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Akito liked to think he was careful.
He had to be, living under the same roof as Ena. His older sister had a sixth sense for finding things that annoyed him, poking at every sore spot until he snapped.
So he kept his room locked, his notebooks hidden, and his phone passcode-protected at all times.
Or at least, he usually did.
That Tuesday evening, he’d been tired after practice. His throat was raw from rapping, his hands sore from drumming on concrete. All he wanted was to collapse on the couch with something cold to drink. He’d tossed his phone onto the coffee table without thinking, Spotify still open.
And Ena, of course, was right there.
She wasn’t even looking for trouble at first. She’d been sketching idly in her notebook, curled up on the couch. But then she spotted the glow of his phone screen and leaned over..
Her pencil paused. Her lips curved into a grin.
“Ohhh, what’s this?”
Akito had just stepped into the kitchen, rummaging for a soda. His head snapped up at her tone. “What?”
Ena’s smirk widened as her eyes skimmed the screen. “No way. No fucking way.”
A spike of dread hit him. “Don’t—”
But it was too late. Ena picked up the phone, tilting it toward herself. Her laughter burst out almost immediately, sharp and delighted.
“Airi?!”
The can of soda slipped in his grip, hissing as it hit the counter. “Give that back.”
“Oh my god.” Ena’s voice was half a cackle, half disbelief. “You, Akito Shinonome, Mr. ‘Idols are fake,’ Mr. ‘Street music is the only real thing’
She leans forward, grinning evilly “Yet you’ve got a whole playlist of Airi's songs.”
Akito marched back into the living room, face red. “It’s not like that!”
She hopped off the couch to stay out of reach, scrolling gleefully. “Oh, it’s exactly like that. Look at this, live versions, B-sides, remixes? You even have her old pre-MMJ singles. This is insane. You’re her number one fan.”
“Ena!” He lunged, but she darted away, holding the phone away from him. “I said give it back!”
Her grin only sharpened. “Nope. This is too good. You’ve been hiding this from me for how long? What, years? My little brother, secretly an idol stan?”
“Shut up!” His voice cracked, which only made her laugh harder.
“Ohhh, I can’t wait to tell her-”
“Don’t you dare!” Akito froze in place, eyes wide, panic flaring across his face before he could stop it.
Ena blinked once, then her smirk turned positively evil. “Oh. Ohhh. This is even better than I thought.” She tapped the phone against her chin, pretending to think. “So you don’t want me to tell Airi, huh?”
Akito’s jaw clenched. “…No.”
“Why not?” she pressed, stepping closer, enjoying every twitch of his expression. “Because you’d die of embarrassment? Or because you actually–”
“Shut. Up.”
She laughed, triumphant. “Bingo.”
…
Ten minutes later, Akito was sulking at the kitchen table while Ena scrolled through her phone like nothing had happened. His own device was back in his possession, but the damage was done.
“You’re gonna keep this to yourself,” he muttered darkly.
“Mm, I don’t think so.” She glanced up, her grin sharp as ever. “See, this is prime blackmail material. And as your older sister, I feel it’s my duty to make full use of it.”
Akito slammed a hand on the table. “You’re a piece of shit...”
“Thank you, I know.”
He buried his face in his hands. “What do you even want?”
Ena leaned back in her chair, thoughtful. “Let’s start with chores. You can take my turn on dishes this week.”
“Tch. Fine.”
“And laundry.”
“No way.”
She tapped her phone screen. “Should I DM Airi right now? I’m sure she’d love to know her biggest underground supporter lives in the next apartment over.”
Akito’s groan rattled the table. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would.” She smirked. “So… laundry?”
“…Where’s the basket.”
…
By the end of the week, Akito had become a full-time errand boy.
“Akito, grab me a melon soda.”
“No.”
“I’ll tell Airi you streamed her summer single fifty times.”
“…What flavor?”
“Akito, fold my laundry.”
“Fold your own damn clothes.”
“Wow, can’t believe Airi’s #1 fan is so unhelpful.”
“…Fine. But I’m not folding your socks.”
“Akito, clean the bathroom.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Do you want me to screenshot your Spotify Wrapped?”
“…This is abuse.”
It was torture. Every time he thought maybe she’d forget about it, Ena found some new way to twist the knife. She even started humming Airi’s songs while sketching, just to watch his ears turn red.
The worst part? She didn’t even need the phone anymore. The knowledge alone was enough. Akito could feel her smirk every time he so much as glanced at his earbuds.
It was like living with a ticking time bomb.
Because Ena hadn’t actually told Airi yet. She was just dangling the threat over his head, waiting for the right moment. And every time the doorbell rang, every time Ena mentioned her best friend’s name, Akito felt his heart skip like he was about to be exposed.
He hated it. He hated that his sister had this kind of power over him.
But more than that, he hated that she was right.
Because, yeah, he was a fan. He’d never admit it out loud, not to her, not to anyone, but Airi’s voice had always stood out to him. Bright. Honest. Not fake, not hollow, not like all the other idols he’d seen. She felt real.
And that made it worse. Because if Airi ever did find out, what the hell was he supposed to say?
…
That night, Akito lay awake in his room, earbuds in, volume low. Airi’s voice filled the silence, steady and clear, wrapping around his thoughts.
He scowled at the ceiling.
“Damn it, Ena.”
If she ever opened her big mouth, his life was over.
-
-
Blackmail was supposed to be temporary. At least, that’s what Akito told himself.
Maybe Ena would get bored in a day or two, find a new sketch to obsess over, or get wrapped up in one of her artsy online arguments.
But a week passed. Then another. And if anything, she was getting more creative.
“Hey, Akito,” Ena called from the living room one Saturday morning.
She was sprawled on the couch, legs draped over the armrest like she owned the place.
“Can you run down to the convenience store? I need snacks.”
Akito didn’t even look up from tying his shoes. “Then go get them.”
“Hmm.” Her phone screen lit up as she tapped something.
“Do you think Airi would be interested in a certain playlist screenshot I happen to still have?”
Akito’s shoulders stiffened. He yanked his shoelaces tighter. “You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?” Ena’s tone was honey-sweet, infuriating.
“I could draft the message right now. ‘Hey Airi, did you know my little brother streams your debut single every night before bed?’ That’s cute, right?”
Akito turned, glare sharp. “I don’t—” He cut himself off, gritting his teeth.
“Fine. What do you want?”
She smiled like a cat. “Melon soda, chips, and those taiyaki I like.”
“This is actual extortion.”
“Call it sibling bonding.”
---
He thought doing the errands would end it.
But by the time he trudged back through the front door with a plastic bag of snacks, Ena had already stacked his next set of chores.
“Laundry.”
“You already made me fold it last night.”
“Do you want me to recycle the same blackmail message, or should I spice it up?
Maybe: ‘Hey Airi, Akito hummed along to your stage mix yesterday.’”
He froze. “You were listening?”
“Of course I was.” She smirked. “You’re not exactly subtle.”
Akito dropped the bag on the table, groaning. “I hate you.”
“You’ll live.”
---
By the end of that weekend, Ena had turned the house into her personal kingdom.
Akito was the loyal servant, whether he liked it or not.
He vacuumed, scrubbed dishes, fetched drinks, even ran errands for her art supplies.
All while she lounged, sketchbook in lap, humming Airi’s songs just to watch him twitch.
It wasn’t that Akito was incapable of standing up for himself.
It was that Ena had him cornered.
One wrong move and she’d actually tell Airi, and then… No. He didn’t even want to imagine that humiliation.
He kept reminding himself: Ena was impulsive.
She’d get tired eventually.
She always did. Right?
---
Monday afternoon found him slumped at his desk, forehead against his arms.
Practice had been brutal.
An and Kohane were pushing themselves harder than ever, and he couldn’t slack either.
By the time he dragged himself home, he was half-dead.
Ena was waiting, naturally.
She greeted him at the door with that smug grin. “Welcome back, servant.”
Akito brushed past her, too tired to bite back. “Not today.”
“Wrong answer.”
He threw himself on the couch, shutting his eyes. “I said, not today. I’m done.”
There was a pause. Then the distinct sound of his sister snapping a picture.
He cracked an eye open. Ena was holding her phone over him.
“What now?”
She smiled sweetly. “A candid photo. Caption: ‘Local street musician secretly idol fan caught sleeping to Airi’s ballad.’ Should I post it?”
Akito bolted upright, horrified. “Delete that!”
“Only if you wash the dishes.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “You’re a demon.”
“And you’re predictable.” She waved her phone. “Clock’s ticking.”
---
It became routine.
Every day after practice, after school, after whatever else, he came home to some new task.
Ena never let up.
Sometimes it was small—fetching her pencils, making her tea.
Other times, full-on chores that left him grumbling for hours.
He tried to fight back once.
Flat-out refused when she told him to clean her room.
She’d only raised an eyebrow, opened her phone, and started typing: “Hey Airi—”
He caved instantly.
She laughed so hard she nearly fell off her chair.
---
But the worst part wasn’t the chores.
It was the way Ena dangled the secret over him, just out of reach.
Every teasing hum of Airi’s songs, every sly mention of “your favorite idol,” every knowing glance across the dinner table—it was torture.
Akito told himself he didn’t care.
He told himself it didn’t matter.
But lying in bed at night, earbuds in, listening to Airi’s voice—he couldn’t deny it.
She was different.
And that difference was exactly why Ena’s blackmail stung so much.
Because if Airi ever found out…
He’d never hear the end of it.
---
Ena wasn’t completely cruel.
Sometimes she’d let him off easy.
Other times, she’d pile on tasks just for the fun of it.
It depended on her mood, like the whims of some petty queen.
Tuesday night, she tossed him her sketchpad while he was mid-snack.
“Erase that last page for me. I don’t like the shading.”
He scowled. “Get it yourself.”
She raised her brows. “Should I warm up my thumbs?”
He groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “This is insane. You’re insane.”
“And you’re whipped.”
He slammed the eraser down on the page, grumbling the whole time. “I’m not whipped.”
“You’re doing my chores while denying it. That’s basically whipped.”
“I hate you.”
“Love you too.”
---
By the time Friday rolled around, Akito was at his limit.
His muscles ached, his patience thinner than paper.
But Ena showed no sign of stopping.
If anything, she seemed to be enjoying it more the longer it lasted.
He collapsed onto the couch after dinner, glaring at the ceiling.
Ena sat nearby, sketching calmly, pencil scratching over paper.
The silence stretched.
Then, without looking up, she said, “Hey, Akito.”
He groaned. “What now.”
“Nothing.” She smirked faintly. “Just wondering how long you’ll last before I actually tell her.”
His blood ran cold. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
He sat up, eyes narrowing. “Ena. Don’t.”
She finally looked at him, grin sharp. “Then keep playing along.”
And just like that, she bent back over her sketchbook, humming one of Airi’s melodies under her breath, while Akito seethed in silence.
---
The days blurred together after that.
Chores. Errands. Blackmail.
It was endless, and Akito couldn’t escape.
But somewhere in the back of his mind, a darker thought began to creep in.
If Ena really wanted to, she could drop the secret at any moment.
One slip, one careless word, and Airi would know.
And if that happened…
Akito didn’t know what he’d do.
For now, all he could do was endure.
And hope his sister’s game had an end.
-
-
Akito had gotten used to the rhythm of Ena’s torment.
Do the chores. Put up with the teasing. Endure the humming of Airi’s songs slipping from his sister’s lips like an endless loop. It was exhausting, but manageable. At least Airi herself wasn’t actually around to witness any of it.
That changed on a Wednesday afternoon.
He came home from practice, sweat still clinging to his shirt, only to freeze the second he opened the front door. Voices. Two of them. Ena’s sharp laugh, and someone else’s, light and familiar in a way that made his stomach drop.
Airi.
Of course it had to be Airi.
He debated turning around and walking back out. But then Ena called, “Akito, that you?”
Too late.
He stepped inside, dropping his sneakers by the door. The sight that greeted him was almost surreal: Airi Momoi, idol-turned-MORE MORE JUMP! member, sitting cross-legged on his living room floor like it was the most normal thing in the world.
And she was laughing at something Ena had just said.
“Oh! Akito!” Airi waved cheerfully, as if they weren’t complete strangers who only knew of each other by proximity. “Welcome home!”
He froze for half a second too long before managing a stiff, “…Yo.”
Ena smirked from the couch, sketchbook in her lap. “What’s with the face? Surprised?”
“That’s one word for it,” Akito muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What’s she doing here?”
“I invited her,” Ena said, matter-of-fact. “We’re working on something.”
“Working on what?”
“None of your business,” she replied sweetly.
Airi giggled. “We’re just hanging out, actually. Ena’s been helping me figure out some poses and image ideas for a new shoot. She’s really talented, you know.”
“Don’t inflate her ego,” Akito said automatically, earning a glare from Ena.
---
The next hour was torture.
Akito tried to hole up in his room, but the sound of their chatter drifted down the hallway. Worse, Airi’s laugh carried. Every time he thought he’d tuned it out, it rang in his ears again. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t asked for this.
Eventually, hunger drove him back to the kitchen. He figured he could sneak in, grab a snack, and retreat without drawing attention. No such luck.
The moment he opened the fridge, Airi peeked in from the living room. “Oh! Akito, Do you want to join us?”
He nearly dropped the can of soda he’d grabbed. “No thanks.”
“Aw, come on,” Airi said with an easy grin. “We don’t bite.”
Ena added, “Yeah, Akito. Don’t be rude to my guest.”
He scowled, shutting the fridge a little too hard. “…Fine.”
Which was how he ended up sitting awkwardly on the living room floor across from Airi herself, pretending he wasn’t hyper-aware of every detail.
---
It didn’t get better.
Airi was… normal. That was the problem. She talked casually, laughed easily, didn’t hold herself with the untouchable air idols usually had on stage. She was just a girl sitting in his house, teasing Ena about her messy handwriting.
And Akito hated how much that made him like her more.
At some point, Airi leaned back against the couch, stretching. “You know, Ena’s told me a lot about you.”
Akito tensed. “What exactly?”
“Just little things. How you’re always practicing, how serious you are about music.” She smiled warmly. “It’s cool. I admire that kind of dedication.”
Heat crawled up the back of his neck. He stared at the floor. “…Thanks.”
Ena, of course, caught it instantly. Her smirk was razor sharp. “Oh? Akito’s blushing?”
“I’m not,” he snapped.
Airi giggled. “You two really are siblings, huh?”
---
That became the pattern.
Airi started showing up more often, thanks to her lighter schedule. Sometimes to hang out with Ena, sometimes just to kill time between rehearsals. And every time, Akito found himself dragged into the orbit against his will.
He pretended not to care. He acted annoyed. He scowled and grumbled and kept his answers short. But inside, his chest was a storm. Because every smile Airi aimed his way, every casual conversation she drew him into, it chipped at his walls.
Ena noticed, of course. She always noticed. And she milked it for everything it was worth.
“Oh, Airi, did you know Akito’s into street music?” Ena said one evening, watching her brother’s face carefully. “He’s in a group and everything.”
“Really?” Airi’s eyes lit up. “That’s so cool! You’ll have to let me hear you sometime.”
Akito nearly choked on his water. “No way.”
“Aw, come on,” she teased. “I bet you’re amazing.”
Ena smirked. “He thinks idols are lame, though.”
Akito shot her a death glare. “Ena.”
Airi blinked, surprised, then laughed softly. “Well, maybe he just hasn’t met the right ones.”
Akito had no response to that. He looked away, ears burning.
---
The slip happened on a Friday night.
They’d just finished dinner, and Airi was lingering while Ena cleaned up. Akito was scrolling through his phone on the couch, doing his best to look bored.
Airi plopped down beside him without warning. “So, Akito. Do you listen to idol music at all?”
His heart stuttered. “Why would you ask that?”
She shrugged. “Just curious. Since you’re into music, I wondered if you listen to all kinds.”
“Not really,” he lied smoothly.
“Oh?” Airi tilted her head, watching him. “That’s a shame. Some of it’s pretty good.”
“Sure,” he muttered.
She smiled knowingly, but let it drop.
At least, until a few minutes later, when Ena called from the kitchen, “Hey, Akito, pass me a towel!”
He tossed it over without thinking. And in that moment, distracted, he let his guard slip.
“You know,” he said absently, “the harmony you did in ‘Newly Edgy Idol's ’ was actually pretty solid. Surprised me.”
Silence.
It hit him a second too late. His blood ran cold. He turned slowly and saw Airi staring at him, wide-eyed.
Her lips curved into a slow, playful grin. “…You know that song?”
Akito’s mouth went dry. “I—uh—”
Before he could dig himself out, Ena’s laughter exploded from the kitchen. Loud, cruel, triumphant. “Busted!”
“Shut up, Ena!” Akito snapped, face blazing. But it was too late. The damage was done.
Airi leaned her chin on her hand, eyes sparkling with amusement. “So you do listen to idols. Interesting.”
“I don’t,” he insisted, mortified. “I just– heard it once. That’s all.”
“Mm-hm.” She didn’t press further, but her grin said everything. She knew. And worse, she was enjoying it.
Akito wanted to sink through the floor.
---
When Airi finally left that night, humming to herself as she waved goodbye, Ena pounced immediately.
“Oh, this is too good,” she cackled. “All this time, and you’re the one who outed yourself? Priceless.”
Akito buried his face in his hands. “I hate my life.”
Ena only laughed harder. “No, no, you just hate that your crush knows.”
He groaned, wishing for the earth to swallow him whole.
And in the back of his mind, Airi’s playful grin lingered. Bright, teasing, and just a little too knowing.
The worst part?
A small, traitorous part of him didn’t hate it at all.
-
-
Akito thought the worst part of Airi finding out would be the teasing.
And yeah—it was bad. The sly smiles, the knowing glances, the way she’d hum her own songs just loud enough for him to hear when she was around. But what really messed with him was that she didn’t treat it like ammunition. Unlike Ena, who never missed an opportunity to torment him, Airi just… smiled. Like it was a little secret between them.
That was almost worse.
---
The next week, she showed up at the Shinonome house three times. Too many for Akito’s comfort, not enough for his nerves to settle. Each time, Ena had a different excuse: “helping with a sketch,” “borrowing art supplies,” “hanging out, duh.” Akito suspected Ena just liked watching him squirm.
But Airi had changed. Before, she’d treated him as just Ena’s brother, quiet and distant. Now, her eyes lingered a little longer, her tone softened when she addressed him. Like she saw him.
It made his skin prickle.
---
Friday evening, Akito was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He’d had a long practice with Vivid BAD SQUAD, and exhaustion clung to his limbs. Ena was upstairs, thankfully, and he thought he had a moment of peace.
Then the doorbell rang. He dragged himself up, opened the door, and nearly dropped it off its hinges.
Airi. Again.
She smiled brightly, a casual bag slung over her shoulder. “Hey, Akito! Ena home?”
“She’s… upstairs,” he managed. “Sketching, probably.”
“Great.” She breezed past him with practiced familiarity, slipping off her shoes. “I’ll wait in the living room.”
Akito stared after her, heart pounding. She was too at ease. Too comfortable in his house. And the worst part? He didn’t hate it.
---
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Airi tapped her phone, humming softly under her breath. Not one of her group’s songs this time, something slower, unfamiliar, but sweet.
“You’re off today?” she asked suddenly, glancing at him.
“…Yeah,” Akito muttered. “Practice earlier. I’m done.”
“That’s good.” She tilted her head. “You should rest sometimes.”
He blinked. Rest? People usually told him to work harder, not slow down. “…I’m fine.”
Airi gave him a look,
Gentle, but knowing. “You don’t have to push yourself all the time, you know.”
Heat rose in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with the way she said that, like she actually cared. So he did what he always did: deflect. “You’re one to talk. Idols don’t exactly get breaks either.”
She laughed softly. “Touché. But I’ve been learning to make time for myself. MORE MORE JUMP! isn’t just about being idols, it’s about being happy with ourselves too.”
Her words lingered. They weren’t just fluff; she meant them. And Akito, against his better judgment, found himself listening.
---
Ena finally came downstairs, sketchbook in hand. “Oh, you’re here,” she said flatly. “Good. I wanted your opinion on this.”
The girls immediately fell into their usual chatter, debating color palettes and outfit designs. Akito tuned them out—until Airi dragged him back in.
“Akito, what do you think?” she asked suddenly, holding up a page. “Would this kind of outfit work for a stage?”
He blinked, caught off guard. The sketch showed a flowy dress with seemingly street style accents: bold lines, layered textures, asymmetry that felt but playful.
“…It’s decent,” he started, then frowned. “But if you’re aiming for stage use, the layers might get heavy. And under lights? Darker colors could flatten out unless you balance them with metallic accents or reflective fabrics. See these seams? They’d look sharp with contrast stitching, especially if you pair it with accessories that pop. A cropped jacket over this would pull the silhouette tighter too, it’d fit the street vibe without drowning the performer.”
Both girls stared at him.
Akito realized too late that he’d slipped into a different mode.
“…What?” he muttered defensively.
Airi’s eyes lit up. “That’s… amazing. You thought about everything, even the lighting!”
“It’s not a big deal,” Akito grumbled, shifting uncomfortably. “I… work at a boutique. Stuff like this comes up.”
Ena blinked at him, dumbfounded. “Since when do you care this much about clothes?”
“Since forever,” he shot back. “Someone in this house has to know how to dress properly.”
Ena glared. “Excuse me?”
But Airi only laughed, her voice warm and genuine. “I didn’t know that about you, Akito. No wonder you looked at it differently. You really know your stuff.”
He could feel his ears burning. “Don’t make it a big deal.”
But her smile lingered, softer now. Not teasing,
But admiring. And that, more than anything, unsettled him.
---
Later that night, Airi lingered after Ena disappeared to answer a call. It was just the two of them again, the room quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge.
“You know,” Airi said softly, “I was surprised. That you listen to us.”
Akito stiffened. “…I don’t.”
She laughed, not unkindly. “You can deny it all you want. I don’t mind.”
His ears burned. “It’s not like that.”
“Mm-hm.” She leaned forward a little, eyes sparkling. “You even knew the harmony part. That means you really listened.”
Akito gritted his teeth. Why couldn’t she just let it go? “Fine. Maybe I heard it a few times. So what?”
“So nothing.” Her voice was warm, genuine. “I just think it’s nice.”
That threw him. No mockery, no smugness—just a smile that made his chest tighten uncomfortably.
“Why?” he muttered.
“Because…” She paused, tapping her chin playfully. “It means my music reached you. That matters to me.”
Akito stared at her, words tangled on his tongue. He didn’t know how to handle sincerity like that. Not from her.
Before he could respond, Ena’s voice rang from upstairs, breaking the moment. Airi just grinned, standing. “Guess that’s my cue.”
She slipped on her shoes, waving as she headed for the door. But before leaving, she glanced back, eyes dancing with mischief. “Hey, Akito?”
“…What?”
“Come with me to the mall tomorrow.”
His brain stalled. “…What?”
“The mall. Tomorrow. You’re free, right?” Her grin widened. “Meet me at noon.”
And just like that, she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.
Akito stood frozen in the entryway, pulse hammering, Ena’s muffled voice floating down from upstairs.
Tomorrow? The mall? With Airi?
He sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.
What had he just agreed to?
-
-
Akito was regretting this the second he stepped off the train.
He wasn’t even sure why he came. Maybe because saying “no” to Airi had felt impossible at that moment. Maybe because he wanted to prove to himself it didn’t mean anything. Or maybe, a part of him he didn’t want to admit to, because he wanted to see her again.
The mall was already buzzing, shoppers crowding the polished halls. Akito shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, trying to blend in. But the moment he spotted a girl waving near the fountain, he almost didn’t recognize her.
Oversized hoodie, baseball cap, plain mask.
If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she was just another shopper. But the way she bounced on her feet gave her away instantly.
“Akito! Over here!”
Even half-covered, she somehow drew eyes. People glanced her way but didn’t linger, thankfully. She tugged the mask down just enough to grin at him.
“You actually came,” she teased when he reached her. “I was half-expecting you to bail.”
“Tch. I said I would, didn’t I?”
“True,” she said, voice muffled slightly by the mask. “Come on, let’s go before someone looks too closely.”
---
The first stop was a boutique. Not the one Akito worked at—thank god—but close enough to make him itch with familiarity. Racks of jackets and shelves of sneakers lined the walls, all carefully curated under warm lights.
Airi immediately pulled a shirt from the rack, holding it up against herself. “What do you think? Too much?”
Akito glanced at it. Bold colors, clashing patterns. “Yeah. The palette’s loud, but it doesn’t match your tone. It’d drown you out on stage.”
She tilted her head. “You’re not supposed to say stuff like that out loud, you know. People might connect the dots.”
“Then maybe don’t hold clothes up like you’re in a photoshoot,” he muttered.
She laughed, tugging her mask up higher. “Point taken. Still, what should I go for, then?”
“Something brighter, but cleaner. Lines that flow with movement. Something that works under stage lights without stealing focus.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You sound like a professional.”
“…I told you. I work at a boutique.”
“Right, right. But still, you’re really good at this.”
Heat crept up his neck. “It’s just common sense.”
“Not for everyone,” she said softly, setting the shirt back. “Most people just say ‘it looks cute.’ You actually… see things.”
---
Store after store, it became a pattern. Airi would hold something up, Akito would give his honest opinion, and she’d either laugh or beam at his answer. And each time, she pulled her cap lower or adjusted her mask whenever someone’s gaze lingered too long.
At one point, she tried on a pair of boots and spun around. “Well?”
Akito studied them. “They’re good for casual wear, but the sole’s too heavy for stage. You’d get tired fast.”
She raised an eyebrow above her mask. “So you’re saying I should buy two pairs of shoes today?”
“…That’s not what I said.”
Her laugh echoed warmly despite the muffling mask, bouncing off the boutique’s walls. A couple of girls nearby looked over, squinting like they were trying to place her face, and Akito felt his pulse spike.
“Don’t laugh so loud,” he hissed.
“Relax, it’s fine,” she whispered back with a playful glint in her eyes. “Besides… maybe I like keeping you on edge.”
---
By the time they stopped for drinks in the food court, his guard was wearing thin. Airi tugged her mask down just enough to sip her soda, watching him with curious eyes.
“You know,” she said, “you’re not what I expected.”
Akito frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I thought Ena’s little brother would be… quieter. Or maybe just someone who didn’t care about this stuff.” She smiled, adjusting her hat. “But you do care. A lot. About music, about fashion… about people.”
His chest tightened. “You don’t know me.”
“Maybe not,” she admitted. “But I’d like to.”
Her words hung in the air, light but heavy all at once. Akito found himself looking away, unable to hold her gaze. “…You’re weird.”
“Maybe,” she said with a laugh, pulling her mask back up. “But you’re interesting.”
---
They wandered a little more, conversation drifting between light teasing and quiet moments. Airi stayed close, lowering her voice whenever strangers brushed by, and Akito noticed how naturally she navigated the attention she couldn’t fully avoid.
Somewhere along the way, he realized he wasn’t counting the minutes anymore. He wasn’t just enduring this—he was… enjoying it.
The realization unsettled him. But when Airi brushed her hair back, smiling at something he’d said, he couldn’t bring himself to regret coming.
---
The sun was dipping low when they finally reached the mall’s exit. Airi stretched, exhaling happily. “Today was fun. Thanks for coming, Akito.”
“…It was fine,” he muttered, but softer this time.
She tilted her head, grinning behind her mask. “Fine, huh? That’s your highest rating yet.”
He rolled his eyes, but there was no bite in it.
They stood there for a beat, the crowd flowing around them, neither moving. Airi’s fingers toyed with the hem of her hoodie like she wanted to say something more. Then her eyes lit up with a spark of mischief.
“Hey… where’s that boutique you work at, anyway?” she asked casually.
Akito stiffened. “Why?”
“Just curious.” Her grin widened. “You’ve got all this fashion expertise, but I haven’t seen you in action. Maybe next time, I’ll come see for myself.”
His pulse jumped. “Don’t. You’d stand out too much.”
“Relax,” she said, tugging her mask up playfully. “I’m good at blending in.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but she was already waving as she backed into the crowd. “See you soon, Akito~!”
And just like that, she disappeared again.
Akito stood frozen, scowling at the empty space she left behind.
If she really showed up at his job… No. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She doesn't even know where he works
…Right?
-
-
Akito’s day at the boutique had been normal, busy, but routine. The late afternoon rush had just died down, leaving him folding shirts by the front display, the soft hum of background music filling the air.
He liked this part of the job. Organizing shelves, advising customers, keeping everything clean. It was simple, structured. Unlike music, where every performance carried the weight of proving yourself, here he could just… exist.
At least, until the bell above the door chimed.
“Welcome in-” he began automatically, then froze.
Because standing in the entryway, pulling down her mask with a grin, was Airi Momoi.
Akito nearly dropped the shirt in his hands. “Y–You, what—what the hell are you doing here?!”
Airi pressed a finger to her lips, shushing him playfully. “Careful, you’ll blow my cover.”
“You—you can’t just—” He stammered, trying to process. “How did you even find this place?!”
She tilted her head innocently. “A good idol never reveals her secrets.”
Akito gawked at her. “You stalked me.”
“I did not!” she protested, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. “I just… did a little digging. Asked around. It wasn’t that hard, actually.”
Akito groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Unbelievable…”
“Relax,” Airi said cheerfully, stepping further inside. “I wanted to see you in action. You talk such a big game about fashion, I thought—why not?”
He opened his mouth, closed it, then muttered, “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” she said, grinning. “But you’re stuck with me now.”
---
To his horror, she really stayed.
For the next hour, Airi lingered in the boutique like any other customer—browsing racks, asking for advice, occasionally tugging down her mask just enough to flash him a teasing smile. And the worst part was… she didn’t even have to try. She blended in perfectly.
A group of teenage girls passed by, giving her a second glance, but none of them lingered long enough to piece it together. To them, she was just another shopper.
But to Akito? She was a spotlight in the middle of his shift.
“Akito,” she called from across the store, holding up a soft beige jacket. “Would this work for me?”
He sighed, striding over. “Depends. Casual or stage?”
“Stage.”
He eyed the cut, the material. “Too neutral. You’d disappear under lights. You need contrast—something that matches your energy but doesn’t overwhelm.”
Silence for a bit.. Before Airi smiles.
“You’re so different here,” she said, voice softer now. “Confident. Like… you belong.”
His hands stilled. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. “…This is just work.”
“Still,” she said, tilting her head. “It suits you.”
—
When his shift finally ended, Akito found her waiting outside.
“You didn’t have to stay the whole time,” he said, tugging at his jacket.
“I wanted to,” she replied simply, falling into step beside him as they walked. “It was fun. Seeing you like that.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “…It’s not a big deal.”
“It is to me,” she said, her tone sincere now. “You know, most people only see idols as… sparkles and smiles. But there’s so much more behind it. Hard work, pressure, self-doubt. Sometimes I wonder if people ever really see me. But you—”
She glanced at him, eyes bright even in the dim streetlights. “You saw me differently from the start. And today, I got to see you that way, too.”
Akito’s chest tightened. He looked away quickly, heart thundering. “You talk too much.”
Airi laughed, the sound soft and warm. “Maybe. But I mean it.”
They walked in silence for a while, the city buzzing quietly around them. Then Airi spoke again, gentler.
“Akito… why are you so hard on yourself?”
He stiffened. “What?”
“You’re talented. You care. You have an eye for things most people don’t. But every time someone points it out, you act like it’s nothing. Like you’re not enough.”
Her words dug deeper than he wanted them to. He clenched his fists in his pockets. “…Because it never is enough. Not for the people in Vivid, Not for me.”
Airi slowed, her expression softening. “…That’s not true.”
“It is,” he insisted, voice low. “No matter how hard I try, someone’s always better. Stronger. Louder. I’m just… chasing shadows.”
She stopped walking, turning to face him fully. “Then maybe you’ve been looking in the wrong direction.”
He blinked. “Huh?”
Airi stepped closer, her voice steady. “You don’t have to be the best at everything. You don’t have to prove yourself every second. Sometimes, just being you… is enough.”
Akito froze. The sincerity in her eyes, the weight in her words—it was almost too much.
“…You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, though his voice trembled.
She smiled gently. “Maybe. But I believe in you, Akito. More than you think.”
For a moment, the noise of the city faded. It was just the two of them, standing under the streetlights, hearts pounding in sync.
Akito looked at her, really looked at her—the idol, the friend, the girl who somehow saw straight through him.
And for the first time, he realized he was falling.
Not fast, not loud. But undeniably.
Falling for Her.
Or a better way to put it..
Had been.
He tore his gaze away, clearing his throat. “…You should head home. It’s late.”
Airi studied him for a beat longer, then nodded. “Only if you promise to walk me to the station.”
He hesitated, then sighed. “Fine.”
Her smile widened, soft but radiant. “Good. Then it’s a deal.”
As they walked side by side, their shoulders almost brushing, Akito kept his eyes forward. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t steady his heart.
And deep down, he knew things between them would never be the same again.
What starts as chance can become the choice that changes everything.