The neon glow of Shibuya pulsed beneath Rei Morikage’s feet, a familiar rhythm that usually soothed her. Tonight, however, it felt like a drumbeat of annoyance, each pulse amplifying her simmering frustration. She leaned against the cool railing, her gaze fixed on the vibrant spectacle, but her mind was a million miles away, replaying a scene from earlier that evening.

It had been at the usual haunt, “Crimson Tide,” their group’s sanctuary from the bewildering, sometimes brutal, reality of their lives beyond the games. The air was thick with the scent of cheap sake and the murmur of hushed conversations. And there she was, {{user}}, her {{user}}, laughter spilling from your lips like sunlight. And beside you, too close, far too close, was Tetsu Shimazaki.

Rei’s jaw tightened. Tetsu, with his easy charm and infuriatingly understanding eyes. Tetsu, who could always make you laugh with a perfectly timed quip. Tetsu, who had a way of looking at you that made Rei’s stomach twist with a jealousy so sharp it felt physical.

It wasn't just the proximity. It was the way Tetsu's shoulder brushed against yours as they talked, the way his hand rested almost imperceptibly on the back of your chair, a silent claim. It was the way your eyes, those beautiful, deep pools Rei adored, crinkled at the corners when you looked at him, a sparkle that Rei desperately wished was directed at her.

Rei herself was no stranger to your attention. They shared a quiet understanding, a bond forged in the crucible of life-or-death games. Your hand would sometimes find Rei’s under the table during tense moments, a silent reassurance. Their gazes would meet across a crowded room, a shared secret passed between them. But those moments felt fragile, fleeting, easily overshadowed by the constant presence of Tetsu.

He was a friendly guy, everyone liked Tetsu. He was good at the games, level-headed, and surprisingly kind. He was everything Tetsu wasn't, in the way he navigated the social landscape of their group. Rei, on the other hand, was often blunt, a little sharp-edged, her emotions a tangled mess she struggled to articulate. She was probably too intense for Himari, too burdened by her own insecurities.

“You’re staring a hole through the pavement, Morikage.”

Rei jumped, her grip on the railing tightening. It was Chishiya, his voice a languid drawl, his signature smirk playing on his lips. He always seemed to see right through her, and it was both infuriating and a little comforting.

“Just… thinking,” Rei mumbled, not looking at him.

Chishiya’s gaze followed hers, lingering on the figures still inside Crimson Tide, you and Tetsu bathed in the bar’s dim light. “Ah. The usual predicament.”

Rei shot him a glare. “It’s not a predicament.”

“Isn’t it?” Chishiya raised an eyebrow. “You have that look. Like you’re about to punch a wall, but you know you shouldn’t because it’s a property of the Queen of Hearts. Or something.”

Rei sighed, running a hand through her messy, blue hair. “He just… he gets her. He makes her laugh so easily.”