Originally written for femslash100 on LiveJournal.

Disclaimer: NANA and respective characters belong to Ai Yazawa.

"Yuki…"

She heard voices every day and this was the first one that struck a chord.

"Yuki?"

She instinctively shrank behind the bar, hands tugging the short sleeves of a black shirt over fading lotus tattoo. Even if she kept her head down and concentrated on the pint a young fella in grey had sent her way with a wink, she knew, deep down, that there was no escaping this time. At least.

"Yuki."

It was what she'd come up with on the spot at the impromptu interview she'd landed herself in (Openings For Live Performers: Enquire Inside). Yuki, she'd reflected later on, gazing at bleached blonde hair reflected in the rain-streaked window of a tiny apartment somewhere in darkest Soho. It was always raining here since the day she'd rented the place from a skinny old widow who frowned at her accent. But it would snow later on, she'd heard. That much was true.

"Yuki."

She wanted to go back to the apartment now, to some semblance of home. Even if it was always frigid to touch, mirthless on nights when the rain beat harder on the window-panes, and no less welcoming than the arms of an occasional one-night-stand the morning after. She did not want to be reminded of warmth. Not right now.

"Yuki."

God, it hurt.

A hand pressed on her shoulder, small and firm. She already knew it from the very first trembling note in that sweet, familiar voice.

"Please, Nana…"

She finally nodded and they both cried.