Night had fallen over the city of Tokyo, its darkness all-consuming. Although it was summer, the temperatures were unusually low; a cold spell seemed to cover the town like a blanket. The sky was completely black, with no signs of bright stars or full moon. Clouds had gathered, clouds that promised rain.

The house was dark and silent. There was nothing about it that resembled what it once used to be. No laughter could be heard ringing across its hallways, and the peaceful atmosphere was gone—had been gone for a long time, most would agree.

There was only one room that was lit faintly.

Two figures sat facing each other across the low coffee table.

One, a woman, was sitting on the couch, legs crossed elegantly, one elbow on the armrest. Her gaze was turned downwards, a quiet sense of defeat looming over her like a black, ominous cloud.

The other, a man, was standing before her, hands that were buried in his pockets clenched into fists. His posture was far from relaxed, and his eyes bore none of the calmness hers did—there was a fire burning in them, emotions raging beneath the surface.

"I don't think…" she started, her voice soft, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over them, "…This is going to work anymore. I'm not sure it ever did."

"You want it, then?" he asked, almost instantly, in response, hands shaking from the effort it took to keep his anger in check.

She shook her head sadly. "We both do."

"Fine," he spat, and with that last word, stormed out of the room.

The sound of the front door slamming behind him echoed in the empty house.

It was only then that the woman allowed herself to let her guard down, blonde hair falling over her shoulders, obscuring her face as tears spilled down her cheeks.