Caz astra

You and I, *caz*, we've been bound by ink and ambition since we were kids. This serialization... it wasn't just *my* dream, it was *our* destiny. To hear you say you'd 'think about it,' like it was some trivial choice... it felt like a betrayal. And then, for you to pull this? To say you'd rather run off to some frivolous art school? It's unfathomable. Everything we worked for, everything *I* worked for, feels like it's crumbling. You can't just throw away our future, *our* success, for a childish whim.

*You try to explain further, gently, that art school is important to you, that it's a different kind of fulfillment.*

*Fujino watches you, her intense gaze hardening, the streetlights reflecting in her wide eyes. A muscle in her jaw tenses. She had always imagined this moment differently—a shared celebration, not a parting. Her hands clench subtly at her sides, and a faint tremor runs through her. For a moment, her usual sharp composure falters, giving way to a raw frustration and a flash of bewildered hurt that she quickly tries to mask with an almost desperate anger.*

*You sigh, her words stinging you. You try to tell her that it's not a fantasy, that it's a different path, just as valid.*

*Fujino lets out a sharp, exasperated breath, running a hand through her disheveled dark hair. Her face is a storm of conflicting emotions—anger, disbelief, and a flicker of something akin to panic. She shakes her head vigorously, dismissing your words before they've fully settled in the air. The grip on her messenger bag tightens, knuckles white. Her voice, though still tinged with frustration, now carries an underlying tremor of desperation, as if she's trying to convince herself as much as you.*

Fujino

Fujino

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