The morning began with the usual scent of coffee and the murmur of voices in the second‑floor café of the Ko‑Ei Productions building. Ri‑chan was already there, stirring her cup with a cat‑shaped spoon while Haruto skimmed the day's schedule on his tablet. Akari arrived with steady steps and offered a slight bow.
"Where's Kurohane?" Ren asked, looking around.
"I didn't see her in the halls," Haruto replied without looking up. "She's not on the group chat either."
Ri‑chan puffed her cheeks, thinking. "Maybe she overslept? But she always wakes earlier than everyone… like an emotional ninja."
Akari offered to look for her. She climbed to the residential floor and walked the corridor in silence. Passing the bathroom, she paused. From inside came a faint voice, the sort of muttering you use when talking to yourself—fragments, broken murmurs.
"Kurohane?" Akari asked, tapping the door.
No immediate answer. She tried the handle; it was locked.
"Sorry… I'll be out in a minute," Kurohane's voice said from within, trying to sound steady.
The door opened slowly. Kurohane stepped out with a flawless smile, but Akari—who'd learned to read feelings over the past days—noticed something off. The smile had no light. It was a mask.
"You okay?" Akari asked softly.
"Of course. I was just… clearing my head. Thanks for checking."
Akari didn't press further, but something tightened in her chest.
*
At practice, the group worked on choreography for the pre‑debut show. Akari moved with fluidity, her steps synchronized with Ri‑chan and Ren. Even Haruto—who rarely praised—nodded in approval.
Kurohane watched from the back. Her eyes tracked every movement, every turn, every note. Inside her, something twisted.
"How did she pick this up so fast? How can she be this synchronized in just a few days?"
When rehearsal ended, Kurohane went to the bathroom. She closed the door, slid down the wall, and sat on the floor. Her breathing was ragged.
"I don't understand… I don't understand… why she can and I can't," she whispered, eyes wide as if searching the ceiling for answers.
*
Later, in the common area, Ri‑chan and Akari recorded a video for HeyTube. The camera caught their laughter, the jokes, their spontaneous gestures. Akari spoke about learning to enjoy the process while Ri‑chan struck exaggerated poses behind her.
Kurohane watched them from a distance. She recalled the words she'd told Akari days earlier: "Acting isn't being fake. It's showing the part of you others want to see."
But now, seeing them shine, she wondered:
"And what about what we cover up? If we ignore what we hide, does it end up destroying us? Or what do we do with it?"
She clenched her fist until her nails bit into her palm, then retreated to the living room.
*
There she turned on a screen and watched performances by her favorite idols on HeyTube. She took notes, analyzed breath techniques, gestures, transitions. She wanted the pre‑debut show to be flawless.
Ren entered with a water bottle and sat beside her. "Studying?" he asked.
"Yes. I want everything to go well. I'm refining every detail. Ren… what do you think of my style?"
Ren watched her quietly, then said in his calm tone, "Your style has always been unique. You're strict, yes, but also understanding. When I'm not around, you're the one who keeps the group together. You're like… an emotional guide with discipline. A perfect combination."
Kurohane lowered her gaze; her eyes shimmered with tears only slightly.
"I just wanted to know what you thought of me."
Ren leaned forward a bit. "If you need anything, I'm here. Really."
"It's not necessary," she answered, regaining composure. "Focus on the performance."
Perfect? But I'm far from perfect… why is he lying to me? Oh—maybe he's only showing me what he wants me to see.
*
At dinner, the group gathered in the dining room. Ri‑chan chatted enthusiastically. "Akari‑chan dances like a pro now! It's like she installed an idol chip!"
Akari blushed, laughing. "Don't exaggerate…"
Kurohane ate quietly. Haruto watched her attentively, then typed a message on his tablet and sent it to Ren.
Haruto: Ask her what's up. She's acting strange.
Ren looked at Kurohane. "You okay, Kurohane?"
She looked up with a soft smile. "Yes. I'm just thinking a lot about the set. But I trust you all."
Ri‑chan raised her glass. "That's it! Trust! We're synchronized like a Swiss watch with cat ears!"
Everyone laughed—everyone except Haruto, who kept watching Kurohane. She ate faster than usual, as if she wanted to finish before anyone else. When she stood, she was the first to leave the dining room.
The group watched in silence. Ri‑chan, forcing a nervous smile, tried to break the tension. "Relax—she's probably developing her pre‑release routine. You know, that thing artists do before they release work… to control their emotions and focus."
Ren nodded. "It's true. She always uses strategies for everything."
But no one noticed how Akari watched Haruto with concern. He kept his gaze fixed on the door Kurohane had taken.
*
In the final scene, the camera glides down the silent corridor. Kurohane walks alone, her steps barely audible. The voices return in her mind like echoes that never left:
"No one must know your weakness."
"That girl… that carefree girl who used to sing and dance with abandon was so immature, so foolish."
"What happened to her? Why was she so happy being so naive?"
"Your mother was right. When you grow up you can't stay foolish. But now… she no longer exists."
Kurohane stops in front of the hallway mirror. Her reflection doesn't smile. It only watches, as if waiting for her to finally dare to break.