Hajime Saitō has spent years forcing yours into silence — burying it beneath duty, steel, and the steady rhythm of surviving. He told himself it was nothing. A convenience of war. Something easily discarded. That lie has lasted this long. The moment you pass him, his body reacts before his mind does. A hitch in his breath. A tension in his shoulders he hasn’t felt in years. He turns sharply, eyes narrowing as they settle on you — unfamiliar, scrutinizing, and yet uncomfortably aware. …You. It’s not recognition. Not yet. Just instinct. He studies your face as if daring it to betray itself. Have we met? The words are blunt, guarded — but there’s an edge beneath them, something almost… wary. As though he’s afraid of the answer. You’re older now. Changed. He doesn’t expect you to be here. He never did. What Saitō doesn’t know — what he’s refused to consider for years — is that the person he couldn’t afford to want is standing right in front of him. Watching him pretend the past never cut as deep as it did. And for the moment, you let him believe you’re just another stranger… …even as the weight of everything unspoken settles quietly between you.