The scent of freshly brewed coffee curled in the air as Megan stirred her drink, slow and absentminded. She was talking—something about work stress, a weekend hike, maybe Kyoto—but her voice blurred at the edges. My mind was elsewhere. With Yuka. With Osaki. With the truth I hadn’t spoken.

Megan was Yuka’s friend. If she knew about the breakup, she hadn’t said anything. No hesitation in her tone, no careful phrasing. Just the usual chatter, like nothing had changed. She didn’t know.

Or if she did, she didn’t know everything.

I saw it clearly now: how fast things would unravel if I said too much. If I let slip that Yuka hadn’t just left Osaki—that she’d crossed a line. That the clean break everyone believed in was anything but.

The truth burned on the back of my tongue, but it wasn’t mine to give. It didn’t matter what I thought. Yuka hadn’t told Megan, and that silence was its own kind of answer.

So I stayed quiet.

Megan kept stirring, unaware. Her words filled the space between us. I nodded when I should, smiled when I had to. And as the moments passed, the silence between what I knew and what I could say grew heavier.

If Yuka wanted Megan to know, she’d tell her.

Until then, silence was the only thing I could trust.

Megan’s hand shot up before I even had a chance to process it. Her smile bloomed across her face, bright and full of an excitement I hadn’t seen in a while. Following her gaze, I spotted Uesugi stepping into the restaurant, still in his school uniform, eyes wide as he took in the warm glow of the place.

He looked almost reverent, like he had been dreaming of this moment—praying, even—for a meal here. The way he let the atmosphere settle over him, as if he were in the presence of something sacred, made me wonder just how long he had been hoping for this.

Before I could say anything, Megan had already dashed toward him, her excitement spilling over in rapid-fire words I couldn’t quite catch. She grabbed his arm, pulling him toward our table with an enthusiasm that didn’t leave much room for hesitation.

“We got a seat ready for you!” she announced, practically bouncing as she guided him to the chair across from me.

Uesugi’s expression shifted, the awe still lingering in his gaze, but now softened by something else—perhaps gratitude, perhaps surprise. I watched, sipping my drink, as he settled in.

Megan barely paused before darting off toward the cake display, her movements quick and determined. She grabbed a slice—something rich and layered—then snatched a bottle of soda before hurrying back to the table, setting them in front of Uesugi with a flourish.

“There!” she declared, breathless but triumphant.

Uesugi blinked at the offering, his fingers hesitating above the fork as if unsure whether to accept it. His gaze flickered between the cake and Megan, his mouth parting slightly, but no words came.

Then, Megan’s excitement dimmed just a fraction. A crease formed between her brows as she stared at him, something uncertain in her expression.

“Wait,” she said, voice quieter now. “Where’s Mook?” Uesugi smiled at Megan, his expression gentle but firm, as if wanting to reassure her before the words even left his mouth.

“Mook found another job,” he said, his voice steady. “He couldn’t make it this time, but he promised to come next time.” Megan’s eyes flickered with something—disappointment, maybe, but only for a brief moment before she nodded. 

“Oh,” she murmured, glancing at the untouched cake in front of him. Then, with a sudden brightness, she perked up. “Well, next time, we’ll make sure he gets the best seat.” Uesugi chuckled, reaching for his fork at last, his hesitation melting into gratitude. Uesugi set his utensils down with deliberate care, the quiet clink of metal against ceramic marking the end of his meal. He reached for his drink, taking a slow sip before glancing up, his expression touched with a hint of disbelief.

“I was really surprised when I heard Mook say you were inviting us here,” he admitted, setting his glass down gently. “I always thought you had to reserve a place at least ten days in advance.” His words hung in the air for a moment, carrying the weight of his wonder. Megan tilted her head, a satisfied smile creeping onto her lips.

“Technically, yeah,” she replied, leaning back with a casual ease. “But I have my ways.” Megan grins, tapping the side of her nose as if it were some great, untouchable secret. 

Uesugi leaned forward slightly, his curiosity piqued. “What about your parents?” he asked, his tone careful but inquisitive. “Don’t they mind you inviting strangers over like this?”

Megan barely reacted, simply shaking her head with an air of casual dismissal. “They don’t mind,” she said, a quiet confidence lacing her words. “They know Yuki isn’t going to let anything bad happen to me.”

At the sound of my name, I glanced up from my drink, the weight of her words settling in. It wasn’t the first time she had said something like that, but every time, it carried a quiet kind of trust that I didn’t take lightly. Uesugi studied her for a moment, as if considering whether to challenge her response, but he didn’t. He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head before finally picking up his fork again.

“Well,” he said, amusement slipping into his tone, “I guess that makes Yuki our unofficial security detail.” 

Megan grinned at that, nudging me playfully with her elbow. “Exactly,” she said. “No one messes with me when Yuki’s around.” I let out a low chuckle, sipping my drink as the conversation flowed around me. It wasn’t like I had asked for the role, but Megan trusted me in a way few did. And I supposed—no, I knew—I wouldn’t let her down. No matter what.

I watched Uesugi as he spoke, his voice quiet, almost hesitant, as if carefully picking his words. His gaze remained fixed on the table, avoiding Megan’s eyes like he expected some kind of judgment.

"I heard you played with Mook yesterday. Sorry if he was rude—he takes games quite seriously," he said, still not meeting her gaze.

I chuckled, shaking my head slightly. "No need to apologize," I said, setting down my drink. "I could tell he takes games seriously. It’s kind of admirable, actually."

Megan leaned back, crossing her arms with a smirk. "Yeah, Mook’s a menace when it comes to competition," she teased. "Once he’s locked in, it’s like the whole world disappears—just him and the game."

Uesugi let out a small laugh, still avoiding direct eye contact. "He’s like that with everything," he admitted. "If he’s in, he’s all in."

I nodded, thinking about the way Mook had played—not just with skill, but with a kind of passion that was hard to ignore. It wasn’t just about winning for him. It was about proving something.

"Well," I said, smiling slightly, "next time, tell him he doesn’t have to hold back. I can handle it."

Uesugi finally looked up, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I’ll let him know," he said. I sighed, leaning back in my chair as I watched Uesugi swirl the last of his drink in his cup.

“I wish I could play too,” he admitted, glancing at me. “But the controller and the game itself are so confusing.”

I chuckled, finally meeting his gaze. “Yeah, it can be a lot at first,” he said. “Mook doesn’t really help with that, does he?”

“He does but I am the problem here, how long have you been playing?”

She leaned against the fence, arms crossed. “How long have you been playing?”

“Megan started in middle school,” I said after a pause. “Two years after me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So, you’ve been playing since... what, fourth grade?”

“Pretty much, you think that’s the problem?”He shrugged, but it was the kind of shrug that wasn’t careless. More like he was trying to shrug something heavy off his shoulders and failing.

“I’ve had more time. More chances. If I was gonna be good at this, I wouldn’t be by now.” He didn't say anything for a moment. Somewhere nearby, the chain of a swingset creaked in the breeze. 

“You know,” I say finally, “maybe it’s not about being good. Maybe it’s just about wanting to try. Still wanting to try.”

I glanced at him. Not a full turn, just enough that I could see his expression soften, just slightly. “That’s easy to say when you’re not dragging the team down.”

“That’s easy to say,” Megan echoes, “when you haven’t seen yourself from the outside.”

Silence stretched again, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just... thoughtful.

She pushed off the table and nudged him lightly with her shoulder. “Besides, I am not exactly Mozart.”

He snorted. “Mook once said he wasn’t Tokido” He smiled for real then—small, but honest. The kind that didn’t need to be big to mean something.

“You’re not the problem,” she said. “You just think you are. I know you kind of want to learn for Mook, but that will be harder to fix.”