Chapter Text
🩷
The first signs of autumn whisper gently outside Taiga’s window, the leaves adopting a fiery hue, painting the city in a palette of warm colors. But inside Taiga’s room, everything remains in the crisp shade of white, with a contrasting deep navy-blue headboard on his queen-sized bed. His blackout curtains shut out the morning light, giving the room a soft, muted glow.
The alarm clock on the bedside table blinks to 6:00 am, and with a reluctant groan, Taiga sits up. His glasses, sitting atop a small pile of books, are the first thing he reaches for.
He throws the blankets off and walks over to his wardrobe. The clothes hanging there are as predictable as the sunrise: blacks, whites, grays — an understated collection.
It’s not about being fashionable, Taiga muses. It’s about blending in.
He recalls Shintaro’s playful jibes about his monochrome choices. “Ever thought of introducing a splash of color, Taiga?”
But why would he? Taiga’s work speaks volumes, not his wardrobe. Plus, there’s the whole thing about his “pretty face” drawing more attention than he’s comfortable with.
Selecting a white dress shirt and a charcoal gray tailored suit, he dresses quickly.
His mind shifts to breakfast, and he decides on a pre-made egg sandwich. Efficiency. He smiles to himself as he places it in the microwave.
But as the machine hums, a sudden thought strikes him. The date on the calendar flashes brightly in his mind.
One year. It’s been exactly a year since he and Jesse broke up. That unmistakable pain surges again, the very one he’s been trying to suppress.
Why did everything go so wrong? Was it that vacation where I wanted some alone time, and he took it personally? Or the time I forgot his birthday because of a case?
Memories flood in, and he can vividly remember Jesse’s face, the hurt in his eyes, the misunderstandings that piled over time. The comforting hum of the microwave becomes a distant sound as he dives deeper into his thoughts.
Suddenly, the piercing beep of the microwave brings him back to the present. He blinks, realizing he’s been lost in thought, and checks the clock. Panic sets in.
I’m late!
In his rush, Taiga grabs the sandwich, now hotter than he’d like, almost burning his fingers. He barely tastes it as he wolfs it down, still haunted by the bittersweet memories of his past with Jesse.
With a last glance at his reflection, ensuring every hair strand is in place and his attire impeccable, he reminds himself that he’s supposed to have moved on by now.
Today’s a new day, he reminds himself, stepping out of his apartment.
The mediation is a beacon of tranquility in the city’s bustling heart. Its calm exterior invites passersby to explore the sanctuary within. The moment Taiga steps inside, the comforting ambiance envelops him like a familiar hug. The nature-inspired décor reminds him of why he chose this profession — a constant journey of navigating people through their turbulent waters to find harmony.
Taiga’s workspace is a personal haven, radiating a sense of serenity. As he settles down, he can’t help but feel at peace. The soft potted plants on his desk sway gently, greeting him. He brushes his fingers over the photos on the corkboard — cherished memories of happier times, some featuring Jesse.
Arranging his notepad and colored pens, he takes a moment to breathe deeply, inhaling the calming scent that fills the room. The gentle instrumental music playing in the background only adds to his grounded state.
But just as Taiga begins to settle into his morning ritual, the door creaks open, revealing a grinning Shintaro. “Morning, Mr. Monochrome,” he teases.
“Hey, Shin,” Taiga replies with a wry smile. “Planning to distract me from work again?”
Shintaro chuckles, plopping down on Taiga’s cozy chair. “Just checking in. Big day today?”
Taiga scans his schedule. “A couple of challenging sessions lined up. You?”
“Same.” Shintaro shrugs. “But I know you’ll ace them.”
Their playful banter continues for a few more minutes, setting the tone for a productive day. After all, having his best friend as his co-worker always uplifts Taiga’s spirits.
Soon, it’s time for Taiga’s first mediation session. Gently ushering the involved parties into the room, Taiga emphasizes the principles of the process.
“Remember, this is a safe space. It’s all about understanding and collaboration,” he assures them.
The divorcing couple sits across the table. Their faces reflect a complex mix of sorrow, anger, and hope. Starting these sessions is never easy, but Taiga’s goal always guides him — understanding, empathizing, and aiming to resolve.
As they begin to speak, the weight of their pain fills the room. Words of regret, blame, and unmet expectations flow. At one point, the wife’s statement mirrors an argument Taiga had with Jesse.
“Why didn’t you understand, Jesse? Why did every little thing have to become a battle?”
The recollection of Jesse’s hurt eyes, the strain in their voices, and their inability to bridge the emotional gap washes over him. But just as swiftly as the memory engulfs him, Taiga pulls himself back, drawing on his professional training to remain anchored.
He listens, responds, and guides, doing his utmost to ensure the session remains on track. The words exchanged in the room may not belong to his personal narrative, but they serve as a reminder of his own unresolved past. Yet, today is not about him. It’s about helping others navigate their own stories.
The aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling garlic wafts through the air as Taiga and Shintaro step into the chic restaurant, were soft jazz adds a warm ambiance. They’re quickly seated at a cozy corner table, framed by ambient candlelight and sleek, modern décor. A sense of ease settles between the two friends, a quiet camaraderie they’ve shared since high school.
Shintaro, always the talkative one, excitedly discusses a new mediation technique he learned. Taiga listens intently, nodding occasionally. But as is typical of Taiga, his internal thoughts dominate. He wonders how Shintaro manages to stay so upbeat even after a draining day of settling conflicts between people.
Just as Shintaro is about to delve into another intriguing point, two familiar chimes sound in unison. They reach for their phones, scanning the new email’s content. The restaurant’s soft lighting reveals their contrasting expressions: Shintaro’s eyes brighten with excitement, while Taiga’s face masks an internal struggle.
“High school reunion?!” Shintaro exclaims. “Man, I can’t believe it’s been ten years.”
Taiga fidgets, recalling not-so-fond memories of high school. “I don’t know, Shin,” he says hesitantly. “I wasn’t exactly the life of the party back then.”
Shintaro leans back, studying Taiga with a discerning eye. “I remember,” he says gently. “But there were also those who stood up for you. Don’t forget them.”
He’s right, Taiga thinks, reflecting on those moments of solidarity. Then, he’s drawn back to the memories of the peer mediation club, and he can’t suppress a smile. “Remember when you practically kidnapped me into joining that club?”
Shintaro grins. “Guilty as charged. But look where it got you!” He gestures at their surroundings. “We’re doing the same thing in high school, but we’re getting paid! Really well, I might add.”
They both share a laugh.
Shintaro takes a deep breath. “I get it if you don’t want to go, Taiga. People change, but memories linger. But who knows? This reunion could be different.”
Can I truly face them after all this time? What would they think of me now? Taiga wonders.
Looking back, Taiga doesn’t think his high school life wasn’t that terrible. He had always done his best to lie low and blend in, because his looks had caused him enough trouble when he was in grade school. He became friends with Shintaro, discovered that maybe helping classmates get along is his life passion, and got along with his classmates.
But, you know, some events tend to stick with you. One misunderstanding was enough for Taiga to retreat to his shell. Still, Taiga remembers the people who stood up for him. He wonders what they’re doing now …
The mood grows introspective for a few moments as the two dine. Shintaro respects Taiga’s space, giving him the time to think.
Finishing their meal, they get ready to leave. Taiga finally speaks up. “I think … I think I’ll go.”
Shintaro raises an eyebrow, a hint of surprise evident. “Really?”
Taiga nods. “Yeah. Just … Maybe I’ll just drop by for a couple of hours, read the room. And if things get uncomfortable, I could always leave, right?”
Shintaro grins. “Okay.” He reaches out to pat Taiga’s arm reassuringly. “Either way, I got your back.”
🖤
The light slanting through the gap in Hokuto’s curtains signals the start of another day. The soft hues of the morning paint the neutral palette of his room, with the deep blue bedspread absorbing the golden light. He takes a moment, drawing a deep breath and appreciating the tranquility.
After a few minutes of meditation — a habit he’s recently tried to instill — he stretches, allowing the energy to course through him. His routine exercises are swift and efficient, as most things are in his life. He’s all about strategy and efficiency.
Walking into the kitchen, Hokuto whips up an antioxidant-rich smoothie. Mid-sip, his phone vibrates. Notifications. The social media world doesn’t wait.
His latest post, a slick display of the newest fashion line he’s collaborating with, is a hit. Comments flood in, fans praising the elegance and asking for tips. Hokuto taps back, answering with brevity but always ensuring a touch of warmth.
Work mode on, he drifts towards his workspace, the desk bathed in sunlight. Sketches of outfits, script notes for styling tips, plans for upcoming videos; the organized chaos is both a passion and a profession.
Yet, somewhere between jotting ideas and reading messages, a cloud covers Hokuto’s mental sun.
Two months.
It’s been two months since Juri packed his bags, his voice echoing accusations.
“You never make time!”
The pain feels raw, even now. But wasn’t Juri’s new job at the design studio also demanding? Maybe it was Hokuto’s workaholic habits, his tireless ambition, or maybe it was Juri’s own piling workload.
Either way, they drifted.
Maybe we both just focused too much on work, he muses, running a hand through my hair.
The vibrant art on his digital frame shifts, perhaps mirroring his own flux of emotions. A silhouette of two figures, close but not touching.
Another buzz. A message from Alice.
“Lunch before our consultation? 🍜” it reads.
Hokuto chuckles. Alice always had a way of grounding him, pulling him out of his spirals, whether knowingly or not. He quickly types back.
“Sounds good, usual spot?”
A playful chime sounds as Hokuto steps into the restaurant, instantly hit with the comforting aroma of whatever is cooking in the kitchen. The bright lights are a refreshing departure from most places of its caliber. There’s no imposing grandeur, no starched tablecloths, just a warmth that reminds me of home.
He spots Alice, waving enthusiastically from a corner table. “Always early, huh?” he chuckles as he slides into the seat across from her.
She beams. “Always! Besides, I’ve already ordered our usual.”
The memory washes over Hokuto of the countless times they’d celebrated our little victories right here. When they had registered the business, they decided to have dinner to celebrate, and this was the place that was closest to their budget. They could afford more luxurious restaurants, but this place will always have a sentimental value.
Their conversation swiftly turns to work, discussing collaborations and planning shoots. But a simultaneous chime from their phones interrupts them.
Hokuto squints at the screen — an invitation for their high school reunion two weeks from now. His stomach does a little flip. There’s excitement, sure, but also an undeniable dread. What if Juri is there?
He can see the gears turning in Alice’s mind, too. She leans forward. “You’re thinking about Juri, aren’t you?”
He sighs, swirling the drink in his glass. “Seeing him after … everything. I don’t know if I can.”
Alice nods, understanding in her eyes. “You know, I doubt you’ll even see him when we have so many people to remember. Remember Morimoto? He could light up a room with just one joke.”
Hokuto laughs. “Oh, I remember he’s friends with Kyomoto! Opposites in every way. I always wondered how they managed to stay friends.”
“They probably still are. Look, Juri was in a different section anyway. There are so many people to catch up with, Hokuto. Don’t let one person hold you back.”
Just then, their order arrives. It’s a deep-fried chicken wing gyoza stuffed with glutinous rice. Playful, familiar, yet uniquely upscale.
As Hokuto watches Alice burst into laughter, a flood of memories fills his mind.
It was in high school, amidst the chaos of assignments and hormonal teenage angst, that he met her. Alice Hirose. Her name, like her spirit, was enchanting and captivating. That vivacious girl, always with a camera hanging around her neck, introduced Hokuto to a world far from the traditional confines of Hokuto’s upbringing. The world of fashion, makeup, and the transformative power of artistry.
He remembers the way she would critique fashion magazines, her eyes scanning the pages with a mixture of admiration and contemplation. Her adventurous spirit was infectious, prompting Hokuto to experiment with outfits and delve into the world of cosmetics. Their classmates would often jest, teasing them about their unbreakable bond. Yet, despite the gossip and whispers of romance, our relationship was built on a foundation of friendship.
(Besides, Alice started dating a college boy when the teasing started, effectively shutting everyone up.)
Hokuto takes a deep breath, looking around the restaurant, then back at Alice. “About the reunion,” he begins. “Thanks. For reminding me there’s more than just Juri.”
Alice reaches over, squeezing his hand. “Hey, who knows? Maybe you’ll find a rebound among the classmates,” she teases, winking.
He laughs, feeling lighter than he has in weeks. “Only if you promise to be my wing woman.”
She raises her glass. “Always, Hokuto. Always.”
The comforting hum of Hokuto’s laptop signals another task completed. He’s always loved the end-of-day quiet, the soft cocoon of my living room with its muted grays and pops of deep blues. He saves his work, stretches, and feels a smug satisfaction flood over me.
Another productive day in the books, he thinks.
After closing the laptop, Hokuto strides across the room, passing by is desk, which stands near the window. The orange hue of sunset spills through the blinds, casting a soft, warm glow on the mix of classic and modern furniture. As he makes his way to the bathroom, his thoughts drift.
The warm water fills the tub, releasing steam that fogs up the bathroom mirror. As he lowers himself into the bath, the silky water engulfs him, relaxing tense muscles and soothing his mind. After a long soak, he pats his skin dry and applies his skincare regimen methodically.
Pulling on his silk pajamas, the texture feels like a gentle caress against his skin. With a sigh, he steps back into his living room, letting the ambient lighting set the mood. Soft music begins to flow from the speakers, its melody wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.
Hokuto’s gaze falls upon the half-finished jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table, Van Gogh’s “Starry Night”. It was a follower’s gift to him after he revealed in a Q&A session that he likes solving jigsaw puzzles, particularly those with minimalist art. Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” is anything but minimalist, but Hokuto appreciates the gift anyway.
He smiles as he recalls how his love for puzzles began. It was his parents who introduced them to him, a way to engage the strategic thinking of their introverted son.
Ah, parents.
The thought of them brings a pang of guilt. Ever since Hokuto decided to pivot from his expected path of educational psychology, their conversations have dwindled to a minimum. He can’t really blame them; their family has always been rooted in academia, and his choice seemed like a stark deviation.
I wonder if they’d be proud of where I am now?
As he places another piece into the puzzle, his mind drifts to the upcoming high school reunion. The potential run-in with Juri.
It’s been two months, but the gaping void he left still aches.
Three years. Three years of intertwined lives, shared dreams, and deep connection, now reduced to fleeting memories and lingering ‘what ifs’. The way he ended things, blaming Hokuto for not spending enough time together, still stings.
A mischievous idea flits through his mind.
Maybe, just maybe, I can make him regret his decision.
The reunion could be the perfect setting. Hokuto would turn up, have a great time. Make Juri see what he left behind.
And perhaps, if the opportunity presents, he might just indulge in a harmless flirt here and there.
Grinning at the thought, his fingers pick up speed. Before he knows it, the puzzle is complete.
Hokuto grabs his phone and without hesitation, tap ‘accept’ on the reunion invite.