The following week unfolded with an unusual lightness in Aiko's routine. The memory of Ryuu lingered, weaving its way into her thoughts as she worked. She hadn't expected him to keep the napkin sketch or to run into him at the gallery, but something about his presence felt… comfortable.
Still, she pushed those thoughts aside as she sat at her desk, working on her latest commission—a set of character designs for an indie game developer. It wasn't her dream project, but it paid the bills and kept her hands moving.
Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. It was a text from Nana:
"Gallery feedback: Takashi liked your work! Send him more sketches ASAP!"
Aiko sighed. She hadn't forgotten their brief conversation, but the idea of submitting her work to someone like Takashi made her stomach twist. What if it wasn't good enough?
She glanced at her sketchbook, flipping through the pages. Her hand hovered over the drawing of Ryuu before she shut it with a decisive snap. No distractions.
At the café, Ryuu was equally distracted. Business had picked up lately, and the demands of running the kitchen left little room for personal reflection. Yet, every now and then, his mind wandered to the quiet artist in the corner.
Kenji noticed. "You've been staring at the front door for the past ten minutes. Expecting someone?"
Ryuu frowned, focusing on the vegetables he was chopping. "No. Just thinking."
Kenji leaned against the counter, grinning. "Is it the girl from the gallery? The one you couldn't stop talking about?"
"I didn't 'talk about' her," Ryuu muttered.
"Sure. You only mentioned her three times on the way home."
Ryuu ignored him, but his slight smile betrayed him.
"Why don't you ask her out?" Kenji continued. "You're not exactly subtle. If she's interested, great. If not, at least you'll know."
Ryuu didn't respond immediately. Instead, he set the knife down and sighed. "It's not that simple."
"Why not?"
"Because…" He hesitated. "I've got a lot going on. I'm not sure I can give someone the attention they deserve."
Kenji shrugged. "Fair enough. But life doesn't wait for the perfect moment, you know. Sometimes you just have to take a chance."
Ryuu nodded, though he wasn't entirely convinced.
Later that evening, Aiko found herself back at the café. She hadn't planned to go, but something about the quiet atmosphere there always helped her focus. She settled into her usual corner, ordering a tea and pulling out her sketchbook.
She didn't notice Ryuu until he approached her table.
"Back again?" he asked, balancing a tray of steaming coffee cups.
Aiko looked up, startled. "Oh. Hi. Yes, I guess so."
He set the tray down on a nearby table and slid into the seat across from her, uninvited but not unwelcome.
"Working on something new?" he asked, gesturing to the sketchbook.
"Sort of. It's for a potential gallery exhibition," she said hesitantly. "A friend of mine thinks I should submit my work."
"She's right," Ryuu said without hesitation.
Aiko blinked. "You haven't even seen what I'm submitting."
"I don't need to. Your sketches are incredible. You've got a real eye for detail."
Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. "Thanks. It's just… hard to put myself out there sometimes."
Ryuu leaned back, studying her. "You know, I get that. Putting yourself out there, risking failure—it's terrifying. But it's worth it."
Aiko looked down at her sketchbook, tracing the edge of the cover with her finger. "What about you? What risks have you taken?"
Ryuu's expression darkened slightly, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer.
"I took a big one a few years ago," he said finally. "I started my own restaurant. It was everything to me. But… it didn't work out."
"What happened?"
"There was a scandal. My business partner betrayed me, and we lost everything. I had to start over."
Aiko's heart ached at the quiet pain in his voice. "I'm sorry," she said softly.
"It's okay. It's in the past," Ryuu replied, though his tone suggested otherwise. "This café—it's my way of starting fresh. It's not the same, but it's something."
They sat in silence for a moment, the noise of the café fading into the background.
"I think you're brave," Aiko said finally. "Starting over like that. I don't know if I could."
"You could," Ryuu said with certainty. "You're stronger than you think."
The words hung between them, heavier than either expected.
When Aiko left the café that night, she felt a strange mix of emotions—hope, admiration, and something she couldn't quite name.
Ryuu watched her go, the folded napkin sketch still tucked safely in his pocket. Kenji's words echoed in his mind: Sometimes you just have to take a chance.
Aiko's usual routine was thrown into chaos over the next few days. Between finishing her commission work and gathering pieces to submit to Takashi, she barely had time to think about anything else. But Ryuu's words lingered in her mind: You're stronger than you think.
She stared at her laptop screen, the email to Takashi sitting in her drafts. The attachment contained five scanned sketches, her most personal work—pieces that told quiet stories of fleeting moments and emotions.
Her finger hovered over the send button. What if he hated them?
Her phone buzzed, breaking her hesitation. It was Nana, the human embodiment of relentless encouragement.
Nana: "Sent your work yet? Or do I need to drag you back to the gallery?"
Aiko rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. Taking a deep breath, she clicked send before she could second-guess herself.
Meanwhile, Ryuu stood in the storage room of the café, staring at an unopened envelope on the shelf. The return address was from a legal firm—a stark reminder of the life he had tried to leave behind.
Kenji leaned against the doorframe, watching him. "You gonna open that?"
Ryuu shook his head. "Not yet."
"You've been avoiding this for weeks."
"And I'll keep avoiding it until I'm ready."
Kenji sighed but didn't push further. He had known Ryuu long enough to recognize when to back off. "Suit yourself. But whatever it is, it's not going away."
Ryuu nodded, his jaw tightening. He knew Kenji was right. But the thought of facing the remnants of his failed restaurant—of reliving the betrayal that had gutted him—felt like too much.
Later that evening, Aiko found herself wandering through Yoyogi Park, her sketchbook tucked under her arm. The park was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the city.
She sat beneath a sakura tree, the blossoms drifting down like snowflakes. Opening her sketchbook, she began to draw—the curve of the branches, the play of light on the petals. But her mind kept drifting to Ryuu.
There was something about him that felt… unfinished, like a story waiting to be told.
At the café, Ryuu couldn't focus. He paced the kitchen, his thoughts a storm of frustration and uncertainty. Finally, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, stopping at a name he hadn't called in years.
After a moment of hesitation, he dialed.
The voice on the other end was cold, formal. "Ryuu. I wasn't expecting to hear from you."
"I got the letter," Ryuu said, his tone clipped. "What do you want?"
"We need to resolve this. The debt won't disappear just because you ignore it."
Ryuu clenched his jaw. "I'll pay what I owe. Just give me more time."
"You've had time. We're running out of patience."
The call ended abruptly, leaving Ryuu staring at the phone in his hand.
The next day, Aiko returned to the café, her sketchbook filled with fresh drawings from her time in the park. She wasn't sure why she came back, but something about the place—and Ryuu—kept pulling her in.
She spotted him behind the counter, his usual calm replaced with a tense energy.
"Ryuu?" she said softly.
He looked up, his expression softening when he saw her. "Aiko. Hey."
"Is everything okay?"
He hesitated, then shook his head. "Just a lot on my mind."
She nodded, sensing he didn't want to talk about it. "Can I sit here for a while?"
"Of course."
As she settled into her corner seat, Ryuu brought over a cup of tea, setting it in front of her.
"On the house," he said with a small smile.
"Thank you."
For a while, they sat in companionable silence—Aiko sketching, Ryuu tending to the café. But as the evening wore on, Ryuu found himself drawn to her table.
"What are you working on?" he asked.
She turned the sketchbook toward him, revealing a drawing of the sakura tree she had sketched the night before.
"It's beautiful," he said. "You have a way of capturing… moments."
Aiko smiled shyly. "Thank you. I'm submitting some of my work to a gallery curator. It's terrifying."
"You'll be great," Ryuu said with quiet certainty.
Aiko studied him for a moment, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Ryuu, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"What happened with your restaurant? You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I just… I feel like there's more to your story."
Ryuu exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It's not a happy story."
"I don't mind."
He hesitated, then nodded. "I opened a restaurant with someone I trusted—an old friend. We had big dreams, but… he made some bad decisions. Took money from the business, cut corners with suppliers. When it all came out, it ruined us. I lost everything."
Aiko's chest tightened. "That must have been devastating."
"It was. But I'm trying to move on."
She reached across the table, her hand brushing his. "For what it's worth, I think you're doing an amazing job. This café—it's a beautiful place."
Ryuu looked at her, surprised by her kindness. "Thanks, Aiko. That means a lot."
As they sat there, the quiet hum of the café around them, a fragile connection began to form—one built on shared vulnerabilities and the courage to keep going, even when the past threatened to pull them under.