The last train to Tokyo pulled into Sendai Station with a slow metallic sigh. Its lights cut through the mist like a blade, pale and flickering, giving the platform a yellowed, dreamlike glow. The hiss of the brakes echoed through the near-empty station, followed by the clatter of doors unlocking.
Kazou Kuroda adjusted the strap of his worn satchel, the weight of it pulling slightly at his shoulder. He wore a dark blazer coat, and a tie to look formal.
Next to him, Rose Brook stood with her arms crossed, one foot tapping. She wore red lipstick, smeared slightly at the corner of her mouth, and a heavy wool coat that hung off one shoulder in defiance of the cold. Her blonde hair, swept to one side, caught the station lights in streaks of silver and gold.
"You know, you could say something," she muttered, glancing sidelong at him as the train doors opened with a pneumatic hiss. "We're chasing a ghost, and you haven't said a word in twenty minutes."
Kazou looked at her, his eyes calm but unreadable. "I'm thinking."
Rose rolled her eyes and stepped forward toward the open door.
"God, you're always thinking. Meanwhile, I'm the one who had to scream your name across half of downtown Sendai just to get you to stop walking away from me."
The train let out a groan as its doors clunked open. Passengers began to shuffle inside—an elderly man with a paper bag, a couple with a baby, two students still half-laughing at a joke from earlier.
Kazou moved toward the door without a word.
Rose hesitated, flicked her cigarette onto the tracks, and followed.
Kazou followed her into the train without a word. The carriage was mostly empty—just a couple of sleeping businessmen and a lone teenager with headphones in. Rose slid into a seat by the window and crossed her legs, watching the station fade as Kazou sat beside her, setting his bag on the floor between them.
Inside, the train was mostly empty—just the soft hum of overhead lights and the occasional rattle of the tracks. They found an empty booth near the back. Kazou slid into the window seat, staring out at the dim outline of Sendai slipping into the night. Rose sat across from him, her bag beside her, her legs crossed, arms folded.
The silence resumed.
The train lurched into motion.
"I didn't mean to walk away," Kazou said finally, voice low.
"You always walk away," Rose said sharply, turning toward him. Her tone was barbed but not cruel. "Back then, after the lab—after the trial—after everything. You shut me out. Like you were some noble martyr carrying the burden for the rest of us."
"I had to," Kazou said, eyes on the passing shadows outside the window. "Someone had to protect what was left."
"What was left?" Rose laughed bitterly. "There was nothing left. Nothing but bodies and lies. And you left me in that nothing."
"I didn't want you to carry it," he murmured. "You deserved a clean life."
"I didn't want to be clean. I wanted the truth. And I wanted you."
The train settled into its rhythm: the soft clack-clack of the tracks below, the muted rattle of overhead lights. They sat in silence for a moment, until Rose spoke again, softer this time.
"You always do that," Rose muttered finally.
Kazou turned toward her slowly. "Do what?"
"That thing. The martyr thing. The 'I'm doing this alone because it's safer that way' crap." She mimicked his voice with a dramatic sigh. "It's pathetic."
Kazou gave a small, humorless smile. "You think this is a game?"
"I think you want it to be," she shot back. "You want to feel like some tragic hero. Poor Kazou, saving the world while he shoves everyone away. Must be convenient, never having to answer for any of the people you hurt along the way."
His eyes narrowed, just slightly. "Is that what this is about?"
Rose leaned in, her voice sharp, low. "I'm not here because I want to rehash our failed romance. I'm here because I need to know the truth. About Casimir. About what the hell you've gotten yourself into."
Kazou looked.
the outskirts of Sendai gave way to darkened hills and quiet towns, the landscape smeared in the glass like a memory half-forgotten.
Kazou didn't move. His eyes stayed fixed out the window, as if he were searching for something in the black fields rushing by.
"You already know the truth," he said finally. His voice was low, calm in that same maddening way it had always been—like everything was a medical case he had to present with perfect precision. "Akane told you. I told you. There's nothing else."
Rose scoffed, too tired to restrain the bitterness bubbling under her ribs. "Don't you dare pretend that's all there is. You always say just enough to make people stop asking. You drip the truth out in teaspoons and expect us to feel full."
Kazou turned toward her slowly, his brow furrowed.
"You think this is easy for me?" he said, voice almost a whisper. "To look at you, to come back to all of this, knowing what it cost?"
"Then why did you come?" she demanded, her voice rising.
"Because you asked me to," he said, eyes holding hers for a beat longer than expected. "Because I owed you that."
For a moment, Rose faltered. She looked down at her lap, her fingers tightening on the hem of her coat.
Then she exhaled—hard—and her voice softened, almost uncertain. "Kazou… when I saw you again at that cafe, I didn't know what I was going to say. I thought it would be about Casimir, about the investigation, about the blood and the bodies and the whole damn horror of it." She looked up, her eyes glassy now, but her jaw still firm. "But then you walked in, and it felt like it all collapsed. Like none of it mattered."
Kazou blinked. His expression didn't shift, but the muscles in his neck tightened.
"I don't know what I expected," she continued, leaning forward now. "I hated you for years. Blamed you. But when I saw you… I just remembered how much I missed you. How much I missed us."
"Rose…"
She reached across the table and gripped his hand.
"Don't say anything yet. Just—just let me say it first," she said, biting back emotion. "I know things can't go back to the way they were. We're not those people anymore. We've seen too much. But…" She hesitated. "Can we try again? Can we just—can we start over?"
Kazou looked down at their joined hands. For a second, he didn't move. But then he pulled gently away, folding his hands in his lap.
"I want what's best for you," he said, almost painfully. "I always have. But starting over… with me… I don't know if that's something I can give you anymore."
Rose stared at him, breathing hard.
"I wanna restart!" she said, her voice cracking. "I miss you, Kazou! I miss who we used to be—before the lab, before everything went to hell!"
Kazou's eyes closed. He leaned back in the booth, fingers pressed to his temple. "Would that even work?" he murmured.
Rose leaned forward, tears beginning to well up, her voice suddenly small, childlike. "Let's start over, Kazou. I love you."
Silence.
The train continued its steady journey south.