It had been ages since I last set foot in Tokyo. Honestly, I never planned to come back to this country—not in a million years. Sigh But here I was, stepping out of the airport, scanning the crowd for the man Masamichi Yaga sensei had arranged to pick me up.
As my gaze swept across the throngs of people, I spotted something interesting. There was a sign with my name on it, held by a man standing tall in the crowd. He was… well, hard to miss.
He was tall—towering, really. Well-built, too. His hair was short, blonde, and meticulously parted to the side, giving him a polished look. His eyes were small and hazel, often hidden by the sunglasses he never seemed to take off. Thin eyebrows framed his sharp, serious face. His outfit was clean and formal—business suit, blue dress shirt, tan blazer, and slacks. The holster attached to his shirt made it clear he was prepared for anything. A necktie with a subtle dotted pattern completed the look.
That had to be Nanami.
I walked toward him, and when he spotted me, he lowered his sunglasses just enough to look me over. His eyes weren't as cold as they used to be, but there was still that same scrutinizing gaze that made me feel like I was under a microscope.
"Dia," he greeted, his voice low and steady, the usual warmth hidden beneath layers of formality.
I smirked, eyeing him. It was true—I had changed a lot since our last meeting, physically and in strength. I was no longer the naive, uncertain version of myself I had been in school. I'd grown, and not just in size. My curse techniques were stronger now, far beyond where I had once been. I wasn't the weak girl anymore—the one who had let love make her vulnerable.
I forced myself to smile. "Nami, it's really you! Wow, you've changed so much."
I reached out and gave his bicep a playful poke, almost teasing, and that was when I saw it: Nanami's face flushed ever so slightly, just enough for me to notice.
Huh. He still had that… reaction? That strange, endearing blush that came up whenever I was around.
I couldn't help but laugh internally. Nanami had been harboring feelings for me back in the day—before the whole mess with Gojo. He never admitted it, but I could always tell by the way he acted around me and the barely concealed jealousy when it came to Gojo. It had been years since that silly crush. Surely, he had moved on by now, but apparently, not all things had changed.
I couldn't help but feel a pang of amusement. Nanami, so serious, so composed... still the same old him. He hadn't changed a bit.
I stood there, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. At 5'3", my curves were undeniable, and the red dress I wore only added to the allure. It hugged my body in all the right places, and I knew my boobs were eye-catching, but Nanami… he didn't even glance. His gaze stayed firmly on my face, unwavering. That was something I admired about him. No matter how many years had passed, he was still the same gentleman I remembered.
"Let's go," I said, stepping toward the car parked behind him. My heels clicked against the pavement, the sound echoing in the quiet moment between us.
"Wait."
Nanami's voice was calm, as usual, but there was a subtle edge to it, almost like hesitation. I paused and turned back to see what had stopped him.
He opened the car door and leaned into the back seat, his movements precise and deliberate. When he straightened, he held a bouquet of flowers in his hand, the vibrant colors of the petals glowing softly in the fading sunlight. Lilies, roses, and chrysanthemums—all carefully arranged. My breath hitched. He remembered. He remembered how much I loved flowers.
"This is for you," Nanami said, stepping toward me. His tone was steady, but there was a faint softness in his expression. His eyes, usually guarded, held a rare tenderness. "Welcome back."
The words were simple, but they struck me like a wave. Nanami wasn't one to make grand declarations or over-the-top gestures, but when he did something, it was meaningful. It always had been.
I reached out and took the bouquet, feeling the texture of the petals beneath my fingertips. The scent enveloped me, warm and familiar. I smiled, unable to stop myself. "You didn't have to do this," I said, my voice quieter than I intended.
"I know," he replied, his gaze meeting mine. "But it felt right."
I stared at him for a moment longer, searching for something in his expression. His face was calm, unreadable, but I could see it in his eyes—something unspoken, lingering just beneath the surface. It wasn't just a welcome. It was something more.
I shook off the weight of the moment and gave him a playful smirk. "You're still as formal as ever, huh? Never changing, Nanami."
The corner of his lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but stopped himself. "Some things don't need to change," he said, his voice even, but there was an underlying warmth in the words that made my chest tighten.
"Let's get going," I said, trying to break the tension as I turned toward the car. Nanami nodded, stepping ahead of me to open the door like the gentleman he always was.
As I slid into the seat, the soft scent of the flowers filled the car, mingling with the faint leather scent of the interior. Nanami settled into the driver's seat, his movements efficient and purposeful.
The car pulled out onto the road, and Tokyo spread out before us. The city lights began to flicker on, casting a glow over the streets. I glanced at Nanami as he drove, his face illuminated by the passing lights. He was so steady, so composed. It was comforting in a way I hadn't realized I needed.
"Why flowers?" I asked, breaking the silence. I wanted to hear what he'd say—to see if he'd reveal even a little of what he was feeling.
He didn't look at me, keeping his eyes on the road. "Because I knew you'd like them," he said simply. His voice was so casual, but the weight of those words hit me.
I looked down at the bouquet in my lap, my fingers tracing the petals. I didn't know how to respond, so I just whispered, "Thank you."
Nanami didn't reply, but the faint curve of his lips—the ghost of a smile—said enough.
I sat in Masamichi Yaga sensei's quarters, my eyes scanning the room. It looked just the same as I remembered, except for the man sitting across from me. He seemed... older. Not just in years but in the way he carried himself, as if the weight of the world had pressed down on him over time.
"Good afternoon, Sensei. I hope you're doing great," I said, offering a polite smile, though I couldn't resist adding a hint of sarcasm.
"Stop the formality, Dia," he said with a grunt, leaning back in his chair. "I know sarcasm when I hear it, especially when it's about not kicking Gojo out of the school."
A small smirk played on my lips. So, he still remembered. The incident from ten years ago wasn't something you'd forget easily.
"Uhm... Impressed, Sensei. Do you still remember the betrayal that happened to one of your students?" My voice was calm, but the words carried a sharp edge.
Yaga sensei's eyes narrowed for a moment before softening, as if he could see right through me. "You're doing well, I see," he said, deftly changing the subject. "You've changed a lot. Your curse energy has grown stronger... impressive, Dia. Very impressive."
He always knew how to shift the conversation when it got too heavy. Even after all these years, Yaga sensei could still read me like an open book.
"Alright, Sensei," I said, leaning forward. "Why did you call me back to Tokyo? Let's not pretend this is just some student-teacher reunion. You've always been dramatic, but seriously, who writes a note like that?" I pulled a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket and waved it at him. "'I'm not going to stay another second. Come and meet me. I want to see your face one last time.' Really? Which idiot would fall for such a cheap trick?"
I crossed my legs and reached for the seasoned snacks on the table, popping one into my mouth. He knew I liked these. Some things never changed.
Yaga sensei gave me a flat look, but I could see the corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to laugh. "And yet," he said, raising an eyebrow, "that idiot is sitting right in front of me."
I rolled my eyes, leaning back in the chair. "Touché."
"But jokes aside," he continued, his tone growing serious. "We have a problem, Dia. A serious one."
The air in the room shifted, growing heavier. I set the snack down, suddenly not in the mood for eating. "Go on," I said, my voice steady despite the unease crawling up my spine.