The key turned in the lock with a soft click that might as well have been a bell ringing the end of a shift. Ai pushed open the door to her apartment and exhaled.
The heels came off first. Always. She slid her feet into the worn house slippers waiting by the genkan, the ones with the faded cartoon strawberries that Ruby had picked out last year. The transformation started there, at the threshold, with that simple exchange of footwear.
Warm air greeted her, carrying the scent of simmering curry and fabric softener. The television murmured from the living room, some cartoon jingle playing at a volume just loud enough to be cheerful without being obnoxious. Crayon drawings covered the refrigerator in layers, a chaotic gallery of stick figures and lopsided houses.
This was real. Everything outside these walls was performance.
"Welcome home." Miyako glanced up from the stove, wooden spoon in hand. "Dinner's almost ready. How was the session?"
"The high note at the bridge needs work." Ai set her bag down by the door. "But I think we got everything else."
A blur of pink pajamas and golden hair crashed into her legs.
"Mama! You're home!" Ruby wrapped both arms around Ai's knees, nearly toppling her backwards. "We're watching 'Secret Agent Sister!' There's a little girl who can read minds, just like me! And she has a dad who's a spy and a mom who's an assassin and a dog who can see the future!"
Ai ran her fingers through Ruby's soft hair, smoothing down the rebellious cowlick near her crown. "That sounds very exciting."
"It is! You have to watch with us!"
Across the room, Aqua sat on the floor with a picture book open in his lap. He looked up, his blue eyes calm and assessing in a way that always made Ai's chest tighten slightly.
"Welcome back, Ai."
"Thank you, Aqua." She bent down and pressed a kiss to Ruby's forehead before gently extracting herself from the enthusiastic embrace. "Let me just grab something from the kitchen."
The freezer held her salvation. She pulled out the cheap convenience store ice cream, the kind with the garish packaging and the taste that reminded her of being eleven and discovering that frozen sweetness could fill certain types of emptiness. Miyako raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Ai grabbed a spoon and headed for the living room.
Ruby immediately claimed the spot beside her on the sofa, burrowing into Ai's side like a small, warm animal seeking shelter. On screen, a pink-haired child with oversized eyes was dramatically declaring her ability to hear everyone's thoughts while her spy father looked on in oblivious confusion.
The show was a comedy about secrets. A family of liars maintaining world peace through deception. Ai watched with detached amusement, spooning ice cream into her mouth while Ruby provided enthusiastic commentary about every plot development.
"See, Mama? The little girl knows everything but she can't tell anyone because then the family would fall apart!"
"Very clever."
Aqua turned a page in his book without looking up. "Lies can be useful."
Miyako shot him a look from the kitchen doorway but didn't comment.
The ice cream disappeared faster than Ai intended. She set the empty bowl on the low table, licking the last traces of artificial vanilla from her spoon while Ruby giggled at the television. The end credits began to roll, cheerful music accompanying animated characters dancing across the screen.
The warmth was real. The moment existed. But the clock in Ai's head never stopped ticking.
Four hours until dance practice. Three hours if I want to review the new choreography notes first.
Her mind drifted back to the office. To Ichigo's expression when she'd walked in. To Kotaro's manic energy. To the boy sitting across from them with the pen hovering over his contract, bathed in afternoon sunlight like some kind of Renaissance painting.
She pulled out her phone, angling the screen away from Ruby's curious gaze.
What was his name? The pretty one with the blond hair. Kotaro's new discovery.
Sora. That was it. Sora from Hokkaido.
Her thumbs moved across the screen. "Sora Hokkaido idol."
The search results loaded quickly. The first hit was a basic school website profile. Generic photo, the kind taken for student IDs. The face in the picture looked nothing like the boy from Ichigo's office. Same features, technically, but completely different. Flat. Ordinary. A mask of teenage normalcy that didn't match the presence she'd encountered.
This is supposed to be the same person?
The second result caught her attention. A local newspaper article from two weeks ago. The headline read: "Hokkaido's Hidden Gem: Sora Amamoto's Journey to Tokyo."
Hidden gem. The phrase felt like a challenge, like someone throwing down a gauntlet she hadn't asked to pick up.
The article included an embedded video. A final interview before his departure for Tokyo. Ai clicked it, slipping one earbud in while keeping the other ear free. Ruby was still narrating the post-credits bonus scene. Miyako was plating curry in the kitchen. Aqua had moved on to a different book.
The video quality was rough, local news station equipment from years ago. But the boy on screen was undeniable.
He sat in what looked like a school music room, instruments visible in the background. His blond hair caught the fluorescent lighting. The interviewer, an older woman with a warm smile, asked him about his plans.
"So, Sora, you're heading to Tokyo to pursue your dream of becoming an idol. That's very exciting! What inspired this decision?"
His smile came easily. "I've always loved performing. Music is where I feel most myself. Tokyo is where the opportunities are."
"Your teachers tell me you have an exceptional voice. Will you give us a sample?"
"Of course."
He sang. Just a few bars, a cappella, something simple and traditional. The phone's tinny speakers didn't do it justice, but even through the compression and poor audio quality, Ai could hear it. The control. The emotional texture. The way he shaped each note like he was sculpting something precious and fragile.
The interviewer looked genuinely moved. "That was beautiful. Do you have any fears about the industry? It can be quite competitive."
Something flickered across his face. Gone in a heartbeat, replaced by that same easy charm. "I'm not worried about competition. I'm more interested in what I can contribute."
"Such confidence! And what about your family? They must be so proud."
The smile tightened fractionally. "I don't really have family to speak of. But I've had wonderful support from teachers and friends."
Ai watched his micro-expressions. The way his shoulders tensed when the interviewer mentioned family. The slight pause before answering, like he was selecting words from a predetermined script. The careful deflection wrapped in apparent openness.
He's performing. Even here, even in this small-town interview, he's wearing a mask.
She recognized it because she did the same thing every single day.
The video ended. She started it again, studying his mannerisms. The way he tilted his head slightly when listening. The timing of his smiles. The deliberate pauses that made people lean in, made them feel like he was sharing something precious.
He's good. Really good. Natural charisma mixed with technique. But there's something underneath. Something old.
Where did he train? Who taught him to control his presence like that? The article said he's from an orphanage. No formal lessons. Self-taught. That's what Ichigo mentioned. But people don't just naturally develop this level of polish without—
"Ai."
She looked down. Aqua had abandoned his book and was standing beside the sofa, his blue eyes fixed not on the phone screen but on her face.
He pointed one tiny finger at the paused video, at Sora's frozen image mid-smile.
"Who is that?"
"Someone new at the agency. A boy joining the other idol group."
"Is he good?"
Such a simple question. Such a loaded answer.
"Yes." The word came out quietly. Honestly. "He's very good."