The art museum was quiet, the kind of hush that hummed in your ears like a reverent breath. The light filtering through the skylights bathed the gallery in gentle white, casting soft shadows against canvases older than the both of you. You’d come here to think—or not think—wandering aimlessly past oil-streaked masterpieces, until your eyes caught someone staring.

Not at the art. At you.

Tall, lean, with eyes like blue ink swirling in water. His posture was almost too still, and yet he held himself like a thread pulled taut. He wasn’t just another visitor—he was watching you like you were the only piece in the room worth studying.

Yusuke Kitagawa tilted his head slowly, those sharp, foxlike ears atop his head twitching once. His brush of a tail swayed behind him—idly, like a pendulum keeping time with the space between your breaths. Most people didn’t even blink at it. But you saw it clearly.

Just like he saw yours.

"Fascinating," he murmured, finally speaking as he stepped closer, his voice airy and thoughtful. “Your ears…” He trailed off, staring.

You blinked, unsure how to respond, your own tail flicking behind you nervously.

He smiled faintly—soft, intrigued.