They always knew it would happen, one way or the other.

In her case, it was the other way.

Kasumi Goto had known that a happily ever after with Keiji was near to impossible – naively idealistic even. It was why she had not allowed herself to build up hopes for a future with him and only lived in the present, the here and now; whatever she could have today, she would gladly take. Basking in the joys of the present because there would be nothing to guarantee they would still be there tomorrow.

Have no expectations and you will encounter less disappointments. That was the rule she had always lived by ever since her grandmother had kicked the bucket and she had turned to thievery, living a life constantly on the edge and on the go.

Unlike other women, Kasumi had no dreams of a big and glamorous wedding, no ambitions of owning a large home with a loving husband or having kids and raising them together and growing old and wrinkled with each other. There existed some sort of unspoken, mutual agreement between her and Keiji. They did not talk about future plans together like other couples; did not share dreams or ambitions or make plans more than a few days ahead and neither did they voice out any expectations they might have had from each other. Their relationship was not a conventional one, but it worked. And she loved him all the same.

So when a week had passed and there was still no sign of Keiji, she knew better than to expect anything other than the obvious.

She acclimatised to a life without him. She was a thief. It was what she did. When the unseen forces threw all sorts of situations at her, she just adapted to them. It was in her job description. She was used to this. She knew how this worked.

So little by little, the traces of a second person ever having lived in their discreet apartment on the Citadel began to disappear. His portions of the spaces in the flat were emptied out, her things rearranged to fill up the extra space. The fridge was soon devoid of fresh food; it seemed rather pointless to keep it stocked for just one person and there was no one to wheedle her into making home-cooked ramen anymore. Small belongings strewn about the flat were collected and disposed of. His clothes were donated. Tech devices sold. Most were thrown out.

She was a thief. A master at adaptation. There was no need for keepsakes, sentimentalities.

That was what she told herself every day.

She came by the apartment less, now. Taking on bigger heists and more long-distance jobs meant the flat was only occupied two or three times a week. The place began to look more like her own, a cluttered, organised mess that no one but her could have figured out. Her and perhaps one other person. Keiji knew of her untidy tendencies and was usually the one who cleaned up around the house. She distantly remembered a time when she would leave the house in a mess in the morning and come back later to find everything back in order, with a greeting of "Okaeri." followed by some scolding.

Well, not any more.

Not long after, she began seeing Keiji everywhere. Standing by the railing overlooking the Presidium grounds, creeping among the rafters during a heist, in front of a Tupari machine buying a drink while she waited for her shuttle. Kasumi turned away from those images – she knew they were not real. She knew, but it took all her strength just to avert her eyes every time she saw him again.

Kasumi tried to banish Keiji from her memory – she tried. As she stared at herself in the mirror every night before going to sleep, she told herself to delete the files in her graybox implant. It would not erase the memory of his existence - that was unforgiveable, but the memories she had of him. Of the time they had had together. Their time as partners, friends, lovers.

She always turned away. 'Tomorrow,' she tells herself every night, as she turns her back to the mirror lays down on the bed. 'I'll do it tomorrow.'

Only to repeat the exact same sequence night after night.

She no longer expected to use the kitchen in the apartment again, or visit their favourite restaurant by the Presidium lake or return home to find any messes she had left cleaned up with a kiss and nagging waiting for her or to be greeted with a 'welcome back' every time she stepped through that door.

No expectations. No disappointments. But she realised that she had expected perhaps just a little more time.

A/N:

Aaand we're off to a rather angsty start. It didn't even turn out the way I wanted.

This is part of the Under-Served Character Challenge at the Afterlife forums; participants have one year to write twenty chapters on an under-served character. My choice was Kasumi. Just so everyone knows, my username was not derived from Kasumi Goto - I've already been having this nickname for years, even before I even knew about Mass Effect.

So, I get from the games that Kasumi is a rather sentimental character so some may argue it was uncharacteristic of her to throw out everything of Keiji's and have no keepsakes. But I meant it to be that she was just trying exceptionally hard to be strong... but failed. D:

A note about 'tadaima': Otaku readers definitely already know this, but this is for the benefit of readers who don't. In Japan, it is a cultural custom to say "Tadaima!" every time you come back home. This translates to "I'm back!". Usually, family members or those sharing living quarters with the person would then respond with "Okaeri!" which would mean "Welcome home!".

- Kasumi Not Goto