The air around the Kyoto manor was thick with the scent of burning sandalwood. It was 2:34 AM.

You stood alone in the garden—moonlight reflecting on the koi pond, your fingers brushing a steel canister filled with rare isotope compounds.

Behind you: the sound of a door sliding open.

"You haven't changed," came the voice.

Low. Calm. Dangerous.

You turned slowly.

Shinji.

In a dark obsidian suit, hair slicked, two buttons undone, and those eyes—damn those eyes—calculating you like a chessboard.

"You're late," you said.

He stepped closer. "You're beautiful."

You rolled your eyes. "Still dramatic."

He smirked. "Still pretending you're not happy to see me."

He stopped a few inches from you, staring with that unsettling calm that always made you feel bare.

"We need to talk," you said, voice quieter now.

"About the alliance? Or the way you disappeared without a goodbye?"

Your throat tightened.

"Shinji—"

He leaned in, breath warm. "You left. But I never stopped watching. Never stopped protecting you. And now that you're back... you're not walking away again."