Her breath ragged as she ran, unsure of where she was going but desperate. The alley behind the bar was quiet, the dim glow of a flickering streetlight barely cutting through the night’s darkness. Her heart raced in time with her footsteps, each one echoing too loudly in the silence.

“You look lost,” a voice cut through the noise, soft but direct. 

A figure appeared in the doorway, the soft rustle of a trash bag being tossed aside in the rain as the woman stepped into the alley- Yumi. She stood with a casual confidence, eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the sight of Kiko—a stranger to her, but somehow not. Kiko turned, startled by the unexpected attention. Yumi’s dark eyes were sharp yet somehow kind. Her presence was commanding, even though she hadn’t said much.

“You need a drink, or… something else?” Yumi’s smile was small, but it carried the weight of someone who knew exactly what they wanted.

For a moment, Kiko couldn’t speak—her words stuck, and she felt her pulse quicken under the rain and the woman’s gaze. Yumi was studying her, sizing her up as if she already knew Kiko’s story without her saying a word.

“It’s alright,” Yumi continued, her voice warm, almost like a promise. “I’ll take care of you.. you’re gonna catch a cold standing in the rain like that, you know.  

Kiko hesitated for a moment, then followed Yumi up the narrow staircase, the creaking steps echoing under their weight. The climb was tight, but Yumi moved effortlessly, like she had done it a thousand times before. Kiko, on the other hand, felt the weight of her uncertainty pressing in, the dark hallway above seeming to close in around her.

At the top of the stairs, Yumi pushed open a door, revealing the warm glow of the bar inside. The low hum of jazz music filled the air, mingling with the clink of glasses and the murmur of quiet conversations. Yumi greeted a fellow coworker with a brief nod before turning to Kiko, extending her hand.

“This way,” she said, her voice smooth, guiding Kiko through the small space. The lights from behind Yumi cast her silhouette in soft glow as she led Kiko into the room, creating a warmth that contrasted with the cool, damp evening outside.

Kiko stepped into the bar, her senses immediately caught by the atmosphere—the dim lighting, the people standing around round tables, some smoking, others sipping their drinks, talking in low voices. A small stage sat at one end of the room, instruments scattered across it, and a pianist played a smooth, soulful jazz piece that seemed to settle over the entire room.

Yumi took Kiko straight to the bar, her movements confident and deliberate. Behind it, she moved effortlessly, the familiar rhythm of a bartender in her element.

“I know exactly what you need,” Yumi said with a smile, her hands already reaching for bottles, the sound of liquid filling the air. She mixed something quickly, the precise movements of someone who had done this a thousand times.

Kiko, feeling the chill of the rain still on her skin, shrugged off her soaked coat and draped it over a chair, her fingers brushing the strap of her bag. She slid it under the tall bar chair, watching Yumi work.

“Here,” Yumi said as she slid the drink across the counter to Kiko. “One glass of comfort. I call it ‘Yumi’s Warm Embrace.’”

The drink was a rich, amber color, steam rising gently from the surface. It was a whiskey coffee, strong but smooth, with just a hint of sweetness to balance the warmth. Kiko reached for the glass, her fingers brushing the rim as she took a sip. The warmth of it spread through her chest, the heat of the whiskey mingling with the comforting richness of the coffee.

“I didn’t ask your name,” Yumi said, glancing over at her with a small, curious smile.

“Kiko,” she replied, her voice a little hoarse from the rain. “And you?”

“Yumi,” Yumi said, her smile softening, as if she was pleased by the simplicity of the moment. “Nice to meet you, Kiko.”

Kiko nodded, her gaze drifting across the room as Yumi turned back to the bar. The pianist’s fingers danced across the keys, playing with a kind of intimacy that resonated in Kiko’s chest.

The warmth of the whiskey seemed to melt something in her. She sat back, relaxing a little, then spoke again. “Just one moment” Kiko said, standing up and giving Yumi a quick smile before pushing her chair back. Her hand hovered over her glass for a moment before she walked toward

the pianist, moving quietly across the floor. She whispered something in his ear, and he nodded without a word, adjusting the song’s tempo as if he understood.

Yumi watched her go, her thoughts momentarily distracted by the music. But something pulled at her, a sudden urge to move, to do something—anything. So she walked out of the bar, leaning towards the wall, quietly listening and focusing on Kiko standing on the small stage.

Kiko made her way to the mic, the spotlight momentarily blinding her as she adjusted the stand. She could feel the eyes of the room shift toward her, the weight of their gaze both heavy and expectant.

Yumi, standing towards the stage watched curiously, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the sight of Kiko preparing to sing. There was something about the way Kiko held herself, the quiet confidence in her movements, that made Yumi wonder just who this stranger was.

And then Kiko’s voice broke through the silence, clear and powerful. She sang, not with the practiced perfection of a performer, yet.. she seemed skilled on another level as an artist. However she also had this raw, aching emotion that only someone who had lived, could bring to a song. The room fell silent, everyone mesmerized by the depth of her voice, the way it filled the space and it resonated with something deeper than words could explain.

Yumi stood still, long forgotten the warmth of the drink she had made. A faint smile started curling on her lips. In that moment, she knew this was no ordinary woman. She wasn’t sure yet what Kiko was running from, but she had a feeling that, somehow, Kiko was about to change everything. 

The final note lingered in the air as the applause slowly began to die down. Kiko stepped back from the microphone, her fingers trembling slightly despite the poised look on her face. She cast a quick glance toward Yumi, who was leaning against the wall near the bar, arms crossed, her lips curved in a faint, knowing smile.

Kiko descended the stage, her steps steady even as her heart raced. Yumi met her halfway, her presence calm and grounding.

“You’re extraordinary,” Yumi said simply, her voice low and warm, but there was a sharpness in her gaze—an intensity that didn’t miss a thing. “We’ve been looking for a voice like yours. You should join my band.”

Kiko blinked, momentarily caught off guard. She adjusted the strap of her dress on her shoulder and took a moment to steady herself before answering.

“Your band?” she repeated, her voice quiet but deliberate.

Yumi nodded, her expression unwavering. “Yes. We play here every weekend, but I want to take it further. You’ve got something rare, Kiko. You could be part of something… more.”

Kiko tilted her head slightly, her green eyes narrowing as if to gauge the sincerity of Yumi’s words. Then she exhaled, her vulnerability slipping through for just a moment as her fingers tightened around the edge of the strap.

“Alright,” she said, her tone soft but measured. “But there’s one condition.”

Yumi’s eyebrow lifted, her curiosity piqued. “Name it.”

Kiko’s eyes flickered, and for the first time that night, the weight of her circumstances became visible. She held herself with an elegance that seemed at odds with the tension in her shoulders.

“You’ll have to let me live with you,” Kiko said carefully, meeting Yumi’s gaze directly. There was no attempt to hide the truth in her voice now. “I have nowhere else to go.”

Yumi didn’t respond right away. She studied Kiko, her sharp mind quickly picking up the cracks in her polished exterior. There was no judgment in her expression, only quiet understanding.

“Why?” Yumi asked gently, her voice inviting honesty.

Kiko hesitated, her green eyes flickering downward. “There’s…” she paused, searching for the right words, “a… loanshark. He’s after me.” Her voice tightened, but she forced herself to look up again, her vulnerability laid bare for just a moment.

Yumi’s dark eyes softened, and she gave the smallest nod, her lips curving into a faint, reassuring smile.

“Alright,” Yumi said, as if the decision had already been made. “You can stay with me.”

Kiko blinked, her composed mask slipping as surprise flashed across her face.

“Why?” she asked, her tone a touch sharper than intended, but there was no hiding the disbelief in her voice.

Yumi shrugged, a casual confident elegance in her movements. “Because I can.” Her voice was calm but carried a subtle warmth that made Kiko’s tension ease just slightly.

The rain continued to fall as they walked through the quiet streets, the city lights reflected in the wet pavement. Kiko followed Yumi up a narrow set of stairs tucked between two buildings. They were steep, the kind that seemed to shoot straight into the sky.

At the top, Yumi unlocked the door to her apartment and pushed it open, the soft glow of warm light spilling out into the dark night.

“Welcome home,” came a voice from inside.

Kiko stepped hesitantly into the small space, her eyes adjusting to the cozy yet cluttered apartment. A man was standing near the couch, his sharp gaze immediately locking onto her. He was tall, with dark red hair neatly styled—short on the sides, longer on top, falling just slightly into his grey eyes.

“Who’s this?” he asked, his tone measured but carrying an undercurrent of tension.

“Taka,” Yumi said, setting her bag down on the counter by the door. “This is Kiko. She’s our new singer.”

Taka’s expression tightened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a casual shrug. “And?”

Yumi’s tone remained light but firm. “And she’ll be staying with us.”

Taka’s sharp eyes flicked back to Kiko, assessing her in silence. He crossed his arms. “Since when do we take in strangers off the street?”

Yumi turned toward him, her expression calm but carrying an unspoken authority. “You trust me, don’t you, Taka?” she said quietly. “Please make her feel welcome.”

Taka exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “Fine,” he muttered, turning toward the small kitchen. “I’ll make some tea.”

Kiko stood silently, watching as Taka moved with quiet efficiency. Yumi motioned for her to follow and led her into the second room.

“It’s not much,” Yumi said, glancing around the small bedroom. “But we can make it work.”

Kiko studied the room, her fingers brushing against the edge of the dresser. “It’s perfect,” she said softly, her voice steadier now. She turned back to Yumi, offering a faint smile. “Thank you.”

Yumi returned the smile, her dark eyes warm. “Don’t mention it,” she said simply.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the rain tapping softly against the window. Yumi leaned against the doorframe, her relaxed posture belying the sharp mind that was quietly piecing together the story Kiko wasn’t yet ready to share.

The rain continued to patter softly against the window as Kiko ran her fingers along the walls towards the window, her gaze momentarily distant. Despite the modest space, there was something grounding about it, something that felt safe for the first time in what felt like ages.

Yumi leaned against the doorframe, her hands tucked casually into her pockets, watching Kiko with a thoughtful expression. After a moment, she straightened up, stepping forward and holding out her hand.

“So, I guess from now on, we’ll be roommates,” Yumi said with a small, easy smile, her tone carrying a playful warmth.

Kiko glanced at Yumi’s outstretched hand, then back up at her face, before accepting the handshake with a faint, grateful smile of her own.

Yumi chuckled softly, the sound light and genuine, filling the small room. “Well,” she said, stepping back slightly, “until we can figure out another setup, you can take my bed tonight. I’ll use the spare futon.”

Kiko’s brow furrowed slightly, and she shook her head. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice soft but tinged with concern. “I don’t want to impose any more than I already have. I’m fine with the futon. Actually, it might make me feel better.”

Yumi tilted her head slightly, studying Kiko’s face. Her sharp eyes softened, and the corner of her lips quirked into a small, reassuring smile. “Kiko,” she said gently, “I just want to make sure you rest, after… whatever kind of night you’ve had. Don’t worry about it.” Yumi warmly smiles.

Kiko hesitated, searching Yumi’s expression for any sign of hesitation or pity, but there was none—only warmth and sincerity.

Yumi gave a small, almost playful shrug. “So, for tonight, take the bed. Tomorrow, you can sleep on the futon as much as you’d like, if that’ll make you feel better.”

Her smile deepened, and there was something so genuine about it that Kiko felt her resistance falter. Yumi wasn’t just offering kindness; she was offering space to breathe, a moment to recover without feeling like a burden.

After a moment, Kiko nodded, a tiny flicker of gratitude crossing her otherwise composed face. “Alright,” she said quietly, her voice steadier now. “Thank you, Yumi.”

Yumi stepped back toward the doorway, her hands returning to her pockets. “Don’t mention it,” she said simply, her tone warm and unassuming. She glanced toward the window, the rain still tapping softly against the glass, and added with a faint laugh, “I’ll leave you to settle in. If you need anything, just let me know. I´ll keep the tea warm for you.”

With that, she turned and left the room, giving Kiko a moment alone to take it all in—the quiet apartment, the safety of the four walls, and the unfamiliar but comforting warmth of someone who cared enough to share their space without question. 

The faint glow of the city lights seeped through the thin curtains, painting the room in muted gold. She gazed at the window for a moment, her reflection faint against the glass.

“Can I trust anyone?” she murmured, almost to herself. Her voice was quiet, nearly lost in the ambient hum of the city outside. “Even the ones with warm smiles at first… And what will happen if—”

The sentence hung in the air, unfinished. The weight of the unspoken words pressed down on her chest as she lay back against the pillow. Her gaze lingered on the window a moment longer before she closed her eyes in thoughts. 

Tomorrow would come soon enough, with answers she wasn’t sure if she wanted to find..