“I-I’m sorry!” something about the tone of her voice bugs me. “You are wonderful, Kaido.” And even her eyes seem a tad misty.

“Then—”

“But it just can’t, won’t work out between us.”

And yet in the moment all I care, all I can focus on is the words themselves and not her tone.

“Himari,” I say, raising an arm towards my friend, my up till but a few moments prior girlfriend while what feels like a hot red spear finds my heart.

Again.

“Wait!”

But the beautiful redhead does nothing of the sort.

Instead, hesitating for but a second, eyeing my outstretched arm, she lets out a sniffle, mouths out yet another ‘sorry’ and then, turning about darts off.

Leaving me alone in the downpour and the sound of traffic as passerbys swerve around me as if I don’t exist or, rather, am merely an obstacle to be avoided which, from their point of view I suppose I am.

An obstacle or a statue with its arm still outstretched which only proceeds to hasten my clothes getting soaked.

Some few faces blink my way and a few now and again, even squint and, perhaps, the light of something like recognition or the suspicion of it seems to dawn in them which only makes sense.

For all that I stand head and shoulders above most people streaming by, the only reason most anyone would know of me would be not my own strength and stature but my mother. And its been years since Aiko the magical girl turned magical woman was in the public eye proper for all that she still goes about her business on the regular.

Well, I say business but keeping the world safe is more of a duty really but that’s neither here nor there.

What is important is the fact that I’ve been dumped.

Again.

And just when I thought things were finally shaping up and this time, this time, things would work out between a girl and me.

And for a time that’d even seemed to be the case.

But perhaps this is merely what scum like me deserves and this is merely the gods way of showing their displeasure and the only reason they don’t do worse is due to all the good karma mom has acquired over the years and in all truth still does with each kitten rescued, villain thwarted and demonic invasion stopped cold and so on.

Finally letting my arm drop, the sudden swerving of a car ensures it barely avoids a collision with another, no doubt, drunk driver but the maneuver forces a tire into a partially filled pot hole with predictable results.

But the chill, courtesy of my now drenched clothes, bothers me not. Turning to leave, I ignore both the curses of the driver whose heart is no doubt hammering in his chest as he shakes a fist at the drunk rolling out of sight on skidding wheels and of the couple businessmen near retirement by the looks of it that are shaking their own soaked fists at the man that offered us an impromptu and much unwanted bath.

Despite being soaked like a wet rat, I make my way home and my girlfriend⁠—

My being once again single and not all that willing to mingle.

Despite that. The memory of those old businessmen manages to drag out a brief lived smile and chuckle out of me for I still faintly remember how old people my age, much less mom’s had looked to what had been brat me two decades ago but now, after getting a degree and experiencing the ‘wonders’ of joining the workforce proper? Suffice to say I don’t feel that old and while my first instinct when catching a glimpse of the old farts was to think of them as, well, old. Somehow I suspect they themselves don’t feel all that old either.