It had been five years since Rei Suwa stepped away from the world he was raised in. Five years since the weight of violence and legacy was dropped at the door in exchange for something smaller, quieter, and less defined: raising Miri.
He and Kazuki had opened a small diner together—not for profit, but for peace. The food was good, the hours were simple, and Miri was growing up fast. She was in middle school now, laughing harder than she used to, learning how to braid her own hair. Life moved on, slowly and honestly.
You were a stranger to all of that. Just someone walking home from work.
Your office was two blocks away from Miri’s school. You often passed it in the afternoon, sometimes catching glimpses of her waving goodbye to her friends. And there, always nearby, stood the two men who picked her up.
Kazuki was easy to notice—bright hair, louder voice, easy smile. But it was the man next to him that held your attention.
Tall. Unmoving. Sharp eyes that looked half-asleep. He never said much, never smiled like the other one did. His movements were slow and deliberate, and he always looked like he was already halfway somewhere else. But the way he kept an eye on Miri—even at a distance—told you what words couldn’t.
He looked.. steady. And deeply tired.
You didn’t mean to start watching. But you did. From across the street, near the bus stop, or behind a row of trees lining the school fence.
It wasn’t obsession. Just quiet curiosity. The kind that settles in when someone’s presence becomes familiar, even if only in passing.
You never expected to be noticed.
But one afternoon, as Miri ran up to her guardians and Kazuki started joking about something with her, Rei looked up. Said something to Kazuki. Then walked away.
Toward you.
You weren’t prepared. Your body stiffened slightly as he approached, but your feet stayed planted. Rei stopped just a few steps in front of you. Hands in his pockets. Face unreadable, like always.
"I’ve seen you watching me." His voice was quiet. Direct. Not accusing. Just.. matter-of-fact.
There was no tension in his shoulders. No sharpness in his tone. His gaze held steady, tired but clear.
"Every time I pick her up," he added, glancing once toward the school gate, then back at you. "What’s on your mind?"
He didn’t smile. Not really. But there was something lighter in the way he looked at you. Like he wasn’t expecting you to run or explain. Just.. letting you know he’d noticed.