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Chapter Text

A car was supposed to be safe. It was a vehicle with many complex parts. It weighed tons, with a protective metal coating around the exterior. Or at least, that was what famous ballet dancer Nakamura Kazuha thought. As she drove to the opera house she was supposed to perform at—when she was about to change lanes to exit—a car going in the wrong direction barreled straight toward her. Before she could even react, she heard a loud crash. Her windshield shattered into a million pieces, and she was jerked forward, hitting her head on the steering wheel. The impact was enough for her to start seeing stars, and not the ones in the sky. These were not nearly as pretty. She saw red at the corner of her eye; surely that wasn’t her own? 

“Oh my God, someone call 119!” she heard faintly. 

“Did that bitch just run off? Hey! Come back here!” she heard another one. 

Were they talking about the person who hit her? She didn’t know. The last thing she heard before passing out was herself, muttering an apology to the opera singer she was supposed to perform with. 

Kazuha sat in the audience at a show for one of the most famous opera singers in the world, Huh Yunjin. From the moment Yunjin started singing, Kazuha was captivated. She absorbed everything—all the pure emotion Yunjin expressed while on stage, the movement of her backup dancers, and the props in the background. It was all so beautiful, hearing everything from love and happiness to heartbreak and sadness when Yunjin performed. 

She had a thought. Maybe one day, she could be on that stage performing alongside her. An unimportant girl from Osaka, Japan, getting to perform with a world-famous opera singer—imagine that. She shook her head with a soft smile. Her parents told her to dream big, but that one might have been too big. She was just fine being a spectator, especially since ballet was mainly a means to an end for her. She didn’t have as intense emotions towards it as Yunjin did for her opera. 

It was kind of sad; even her instructor had mentioned before that she performed with a lack of emotion and didn’t put her feelings into it enough. He was right. Although she had won many competitions, it was all because she was so technical about it. Yunjin‌ let her emotions shine through in every performance. 

“Beautiful,” Kazuha muttered to herself. 

It was the first time she truly appreciated it. 

“Nakamura Kazuha, you have been chosen,” Kazuha’s ballet instructor, Nakamoto Yuta, told her. 

“Chosen? For what?” Kazuha asked. 

“Your dream is coming true.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Does the name Huh Yunjin ring a bell?” 

“Are you serious?!” 

“I wouldn’t joke about something as big as this. Read it for yourself.” Yuta handed her a letter. 

Kazuha read it to herself. ‘To whom it may concern: From the team behind HUH YUNJIN, we’re formally recruiting Nakamura Kazuha to join us as a fellow dancer on our team. If you accept the offer, we’ll fly you out to our headquarters in Seoul, South Korea. Also, know that you will be given proper living accommodations and compensation for your job with the team. Awaiting your response, from all of us at HUH YUNJIN.’ She put a hand over her mouth. “No way! No way! No way! They want me?!” 

“Yep, you.” 

“What should I do?” 

“What else? Call them and accept the offer, of course!” 

“Is this really happening? Pinch me.” 

Yuta pinched her, and she gasped in pain. She was definitely awake. 

“This is really happening,” Yuta said. 

“I guess I should call them,” Kazuha said. 

“Good luck!” 

“Thank you!” 

Yuta nodded and walked away as Kazuha grabbed her phone and dialed the number at the bottom of the letter. It rang out twice before she heard a voice on the other line. 

“Hello, this is HUH YUNJIN’S office. Manager Kim Minjeong speaking,” she said. 

“Hello, my name is Nakamura Kazuha, and I just received a letter from your team about joining as a dancer? I want to accept the offer. What should I do?” she asked. 

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Nakamura. I’m glad you received our letter and want to join us! When are you available to fly out? So we know when to set everything up for you.” 

“It’s really that simple?” 

“Yes, leave everything to us. All you have to do is come and showcase your skills.” 

“Thank you! I’ll talk with my instructor, but I should be ready to go by the weekend.” 

“Got it! Thanks for letting us know. Please call us back when you have the exact details. Have an amazing day!” 

“You too!” 

Kazuha hung up, letting out a sigh of relief. “I’m really doing this.” 

Yuta walked back into the room. “Yeah, you are! Pack your bags and get ready for your new life! Congratulations!” 

“Thank you for everything, Mr. Nakamoto.” 

“Thank you! I’m so glad I could be your instructor. Now go out there and prove to everyone that they were right in choosing you.” 

“I won’t let you down!” 

The stage was always intimidating, no matter how many times Kazuha’s feet graced it. There was still that inkling of fear that would sometimes emerge and grip her, making her think her legs were encased in vines, that the audience was like trees with carved-out faces, made to laugh at her. 

But when Yunjin glanced at her and gave an encouraging smile, everything seemed normal again. There were no vines or trees with carved-out faces; it was just her and her many supporters. So, she danced as if her life depended on it, with emotion her past self would have been incredibly proud of, as now she had someone who made her feel that way about dance. It was no longer a means to an end for her. It was fun, invigorating, and something she had a new passion for. 

She looked at the audience and remembered the time she had once sat there, having the fleeting thought of one day being like she was now. Never in a million years would she have thought that all her choices would have landed her here, performing with the Huh Yunjin. Yet here she was. 

With more performances came more recognition. That was as much a curse as it was a blessing. Kazuha was popular—famous even—as a ballet dancer. She had to come to terms with the fact that she was going to get noticed. People were bound to see her, even if she wore a hoodie, mask, and sunglasses. 

A crowd started forming around her. They started confessing to her and asking her for photos and autographs. As much as she liked the attention, this was overwhelming. Suddenly becoming a very important somebody from a total nobody was quite the shift. 

“You’re making her uncomfortable. Please back up,” she heard Yunjin say over all the other noise. 

Everyone moved. That was one powerful voice; everyone knew it. Yunjin grabbed her hand and dragged her through the crowd. She hated how much she relished ‌the warmth of it. She hated how her heart skipped a beat when Yunjin intertwined their fingers as they ran. Bile rose in her throat. She wasn’t supposed to feel this. This was the equivalent of an employee falling for their boss. It was wrong. They were just co-workers, nothing more, nothing less. Yunjin was just helping her navigate the crowd. Their intertwined hands meant nothing, and she was delusional in thinking otherwise. 

“Are you okay?” Yunjin asked when they got far enough away from the crowd. 

Kazuha just nodded. No words in the world could have expressed her feelings at that moment. 

The opera house held their secrets. From the almost kisses at the end of some performances as the curtains closed to everyone’s cheering and applause, to that mistake of a drunken hookup in the dressing room. They knew it would never amount to anything significant anyway. That was the position they were in. A relationship between them was just not feasible. Yet, what happened that night was something they could never forget. 

It was a party celebrating the opera house grossing over a billion won. Fried chicken, pizza, soju, and a bottle of champagne. They ate, drank, and enjoyed each other’s company until it was only the two of them left in that dressing room, amidst nothing but a couple of half-full bottles of soju, empty pizza and fried chicken boxes, and an almost empty bottle of champagne that no one cared to put the cork back on. 

Yunjin made the first move. “Can I kiss you?” she slurred, the alcohol giving her courage. 

Kazuha nodded slightly. Yunjin leaned in and kissed her softly. Her lips tasted of everything they had prior in seeming succession; first, it was chili from the spicy chicken, then cheese and tomato from the pizza, followed by the flavor of alcohol. The alcohol pushed them over the edge. Kazuha cupped Yunjin’s cheeks and pulled her in for a more fervent kiss. It was messy and desperate but full of passion. They parted after a couple of minutes, both breathing heavily. 

“Should we be doing this?” Kazuha asked. 

“Probably not,” Yunjin said, leaning in again. “But that’s a problem for future us to deal with.” 

Kazuha closed the distance between them again. She agreed. This was a future problem. Right now, she wanted nothing more than Yunjin’s body on hers. She tugged at the hem of Yunjin’s shirt, silently begging for her to take it off. 

“Are you sure?” Yunjin asked. 

“Yes,” Kazuha breathed. 

Yunjin pulled her shirt over her head and unclasped her bra, tossing both of them on the floor. Kazuha admired Yunjin’s bare upper half, tracing a hand up her abs. Yunjin gasped at the touch. She was surprised at how much she enjoyed Kazuha touching her like this. She wanted more. She pulled Kazuha’s shirt off and pressed herself even closer to her, also undoing Kazuha’s bra. It dropped to the floor. What followed was their hands and mouths traversing each other’s upper bodies, enjoying the touch and contact. 

Some minutes later, Kazuha got more daring and hooked a finger in the waistband of Yunjin’s jeans. “Is this going too far?” 

Yunjin shook her head. “I want this.” She unzipped her jeans, pulling them down. “All of this.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“More than sure.” Yunjin slid her underwear down her legs as well. “Let me feel you too.” 

“Please.” 

In one fluid motion, they both lay bare. In another, fingers reached where they wanted them. In a final, they unraveled. 

“I love you,” Kazuha confessed breathlessly. 

Yunjin’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected a confession. But she knew she couldn’t say it back, lest that made everything that much more real. 

“I’m sorry,” Yunjin apologized. 

Kazuha jolted awake. She looked around, noticing she was in a hospital room. An uncomfortable bed with mechanical buttons to adjust it, an IV tube attached to her arm, and a few gifts on the bedside table. She remembered now: a car going the wrong way, the shattered glass, voices, blurry red, and her apology. 

A nurse walked into the room. He looked to be a few years older than her and a bit taller. The name tag on his scrubs read Choi Yeonjun. 

“Oh, Ms. Nakamura, you’re awake,” he said. “Let me go get the doctor.” 

A few moments later, Yeonjun came back with a doctor in tow. He wore a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck. 

“Good morning, Ms. Nakamura. I’m Doctor Park Jimin. I see you’ve already met Nurse Choi. I really only have bad news for you.” He paused, and Kazuha braced for it. “Do you want to hear it?” 

If it were really a choice, Kazuha would’ve said no, but she nodded. “Yeah, tell me.” 

Jimin frowned. “Okay. We could luckily take out most of the glass that was lodged in parts of your body because of the crash you suffered and clean up the blood,” he took a breath, and Kazuha prepared herself for what he was going to say, “But, a small piece got lodged too deep in your leg, and we couldn’t remove it. To prevent it from potentially causing an infection and becoming a bigger problem in the future, we recommend…” 

“Amputation,” Kazuha finished. 

Jimin nodded. “But that choice is up to you. We know how much you love performing.”

Kazuha considered it for a moment. If she really thought about it, there was only one thing keeping her from quitting ballet altogether, or rather, one person. She looked at the gifts on the table next to her and wondered if one was from the person who kept her going all this time; for the five years she had spent here in South Korea. 

A beat later, someone stormed into the room. “I came as soon as I heard you were awake.” It was the person, her person. “Are you okay?” 

Kazuha’s eyes watered. “I think I have to quit.” She rubbed them. “I can’t perform anymore.” Her voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” 

Yunjin turned to Jimin. “What is she talking about? What happened?” 

“We might have to amputate,” Jimin said. 

“No way.” Yunjin covered her mouth in shock and disbelief. “Please tell me he’s not serious,” she said to Kazuha. 

Kazuha wished she could. She knew how heartbreaking it was. Shaking her head was never as difficult as it was at this moment. “Sometimes life doesn’t always go the way we want or expect it to. This just so happens to be one of those times.” 

 Yunjin went to Kazuha’s side and cupped her hands between her palms. “I can’t lose you.” 

“I have to do this. I can’t risk something happening in the future because I didn’t act now.” 

“But…what about everything that you’ll lose?” 

‘The only thing I’m afraid of losing is you.’ Kazuha thought. “We always have to lose something to gain something, don’t we? We’ve been here long enough to know that, haven’t we?” she asked.

“That doesn’t mean it’s easy to.” 

“Well, of course not. The most worthwhile decisions are always the hardest to make.” 

Yunjin kissed Kazuha’s forehead. “If you must, then I can’t stop you. I’m going to miss you.” 

“I’m going to miss you, too.” 

Yunjin waved goodbye with a sad smile and walked out of the room. 

“So, we’re doing the surgery, then?” Jimin asked.  

Kazuha nodded. Her life was far more important than dancing. 

My swan, how are you doing? If you’re reading this, I assume you’re okay, but I can never be sure. I’m surprised that even after all this time, I’m still your emergency contact. The hospital called me and told me you got into a car crash. I came as soon as I got it. You looked so bad. So much glass and blood. I almost thought…But I knew that wasn’t the case. I really hope you can come back. Nothing’s the same without you here. Yours truly, Yunjin. 

Kazuha read the letter again and again and again until the words were engraved in her head. It was the note Yunjin left her when she first got to the hospital after the car crash. She also left her with a stuffed snake as a memento to remember her by. 

As she looked at it, she chuckled bitterly. “I hoped for that too.” She looked at the nub she had for a leg. “Guess hope only gets you so far.” She sighed. 

Looking around the hospital room, she noticed how the wheelchair and crutches next to her bed seemed to stare at her, taunt her, beg her to move, to make something of her new life. 

Right. What good is staying in bed and moping going to do? There are many people who have done great things with their lives with only one leg. Doctor Park referred me to a prosthetist. I should go. I should try to do something. Even if I can’t go back to ballet, I can still live my life as normally as I can. I was discharged a couple of days ago. So, I’m free to leave, but that’s the hard part, isn’t it? Who would help me? 

She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. Her finger hovered over one for a few seconds but scrolled past it. She couldn’t bear facing her again after her decision. It was too much, too soon. 

She called an old friend instead. She wasn’t even sure they were actually in the country at the moment, but she had to try. Going on the bus or walking anywhere like this was embarrassing. She wasn’t ready for the judgment she would face just yet. 

Pressing the call button, she readied herself. It rang out a few times before she heard a voice on the other side. 

“Kazuha? Hey! Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a long time,” they said. 

“Mina, can I ask a favor of you?” Kazuha asked. 

“Of course! What is it?” 

“Promise me you won’t freak out when I tell you.” 

“I promise.” 

“Okay. I was involved in a car crash and had to get my leg amputated. I’m at the hospital. I got discharged a few days ago, but I’m scared of being seen like this. Is there any chance you can pick me up?”

“Which hospital?” 

“Asan Medical Center in Seoul.” 

“I’ll be there soon.” 

“Thank you so much.” Kazuha hung up and let out a sigh of relief. 

Should I use the crutches or the wheelchair?

They both made her look pathetic, but the crutches made her look less so, so she pushed herself up and grabbed them, stabilizing herself. Walking on them was a challenge, but at least she felt like she had agency using them. 

She hobbled as she went to grab the bag with her things. Slinging it on her back, she walked out of the room. While walking, she received a call. She stopped and maneuvered to grab her phone, answering it. 

“Hello?” she asked. 

“Hi, I’m here,” Mina said. 

“Yeah, I’m walking out right now. I’m on crutches, so it might take a while, so wait for me.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll wait.” 

Kazuha thanked Mina once more and hung up. As she hobbled along, she thought of her life before this point, how five years ago, she was living a mundane life in Japan, and now she was without a leg. When she got out of the hospital, she saw a black Hyundai Elantra with its passenger window down. She noticed Mina smiling and waving from the driver’s seat. Smiling softly at her, she tried to open the car door; her crutches made it somewhat tricky. Mina noticed and got out to help her. 

“Thank you,” Kazuha said as she settled into the passenger seat, putting her crutches and bag in front of her. 

“No problem,” Mina said, returning to the driver’s seat. “So, where am I taking you?” 

“Here.” Kazuha pointed to a place on her phone. “It’s the prosthetist my doctor referred me to.”  

“Got it. I’m really sorry this happened to you.” Mina started driving. 

“It’s okay. It’s a shame, but it happened; it’s in the past now. I can’t change that. All I can do is focus on the present, and that means living my life, even if it means without a proper leg. So, what’s going on with you? What are you up to? I haven’t heard from you since your group’s disbandment, and that was, what? Two years ago?” 

“You could have always reached out. I wouldn’t have minded. I just didn’t think or expect your next call would be over something like this, but I was really glad you called me anyway. I was worried something had happened to you when I didn’t see you in the last couple of performances I went to. So, I’m happy you trust me enough with this.” Mina took a breath. “But yeah, it’s been two years. I was thinking of moving back to Japan for a while, but ultimately I stayed here in Seoul. I’ve made so many cherished memories and met so many important people in my life here, including my fiancée, whom I live with now.” She smiled. “We’re trying to plan our wedding.” 

“That’s great news! I’m happy for you! Do I get an invite when it happens?” 

Mina chuckled. “Of course!” She gestured towards Kazuha’s missing limb. “If you’re able to attend, that is.” 

Kazuha smiled. She appreciated how well Mina handled the whole thing. It made her feel a little more normal. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

“I’m holding you to that.” Mina stopped the car. “We’re here. Do you need any help getting out?” 

Kazuha pushed the car door open, moving her crutches. She grabbed her bag, got out slowly, and put her weight on the crutches. “I can do it. Thank you for offering, though.” 

“I see that. Good luck. Talk to you soon?” 

“Hopefully. Thank you again.” Kazuha shut the door and walked into the prosthetist’s office. 

Mina waved goodbye—although Kazuha couldn’t see it—and drove off. 

Kazuha handed her referral to the receptionist. “Good afternoon. My doctor told me this was the best place for prosthetics in the country.” 

“So, our reputation precedes us, huh?” The receptionist read the referral. “Seems your doctor also put you with the best prosthetist as well. Whoever they are knows their people.” 

“I’m glad.” 

“Take a seat, and she’ll call you soon.” 

“Thank you.” 

Kazuha sat down and grabbed headphones from her bag. Sliding them over her ears, she put on a playlist on shuffle and listened while drumming her fingers on her thigh. 

After about ten songs, she saw a shorter woman in a white coat walk into the waiting room. She slid her headphones off her head, put them back in her bag, and grabbed her crutches as the prosthetist approached. She got up and walked toward her. 

“Hello, Ms. Nakamura?” the prosthetist asked. “I’m Dr. Bae Joohyun. I’ll be helping you with everything regarding your leg and finding and getting used to the right prosthetic.”

“Yes. Call me Kazuha. Thank you so much,” she said. 

“Just follow me.” 

And Kazuha did. 

Joohyun called her a quick learner, being able to acclimate to her prosthetic and stop using her crutches to walk across the room in only a couple of months. She still had a long way to go before she could think of walking long distances without her crutches, but it was progress. 

“You’re doing great. You just need to keep moving,” Joohyun said. 

Kazuha stood up with her prosthetic attached and attempted to move, making it to the bench at the end of the hallway before needing to sit. The phantom feeling of her missing leg made her feel ‌more capable than she was at walking. Looking at the metal she was wearing was discouraging. Every time she spared even the slightest glance at the prosthetic, memories of what she had sacrificed resurfaced. 

“You gave it up? Wasn’t that your dream?” her mom asked when she called to tell her she had quit ballet. 

“Yeah, it was. My biggest dream was to dance in Huh Yunjin’s opera. From the moment I first saw it, it spoke to me. Back then, I didn’t even have a goal in doing ballet. I just did it because that’s what I had. But everything changed when I saw her perform on stage. Something clicked for me. 

“And when I got that recruitment letter, my dream finally came true. Those were the best five years of my life. I wouldn’t change it for the world. I don’t regret it one bit, oka-san. I had to do what I had to do. You know the saying, ‘Quit while you’re ahead?’ Well, if I hadn’t chosen to amputate, then inevitably, the problem would’ve gotten much worse. So, I did it because as much as I loved dancing, my life is much more important,” she told her. 

“I understand. You know I’ll always love you, right?” 

“I love you, too.” 

“Hey, are you okay?” Joohyun asked, sitting down next to Kazuha. 

Kazuha shook her head, both to answer Joohyun and to rid the thought from her head. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. Recovery doesn’t happen overnight. It takes years for most people to function fully again like this. Don’t get yourself down.” 

Kazuha ran her hands down her face and gave an exasperated sigh. “But I’m not most people! I was an internationally famous ballet dancer!” She rubbed her eyes. “Now, I’m learning how to walk again.” 

Joohyun put a hand on Kazuha’s thigh. “And you’re doing an amazing job at it. Just remember that we’re all here to support you, okay?” 

Kazuha nodded with a soft smile. “Yes.” 

“Now, ready to try again?” 

“I think so.” 

It had been almost seven years since Kazuha had moved to Seoul. The city looked much the same as it did all those years ago, but there was something about the air that had shifted, something about the culture. She sensed it after she quit ballet. South Korea was moving in a new direction, and she was there to witness it. 

She looked at how her prosthetic moved with her as she walked, now more used to it. It no longer opened old wounds like it used to. Smiling, she let the autumn breeze carry her along to wherever. 

Today, it led her to a quaint little place called Le Café. She saw a sign that read: “Now Hiring: Part-Time and Full-Time Baristas, Cashiers, and Pâtissières” in the window and gave it some thought before walking in. 

“Hello! Welcome in,” a worker greeted. 

“Hello,” Kazuha greeted back as she looked around. “I like the decorations.” 

“Thank you! We worked very hard on them.” 

Kazuha nodded in acknowledgment. She saw how much care went into the café. There was something very human about it—unlike the corporate look of places like Starbucks. She enjoyed Starbucks sometimes; the variety of different drink combinations she could make there was pretty unmatched, but the place she stood in now was like a warm hug. The smell of brewing coffee she found quite addicting, the smell of sugar and warm vanilla from pastries on display, and the couches and chairs all added to the hominess. 

“It seems very cozy,” Kazuha observed. 

“We try,” the worker said. 

Kazuha walked up to the counter. “Can I get an iced Americano?” 

“Sure. What’s a good name?” 

“Kazuha.” 

“Great. And is that all for today?” 

“Yeah, that’s it. Can I also get an application? Or is there a place I can look online?” 

The worker chuckled. “Glad to know there are still people who prefer paper.” She reached under the counter and handed Kazuha an application. “Here you go.” 

“Thank you…” Kazuha read the worker’s name tag, “Eunchae.” 

Eunchae smiled. “No problem!” She looked at a screen. “So, one iced Americano? That’ll be 12,000 won.” 

Kazuha pulled out her card and put it in the reader. 12,000 won for a coffee seemed expensive, but compared to other places, it was actually quite reasonable considering the current economy. She put her card back in her wallet and sat down at a table with her application and a pen from the café’s tiny bucket that also had a mini pride flag. She appreciated the small token of support. 

As she filled out the application, she enjoyed how mundane the task was compared to how her life had been previously. When she got to the part that asked about previous job experience, she hesitated in answering because why would a person who worked for an opera company as a ballet dancer for five years suddenly want to work at a café? Anyone who looked at that would ask about it. What was she going to say to that? “I lost my leg in a car accident and had to quit?” Maybe that was exactly it. 

She answered the section truthfully and moved on, putting in information about education, what position she preferred, and some other personal information. She finished it just as a worker called her name. Getting up and handing her application back to Eunchae—who said they would call soon—she grabbed her coffee and walked out with a goodbye to the staff and other patrons. 

A few days ago, Kazuha received a call from the café telling her they would like to interview her today. So, she wore her best dress and the prosthetic that looked the most realistic to an actual leg. Walking in anything but sneakers was still quite difficult for her, but today she was going to try her best for the interview: walking in flats. 

While heading to the café, confidence was her best friend. Nothing was going to get in her way. She was going to nail this interview and finally have a steady source of income after not working for a year. 

She looked down at her watch for a moment, 11:57. Just a few minutes early. Grabbing the door handle, she gently pulled it open and walked inside with her head held up high. 

An unfamiliar face greeted her this time. “Welcome in!” 

“Thank you. I’m Kazuha. I’m here for an interview at noon,” she said. 

The worker nodded. “I see. Let me go get the manager.” They walked away for a few moments to talk to the manager before returning. “She’ll be with you shortly. Take a seat anywhere you’d like.” 

“Alright.” 

Kazuha went to sit down. She played with the hem of her dress in anticipation and a bit of worry. 

When she saw the manager approach, she took a couple of deep breaths and stood up, greeting her. “Hello. My name is Kazuha, nice to meet you.” She shook her hand. 

“Nice to meet you. My name is Sakura.” She sat down across from Kazuha, who also sat back down. “So, tell me a bit about yourself.” 

“Um, I’m originally from Japan, Osaka, specifically, but immigrated here almost seven years ago at this point. I’m a retired ballet dancer; that’s why I moved here, actually, to be a ballet dancer in Huh Yunjin’s opera production. I’m no longer in that line of work, though. Before I moved, I actually worked in a bookstore for about a year to help my family with finances and to continue affording to do ballet. I’m currently attending classes at Seoul National University through an online program and working towards a degree in economics.” 

Sakura wrote the information, even though she already had most of it. “So, why us? Why do you want to work at Le Café?” 

Kazuha had rehearsed this answer. “I’ve always had a passion for coffee. My dad worked in a café for a long time, and I guess I inherited my love of coffee from him. I also just really love how cozy this place is. It looks like you facilitate an attitude where everyone feels welcome and accepted the moment they walk in. I felt it the first time I came in here; this feels like a place I would be proud to work in. As an amputee, there are rarely places that cater to us, and I feel like this place does, even if indirectly. There’s a lot of accessible seating, and the material the floor is made of is easy to walk on, if that makes sense.” 

Sakura nodded slowly. “I see. What does your availability look like?” 

“I can work every day from 10 to 18.” 

“Okay, great. We’ll give you a callback in a few days if you get the job.” Sakura stood up. “Have a nice day.” She walked back behind the counter. 

Kazuha sighed in relief and left with hope in her heart. 

Working at Le Café was as fun as Kazuha thought it would be. It was November 2029, and a year into working, she thought she actually came to enjoy it even more than she did when she first started. 

“Turn on the news!” her closest friend and co-worker, Eunchae, exclaimed. 

“What is it?” another co-worker of hers, Kim Chaewon, asked. 

“Just turn it on!” 

Chaewon shook her head with a smile and obliged, turning on the news. 

“Breaking news from the Supreme Court! In a landmark 8-6 decision, the court has ruled in favor of the legalization of same-sex unions! This has been an ongoing battle for the LGBTQ community in South Korea, and today, they have won. Congratulations to everyone who campaigned; your efforts were not in vain,” the news reporter announced.

Kazuha covered her mouth in shock. “No way! No way!” She hugged Eunchae. “I need to call my friend!” She dialed Mina’s number. 

Mina answered on the first ring. “Did you hear?!” 

“Yes! I just heard! I’m so happy! Our efforts paid off!” Kazuha exclaimed. 

“My fiancée and I can finally announce an official wedding date!” 

“I can’t wait! You know how long I’ve been looking forward to it.” 

“I will be expecting you. The 8th of June, 2030. Save the date.” 

Kazuha practically squealed. “I will! I’m so excited!” 

Mina chuckled. “I can hear that. Talk to you later?” 

“Yeah, absolutely!” Kazuha hung up. 

Chaewon’s jaw dropped. “I—I don’t know what to say. We really did it? I almost can’t believe it.” 

Eunchae hugged Chaewon. “We did it! We really did it!” 

Sakura, who was also watching, teared up. “From that tiny pride flag in our pen bucket to this. I’m so proud.” 

“So, want to get married?” Chaewon asked jokingly. 

Sakura scoffed. “Hah. In your dreams.” 

“That’s not a ‘no.’” 

“I never said that, did I?” 

“I’ll win you over yet.” 

“You can try.” 

 A customer brought them back to reality. “Hi. I’m happy about the decision too, but can I get my coffee? I have to get to work soon.” 

“Oh! Yeah!” the workers said as they scrambled to get back to work. 

That was life at Le Café. 

Chapter Text

As Kazuha was walking home from work, she was stopped by a man ‌she didn’t know, but who seemed to know her very well. 

“You’re Nakamura Kazuha, right?” He shoved her. “You’re a disgrace! You know how many people would’ve killed to be in the position you were in?! You were at the peak of your career, and you threw it all away! For what? That’s the mystery, huh? To work at a café? That’s so beneath you! You know you’re better than that.” 

Kazuha tried to ignore him and keep moving, but he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back to face him. “What do you think you’re doing? Do you know who I am?” He saw Kazuha was tight-lipped. “Answer me!” 

Kazuha grimaced. “Why do I have to talk to you?! I don’t owe you an explanation! And, no! I don’t know you! So, leave me alone!” 

She tried to push him out of the way, but he pushed back harder. “You really don’t remember me?” He laughed bitterly. “Well, I guess it has been a few years. I was a huge fan of yours. But now? I don’t even know who you are anymore.” 

“Time changes people. I’m not the same person I was seven years ago. I’m not about to give someone who claims to be my fan a lecture on what it means to change. I assume you are smart enough to know that. I have my reasons for quitting, which I have no obligation to tell you.” Kazuha stepped away. “Now, please leave me alone.” 

The man pulled her back again. “No! I’m not accepting that! Tell me why! Tell me why you quit ballet!” he spat. 

Kazuha curled her hand into a fist. “I don’t owe you anything! Get out of my face!” 

“You quit without a word! You owe everyone an explanation! Especially your fans!” 

“What do you want me to do?! Film a video taking off my leg for the world to see? God, I’m so tired of this. My situation is my own! Not anyone else’s! Especially not yours! Back off!” Kazuha sighed, releasing her fist. “Let me ask you something. If you were really my fan, would you be harassing me about something I chose not to reveal? If you were really my fan, would you be yelling at me for something that was out of my control? It wasn’t like I wanted to quit.” 

The man slapped her. “Fuck you! Truly!” He pulled her by the collar of her work shirt and bashed his forehead into hers. “A real dancer would never quit! No matter what!” He pushed her to the ground. “They would keep going right until they keeled over on stage!” He pulled her back up again, forcefully enough that her prosthetic came loose. 

Kazuha groaned in pain. “Damn it! Stop! I’m telling you the truth!” 

Suddenly, someone came and pushed the man away. “Run! I’ve got this!” 

Kazuha tightened her prosthetic and jogged away, silently thanking the person who saved her. 

The next day at work, Kazuha recounted the event to her co-workers when they asked what the bandages on her forehead and around her hands were about. They were equally ‌surprised by what she told them as she was when it happened. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you. It’s 2029, and we still have people who can’t mind their own business,” one of her co-workers, Yu Jimin, said, shaking her head. 

“Did you know the person who saved you?” Chaewon asked. 

“Nope. They just told me to run, so I did,” Kazuha said. 

“I wonder if you’ll ever see them again, so you can thank them properly,” Eunchae said. 

“Yeah, me too.” Kazuha looked at her hands. “Guess I’ll be working in front today,” she chuckled. 

“Definitely. No coffee making for you today,” Sakura said. 

Kazuha nodded and went to the front. She took orders and printed receipts. It was always hectic at the beginning of her shift, but she enjoyed it. Seeing the regulars put a smile on her face, as did appreciation from new patrons. 

A few hours in, however, she saw someone walk in who made her entire world crumble. It was Yunjin in the flesh. Her jaw dropped. She started stuttering over her words. The person working the register next to her, Oh Haewon, elbowed her. 

“Hello! Welcome in,” Haewon greeted as Kazuha regained her composure. 

“Thank you,” Yunjin signed. She looked around the café. “This place looks very nice.”

Haewon understood some sign language. “I’m glad you like it,” she sighed in return. 

“Oh! You know sign language?”

“Some.” 

“Are you okay with me ordering like this?” Yunjin grabbed a notebook from her bag. She wrote something down. Or is this better? She showed it. 

Kazuha knew Japanese sign language, which was helpful as she recognized a lot of similar signs; but she couldn’t decode them all, so she nodded, writing beneath the question, Writing is better, thank you. 

Yunjin gave a thumbs up. No problem. I don’t want to cause trouble. And I can hear. It’s fine if you talk. Mute, not deaf. 

“Oh, okay. What would you like?” Haewon asked after reading the statement. 

Just a hot chocolate is fine. I also saw you guys were hiring. Do you still have paper applications here? 

Kazuha reached under the counter to get an application while Haewon rang up the order. She smiled at the thought of it. When she was still a ballet dancer, during the colder months, Yunjin always made a day for them to get hot chocolate together. She still remembered the feeling of the warm mug in her hands and the taste of chocolate and cream on her lips from the last time they went. She handed Yunjin the application. Their fingers brushed. She realized just how much she missed her touch. 

“Thank you,” Yunjin signed in JSL. 

Kazuha gasped in surprise. “Oh, you’re welcome.” She didn’t expect Yunjin to also know Japanese sign language. 

“You know Japanese sign language?” 

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Yeah. I learned it back when I was still an opera singer.” 

Kazuha observed how Yunjin signed those words like they were the most obvious thing in the world, as if she thought it was easy to know not only a language itself but also its sign language counterpart. 

“Do you know American Sign Language too?” Kazuha signed. 

Yunjin nodded. “Yeah, I do. I know Korean, English, and Japanese, so I learned their sign languages too.” 

“What happened?”

“What happened to you?” Yunjin gestured toward Kazuha’s bandages. 

“Oh, this?” Kazuha touched the bandage on her head. “I just got into a fight yesterday. No big deal.” 

Yunjin scrutinized Kazuha. “No big deal?! Zuha!”

Kazuha remembered when Yunjin first used that nickname for her. It was in a dressing room at the opera house. She was putting on a necklace to go with her ballet outfit, and Yunjin complimented her on how she looked using that nickname. 

But why was she using it now? They weren’t like that anymore. Yet, Kazuha wanted to hold on to the hope that maybe it wasn’t a mistake. 

“Anyway, back to you,” Kazuha signed. 

“You don’t know?” Yunjin signed. 

Kazuha shook her head. After quitting dancing, she blocked any mention of Yunjin on all social media and news sites; seeing her hurt her heart too much. So, she had known nothing of her situation for the past two years. 

“I’m sorry,” Kazuha signed. 

“It’s okay. I just thought you knew. It was everywhere a few months ago,” Yunjin signed. 

Kazuha nodded in understanding. There was a lot they needed to catch up on. 

She attempted to sign something, but just as she was about to, a worker called Yunjin’s name. She smiled as Yunjin went to grab her hot chocolate. 

Yunjin grabbed a pen after walking back. “Nice touch,” she signed, pointing to the mini pride flag in the pen bucket. 

Kazuha sighed and leaned forward on the counter with a hand on her cheek, watching fondly as Yunjin sat at a table near a window and sipped on her hot chocolate while filling out the job application she had handed her. 

“She looks a lot prettier in person,” Eunchae remarked as she cleaned a filter. 

Kazuha stood up straight. “You think so?” 

Eunchae rolled her eyes as she put the filter back on the machine. “I’m your best friend. I’ve been listening to your stories about her for like a year at this point. I would like to think I’m a good judge by now.” She looked at Yunjin and then back at Kazuha. “I may read too many novels, but is this a real-life second-chance romance in the making?” 

Kazuha chuckled as she shook her head. “How can it be a second chance if we were never actually together?”  

Eunchae gaped. “You mean to tell me, after everything I know about you two, you were never actually in a relationship?” 

“No.” Kazuha dropped her voice. “All we had was a drunken one-night stand.” 

Eunchae covered her mouth in shock. “You skipped all the way to that?!” 

“It just happened. The opera company had a big achievement, so we threw a party. The next morning, we were cuddling together on the couch in the dressing room, hungover, and wearing each other’s shirts. We never really talked about it after.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Honestly, I don’t know. I guess it was some sort of unspoken agreement between us.” 

“Did you ever want to talk about it?” 

“Of course. Our relationship always confused me.” 

“Well then, this may be your chance.” 

“We can hope.” 

Yunjin came back to the counter with the application in her hands. She handed it to Kazuha and let her hands linger for a few seconds before signing, “Thank you. See you soon,” and walking out of the café. 

“See you,” Kazuha signed. “That had to be on purpose, right? I’m not being delusional?” she asked Eunchae. 

Eunchae chuckled. “For once, I don’t think you are.” 

Kazuha elbowed Eunchae lightly. “Okay. Get back to work.” 

Eunchae shrugged. “You’re the one who asked, but okay.” 

“Touché.” 

Kazuha tended to the next customer as Eunchae went to take pastries out of the oven. All in a day’s work. 

It was a pretty slow afternoon when Kazuha saw Yunjin walk into the café again. She was working the front counter with Jimin. She noticed Yunjin wasn’t alone. 

“Manager Kim?” Kazuha muttered to herself. 

“Hello, welcome in,” Jimin greeted. 

“Thank you. I’m Yunjin’s interpreter, Minjeong. We’re here for an interview,” she said. 

Yunjin nodded to confirm Minjeong’s statement. Jimin gave them a thumbs up and went to get Sakura from the back. A few moments later, Sakura walked out and sat down with Yunjin and Minjeong. 

Kazuha felt a sense of déjà vu as she watched them. She had been in the same position just a year ago. She glanced at Jimin, who seemed to be looking at Minjeong, who was speaking for Yunjin as Yunjin signed her answers to Sakura’s questions. 

“Do you like her?” Kazuha asked. 

“I mean, she is beautiful,” Jimin said. 

“Yeah, she is.” 

“But the person next to her is prettier, right?” 

Kazuha flushed slightly. “Am I really that obvious?” 

Jimin chuckled. “It was actually just a hunch. I’m glad to know I’m right, though.” 

“You’re pretty perceptive.” 

“How else do you think I got this job?” 

Kazuha nodded and looked back at the interview. She thought the two people she knew named Jimin—the doctor and her co-worker—had a quality about them; they sugarcoated nothing. That was something she appreciated. The interview looked like it was going well. Yunjin’s signs were a little confusing to follow, but Minjeong’s words made them easier to understand. The inflection in Minjeong’s voice conveyed the enthusiasm Yunjin wanted to put forward. Kazuha could tell Yunjin wanted this job just as much as she did when she interviewed for it. 

“Wow, Minjeong’s amazing,” Jimin marveled. “The way she speaks is so captivating.” 

Kazuha agreed with the sentiment. Yunjin was guaranteed to get the position. Even if she didn’t speak one word. Sakura knew competence, and Yunjin was one of the most competent people Kazuha knew. 

When Yunjin and Minjeong got up to leave, Kazuha noticed Yunjin shot her a victorious smile. It was one of those: “Yeah, I totally aced it” smiles. And Kazuha knew she did. 

Chapter Text

Yunjin loved the holiday season, but the peppermint mochas, sticky cinnamon buns, and all the troubles with the whipped cream dispenser were getting a bit too much for her. She should’ve understood what came with starting work in December. Everyone else made it look so easy. She guessed it came with experience, as they all said, but she wanted it to be easy for her too. However, unfortunately, her work here had only just begun. 

“Can I get some help with this?” Yunjin signed as she struggled with a filter for the espresso machine. 

Kazuha, who was the closest, saw her struggling and went over to help. She guided her hands to lock the filter into place properly. “There you go.” 

“Thank you,” Yunjin signed in JSL. 

“No problem.” Kazuha paused for a moment before asking, “Do you think you can teach me sign language sometime? Korean and American, I mean. I didn’t understand all of your signing. I just saw it looked like you were struggling with the machine.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry for confusing you. I would be happy to teach you.” 

“It’s okay. And you would?” 

“Sounds like fun!”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you.” 

“It’s no bother at all!”

“When can we start?” 

“After work.”

“Really?” 

“Sure. You can come over to my place.”

Kazuha smiled. “Lucky we’re scheduled for the same shift today, then, huh?” 

“Yeah.”  

They looked at the clock on the wall. 14:34. Less than half an hour before their shift ended. Time was on their side for once. 

Yunjin’s place looked pretty much the same as Kazuha remembered from all those years ago. Yunjin still kept a framed picture of them in front of the opera house from when they got on the news, and the stuffed swan Kazuha bought her as a memento on top of the shoe rack at the entrance. The only major changes were the furniture in the living room and the decorations on the walls, including updated photos of Yunjin’s family. 

“How is your family nowadays?” Kazuha asked. 

“They’re doing well! They still ask about you sometimes, you know? ‘I wonder how that Kazuha girl you always talked about is doing.’ I never know how to respond. I want to say you’re well too, but somehow that feels like a lie.” Yunjin gestured towards Kazuha’s prosthetic. “You lost a leg, for God’s sake!” 

Kazuha chuckled. “That’s true, but I’m doing much better now. I don’t have as much trouble with it anymore. While I miss dancing, and I always will, I think I’ve done pretty well for myself. So, you can tell your family the next time they ask that I’m not only doing well, but we’ve reunited, and you’re teaching me sign language. I bet they’ll have a lot of questions after that.” 

“They would probably go crazy with that information.” 

“I would love to see their reactions.” 

“I’ll record them for you.”

“Promise me you’ll show me if you do?” 

“Of course!” 

“So, are you going to show me sign language?” 

“Aren’t I already showing you sign language?” 

Kazuha chuckled softly. She always liked Yunjin’s sense of humor. “You haven’t changed at all.” 

Yunjin smiled at the way Kazuha responded to her joke. “How about we start with a greeting first? Then we can do the alphabet.” 

“Okay.” 

Yunjin clenched her fists, making a knocking motion in front of her with both her hands. “Hello, how are you?” 

Kazuha copied the motion. She noted that the Japanese sign had an extra motion and that the fists were in a different position compared to the Korean sign language version. It must’ve taken years for Yunjin to understand the intricacies of this, with how similar Korean and Japanese sign language were. Kazuha thought there was no way she could admire Yunjin more, but Yunjin always proved her wrong. 

Yunjin bounced back quicker than Kazuha, using languages she used to use to communicate with fans to communicate by herself. Kazuha remembered one time they met a deaf fan. The fan wasn’t able to hear Yunjin’s singing, but still could enjoy the story of the opera. They started speaking in English, accompanied by American sign language, saying they were visiting their family in Korea and loved opera. Yunjin signed with them. Kazuha didn’t understand the signs at all. 

Back then, the only sign language Yunjin knew was ASL. That was still impressive. The fan was pleasantly surprised at her knowledge of it. 

“I had a deaf friend back in the States. She taught me,” Yunjin had said when Kazuha asked about the interaction. 

Kazuha knew some Japanese sign language at the time, but not enough to carry a full conversation. She stared in awe. Yunjin cared so much about the world and the people in it. 

Yunjin tapped Kazuha’s shoulder. 

Kazuha snapped out of it. “Huh?” 

Yunjin tapped her chin with her pinky. “You okay?” 

“What’s that sign?” 

“The sign for ‘okay.’” 

“What’s the sign for ‘I’m sorry?’”

Yunjin put her index and thumb together, bringing them to her forehead and then lowered her hand, spreading her fingers. She frowned. “You don’t have to apologize, though,” she signed in JSL. 

“I just remembered something about back then.” 

“What is it?” 

“When we met that deaf fan.” 

“You still remember that?” 

I remember everything about you, Kazuha thought. “Yeah,” she said. 

“That’s sweet.” 

“So you learned the other sign languages after that?” 

“Korean and Japanese sign? Yes.” 

“Just like in your free time?” 

“It took quite a while.” 

“I can imagine.” 

“Let’s do a greeting in American sign language now.” 

“Okay,” Kazuha signed in KSL. 

Yunjin waved, put her knuckles together, turned them so her palms were facing up, then pointed at Kazuha. “Hello, how are you?” 

“Wow, that’s so different.” 

“It makes sense, doesn’t it? Compare English and Korean.” 

“When I first moved here, you had no idea how grateful I was that you knew English.” 

“That first year was rough.” 

“I got better.” 

“You can pass as Korean now.” 

“I’m glad you think so.” 

“You need to trust yourself more, Zuha.” 

That nickname again. There was no reason for that to disarm Kazuha as much as it did. It was perfectly normal. Her co-workers called her by it sometimes, in an endearingly teasing way, like Eunchae when she noticed crumbs on Kazuha’s lips from eating one of her freshly made salt bread rolls, or Lily when she caught Kazuha almost tripping over the mop bucket while cleaning up a coffee spill once. This tone was different. This was an instruction Kazuha was compelled to follow. 

“I will,” Kazuha said. 

Those two words were her promise. She didn’t need to add anything else. 

Yunjin put her right hand against her lips and then put it into the palm of her left hand. 

“What’s that one?” Kazuha asked. 

“The ASL sign for ‘good,’” Yunjin signed. 

“How do you keep track of this?” 

“A lot of practice. I also have a lot of notes, if you think that’ll be helpful.” 

“Are you kidding? Of course! I’ll carry a huge binder home. I don’t care.” 

“It’s more like three separate binders, but I’ll grab them after this.” 

“No problem.” 

They went through the alphabet in Korean sign language next. Kazuha couldn’t quite get over how one of the letters made it look like she was flipping someone off. When Yunjin showed her the sign, she was taken aback for more than a few moments. She knew every language had its expressions of profanity, and that this decidedly was not that, but it still caught her off-guard. Yunjin showed her how to finger-spell, and there the sign didn’t look nearly as egregious, but she couldn’t get the way it looked out of her head. Sign language went there, it seemed. She had to prepare herself for a lot of messing up. 

The American sign language alphabet was slightly longer to accommodate the difference between English writing and Hangul. These signs were far tamer, in Kazuha’s opinion. She tried signing her name in ASL, but the expression on Yunjin’s face after she did told her she had done something wrong. 

“What did I do?” Kazuha asked. 

Yunjin showed the signs for “P” and “K” again. Kazuha smacked her forehead. That was stupid. That was like someone messing up their b’s and d’s in elementary school. She was better than that. 

Yunjin grabbed Kazuha’s wrists. “Girl, calm down. It was a simple mistake. I even made it the first couple of times.” 

A comforting warmth surged through Kazuha as she looked down at where her wrists were held. Two years later, she was still affected by Yunjin’s touch. The gentleness in it, the way you could break down and know you’d be held. 

Yunjin let go, and the moment was broken. “Sorry,” she signed in KSL. 

“No, it’s okay. I needed that, I think,” Kazuha said. 

“Happy to help.” 

“Let me try again.” 

Yunjin nodded, urging Kazuha to go on. Kazuha finger-spelled her name in ASL, getting it right this time, seeing the difference between “K” and “P”, the latter of which she signed at first. Yunjin gave her two thumbs-up and a sweet smile. Kazuha let out a sigh of relief. She was glad she had such a patient teacher. 

Pulling out her phone, Kazuha realized how late it had gotten. Time seemed to fly by when she spent it with Yunjin. She wanted it to be the opposite, but she knew that was not how the world worked. The clock continued ticking forward; it didn’t care if you were falling behind. That was one thing the accident taught her. She needed to move as time did. Easier said than done. The past was so easy to fall into, even if the present was enticing. Making new memories was harder than going back to ones that were already made. 

She looked up. Yunjin was already looking at her. They stared at each for a few moments. Her heart started racing as she observed Yunjin’s features, from her round eyes, the light blush on her cheeks, to her auburn hair, and full lips resting in a soft smile. 

Averting her eyes, Kazuha cleared her throat. “It’s getting late. I should go.” 

Yunjin stood up, grabbing her notes from her room. She handed them to Kazuha. “Get home safe.” 

They were heavier than expected, but nothing Kazuha couldn’t handle. “Thanks.” 

Yunjin guided Kazuha to the door, bidding her a farewell. Kazuha stepped into the Seoul winter air. Goosebumps covered her arms in seconds. Yunjin stepped back to grab a jacket from a closet near the door. 

She took the binders from her for a moment and handed her the jacket. Kazuha graciously took it, zipping it up. Yunjin handed the notes back. 

“See you tomorrow,” Kazuha said. 

Yunjin bent her hand into an L-shape and put it under her chin. 

“What’s that one?” 

“KSL for ‘later.’” 

“All right.” 

Kazuha walked off Yunjin’s porch as Yunjin shut the door behind her. As she walked home, all Kazuha could smell was the scent of Yunjin on her jacket. The fabric softener and faint scent of floral perfume she missed so much. Maybe time didn’t need to go slower after all.