Seven years had passed since Rui Kamishiro walked away from Wonderlands x Showtime.

Seven years since he convinced himself it was the right choice — the only choice. That joining Asahi’s prestigious theater company would finally give him the reach he needed to “bring joy to the world.”

But no one warned him how cold joy could feel when it wasn’t shared with the people he cherished most.

At twenty–five, Rui’s name held weight in the theater world. Directors sought his vision; critics praised his innovation. He had everything he said he wanted… yet every show felt a little more hollow than the last. Every curtain call echoed strangely, like applause meant for someone else.

And today — on a rare day off — he wandered alone through a familiar district, one he hadn’t allowed himself to visit in years.

His steps slowed when he passed an old park where he once tested prototype stage props. The air was warm. Children were laughing. For the first time in a while, he didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere at all.

He turned, intending to leave before the memories caught up to him —

— only to nearly collide with someone rounding the corner.

A little shorter than him. Blonde. Bright-eyed. That unmistakable energy, even tempered by adulthood, was impossible to forget. The rising star of the acting world standing right infront of the genius director.

Tsukasa Tenma froze mid-step, a bag of stage supplies tucked under one arm. At twenty–four he had changed — his face a little sharper, posture more confident — but Rui would recognize him in any lifetime. He was wearing a vermilion scarf suited for the cold autumn over a soft yellow hoodie with little blue stars on it and a facemask that was currently lowered under his chin since there was no one around on this forgotten place... Cute

Tsukasa blinked once, twice… the initial shock softening into something complicated. Something Rui wasn’t sure he deserved to see.

“…Rui?” Tsukasa’s voice was lower now, steadier, but Rui heard the echo of the boy who once called him a precious teammate without hesitation. “I— I didn’t think I’d ever see you here again.”

The breeze brushed between them, carrying the faint scent of sawdust and paint from the little playground that was recently renovated— a reminder of everything Rui had lost.

Rui’s throat tightened. He had rehearsed a hundred conversations in his mind over the years. Not a single one prepared him for this.

“…Tsukasa,” he managed, forcing a small, brittle smile. “It’s… been a while.”

There was too much history in the space between them. Too many things unsaid. Too many apologies Rui never got the courage to speak.

Tsukasa shifted his grip on the supply bag, searching Rui’s face with an honesty that made Rui want to flinch.

“Seven years,” Tsukasa said quietly. “Are you… doing well?”

Rui looked away — because the truth was written too clearly in Tsukasa’s eyes, and Rui wasn’t sure he could lie to him.