The hotel lounge felt like a hollow shell, its dim amber lighting casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors and sleek furniture.

  Beyond the wide, floor-to-ceiling windows, Tokyo’s skyline shimmered with a deceptive calm—neon signs flickering in the distance, their colors bleeding into the night like a watercolor painting. The muffled hum of the city outside clashed with the suffocating silence within, broken only by the soft, hiccuping sobs of Emi, who sat curled into herself on one of the plush gray couches.

  Her small frame trembled, knees drawn up to her chest, her face buried in her fists as tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving faint streaks on her pale skin. Her braid had unraveled completely during the chaos of the ambush, and now her long brown hair hung in messy waves, clinging to her damp face.

  The vibrant, bubbly Emi who always filled the air with laughter and teasing was gone, replaced by this fragile version that Niko barely recognized—and he hated it.

  Niko stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, his wiry frame tense, his hands still trembling from the adrenaline of the night.

  The police interviews had been grueling—endless questions about the gunfire, the unmarked vans, the men in black who’d descended on them like a storm. He’d stumbled through his answers, his mind replaying the moment Charlie had shouted for them to run, her voice raw with desperation.

  But now, seeing Emi like this, a different kind of panic gripped him. She was his rock—his loud, fearless, annoying rock who’d been dragging him into her chaos since they were kids. Now, she wasn’t a rock, more like something small, fragile—something he wanted to tuck away to make sure nothing ever happened to it. And he had no idea what to do with that.

  Swallowing hard, Niko forced himself to move, his sneakers scuffing softly against the floor as he approached the couch. He sat down beside her, leaving a careful gap between them, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat, heavy and useless.

  “Emi…” he started, his voice cracking. He winced, clearing his throat. “I… I’m sure Charlie’s okay. She’s tough, right? Toughest person we know.” Emi’s sobs only deepened, her shoulders shaking harder, and Niko cursed under his breath, running a hand through his messy hair. *Yep, and that’s why you don’t talk to women, idiot.*

  He glanced at her, then away, his eyes darting to the city lights outside as if they might offer some kind of answer.

  They’d been friends since elementary school, since the days they’d skipped class to play at internet cafés, shouting at each other over pixelated battlegrounds. Emi had always been the one to pull him out of his shell, teasing him mercilessly until he cracked a smile, her laughter bright enough to drown out his constant worrying. He’d always relied on her, and now he realized, stupidly, he’d never considered if she would ever need him.

  Awkwardly, he shrugged off his jacket—a worn, black hoodie that smelled faintly of energy drinks and the cheap cologne Emi always teased him for wearing—and draped it over her shoulders, the fabric slipping slightly as he adjusted it.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “You’re, uh, shivering,” he mumbled, even though he wasn’t sure if she was. He just needed to do something.

  Emi didn’t react, her fists still pressed against her eyes, her breathing uneven, and Niko’s heart sank. He’d always been bad at this—comforting people, saying the right thing. But now it was worse. Because it was Emi. Because he found that he couldn’t stand seeing her cry like that.

  They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, the gap between them both a comfort and a chasm. Emi didn’t even look up, her sobs growing quieter but no less heartbreaking, each one a small, shuddering gasp that made Niko feel like he was being punched in the gut. He’d always hated seeing her upset, but this—this was different. This wasn’t something he could joke his way out of. This was something worse, and he found that he desperately needed to fix it.

  Suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind, sharp and impulsive. Without a word, Niko shot to his feet, the abrupt movement making the couch creak softly. Emi’s head jerked up, her tear-streaked face blinking in confusion as she watched him dart out of the lounge, his sneakers squeaking against the floor.

  “Niko?” she called weakly, her voice hoarse, but he was already gone, disappearing down the hallway with a determined stride.

  Niko’s eyes scanned the corridor, his jaw set, his heart pounding with a strange mix of resolve and nerves. The hotel’s hallways were quiet, the carpeted floors muffling his footsteps as he moved, glancing left and right. Finally, he spotted it—an illuminated vending machine tucked into a small alcove, its bright display glowing like a beacon in the dim light.

  He skidded to a stop in front of it, fumbling for his wallet with shaky hands. His credit card slipped out, and he jammed it into the slot, his fingers moving with frantic precision as he punched in selection after selection. Chips, candy bars, soda cans, packets of gummies—item after item dropped into the tray with a satisfying thud, each one a small victory. He didn’t stop until the machine was empty, his arms overflowing with a chaotic assortment of snacks, the plastic wrappers crinkling loudly as he gathered them up.

  When he returned to the lounge, Emi was still on the couch, her hands now resting limply in her lap, her eyes red and puffy as she stared at the floor. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps, her mouth falling open in shock as Niko dumped the entire haul onto the couch beside her—chips spilling over the cushions, a can of soda rolling onto the floor, a bag of gummy worms landing precariously on her knee.

  She stared at the pile, then at Niko, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and bewilderment. “What… what the hell, Niko?” she managed, her voice still thick with tears but now carrying a lighter edge.

  Niko grinned, a rare, genuine smile that lit up his usually anxious face. “I didn’t know what you’d want,” he said simply, shrugging as he plopped back down beside her, a bag of chips crunching under his weight. “Plus, you know you’d finish all this anyway.” His tone was teasing, his eyes soft as they searched her face.

  Emi’s lips twitched, a small laugh bubbling up from her chest, then another, until she was laughing fully, the sound bright and shaky but real. The tears still clung to her lashes, but they weren’t falling anymore, and for the first time since the ambush, a spark of her old self flickered back to life. “You’re an idiot,” she said, her voice wobbly but warm, a faint smile breaking through as she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

  Niko’s grin softened, his eyes warming as he watched her laugh, relief washing over him.

  Emi sniffed and started sifting through the snacks, her brow furrowing slightly. Niko froze, a flicker of worry crossing his face—had he messed up again?

  “Why are none of these Japanese snacks?” Emi asked, her lips pursing as she looked unimpressed at the selection.

  “What?!” Niko’s voice shot up, indignant. “I buy you a whole freakin’ machine’s worth of snacks, and that’s what you say?”

  Emi gave him a flat stare, her tone dry. “You went to the one machine in the hotel that doesn’t have Japanese snacks, didn’t you? Even though we all joked that no one would ever buy stuff from that one.”

  Niko stared at her, incredulity painting his face, though a small part of him was just glad to see the Emi he knew coming back. “Well, if it bothers you so much—” He started gathering the snacks in his arms, pulling them away from her with exaggerated motions.

  “Hey!” Emi cried, snatching back a chocolate bar with a quick swipe. “I never said I didn’t want them!”

  They fell back into their usual bickering, the sound of rustling snack packets and Emi’s occasional laugh filling the lounge. Niko realized, as he watched her munch on the chocolate bar with a teasing glare, that he’d empty every vending machine in Tokyo if it meant keeping Emi like this: his loud, fearless, annoying rock.

  ?