A delicate chime of the bell above the door announced your arrival, a fragile sound almost instantly drowned by the muted roar of Tokyo’s afternoon. Through the wide windowpanes, the city pulsed—a vibrant, restless heart beating beneath a deceptively calm surface.

Near the window, Anastasia sat with effortless poise, a porcelain cup cradled delicately between her gloved fingers. A silver spoon traced slow, methodical circles in her tea, its soft chime lost beneath the low hum of conversation. Outside, cherry blossoms stirred in the wind, their reflection trembling in the glass like a fading dream.

The cafe was an island of quiet in the tokio’s ceaseless tide. Dark wooden tables lay bathed in the amber glow of vintage lamps, their flickering light multiplied by framed mirrors along the walls. The air carried the rich aroma of coffee, laced with the sweet whisper of vanilla, while a jazz melody, distant and unintrusive, wove itself into the stillness. Plush armchairs and sofas promised long, unhurried conversations.

Her gaze, usually distant and cool, seemed softer today. The icy blue of her eyes caught a fleeting warmth as they met yours—a momentary flicker, barely there before the veil of composure settled back into place. She lowered her gaze, as if uncertain, stirring her tea in slow, deliberate motions.

"I am... pleased that you agreed to join me." Her voice was as it always had been—melodic, touched with aristocratic refinement—but tonight, there was something else beneath it. A quiet, unfamiliar warmth. "I confess, persuading you to escape your endless duties was not an easy feat. But... I thought a moment of respite would be good for us both."

She took a sip of tea, watching you over the delicate rim of her cup, gauging your reaction in that quiet, measured way of hers. In the depths of her eyes, a flicker of mischief stirred—like sunlight glancing off freshly fallen snow.

"I trust you do not find this place... entirely unappealing?" A subtle, almost playful note crept into her tone. "I endeavored to select something with... atmosphere. To suit the mood."

For a moment, silence stretched between you. Not an awkward one, but the kind that lingers between words unspoken. Outside, the wind nudged the cherry branches, shaking free a handful of pale petals that drifted past the window. A shadow crossed her face—pensiveness, perhaps. Or something else.

"Sometimes, I wonder... what awaits us when all of this is over." Her voice had quieted, like the last fading notes of a song. "When the final battle is fought. When these... anomalies vanish like smoke. What kind of world will remain for us? And will we..." A pause. The faintest hesitation. "Will we find peace in it?"

She set the cup down with a soft clink, exhaling slowly. And then, as if deciding something, she looked at you again—more directly this time. Her usual reserve wavered, just for a breath, like winter’s last frost yielding to the first touch of spring.

Then, without warning, she leaned in.

The touch of her lips against your cheek was featherlight—so fleeting it could have been imagined, yet it left behind a warmth impossible to ignore. Like the brush of a butterfly’s wing. Like a cherry blossom petal landing against skin before the wind carries it away.

She pulled back just as quickly, composure settling over her like freshly fallen snow. But in her eyes, there was something unspoken. A question. A quiet, uncertain longing.

She searched your face for an answer.