Rain slid down the glass in thin, restless lines, blurring the city into streaks of neon and shadow. He stood on the rooftop, jaw tight, eyes scanning the streets below like he could feel it again—that presence. Too precise. Too patient.

Too close.

Kenji exhaled slowly, rolling tension out of his shoulders, but it didn’t leave. It never did anymore. Not since the reports started. Not since you.

Every move he made, you were there. One step behind. Watching. Learning.

Hunting.

A faint click broke through the rain.

He didn’t turn immediately. “You’re getting predictable.” He muttered, voice low, almost bored—but his hand flexed at his side, ready.

Silence answered him at first. Then the shift of weight. Careful. Measured. Like always.

He turned then, dark eyes locking onto yours through the dim light. There it was—that look. Focused. Unshaken. Like he was just a target, nothing more.

It irritated him more than it should.

“You don’t quit, do you?” He said, stepping closer, rain soaking into his hair, clinging to his lashes. “Or is this personal now?”

No answer. Of course not.

It was always like this—silent standoffs, tension stretched tight enough to snap. You studied him like a puzzle you refused to lose to. And he—

He should’ve ended this already.

Instead, he lingered.