My Ice-King : Hanamitchi

Yuri's POV:

Y/N is not Y/N anymore…

The girl I knew—

the one who used to laugh at dumb jokes, hold my hand too tight when she was nervous, hum softly when she cooked—

She's not here.

What happened to her?

This version of her—

cold eyes, steady trigger finger, blood on her face like it means nothing—

It's too much.

She's not my soft girl anymore.

She's sharp edges and haunted silence.

She's vengeance dressed in black.

And the worst part is—

I still love her.

Even like this.

But God…

I miss the version of her who used to cry in my arms and whisper she couldn't sleep without me.

I miss the warmth. I miss her.

And I don't know if I'll ever get her back.

I'm really confused now…

I finally got her back.

But not like I imagined.

Not with a smile.

Not with soft words or a warm hug.

But with blood on her hands and silence in her eyes.

I took her back to our old hideout.

The place we used to crash at, laugh, eat cheap ramen, talk about stupid dreams—

Now it's quiet.

She's quiet.

We haven't met in almost two years…

And this is how fate decides to bring us back together?

Gunfire, revenge, and a version of her I barely recognize?

No.

Something's off.

This wasn't just a coincidence.

It can't be.

My dad.

He knew.

He planned this.

He pulled the strings from the start.

That fucking old man.

I clenched my jaw, fists tightening.

I need answers.

He knows everything.

And this time—

he's going to tell me everything.

We reached the hideout.

She didn't say much—just stayed quiet the whole way back, eyes locked on something far beyond the window, far beyond me.

As soon as we got inside, she went straight to the bathroom.

The sound of the water ran for a long time.

Too long.

Like she was trying to wash everything off—not just the blood, but the weight, the years, the pain.

When she finally came out, she looked… calm.

But not at peace.

Like the storm had settled, but the damage still lingered.

She sat at the edge of the bed, towel around her neck, hair damp, wearing one of my old hoodies.

And in a soft, flat voice, she said—

"Your turn. Go shower."

I nodded without a word.

But inside, I was screaming.

I wanted to hold her.

To talk to her.

To ask her a thousand things.

Why didn't you come back sooner?

What happened to you?

Are you okay?

Are you really here?

Do you still love me?

I turned on the water, rushing to shower as fast as I could.

My hands moved quickly—shampoo, rinse, out.

Because even a minute more without hearing her voice felt unbearable.

I wanted answers.

I wanted her.

And I prayed—

when I stepped out,

she'd still be there.

When I finished my shower, I stepped out quietly—

half-expecting her to still be sitting on the bed, waiting, maybe ready to talk.

But she wasn't.

She was lying down… asleep.

Her face was calm, Peaceful, even.

Nothing like the firestorm I saw back at the mission site.

No blood. No gun. No rage.

Just her - eyes closed, lips parted slightly, breathing soft and steady.

I stood there for a moment, frozen.

I couldn't wake her.

She looked too fragile, like if I touched her, she might slip away again.

So I sat beside her

I watched her chest rise and fall.

And the ache inside me only grew stronger.

Because this girl—this woman lying next to me—

She felt like a stranger and home at the same time.

Carefully, I lay down beside her.

Close enough to feel her warmth.

But not close enough to disturb her peace.

And in the quietest whisper, I leaned in and asked—

"Are you the same Y/N…? My babe?"

Her eyes slowly fluttered open.

I froze.

For a second, I thought I was dreaming.

But no—she was really looking at me.

Not through me.

At me.

And then she spoke—

soft, raw, like she'd been holding it in for years.

"Yuri… I missed you so much that… I didn't even realize I turned into this."

Her voice cracked at the end, and my heart clenched.

"I tried so hard to come back to you. As soon as I could. Every day, I wanted to just drop everything and run to you."

She looked away for a moment, then back at me—

eyes wet but steady.

"But something always held me back."

I didn't move.

I didn't speak.

I just listened.

Because this—

this was the Y/N I'd been waiting for.

And no matter how much had changed—

that voice, that heart, that need to come back to me…

That was still her.

My babe.

My Y/N.

And I was finally hearing her again.

I couldn't speak.

My throat tightened, my heart pounding so loud I swore she could hear it.

I was frozen—

caught between reality and the overwhelming feeling of finally.

She looked at me with those wide, tired eyes—

the kind of tired that came from surviving too much.

Then she pouted her lips slightly, tilting her head.

"Babe… are you angry with me?"

God. That pout.

Even after everything, she still had that part of her.

That softness. That Y/N.

I couldn't resist.

Not anymore.

I didn't say a word.

Didn't need to.

I leaned in—

and kissed her.

Her pout melted against mine.

One kiss turned into another, and then another—

deeper, slower, more desperate.

Like we were both trying to fill the emptiness we'd been carrying all this time.

Between the kisses, I whispered—

breathless, honest, shaking from emotion:

"Finally… my life isn't empty anymore."

Another kiss.

"I missed you too, babe."

Another.

"So much… you can't even imagine."

She was here.

In my arms.

Not a memory, not a dream—

but real.

And I wasn't letting her go ever again.

She pulled away, her breaths uneven, her forehead gently leaning against mine.

Her eyes searched mine, almost pleading, almost breaking.

Then she whispered,

"Yuri… let's not go anywhere."

Her voice was soft, vulnerable—like a fragile wish she was afraid would shatter if spoken too loud.

"Let's stay like this… let's forget the world for a while. Just you and me.

I don't want to go anywhere. Let's stay here."

My heart clenched.

She wasn't asking for much—

Just peace.

Just us.

No missions.

No revenge.

No running.

Just the quiet space between our heartbeats.

I nodded slowly, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face.

"Okay, babe. We'll stay."

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close against my chest, like if I held her tight enough, the world really would disappear.

Just you and me.

In this small, hideout.

Where love still found a way back.

Time Skip – Morning

The early light filtered through the cracked window blinds, painting soft golden stripes across the bed.

Y/N was still asleep, curled slightly into Yuri's chest, her breathing calm—peaceful.

Ding.

Yuri's phone buzzed.

He blinked his eyes open, careful not to wake her, and reached over to check the message.

Dad:

Come back home, Yuri. Bring Y/N too.

He stared at the screen for a moment, jaw tightening slightly.

Then he began typing.

Yuri (reply):

Dad, I have so many questions to ask you. But not now. I have to fulfill Y/N's wish first. We'll come back as soon as possible.

For the time being… I'm not taking any missions. Sorry, Dad.

He sent it.

Then, without hesitation, he switched the phone off and tossed it gently onto the nearby table.

He turned back to Y/N, brushing his fingers lightly over her arm.

Right now, the world could wait.

His father could wait.

The missions, the past, the questions—

All of it could wait.

Because she was finally here.

And he wasn't letting her go.

Yuri tightened his arms around her, pressing a gentle kiss on her hair as he drifted back to sleep—finally, with peace in his chest and the woman he waited for in his arms.

Hours passed…

The afternoon light warmed the room when Y/N finally opened her eyes.

Her lashes fluttered, adjusting to the gentle brightness, and for a moment, she didn't move.

She just felt.

His arms still wrapped around her—firm, protective.

Her head resting against the chest she'd missed so much…

The familiar sound of his heartbeat thudding steadily under her ear.

After two whole years—

two years of running, hiding, fighting, crying, screaming silently at the world—

she was finally here.

With him.

Right where she belonged.

She tilted her head slowly and looked up at his sleeping face.

The most handsome face she had ever seen…

Even more than she remembered.

Even after everything.

Even with that slight tired crease between his brows, the stubble on his jaw, the traces of sleepless nights—

he was perfect.

She smiled to herself, quietly whispering,

"I'm really back… and you're still here, Yuri."

Her fingers gently brushed his cheek, as if to confirm it wasn't a dream.

And for the first time in forever,

she felt safe.

Y/N closed her eyes again, her smile slowly fading as the warmth of the present gave way to the cold shadows of the past.

The memories rushed in like waves—

dark, violent, and uninvited.

She saw it clearly—

the first time she killed a man.

Her hands had trembled.

Her ears rang for hours after the gunshot.

She remembered staring at the blood—

on her fingers, her clothes, under her nails—

and thinking, This isn't me. This isn't who I was supposed to be.

That night, she had gone to the sink and scrubbed her hands.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

Again.

She kept washing—

until her skin turned red and raw—

as if she could wash away the guilt, the fear, the change.

But the stain wasn't on her skin.

It was buried deep,

inside her.

And still, she endured it.

For survival.

For justice.

For the promise she made to herself.

To come back to him.

A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

But she didn't move.

Not yet.

She stayed wrapped in Yuri's arms, letting the safety of the moment hold her together—

because it was the first time in two years

she didn't have to pretend she was okay.

"You awake…" he murmured, his voice still rough from sleep but warm and gentle.

He shifted slightly, brushing his fingers softly across the corner of her eye, wiping away the tear that had escaped.

"What happened?" he asked again, concern evident in his tone.

But Y/N didn't answer right away.

She looked up at him, her eyes still glossy, but now filled with something else—tenderness.

A quiet kind of peace.

She reached up, resting her hand lightly against his cheek,

and with a small smile, she whispered,

"Nothing… it's just… it's beautiful to wake up by your side, Yuri."

That one sentence said everything.

The pain she carried.

The longing.

The strength it took to survive—

and the overwhelming comfort of being home, even if just in his arms.

Yuri didn't speak.

He simply pulled her closer, kissed her forehead,

and held her like he'd never let her go again.