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Izumi wakes up to Arashi in his bed and no alarm, so he rolls over and closes his eyes again. Unless his manager texts with some last-minute bullshit (won't be the first time), his morning should be completely free.
Then Arashi shifts in her sleep with a sleepy noise, and that makes Izumi jolt awake. She has a shoot at ten o'clock and her alarm hasn't gone off, even though he saw her set it last night. Gritting his teeth, he reaches over to grab her arm and shake her awake.
Arashi peeks up from where her face is half-buried in the blankets, revealing her sleep-softened features. Her eyes crack open and she yawns again. The blankets fall back to reveal a peach-coloured nightgown, matte buttons heart-shaped and patterned with almost-invisible cats. It looks expensive. Izumi didn't know Arashi owned something like this.
He looks closer. Arashi blinks confusedly at him, something about her face not how he remembered. She still looks like Arashi Narukami in the same way the slender, airbrushed blonde plastered on glossy magazine pages looks like Arashi Narukami, but without any of the commercial fakeness. Like the veteran has become even more of a veteran, with none of the cynical weight that a lifetime in the industry will place on a model's shoulders.
(Arashi has always been better at carrying that weight than Izumi. He blames her athletic training in high school.)
The only thing he can think to say is, "what the hell are you wearing?"
That makes his girlfriend lurch upright, her hair sticking up in places from static electricity. Izumi's eyes trail her hand, noticing the understated French tip nails when she was just gushing about the adorable shade of lilac Mika painted them in just before she left for Italy. He can't stop himself from looking at all the parts of her that seem off, almost as if she was replaced by someone else in her sleep.
She's staring back, which either means something is wrong or they're both losing their minds. When Arashi speaks, there's an almost-velvety undertone to her voice, like she's playing way into the big-sister shtick: "I go to bed in this every night, what do you mean?" Her eyes flick down to his pyjamas, then around the bedroom, almost like it's her first time here. "Wait, how old are you?"
"What do you mean, we've known each other for this long and you've forgotten — " She looks dead serious, so Izumi pinches the bridge of his nose and replies, "I'm twenty. It's 2021 and you're in my bedroom in Florence. Did the air pressure from your flight last night mess with your head or something?"
Best case scenario, Izumi's hallucinating. Then Arashi sighs, propping up a pillow to lean against, and gives him a slight smile. "I never thought I'd get to be the older of us two. Izumi, darling, I'm twenty-nine years old, and the last thing I remember is the wild afterparty we went to in Milan. You live there now, by the way. You got enough gigs that it was more convenient to move there."
He squints. "Why are you ten years older than you're supposed to be? If you know what we'll be up to when we're pushing thirty — " Izumi grabs at the sheets. What the fuck. "How the fuck are you here?"
The way Arashi twists her thumb ring hasn't changed, nor the way she purses her lips. Then she finally says, "you're twenty, right? Have you walked for Valentino yet?"
It feels like she threw a bucket of ice water over him. The blanket falls off Izumi the rest of the way as he leans forward. "What?"
She laughs. "That's a no, then. You finally made it to Milan for the autumn-winter season and Knights' entire fanbase went insane over your outfit." He jumps when Arashi places a hand on his knee. "The Izumi from my time still has legs for days, I'm so jealous."
Every little worry that has plagued Izumi since he moved here — work visas, rent, the number of gigs he can book, the continued existence of Knights — flees from his head the more Arashi talks. How much does she know, how much have they done? He wills his breathing to slow, for the heady rush of ambition — of knowing exactly how the next decade is going to go for him — to fade away. He says next, "please tell me Knights is still a thing ten years later."
The edges of Arashi's eyes crinkle. "We don't release new songs very often, but we still perform together once in a while, yes. Poor Tsukasa's up to his ears in work."
"Of course he is." Slowly, he lets go of the sheets. "When do I move, then? Travelling for hours to Milan just for gigs is such a pain."
With nothing covering them, Izumi can see her legs stretch out all the way. He tries not to stare. "I think you must've been twenty-two, that was when you more than had your foot in the door. Leo still freeloads at your apartment even though he's basically set for life."
"Of course he does."
"I'm flying all over the place when I don't have idol work, of course," Arashi continues, "even did a stint in New York a couple of years ago. Ritsu and Tsukasa had to help me perfect my English in only a month."
He can picture it — Arashi, several years older with the experience to show for it, taking on the world as she flits from city to city, studio to studio with barely a break in between, downing espressos to stave off the jet lag but always having the time to admire herself in every mirror she sees. "And am I doing the same?"
That makes Arashi pout, and it seems that time turns back as she leans over to pinch Izumi. "Darling, if you wanted to know about your future then my Izumi would've gone back in time to tell you all about it. I don't want to spoil everything for you, but I promise that you're on the right path. If you'd done anything even slightly differently, I wouldn't exist."
Izumi vaguely remembers his English lessons at Yumenosaki covering something like this. What's it called when every tiny choice he's made in life has led to this exact moment? The butterfly effect? He places a hand on Arashi's wrist just as she slides off the bed, her skin impossibly soft and smooth. It's always been as close to perfect as skin can be, but now Izumi doesn't even dare to hold onto her in case he makes some ugly crease appear. He can't shake the urge to take bigger leaps and rise through the fashion world at a pace that scares even him, knowing that it'll all be worth it in the end. But now his lover is in his room, lounging in a space that he thought she would've long outgrown, acting like she hasn't aged a bit when they're in a career where time is always running out, and it seems like taking it step by step might not be so bad after all.
Arashi makes no sound as she gets to her feet, crossing the room to fling open Izumi's closet. He doesn't stop her as she looks through the few hangers waiting there, all of them showing off outfits that Izumi pulled strings to get for her before they can even reach Japan. She still rests her weight on one leg while standing idly, even though he keeps warning that it'll give her hip pain. She never listens.
"It'll take some time before I figure everything out. I don't think I've managed that, even now." When Arashi turns her head, she's staring somewhere past Izumi. "Turns out there's a lot you have to do if you want to be the most beautiful person in the world, but I'm sure you know that already."
He thinks of Arashi as she is now, throwing herself heart and soul into both model and idol work now that there's no schoolwork to distract her, fully prepared to dazzle the world even if not everyone knows what exactly they're supposed to be dazzled about. No matter what happens or how people react, she'll keep trying to be her best self, that's for sure. If Arashi from the future is standing in front of him now, that should be guaranteed. "Then tell me. What will Naru from my time get up to in the next ten years?"
She laughs, turning back to peer at a minidress. "I won't let you spoil my own growth, that's no fun. Hmm..." Delicate fingertips trace the neckline. "Oh, I came out."
"Really?"
"I wouldn't lie about that, silly." Arashi takes the dress out, holds it against her body. It doesn't look like it'll fit anymore, but her expression stays light as ever as she shrugs and puts the hanger back on the rack. "When I made the announcement on my website, I must've been twenty-one, twenty-two? I had to have so many meetings with the NewDi execs beforehand, it was 'so annoying', to put it in your words."
If there's anything from this conversation that Izumi should remember, it's this. "How did it go?"
Arashi's silent for a few moments, looking through more clothes. She's admiring a ruffled, embroidered blouse when she replies, "I lost some fans, but gained lots more, too, and the dedicated ones promised to stick by me as long as I'd have them. Not many people were surprised with how often I called myself a sister-knight — plus all the Queen-themed merch, can't forget that. But, you know, there are those folks that need to see the phrase 'MtF' before they consider it true."
Uncertainty is everyone's mortal enemy in the entertainment industry, but Arashi has always had more at stake. Izumi might not be able to fully understand, but there has to be something especially shitty about that doubt breaking out of your career and concerning who you are at your core. Izumi locks eyes with this Arashi, who's taken a risk greater than he could ever imagine and is thriving nonetheless, and presses, "and you're happy?"
Her eyes gleam. "I get paid to travel the world and wear designer clothes. I'm taking medicine that'll help me be the most beautiful and true to myself I've ever been. Of course I am, darling."
They end up standing face to face without even realising it. Arashi glances down at Izumi before placing her hands around his waist, blushing as he does the same. “We end up the same height eventually, too. It's great."
He can't help letting out a puff of laughter, pulled flush against the new softness of Arashi's frame. "I'll tell my Naru all of this. She deserves to know she's on the right track."
"You should be aware that nothing is set in stone, even if I'm here talking to you." Arashi blinks hard, her cheeks flushing pink. "Who knows? In ten years, the fashion trends you'll be working with might be different from the ones I'm used to. Don't think I can't see you judging my pyjamas."
"Don't you find them tacky?"
She pinches him again. "That aside, I could also stop existing the moment I go back. The Arashi from your time could unexpectedly go down a different path, retire from the entertainment world entirely and go back to university. She wouldn't be the first idol to do so." Arashi's shoulders slump, and at that moment she looks more like a tired young girl, unsure of what to do with her future. "She could crack under pressure, get into some kind of accident onstage, go back in the closet and become someone she's not. I can't control that."
Izumi's breath catches. Sometimes he forgets that things are only okay right now, that all of it could disappear from a big-enough mistake, or if his and Arashi's luck is bad enough. "Do you think I can?" He whispers.
"You act like you can sometimes. But I told you already, I'm not going to explain how our lives play out."
"Then, like I said, I'll only share what I learnt from you with Naru. She'll still have a life to live out, but now she'll know that everything will be alright in the end."
It's Arashi's turn to snicker, her gaze flicking downward. "Just so you know, you'll sound absolutely insane. She's more likely to laugh at you."
The worst thing is that she's right. What's Izumi going to do, wait until Arashi — the one who's younger than him, as she should be — wakes up and tell her he knows she'll be living her best life in ten years? She won't listen if he tells her what to do so he won't bother, but even then, how will she react when he starts acting like a prophet who's gained the ability to see into the future?
"Well?" Arashi tilts her head. "Are you still planning to give her all the juicy details of our conversation?"
Izumi sighs. "I trust Naru to make the right choices for herself," he replies, even if it sounds kind of condescending. "If my future self came back in time as well maybe I'd be able to figure out which one of us has made it further, but until then it would be sabotage to tell her anything."
He yelps as Arashi holds onto him even more tightly, and he realises that she seems to still be using the same perfume from Cocktail Piano, even if it has to be outdated. "Sounds like a plan. You know, it's not a bad thing if your Arashi strays from the path I took. Maybe she'll reach my level of success even earlier!"
The thought of Arashi surpassing him when this one's already so breathtaking and accomplished stokes sparks of ambition through his veins, filling him with a heady rush like he's standing on stage in front of a live audience. Izumi feels the urge to do anything when he gets like this, knowing that however well he does, however far he reaches, Arashi will somehow be waiting for him, not even looking winded.
"I can't tell if you want to kiss me or punch me," Arashi teases, and her nails dig lightly into the back of Izumi's nightshirt where her fingers are laced. "Both, maybe?"
Instead of doing either, Izumi leans forward until he can see the needlework painstakingly stitched into the collar of Arashi's nightgown. While pink floods her cheeks (that hasn't changed either), he asks, "is there anything you wish I would've done for the two of us, then?"
The small of Izumi's back feels cool as Arashi removes one of her hands to wave it in front of his face. "Tell me why I'm still unmarried. If there's one thing about your future I'd like you to change, it'll be to not take so long to propose."
His heart skips strangely in his chest. "Oh," is all he can think to reply with.
"You look like you're about to drop to one knee." Arashi touches his cheek with the back of her fingers. "Not that it would be the first time, though. Remember how wild we went with fanservice when performing Mystic Fragrance live?"
Now he's sure that his face is just as flushed as Arashi's with how warm his cheeks feel. "What happens if I propose to you right now?"
Arashi takes a step back, almost colliding with the closet door. "W-Well, given neither of us know how we're talking to each other, it would probably cause some kind of chaos — rip a hole in the fabric of time, or whatever they say in sci-fi shows." She exhales shakily, a breeze blowing in from the half-opened window to make her nightgown flutter. "Were you planning on asking?"
"Do you want me to start some kind of space-time fuckery?"
"Something tells me that wouldn't stop you." A floorboard creaks beneath them, and the early sunlight illuminates Arashi's hair. "But then, this isn't the most picturesque place for a proposal, is it?"
This is a bedroom Izumi has furnished and decorated himself, in an apartment he rents so he can get ever closer to his dreams. When he looks out the window, the city he's learning to dazzle day by day stretches out for miles. This room is just as much a testament to how much he's come since graduating from Yumenosaki — but there's not enough of Arashi here. "Not yet," he says. "Not until she's caught up with me."
"Bold of you to assume that I'm the one who needs to keep pace." They end up on the other side of the bed — on the side Arashi usually takes. Her phone and a myriad of skincare products are crammed onto the nightstand, jewellery haphazardly scattered on top of a jar of moisturiser. "Don't you dare fall behind, darling. Even if I'm not the Arashi Narukami waiting for you in ten years, I'll never forgive you if you hand me victory on a silver platter."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Arashi picks up the phone off the nightstand and switches it on. Her lockscreen is a photo Knights took when they went to England last summer — Leo and Tsukasa had the time of their lives over all the places with "King" and "Knight" in their names, and Arashi spent the whole trip complaining to Ritsu about her lacklustre English. Izumi, meanwhile, tried to curb his judgement over everyone's mediocre fashion sense in case his agency sent him over for London Fashion Week. "I should be getting ready, right?"
It's five minutes to eight, five minutes until the alarm that was set last night is supposed to go off. Izumi stares back at the five idols frozen in time on the screen, their smiles blurred from the shitty camera quality, and can't help smiling back a little. "You're already late if you don't show up to the studio fifteen minutes early. I hope you haven't forgotten that."
"Wouldn't dream of it," she parrots back at him before setting the phone down. "Keep your promises like an honourable Knight and don't breathe a word of this to the Arashi of your time, alright?"
Izumi has no idea how much time has passed. But everything will go on like normal once this Arashi is gone, leaving him to continue with his day — with his life — like she was never there. After all, just because she's told him that everything will be okay eventually doesn't mean it won't be a pain in the ass to get to that point. "I'm not planning to. Not anymore."
"In that case, it's time for me to go." The mattress doesn't creak as Arashi sits down, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She pats Izumi's spot, already pulling the blankets back over herself. "Get a few more minutes of shut-eye before starting your day. You need to get more sleep and drink less coffee."
Without mentioning how it's absolutely Leo's fault for enabling his caffeine addiction, Izumi climbs into bed. He instinctively reaches for Arashi, pulling her close until his cheek is pressed against her shoulder. "You're going to have one hell of a hangover when you get back to your time," he mumbles.
"It was worth it to see you." Arashi touches his cheek again, fingertips tracing Izumi's jaw until he looks up. Her bright eyes are tinged with softness, lips impossibly soft and pink even without lipstick. "Now, whether I see you in ten years or not, remember what I said. Until then, darling."
Already his eyelids are drooping, even though the soft warmth of Arashi's body against his has never made him feel this content before. Izumi tangles their legs together, closing his eyes as Arashi presses her lips to his forehead.
The monotone beep of Arashi's phone alarm makes them snap open again, and Izumi lifts his head with a groan to see her sit up. This Arashi is wearing a plain nightdress and his bathrobe that she stole, lilac fingernails clicking against the phone screen until the alarm stops. "Ohh..." she yawns. "Good morning, dear. Do you want to go back to sleep?"
"While you're off being productive? No thank you." He climbs out of bed with her, eyeing her still-sharp frame, the knobbly joints that will smooth out and soften in time. "How did you sleep?"
She gives him a weird look. "Pretty good, but I'm sure the jet lag will kick in at some point. You wouldn't stop complaining last night until I went to bed insanely early, so you were onto something for once."
"I'm always onto something," Izumi retorts, "so maybe you should start listening to me more often." He's about to go to the bathroom to wash his face but Arashi beats him to it, and with how she monopolises the sink it'll be at least fifteen minutes until he can start his morning routine. Still, Izumi follows her, leaning against the doorway to watch.
Cheeks pink from more than being scrubbed with a towel, Arashi shoots him a glance. Her bangs are slightly wet, skin glowing despite the harsh white light above the mirror. Izumi makes a mental reminder to change the lightbulbs into a more flattering tint. "Do I have a pimple?" Arashi asks.
Both the Arashi in the mirror and the Arashi by the sink are staring at him. Izumi shrugs, replying, "not that I can see. If you stick to your skincare routine, you should be fine."
"Hmph, I suppose so." She goes back to getting ready, painting on the model persona with each expensive product she applies. But even if she shows up to the photoshoot bare-faced, Izumi will still be the only person to have seen her as she is.
He has to bite his lip to keep this morning's secrets from spilling. As Arashi grows into herself step by step, the best thing Izumi can do is make sure he stays by her side the entire time.