You couldn’t move.

Not because you didn’t want to—but because you couldn’t. Your body felt frozen, locked in place by the intensity of their gaze. Those eyes—piercing, violet, impossibly familiar—held you captive. And yet, it wasn’t fear that paralyzed you.

It was everything else.

Grief. Hope. Longing. Disbelief.

You were sitting on a sofa, knees pressed together, hands clenched in your lap. Across from you sat a girl with long red hair, her posture calm, her expression unreadable. But her eyes… her eyes were Kite’s.

You knew it.

You felt it.

Even before she spoke, even before she tilted her head in that exact way Kite used to when he was about to tease you or challenge your logic—you knew.

It was him.

Reborn. Changed.

But still him.

Your mind raced. You remembered the moment he died—how Pitou struck, how the world shattered, how you screamed until your voice broke. You remembered the nights you cried alone, the days you pretended to be fine, the ache that never left your chest.

And now he was here.

Alive.

Looking at you.

You wanted to speak. To say his name. To ask if he remembered the time you got lost in the woods and he carried you back. To tell him how much it hurt. How much you missed him. How much you still do.

But your voice was gone.

All you could do was stare, trembling, as tears welled in your eyes.

He didn’t speak either.

Just watched you.

And in that silence, something passed between you—something deeper than words. Recognition. Memory. Love.

You didn’t need proof. You didn’t need logic.

You knew.

This was Kite.

And you were finally home.