(Seeing Jin for the first time after losing your memories)
Two years ago, you woke up from a coma.
Ever since then, you've lived with a feeling you can't quite explain.
Like you've forgotten something important.
But there's one thing that always lingers...the smell of smoke.
You’re at a Frostheim Ball. Your boss had brought you along, telling you that it’ll be a good experience. A chance to network and meet clients.
But it’s exhausting. Everyone’s smiling too much. Speaking too carefully. You’d think it was a masquerade with all the masks everyone's wearing.
Eventually, you excuse yourself and slip outside for a bit.
From the cobblestone on the ground, to the garden expanding the property, it all looks so beautiful. Feels like a crime to smoke here. And yet, you find a secluded bench tucked beside one of the buildings and sink into it.
It’s hidden. Perfect.
You pull a cigarette from your pocket and light it.
The first drag settles your nerves. You close your eyes.
“Smoking all the way out here?”
You jolt, nearly jumping off the seat.
“S-Sorry, I’ll leave–”
“No. Stay.”
The voice is deep. Low. Almost cold.
A man stands before you.
You look up, squinting as the sun shines in your eyes.
Beautiful isn’t quite the right word. He looks unreal.
Silver hair that catches light in just the perfect ways. Eyes, that resemble clear glass. Sharp features that should only belong to sculptures and statues.
You look away.
'Intimidating' doesn't suffice.
“O-Ok. Thank you.”
You try to relax back into the bench, but he sits beside you.
Not too close. But not too far either.
You assume he’s here for a smoke break too, but he doesn’t reach for a cigarette. Instead, he stares out into the flower fields.
The two of you sit in awkward silence. Until-
“When’d you pick up the habit?”
You blink.
“Excuse me?”
“Smoking. When'd you start.”
“Oh.” You take a timid drag to buy a second. “Hmm…Maybe 2 years ago.”
“...Why?”
For a second, you think of lying.
The real story is messy and long.
But for some reason, you don’t. You feel like you shouldn’t.
“I woke up from a coma…a year long coma.”
He doesn’t reply. Doesn’t even move a muscle.
You laugh softly.
“People usually get surprised when I say that.”
He glances back at you. Your heart does something weird and you immediately look down. His eyes go back to the garden.
“Why?”
“Huh?”
“Why’d you start?”
Strange. He’s really interested in your smoking habits.
“I’m not so sure. I never wanted to before. But after I woke up...I had this craving for something.” You exhale slowly, watching the smoke disappear into the air. “Passed someone smoking on the street one day. I liked the smell I guess.”
This time, you see it. A slight twitch in his shoulder.
Silence settles. It’s something you usually hate. It reminds you of waking up in that hospital room. That empty room. With no one around you. Utterly confused, yet knowing that you'd just lost something important.
But this silence seems different. Familiar. Like you’ve already done this before.
Suddenly, the man moves toward you. He takes the cigarette from your lips. Then, slowly places it in his mouth.
You furrow your brows in confusion.
“What are you–”
“Wait.”
He pulls something out of his own pockets. A case of cigarettes. A brand that you’ve never seen. Far too expensive for your local convenience stores.
He slides one out. One of his last few.
And places it in your mouth.
“Um–”
He leans forward. The tip of his cigarette touches yours.
He's so close.
And for a second, you forget how to breathe. The whole time, his ethereal eyes never once leave your face.
Fire transfers a small glow. Finally he pulls away.
He takes one drag and immediately grimaces.
“Don’t buy these ones. They taste like shit.”
All the tension resolves at once and you can’t help but laugh.
“What?” He frowns. “What’s so funny?”
That frown slowly turns into a faint smile.
But it’s gone in an instant. Like the smoke in the air.
His phone vibrates. He checks the screen.
A text. From a man named 'Tohma.'
“Tch.”
He stands.
“You’re going?” you ask a bit too desperately.
You expect him to leave without another word. He seems like that type of guy.
Instead he hesitates.
He glances behind to look at you.
“You should quit…It’s bad for you.”
You almost laugh. Almost. But there’s a lump in your throat. And a sharp sting in your chest.
He leaves.
Silence comes again.
This time, it’s the one you hate.
You stare at the cigarette in your hand. The budding flowers. Then the path he’s disappeared down.
Why does your chest hurt? Why do your eyes burn?
You lean back and cover your face with your arm, hiding from the sky.
The sharp pain turns into a familiar emptiness. The emptiness that’s followed you ever since the coma.
But now it’s worse. It’s unbearable.
Because for a few minutes—it had disappeared...by that man’s presence.
Your eyes snap open.
The cigarette falls.
Your feet start moving on their own, carrying you forward.
Past the bench. Past the garden.
Toward the silver-haired figure walking away.
“Wait,” you whisper. He doesn’t hear. You run faster.
“Wait!”
This time, the man stops. He turns. Eyes wide at your appearance.
You reach him, breathless. Heart pounding.
You don’t know why you’re here.
You don’t know why stopping him feels so important.
You don’t even know who he is.
All you know is that you couldn’t just let him leave.
Aor the first time, you choose to look at him.
“W-What’s your name?”
For a second, he just watches you.
Then walks closer. And closer.
Till he’s right in front of you.
“You came to this party without knowing that?” A smirk grows on his lips. Yet, something lonely settles in his eyes.
“It’s Jin Kamurai....Make sure to remember it this time.”
