The automatic doors slid open with a soft hiss as Hasegawa and Daichi stepped out from the corporate building into the early spring evening. The sky was streaked in dying gold and mauve, city lights flickering alive one by one. A breeze rolled past them, cool against their skin, carrying a mix of exhaust fumes and crushed sakura petals lingering on the pavement.
Daichi walked a step ahead, shoulders drawn in, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. Quiet. Guarded. But Hasegawa matched his stride easily, relaxed as ever, the corners of his lips tugged into a lazy grin.
"So, stranger," Hasegawa said, catching up until their shoulders almost brushed, "are you single?"
Daichi didn't even look at him. "Ugh... already regretting this."
"Aw, don't say that. I'm just asking for the ladies in our office," Hasegawa grinned. "So? Are you?"
"None of your business, Hasegawa-san."
A low chuckle rumbled in Hasegawa's chest. "Still sharp as ever. You sure you weren't a porcupine in a past life?"
Daichi threw him a side-eye. "If I was, you'd be the idiot who tried to pet me."
"Touché."
They reached the main road where the foot traffic thickened. Office workers spilling out of nearby buildings, some heading for trains, others lingering by vending machines or convenience stores. A woman cursed under her breath as her handbag snagged on a railing. The world moved on around them, buzzing and indifferent.
Hasegawa tilted his head toward a quiet bar across the street, between a ramen shop and a florist. Its exterior was paneled in dark wood, softened by the glow of lantern lights and ivy creeping down from the awning.
"That one's good," he said. "Cheap enough not to feel like a date. Clean enough not to feel like a bribe."
Daichi slowed, eyes flicking toward it. "…Anywhere's fine. Just not your place."
Hasegawa laughed, then casually threw an arm around Daichi's shoulders as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Hey, don't knock it till you see it. You'd be shocked how clean my place is."
Daichi didn't react to the arm. But he didn't shake it off either.
***
The bell above the door jingled as they stepped in. Warmth greeted them. Subtle amber lighting, wood-paneled walls, and the mellow hum of a vintage jazz record playing from a shelf speaker near the bar. There was the faint scent of grilled mackerel and soy, woven with old sake and worn-out wood. A few salarymen occupied the tables in the corner, trading stories over beer mugs with easy laughter. The bartender, wiping a glass behind the counter, gave them a small nod but didn't say a word.
They slipped into a booth tucked against the back wall. The seat cushions were worn, the table faintly sticky at the edges. It was lived-in, but comforting.
Daichi shrugged off his coat and folded it neatly beside him. He sat with his arms crossed, back straight, posture closed. A human barricade.
Hasegawa, meanwhile, flopped into the seat across from him, sprawling like he'd claimed the whole booth as his territory. One arm draped across the backrest, the other already signaling the bartender.
"Beer?"
Daichi gave a brief nod. "Yeah."
Their drinks came quick. Two tall mugs, foam brimming and teetering at the rim. The glasses clinked without ceremony.
"Funny that we've finally reached that legal age where we can drink together like proper adults," Hasegawa said, watching the bubbles rise to the top. "Back then it was always canned coffee or juice. Pfft, lame."
Daichi hummed. A faint twitch at the corner of his mouth as he raised his mug. No smile, but a crack in the armor.
They drank. The silence sat between them. Not awkward, but solid and lived-in. Then Hasegawa leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.
"You haven't really changed… except for the hair," he said, lips curling slightly.
Daichi didn't glance up. "Neither did you. Still loud as hell. Obnoxious."
Hasegawa's smile lingered. "Still painting?"
"Sometimes."
"Still cursing like a delinquent?"
Daichi gave him a bland look. "You writing my biography now?"
"Maybe. Chapter one: The Senpai Who Threw a Bento Box and My Heart Out the Window."
Daichi sighed. "Don't romanticize it. I was aiming for your face."
Hasegawa barked out a laugh, loud enough to turn a few heads. He didn't care. Let them look.
"I missed that," he said softly, gaze falling back on Daichi.
Daichi's hand paused on his glass. Just for a moment. His fingers tightened slightly before relaxing.
"…So," Hasegawa began again, tilting his mug idly, "how've you been? You still drop by Tokyo sometimes? Visit your mom?"
There was a pause.
"I've never gone back," Daichi said, voice quiet but even. He took another sip, eyes following the condensation trail sliding down his mug. "I just check Akizuki-san's updates sometimes. On the media."
Hasegawa nodded slowly. "So... I bet you know she remarried."
"Yeah." A small nod. Another sip. Then a sigh that sounded like a release.
A beat.
Daichi looked up, almost annoyed, but more at the subject than at him. "So? Where's this big introduction to the office troublemakers you promised?"
Hasegawa grinned. "Oh, straight to business now?"
Daichi muttered into his glass, "I hate nostalgic talk."
Hasegawa let out a small laugh, not teasing this time, but warm. A little sad. He looked at Daichi, watching him in the soft bar light. The shape of his frown. The way his fingers fidgeted after each sip, like they were trying to settle a storm inside.
He hadn't changed. Not really.
And somehow, that made Hasegawa feel… lighter.
He raised his mug, smile tugging at his lips. "To strange reunions," he said, "and even stranger company."
Daichi didn't answer at first. But he lifted his glass, eyes meeting Hasegawa's for half a second.
Clink.