“Reunion”

Across from her, Saki Morimoto was too busy tapping furiously on her pink phone to notice anything else. It wasn’t unusual. Saki’s entire existence seemed powered by caffeine and Wi-Fi. Marketing never slept, after all.

“You know,” Airi said, sipping her matcha latte, “you’re supposed to actually eat during a lunch break, not work through it.”

Saki didn’t look up. “Mm-hmm.”

Airi sighed. “You didn’t even hear me, did you?”

“Of course I did,” Saki replied automatically, still scrolling.

Airi smirked. “What did I say, then?”

Saki blinked, finally looking up. “Uh… that I look stunning even when I’m working?”

Airi laughed despite herself. “You wish.”

Saki grinned, flashing her perfectly applied lip tint. “Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying.”

We had been friends since Airi joined the company, and somehow two completely different people somehow orbited the same gray office space as close friends. Airi, quiet and careful. Saki, loud and reckless. They balanced each other out… most days.

Airi pushed her half-eaten cake aside and reached for her phone. One new message — from her boss about a department memo. Nothing exciting. She checked her personal inbox next, her chest tightening just a little.

Still nothing.

It had been days since she’d sent that email to the old music company, asking to work with them again. She’d half expected to get ghosted, but she couldn’t help checking anyway, like some part of her still believed miracles occasionally came in Gmail form. No reply. No acknowledgment. Just the quiet rejection of being forgotten.

Saki finally locked her phone, letting out a sigh. “Ugh, these clients are driving me insane. Anyway, sorry, Airi, but I’ve got a call with a sponsor in like ten minutes. Gotta run!”

“Already?” Airi asked, glancing at her watch. “We just got here.”

Saki shrugged, grabbing her blazer from the back of the chair. “Welcome to the glamorous life of marketing. Text me later, okay? Oh , and don’t forget, Mr. Sato is throwing a company get-together next weekend. You’re coming this time?”

Airi opened her mouth to argue but didn’t bother. Once Saki decided something, resistance was futile.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving as her friend darted out the door, heels clacking against the tile.

And just like that, Airi was alone again.

She leaned back in her chair, listening to the low hum of chatter and the soft hiss of the espresso machine. The café was cozy, warm, the kind of place that could make time slow down if you let it.

Outside, Tokyo was bathed in golden afternoon light from people crossing streets, the faint rhythm of traffic, a breeze swaying the plants by the window. It was a nice day. For once, she felt like she could just breathe.

Airi took another bite of her cake, savoring the sweetness. Maybe this was okay. Maybe not hearing back yet didn’t mean anything. Maybe the company was just slow, or her email got buried under spam.

She let herself enjoy the peace for a few minutes more, just listening to the faint music playing from the speakers above; a soft pop ballad, something about love found and lost. But when she looked outside again, the light had changed. The sky, once bright and lazy, was now a moody shade of gray. Clouds gathered like gossip, dark and heavy, promising rain.

“Ah, seriously?” she muttered, checking her watch. Lunch break was officially over.

She packed up her things, slipping her notebook and phone into her bag, then stood and waved a quick thanks to the barista.

Outside, the air was cooler, the wind picking up. Airi walked briskly down the street while she clutched her phone. She scrolled through her notifications as she moved, half paying attention to the sidewalk ahead. Social media, news headlines, more emails from work. Nothing interesting. But her mind wasn’t on her phone so much as the silence around it. She opened it one more time anyway. A sigh slipped out before she could stop it. “Figures.”

A droplet of rain landed on her phone screen, blurring her reflection. Then another. Airi looked up just as the first wave of rain began to fall, soft at first, then heavier, drumming onto her head.

The rain came down harder now, relentless and cold, soaking through Airi’s work sleeves before she could even open her umbrella. Tokyo traffic hissed and splashed along the slick streets, the city lights smeared across puddles like a painting in motion. She tucked her phone close to her chest, trying to shield it from the rain as she turned the corner—

“Ah!”

Her shoulder slammed into something or rather, someone.

Her phone nearly flew from her hand, and she stumbled back, muttering an apology. But before she could move, a shadow fell over her, and the cold raindrops suddenly stopped hitting her head.

Her gaze followed the curve of it upward, landing on the person holding it is a tall, lean, face half-shadowed by the rain and dim light. The only thing immediately visible were his eyes. Those same soft, deep eyes that had once looked at her through a haze of music and neon lights.

Airi froze. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The corners of Ren Ichijō's mouth curved into a small, amused smile. “Hey there, little Songbird.”

Her stomach did an embarrassing little flip at the nickname, his nickname for her from the karaoke night. She crossed her arms quickly, trying to hide it.

“Are you stalking me now?” she asked, her voice sharper than she meant it to be.

Ren chuckled softly, the sound calm and familiar, somehow louder than the rain. “If I were stalking you, I wouldn’t do it in the middle of a thunderstorm.”

Airi blinked, still not entirely convinced this wasn’t some weird dream. “What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, surrounded by bodyguards or hiding in a mansion somewhere?”

He shrugged lightly, the umbrella shifting just enough to cover her a little more. “I was out for a walk. Needed some air.”

“In this weather?”

“Rain’s good cover,” he said simply. “No one expects to find a celebrity wandering around in the middle of a downpour. Makes me invisible.”

Airi raised an eyebrow. “Invisible? You do realize you’re wearing a designer coat and holding an umbrella that probably costs more than my rent, right?”

He laughed again. “Fair point.”

She tilted her head, studying him. Even in the gray, rain-drenched light, he looked unfairly good: the kind of good that made you forget to blink. But more than that, he looked tired. The kind of tired that went deeper than sleepless nights.

Airi shoved that thought away. “You know, people are still talking about that karaoke thing,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Your fans, I mean. You kind of broke the internet for a few hours.”

Ren’s eyes softened. “I know. I saw the videos.”

“Oh good,” she said, deadpan. “Then you also saw how your fans are ready to burn whoever that mystery girl was at the stake.”

He grimaced slightly. “Yeah… about that. I’m sorry.”

Airi blinked. “You’re sorry?”

He nodded. “You didn’t sign up for that kind of attention. I should’ve been more careful. It won’t happen again.”

For a second, she didn’t know how to respond. Apologies weren’t what she expected from a superstar. Then something else he said registered in her mind.

“Wait—‘won’t happen again’? As in, next time?”

Ren opened his mouth, an unreadable smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” she echoed, somewhere between incredulous and amused. “You’re ridiculous.”

Her cheeks warmed instantly, and she cursed the rain for making it impossible to tell if it was blushing or weather. Before she could form a witty retort, the growl of an engine cut through the sound of rain.

A sleek black car pulled up to the curb beside them. The window rolled down, revealing a man in a suit with the kind of expression that said time’s up.

“Ren,” the man called out firmly. “We have to go. Now.”

Ren’s posture straightened slightly, the easy calm in his voice giving way to a note of resignation.

He turned back to Airi, his expression softer again. “Looks like I’ve been found.”

Airi tried to sound nonchalant. “By your chauffeur, or by fate?”

“Maybe both,” he said, smiling faintly. Then, without warning, he extended his umbrella toward her.

“What—wait—”

“Keep it,” he said simply. “You’ll need it more than I will.”

She hesitated. “You can’t just walk off in the rain without—”

But Ren had already stepped back, the rain immediately catching his shoulders, soaking through his jacket.

He gave her one last look, the kind that lingered like the end of a song before the applause. Then he turned and walked toward the car. The suited man opened the door, murmuring something to him, and within moments, Ren was gone, swallowed by the traffic and the storm.

Airi stood there, clutching the umbrella, the sound of the rain somehow louder now that he wasn’t standing beside her. She tilted her head back, exhaling a long breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

The city lights reflected off the wet pavement, neon and gold flickering beneath her feet. The umbrella above her was warm still holding the faintest trace of his cologne, something subtle and clean.

She looked down at the handle, fingers tightening around it. “Next time, huh?” she murmured under her breath, a small, incredulous smile tugging at her lips.

Then she turned and started walking again, her steps light against the rain because deep down, under the hum of the city and the rush of the storm, Airi knew there would be a next time.

And fate, apparently, had excellent timing.