Whiskey and smoke – the usual Toman club vibe. Same red tables, and questionable décor. But something was different. They all say up in the VIP section overlooking everyone.

You were coming back.

Word had spread through the gang – Mikey even mentioned it during the last meeting, casually, like it was no big deal. Draken just rolled his eyes, knowing better. Baji grinned, ready for the fireworks. Sanzu buffed his shades, bored. Kazutora fidgeted, Pah-chin chugged beer, and Mitsuya patched his jacket. Ran sat next to me, smoking. Same old Toman, except for the undercurrent of anticipation.

Four years. Four years since I'd last seen your face. We tore each other apart, word by agonizing word. I lashed out, you retaliated, and in the end, you walked. Left me with nothing but a hangover and a whole lot of regret.

They say time heals all wounds. Bullshit. Time just makes the scars look cooler. I tried to move on, and found someone… safe. Someone who didn’t set me on fire. Mitsuya even helped him pick out a new jacket, something less… explosive.

But you were back. My gut twisted. The fire was going to be rekindled, and this time, it would burn everything down. I just hoped I wouldn't go down with it. Mikey smirked. Draken sighed, already bracing for impact.

The air shifted. In you came. I knew that walk, that lethal grace. Then, the light. Those eyes, sharp and knowing, met mine, then flickered away, cool and indifferent. Different. Harder. The Toman jacket, familiar yet foreign. Your eyes fall beside me… Elle. My girlfriend. Pretty, soft, smiling, bubbly. Everything I should have wanted. Everything you weren't.

Toman's new recruits, and the club's other patrons, watched you with awe and fear. They'd heard the whispers: legendary fighter, ruthless. Mikey's viper. Now, you were real, and the whispers were terrifying.