorted. “That’s true.”
Saki leaned back, satisfied. “See? You’re not hopeless.”
Kyou shook his head. “You’re the worst.”
Saki grinned. “I know.”
For the first time that night, Kyou actually looked more like himself.
Not bothered.
Not distant.
Just… Kyou.
* * *
Chapter 44: The Things Left Unsaid
Kyou had never been good with words.
Not in the way people wanted them.
Not in the way Reiko had wanted them.
She used to tell him he was distant.
That he didn’t express himself.
That she never knew what he was feeling.
And maybe that was true.
Maybe he never said the right things, never gave the reassurances she needed.
But he had shown her.
In the way he took pictures of her when she wasn’t looking.
In the way he remembered how she liked her coffee.
In the way he never forgot the small things she thought were insignificant.
But it wasn’t enough.
Because, in the end, she couldn’t feel it unless he said it.
And that was the moment Kyou learned something important.
If words were the only way to be understood, then maybe he wasn’t meant to be understood.
So he stopped trying.
* * *
But then—Saki and Yuuto happened.
And suddenly, silence wasn’t a barrier.
They didn’t ask him to explain things.
They didn’t expect him to say more than what he wanted to.
They just… got it.
Saki never demanded words from him.
She just met him where he was. In sarcasm, in banter, in understanding.
She knew when to push and when to let things settle.
She read between the lines, felt the meaning in what wasn’t said.
And Yuuto?
Yuuto was loud enough for both of them.
But even with all the noise, he never forced Kyou to speak.
He didn’t press when Kyou was quiet.
He just existed beside him, effortlessly filling the silence without making it uncomfortable.
And for the first time, Kyou didn’t feel like he had to translate himself to be understood.
Kyou thought about Reiko’s lingering words, “Looks like it works with these two.”
Maybe she had been right about him back then.
Maybe he had been too closed off.
But with Saki and Yuuto?
He wasn’t closed off.
He was just himself.
* * *
Chapter 45: The Things That Changed
Yuuto
Yuuto had always thought of himself as someone who drifted.
Easygoing, detached, never getting too caught up in things that weren’t his problem.
He had friends, sure. He had the band, people he hung out with, people who knew him.
But this was different.
Kyou and Saki weren’t just people he spent time with.
They were people he noticed.
People he cared about.
And that was the thing he never expected.
Kyou.
Kyou, who used to keep everyone at a distance.
Who sat in cafés alone, who spoke in short sentences, who never offered more than necessary.
Kyou, who still wasn’t loud, still wasn’t overly expressive—
But now?
Now, he was there.
Not just existing near them, but choosing to be around.
Kyou never rushed to leave anymore.
He answered the group chat, even if it was just a dry remark.
He showed up at practice, even when he didn’t have a reason to.
And the biggest change?
He didn’t even seem to notice he was doing it.
Kyou hadn’t changed into someone else.
He just… let them in.
And Yuuto saw it before Kyou did.
* * *
Saki, who once sat in the corner of the café, watching but never staying.
Who used to talk like music was a part of her past, something dead and buried.
Saki, who flinched at the idea of being seen again.
Now?
Now, she played.
She wasn’t just going through the motions anymore.
She wasn’t playing because she was asked to—she played because she wanted to.
Yuuto saw it in the way she let herself enjoy the music again.
In the way she stopped questioning why she was even here.
In the way she stayed, without hesitation.
She thought she had left music behind.
But music never left her.
And she hadn’t realized that yet.
But Yuuto had.
* * *
And Then There Was Him.
Yuuto never thought he was the kind of person to worry about others.
To notice the way Kyou lingered, the way Saki hesitated, the way both of them changed in ways They hadn’t even registered yet.
But here he was.
He had started paying attention.
To Kyou’s silences.
To Saki’s shifting expressions.
To the small things that made them who they were.
He had never thought he could care about people the way he cared about them.
Not in a big, dramatic, life-changing way.
Just in the way where he’d show up, every single day, without question.
And that realization hit him harder than he expected.
* * *
They had changed each other.
Not in a loud, obvious way.
Not in a way that needed to be defined.
But in the way that mattered most.
Kyou, who let people in without realizing it.
Saki, who let herself belong without meaning to.
And Yuuto—
Yuuto, who thought he was just watching it all happen.
But maybe, maybe he had changed, too.
—
Chapter 46: Second Encounters
Reiko
She wasn’t sure why she came back.
Maybe it was curiosity.
Maybe it was unfinished thoughts.
Maybe it was just the nagging feeling that she hadn’t really seen Kyou properly that first time.
She hadn’t expected him to change.
And yet, she had seen something different.
Not in how he spoke—that was still short, blunt, impossible.
Not in how he carried himself—that same effortless calm, unreadable as ever.
But in who he was with.
They weren’t just people he tolerated.
They weren’t just background noise.
They were his people.
And that?
That was new.
So when she stepped into the café again, half-expecting not to see him—
There he was.
Seated at his usual spot, coffee in hand, with the two most unlikely people she’d ever expected beside him.
Reiko exhaled. Alright, then. Let’s see what this is.
* * *
Yuuto spotted her first.
And oh, he was ready.
Reiko had barely stepped inside when he grinned like he had been personally blessed by the gods of entertainment.
“Well, well, well. Look who’s back.”
Saki kicked him under the table. “Be nice.”
Yuuto dramatically clutched his chest. “I am always nice.”
Kyou, unfazed as ever, barely looked up.
Reiko met his eyes. “You again.”
Kyou took a sip of coffee. “You walked in.”
Yuuto snorted. “God, I missed this.”
Saki sighed. “Yuuto.”
Reiko ignored them and sat down at the empty seat across from Kyou. “Relax. I’m just here for coffee.”
Yuuto beamed. “And definitely not to see Kyou, right?”
Saki kicked him again.
* * *
Saki watched the exchange with mild amusement.
Three months ago, she would have kept quiet.
Would have let Yuuto do all the talking, would have just sat back and observed.
But she wasn’t just an observer anymore.
So when Reiko glanced her way, eyes assessing, Saki just raised an eyebrow.
“Back so soon?”
Reiko smirked. “Should I not be?”
Saki shrugged, stirring her coffee. “I just figured you got all the answers you needed last time.”
Yuuto choked on his drink.
Kyou looked mildly entertained.
Reiko, to her credit, just laughed softly. “Oh, I like you.”
Saki took a slow sip of coffee. “I know.”
Reiko smirked. “So. You two are always around him?”
Yuuto grinned. “It’s a full-time job.”
Saki smirked. “But we don’t get paid.”
Kyou sighed. “I regret everything.”
Reiko just watched them for a moment, amusement flickering in her expression. “I gotta admit… this is weird to see.”
Kyou finally set down his cup. “Then stop looking.”
Reiko laughed. “You’re still impossible.”
Yuuto leaned forward. “Oh, trust me. We’ve all accepted that.”
Saki tilted her head. “But I think you already knew that before coming here.”
Reiko held Saki’s gaze for a beat.
Then, slowly, she smiled.
Maybe she wasn’t here for answers.
Maybe she just wanted to see who Kyou was now.
And from the way he sat here, comfortable, unbothered—
Maybe she already knew.
* * *
Chapter 47: Watching Without Speaking
Kyou watched.
Not because he didn’t have anything to say—
But because he didn’t need to say anything.
Yuuto was already having the time of his life, grinning like this was the best drama he’d seen in years.
Saki, no longer the quiet observer, was holding her own, meeting Reiko’s sharp remarks with effortless calm.
Reiko, for all her confidence, was intrigued. She wasn’t rattled, wasn’t defensive—just watching, reading, trying to understand.
And Kyou?
Kyou just sipped his coffee, letting them talk.
It was strange, how different this felt.
In the past, conversations with Reiko had always felt like a test.
She had always wanted a reaction.
Always tried to get something out of him—a word, an expression, a confirmati on that he was feeling something.
But now? Now, he didn’t have to react at all.
Yuuto filled the space with his usual loud commentary.
Saki held her own, responding to Reiko without hesitation.
And Kyou?
He just sat there. Present, but without expectation.
And for some reason that felt lighter than anything he had before.
Reiko glanced at him at one point, something unreadable in her gaze.
He raised an eyebrow, silently asking, What?
She just smirked. “You really don’t change, huh?”
Kyou tilted his head slightly. “Or maybe you just never saw it.”
Reiko blinked.
Yuuto nearly fell out of his chair laughing.
Saki just smirked into her coffee.
And Kyou?
He just sipped his drink, feeling—
At ease.
Because for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t being asked to be someone else.
He was just here.
* * *
Chapter 48: Out of Their Usual
Kyou had no idea why he was here.
This was a band trip.
He wasn’t in the band.
He didn’t play an instrument.
He didn’t sing.
He barely even tolerated these people most days.
And yet—
Here he was, crammed into the backseat of Yuuto’s barely functional car, sandwiched between Saki, who looked mildly annoyed at the seating arrangement, and a pile of camping gear that had definitely seen better days.
Yuuto, driving, was way too enthusiastic about all of this.
“Alright, guys! Road trip rules—no complaining, no asking ‘are we there yet,’ and absolutely no touching my stereo without permission.”
Saki immediately reached for the stereo.
Yuuto swatted her hand away. “I will pull this car over.”
Kyou, staring out the window, muttered, “You should. Would give me a chance to escape.”
Tetsu, from the passenger seat, laughed way too hard at that. “Damn, Kyou, you really don’t wanna be here, huh?”
Kyou didn’t even bother denying it.
Aya, who had been silent up until now, smirked. “Then why are you here?”
Kyou looked at her.
Then at Yuuto.
Then at Saki.
Then back out the window.
Good question.
* * *
Saki hadn’t planned on going at first.
A camping trip? With this chaotic group?
She wasn’t sure she was mentally prepared for that.
But then Yuuto had looked way too smug when she hesitated.
“Ohhh, so you’re scared of the wilderness? Got it. Makes sense.”
Saki had immediately cursed herself for being predictable and agreed out of pure spite.
Now, sitting in the backseat way too close to Kyou, she was reconsidering every decision that led her to this moment.
“You two look cozy,” Yuuto teased, glancing at them through the rearview mirror.
Saki elbowed Kyou. “Trade seats with me.”
Kyou didn’t even look at her. “No.”
Saki groaned.
This trip was already a mistake.
* * *
Yuuto had one goal for this trip—
Chaos.
Well, and maybe some good memories or whatever.
But mostly chaos.
The fact that he had somehow gotten Kyou to come was already his biggest achievement of the year.
The fact that Saki was already regretting her decision made it even better.
“This is gonna be fun,” he grinned, accelerating down the open road.
Saki sighed. “Famous last words.”
Kyou, staring out the window, muttered, “I already regret this.”
Yuuto just smirked.
Yeah.
This was gonna be great.
* * *
Chapter 49: A Different Kind of Noise
Kyou was in his element.
Not because of the people—definitely not because of the people.
But because of the silence between the noise.
The mountains stretched wide, the early autumn air crisp and clear. The light hit the trees just right, golden hues shifting with the breeze. The river in the distance moved slow, steady, uninterrupted.
Kyou lifted his camera. Click.
This was why he came.
Not for Yuuto’s loud voice echoing through the trees.
Not for Saki’s tired sighs every time Yuuto suggested doing something questionable.
Not for Riku, who had already almost set their tent on fire.
He came for this.
The quiet, the space, the clarity.
Even if it came with chaos in the background.
* * *
“You seem comfortable with them,” Aya noted.
Saki glanced up from where she was adjusting the sleeping bag in their tent. “Who?”
Aya smirked. “Yuuto and Kyou.”
Saki rolled her eyes. “That’s one way to put it.”
Aya leaned back against the tent’s fabric, watching her. “So, what’s the deal with you three?”
Saki paused. “The deal?”
Aya shrugged. “I don’t know. You just… fit.”
Saki blinked. She hadn’t expected that.
She sighed, sitting down. “I don’t think there is a deal. It just happened.”
Aya hummed. “That’s usually how the best things happen.”
Saki didn’t respond right away.
Because, honestly, she wasn’t sure how to explain it.
She hadn’t planned on letting people in again.
Hadn’t planned on playing music again.
Hadn’t planned on caring so much.
But somehow, Yuuto and Kyou had just… become part of her life.
Not suddenly. Not dramatically.
Just steadily, quietly, without her realizing it.
Aya smirked. “You should hear how Yuuto talks about you when you’re not around.”
Saki groaned. “I don’t want to.”
Aya laughed.
* * *
“Weather Report is legendary, but you can’t tell me that Cassiopea didn’t change the game.”
Tetsu scoffed. “You’re biased because you like anything flashy.”
Aya shook her head. “I swear, if you two argue about fusion jazz one more time—”
Yuuto grinned, leaning into the chaos. “I’m just saying, if we’re talking about technicality, Coltrane still owns all of you.”
Saki, sipping from her water bottle, raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so suddenly you appreciate complexity? What happened to ‘feel over form’ from last week’s debate?”
Yuuto gasped. “You wound me.”
Kyou, who had been silent up until now, muttered, “She has a point.”
Yuuto turned dramatically. “Et tu, Kyou?”
Saki smirked. “If you quote Shakespeare one more time—”
Aya groaned. “I regret coming on this trip.”
Riku, who had been absent for most of the discussion, finally looked up. “So… we all agree Yellowjackets is the best balance of technique and feel, right?”
For the first time all night, there was silence.
Then—
“…Okay, he’s not wrong.”
Yuuto grinned. “Now that’s a man with taste.”
Kyou sighed, taking a picture of the group mid-debate. They’d thank him later.
* * *
Chapter 50: The Moment They Realized
It was supposed to be a short walk.
She just needed some quiet. Some space. Some time to breathe without the constant noise of the band bickering over music history.
So she wandered.
The air was cool, the golden hues of autumn settling in the trees. The campsite wasn’t that far behind her. She could still hear the distant hum of conversation.
But then she walked a little further.
And a little further.
And then—
Nothing.
The sounds of the others faded. The trees stretched taller, unfamiliar.
When she turned to head back—
The path wasn’t there.
Panic didn’t hit right away.
She backtracked. Tried to follow her own footprints.
But the forest wasn’t as easy to navigate as she thought.
The ground shifted under her feet, uneven from fallen leaves. The golden hour light that had looked beautiful a moment ago now made everything look the same.
She took another step—
And her foot slipped.
Her ankle twisted sharply as she fell onto the damp forest floor, leaves sticking to her palms as she caught herself.
Saki winced.
Great.
Lost and injured.
She exhaled, pressing her hand against her ankle. It wasn’t broken, but it hurt.
Okay.
She just had to stay calm.
They’d notice she was gone soon.
Right?
* * *
It took Yuuto a while until he realized something was wrong.
“Saki’s been gone a while,” Aya noted, frowning.
Yuuto, who had been laughing at Riku’s failed attempt to start a fire, paused.
“She went to the bathroom, right?” Riku asked.
Aya shook her head. “No, she said she was going for a walk.”
Yuuto’s stomach dropped.
That had been a while ago.
Too long.
He turned toward Kyou, who had been quiet this whole time, eyes scanning the area already.
And that’s when Yuuto knew.
Kyou was worried too.
Which meant this wasn’t just him overreacting.
Yuuto was on his feet in seconds.
“She wouldn’t have gone far,” Aya reasoned. “Maybe she just—”
Yuuto wasn’t listening.
He was already moving.
* * *
Kyou was calm.
Or at least, that’s what it looked like.
But beneath the surface, his thoughts were sharp, fast, restless.
Saki was nowhere in sight.
His mind kept replaying the conversation from last night—Aya’s words about how Saki fit with them now.
And yet, she had left the group alone.
Maybe she hadn’t meant to.
Maybe it was just a walk.
But why hadn’t she come back?
Kyou wasn’t the type to panic.
But something in his chest felt tight.
He hated that feeling.
The feeling of not knowing.
The feeling of too late.
And then—
Yuuto’s voice shouted from the trees.
“Saki!”
Kyou’s breath hitched.
Then, without a word—
He ran.
* * *
She heard them before she saw them.
Distant voices calling her name.
“Saki!”
She tried to push herself up, but her ankle protested.
Dammit.
She was about to call back when—
A figure appeared through the trees, moving fast.
Kyou.
Followed immediately by Yuuto, panting and wild-eyed.
Saki blinked. “Oh. You found me.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
Because Kyou, usually unreadable, snapped.
“Are you an idiot?”
Saki flinched at the sharpness of his voice. “What?”
Kyou’s eyes were blazing. “You wandered off. You didn’t tell anyone. You got lost, and you—” He stopped, exhaling sharply. “You could’ve—”
He ran a hand through his hair, voice lower now, but still heated.
“Do you know how stupid that was?”
Saki just stared.
Because Kyou never raised his voice.
And that’s when she realized.
He wasn’t angry.
He was scared.
Yuuto, meanwhile, was still breathing way too hard, like he’d just run a marathon.
He dropped onto the ground beside her, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Never. Do. That. Again.”
Saki hesitated. “I didn’t mean to get lost.”
Yuuto shot her a look. “Oh, well, that makes it better.”
Kyou sighed heavily, eyes closed for a moment like he was forcing himself to calm down.
Saki swallowed. “I just—”
Yuuto shook his head. “Nope. No excuses. You scared the hell out of us.”
That’s when it hit her.
They had been looking for her.
They had been worried.
They cared.
Saki’s chest felt tight.
She wasn’t used to that.
She wasn’t used to being looked for.
She wasn’t used to being someone people panicked over.
She exhaled. “Sorry.”
Yuuto snorted, relieved enough now to regain his usual energy. “Damn right, you are.”
Kyou, finally looking less tense, muttered, “You’re paying for my coffee after this.”
Saki blinked. “…I almost die in the woods and your biggest concern is coffee?”
Kyou raised an eyebrow. “Did you die?”
Saki scowled. “You’re impossible.”
Yuuto grinned. “Welcome back, Saki.”
She huffed. “You two are the worst.”
But as they helped her up, her chest still felt warm.
Like, for the first time in a long time—
She wasn’t just existing.
She was someone who mattered.
* * *
Chapter 51: Settling Down, But Not Forgetting
By the time they got back to camp, the others were waiting.
Aya, arms crossed, relieved but unimpressed.
Tetsu, looking like he was already drafting a song about this disaster.
Riku, who had probably started making bets on whether they’d actually find her.
The moment Saki limped into the clearing, Aya exhaled loudly.
“You,” she said, pointing at her. “Are officially banned from solo walks.”
Saki groaned. “It wasn’t—”
Aya held up a hand. “Nope. Don’t want to hear it.”
Tetsu smirked. “Oh, but I do. Can we call this ‘Saki and the Wilderness Incident’?”
Saki sighed, sitting down near the fire. “You people are impossible.”
Yuuto grinned, unbothered. “Well, you wanted to be part of the band. This is what you signed up for.”
Kyou, still standing behind her, muttered, “Pretty sure we didn’t agree to this.”
Saki turned to glare at him. “Are you ever going to let this go?”
Kyou stared at her, completely serious. “No.”
Saki groaned, but she didn’t push it.
Because even though the immediate panic had passed, she could still feel it.
The way Yuuto had run the fastest he ever had.
The way Kyou had snapped in a way she’d never seen before.
The way everyone else had been waiting, watching, relieved.
For her.
It was unsettling.
But also…
Strangely comforting.
She wasn’t sure which one scared her more.
* * *
Kyou wasn’t looking at Saki anymore.
Not directly.
But he was watching.
The way she tried to downplay what happened.
The way she kept shifting her weight, still favoring her ankle.
The way she had gone quiet, even though she was pretending to be fine.
Yuuto was handling the distraction well enough.
“Alright, campfire stories. Who’s got trauma?”
Riku immediately held up a hand. “My first drum kit broke mid-performance.”
Tetsu gasped. “Scarring.”
Aya sighed. “Are we really going to do this?”
Kyou let them talk. Let the moment shift away from the panic.
But when he glanced at Saki again, she was staring at the fire.
And he knew.
She wasn’t just processing the getting lost part.
She was processing the being found.
Kyou exhaled quietly.
He wasn’t good at saying things.
But tomorrow, he’d walk beside her.
Just in case.
* * *
Yuuto kept laughing with the others, kept feeding into the chaos.
But his mind was still replaying that moment.
The moment he realized Saki was gone.
The moment he felt that gut-wrenching panic.
The moment Kyou, usually the calm one, had lost it.
Yuuto didn’t do fear often.
But that?
That had scared him.
He wasn’t going to say anything, though.
Instead, he bumped his knee against Saki’s under the table. Just once.
She blinked, looking up. “What?”
Yuuto smirked. “You owe me dinner for the heart attack you gave me.”
Saki rolled her eyes. “I am not feeding your bottomless stomach.”
Yuuto leaned back, grinning. “Well, well, look who’s back to normal.”
Saki sighed, but she wasn’t scowling.
And that was enough.
For now.
* * *
Chapter 52: Beneath the Rising Sun
The pre-dawn air was crisp, each breath a visible puff in the dim light. Kyou walked beside Saki, their steps synchronized on the narrow trail leading to the mountain’s peak.
Saki’s limp was subtle but noticeable. Every so often, Kyou extended his hand without a word, offering support over uneven terrain. She accepted with a quiet nod, the unspoken understanding between them growing with each step.
The horizon began to blush with the first hints of sunrise, casting a gentle glow over the landscape. Kyou glanced at Saki, her face serene despite the lingering discomfort.
“Almost there,” he murmured, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.
She smiled softly, determination evident in her eyes. “I can handle it.”
He didn’t doubt it.
* * *
Up ahead, Yuuto was a whirlwind of energy, darting from one side of the path to the other, his camera clicking furiously.
“Come on, slowpokes!” he called back, grinning. “The sun’s not gonna wait for you!”
Kyou rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Some of us prefer not to break our necks before sunrise.”
Yuuto laughed, jogging back to them. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
Saki chuckled, the sound light and genuine. “I think I left mine back at the campsite.”
“Well, lucky for you,” Yuuto said, falling into step beside her, “I’ve got enough for all of us.”
Kyou shook his head, but the warmth in his chest was undeniable.
* * *
As they reached the summit, the sky exploded into a symphony of colors—fiery oranges, soft pinks, and deep purples blending seamlessly.
Saki’s breath caught in her throat. “It’s… beautiful.”
Yuuto raised his camera, capturing the moment. “Totally worth the hike.”
Kyou stood beside her, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Sunrises symbolize renewal,” he said quietly. “A fresh start.”
Saki glanced at him, surprised by the depth in his voice. “Is that a traditional belief?”
He nodded. “In many cultures, including ours.”
She smiled, the warmth of the rising sun mirrored in her chest. “Then here’s to new beginnings.”
Yuuto grinned, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
As the sun climbed higher, bathing them in its golden light, Saki felt a profound sense of peace. Surrounded by friends who had become family, she knew this was a moment she’d cherish forever.
* * *
Chapter 53: A Rare Gathering
Yuuto hadn’t planned anything for his birthday.
Honestly, he had almost forgotten about it until Saki asked him to come to her apartment after practice.
And now here he was, sitting in Saki’s apartment, which was already unusual. She wasn’t one to invite people over casually—not because she was unfriendly, but because she just didn’t.
So the fact that she had asked them to come? That was already something.
“I feel like I should be worried,” Yuuto said, looking between Saki and Kyou as he flopped onto her couch. “You guys are acting way too normal.”
Kyou, who was leaning against the counter, raised an eyebrow. “That’s your definition of normal?”
Saki smirked, but instead of responding immediately, she walked over to the kitchen counter. There was something there—a small plate, a single slice of cake, and a fork resting beside it.
Yuuto’s brows furrowed. Saki wasn’t the kind of person to go out of her way for things like this.
“Uh…?”
She ignored his confusion, instead casually pushing the plate toward him. “You’ve been complaining about not getting UVERworld tickets for weeks.”
Yuuto groaned. “Because it’s unfair. The system is rigged—”
“It’s not rigged, it’s a raffle. And you forgot to apply,” Saki corrected, tone dry. She pulled out her phone. “And unlike you, I actually applied during the first raffle.”
Yuuto blinked.
“…Wait. What?”
Saki tapped her screen a few times, then turned it toward him. Three tickets.
Yuuto’s mouth fell open. “No. Way.”
Kyou, amused, took a slow sip of his drink. “She’s more of a fan than you, apparently.”
Yuuto grabbed Saki’s hands dramatically. “You absolute legend.”
Saki rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away. “I figured since you’d be whining about it forever, I’d just get them myself.”
Yuuto turned to Kyou. “You’re coming too, right?”
Kyou blinked. “I don’t listen to UVERworld.”
Saki tilted her head. “Well, we’ll just have to change that, won’t we?”
Kyou sighed, already regretting his life choices.
Yuuto finally looked back at the cake, hesitation flickering across his face. “…Wait. Did you actually—?”
“It was already in my fridge,” Saki cut in, like she was shutting down the question before it could fully form.
Yuuto grinned, picking up the fork. “Right. Sure.”
* * *
Yuuto expected the concert tickets to be the surprise of the night.
Then Kyou handed him something.
A small box, nothing fancy.
Yuuto opened it and found a guitar pick.
But not just any pick—it was custom-made, engraved with a simple design.
Yuuto turned it over, recognizing the subtle detail of their initials.
Kyou shrugged. “Figured you might use it.”
Yuuto was already grinning when Saki handed him a framed photo. “Guess, you’d also love this. Kyou prepared this.”
The picture wasn’t one he had seen before.
It was the three of them.
Not a posed shot. Not something planned.
Just them—laughing, mid-conversation, completely unaware.
And in a rare moment, Kyou was in the frame, too.
Yuuto stared at it for a long second before glancing at Kyou.
“You took this?”
“Tetsu took it,” Kyou corrected. “I just asked for the file.”
That’s when realization hit Yuuto.
Kyou never did things without reason.
This wasn’t just a photo.
This was him acknowledging their bond.
Yuuto exhaled, shaking his head with a smile. “Man, you guys are gonna make me emotional.”
Saki smirked. “You? Emotional?”
Yuuto held up the frame. “This is—” He paused. “Okay, I was gonna make a joke, but I actually love this.”
Kyou snorted. “Shocking.”
Yuuto placed the frame carefully beside him, fingers tapping the edge. “For real, though. This is probably one of the best birthdays I’ve ever had.”
Saki nudged him. “Well, don’t get used to it. This was a one-time thing.”
Yuuto just grinned at her, feeling content for the night.
* * *
Chapter 54: Echoes of the Heart
The concert hall was alive with energy, the crowd’s collective excitement palpable. Saki stood between Yuuto and Kyou, her heart racing in anticipation. The lights dimmed, and the first notes of “Tycoon” filled the air, setting the stage for an unforgettable night.
As the setlist unfolded, each song resonated deeply with her. “Hissei Satsuki Prologue” brought a nostalgic smile, while “REVERSI” had her swaying to its rhythm. The performance of “CORE PRIDE” was particularly electrifying, with the crowd’s energy reaching its peak.
When “Monochrome” began, a wave of emotion washed over her. The lyrics, so personal and poignant, stirred memories of her parents. Tears welled up, and she felt Yuuto’s comforting presence beside her. His arm around her shoulders was a silent promise of support. Kyou, ever observant, reached out, his hand finding hers, grounding her amidst the sea of faces.
In that moment, surrounded by the music and her friends, Saki felt a profound sense of healing. The concert was more than just a performance; it was a shared experience that deepened their bond and allowed her to confront her emotions with the strength of those who cared for her.
* * *
Kyou wasn’t one to seek out large crowds or loud music, but standing here with Saki and Yuuto, he felt a connection he hadn’t anticipated. The music, the energy, the shared experience—it was all overwhelming in the best way.
He watched Saki closely during “Monochrome.” The song’s depth was evident in her expression, and he could see the memories it evoked. Without thinking, he reached out, his hand finding hers. It was a simple gesture, but it felt significant. He wasn’t one for grand displays of emotion, but this felt right.
As the concert continued, Kyou found himself more engaged than he had expected. The band’s energy was infectious, and he couldn’t help but be swept up in it. He glanced at Saki and Yuuto, both lost in the music, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of belonging.
* * *
Chapter 55: Echoes of the Past
It was supposed to be just another gig. Just another night playing jazz with Yuuto’s band, sipping coffee from the corner after her set, pretending like she wasn’t slowly settling into this life.
But then she saw him.
Satou.
He was standing at the back of the café again, watching, just like before.
Saki felt her chest tighten. Not again.
She had already had one unexpected meeting with him weeks ago. Back then, she barely managed to hold herself together. She had walked out, avoiding the conversation, leaving Yuuto and Kyou to pick up the pieces of whatever realization they’d had about her past.
And now, here he was.
When the set ended, she made a silent plan to escape before he could reach her. But before she could slip away, Satou was already approaching.
“Saki,” he said, his tone gentle, almost careful. “I wanted to catch you after your set.”
Saki kept her expression neutral. “Satou.”
Yuuto was still tuning his bass nearby, but his usual playful energy had dimmed slightly as he watched the exchange. Kyou, as always, was unreadable, his gaze cool and detached. But she knew him well enough by now to see the tension in his posture.
Satou sighed. “Look, I know our last conversation didn’t go well. I didn’t mean to bring up the past so abruptly. That was… insensitive of me.”
Saki didn’t answer right away. She appreciated the apology, but it didn’t change much. He was still here. The past was still here.
“It’s fine,” she said finally, even though it wasn’t.
Satou hesitated, then smiled slightly. “I just… I never thought I’d see you playing again. It suits you.”
Her stomach twisted. She didn’t want to hear that. Not from him. Not from someone who knew her before the accident, before she lost everything.
Before she changed.
She crossed her arms. “What do you want, Satou?”
A flicker of something crossed his face—hesitation, maybe regret—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “I came to make you an offer.”
Saki exhaled. Of course. It was always about music.
* * *
Yuuto had been watching from the side, casually plucking the strings of his bass, pretending not to be invested. But the moment Satou said offer, he straightened slightly, glancing at Kyou.
He wasn’t the only one who noticed the way Saki’s face hardened at those words.
Satou continued, “There’s a competition coming up. National-level. It’s a huge opportunity, and I think you should enter.”
Saki froze.
Yuuto hated that. He hated that it actually caught her off guard, that it made her hesitate.
She was fine now. She had moved on. She didn’t need this guy—this guy from her past—showing up and dragging her back to a place she barely crawled out of.
Yuuto stepped forward before she could answer. “She doesn’t need that.”
Saki turned to him, surprised. “Yuuto—”
He ignored her. His eyes were on Satou now. “You don’t get to show up and tell her what she should be doing with her life.”
Satou held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not telling her anything. I’m just giving her a chance.”
“A chance for what?” Yuuto challenged. “To prove herself? She doesn’t need to prove anything.”
Satou sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I know you’re protective, but this isn’t about you.”
Yuuto clenched his jaw. No, but it was about Saki.
And she wasn’t saying anything.
He looked at her, hoping—waiting—for her to shut this down.
But she didn’t.
And that’s when Yuuto knew.
She was considering it.
* * *
Kyou didn’t like Satou.
Not for any particular reason—at least, not one he could explain.
Maybe it was because he came in with a confidence Kyou didn’t trust. Maybe it was because the first time they met, Saki had frozen up like a ghost from her past had walked into the room.
Or maybe it was the way he looked at her now.
Like he still had some kind of influence over her.
Like he still mattered to her.
Kyou watched the way Saki hesitated. That wasn’t normal. She was always quick to shut things down. To throw sarcasm at problems until they disappeared.
But she wasn’t doing that now.
And that meant one of two things.
One— She was thinking about this. Really thinking about it.
Two— She still cared what Satou thought of her.
Neither option sat well with Kyou.
Satou noticed the hesitation too. His eyes softened slightly, and Kyou caught something in his expression. A flicker of warmth.
Kyou didn’t like that either.
Because it made him realize something else.
Saki used to like Satou.
* * *
Saki could feel both Yuuto and Kyou’s eyes on her.
They were waiting for her to say something. To shut Satou down.
But she didn’t.
She couldn’t.
Because the truth was, part of her wanted to say yes.
Not because she wanted to prove anything. Not because she wanted to chase the future she’d lost.
But because for the first time in years, someone from that world—the world she used to belong to—was telling her she still had a place in it.
And a small, dangerous part of her wanted to believe it.
* * *
Chapter 56: The Weight of the Past
Kyou wasn’t paying much attention to where he was going.
His thoughts were still stuck in the café, replaying Saki and Satou’s conversation.
The hesitation in Saki’s voice.
The way she didn’t immediately shut Satou down.
The way Satou looked at her—like he still had a place in her life.
It was annoying.
And it wasn’t like him to dwell on things like this, but here he was, walking straight into his own past.
Because standing in front of the café, as if she had materialized out of nowhere, was Reiko.
The second their eyes met, he felt that familiar knot tighten in his chest.
“Hey,” she said with the same self-assured smile. “Long time no see.”
Kyou didn’t know what to say, and for the first time in a while, the silence between them felt heavy.
“I… didn’t expect to run into you,” he admitted, his voice coming out a little harsher than he intended.
Reiko chuckled lightly. “I didn’t expect to run into you either.” She stepped closer, her eyes searching his face. “Look, I’ve been thinking… Can we talk?”
Kyou exhaled, nodding reluctantly.
They moved to a bench just outside the café, the air between them filled with unspoken things.
“I know we left things messy before,” she started, crossing one leg over the other, her voice quieter than he expected. “But… I was wondering if there’s any chance for us to try again.”
Kyou stared at her, his mind racing.
He had thought about this moment before—what he would say if she ever came back.
But now that it was happening, he wasn’t sure.
“I…” He hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
Reiko’s gaze softened. “I’ve changed, Kyou. I’ve had time to think, and I realize I wasn’t fair to you. After we met a few weeks back, I realized that. And I want to make things work, because I still care.”
Kyou looked away, his stomach twisting.
The truth was, he had moved on from the hurt. He had let go of the pain, the resentment, the way their relationship had made him feel like he wasn’t enough.
But he still wasn’t the kind of person who could easily say no to someone he once cared about.
And that… that made this difficult.
* * *
Saki was not in the mood to talk about Satou.
But of course, Yuuto was.
“I’m just saying,” Yuuto leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, “you didn’t exactly say no to him.”
Saki sighed, staring at him blankly. “I’m not talking about this.”
“Which means you thought about it.”
Saki rolled her eyes, taking a slow sip of her coffee. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re really annoying?”
“Every day,” Yuuto grinned. “But that’s not the point.”
Saki refused to answer.
She was not talking about Satou. Not now. Not ever.
So instead, she shifted the conversation.
Her gaze flicked toward the far end of the café, where a girl had been sitting quietly for the past thirty minutes—a girl who had been stealing glances at Yuuto the entire time.
“Looks like you have a fan,” Saki commented.
Yuuto blinked. “What?”
Saki tilted her head toward the girl. “She’s been staring at you for the past fifteen minutes.”
Yuuto frowned, glancing over. “Oh. Her.”
Saki raised an eyebrow. “You know her?”
“No,” Yuuto muttered. “But she’s been showing up at gigs. And the café. And… other places.”
Saki smirked. “You’ve got yourself a stalker?”
Yuuto groaned. “It’s creepy.”
Saki, without missing a beat: “I think she’s cute.”
Yuuto whipped his head toward her, horrified.
“Who are you, and what did you do to my friend Saki?”
Saki just shrugged, looking far too entertained by his suffering.
Yuuto gave her an incredulous look. “No, seriously, are you feeling okay? Because the Saki I know would be making sarcastic remarks about my misfortune, not—” He waved a hand vaguely. “—calling my stalker cute.”
Saki smirked. “Maybe I’ve changed.”
Yuuto gasped dramatically. “Oh god, Satou has gotten to you.”
Saki kicked his leg under the table.
Yuuto yelped, rubbing his shin. “Noted. No more mentioning Satou.”
Saki smiled in victory—until she glanced toward the window and froze.
Yuuto immediately followed her gaze.
And that’s when they both saw Kyou.
Standing outside.
With Reiko.
* * *
Saki hated what she was seeing.
Maybe it was because Kyou was usually the most composed person she knew.
But right now?
Right now, he looked… hesitant.
Not uncomfortable. Not cold.
Just hesitant.
And that wasn’t like him.
Yuuto, of course, was the first to break the silence.
“Uh… is that Reiko?”
Saki’s jaw tensed slightly. “Yeah.”
Yuuto let out a low whistle. “Damn. He looks way too uncomfortable for this to be good news.”
Saki didn’t respond.
She just kept watching.
Because Kyou wasn’t pulling away.
He wasn’t saying no.
And she recognized that.
Because she had been the same way with Satou.
And she hated it.
* * *
Kyou could feel their eyes on him.
Even if he didn’t turn toward the café window, he knew that Saki and Yuuto were watching.
Reiko followed his line of sight and tilted her head. “Your friends seem to care a lot.”
Kyou hesitated before nodding. “Yeah.”
Reiko gave a small smile. “You never used to have people like that.”
Kyou didn’t answer.
Because she was right.
And maybe that was the problem.
The person he used to be—the one who had struggled to hold onto her, to make things work even when they weren’t working—that person wasn’t here anymore.
He had changed.
And he wasn’t sure if Reiko fit into this version of him.
But he still couldn’t say no.
Because part of him still cared.
And that was a problem.
* * *
Chapter 57: Unspoken Realizations
Kyou had spent years mastering the art of silence.
It was easier that way.
People expected words, explanations, things wrapped up neatly in sentences. But words were often unnecessary.
And yet, here he was, standing outside a café, struggling to say anything at all.
Because Reiko was still in front of him.
Because Saki and Yuuto were still inside, watching.
Because he still hadn’t given her an answer.
Reiko shifted slightly, as if sensing the weight of the moment. “You’re quiet.”
Kyou exhaled slowly. “I always am.”
She smiled, but it was different now—less sure, more searching. “Not with me.”
Kyou glanced past her for a moment, catching his own reflection in the café window.
And behind the glass—Saki and Yuuto were watching.
Reiko followed his gaze, her eyes softening. “They’re really your friends, huh?”
Kyou nodded. “Yeah.”
She smiled, tilting her head. “You never used to have people like that.”
He didn’t respond.
Because she was right.
And he wasn’t sure what that meant.
* * *
Yuuto had his arms crossed, watching the scene outside like it was a slow-motion car crash.
“Well, this is painful,” he muttered.
Saki didn’t respond.
Because she was still watching Kyou.
And she hated what she was seeing.
She wasn’t used to Kyou looking… hesitant.
It reminded her too much of herself with Satou.
Yuuto must have picked up on her mood because he nudged her foot under the table. “Relax. It’s Kyou.”
Saki gave him a dry look. “That’s the problem.”
Yuuto exhaled, leaning back in his chair. “Look, I don’t think he wants to go back to her.”
Saki raised an eyebrow. “Then why isn’t he saying no?”
Yuuto hesitated. “Because… I don’t think he knows how.”
Saki frowned but said nothing.
Because Yuuto was right.
Kyou wasn’t struggling because he still wanted Reiko.
He was struggling because he didn’t want to hurt her.
And that made this worse.
Much worse.
* * *
Reiko was still waiting.
Still standing there like there was something left between them, like the version of him that once fought for their relationship was still here.
But he wasn’t.
Not really.
He had changed.
And for the first time, he finally felt it.
“Reiko.” His voice came out quieter than he expected.
She looked at him, expectant.
He swallowed, the words forming before he could stop them.
“I can’t.”
Reiko’s smile faltered. “Can’t what?”
Kyou exhaled. “Go back.”
The silence between them stretched.
And in that moment, he knew—this was really over.
She searched his face, her eyes unreadable, before she finally gave him a small, almost sad smile.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “I figured.”
Kyou nodded.
It should have felt heavy.
But instead, it felt like relief.
Reiko took a step back, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “I’m glad you have them.”
Kyou blinked. “What?”
She gestured toward the café window, where Saki and Yuuto were still watching.
“You have people now, Kyou,” Reiko said simply. “I think that’s why this feels different.”
He didn’t answer.
Because she was right.
And for once, that didn’t bother him.
* * *
Yuuto leaned forward. “Oh. Oh. I think he just turned her down.”
Saki narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure?”
Yuuto smirked. “Well, unless they’re breaking up in extreme slow motion, I’d say yeah.”
Saki exhaled, finally letting go of the tension in her shoulders.
It wasn’t her business.
It shouldn’t have mattered.
But it did.
And she wasn’t sure why.
Yuuto stretched, shooting her a look. “You’re invested.”
Saki huffed. “I am not.”
Yuuto grinned. “You totally are.”
Saki rolled her eyes. “You’re annoying.”
“You’ve mentioned.”
Outside, Kyou finally stepped away from Reiko, turning toward the café.
And Saki didn’t know why, but the moment he walked inside, it felt like everything settled.
* * *
Chapter 58: Unspoken Conversations & Unfinished Business
The moment Kyou stepped inside the café, the weight of Reiko’s presence disappeared.
He wasn’t sure what he expected when he faced Saki and Yuuto.
Judgment? Questions?
But neither of them said anything.
Yuuto leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching him with mild curiosity but nothing too sharp.
Saki sipped her coffee, gaze unreadable, before tilting her head slightly.
And then—
“Done?” Yuuto asked, voice light, casual, as if Kyou had just finished a cigarette break and not ended something that once meant everything to him.
Kyou exhaled. “Yeah.”
Saki studied him for a beat longer before nodding slightly. “Good.”
That was it.
No interrogation. No unnecessary words.
Just quiet understanding.
Kyou wasn’t sure why, but that settled something in him.
* * *
The air between them felt normal again—or as normal as things ever were.
Kyou had just ended things with his ex.
Saki had just been reminded of her past.
Yuuto had just watched too much emotional weight happen in front of him.
Which meant it was time to change the subject.
“So, about my stalker—” he started, stretching his arms over his head.
Saki smirked over the rim of her coffee cup. “Fan.”
“Stalker,” Yuuto corrected.
Saki raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know that.”
Yuuto groaned. “She follows me. She stares. That’s a stalker.”
“Or a dedicated admirer,” Saki countered smoothly.
Kyou, who had remained silent until now, finally muttered, “You just want to see him suffer.”
Saki gave him an innocent look. “Who, me?”
Yuuto sighed dramatically. “I can’t believe this. I have a real-life stalker, and no one cares.”
Saki smirked. “Actually, let’s settle this.” She turned in her seat, eyes scanning the café before locking onto the girl.
Yuuto froze.
“Saki. Don’t,” he warned.
Too late.
Saki stood up and walked straight to the girl’s table.
Yuuto stared in horror. “Oh my god.”
Kyou, entirely unfazed, took a slow sip of his drink. “This is gonna be fun.”
* * *
Saki approached the girl’s table with her usual calm composure.
The girl, who had been nervously flipping through a book while occasionally stealing glances at Yuuto, looked startled when she saw Saki standing there.
“Hi,” Saki said smoothly. “I couldn’t help but notice that you seem… interested in my friend.”
The girl’s eyes widened in panic. “What? No—I mean—” She turned bright red.
Saki tilted her head. “You don’t have to lie. He’s kind of an idiot, but he’s decent.”
From across the room, Yuuto let out a strangled noise.
The girl fumbled with her words before finally exhaling in defeat. “…Is it that obvious?”
Saki smiled slightly. “Painfully.”
The girl groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Oh no.”
Saki pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “What’s your name?”
The girl hesitated before answering. “…Mika.”
Saki nodded. “Okay, Mika. Why do you keep showing up here?”
Mika bit her lip, glancing toward Yuuto before looking down at her book. “…I really like your band.”
Saki waited.
Mika sighed. “…And I think he’s cool.”
Saki smirked. There it is.
Yuuto, watching from his seat, looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.
* * *
Kyou, unlike Yuuto, was thoroughly entertained.
Saki had zero hesitation calling people out. It was one of her greatest strengths.
Yuuto, meanwhile, looked like he was physically dying.
Kyou leaned toward him, voice as dry as ever. “She’s cute.”
Yuuto whipped around. “Not you too.”
Kyou shrugged.
Yuuto groaned. “I hate both of you.”
Kyou nodded. “That’s fair.”
Saki was still talking to Mika, but Kyou’s gaze drifted away for a moment.
Because Saki’s phone had just lit up on the table.
A message from Satou.
Even without reading it, Kyou already knew.
And from the way Saki’s eyes flickered when she picked up her phone—she knew too.
She read the message, expression unreadable, before setting the phone back down without a word.
But Kyou saw it.
The weight creeping back into her shoulders.
And he already knew what the message said.
The deadline for the competition was coming up.
* * *
The second she saw Satou’s name on her screen, the noise in the café seemed to fade.
She had almost forgotten about it.
Almost.
But the past had a way of finding her, no matter how much she avoided it.
Her fingers hovered over the screen for a second before she put the phone back down.
She wasn’t dealing with this. Not right now.
Yuuto was still groaning about his admirer. Kyou was watching her in that way he always did—like he saw through everything.
Saki exhaled, shaking off the tension.
This wasn’t her problem.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
* * *
Chapter 60: Lingering Shadows & Unexpected Encounters
The gig had gone well.
Their sound was tight, the crowd was engaged, and Aya even gave him a rare nod of approval—which, from her, was practically an award.
Yuuto should have been basking in post-show satisfaction.
Instead, he was dealing with Mika. Again.
She was waiting near the exit, looking slightly nervous but determined.
Saki spotted her first and nudged Yuuto, far too amused. “Your fan is here.”
Yuuto groaned. “She’s not my fan.”
Saki raised an eyebrow. “Then what would you call her?”
Yuuto sighed, rubbing his face. “A persistent inconvenience?”
Kyou, standing nearby, took a slow sip of his drink. “Romantic.”
Saki smirked. “Right?”
Before Yuuto could fire back a retort, Mika noticed them and quickly approached.
Yuuto braced himself.
“Hey, um…” Mika hesitated before looking straight at him. “You were great tonight.”
Yuuto blinked.
He had been expecting something more aggressive—like a sudden confession or an awkward gift.
Instead, she just stood there, looking genuinely nervous.
“…Thanks,” he said, a little off guard.
Mika smiled slightly. “I, um… I don’t want to bother you. But I just wanted to say that.”
Yuuto glanced at Saki, who was watching the exchange like it was the best entertainment she’d seen all week.
He turned back to Mika, shifting awkwardly. “Uh. Appreciate it.”
Mika hesitated but nodded, giving him a quick bow before stepping back.
“I’ll be at your next gig,” she said before walking off.
Yuuto stared after her, slightly stunned.
Saki let out a low whistle. “Wow. That was… unexpectedly wholesome.”
Yuuto groaned. “Shut up.”
Kyou smirked. “She’s cute.”
Yuuto shot him a glare. “Not you too.”
Saki folded her arms, looking far too smug. “So… are you gonna talk to her next time?”
Yuuto didn’t answer.
Because he wasn’t sure yet.
* * *
Kyou had expected Reiko to walk away after their last conversation.
And yet, she was still there.
Not forcing herself into his life.
Not trying to rekindle anything outright.
Just… lingering.
He spotted her near the back of the venue, casually leaning against the bar, watching the night unfold.
When their eyes met, she didn’t look away.
Instead, she lifted her drink slightly, as if acknowledging him from a distance.
Kyou exhaled, shoving his hands into his pockets.
He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even frustrated.
But he also wasn’t entirely comfortable.
Because Reiko was still here.
And he wasn’t sure why.
* * *
Saki had barely registered Mika and Yuuto’s interaction when another familiar face caught her attention.
Satou.
He was near the stage, speaking with one of the venue staff.
When he turned and caught sight of her, his expression shifted—pleasant, but knowing.
Saki resisted the urge to sigh.
She should have known he’d come back.
Satou made his way over, effortlessly slipping into casual conversation. “You didn’t text me back.”
Saki crossed her arms. “Didn’t know I needed to.”
Satou chuckled. “It’s a deadline, not a suggestion.”
Saki gave him a flat look.
Satou raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not here to pressure you.”
“Then why are you here?”
He shrugged, leaning slightly against the wall. “Your band’s good.”
Saki narrowed her eyes. “It’s not my band.”
Satou tilted his head. “You’re playing with them, aren’t you?”
Saki exhaled, feeling the familiar pressure settle into her chest.
Satou didn’t push, but he didn’t have to.
Just his presence was a reminder that this was still unresolved.
The competition.
The past.
The version of herself she wasn’t sure she could face again.
Saki turned slightly, catching a glimpse of Kyou watching Reiko.
And suddenly, she understood his hesitation.
Sometimes, the past doesn’t demand to be confronted.
Sometimes, it just lingers—waiting.
And whether or not she stepped toward it…
That was up to her.
* * *
Chapter 61: Unfinished Conversations
Yuuto wasn’t thinking about Mika.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
He wasn’t thinking about how she didn’t throw herself at him.
Or how she didn’t try to force a conversation.
Or how she just said what she wanted to say and left.
It was weird.
Because Yuuto had met plenty of people who were forward, but they always wanted something.
Mika, though?
She wasn’t asking for anything.
She was just there.
And that was almost more unsettling.
Saki noticed, of course.
She leaned back in her chair at the café, stirring her coffee lazily. “You’re thinking about her.”
Yuuto scoffed. “I am not.”
Saki smirked. “You totally are.”
Kyou, flipping through a photography book at the next table, muttered, “Obsessed.”
Yuuto turned sharply. “Okay, first of all—”
Saki and Kyou both just looked at him.
Yuuto groaned. “I hate this.”
Saki grinned. “You love this.”
Yuuto absolutely did not.
…But maybe he wasn’t as annoyed as he should have been.
* * *
Kyou had expected Reiko to let go after their last conversation.
And yet, she still lingered.
Not in an obvious way.
Not in a way that demanded anything from him.
But she wasn’t gone.
He saw her again a few nights later, outside the café. She wasn’t looking for him, but she was there.
Just like before.
Kyou didn’t approach.
And neither did she.
It was an odd standoff—neither of them moving, neither of them acknowledging what was happening.
She had been the one to leave.
She had been the one to say he wasn’t enough.
And now?
Now she wasn’t saying anything at all.
Kyou didn’t know what to make of that.
So he did what he always did.
He said nothing.
And left first.
* * *
Saki had been staring at her phone for the past twenty minutes.
The message from Satou was still unread.
She could hear Yuuto and Kyou’s banter at the next table, their usual back-and-forth filling the space.
But in the back of her mind—
The competition deadline loomed.
She sighed, finally unlocking her phone.
Satou’s message was simple.
“You have until Friday. After that, the spot’s gone.”
Saki exhaled.
She had three days.
And no idea what to do.
She looked across the table at Kyou and Yuuto, still locked in their nonsense argument.
She didn’t want to bring it up.
Didn’t want to hear Kyou’s sharp observations that always cut too deep.
And surprisingly, she didn’t want to hear Yuuto telling her it was okay not to do it.
Because he would.
Yuuto had been the one who told Satou that she didn’t have to prove anything.
If she told him she wasn’t doing it, he wouldn’t fight her.
He wouldn’t push.
And that was almost worse.
Because if no one pushed her…
Then this choice was entirely on her.
And that was terrifying.
* * *
Chapter 62: The Music That Never Left
The café had emptied out.
Chairs were stacked, the lingering smell of coffee still clung to the air, and the faint hum of the city outside filled the silence.
Everyone had gone home.
But Saki stayed.
She hadn’t planned to, but when the owner asked her if she could lock up that night.
Her fingers hovered over the piano keys, hesitating.
It had been so long since she had played without expectation—without someone watching, without feeling like she had something to prove.
She wasn’t even sure why she was still here.
But before she could stop herself, she played.
First, something familiar—a classical piece she knew by heart, one she hadn’t touched in years.
And then…
Her song.
The one that had started it all.
The melody flowed from her fingertips, hesitant at first, but then—it found her again.
Like it had been waiting.
And suddenly, Saki wasn’t here anymore.
She was twelve years old, playing in the living room while her mother hummed along in the kitchen.
She was sixteen, sitting at a grand piano in a concert hall, her father watching proudly from the audience.
She was eighteen, frozen in time, losing everything in one night.
Saki squeezed her eyes shut, but the music didn’t stop.
For the first time in years, she allowed herself to feel it.
The grief. The fear. The guilt.
She had pushed music away because she thought she had to.
She had buried it, convinced that it belonged to a life that no longer existed.
But here, now—
It was still hers.
Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind, warm and certain.
“Music will always be yours, Saki. No matter what happens.“
Her father’s quiet encouragement, the way he used to ruffle her hair and say, “Just play, sweetheart.”
Saki’s hands trembled on the keys.
And suddenly, she understood.
She hadn’t lost music.
She had been the one running from it.
* * *
Kyou had come back for his camera.
That was all.
He hadn’t expected to hear that melody again.
The same one from the night they met.
The same one that had lingered in his mind like a ghost.
Saki’s song.
He stopped in the doorway, frozen.
She hadn’t noticed him.
She was completely lost in the music, her fingers moving across the keys like she had never stopped playing.
And for the first time, Kyou saw her completely unguarded.
No sarcasm.
No forced indifference.
No walls.
Just Saki and her music.
The realization hit him before he could stop it.
She was on his mind a lot.
Too much.
And it wasn’t like before—not like it had been with Reiko.
Reiko had always wanted him to be more.
Saki just existed, and he found himself gravitating toward her anyway.
Kyou exhaled slowly, watching the way her expression softened as she played.
Why do I care so much?
The answer didn’t come.
And maybe he wasn’t ready for it yet.
But as he watched Saki play, he knew one thing for certain—
He couldn’t look away.
* * *
Diary of A Chaotic Dreamer 
Leave a comment