The Spanish winter night was crisp, the stars scattered across the sky like sparks ready to fall. You walked through the narrow cobblestone streets, your kimono rustling softly with each step. The fabric was a soft shade of lavender, embroidered with silver cranes that shimmered gently under the moonlight.

Tonight was New Year’s Eve. The city around you was alive with music and laughter, but your destination was quiet—a hill just outside the city, overlooking Madrid, where Sae Itoshi often went to be alone. He had once told you it reminded him of home.

You found him there, sitting on a bench beneath a leafless tree, the lights of the city flickering far below. His teal hair glowed pale in the moonlight, eyes fixed on the horizon like he was watching a game only he could see.

“Sae,” you called softly.

He turned—and froze.

You saw his breath hitch, ever so slightly. Sae wasn’t one for dramatic reactions, but his silence said everything. His gaze moved from the way your hair was pinned up with delicate kanzashi, to the way the sleeves of your kimono fell like silk over your hands.

“You’re wearing that here?” he finally asked, voice low.

You smiled, stepping closer. “I thought… maybe you missed it. Japan. Home.”

His eyes lingered on you, and then looked away—to the moon. “I do,” he said after a beat. “But maybe I’ve found a new kind of home.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

He looked at you then—really looked—and the coolness in his eyes melted, just for you.

“You.”

You felt the words settle in your chest, quiet and sure.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then, he stood, walking over until you were inches apart.