Ms. Ito's heels clicked briskly against the tile as she led us through the U.A. hallways, her posture straight and purposeful. Asuka and I followed a few steps behind, still buzzing from the meeting and the unexpected turn our morning had taken.
"Michi," Asuka whispered, leaning in with a mischievous grin, "he's shorter than I thought he'd be."
I bit back a laugh. "Well, you know," I murmured, giving her a sly look, "it's about the garage, not the car."
That earned a snort from her—and another one from me. Our whispered giggles bounced quietly between us until Ms. Ito let out an audible sigh from ahead.
"Immaturity," she muttered, just loud enough for us to hear.
We straightened immediately, exchanging a guilty glance like two kids caught passing notes.
When the laughter finally faded, Ms. Ito glanced over her shoulder at me—sharp, assessing, almost curious in a way that made me stand a bit taller.
"Michi," she said, "your cousin attends here, doesn't he? Oboro Shirakumo. Class 2-A."
I nodded, pride rising instinctively. "Yes. That's right. Oboro is in 2-A. Training hard every day—he wants to be a hero more than anything."
Speaking his name out loud always stirred something in me—gratitude, admiration, a little homesickness. He's been my benchmark since childhood. If he could throw himself headfirst into danger to help others, then I could throw myself into dance practices and vocal drills to chase my own dream.
"My aunt never lets anyone forget it," I added with a faint smile. "She tells everyone we're like two sides of the same coin. Both stubborn. Both dedicated. Both chasing something bigger than ourselves."
Asuka nudged me playfully. "She also calls you 'the next big idol,' doesn't she?"
I rolled my eyes, but warmth spread through my chest. "She says it to strangers at the grocery store. It's… embarrassing. And kind of sweet."
Ms. Ito didn't smile, not exactly, but her expression softened just enough to be noticeable. "Family pride is a powerful motivator," she said.
Asuka perked up beside me, her eyes lighting with sudden excitement. "Hey, Ms. Ito, can we stop by their class while we're here?" she asked, already sounding hopeful.
Ms. Ito slowed her stride but didn't turn around. For a moment, I thought she might actually consider it—but then she shook her head gently.
"No, not today," she said firmly, though not unkindly. "We have a schedule to keep, and Principal Nezu is expecting us to remain prompt."
She glanced back at us, her expression professional but understanding. "I know it would be nice to see your cousin, Michi, but we can't afford delays. This visit was already outside our usual routine."
Asuka's shoulders sagged a little, and I managed a small nod. She was right; the day had already been strange enough without adding unscheduled detours.
"Come along," Ms. Ito added, picking up her pace. "We need to return before we fall behind."
Asuka perked up beside me, her eyes lighting with sudden excitement. "Hey, Ms. Ito, can we stop by their class while we're here?" she asked, already sounding hopeful.
Ms. Ito slowed her stride but didn't turn around. For a moment, I thought she might actually consider it—but then she shook her head gently.
"No, not today," she said firmly, though not unkindly. "We have a schedule to keep, and Principal Nezu is expecting us to remain prompt."
She glanced back at us, her expression professional but understanding. "I know it would be nice to see your cousin, Michi, but we can't afford delays. This visit was already outside our usual routine."
Asuka's shoulders sagged a little, and I managed a small nod. She was right; the day had already been strange enough without adding unscheduled detours.
"Come along," Ms. Ito added, picking up her pace. "We need to return before we fall behind."
We followed Ms. Ito down the hallway, our footsteps soft against the polished floors. Even though she had already said no to stopping by 2-A, I couldn't help glancing at every classroom door we passed. The anticipation of maybe—just maybe—catching a glimpse of Oboro warmed in my chest. It had been so long since I'd seen him in person. Too long.
Naoki rarely allowed family visits unless Ms. Ito or Ms. Shio supervised, and even then, they were quick and controlled. Seeing Oboro by pure chance would've felt like breaking the rules of our world in the best way.
We continued following the hallway signs toward the exit, Ms. Ito maintaining her brisk pace to keep us on schedule.
"Let's move quickly," she reminded us without looking back. "We need to return before the director checks the time."
Asuka and I exchanged a silent, shared sigh. So much for surprises.
Just as we turned the final corner leading toward the lobby, voices drifted toward us—familiar ones.
"C'mon, Oboro, you can't seriously think you beat me to the rooftop," a boy teased.
Another voice followed, light and theatrical. "Oh please, Kaminari, I lapped both of you—"
Then I saw them.
Oboro stepped into view, flanked by two classmates—a sandy-blonde boy crackling faintly with leftover static, and another with dark hair and a laid-back grin. They were mid-conversation, books tucked under their arms, completely unaware of us until we nearly collided.
Oboro blinked.
Then froze.
Then broke into a wide, startled smile.
"Michi?!"
My heart leapt. "Oboro!"
Before any of us could process the coincidence, Ms. Ito gently cleared her throat. "Let's keep it brief," she warned, though not unkindly. "We're on a tight schedule."
Oboro's friends looked between us curiously.
"Yo, Oboro," the dark-haired boy murmured, elbowing him. "Is this your sister or something?"
Oboro shook his head quickly. "No—this is my cousin," he said proudly, gesturing to me. "Michi."
Asuka gave them a polite bow, and one waved enthusiastically. "Nice to meet you!"
"Same here," I replied, cheeks warm with both joy and the shock of timing actually working in my favor for once.
But the moment didn't last long. Ms. Ito placed a hand on my shoulder—gentle, but firm.
"We truly must go."
Oboro sighed, but his smile stayed bright. "I'll text you later," he promised—then glanced at Ms. Ito, hesitating for half a second. "Actually… I'll walk you guys out. It's on my way."
Ms. Ito paused, weighing time against politeness, then gave a small nod. "Fine. But only to the front doors."
That was all Oboro needed. He immediately fell into step beside me as we headed down the hallway, his two friends trailing behind for a moment before peeling off with quick waves.
Asuka drifted to my other side, pretending she wasn't listening while very much listening.
"So how's training?" Oboro asked, hands shoved into his pockets, voice light but his eyes genuinely searching. "You look… tired. But in the good way. Like, 'pushing toward your dreams' tired."
I snorted. "That's a poetic way of saying I look like I haven't slept in a week."
"Well… do you?" he shot back with a grin.
"Not the point," I muttered, but I couldn't hide my smile.
Asuka chimed in before I could continue, "She's working hard. Harder than anyone else in our group."
Oboro gave a proud little nod. "Of course she is. It's Michi."
The hallway lights reflected off the polished floors as we neared the lobby. Oboro glanced around, then lowered his voice.
"You eating well? They treating you right over there?" he asked. It wasn't casual—more like big-brother energy wrapped in concern he tried (and failed) to hide.
"Mostly," I said honestly.
"Mm." He didn't push, but he didn't like that answer either.
Before I knew it, we reached the front doors. The sunlight flooded in, warm and blinding compared to the cool hallways.
Oboro held the door open for us, smiling softly. "Text me sometime that isn't at three in the morning," he teased.
"No promises," I said, stepping out.
Asuka waved. "Bye, Oboro!"
He lifted a hand in return. "Take care of her, alright?"
"Always!"
And as we walked down the steps, Asuka nudged me with a grin. "Total coincidence, huh?"
I nodded, heart still racing. "Best one I've had in months."
Rather than making us run the whole way back, Ms. Ito called a cab, muttering something about being completely off schedule. Asuka and I exchanged a look that was equal parts relief and exhaustion before sliding into the back seat.
By the time we arrived at Naoki and Sons Entertainment Agency—the place that had become more of a home than home—I felt the weight in my chest loosen just a little. The building's sleek glass entrance glowed in the afternoon light, the familiar hum of activity behind the doors oddly comforting.
Inside the lobby, the bright lights and polished floors greeted us like an old friend. Asuka nudged me gently, offering a quiet smile. It wasn't much, but it was enough—a silent way of saying you're not dealing with all this alone. She and the other trainees were the only ones who knew even a sliver of what my contract demanded from me, and that alone made their presence grounding.
The receptionist, who had practically watched us grow up in this building, gave us her usual warm smile.
"Welcome back, Michi, Asuka. How was UA?"
I forced a small smile, one that probably fooled no one. "Interesting," I said, keeping my tone light. "A bit unexpected."
Asuka jumped in immediately, eager to redirect. "Yeah, definitely not what we planned for today. But we're glad to be back."
Before the receptionist could ask more, Ms. Ito stepped in, finishing her conversation with a clipped nod. She motioned toward the elevators with her tablet tucked under her arm. "Upstairs, both of you. We're already behind."
We hurried into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a soft chime. The brief moment of quiet gave me space to breathe before the next wave of work.
Soon we reached our floor and made our way to the practice room—a place that smelled of sweat, effort, long nights, and longer dreams. The moment I stepped inside, a rush of familiarity washed over me. The scuffed floors, the mirrors smudged by countless fingertips, the beat of music still faintly echoing from the last group… all of it felt grounding.
We slipped into the practice room just as the music cut, Zenith freezing mid-formation. Their sweat-sheened faces turned toward us, breaths heavy, clothes clinging from hours of work. Miyo hovered behind them with her tablet, pausing playback long enough to give a sharp correction to Dexter's footwork before noticing our arrival.
"Back on time," she said, though her raised eyebrow suggested otherwise. Still, she waved us in. "Positions. You're shadowing Zenith for the next run."
Asuka and I hurried to our marks at the back of the room, weaving between discarded water bottles and the tangle of speakers against the wall. Zenith loosened their shoulders, resetting. Even exhausted, they looked sharp—like a team on the brink of something big.
Oli was the first to speak, offering a warm grin despite the fatigue in his eyes. "Hey, guys. You survive your field trip?"
Before I could answer, Lux pushed his hair out of his face and leaned on his knees. "Yeah—spill. How was UA?"
I forced a smile, hoping it hid everything churning inside me. "It was… fine. Just a last-minute visit. We didn't get to stay long."
My mind tried to drift back to the hallway, to Oboro's surprise and the two boys—whose presence still lingered sharper than expected. I didn't realize I'd gone quiet until Asuka jumped in with her trademark flair.
"The Principal's office is basically a beige dungeon," she declared dramatically, waving her hands for emphasis. "And the staff? So stiff I thought they'd creak when they walked."
A tired laugh rippled through Zenith. Even Chas cracked a half-smile.
I was grateful for Asuka—not just for her humor, but for the way she could pull me back from the edge without even realizing it. Being part of Naoki and Sons had its share of pressure and strange rules, but moments like this reminded me why I stayed. The friendships forming between all of us felt real, something solid to hold onto in a world that demanded perfection.
Before the moment could stretch further, Miyo clapped her hands sharply. "Alright, break's over. Reset! From chorus two."
The music surged back to life—heavy bass, sharp beats, choreography snapping into place. Asuka and I stepped in behind the boys, letting muscle memory take over. The world narrowed to rhythm, breath, and the thrum of the floor beneath our feet.
Practice wound down more smoothly than expected. No corrections from Miyo on the way out, no last-minute drills, no surprise assessments. Just a tired "Good work today" as the trainers filed out, leaving us to cool down on our own. Usually, Oli would clap his hands, call for one more run-through, and keep us going until dinner. But today he just stretched his arms over his head and said, "We'll pick it up tomorrow."
That alone made the rest of us exchange looks—small victories.
With practice done, we collected our things and took the elevator up to the dorm floor. The hallway lights glowed softly, reflecting off the polished floors that still felt too nice for a bunch of exhausted trainees. Each of us had been given our own room—a rare luxury—and the attached bathrooms were a blessing after long days like this.
As I walked down the hall toward my door, the air felt strangely quiet, almost peaceful. For the first time since stepping foot in UA earlier that day, my shoulders finally began to relax.