The first thing Fujiwara noticed was the smell of coffee, sweetened with vanilla and warm bread. The second thing she noticed was the lighting. It was a soft morning sun that filtered through a wide café window, cutting the pale gold rectangles across the wooden floor as dust floated in those beams like it had all the time in the world. Outside, people walked with grocery bags and umbrellas while somewhere, a train hissed as it arrived, doors opening with a polite chime.
Fujiwara blinked. Her hands were on a table. She lifted them slowly and wondered to herself how she got here. She remembered being underground with The Rock that separated her and Asol as she was being offered to it by the Leader to siphon her Aura.
She was wearing casual clothes that consisted of a cream sweater, a loose skirt, and socks that didn't match. Her hair was down, but brushed and clean, falling over her shoulder in the way she liked when she didn't have to perform. And there was a cup in front of her with a latte art heart on the surface. But across from her sat, Fujiwara's breath stopped.
Kite.
He wore a black blazer with a white plain shirt underneath, like always. It was the jacket he always wore. His steel-toed boots were planted under the table, angled like he was ready to stand at any moment. His hair was lush and black, falling in soft layers around his face. And his eyes were a soft gold color. That impossible gold made it look like the sun was trapped inside him.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table with that half-smirk Fujiwara had seen a thousand times.
"You look like you're about to short-circuit," Kite said. "You good?"
Fujiwara opened her mouth, but nothing came out. His voice was just as she had always remembered. It was a low monotone. But it could become higher pitched whenever he was cracking a joke.
Then she remembered that day. The day when The Rock had appeared in Shibuya and destroying it in its entirety. She remembered fighting whatever came out of the Rock. And she remembered Kite fighting his hardest he had ever done and sacrificing his life to save countless lives that day.
Fujiwara's eyes stung and then her vision blurred completely as a hot tear slipped down her cheek, then another, then a third that was just fast enough that she didn't have time to pretend she wasn't crying.
Kite's expression then changed instantly and the smirk on his face disappeared.
"Hey." His voice softened as he reached across the table.
"What's wrong? Why are you crying?"
Fujiwara laughed, except it wasn't laughter. It was a broken little sound that didn't know where to go.
"I—" she tried again, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Kite asked, brows knitting together. "Fujiwara, talk to me."
Fujiwara wiped her face quickly, but it didn't help. The tears kept coming.
"I think…" she whispered. "I think I had a nightmare."
Kite blinked once.
"A nightmare?" he repeated, like he was testing the word. Then he let out a small chuckle—light and careful, not mocking.
"During the day?"
Fujiwara's lips trembled.
"I was daydreaming," she said weakly, clinging to the excuse because it was easier than the truth.
Kite leaned back slightly.
"Okay," he said. "What was it about?"
Fujiwara hesitated. The thought that if she said it out loud, it would become real again. His death. But it already was. The day she was brought was the same exact day the Rock would appear and take countless lives. Her throat tightened.
"Kite…" she whispered.
"Yeah?"
"...You died."
The café noise seemed to mute around them for a second. Even the distant train hiss faded. But Kite stared at her like she'd spoken in another language.
"…What?"
Fujiwara's breath shook.
"In the nightmare," she rushed out quickly, as if speed would stop her from breaking. "You died. You were fighting something that was unbeatable. But then, you sacrificed your life to save countless lives..."
Kite's eyes widened slightly, then he blinked and exhaled through his nose.
"Okay," he said slowly. "That's… dark."
Fujiwara nodded rapidly, tears dropping onto the table.
"And then I was alone," she continued, words spilling now. "Like really alone for years... Like there were people around me but none of them were you. And it didn't matter how loud I was performing on stage or how bright the lights were, I still—"
She pressed her fingertips to her chest.
"I still felt empty."
Kite's jaw tightened. He couldn't interrupt. He knew her so well, that he could detect a lie. But everything she said was genuine. And it seemed she had experienced firsthand already. Fujiwara kept going as she told him of everything that had happened.
"And then there was this boy," she said, voice trembling. "His name was Asol."
Kite's brows lifted.
"Asol," he repeated. "Never heard that one."
Fujiwara nodded.
"He was… quiet," she said. "His home was destroyed by the Kaijus. He lost his mom and his best friend. And he had this scar, and he looked angry even when he wasn't talking."
Kite leaned forward again, listening.
"But he protected me," Fujiwara whispered. "He fought like it hurt to breathe. And he blamed himself for everything and—"
She swallowed hard.
"And I got hurt. Really badly. In the nightmare."
Kite's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Hurt how?"
Fujiwara's body flinched before her mind could stop it.
"The Rock," she whispered.
Kite froze.
"The… Rock?" he echoed, confused.
Fujiwara's mouth went dry. If the time was correct, they wouldn't encounter the Rock until hours later.
"It absorbed my Aura," she said. "Like it was drinking me. And it hurt so much I thought I was going to die. I thought I did die."
Her hands trembled on the tabletop.
"And then I couldn't wake up," she whispered. "And I kept hearing people talk around me, but I couldn't answer them."
Her vision blurred again.
"And Asol…" she said, voice cracking. "He kept coming back. He sat with me and talked like I could hear him. And I wanted to tell him I could. I wanted to tell him to stop blaming himself, but I couldn't move."
She squeezed her eyes shut. Fujiwara's words collapsed into a sob. The café was silent in her ears now. All she heard was her own breathing. Then something warm covered her hands. Fujiwara opened her eyes. Kite had reached across the table fully now with his hands holding hers. His grip was firm and it felt impossibly real.
"Fujiwara," he said quietly.
She looked at him like she didn't trust her eyes, but Kite gave her that small, stupid half-smile again, though gentler this time, like he was trying to coax her out of a ledge.
"I'm not dead."
Fujiwara's breath hitched.
"You don't know that," she whispered.
Kite chuckled softly.
"I do know that," he said. "Because I'm literally sitting here listening to your story."
Fujiwara let out something between a laugh and a sob.
"But you could still be—" she tried.
"A hallucination?" Kite offered.
Fujiwara's face tightened as Kite's eyes softened.
"Okay," he said, voice quieter. "You're really scared."
Fujiwara nodded once, small as he rubbed his thumb lightly over her knuckles.
"Listen," he said. "Nightmares don't always mean 'this will happen.' Sometimes it's your brain taking every fear you had and threw it at you like a brick."
Fujiwara sniffed, wiping her face with her sleeve like she was twelve as Kite leaned back slightly, still holding her hands.
"You're afraid of losing people," he continued. "You're afraid of being alone. You're afraid of being helpless."
Fujiwara's throat tightened.
"But you met someone," Kite added, watching her. "Someone you care about in that daydream."
Fujiwara's eyes widened slightly with Kite's smirk returning.
"You said his name with the same voice you use when you pretend you don't care," he said. "His name was, Asol, right?"
Fujiwara's cheeks warmed up.
"Shut up," she muttered weakly.
Kite laughed lightly.
"See?" he said. "You're still you."
Fujiwara let out a shaky breath.
"But it felt real," she whispered. "It felt like… like I lived it."
Kite's expression softened again.
"Then treat it like a warning," he said.
Fujiwara stared at him.
"A warning for what?" she asked.
Kite's eyes stayed on hers.
"A warning that you can't keep carrying everything alone," he said. "That you need people. That you are never alone."
Fujiwara's lips trembled.
"And if you ever have another nightmare like that," Kite added, tone turning lightly teasing, "tell me sooner. Instead of crying into your coffee like you're in some tragic drama."
Fujiwara let out a small laugh, but it came out broken as Kite nodded with satisfaction.
"There you go," he said.
Fujiwara blinked, more tears threatening but slower now.
"Kite," she whispered.
"Yeah?"
"Promise me something."
He leaned forward slightly.
"What?"
Fujiwara swallowed.
"Promise me you won't die," she said.
Kite blinked once. Then he clicked his tongue like she'd asked him for an impossible favor.
"Fujiwara," he said, "I can't promise stuff like that."
Her face fell instantly as Kite continued.
"This job we have," he said, "it is the most dangerous job one can have. We fight the Kaiju threat almost every day. The KAC has lost many good men and women. But their deaths had meaning. They inspired those like me to join and fend off the oncoming calamity. Their deaths are proof that we, Humanity, can persevere and continue moving forward."
Fujiwara stared as Kite grinned.
"I can't promise you I won't die," he continued, "but as long as I'm alive, you won't have to worry."
Fujiwara's laugh burst out unexpectedly.
"That sounded corny," she said, voice still wet.
"What?! But you wanted to know!" Kite replied.
Fujiwara shook her head as she wiped her cheeks. Her other hand was still in his warm and gentle grip.
"Okay," she whispered.
Kite's expression softened, gold eyes steady.
"Good," he said. "Now drink your coffee before it gets cold."
Fujiwara glanced down at the latte art heart and then back up.
"Kite?"
"Yeah?"
"…If I ever meet that boy," she whispered, "I think I want to thank him."
Kite's smirk returned.
"Sounds like you already did," he said lightly and then he tapped his temple softly.
"In your head."
Fujiwara's cheeks warmed.
"Shut up."
Kite laughed again. For a moment, the café stayed golden and safe. But Fujiwara knew that hours later, it would appear.