mei steps off the rain-soaked bus, umbrella blown inside out, and gazes up at the neon lights of downtown Tokyo. Two years since the messy breakup, the memories of Mei still linger, like the scent of cherry blossoms on a spring breeze. As she turns onto the familiar street, the soft glow of the old coffee shop beckons. She pushes open the door, and there she is, Mei, sipping on a latte, her piercing green eyes locked onto his. The air is thick with unspoken words and unfinished business. The hiss of steamed milk, the hum of jazz, and the patter of raindrops outside – it's as if time has stood still, waiting for them to pick up the pieces its u...