Chapter Text
The rain fell in a steady mist, blurring the neon signs that lit the narrow alley. It looked dreary except for the warm light spilling out from the open-front izakaya. It was a cozy little place hidden away from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo.
Aira sat at the wooden counter, half-focused on her plate of yakitori, the scent of grilled meat and soy sauce curling comfortingly around her. A mostly empty glass of beer to the side. She liked this place. It was quiet, familiar, and hidden enough where she didn’t have to worry about running into old ghosts.
Which was exactly why her heart skipped when she heard a familiar voice. She glanced up — and froze.
Okarun.
The years hadn't changed him much. His hair was a bit longer, still a mess, his jacket soaked at the shoulders. He was scanning the room for a seat, his sneakers squeaking awkwardly on the floor.
For half a second, instinct kicked in. She actually considered sliding down under the counter and pretending she wasn't there.
Too late.
Their eyes met. His face lit up with a startled, helpless kind of smile. It was the exact one she'd always hated that she liked.
"Miss Shiratori," he said, voice half-disbelieving.
Aira sighed dramatically and took a long sip of her beer. "Great. Just what I needed to ruin my night."
Still smiling, Okarun slipped onto the empty stool beside her. The counter wasn’t that crowded. There was enough room on the other side, but of course he chose this spot. His jacket brushed her arm, rain-damp and warm underneath.
"You look..." he started, then fumbled it into a cough. "Different. In a good way."
Aira raised an eyebrow at him. "You've gotten better at lying, at least."
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.
The pink-haired girl laughed too, even if she didn’t plan it.
“It’s good to see you, Takakura.”
Okarun ducked his head, a sheepish grin pulling at his lips. “Yeah. You too.”
For a beat, they sat in the soft clatter of chopsticks and quiet conversations around them, the tension thinning just enough to breathe.
He flagged the bartender for a beer, and when the glass landed in front of him with a satisfying clink, he raised it toward her in a half-hearted toast. "To old ghosts," he said, voice teasing but with a thread of something else underneath.
Aira clinked her glass against his, smirking. "Speak for yourself. I'm very much alive."
They drank, shoulders brushing lightly every time someone squeezed behind them at the counter. It would’ve been easy to fall back into old rhythms, but Aira knew better now. People changed. Some disappeared.
"So," she said, swirling the last of her beer. "Where's your partner in crime? Haven't seen her in years."
She said it casually, as if it didn’t matter, but she watched him closely over the rim of her glass.
Okarun hesitated, the smile slipping a little. He scratched at a spot behind his ear, a tell she remembered all too well.
"Momo’s... doing her own thing," he said finally. "Different path. Different city."
Aira raised an eyebrow, letting the words settle. She could tell from the way he said it, it had been anything but easy.
"Sounds complicated," she said, tossing a piece of grilled chicken into her mouth.
He huffed a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "You could say that."
Another silence bloomed between them, but this time it felt different. Less awkward. More, well just more.
"You?" he asked after a moment, nudging her lightly with his elbow. "Still terrorizing anyone who gets too close?"
Aira snorted. "Please. I’m a model citizen now. Pay my taxes, if I have to.. Water my plants. Help people when they need help, and if they’re nice."
He laughed, a real laugh this time, and the sound cracked something open inside her she hadn’t realized was still holding on.
The rain outside thickened into a steady downpour, the alley blurring into silver and gray. Inside, the izakaya buzzed gently with the low hum of conversation, the clink of plates and glasses.
Okarun caught the bartender’s eye and held up two fingers. “Another beer and some hot sake?” he asked Aira, half-offering.
She shrugged like it didn’t matter, but her lips twitched. “If you’re buying.”
The fresh beer arrived with a thud and the sake in a small clay flask, already steaming. They poured in silence. The warmth crept into their hands, their shoulders. The space between them tightened just a little more.
Okarun leaned forward, elbows on the counter, fingers circling the base of his glass.
“I saw Jiji the other day,” he said suddenly. “Ran into him near Shinjuku. We talked for a few minutes. It was weird. I didn’t know how much I missed him until I heard his voice again.”
Aira’s smile froze. She picked up a skewer and bit into it a little too hard. “Huh.”
He looked over, catching the shift in her posture — the flicker of something sharp in her eyes.
“You two still talk?” he asked carefully.
She took a long sip of her beer before answering. “Not really.”
And that was it. Final. Short. It was a very polite way of asking him not to continue this train of thought.
Okarun didn’t push. He nodded, staring down into his sake like it held answers he didn’t want to say aloud.
They sat like that for a while. Quiet, but not silent. Sharing space in a way that was tentative, nostalgic, and heavy with things unspoken.
Aira tapped the rim of her empty beer glass, her other hand drumming impatient fingers against the counter. She shifted like she was about to get up, jacket sliding off the back of her stool, but then she hesitated, fingers curling around the worn wood instead.
Okarun watched her, something flickering behind his eyes. He set his own glass down with a soft thud.
"You thinking about running off?" he asked, voice light but edged with something quieter, more careful.
Aira glanced at him, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Maybe. Maybe I’ve got better things to do than babysit a drowned rat like you."
He chuckled, leaning his elbow on the counter, chin propped in his hand as he studied her. "You always said that," he said softly. "But you never did leave."
The words hung between them, warmer than the sake on her breath, heavier than the thunder clouds circling above.
Aira’s smirk faltered for just a second. She snatched her jacket, slinging it over her shoulder with a shrug. "Well. Maybe I'm getting smarter."
But she didn’t leave. Not right away. Not even when she stood and glanced toward the street.
Okarun didn’t push. He just smiled that lopsided, maddeningly patient smile and said, almost shy, "I’m not in a rush. If you feel like staying a little longer."
That was just the thing about him
Aira felt the words bubbling up before she could stop them.
"You busy?" she asked, affecting a careless tone. "Or just wandering around like a lost puppy again?"
Okarun blinked, startled, then gave her a slow grin. "Depends. You offering to rescue me, Miss Shiratori?"
She rolled her eyes, but her chest tightened painfully. "Don't get excited. Just thought it'd be sad if you drowned out there like a dumbass."
She threw a few bills on the counter and jerked her chin toward the rain-slicked street. Her hand brushed his shoulder, and it was not quite an accident, as she stepped past him toward the exit.
Behind her, she heard the scrape of his stool, quick footsteps catching up.
Outside, the city hissed and steamed under the rain, and Aira popped open her small umbrella, barely big enough for one.
Okarun lingered under the awning, water dripping from his hair, hesitant. Waiting for her to say it.
She glanced back, smirking despite the sudden pounding in her chest. "Well? You gonna stand there and cry, or what?"
He laughed. It was a real, low laugh that tightened something inside her, and then he ducked under the umbrella beside her, their shoulders brushing as naturally as breathing.
For a while, they just walked together like this. Close, warm, quiet. The city fading away around them until it turned into a warm buzz.
And somewhere between the mist and the steady tap of rain on the umbrella, Aira felt it rise again.
Fuck.
That stupid, stubborn feeling she thought she'd outgrown.
She shoved her free hand into her pocket, squeezing it into a fist. She wasn't the reckless girl she used to be. She wasn't supposed to feel like this anymore.
But some things, unlike certain cities and memories, didn’t fade, no matter how far you ran.
"You know," she said, voice rougher than she meant it to be, "I used to think I’d forget about you eventually."
Okarun slowed beside her, the rain hissing around them.
"And?" he asked, almost afraid to breathe.
She blew out a breath, and looked down, at their shuffling feet.
"Guess I was wrong."