Misa felt a pang of regret—just a little one—peering out the window of the car, watching a little girl with two braids and a blue dress hopping up and down in front of a storefront. Her manager was driving her to her next photo shoot.

At one point she had thought about having children—if she met the right guy, of course—beautiful children, a daughter, maybe? And she could teach her all the right things, and name her something pretty, Mari maybe, and if she had a boy she'd name him after her lover and whoever the child was could look up and see the beautiful two of them and she could say something like

Your daddy and I are very happy together, and someday you'll be very happy, too!

Someday—

She'd be a good mother, she really would have been, she was sure of it—

But parents didn't—always—stay, and she knew that, too.

And she wouldn't have the time.

Love, though. She would manage love absolutely and without question.

…Soon, she hoped.

She bit her lip.

She was going to help Kira.

Her eyes in the mirror and the camera lens were still that deep, gorgeous blue despite the fact that they weren't really hers anymore.