---
Ken — Stadium Hall, Downtown Singapore
The roar of the crowd echoed in the sports complex. Ken had just finished a taekwondo demonstration with his students, sweat clinging to his temples as he bowed to the audience.
The event was a huge success.
He stood backstage now, sipping water, his eyes scanning the stadium absentmindedly.
Then, a familiar voice filtered through the loudspeakers. Not a voice he'd heard directly—but an accent, a tone, a laugh that felt far too close.
On the massive LED screen, a news snippet was playing:
> "Japan's youngest club mogul Arashi Fujimoto officially opens his first international branch here in Singapore tonight! Let's take a look—"
Ken's head whipped toward the screen.
There he was. Dressed in a tailored black suit. Smirking. Holding a champagne glass. Laughing beside Souta.
The camera zoomed in on Arashi's face.
Ken's breath caught.
> Even after everything, his heart still stuttered at the sight of him.
The screen flickered—just for a moment—then cut back to the sports coverage.
He turned away.
> "He's doing well," Ken muttered to himself.
His grip on the water bottle tightened.
> "Good for him."
---
Arashi — Later That Night
The club opening was chaos.
Reporters, socialites, DJs from Seoul and Tokyo.
But somewhere in the back of Arashi's mind — between toasts and spotlights — he remembered the schedule Souta handed him yesterday:
> "Saturday — Taekwondo Exchange Gala, Invited Guest: Himura Ken"
He hadn't read it properly.
He grabbed the crumpled paper from his back pocket now and re-read the line.
And there it was.
Ken.
> "He's here?"
He stood frozen in the middle of the crowd, music blasting around him.
> He's here… and I didn't see him?
"Arashi!" a host called. "Time for a photo!"
He nodded automatically.
But his mind was spinning.
He pulled Souta aside.
"You didn't tell me Ken was part of the guest list."
Souta shrugged. "You never asked."
> And that's when Arashi realized — this wasn't a coincidence.
This was control.
This was a calculated silence.
Souta placed a hand on Arashi's shoulder. "You're building an empire. Let him build his. What's in the past… leave it there."
But Arashi wasn't listening anymore.
---
Ken — Hotel Rooftop
Later that night, Ken stood on the edge of the rooftop garden, watching the glittering skyline of Singapore.
He thought about the screen. That look on Arashi's face. The black suit. The confidence.
So different from the Arashi who used to throw tantrums over cold ramen and kick his feet off Ken's coffee table.
> "He's doing well," Ken whispered again.
But it didn't stop the ache in his chest.
Not even close.
---