Ayaka sat tucked into her favorite corner booth, her fingers dancing across the keyboard with practiced ease, eyes locked on the glowing monitor.
She didn't notice her friends followed her and called Takeshi and Makoto as well since she's been ignoring them.
The chaotic sounds of her favorite RPG filled her ears—sword clashes, spell incantations, monster growls—and it was all she needed to drown everything out.
It had always been her sanctuary.
The place she escaped to when the world felt like too much.
And today, after everything with Akihiko… it felt like she was drowning in it.
She didn't even notice the bell ring above the cafe entrance.
"Ayaka." Yuki whispered as she approached.
"She's in that zone." Keiko said, arms crossed beside her.
Takeshi stood behind them, sighing. "And this is why I tried calling her before she entered the dungeon."
Keiko waved her hand in front of Ayaka's face. "Earth to Ayaka. Hello?"
No response.
"She's gone." Yuki muttered. "Game mode Ayaka has taken over."
Takeshi rubbed his temples, glancing toward the counter. "Mr. Tanaka..." he called. "Please tell me there's a way to eject her from the matrix."
"She paid for four hours!" Tanaka replied cheerfully. "She's got another three and a half to go."
Just then, the door opened again with a chime.
Makoto stepped in, looking freshly pressed, casual yet effortlessly striking in a cream knit and tailored slacks.
His eyes scanned the cafe—and landed on her.
"Ayaka..." he called softly, walking up to her with a hesitant smile.
No reply.
He stepped closer. "I brought your favorite snack from that bakery near your office." he said gently, placing the bag beside her mousepad. "You haven't been eating lately."
Nothing.
Makoto crouched beside her, his voice lower now. "I know you're hurting. And I know he's back. But I'm not giving up on you."
Ayaka's lips twitched, but not in acknowledgment.
Just another command input.
Keiko winced. "Oof. That's rough."
Makoto's eyes dimmed, just slightly.
But he stood, composed as always.
Takeshi watched it all from a few feet away, jaw tight.
He pulled out his phone and stepped into the hallway.
A brief pause.
Then a call.
"She's here." He said. "Still running. I think you're the only one who can reach her now."
Not even ten minutes passed before the door flung open.
Akihiko's presence filled the room like a cold breeze on a too-warm day—sharp, startling, and impossible to ignore.
Yuki gasped. "He really came…"
Makoto's shoulders stiffened.
Akihiko said nothing as he approached her station.
He didn't glance at anyone else.
His eyes were fixed on the girl clicking and typing like the world didn't exist beyond that screen.
Then, a soft but pointed voice cut through the noise.
"Ayaka."
No response.
Akihiko's tone dropped to a lazy drawl. "Do you want me to carry you like a princess again?"
Ayaka's fingers paused.
Just for half a second.
But she resumed again, stubbornly.
Akihiko's eyes narrowed.
"Fine."
Before anyone could stop him, he leaned down, scooped her into his arms in one fluid, practiced motion.
"What—Akihiko! Put me down! You always do this!" Ayaka's headset fell askew, finally snapping her back to reality.
Her legs kicked lightly as she tried to resist. "I'm not going with you like this!"
"You weren't listening, again." He said, voice low near her ear. "So I had to make you."
Yuki let out a squeal. "Am I dreaming or has this happened already in the past?"
Keiko elbowed her. "It did and it's happening again..."
Makoto stood completely still, the bakery bag still in his hand.
His jaw clenched, fingers tightening.
"So this is my rival…" he murmured under his breath, heart sinking. "No wonder she couldn't hear me."
Ayaka's fists beat lightly against Akihiko's chest. "You're insane!"
"Maybe." he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "But I'm not letting you go again."
And with that, Akihiko carried her out of the cafe, the door swinging shut behind them, leaving her stunned friends and a quietly heartbroken Makoto in their wake.
"I guess the Ice Prince is really back, huh?" Keiko muttered, a mixture of disbelief and exasperated amusement lacing her tone as she glanced over her shoulder.
Her words hung in the air like a spark ready to ignite, and Yuki—arms crossed and brows furrowed—let out a sharp sigh as she massaged her temples with both hands, as though trying to physically rub away the stress Ayaka constantly seemed to bring with her.
"At least he managed to pull Ayaka out of the gaming zone… again." Yuki muttered, her voice heavy with a blend of frustration and reluctant admiration.
"Seriously, that girl gets sucked into a fantasy world faster than anyone I know."
Keiko let out a breathy laugh, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Well, looks like we'll have to count on Dr. Nakamura again to keep her grounded."
Her lips twisted into a smirk as she shook her head. "Honestly, it's like trying to leash a thunderstorm. Good luck to him."
With that final remark, the two women shared a knowing look—half weary, half entertained—before turning toward the doors.
The echo of their heels tapped against the corridor tiles as they disappeared down the hallway, leaving the air heavy with all the things left unsaid.
Silence settled in their wake, but it wasn't empty.
Not at all.
Takeshi remained behind, standing beside Makoto, who looked strangely still—too composed, like he was keeping something tightly coiled beneath the surface.
There was an edge in his jawline, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
Takeshi broke the silence first, tilting his head slightly toward Makoto.
"You want to grab some drinks?" he asked, his voice low, but steady—almost cautious.
Makoto's response was delayed by a heartbeat, his gaze distant for just a moment longer before he blinked, turned, and nodded once.
"Sure." he said, voice cool, deceptively calm. But there was a tension beneath it, like a violin string pulled taut, waiting for the next note—or to snap.
And so the two men walked off, the quiet between them thick with unspoken thoughts.
Neither mentioned Ayaka, or the Ice Prince, or the swirling emotions that clung to every word spoken that night.
But it lingered.
It always did.
------
The bar was dimly lit, bathed in a soft amber glow that flickered against the bottles lined neatly on the shelves.
The low hum of jazz played in the background, mingling with the quiet murmur of conversations and the occasional clink of glasses.
Takeshi and Makoto settled into a booth in the corner, far enough from the rest of the crowd to speak freely, but close enough to feel the pulse of the city around them.
Takeshi swirled the amber liquid in his glass before taking a sip, then glanced at Makoto, whose expression had yet to soften since they walked in.
"You're awfully quiet." Takeshi said, setting his glass down with a soft thud.
Makoto leaned back, his fingers tapping against the rim of his untouched drink. "I'm waiting." he said simply.
"For what?"
"For you to say what you really brought me here to say."
Takeshi chuckled under his breath, eyes briefly darting toward the ceiling as if gathering the right words. "Alright. You want honesty? Fine. It's about Ayaka."
Makoto's green eyes flickered—just for a second—but he didn't respond.
Takeshi took that as his cue to continue.
"It was during the prep for the book signing tour our publishing house held yearly..." he began, voice dropping a notch lower.
"We were finalizing staging plans, outfits, all the details. It was chaotic because I ended up in a team with Ayaka and we decided to do a band... Man... she's a terrible singer." He chuckled.
He paused for a beat, as if seeing it play out in his head again.
"Nakamura dropped by and he was looking for Ayaka. Then he saw me and her coming back to the room together." Takeshi smiled faintly, almost nostalgically.
"We went to talk to him and I mentioned about how he should watch Ayaka's performance since it'll be held at the Tokyo Medical center—then I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, joking around, you know?"
Makoto's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And that's when it happened." Takeshi continued. "He walked up, just reached out and pulled my hand off her. Calm and cold. Like it was nothing. But his eyes?" He chuckled again, low and knowing. "Yeah. That wasn't nothing. He then took her outside."
Makoto exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "Jealousy?"
"Burning with it. But he'd never admit it. He's the Ice Prince, after all." Takeshi took another sip before adding, "And the thing is, Ayaka didn't say anything. But I saw the way her smile fell."
"And you think she likes him?" Makoto asked, voice strained.
"I know she does." Takeshi said bluntly. "And he likes her. That much is crystal but he holds back. Always has. Maybe it's pride. Maybe it's fear. Maybe it's both."
Makoto finally lifted his drink and took a slow sip, keeping his eyes fixed on the table. "So why tell me this now?"
"Because I saw something else that day." Takeshi said, his voice softening.
"During the final performance of the book tour, Ayaka poured everything she had into it. You could feel it—her emotions, her fire, everything she couldn't say in words… it was all there. But Nakamura? He didn't watch."
Makoto's brows furrowed. "He didn't show up?"
"He's a doctor..." Takeshi said bitterly.
"Maybe he's doing an operation or something...But he didn't watch, Ayaka was crushed. She tried to pretend she didn't care, but I know her well enough. She was devastated."
A heavy silence fell between them, thick as smoke.
Takeshi leaned back, exhaling slowly.
"They're like fire and ice." he murmured.
"Complete opposites. But somehow, they balance each other. She melts him. He grounds her. It's frustrating as hell to watch because they dance around it like it's a game. But it's not."
Makoto's fingers tightened around his glass.
His voice, when it came, was low and steady. "So what? Are you trying to make me give up on her?"
Takeshi looked at him then—really looked.
There was no malice in his eyes, no smugness.
Just a quiet sadness, and maybe a little hope.
"No." he said firmly. "I'm not telling you to give up. I'm telling you the truth because I know it's a lot to take in."
Makoto held his gaze for a long moment, then looked away, swallowing hard. "How do you know?"
"Nothing's even started yet and you looked so defeated." Takeshi said gently. "That's all I'm saying."
They fell into silence again, the music drifting softly around them, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing into Makoto's chest.