Chapter Text
At the heart of Japan’s cultural capital stands Hiroto’s, a high-end bar that has greeted its patrons with the same challenge since its founding in 1977: Within these walls, let your heart find its voice. Known as the Cradle of Music, this particular establishment has made a name for itself as a place of not only fine refreshments, but fine entertainment. Many of Japan’s most beloved musicians made a name for themselves within this very bar.
Customers are free to drown themselves in the deceptively simple delights, but if they hold out for when the clock strikes midnight, they are in for a performance they surely won’t regret.
Many seated in the audience have spent up to a few years on a waitlist to make it to the midnight hour-long show. Others had never heard of the place until today, bored by its displays of opulence after a lifetime of experience. Still, as the final hour draws nearer, a palpable energy ripples through the entire building. It was at such a time, on the precipe of an unforgettable night, that the wooden doors welcomed in a pair dressed in matching ensembles of gold and midnight blue.
The second they finally find a high-table seat in the crowded bar, the leaner, meaner of the two asks with the patience of a troll, “Why are we here again?” The one burdened with his company, Hikaru Koragi, swiftly digs her heel into his foot, twisting slightly even as he whines in pain.
“I am not losing my only opportunity to witness the midnight show just because someone would rather go home and sleep!” She hissed at her long time friend and colleague, Karashi Nerimaya.
“Only opportunity? I thought you had larger aspirations than that.” He manages to tease back with confidence while forced to sit in an awkward position, nursing his wounded foot.
“Are you serious?” She asked while knowing he was anything but. “The dome is getting major renovations after this. They won’t be able to host performers for years, even if they want to.” This was indeed dire news for any performer vying for a chance to visit Hiroto’s. In honor of arts appreciation, performers at the aforementioned Kyoto theatre received complimentary reservations. It was how the rakugoka pair found themselves at the bar’s doors after wrapping up their own joint performance just a few hours prior.
While Karashi had immediately rushed back to his hotel room, beleaguered from dealing with large swaths of people all day, Hikaru put her all into the sort of performance that begins off stage, where smiles and business cards are exchanged. By establishing a strong rapport with the venue managers, she was quickly directed on how to access the complimentary table at Hiroto's. To her disdain, however, she would only find out on the day-of that her reservation listed not just herself, but her wet blanket of a colleague.
Make sure everyone in your party arrives, the venue manager reminded her. If someone is missing when you check in, they won’t seat you.
Needless to say, dragging Karashi away from his Nitendo Switch to come along with her took a considerable amount of persuasion (and threats), but nothing she couldn’t handle. A show at Hiroto’s was a once in a lifetime opportunity. She had specifically taken an interest in performing in Kyoto if only to have an opportunity to explore places like this. In the days before her performance, she made the point to visit several venues based in Kyoto, including kabuki and rakugo shows. In exchange for Karashi accompanying her tonight, she would also have to include attending an Eden’s Nova live stage show before leaving Kyoto.
Not that Hikaru isn't proud of her work in Eden’s Nova, but attending the live show for the character you voice on your own time, and not for social media or anything, was just plain embarrassing. She can barely look at Eden’s Nova merchandise when she walks down the street, immediately recalling every cut-out blooper from the recording process. It’s a real shame, since she still loves all the previous iterations of the franchise from her childhood.
In the end, she was exchanging a few hours of minor embarrassment for a few hours of luxury, so she didn’t have much of an issue. Rather, she felt great, she looked great, the appetizer they ordered melted in her mouth, and the decor, besides the ugly mass seated across from her, was absolutely gorgeous. Even Karashi couldn’t help but look around, succumbing to curiosity towards the building’s attempts to preserve its original 70s interior design.
Hikaru worried their drinks wouldn’t make it before the lights went out for the show, but fortunately she soon found herself mindlessly tracing her finger around the rim of her shot glass, content to sit in silence until the show truly began. Hikaru didn’t have a lot of people in her life that she could just exist with like this. While there was often friction between the two rakugoka, it never took long for the dust to settle. More importantly, Karashi never dragged out the need to still keep performing. There’s only one other person she could be her honest self around.
“Have you heard from Jugemu-chan, lately?” Karashi interrupts her musings. At the mere mention of their mutual colleague, her heart embarrassingly starts to kick into gear. Noticing her plight, he lets out a high whistle. “I’ll take that as a no, then.”
Before she can respond, the lights above them go dim. Like a spell, the chatter that had echoed throughout the venue immediately dissolved. After a brief introduction from the sound system, a trio of women could be seen approaching the front of the stage. The center lead stood out with her bold red attire, hair done up at ear length in a dolce vita bob, and, strangely enough, lacking any foot wear.
Karashi leans in to whisper, “Do you think she walked all the way here like that, or did she take off her shoes right before getting on stage?” This time, Hikaru kicks his shin under the table to shut him up.
One of the back-up singers calls out, “How are we doing tonight, Kyoto?” Enthusiastic cheers from the crowd respond back. Then, her colleague next to her repeats, “she said, how are we doing tonight, MI-YA-KO?” At the subtle call to Kyoto’s history as the former capital, the crowd grows even more rowdy.
Finally, the lead singer addresses the crowd for the first time. “Alright, settle down, settle down, we’re here to share a special set with you tonight. Please enjoy!” As the pianist starts to play, the stage lights change to a cool coral bllue. In the back, Hikaru could make out the rest of the band consisting of an electric guitarist, a trumpist, and drummer. From the long, heavy notes ringing from the grand piano, along with the evident brass presence, it seemed they were in for a night of smooth blues.
As the singers continue with the next few verses, Hikaru feels a hand grab at her shoulder with a sudden urgency. When she turns her head, the hand is attached to Karashi, who blankly stares as the lead singer’s voice drops to the next note in a way that seems to dig at the very soul. His eyes widen ever so slightly.
She smiles at the sight, smug that the guy who complained all the way here became wholly enraptured within a few seconds, then turns back to enjoy the rest of the show. What she receives is a stunning march into the height of classical blues and jazz. She can barely make out more than the chorus, but the musical quality to it all is so emotionally potent, she’s still left more than satisfied.
During the transitions to the next piece, the singers begin to introduce themselves and the live band. Unsurprisingly, they’re actually an international talent. The lead singer, it seems, moved to Japan for her parents' work when she was a child. She jokes about how the last thing her mother wanted was to see her become a singer full-time, which only endears Hikaru to the performers more.
She, too, was always seeking out what made her feel fulfilled, even if it seemed unreasonable. Explaining why she wanted to be a rakugoka after it took years for her mom to adjust to her voice acting career was no walk in the park. Even her manager tried to discourage her from pursuing both rakugo and voice acting at the same time.
She understood where they were coming from, but at the time, HIkaru could see no other path forward. She had just suffered a humbling loss to a junior not even out of high school yet. Someone who had the looks, the confidence, and most irritatingly of all, years of training over Hikaru. Akane Osaki.
Akane Osaki.
Akane Osaki.
Hikaru couldn’t rest until she emerged victorious over the girl that ruined her straight shot life trajectory, introducing twists and turns her younger self couldn’t have ever taken into account beforehand.
Every time Hikaru took to the stage, she could feel the ghost of that girl’s presence, calmly watching, evaluating. But even off the stage, Akane never strayed far from her thoughts. More than anything, what she wanted to know is what was it like to break through that rakugo-obsessed girl’s narrow sharp focus. To make her think about Hikaru, and Hikaru alone, the way Hikaru always did about her.
She knew better than to reveal the full brunt of these feelings prematurely . The only person who came close to understanding was, ironically, the guy next to her right now, who had tied for second place with her on that faithful day.
It was as if the three of them were inexplicably tied up in each other’s life paths. Even when Akane was out of the country, she still found herself running into Karashi at a shared time and place again and again. Despite his feigned nonchalance and insistence to make everything he does look easy, he was just as career-climbing obsessed as she was. He understood the pressure, the ghosts, the blood, sweat, and tears. That, after a certain point, it didn’t feel like a choice, but simply an irreplaceable part of life itself. Akane had transformed the very foundation of their lives to take the shape of a tried and true rakugoka.
Maybe, if Hikaru was feeling particularly honest, she’d admit that the first time she felt the rush of a perfect alignment with her audience, she knew she was hooked. Rakugo was an art that rested entirely on the sole artist’s ability to invite the audience into their world. After years of hiding her voice in the recording booth, nothing else could make her feel as seen, nor as heard.
Maybe that was why the last song, of the evening, carrying a distinctly triumphant tone over the previous tracks, hit as hard as it did.
Oh, baby, what you done to me?
You make me feel so good inside
And I just wanna be close to you
You make me feel so alive
You make me feel
You make me feel
You make me feel like a natural woman
The singer’s drawn-out vibrato on the last line reverberated through Hikaru’s chest. Her heart ached with after-pains even as the musicians lingered to thank the audience and venue. Only then does she realize her companion’s hand had not left her shoulder.
Karashi finally peels away his eyes to look back at Hikaru. His expression silently screams with open, unrestrained awe. She can only empathize.
Still struggling to absorb the performance herself, she brushes her hand over the one gripping her shoulder like a lifeline. This action seems to wake Karashi from his stupor. He flinches, then watches her with a discerning eye. Upon finding the answer he wanted, he settles in his seat.
Hikaru wants to say something, anything, but the oppressive nature of their surroundings starts to sink in. Around her are people gleefully continuing on with their night of indulgence as if they didn’t just witness an event in its own right. Truthfully, if this was years ago, she might have been similar. But as a performer herself, having been trained in singing and playing instruments as part of her rakugo education, what she just witnessed was nothing to merely glance over. It went deep and personal, unearthing a soft underbelly to even people like Karashi, who spared no expense to keep things under wraps.
He made no sign of protest when she called out to a server to deliver the check. The second she signed her name on her bill, she stood up, with Karashi wordlessly trailing along.
Stepping out into the crisp open air did wonders to help clear the mind. As they walked side by side, she took note of Karashi’s stride gradually becoming smoother, more natural.
Despite the ungodly hour, Hikaru didn’t quite want to head back home yet, but there weren’t many places still open. She drags Karashi by the elbow into the first chain-restaurant she recognizes: Mob Burger.
“C’mon, I need some carbs after drinking.” Never mind the fact that she has the better alcohol tolerance between the two of them, or that she ate two whole plates of finger food before their drinks could even arrive. He follows her directions without resistance.
Hikaru didn’t even like most of the food at Mob Burger, but Karashi did. She could often see a half-finished box of fries in the corner during their video calls.
After taking a few minutes to order at a kiosk, Karashi floating beside her in a somewhat catatonic state, they found a table to wait for their order to get called out.
Hikaru took a moment to admire the bright lights of the city from the glass walls behind Karashi. Despite the late hour, the streets were still busy with people. She hasn’t stayed up this late since she was in college, and her body was definitely starting to take notice. At least their hotel wasn't far off from here. They’ll probably head back after they finish their food.
An employee calls out her order number from the counter, but before she can make a move to stand, Karashi is already up. “I got it,” he says. No slick smile, no smart-ass comments. He’s a complete model citizen, and it creeps Hikaru out so bad, she's rendered speechless.
When he returns with the food, she decides enough is enough. Going for the gentlest tone she can muster, she asks, “Alright, what gives, Ka-zombie? I thought you liked the performance?”
He scoffs in her face. “Stop trying to play nice. I’m not Akane.”
Hikaru closes her eyes. She reminds herself that, one, she has a grip on her Mob burger, and if she squeezes it any more it’s not going be a burger anymore. Two, he was deflecting like a friendless loser. That only pissed her off even more.
“Try again.”
“Huh?” He stares at her dumbly, french fry still hanging from his mouth.
“I said, try again to give me attitude, and see what happens.” She puts down her food and smiles, eyes narrowing into slits.
“Always resorting to fighting, the two of you are really made for each other--”
“Karashi, out with it, or I’m tossing those 350 yen fries in the fucking trash.” He gasps as if she just revealed a salacious affair. “You wouldn’t. You don’t like to waste food.”
“I don’t like to waste my time, either. And to think, you don’t even see me as worth opening up to…how sad…years spent together, for what?”
Karashi grips the edge of the table. “Could you not? People are gonna think you’re my neglected girlfriend, not my scheming fiend of a friend!”
Her voice perks up. “So you’ll tell your friend what’s got you looking like I stomped on your Switch, and didn't just wine and dine you?”
“Okay, first of all,” he points a fry in her direction, “this hardly counts as dining. I don’t recall you sharing any of those appetizers, either." Hikaru rolls her eyes.
“As for tonight’s show, well. It just wasn’t what I expected.” He rubs a hand behind his neck, then sighs. “Really, someone like Akane is way better suited to this stuff, but she just had to do that festival…”
Truthfully, Hikaru was also disappointed that Akane declined the offer to host this event with them, having already made a commitment to run a booth at a local festival. She had insisted it was really important, and I’ll be watching you guys from the livestream, like that helped. Hikaru just wanted to know what it was like to perform with Akane, rather than against her, but instead she was left with the bozo in front of her.
Karashi, the bastard, had ungratefully experienced her one wish back when they were Zenza. Akane, she could never blame, since they didn’t have each other’s contact information, but Karashi? C’mon, throw a girl a bone! Just the thought of it makes her mad.
“Ow! Again?!” Karashi cries out after she kicks his shin for the second time tonight. “Somebody help! Domestic violence!”
“Now who’s acting like we’re a couple?” She sneers. Karashi grabs his bag of fries and tilts his body away from her.
“Why are you protecting your fries? I don’t want them!”
“You said you were going to toss them out not even a minute ago!” He collapses even more into the chair. It’s comically too small to contain his daddy long-legs stature, but he stubbornly persists. If Hikaru wasn’t so mad right now, she would laugh at how ridiculous he looked.
“For the love of--what are we even fighting about!” Over the course of their verbal mud-slinging, it was all too easy to lose sight of her original intentions.
“Look, I don’t know what happened, but I won’t make ya go to another show if you’re gonna act like this. Thanks for helping me.” She sighs, massaging her temple.“It's been a long night. I’m gonna call a taxi.” For myself goes unsaid. Spending time with Karashi ages her faster than the stress of her college entrance exams.
Now, of all times, he chooses to show remorse, “Hikaru, wait,” he says, alarmingly sober. His limbs laid untangled and squared, mimicking a proper human being. During usual circumstances, the repetant look on his face would have given her a sick satisfaction, but now she didn't even have enough patience to gloat.
“You have until the taxi comes.” In reality, she had yet to press the button to confirm the ride-share request on her phone, but he doesn't need to know that. She sits back down, submerging herself back into this particular late-night hell. Despite everything, Karashi is her colleague. She’d definitely run into him again at work, so it was best not to end the night on a sour note. It sucks, but she’d have to give him some grace. Otherwise, and for no other reason, she would have a fitful sleep.
Plus, she still didn’t get finish her Mob buger.
“I’ve never done this before,” he starts.
“There’s a first time for everything.” Lingering heat from their recent spat manages to leak out. Hikaru considers herself a paradigm of self-control, but she supposes there has to be a few exceptions.
Karashi, to his credit, offers no rebuttal.“I’ve never gone to a live concert before.”
“Like, at all?” He nods, prompting Hikaru to lean back into her chair. She starts to unwrap what remains of her Mob burger.
“My family really hates the arts. Something about someone in the previous generation abandoning her ‘family responsibilities’ to pursue music, I don’t know. I don’t even know her name.”
That’s insane, she wants to say, but her mouth is currently occupied with burger meat.
“In college, I didn’t want to stand around a bunch of screaming drunk people at a venue where I could barely hear the lyrics. I don’t even like crowds, and I didn’t go to bars much until you started dragging me to them. You know the rest.”
Hikaru could not emphasize enough that she really, really didn’t, because, unless they're planning a study event together, she meets with Karashi in-person only every few months. Even with that, she has a sneaking suspicion there weren't that many people Karashi would consistently make time for. They are similar enough that she thinks she gets the big picture.
Still, there would have been a bit less static in her mind if only it wasn't such a late hour. Her head was starting to ache with the effort to make sense of the 2-time rakugo rookie cup champion coming from a family that disparaged the arts as a hole. Then again, it could just mean her scalp needed to be released from her french braid.
“If that’s the case, then how the hell did ya get into comedy in the first place?”
There’s a heavy pause. “Probably for the same reason you became a voice actor.”
In that exact moment, Hikaru struggles to swallow a particularly large chunk lettuce tickling her throat. She blames Karashi, obviously. “Seriously?" She croaks, desperately reaching for something to drink. He hands her his water cup. She nearly finishes it in one gulp. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
Wiping off a drop of water slipping from her chin, she asks, "So you were a bright eyed stand-up comedy nerd? Did you ever have to smuggle DVD sets of manzai duos into your house?” It was a specific question, but it as an oddly specific experience, too. Hikaru had done the same for her favorite anime all the way through high school. It was both for studying voice-acting as well as pure enjoyment.
His face starts to darken. “We’re getting off topic,” words spilling in a rush. Oh, he totally did.
“Interesting.”
“Moving on! Sorry for freaking you out. I thought I had already taken everything into account, but you don't what you don't know, I guess.” He leans his head on his forearm, hand covering half his face. "I’m almost 30, but I’ve missed out on a ton of experiences that would be considered ‘normal’ for everyone else," he says, avoiding eye contact.
Hikaru takes a moment to soak in the words, their implications, their honesty. "Not sure it's possible for you to be normal, anyways. I don't think most twenty-somethings manage to get a table at Hiroto's without relying on Daddy's money." She watches the makings of a smirk stretch from behind his palm.
“Thank you, Karashi." He whips back to her, a question in his eyes. "For telling me.” It was such a mundane, human insecurity. In a world of bright lights, dramatized re-tellings, and audiences dressed to the nines, she found his fears refreshing. Even wise-cracking loud-mouths could feel overwhelmed from a particularly good performance art.
She needed this. Sub-consciously, it was like her brain knew she needed to unwind, to recreate yet another spontaneous after-party with Karashi Sanmeitei. Who else in her life was willing to risk getting their expensive clothes stained with ketchup and grease at a late-night Mob Burger, just so they could process their emotions in peace? Well, Hikaru thought, there was at least one other person, but she wasn’t the one here with her right now. When it came to not just tonight, but all the nights prior, "thank you," wasn't enough.
She wonders what'd he think if she told him that, before getting to know him, she didn't visit izakayas too often, either. She could never risk letting her Tokyo-girl persona slip by getting properly plastered in front of her colleagues. This meant she strictly stayed away from hard liquor, practically assigned to the team who had to wrangle everyone back home. There just wasn't a lot of people in Tokyo that she could let loose with. What a shame, that the conniving fox in front of her would snake his way into her list.
She can't find it in herself to regret any of it. A part of her, she realizes, was even relieved to see Karashi settle back into himself.
"You know what, Hikaru? That music was stupid good, too. Who even sings like that?”
“You mean like Blues music? Yeah, you don't hear it much from the mainstream.”
“What?” He furrows his brow. It's no mirage of confusion, she can discern the difference with him by now. Which could only mean....
Without thinking, Hikaru reaches out to grip his oily, salt-dusted hands. She looks him right in the face, currently sporting a sickly glow thanks to the Mob Burger’s fluorescent lights.
“Karashi. When we make it back to Tokyo, I am going to a Blues concert.” For her next words, Hikaru drops her tone to a deadly degree, “and you are coming with me.”
Karashi looks at her as if she's unhinged, but that's nothing new. “And if I refuse? You’ll, what, kick my other shin?”
She smiles serenely. “Something like that.”
“You are seriously evil.” She takes in his relaxed shoulders, the way he fiddled with his long hair, and knows she made the right call.
There was just one thing still bothering her, though. “Why’d you bring up Akane, earlier? What makes you so sure she’d prefer something like this?”
Karashi juggles his next words in his mouth. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think she’d be able to sit still long enough for a place like Hiroto’s.” Unfortunately, he had a point. “But, it’s like, if Akane had gotten into music, I could see her doing something like that. All quiet at the start, and then it just kinda explodes like they don’t care who can hear it. She did something like that at the Isaka-tei," he chuckles warmly at the memory, "There's also the way the lead singer started improvising, like adding wrinkles to a story. I don’t think she was even saying words for a while there, but I didn’t hate it. ”
….Huh. Hikaru couldn’t believe her own ears.
“What? What is it?” Karashi asks.
“Well, for someone who's never been to a concert, you actually thought pretty deeply about it all? And about Akane, too. I didn’t expect that from you.” I didn’t expect you to actually think that deeply about anyone, she leaves out, but from the way he glares at her, she thinks he can read between the lines.
“Karashi, are you actually a decent guy?”
“Ugh, not you too! I hear enough of that from Jugemu girl. Makes me think twice about getting her a housewarming gift.”
“You already got her something?” In a few weeks, Akane was hosting a party at her apartment to celebrate the end to her three-year-long couch surfing career. She had made it explicitly clear that she didn’t expect gifts, but it was only polite.
“Of course, because unlike some people, I’m actually amazing at giving people gifts.”
When Karashi straightens his back with a stupid grin, like how he does now, she almost misses when he was a zombie. Squinting at the pompous display, she asks, “And what exactly do you think you’re implying?”
Karashi looks her dead in the eyes. “You’re joking, right? Don’t you remember how Master Ikken’s birthday went?”
“How do you know about that?!”
“Was it supposed to be a secret?” Not exactly, but it’s not one of her favorite memories, either.
She had bought him a simple slice of vanilla strawberry cake, since he’s mentioned having a sweet tooth in passing. He even accepted! But soon after, her Master had to excuse himself. Unknown to the both of them, she had actually delivered a strawberry cheesecake to his door. And cream cheese? It does not agree with his digestive track. He had to cancel the show he had scheduled later that day, and even a few days later, because of his own student.
“That was hardly my fault,” she protests, even if she doesn't quite believe it.
“Ok, then what do you have to say about the Eden’s Nova wrap-up party?”
To celebrate the finale of Eden’s Nova, Hikaru volunteered to be in charge of procuring small party favors for everyone in attendance, something small that they could leave at their work desks. She thought ordering keychains in bulk made the perfect gift. But, she made the mistake of submitting the order right before bed. When the shipment arrived, instead of a variety pack of the magical girls and their iconic villains, there was only a box full of the sludge monster they fight off in the first episode. The least appealing of the villain designs.
Hikaru squints in suspicion. “Are you stalking me?” Karashi just howls.
“You know that was,” his voice breaks, “trending online for weeks!” To be fair, Hikaru prides herself in staying off social media. She had to after one too many times searching herself on Twitter.
“Shut up. Shut. Up.” But of course, he’ll never shut up. “Aw, you know it’s the thought that counts,” he mocks with his signature Cheshire grin.
“How about I show you what really counts?” Hikaru reaches her hands out, miming the action of choking him right in the middle of WacDonalds at two in the morning. He laughs even harder.
“That, hoo, you made it look so realistic! Hikaru, what? Please, my stomach!” It figures that the only time Karashi would plead with her was to stop being so unintentionally hilarious.
After what feels like an hour, but was really only about a minute or two, Karashi winds down. “No, but seriously, do you have any idea what to get her?”
She doesn’t. “Of course I do! Who do ya take me for?”
“How nice. I was gonna suggest you get her something related to tonight’s show, but clearly you don’t need it...”
“...That’s not a horrible suggestion,” she concedes. This time, he smiles in a way that’s about five degrees less smug than usual. Then, as if trying to make up for his previous blunder, he cranks up the smugness by ten. “Course’, I doubt anything you pick will be as good as mine, but 2nd place is pretty good, too.”
“Oi, you wanna bet?”
“I mean, if you’re offering,” he shrugs.
“Then it’s decided.” She slams her hands on the table. “I’ll show you just how clueless you can be, musically or otherwise.”
“Right back at’cha.”
A wall of fire encircles the two. The only thing that could douse it now was tried-and-true, uncontested victory.
“Hey, uh,” they both turn in the direction of a nervous employee in uniform. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’re closed.”
Twenty-five minutes later, as they’re approaching the elevator from the hotel lobby, Karashi makes sure to remind her of what he has in store for them tomorrow. “Rest well, Sleeping Beauty. The stage play starts in the evening, so you’ll have plenty of time to stay in.”
“Uh-huh,” she mumbles, punching in her floor number. Without the adrenaline rush to keep her going, she feels like the walking dead. It's as if they've switched places: zombie-Hikaru trailing beside an amused Karashi.
“Hey, Hikaru?”
“Whaattt?” She bemoans. Why did he always open his big mouth at the worst times?
“Thank you. Really.” She can’t recall why he would say such a thing, but she at least knows Karashi could benefit from practicing gratitude more often.
“Sure thing,” she responds, already thinking about her soft pillows, wishing Akane could lay on one of them, and other dream-like scenarios her sleepy mind comes up with.
They stand side by side in blessed silence until the elevator bell dings. Hikaru's on the 5th floor, and Karashi's on the seventh.
Just as she steps through the elevator doors, a voice calls out, “Good night, Hikaru.”
“G'night."