The Ko‑Ei Productions building still slept under the dimness of six in the morning. The fifth‑floor corridor was silent, save for the faint hum of the ventilation systems. Akari Tanabe, hair tousled and eyes still heavy with sleep, walked toward the bathroom and froze.
A few meters away, by the large window in the hall, stood Haruto. He held his phone in one hand, the other resting in his pocket. His posture was relaxed, almost indifferent. He stared out at the city with his usual cold expression, as if the world could not reach him.
Akari couldn't make out his words, but something in his calm, measured tone stirred an unease she couldn't explain. When Haruto turned his head slightly, his gaze passed near where she stood. Akari jumped, feeling discovered, and hurried into the bathroom.
While splashing water on her face, she tried to steady herself. Who was Haruto talking to so early? Why did he seem so composed?
There were no answers—only a sense that something shifted beneath the surface.
She returned to her room but sleep would not come. She tossed and turned until the alarm hit 7:00 a.m., its gentle but insistent chime cutting through the quiet.
*
In the kitchen, Akari made breakfast and noticed Kurohane was already there, seated with a cup of tea. Her posture was straight, but her eyes seemed hollow.
"You got up early," Akari said as she poured coffee. "You okay?"
Kurohane smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.
"Yeah. I just woke up early. Probably nerves about today's presentation. I'm fine—don't worry."
Akari watched her closely.
"You sure?"
Before Kurohane could answer, Ren burst in with his usual energy.
"Good morning! Are you as excited as I am? Today's the day. We'll show them what we're worth and earn the debut permission."
They replied with quiet affirmations, trying to mirror his enthusiasm.
*
Ri‑chan arrived a little later in her usual burst of energy.
"Time to change! I'll be the cutest beauty of the group, nya~" she declared, striking an exaggerated pose with her hands like cat ears.
Laughter mingled with nervous excitement. Everyone went off to get ready. Haruto, without a word, lingered a few seconds watching Kurohane before following them.
*
The presentation began with clockwork precision. Lights danced across the stage, the group moved in sync, smiles sparkled—everywhere except on Haruto's face, which remained distant, as if his body were present while his mind wandered somewhere else.
During the third lateral move, Kurohane stumbled. Her fall was awkward and unexpected. The lights cut, the music stopped, and silence settled heavy in the air.
Ren rushed to help her up. Executives exchanged puzzled looks. The manager approached with a neutral tone.
"That's enough for now. Take the rest of the day to rest. We'll speak later."
The group dispersed in silence. In the common room, Kurohane bowed deeply in a formal apology, hands on her thighs as she leaned forward about fifteen degrees.
"I'm sorry. I was clumsy."
Without waiting for a response, she left with her head bowed. Ren tried to follow, but Ri‑chan held him back.
"Don't. She needs time to think. Sometimes silence helps more than words."
*
In her room, Kurohane sat on the floor, hands to her head. Her breathing was ragged, thoughts chaotic.
"Stop! Leave me alone! I just need more time!" she whispered, grappling with something unseen.
The voices in her head wouldn't stop:
"You couldn't do it even after months of preparation."
"How can you face them now?"
"You don't deserve to be an artist."
"You're just worthless."
A knock on the door interrupted the spiral.
"I can't see anyone right now," she answered, voice broken.
"I know how you feel," Ren said softly from the other side. "But this was just a mistake. It happens to everyone."
"Go away!" she snapped. "I worked my whole life and I'm still mediocre! How much longer? How much more must I keep going?"
Her voice cracked and tears began to fall as she stared at the floor.
Ren waited a moment.
"No one in the group judges you. We all go through this. We understand."
Kurohane rose slowly and opened the door. Her face was undone, but her eyes searched for answers.
"Why don't they hate me? I'm not at your level."
Ren looked at her with tenderness.
"It's not about levels. It's about time. Everyone has their own pace to grow. You… you just need yours."
He guided her to the bed and they sat together. Kurohane lowered her gaze.
"As a child, my mother always insisted I had to be perfect. Never settle. She said complacency led her to marry a terrible man. She told me if she'd valued herself more, she would've gotten something better."
"And you?" Ren asked.
"I was her project. An only child, often alone. Singing became my escape. But my voice… it used to earn ridicule. I was humiliated. I buried myself in technique, in logic. That's how I won the contest to get into Ko‑Ei. But I always saw others adapt more quickly. They were better at everything. I… just worked. I didn't sleep. I didn't rest. I only wanted to be enough."
Ren listened without interrupting.
"When I became a counselor and sub‑leader, I felt in control. But seeing Akari progress so fast… and today… it made me realize I'm no good for this."
Ren placed a steady hand on her shoulder.
"Your strength is that you give everything. Your effort outshines innate talent. You're sub‑leader by merit. From day one I admired you. You've always been a beacon when there was no path. We need you. Ko‑Ei needs you."
Kurohane stared at him in astonishment. At that moment both their phones chimed. A system notification appeared:
"A second chance for the presentation has been approved. Prepare for the new rehearsal."
*
Elsewhere, Akari and Haruto also received the notice. Haruto gave a rare, slight smile.
"Think Kurohane will be okay?" Akari asked.
Haruto, in his usual indifferent tone, replied:
"She's strong. Also, in the coming days you'll see interesting things. Keep your eyes wide open."
Akari looked at him, puzzled.
"What do you mean?"
Haruto turned toward the window.
"What you don't see… often becomes a surprise. For good… or for ill."