April 7th.

It was early morning, and I was still staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying the events of the past week.

A lot had happened since Sasaki’s shooting, and yet, somehow, the city moved on, as if the fabric of life wasn’t torn.

As I got ready for the day, something tugged at the back of my mind—a memory from the day after we rushed to the hospital, something that didn’t sit right.

That morning, I had gone straight to Sasaki’s house.

It was one of those old, tightly packed houses in the residential district—quiet and unassuming.

The kind of place you’d never think twice about if you were walking past.

Yet now, it had become a crime scene.

The moment I arrived, the sight of it unsettled me.

The house was small and neat, with a meticulously kept front yard.

The police had already taped off the area, and officers were going in and out, marking evidence and taking photographs.

There wasn’t much blood—at least not in plain sight—but there was a coldness in the air that seemed to linger even under the sunlight.

Sasaki’s car was still parked in the driveway, door ajar, the leather seats stained with dark, drying blood.

I remember standing there, staring at it, trying to wrap my head around how anyone had gotten this close to him, right in front of his own home.

The gunshots had been quick, clean, and professional.

But what really bothered me wasn’t just the precision of the hit.

It was the fact that I couldn’t find the neighbor Hana had mentioned.

The one who supposedly heard the gunshots and called the ambulance.

I walked around the block, knocked on several doors, asked questions—no one knew anything.

No one had seen or heard anything unusual.

It was as if the witness Hana spoke of had disappeared into thin air.

But at the time, with everything else going on, I didn’t dwell on it.

Back in the present, I shook the memory off and finished tying my shoes.

Today was going to be another long day.

As much as I wanted to forget everything for a moment and just breathe, I couldn’t.

There was work to be done.

I grabbed my coat and left the apartment, deciding to walk to the station this morning.

I needed the fresh air, the time to clear my head.

The morning was crisp, and the streets were beginning to come alive.

The gentle hum of traffic blended with the distant calls of street vendors setting up shop.

The soft sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting long shadows across the pavement.

As I walked, the familiar sounds of the city began to comfort me.

I watched as a small group of children in school uniforms ran past me, laughing, their backpacks bouncing as they hurried to catch the train.

Nearby, an elderly couple stood at a fruit stand, examining a selection of apples.

Life moved on, even when everything in my world felt stuck.

As I neared the station, I caught a glimpse of a delivery truck unloading boxes, the driver calling out to the workers in loud, booming instructions.

The scent of fresh bread from a nearby bakery drifted in the air, mingling with the exhaust fumes and morning mist.

It was a typical Kyoto morning, the world around me carrying on as if nothing had happened.

But for me, every step I took felt heavy, like I was dragging something invisible behind me.

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I reached the station, nodding to a couple of familiar faces outside the building.

The moment I walked through the doors, though, I realized something was off.

The air inside the station buzzed with energy, and before I could figure out why, I was met with a chorus of voices.

"Surprise! Happy birthday, Keisuke!"

A group of my colleagues shouted, their faces beaming with wide smiles.

I froze, my brain taking a second to catch up.

Birthday?

My birthday?

I’d completely forgotten.

In the whirlwind of everything with Sasaki, R.K., and The Benefactor, I hadn’t even realized the date.

Moreover, in the last few years I had not celebrated at all and so I had almost forgotten.

The station lobby was decorated with streamers and balloons, the faint scent of cake wafting through the air.

A large banner hung from the ceiling, clumsily put together, but sincere in its effort: *Happy Birthday Keisuke!*

“Ah, crap”

I muttered, scratching the back of my head, embarrassed at all the attention.

I’d spent the last week with my mind trapped in the past, chasing ghosts, and now I was standing here in the middle of a surprise party I didn’t even know I needed.

My colleagues crowded around, clapping me on the back, offering their congratulations.

Matsuoka grinned at me from across the room, holding up a piece of cake.

“Come on, man! We didn’t forget your birthday, even if you did!”

I laughed, despite myself, and for the first time in days, the knot in my chest loosened just a little.

I greeted everyone, thanked them for remembering, but deep down, I still felt the weight of Sasaki’s condition.

After a few minutes of making my rounds, I spotted Hana and Aiko standing off to the side.

Aiko smiled brightly and rushed over, pulling me into a hug.

“Happy birthday, Keisuke!”

She said, her voice full of warmth.

I hadn’t expected her to be here.

Aiko had always been the cheerful one, the one who managed to find light in the darkest places.

Even now, seeing her made me realize how much I needed some grounding.

"Thanks, Aiko"

I said, ruffling her hair like I used to when we were kids.

“And don’t think I forgot”

She added, holding up a small wrapped gift.

“It’s nothing big, but it’s from me and Kiyomi.”

Kiyomi?

Oh that's right.

My niece.

What a wonderful name.

“Come on, you didn’t have to do that”

I protested, though I was touched.

“We did!”

She insisted, pushing the gift into my hands.

“And besides, you’re not getting out of it.”

Before I could say anything else, I noticed Kozumaru-san and his wife, my elderly neighbors, standing nearby as well.

Kozumaru-san and I didn’t start off on the right foot in our relationship but we are now model neighbors.

I'm happy about that.

They had left a small letter on my desk at the station, a handwritten note of well wishes and kind words.

"Ah, Keisuke, you’re almost sixty!"

Kozumaru-san teased, his wife chuckling beside him.

I thanked them sincerely, feeling a warmth spread through my chest.

For a moment, the weight of the past week faded away, replaced by a sense of belonging and support.

Despite everything that was going on, there were people here who cared about me, who had taken the time to celebrate a day I hadn’t even remembered.

Hana stood a little apart from the crowd, a soft smile on her face.

She was the one who had organized this, I realized.

Of course she had.

Despite the tension between us, she always thought of others.

“Hey”

I said as I approached her, my voice quiet amidst the noise.

“Hey yourself”

She replied, her eyes flicking up to meet mine.

“Thank you”

I said, meaning it.

“For all this.”

She shrugged, but I could see the emotion behind her casual gesture.

"Taichi-san would’ve wanted us to do something for you. He never let us skip celebrating birthdays, remember?”

I did remember.

Sasaki had always insisted on marking birthdays, no matter how busy or chaotic things got.

It was his way of reminding us that we were more than just cops—that we were people with lives outside of the cases.

The mention of his name brought the weight back, and I could see it in Hana’s eyes too.

She was putting on a brave face, but the fear and sadness were still there, just below the surface.

“I wish he could be here”

I said quietly.

“He’d be glad we’re doing this”

Hana replied softly.

“He wouldn’t want us to be sad. He’d want us to celebrate, to live.”

I nodded, though it didn’t make the ache any less.

The day passed in a blur of well-wishers and small celebrations.

The cake was shared, gifts exchanged, and laughter filled the station.

But throughout it all, I couldn’t fully shake the feeling of heaviness that had settled in my chest.

Sasaki’s condition loomed over everything, a constant reminder that while we celebrated here, he was fighting for his life in a hospital bed.

As the day wound down and people began to leave, Hana and I found ourselves alone in the station, the lights dimming as the sun began to set.

The air felt different now—quieter, more intimate.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble”

I said, leaning against the desk, watching as she straightened up some papers.

“But I’m glad you did.”

“You needed it”

Hana replied, not looking up from her task.

“We all did.”

For a moment, we were both silent, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us.

It had been building for weeks—months, even—but we’d always pushed it aside, too focused on the case, on work, on everything else.

But now, with the station quiet and the weight of the day behind us, there was no more avoiding it.

“Hana…”

I began, unsure of how to start.

She looked up at me, her eyes soft, and I could see that she already knew what I was going to say.

She’d been thinking about it too—about us, about what had been left unsaid for so long.

“We’ve been through a lot”

I said slowly, trying to find the right words.

“And I don’t know if now is the best time, but…”

Her gaze didn’t waver, and she stepped closer, her voice soft when she spoke.

“I think it is.”

We stood there for a moment, the air between us thick with everything we hadn’t said.

The tension, the fear, the worry—it all melted away as we finally let down the walls we’d built around ourselves.

Without thinking, I closed the distance between us, my hand finding hers.

For a brief moment, we hesitated, and then, as if by some unspoken agreement, we leaned in.

Our lips met softly, tentatively, but the kiss quickly deepened, all the emotions we’d kept buried for so long flooding to the surface.

When we finally pulled away, breathless, I rested my forehead against hers, my heart racing.

“We’ll get through this”

I whispered, though whether I was talking about us or about Sasaki, I wasn’t sure.

She smiled.