On any other day, she would have passed by unnoticed—or perhaps, unnoticed by someone who didn't know better. Across the throng, another figure moves with purpose, his steps measured and deliberate, not yet aware that his path is about to shift.

Today, unlike every other day, the universe tilts ever so slightly, a subtle ripple in the fabric of time and fate. Once, not so long ago, the cosmos trembled under the weight of chaos, a balance nearly shattered by one who sought to defy the gods themselves. In the wake of that defiance, the Chousin rewove existence, smoothing the cracks left behind by Z's final act. But even perfection has its imperfections.

This tilt, this faint ripple, is one such imperfection—small enough to escape divine notice, yet powerful enough to alter the course of two lives. Two lives, once destined to remain forever strangers, edge toward an intersection that was never meant to happen.

What should have been another ordinary day becomes the first page of a story unaccounted for—a story born of chance, defiance, and a meeting that was never supposed to be.

The marketplace hums with life, a patchwork of vibrant colors and melodies of chatter that weave through the air. It's a scene as ordinary as any other day in this universe—a place where lives intersect without acknowledgment, where faces blend into the crowd, each lost in their own rhythm.

Washu, in her adult form strolls leisurely among the bustling stalls, her radiant red hair tied back into a loose ponytail that sways gently with her movements. Dressed in fitted denim shorts and a light, off-shoulder blouse that invites fleeting second glances, she seems effortlessly at ease. Her emerald earrings glint in the warm, late spring sunlight, subtly echoing the vivid green of her eyes as she blends into the mosaic of locals and tourists.

In the same market, on the other hand, a man stands out despite his attempt to remain inconspicuous. Towering over the predominantly local crowd, his rugged frame is clad in dark jeans, a summer-weight short sleeved button-down shirt and sturdy, worn boots. His full beard frames his sharp features, his brown eyes covered aviator sunglasses as he scans the crowd with a practiced vigilance, always alert yet seemingly calm as he looks for threats that aren't there. A habit from decades of experience as a combat veteran of the battlefields of the world. Not exactly required for his daily walk to the bar nearest the place he's renting, but he tells himself it's a useful habit.

His attention is suddenly arrested by a flash of bright red hair that glimmers in the sea of locals. He takes off his glasses, hanging them on his shirt as he gets a better look, his eyes adjusting to the bright sun. She turns, a flash of swaying red hair as it catches the sunlight along with her green eyes. Durante studies her face. A pale but flawless complexion that was strikingly elegant yet carried an unmistakable air of sharp intellect. Everything around Durante seems to stop. His heart skips a beat, and his breathing halts for just a moment. It's her. The woman he's seen in his dreams on and off for almost three millennia.

"It's her… it's really her," Durante half whispers to himself in almost a daze.

He begins walking toward the woman, carefully weaving through the crowd, his eyes never leaving her as if to make sure she wasn't a mirage. Washu was busy pursuing one of the stalls when she noticed Durante's approach.

"Oh great, another one," she thinks to herself, annoyed at having her peace disturbed once again by some bumbling tourist looking to pick up on her. She adjusts the bag on her shoulder and turns to leave, quickening her pace slightly.

Durante reaches her just as she begins to walk away. His voice low and awestruck he asks in Japanese, "Excuse me… I couldn't help but notice you from across the way."

Washu turns to face him, an unimpressed look on her face. "Oh? And what exactly did you notice?"

Durante, still not quite sure this is real struggles to answer. "I couldn't help but notice your hair-it's so vibrant, and your-"

Washu raises her hand, cutting him off with an annoyed tone, "Let me guess: my hair reminds you of fire, and my eyes look like gemstones? Or maybe you'll say how I stand out in a crowd?"

She begins walking away, dismissing him entirely. Durante half runs to catch up with her, walking beside her.

"No, it's not that. I've seen you all my life. In my dreams."

Washu stops abruptly, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "Okay, that's a new one. Look, I'm flattered, but I'm not interested."

Durante sighs, obvious to the fact she's brushing him off. "I didn't mean to bother you. I just…" He trails off as his peripheral vision catches notice of someone walking up to him from the side.

An older man with thinning white hair and glasses, dressed in a simple but neat outfit, stops abruptly in front of Durante as he turns to face him. His eyes are narrow before getting wide, his cane clatters against the pavement as he stares at Durante in recognition. His family, a younger couple with two children, looks back at him with concern.

The old man, speaking in French and voice trembling, "It's you… it's really you. You haven't aged a day…"

Durante looks at him, seeing the old man's face tighten with recognition. He responds in the man's language. "Come, again?"

The old man walks closer, ignoring his family's protests. "It's you…it's really you. I could never forget your face. You saved me. You were there at Auschwitz."

The young woman with him gently places her hand on the old man's shoulder. "Papa, please. That's impossible. He's far too young to have been there."

The old man ignores her, with tears streaming down his face he responds. "You pulled me out of that place… that hell…when I was a boy. You carried me out."

He moves closer, clasping Durante's hands with shaking fingers. "I'll never forget your face. Thank you…thank you…"

A look of recognition flashes across Durante's face, the memory returning to him. Finding a boy in striped pajamas, buried under other bodies. He was skin and bones, barely alive as Durante carried him in his arms out of the death camp to seek immediate medical attention. He eventually found medics that transported him to a field hospital. Durante never found out what happened to him. Leaning closer so only the old man can hear, he responds with a smile.

"It was me. And I am so very glad to see you made it after all these years of wondering. But you mustn't say anything for my sake. Let them think you're mistaken."

The old man looks at him confused for a moment, but only nods as he still sobs. He openly kisses Durante on both cheeks before embracing him tightly which Durante returns in kind.

"God bless you…" the man says burying his face into Durante's shirt.

Meanwhile Washu is still standing a few feet away from them, listening to and watching the scene unfold with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. The name "Auschwitz" rings a bell, and she realizes the implications. She silently observes as the old man's family pulls him away gently, apologizing profusely to Durante who only nods and waves goodbye.

Washu approaches Durante, her curiosity piqued. "Auschwitz? That was a concentration camp, wasn't it?"

Durante brushing himself off, trying to regain his composure and replies, "Yes, it was."

Washu narrowed her eyes, studying the man. He's ruggedly handsome with his face framed by a thick if somewhat ill-kept beard, its deep brown hue streaked subtly with lighter tones from the sun. His brown hair, slightly tousled and windswept, fell to just above his ears. His overall features were defined but weathered with a stoic look. His eyes caught her attention- deep brown and intense like polished mahogany that carried the weight of long experience. They reminded Washu of her own.

"You look like you're in your thirties," she said. "Care to explain how a man who looks like you was supposedly at Auschwitz decades ago?"

Durante knows he should walk away at this point but after a long pause, he decides to take a chance with this woman from his dreams.

"I don't usually share my experiences with strangers," he says. "But… let's just say I've been around longer than most."

Washu is intrigued, her tone softening. "Well, you certainly know how to make an impression. What's your name?"

Durante looks at her, studying her demeanor before extending a hand. "Durante. And you are?"

Washu hesitates briefly before shaking his hand in return. "Washu."

Durante smiles at her faintly. "Washu… Would you like to grab a drink with me? I was just about to grab one and I have a feeling we have a lot to talk about."

Washu pauses for a moment and after a moment's thought, smirks. "Why not? Lead the way, Durante."

The two make their way toward a nearby bar, the sounds of the market fading behind them. Washu glances at Durante out of the corner of her eye, her mind racing with questions. For his part, Durante walks beside her, his mind equally preoccupied—though for entirely different reasons. She's very beautiful.

The bar is cozy, dimly lit, and filled with the low hum of conversations. The occasional clink of glasses and laughter punctuates the relaxed atmosphere. The wooden interior and soft lighting give it a warm, inviting vibe, with small tables scattered throughout. Durante picks a quiet corner table, away from the more boisterous patrons near the bar.

As they reach the table, Durante pulls a chair out for Washu with a subtle nod, waiting for her to sit before taking his own seat. Washu observes the mannered gesture with a slight smirk, her curiosity about this rugged, mysterious man growing. When was the last time a man even did that for her, she wonders.

Durante settles into his chair across from her, gesturing toward the bartender. "Order whatever you like. It's on me."

Washu leans back slightly, studying him with a sly smile. "Very generous."

The bartender approaches the table, his face warm and welcoming. "What can I get you folks?"

Washu glances at the bartender. "Gin and tonic, please."

Durante says without hesitation. "The usual. Glass of whiskey. Neat."

The bartender nods and heads off, leaving them momentarily in silence. Washu leans forward slightly, her fingers laced together as she studies Durante with a keen, calculating look.

Washu breaks the silence, her voice casual yet probing. "So, Durante… What's your story?"

Durante chuckles softly, swirling an imaginary drink in his hand. "You don't waste time, do you?"

Washu responds with a grin. "Not when there's a puzzle to solve. And you, my friend, are one hell of a puzzle."

Durante leans back in his chair, his tone measured. "What makes you so sure I'm a puzzle worth solving?"

Washu tilts her head, her green eyes glinting. "Auschwitz. The old man. You knew exactly what he was talking about. I saw the look on your face as you recalled what he was saying from all those years ago and yet, here you are, looking like you just walked off the cover of a men's magazine. You don't exactly scream 'old World War II veteran.'"

Durante sighs, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "It's a long story. One that doesn't make much sense unless you've got an open mind."

Washu leans forward, her voice softening slightly. "Try me."

The bartender returns with their drinks, setting them down with a polite nod. Washu picks up her glass, and clinks hers with Durante's. She takes a sip of the crisp, refreshing drink as her eyes never leave Durante.

Durante lifts his glass, staring into the amber liquid for a moment before taking a sip. "I've been around longer than I care to admit. Seen a lot, done a lot. More than most people could stomach."

Washu raises an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "How long are we talking here? Decades? Centuries?"

Durante smirks faintly, intrigued by how casual her question is but noticing that she doesn't seem shocked or surprised. Not even any doubt. Why is that? "Let's just say… Rome wasn't built in a day."

Washu chokes slightly on her drink, her eyes widening. "You're joking."

Durante his voice calm, steadily delivers some sarcastic humor. "If I was joking, I would have followed it with a drumroll and a laugh track."

Washu laughs at his remark. "Oh, a comedian now, are we?"

"Only on my off days," says Durante before taking another sip of his drink.

Washu leans back, her mind racing. She's seen a lot in her time, but an ancient Roman? That's a rarity, even for her. She takes another sip of her drink, studying him carefully.

As their conversation continues, a man from the bar stumbles over. He's in his late forties, unkempt and clearly several drinks in to the point he's drunk. His steps are uneven as he approaches their table, his eyes fixated on Washu.

The man slurring his words, grinning sloppily at her. "Hey there, beautiful. Why don't you ditch this guy and come have a drink with me?"

Washu rolls her eyes, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Tempting, but I'll pass."

The drunk man leans closer, ignoring her tone. "Aw, come on babe. Don't be like that. Just one drink."

Before Washu can respond, Durante stands slowly, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back. His towering frame and icy glare make the drunken man falter.

Durante says in a low voice, cold and deadly. "You heard the lady. Back off."

The drunk man stares at Durante for a moment, his bravado quickly fading under the weight of Durante's murderous stare. He stumbles back, muttering under his breath as he leaves. He retreats back to the bar, and Durante sits down again, his expression softening as he looks at Washu.

Washu raises her glass to Durante with a smirk. "Chivalry isn't dead after all."

Durante lifts his whiskey, his tone dry. "Not yet."

The two continue their drinks, the interruption forgotten. Washu's curiosity about Durante only deepens, while Durante finds himself unusually at ease in her presence. As evening begins to progress, their conversation becomes less guarded, the first threads of trust beginning to form. The warm glow of the bar lights flicker gently as Durante sets his empty whiskey glass down, leaning slightly forward. He places his arms on the table, his intense gaze locking onto Washu's vibrant green eyes.

Durante smirks at her. "You've spent the last fifteen minutes trying to crack me open like a nut. Seems only fair I get a turn."

Washu raises an eyebrow, swirling her drink with an amused grin. "Oh? And what would you like to know?"

Durante his tone casual, but probing. "Where are you from?"

Washu takes a sip, her voice lilting playfully. "Oh, here and there. I've lived in a lot of places."

Durante's eyes narrow slightly, detecting the dodge. "That so? You don't strike me as a tourist."

Washu grins wider. "I get that a lot. Let's just say I'm not the type to settle down in one place for too long."

Durante leans back in his chair, his tone calculated. "Interesting. And how long have you been wandering? You don't exactly seem like some young thing fresh out of college, ready to see the world."

Washu laughs lightly, her hand brushing her hair back. "Flattery will get you everywhere. But if you must know… long enough to see a lot, short enough to keep things interesting."

Durante chuckles, shaking his head. "You're good at dodging questions. It's like pulling teeth."

Washu feigns mock offense, placing a hand on her chest. "Pulling teeth? You wound me, Durante. I prefer to think of it as maintaining an air of mystery."

Durante grins, his voice teasing. "Mystery, huh? Sounds like code for avoiding a straight answer."

Washu's smile falters slightly, her tone softening. "Maybe I like to keep people guessing."

Washu takes another sip of her drink, her mind wandering. "How do I even begin to explain myself to someone like him? 'Hi, I'm a 20,000-year-old genius alien scientist from outer space.' That would go over really well."

She steals a glance at Durante, who's watching her with a mix of curiosity and amusement. But he's no ordinary human. That much is clear.

For the first time in a long while, Washu finds herself genuinely intrigued. "There's something about him… Something old. Something familiar. Like we're both cut from the same cloth, even if I can't quite put my finger on it."

Durante shifts his tone, more serious now. "You seem… different. Like you don't quite fit in here. Am I wrong?"

Washu chooses her words carefully, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Different isn't always a bad thing, you know. And maybe you're not so ordinary yourself, Durante."

Durante leans forward, his voice dropping slightly. "Fair. But I get the feeling you know more than you're letting on. About… all this." He gestures vaguely toward the market beyond the bar.

Washu smirks before deflecting his assumption. "You're just upset that I've managed to figure you out more than you've figured me out."

Durante laughs softly. "Alright, you win. For now."

The two continue their banter, the tension between them shifting into something lighter, more playful. Washu's deflections only deepen Durante's intrigue, while Washu finds herself genuinely enjoying his company—an unusual occurrence for someone so accustomed to solitude. As the bar begins to empty out, Washu glances at her watch, noting the late hour. Durante notices but doesn't say anything, silently observing her. For the first time in centuries, he feels an odd sense of comfort in a woman's presence—a sense that, perhaps, they're not so different after all.

The hum of conversation in the bar has faded as patrons trickle out, leaving only a few scattered groups. The bartender begins cleaning glasses, and the low music fills the space with a mellow vibe. Washu glances at her watch again, catching Durante's attention this time.

Durante leans forward slightly, his tone casual. "Got somewhere to be?"

Washu glances up at him, offering a small smile. "Not exactly. Just noticing how late it's getting."

Durante smirks faintly. "Guess I've been keeping you longer than I should."

Washu smiles with a teasing glint in her eyes. "You're not boring company, I'll give you that."

Durante takes the last sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down. "Well, if you don't have to rush off… maybe we could continue this conversation somewhere quieter."

Washu raises an eyebrow and leans back slightly in her chair, amused. "Oh? And where exactly did you have in mind?"

Durante, his voice calm but slightly daring. "My place. Just a short walk from here. I've got a bottle of something better than watered down bar whiskey."

Washu pretends to mull it over, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Bold move, Durante. Inviting me back to your place so soon?"

Durante chuckles softly. "Just figured the conversation might be more interesting without further interruptions."

Washu holds his gaze for a moment before smirking, deciding to be spontaneous. "Alright, why not? Lead the way, Mr. Mystery."

The two stand, Durante placing cash on the table to cover their drinks. He pulls the door open for Washu as they step out into the cool night air. The streets are quieter now, the hustle and bustle of the day giving way to the peaceful hum of the evening.

As they walk side by side, Washu glances at Durante, taken by his calm demeanor. "What's his game?" she wonders. For his part, Durante steals a few glances at Washu, still trying to piece together the enigma in front of him.

The soft glow of streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement. The cool night air carries a faint breeze, making Washu's loose ponytail sway gently as they walk. The sounds of the bar fade into the background, leaving just the soft tapping of their footsteps on the pavement. Durante, hands casually in his pockets, walks closer to Washu. He's not sure why, but he feels drawn to her in a way he can't explain—like she's the missing piece to a puzzle he didn't know he was solving.

Washu, ever perceptive, notices the subtle shift in his body language and smirks slightly to herself. "So, he's making a move?"

Without a word, she slips her arm around his, leaning in just enough to close the distance. Durante stiffens slightly at the unexpected gesture but quickly relaxes, glancing at her with a small, amused smile.

Washu's mind is racing. "What am I doing?" she thinks to herself. "I barely know this man, and yet… here I am, holding his arm like we've known each other for years. I never do this. I'm Washu, the greatest scientific genius in the universe. I don't make impulsive decisions… except, apparently, for tonight."

She sneaks a glance at Durante, who seems lost in his own thoughts.

Durante's mind is likewise in motion. "What the hell am I doing?" He wonders. "I don't bring people into my life—not like this. Too dangerous, too messy. And yet, here I am, walking arm-in-arm with a woman I just met. What is it about her?"

Washu glances up at him again, her voice light. "So, is this your usual approach? A drink, a walk, then straight to your place?"

Durante chuckles. "Hardly. I'm not exactly the social type."

Washu grins. "Could've fooled me. You're doing a pretty good job, tonight."

Durante shrugs. "Must be the good company."

Washu laughs softly, her grip on his arm tightening just a fraction. For a brief moment, they walk in comfortable silence, the tension between them shifting into something warmer, more natural.

They reach a small, unassuming house tucked away on a quiet street. Durante unlocks the door, stepping aside to let Washu enter first. She takes a quick look around, noting the sparse yet functional décor—a man's space, no doubt about it. A simple couch, a small dining table, and a bookshelf filled with old, well-worn books. There's a sense of order to the space, but also something deeper—history.

Washu teases Durante. "Cozy. Let me guess, you're not much of a decorator?"

Durante smirks as he shuts the door behind them. "It works for me. Didn't think I'd have company tonight. Or ever."

Washu turns to face him, her green eyes gleaming as she laces her hands behind her back. "Well, here I am. So, what's this amazing drink you promised me?"

Durante heads over to the small kitchen, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from a cupboard before getting ice from the fridge. "Patience, Washu. Good things take time."

He pours the drinks, handing one to her before taking a seat on the couch. Washu sits beside him, her posture relaxed yet her mind filled with questions. For the first time in a long while, she feels genuinely intrigued by someone—and maybe, just maybe, a little out of her depth. Washu takes a small sip of the whiskey, savoring the warmth and smooth flavor as she leans back into the couch. Her eyes wander the room, scanning the sparse but organized space. The faint scent of old books mingles with the whiskey, catching her attention again as she notices the small bookshelf near the corner of the room.

Washu gestures toward the room with the glass in her hand. "So, how long have you had this place?"

Durante sips his whiskey, his tone casual. "Not long. I move around a lot. This is just… convenient for now."

Washu narrows her eyes slightly. "A man without roots. Interesting. What is it you do that keeps you on the move?"

Durante smirks faintly. "A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Nothing worth writing home about."

Washu rolls her eyes, her voice teasing. "Ah, the strong, silent type. Very mysterious." She leans forward slightly, her gaze settling on the bookshelf. "But not too mysterious to have a collection of books. No TV, no radio… Just these."

He follows her gaze, shrugging slightly. "Never saw much use for TV or radio. Books have a way of keeping you grounded."

Washu stands up, walking over to the bookshelf. "A man of letters, huh? I wouldn't have pegged you for an avid reader."

Durante watches her with mild amusement. "Why not? You think I'm all muscle and no brains?"

Washu grins as she picks a worn book from the shelf, flipping through its pages. "I wouldn't say that. But this…" She gestures to the shelf. "This is unexpected."

Washu inhales deeply, the scent of old paper and ink triggering a faint sense of nostalgia. "Books… Physical books. It's been ages since I've really handled anything like this. My world is data streams and holograms. This? This feels… real." She glances over her shoulder at Durante, who's watching her with a very curious expression. "What are you hiding?"

Washu places the book back on the shelf, quickly scanning the collection before turning to face him. "So, what do you read? Let me guess—war history, strategy, maybe a bit of philosophy?"

Durante chuckles softly "Something like that. A man's got to keep his mind sharp."

Washu tilts her head, studying him. "And what's your favorite? Don't tell me you're one of those types who reads everything but has no favorites."

Durante smirks, his tone thoughtful. "Hard to pick just one. But I've always been drawn to stories about resilience and…persistence. People pushed to the edge but still finding a way to survive."

Washu replies, "A bit on the nose, don't you think?"

Durante responds, his smirk deepening. "Maybe. But there's truth in it."

Washu walks back to the couch, taking her seat again. She studies him quietly for a moment, her mind spinning with questions she doesn't quite know how to ask.

Washu leans back, mindfully sipping her whiskey. "You're a hard man to figure out, Durante."

Durante raises his glass to her slightly. "I could say the same about you."

Washu grins mischievously. "Oh, I'm an open book. You just need to know how to read the pages."

He locks his eyes onto hers, speaking in a low voice. "And I get the feeling your book's written in a language most people can't understand."

Washu chuckles softly, shaking her head. "He's sharper than I expected. And far more guarded."

For a moment, they sit in comfortable silence, the air between them charged with a mix of curiosity and mutual intrigue. Washu takes another sip of her whiskey, her eyes glinting with amusement as she leans slightly toward Durante, resting her chin on her hand. The playful grin tugging at her lips suggests she's thoroughly enjoying the banter.

She tilts her head, her voice light and teasing "So, if I were a book… How would you read me?"

Durante ponders her question for a moment before smirking faintly. "Carefully. And probably with a lot of caution."

Washu pretends to be offended, placing a hand over her breast. "Caution? What kind of impression have I given you?"

He leans back, his voice calm but laced with humor. "The kind that makes me think you're full of surprises. And maybe a few traps along the way."

She laughs softly, her tone playful. "Traps? Now I'm really curious. What kind of traps do you think I'd have?"

Durante's smirk widens, his tone turning slightly daring. "The kind that make you think you're in control until it's too late."

Washu sips her drink, her eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. "Hmm. Clever answer. But that doesn't tell me how you'd actually read me. Start to finish? Skip around? Dog-ear the pages?"

Durante with his voice softening and gaze steady. "I'd start at the beginning and take my time. Some stories aren't meant to be rushed."

Washu pauses, her playful expression fading slightly as his words hang in the air. She wasn't expecting such a thoughtful reply, and for a brief moment, she finds herself at a loss for words.

"Take his time," huh? That's not the kind of answer I was expecting." Washu studies him carefully, her mind racing. "He's not just some grizzled soldier or a ruggedly handsome face with a tragic backstory. There's depth here. Depth and… something else."

She catches herself before her thoughts can wander too far, quickly masking her momentary lapse with another playful grin.

Washu recovers, her tone teasing again. "Alright, Mr. Mystery. Your turn. If you were a book, what kind would you be?"

Durante responds without hesitation. "The kind people write off as fiction."

Washu laughs, raising her glass to him. "Touché."

The air between them grows a little warmer, the banter shifting into something more personal, more intimate. Washu finds herself drawn in more and more by this man who seems to wear his history like armor. Durante, for his part, feels a rare sense of ease in her company—a feeling he's not sure he trusts but is willing to explore. Washu leans back into the couch, her green eyes studying Durante as she swirls the last remnants of her drink in her glass. A faint smile plays on her lips, but there's a flicker of genuine curiosity behind it.

Washu with her voice soft, almost contemplative says, "You know… you feel familiar to me. Like I've already known you somehow."

Durante is surprised by her remark, leaning forward to set his empty glass on the table. His smirk returns, and there's a faint glint of amusement in his eyes as he turns to face her.

Durante says with a trace of sarcasm. "Maybe I'm the man of your dreams."

Washu snorts, covering her mouth as she laughs aloud.

Washu's grin is wide as she recovers, her voice still playful. "You're interesting, I'll give you that. But I don't think you're quite my type."

Durante mocking an arrow to the heart, places a hand over his chest. "Ouch. That hurts."

Washu scoffs. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. Besides, if you were in my dreams, I'd know."

He leans in towards her, his tone teasing. "Maybe you forgot. Or maybe I just have a knack for leaving an impression."

Washu chuckles again but falls silent for a moment, her playful expression softening as she looks at him.

"Familiar… That's the only word I can think of to describe it. But why? I've met countless people over the years—millennia, even—and yet…" She studies him, her mind filing through possibilities. "It's almost like… like we've crossed paths before. But that's impossible. Isn't it?" Her eyes flicker to his hands, his posture, the way he holds himself with a calm confidence that feels both foreign and oddly comforting. "Who are you really, Durante?"

Durante breaks the silence, his voice calm. "You seem lost in thought. Care to share what's going on in that brilliant little mind of yours?"

Washu snaps out of it, her smirk returning. "Oh, just trying to figure out what makes you tick. You're not an easy one to read, you know."

He responds, his tone turning serious for a moment. "Neither are you."

Washu tilts her head slightly, her curiosity deepening.

Washu with a soft voice. "Maybe we're not so different, you and I."

Durante responds, his voice light again. "Careful, Washu. You're starting to sound like one of those tragic love stories."

Washu pulls away, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. "Oh, please. Don't flatter yourself."

The two share a laugh, the tension between them giving way to something more genuine. Washu feels a rare sense of ease in his company, while Durante, despite his usual guarded nature, finds himself drawn to her in a way he can't quite explain. The room feels warmer, quieter, as the distance between them closes. Durante shifts slightly, leaning forward, his intense gaze locked onto Washu's. His usually guarded demeanor softens, replaced by a quiet, unspoken curiosity.

Durante his voice low, and a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "So, Washu… How's this story going to end?"

Washu blinks, momentarily caught off guard. Her playful smirk falters for a fraction of a second before she recovers, her emerald eyes glinting with intrigue.

Washu tilts her head, her voice light but teasing. "That depends. Are you writing it, or am I?"

Durante leans in slightly closer, his voice steady. "Maybe it's a collaboration."

Washu chuckles softly, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her glass.

She responds, her voice laced with a playful tone. "Bold. But I don't usually let anyone edit my stories."

Durante's smirk deepens, his voice a touch more daring. "Neither do I. Maybe it's time for a change, for both of us."

Washu realizes her walls are coming down. "What is it about him? This feels reckless, impulsive… and yet, I can't seem to stop myself. Am I really about to let this happen?"

Likewise, Durante's are starting to crumble as well. "I've spent centuries keeping people at arm's length, never letting anyone in. But with her… it feels different. She's different."

Washu leans back slightly, her gaze still steady but playful. "You're not exactly subtle, you know."

Durante gazes back at her, his smirk unwavering. "Didn't think subtlety was your style."

Washu feigns being insulted. "Oh? And what exactly do you know about my style?"

Durante leaning in closer, his tone softer. "Enough to know I don't want this story to end just yet."

Washu's breath catches for just a moment, but she quickly masks it with another playful smile. Her voice is soft, almost a whisper. "Careful, Durante. You might just end up in over your head."

He responds without hesitation. "Maybe that's exactly what I've been looking for. Or avoiding."

The tension between them thickens, the air charged with the weight of unspoken possibilities. Washu studies him for a long moment, her curiosity giving way to something deeper, something she can't quite name. And for the first time in a long while, she decides to stop overthinking. Durante's eyes lock onto Washu's, searching for something he knows is there—a reflection of his own longing, his own solitude.

For a moment, neither of them says a word, their shared silence louder than any conversation. Durante leans in slightly, his hand resting on the back of the couch near Washu. His movements are deliberate but hesitant, like a man stepping into unfamiliar territory after a lifetime of isolation. Washu watches him carefully, her usually sharp and playful gaze softening as she feels the weight of his intentions.

Durante's mind is on fire. "What am I doing? This isn't me. I don't let people in. But with her… it feels different. And maybe… maybe I'm tired of being alone."

Washu's mine is going at the same pace. "Why does this feel… right? I've been alone for so long, by choice, by necessity. But now… He's nothing like anyone I've ever met. And maybe that's exactly what I need."

Durante his voice low, almost a whisper as he sees through her and himself. "We've both been running through life alone for a long time, haven't we?"

Washu's lips part slightly, her breath catching as she processes his words. She doesn't respond, but the faint flicker of vulnerability in her eyes speaks volumes. Durante takes a chance, his voice steady but soft.

"Tell me if I'm wrong," he says.

Washu doesn't pull away. Her eyes never leaving his.

Her voice barely audible, "You're not."

Durante hesitates for just a moment, searching her face for any sign of fear or hesitation. When he finds none, he closes the distance, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that's tentative at first, but quickly deepens as the walls they've both built around themselves completely break away. Washu's hand instinctively reaches up, resting lightly on Durante's chest as she leans into the kiss. Her mind lights up, every logical part of her screaming that this is reckless, impulsive, dangerous and foolish—but she silences it. For once, she lets herself feel.

Durante's hand moves from the back of the couch to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss lingers. There's no urgency, no desperation—just the quiet, mutual understanding of two souls who've been alone for far too long finally finding a moment of solace in each other.

When they finally pull apart, their foreheads rest together for a moment, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. Washu's green eyes flutter open, locking onto Durante's brown ones. The vulnerability in her gaze is unguarded but fleeting, like a shooting star that disappears almost as quickly as it appears.

"I…" she begins, her voice softer than he's ever heard it. But then, as if a switch flips, a flicker of her usual confidence returns. She straightens slightly, her hand slipping from his chest. "That was… well, that was something, wasn't it?" Her tone is light, almost teasing, but there's a subtle tremor beneath it—a hint of uncertainty she can't quite hide.

Durante studies her carefully, sensing the delicate balance of emotions playing out behind her sharp wit. He's learned enough about her by now to recognize that she's on the verge of retreating, the walls she'd let down during the kiss already starting to rebuild themselves.

"Washu…" he says gently, his hand lingering on her waist. "You don't have to…"

"I know," she cuts him off, her voice firmer now. She pulls back, just enough to create a little distance between them. Her arms fold across her chest, a defensive posture that contrasts sharply with the openness of their shared moment just seconds ago. "But I think I do. You have no idea how complicated this could get."

Durante doesn't push. Instead, he nods, his expression a mixture of understanding and quiet determination. "Okay," he says simply, his voice steady. "But if you ever decide it's not too complicated… I'm here."

Washu's lips curve into a faint smile—not her usual mischievous smirk, but something softer, more genuine. "You're a stubborn one, Durante."

She gets up and walks over to the lightweight jacket she'd casually slung over a chair earlier. Her summer attire glimmers in the dim light, but the jacket's presence seems purposeful now, as though she'd anticipated needing it. "I should go. Don't wait up," she calls over her shoulder, her tone light but her pace brisk. Before he can respond, she's gone, leaving him alone in the quiet room.

Durante exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. The warmth of her touch still lingers on his chest, and despite her retreat, he can't help but feel that something between them has shifted. For better or worse, a line has been crossed, and there's no going back to the way things were before.

As the silence stretches, Durante's thoughts turn to the fleeting vulnerability he'd seen in Washu's eyes. He'd caught a glimpse of something real, something she clearly wasn't used to showing. And he couldn't let it end like this.

He grabs his jacket, hesitating for only a moment before heading for the door. "Washu," he mutters under his breath, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "You're not the only stubborn one here."

The brisk night air bites at his face as he steps outside. His eyes scan the street, looking for any sign of her. He spots her a short distance away, walking with a determined stride, her lightweight jacket catching the faint glow of the streetlights. He quickens his pace, closing the gap between them.

"Washu," he calls out, his voice steady but carrying just enough urgency to make her pause.

She turns, her expression carefully composed, though her eyes betray a flicker of surprise. "Durante," she says, crossing her arms. "I thought I told you not to wait up."

"I wasn't waiting up," he replies, stepping closer. "I was catching up."

She quirks an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. "And what exactly do you think you're catching up to?"

"You," he says simply. "I meant what I said. If it's not too complicated for you, I'm here. And I'm not afraid to prove it."

For a moment, Washu says nothing, her gaze searching his face for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, she sighs softly, a mixture of exasperation and something far more tender. "You really don't know when to quit, do you?"

"Nope," he replies with a small grin. "And I don't plan on starting now."

Washu shakes her head, the faintest chuckle escaping her lips. "Fine," she says, turning back toward the path. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Can I walk you home?" he asks, trying to underplay the eagerness in his tone.

"I don't really do the whole walking home thing," she retorts. "But you can walk me to the bus station."

Durante falls into step beside her, his heart lighter despite the uncertainty ahead. Whatever came next, he was ready to face it—stubbornness and all.

As they walk, Washu adjusts her jacket again, her hand brushing his arm in what feels like an unintentional gesture. Durante feels a brief sting, so faint he dismisses it as nothing more than a stray fabric thread. She continues walking as if nothing happened, her expression unreadable, though her mind is racing.

The tracker was necessary. Washu's thoughts swirled as she kept her pace steady. He's reckless, stubborn, and intriguing—exactly the kind of person who attracts chaos. I don't know everything about him, but I know enough to recognize trouble when I see it.

She rationalized her actions quickly, convincing herself it wasn't personal. If he's going to be near me, it's better to be prepared. It's not like I'm spying. It's… an insurance policy. Just in case.

Durante glances at her briefly, oblivious to her inner turmoil. "You okay?" he asks, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Fine," she replies breezily, not breaking stride. "Why?"

"Nothing," he mutters, shaking off the odd sensation as they near the station.

The hum of the city grows louder as they approach. Durante slows his pace, not quite ready to let the moment end. "You sure you don't want a ride? I could call you a taxi."

Washu shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I'll be fine, Durante. I'm a big girl. But thanks for the offer."

He stops just outside the station, watching as she steps toward the entrance. "Washu," he calls after her, his voice softer now. She turns, her expression curious. "I meant what I said earlier. Don't forget it."

She studies him for a long moment before nodding. "I won't," she says, her voice quieter than usual. Then, with a final wave, she disappears into the station.

Washu enters the station and heads to the nearest restroom, her steps quick and deliberate. She ensures the stalls are empty before picking one and locking the door. With a flick of her wrist, a small holographic panel appears, scanning the room to confirm she's alone. She adjusts her bracelet, activating a teleportation sequence. The air around her shimmers, and in a flash, she vanishes, returning to her lab.

In her lab, Washu materializes amid a glow of brilliant lights. The room buzzes with activity from various monitors and holographic displays. She brushes her hair back and moves quickly to one of the main consoles. With a swipe, she pulls up a live data stream connected to the nanomachine tracker.

The screen fills with readings—heart rate, location, and biometric scans—giving her a detailed picture of Durante's condition. She leans back slightly, tapping her chin. Stubborn, reckless, and apparently healthy. At least there's that.

Her mind drifts back to the evening. The kiss had been unexpected, as had her own willingness to let down her guard, even for a moment. Washu sighed, muttering to herself, "What is it about him?" She dismissed the thought quickly, redirecting her focus back to the screen. "Data first, questions later."

Meanwhile, Durante eventually return to his place, the door clicking shut behind him. The room is dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls. Out of nowhere, a sharp reminder hits his mind. He tosses his jacket onto a chair and moves to a locked drawer in the corner of the room. Opening it, he retrieves a rugged satellite phone.

As he powers it on, the screen flickers to life. He glances at the time on his watch and mutters, "Damn, I'm late." Scrolling through a list of secure contact codes, he selects one labeled "Cassius." The phone begins to dial, the connection taking a few moments to establish. Durante runs a hand through his hair, preparing himself for whatever conversation was about to unfold.

Durante settles into a worn chair near a desk, the satellite phone cradled in his hand. The line connects, and a familiar voice crackles through the static.

"Cassius here. You're late," the voice says, sharp but not without a trace of dry humor.

"Yeah, I know. Got held up," Durante replies, his tone measured. He leans back, glancing at the ceiling. "What's the update?"

Cassius doesn't answer immediately. Instead, there's a pause, and then his tone shifts, carrying a mix of curiosity and suspicion. "Held up? That's not like you. What happened?"

Durante hesitates, debating how much to reveal. Finally, he sighs. "Met someone. Got... distracted."

There's a short, sharp laugh on the other end of the line. "You? Distracted by someone? That's a first. Must've been quite the woman to make you miss our call. You gonna tell me about her, or do I have to drag it out of you?"

"Her name's Washu," Durante says, his voice steady but tinged with something Cassius recognizes as guarded interest.

The line goes silent. For several long seconds, there's nothing but the faint crackle of static.

"Cassius?" Durante prompts, his brows furrowing.

"Describe her," Cassius says abruptly, his voice tight.

Durante's tone shifts, more cautious now. "Why? What's going on?"

"Just do it," Cassius snaps. "Height, build, hair color, demeanor—everything."

Durante exhales slowly, his suspicion growing. "Alright. She's short, maybe five-four. Slim, but not frail. Long red hair tied back in a ponytail, green eyes. Confident, sharp, probably the smartest person I've ever met. Summer clothes, but still looked like she was in control of the whole room."

Another pause, this one heavier. When Cassius speaks again, his voice is lower, almost reverent. "You're sure about the name? And the description?"

"Positive," Durante replies, now on edge. "You know her, don't you?"

"That's not important," Cassius says quickly, his tone sharp. "What's important is that you tell me everything. Everything you did. Every word exchanged. I need the details, Durante."

Durante bristles slightly but doesn't argue. "Alright. We met at a bar. Had some drinks. Ended up back at my place." He pauses, knowing the next part will get a reaction. "She kissed me."

The line crackles with static, but the stunned silence on the other end is palpable.

"You're telling me," Cassius says slowly, disbelief heavy in his voice, "that you picked up this woman at a bar, had drinks at your place, and then she kissed you?"

Durante shrugs, though Cassius can't see it. "Pretty much. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal," Cassius snaps, "is that she's one of the most dangerous and unpredictable people in existence. And she doesn't do casual. If she kissed you, it wasn't just a whim. Did you tell her anything? About the mission? About yourself?"

"No," Durante replies firmly. "She doesn't know anything about me or what I do."

"You're sure?" Cassius presses, his voice still laced with tension.

"Positive," Durante says. "She's sharp, but I didn't let anything slip. We talked about nothing important."

Cassius exhales, though the tension in his voice doesn't entirely fade. "Alright. Just be careful. If she's taken an interest in you, it's for a reason. And that reason could be bad news for both of us."

In her lab, Washu's holographic monitor displays the audio feed from the nanomachine tracker. Her green eyes narrow as she leans closer, her mind racing. How does this man know who I am? she wonders. Earth shouldn't have anyone who knows me, besides Tenchi of course.

Washu sits back in her chair, her lips curling into a thoughtful smile. Dangerous? Well, that's not entirely inaccurate. Her curiosity now fully piqued. But who are you, Cassius? And how do you know me?

With a flick of her fingers, she brings up another console and begins attempting to trace the satellite call. The screen fills with cascading data streams, coordinates rapidly shifting as the signal rapidly bounces from one point to another. Washu's lips press into a thin line. Smart. Someone doesn't want to be found.

Back on the call, Cassius's tone shifts. "Let's get back to the mission. The target might relocate within seventy-two hours. We need to intercept before that happens. Are you ready?"

Durante nods, his focus returning. "I'll be ready. Just give me the time and place."

"Good," Cassius says curtly. "And Durante? Keep your personal distractions out of this. This mission is too important."

"You don't have to worry about that," said Durante. "I'm a professional after all."

Cassius gave Durante time and location of the mission briefing before hanging up. He leaned back in his chair, the satellite phone still in his hand. His thoughts swirled with a mixture of disbelief and unease. Durante's report was troubling enough—the mission to intercept Nero was already on a razor's edge—but this development with Washu Hakubi was an entirely different level of complication. If anything it went completely beyond Nero.

He set the phone down, rubbed his temple, and let out a slow breath. For years, they'd tried to monitor her—along with the rest of the Masaki household. Every attempt had ended in failure. Signals disrupted, operatives lost, entire systems compromised. Washu Hakubi wasn't just a name; she was a warning. A ghost who could vanish as easily as she appeared, leaving behind only chaos and unanswered questions.

Cassius straightened; his decision made. This wasn't something he could handle alone. He reached for the secure console embedded in his desk and entered an authorization code. The screen flickered to life, displaying the emblem of Majestic Twelve—the covert council responsible for managing Earth's most classified operations involving extraterrestrials.

"Code Black," Cassius said, his voice calm but firm. "Immediate assembly of Majestic Twelve. Highest alert status."

The console acknowledged his command, the signal sent to the other eleven members scattered across the globe. Within moments, holographic projections began appearing around him, the figures shrouded in shadow to protect their identities. Despite the concealment, the tension in the room was palpable.

"Cassius," one of them began, their voice distorted to mask its origin. "What warrants a Code Black?"

"Washu Hakubi," Cassius replied bluntly. The name alone caused a ripple of murmurs among the council.

"Explain," another demanded, their tone sharp.

"Durante encountered her," Cassius said, leaning forward. "By sheer coincidence, he met her at a bar, brought her back to his place, and they…" He hesitated, the words almost ridiculous to say aloud. "She kissed him."

The murmurs grew louder, disbelief and concern mingling in the voices of the council members. Finally, one spoke above the rest. "You're telling us that Washu Hakubi—a being we've been unable to track or contain for years—is suddenly fraternizing with one of our operatives? This is beyond improbable."

"And yet, it happened," Cassius said, his voice steady. "Which raises questions we can't ignore. Why him? Why now? Is this a coincidence, or is she playing a game we don't understand?"

"What about the mission?" another member asked. "Nero's movements are critical. Can we trust Durante to stay focused?"

"He claims she doesn't know anything," Cassius said, though doubt lingered in his tone. "But if she's taken an interest in him, we can't rule out the possibility that she's already ahead of us."

"And the Masaki household?" a voice interjected. "Do you think this ties back to the rest of them?"

"It has to," Cassius said grimly. "We've known for years that household harbors individuals far beyond Earth's understanding. Washu is the linchpin. If she's stepping outside that bubble, it's because she has a reason. We need to figure out what it is before it's too late."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Finally, one of the council members spoke, their voice decisive. "Full surveillance on Durante. Find out everything about his interactions with Hakubi. Increase monitoring on the Masaki household. And as for the Nero operation, proceed with caution. We can't afford any missteps."

Cassius nodded, the orders aligning with his own thoughts. "Agreed. I'll coordinate with our field teams. But make no mistake—this development with Hakubi could change everything. We need to be ready for whatever comes next."

The council members gave their acknowledgments before their holograms blinked out one by one, leaving Cassius alone in the dimly lit room. He stared at the darkened console, his mind racing. Whatever Washu's game was, he had a sinking feeling they were all already playing it.

Durante alone in the dimly lit room. He stared at the device in his hand, Cassius's words echoing in his mind. The mission, Nero, the urgency—all of it seemed to take a backseat to the weight of the question gnawing at him now.

Who is Washu, really?

Her name had clearly struck a nerve with Cassius. The way his tone shifted, the insistence on every detail, the disbelief that Durante could have met her so casually—none of it made sense. Cassius rarely let anything shake him, but tonight he'd sounded rattled, almost afraid.

Durante leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. Washu's image came to mind, vivid and unsettling in its clarity. The fiery red hair catching the sunlight in the market, her piercing green eyes glinting with intellect and curiosity, her presence commanding attention even in a bustling crowd. He'd felt an inexplicable pull towards her, something far stronger than the fleeting impressions of women he usually ignored. The moment she turned to face him; it was like nothing else in the world existed.

And then there was the kiss. It wasn't just the kiss itself, but the way it had felt—like a moment of connection he hadn't expected, and maybe hadn't deserved. Washu had been guarded, sure, but there had been flashes of vulnerability beneath her sharp mind. For a moment, she'd let him see something real.

Cassius's reaction suggested there was far more to her than he could have imagined. The way he'd described her… dangerous, unpredictable. That didn't align with the woman Durante had met. She had been brilliant, intense, and maybe a little eccentric, but not dangerous. At least, not in the way Cassius seemed to mean.

His mind wandered back to their conversation at the bar. Washu's playful deflections and sly smiles had seemed innocent enough, but in hindsight, there had been something calculating behind her eyes. She'd been asking questions as much as answering them, probing him just as much as he'd been trying to figure her out.

"What am I missing?" he muttered to himself, setting the phone down on the desk. His gaze drifted to the window, the city lights glowing faintly in the distance. Washu had been an enigma from the start, and now it felt like the questions about her were piling up faster than he could answer them.

Was she really just curious about him, or was there something more? And why had her name caused such a visceral reaction from Cassius? What was her connection to whatever world Cassius seemed to know but never explained?

His mind flicked to the mission at hand—Nero. That was supposed to be his focus. Cassius had been clear: the target's movements were critical, and the window for interception was closing. But Cassius's reaction to Washu lingered, casting a shadow over the clarity he needed for the mission.

Why now? Durante wondered. Why would someone like Washu even be here? Cassius's words replayed in his mind: If she's taken an interest in you, it's for a reason.

He thought back to her piercing gaze, her clever deflections during their conversation. Had she been playing him from the start? Or was there something genuine in her curiosity? The possibility that she might be both intrigued and calculating made her even more dangerous.

Durante's jaw tightened. He hated being in the dark, hated the feeling of being two steps behind. Whatever Washu's game was, he needed to figure it out. Not just because of Cassius's warnings, but because of the way she'd looked at him, like she saw something in him he wasn't sure he even saw in himself.

But for now, there was nothing more he could do. Cassius had been clear—the mission came first. Whatever Nero's next move was, he needed to be ready to act. Yet, even as he tried to focus on the task ahead, Washu's name lingered in his mind, an unanswered question that refused to let go.

Far from Durante's apartment, Washu reclined in her lab, her eyes fixed on the data feed streaming from the nanomachine tracker. Heart rate steady, location unchanged—but his mind was working. She could tell.

"What are you thinking about, Durante?" she murmured to herself, her lips curling into a faint smile. Her curiosity about him was growing. It wasn't just his reaction to her, but something deeper. He'd handled her deflections with surprising ease, yet there had been a flicker of something—vulnerability, maybe—that told her there was more to him than the tough exterior.

Her fingers danced across the console, pulling up additional overlays and notes. Cassius had reacted to her name with remarkable familiarity, and that… that was interesting. Outside of certain groups Earth shouldn't have anyone who knew her like that, let alone someone connected to a man like Durante.

Washu leaned back, folding her arms as the holographic screens shimmered around her. "Curious," she muttered. "Who are you, Durante? And who is this Cassius to know me?"

The questions buzzed in her mind, but one thing was clear—this was a game worth playing.