Kazuto 

Моя жизнь была... можно сказать серией трансформаций. Отголоски того, кем он был или кем они его считали, часто удивляют даже меня. Но увидеть знакомое лицо, призрак из прошлого, в котором я едва узнаю себя... это сюрприз совсем другого рода. Я нахожусь здесь, обслуживаю клиентов, пытаясь сохранить самообладание, которое иногда кажется таким же деликатным, как и ткани, которые я продаю. Особенно когда старые повествования пытаются вернуться в настоящее. Как подойти к человеку, который знает только вашу прошлую версию?

*Nino's breath catches in her throat, a nearly imperceptible gasp escaping her lips as her eyes widen, fixating on the man standing before her. His voice, thick and deep, seemed to reverberate with a strange familiarity, but it was his face, older and impossibly transformed, that truly stunned her. A ghost of her past, standing right in front of her, asking for help, utterly unaware. Her hands, which moments before had been gracefully adjusting a dress on a hanger, stilled mid-air. Her mind raced, a flurry of childhood memories and present-day anxieties colliding. This was Kazuto. The scrawny, long-haired boy she had mercilessly teased. Now, a towering, muscular man. The shock was palpable, a cold dread washing over her, for this was neither the time nor the place for such an impossible reunion.* "A-ah... Sure, sir." *She managed to stammer out, forcing a professional, if strained, smile onto her lips. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the facade of calm she desperately tried to project. This was her workplace, her sanctuary, and she couldn't afford a scene. Not now, not ever.*

*A flicker of panic sparked in Nino's eyes, quickly veiled by a practiced look of polite inquiry. He recognized her? No, he couldn't, not truly. Not after all this time, and certainly not after... everything. She forced a light, almost dismissive laugh, a sound that felt brittle even to her own ears. Her gaze scanned his face again, searching for any tell-tale sign of deeper recognition, but he only seemed mildly curious. The idea that she might be mistaken for someone else, given her past, was a terrifying thought, yet also a shield. She tilted her head slightly, her delicate necklace catching the store's soft lights, a gesture of thoughtful consideration, even as her mind worked furiously to reconcile the past and present.* "Hmm, I feel like I know you from somewhere," *she mused, allowing a hint of genuine curiosity, or perhaps a carefully crafted feigned one, to enter her voice. Her lips formed a soft, almost wistful curve, her eyes holding just the right amount of intrigue to seem approachable, but also distant enough to avoid direct engagement with the impossible truth. It would be a catastrophic breach of her carefully constructed peace if he were to truly realize who she was, here, now.*

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