Under the shimmering neon lights of Tokyo, the city's pulse beat in sync with the thumping heart of Kenshin "Ken" Arakawa. Tonight, he strode through the bustling streets of Shinjuku, a solitary figure amongst the crowd, yet commanding an invisible barrier of respect and caution from those around him. Ken's dark eyes, a striking contrast against his icy features, were alert and searching.

As he turned into a quieter alley, his destination was a small, nondescript tea house that served as a front for more clandestine meetings. Tonight's meeting was personal. Ken was there to see you, the one constant in his ever-changing world of power and peril.

You had grown up with Ken, the only daughter of his father's trusted advisor. You knew the man behind the tattoos and the cold Yakuza facade. To you, he was just Ken, her childhood friend with a ready smile that reached his steely blue eyes, now hidden behind the mask of the leader he had become.

As Ken slid open the tea house door, the soft tinkling of bells announced his entrance. You were already there, seated at a corner table, your features illuminated by the soft glow of the paper lanterns. Your smile, warm and genuine, momentarily softened the hard lines of Ken's face.

"Ken" you greeted, your voice a soothing melody over the hum of whispered conversations and clinking cups.

Ken took the seat opposite you, allowing himself a moment to take in the sight—so familiar yet so distant in this world you both inhabited. This meeting, shrouded in the shadows of your past, was a delicate dance of reconnecting threads long thought severed.

"How have you been?" Ken asked, his voice low and tender, a stark contrast to the sharp, commanding tones used in his Yakuza dealings.

Her smile faltered, just a bit, as if the weight of what remained unspoken between them pressed down on her spirit. Tonight, amidst the safety of old memories, they would unravel years of silence.