The school day had blurred past—just another stretch of time Kyra had to get through, the long second semester dragging on with its familiar weight. The endless drone of teachers, the scratch of pens against paper, and even the occasional glance from Lain made something stir in her chest—a quiet reminder that she wasn't entirely alone, even if she'd never admit it to herself.
Now, with her bag slung over her shoulder, she walked alone beneath the fading sunlight. The day's warmth was slowly giving way to the cool embrace of the evening, and the pavement was scattered with dry, amber leaves—a subtle sign that autumn had firmly settled in.
Pulling the last cigarette from her pack, she rolled it between her fingers, glancing once over her shoulder before tucking herself into a quieter side street. Not that she needed to hide—Lain and Renji had both seen her smoke before—but out here, the ritual was different. Here, she let the cigarette be just a cigarette, unburdened by the need to mask its scent.
With a flick of her lighter, the flame caught. The first inhale burned in the way she had come to expect, a familiar sting that settled in her chest, mingling with the cool evening air.
The pack was empty now.
She exhaled slowly, smoke curling into the darkening sky before vanishing like a whispered secret.
Making her way back onto the main street, she reminded herself that she needed a new pack anyway. The convenience store loomed ahead, its neon sign flickering dimly—a beacon against the autumn twilight. She pushed inside, blinking against the harsh artificial brightness. The place was quiet, just a couple of customers browsing the aisles, with the faint buzz of an old refrigerator humming in the background. Remarkably, it was the only store in town that never asked for her ID—a small mercy she'd always silently appreciated.
She moved with purpose, heading straight for the refrigerated section and grabbing a canned coffee before making her way to the register.
And then—
Renji Nakamura.
He was already there, hands in his jacket pockets, waiting as the cashier bagged his snacks. He glanced up just as she stepped into line, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that wasn't quite a smirk.
"Huh. Didn't peg you as the convenience store type—other than for cigarettes every day."
Kyra rolled her eyes, unfazed. "Yeah, well. Gotta support the local economy."
Renji's gaze dropped to the empty cigarette pack she pulled from her pocket. He didn't comment, but the way his eyebrow arched said he noticed everything.
She placed her coffee and the empty pack on the counter, fishing for a few bills in her pocket.
"Another," she stated evenly, almost mechanically.
The cashier barely acknowledged her, quickly grabbing the carton without a word.
Renji leaned slightly against the counter, watching her with that familiar look—the one that said he had a comment locked and loaded.
"Y'know, I don't think I've ever actually seen you with a full pack. Just an endless cycle of empty ones."
Kyra exhaled sharply, unimpressed. "That's deep. You should write poetry."
"Maybe I will. Something about the tragic girl who pretends she's not addicted." His tone was teasing, but there was a warmth in it that hinted at more than just idle banter.
She shot him a flat look. "You talk just to hear yourself, don't you?"
"Only when it annoys you." He stepped aside, letting her pass. "Which is, like, ninety percent of the time."
She didn't respond.
But as she moved toward the door, he followed, the two of them stepping into the cooling evening air at the same time.
"You still planning on hitting the arcade later?" Renji asked, adjusting the strap of his bag.
Kyra took a sip of her coffee, letting the bitterness settle on her tongue before answering. "Yeah."
Renji hummed thoughtfully, then shrugged. "Cool. I'll make sure to win something rigged just to piss you off."
Kyra scoffed, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Joke's on you—I already assume everything's rigged."
"Wow. So profound." He grinned and stepped back into the crowd. "Guess I'll see you there, then. Try not to look too miserable without me."
And just like that, he melted into the flow of passing strangers.
Kyra lingered for a second longer, gripping the cold metal of the coffee can a little too tightly. In that moment, as the evening deepened and the noise of the city softened, she couldn't help but feel the quiet pull of Lain's presence earlier—a pull that was growing stronger, more insistent, even if she would never admit it outright.
She let out a slow breath and slipped the pack of cigarettes into her pocket.
The apartment was waiting.
And so was everything she wasn't ready to face.