CHAPTER 21
Tuesday morning arrived quickly.
The pale light of early summer slipped through the curtains, spreading across Kiyomi's bedroom floor in long, quiet streaks. Outside, the neighborhood was already stirring to life, the distant hum of traffic beginning to build along the main road as the city slowly woke.
Kiyomi lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.
Sleep had come only in shallow fragments, never lasting long enough to erase the heavy memories of yesterday.
(It's already June, eh?)
He got up and prepared himself quickly, moving with mechanical focus.
(Focus! I'm sure everything is fine, just like Mom said...)
He took the train as usual. When he arrived at campus earlier than most, he was met with a surprising silence. Not many people looked his way; either they didn't care enough to notice him, or they simply didn't know who he was.
For the first time in twenty-four hours, he felt a genuine sense of safety.
Kiyomi exhaled a long, heavy sigh of relief.
(Keep my head down like usual!)
And just like usual, he entered the classroom early, slipping into a seat in the back row. The room was hollow and silent at first, the rows of empty desks offering a fleeting sense of privacy.
But the silence didn't last.
Not long after, three classmates filtered through the door. Kiyomi recognized them instantly—the same gossipers who had approached him in the library a while back. Their eyes scanned the room with practiced curiosity until one of them locked onto him.
They pointed in his direction, their pace quickening as they headed straight for his row.
"Empty?" Nakamura asked, though his tone suggested the answer didn't really matter.
"Yes," Kiyomi replied, his voice hesitant, a thin thread of old anxiety tightening in his throat.
The three settled around him, effectively boxing him in. Nakamura took the seat to his left, while Matsumoto slid into the chair on his right, leaving Ishikawa to claim the spot beside Matsumoto.
The back row, which usually felt like a hiding place, suddenly felt like a trap.
"Is what they're saying true?" Nakamura suddenly prompted, leaning in.
"About what?" Kiyomi asked, confused, his heart beginning to thud.
"You and Takumi… you know," Matsumoto said. He punctuated the sentence by bringing his index fingers together, tapping them suggestively.
(I wish!)
Kiyomi shook his head frantically, heat rising to his face.
"No… we're just friends…"
"See? I told you guys," Ishikawa said, leaning back with a look of I told you so.
The three immediately broke into an argument, debating back and forth as if Kiyomi wasn't even there.
(Is this what they're here for?)
"Matsumoto-san, are you three doing this for fun?" Kiyomi asked, cutting into the middle of their heated conversation.
All three of them stopped and laughed at the same time, the sound echoing through the empty classroom.
Amused, Matsumoto was the first to speak.
"First of all, we're not doing this for fun," he said, his expression shifting into something more professional. "We're members of the Journalism Club." He paused briefly. "Secondly, you can just call me Teruo."
"Call me Hisao," Nakamura added immediately after.
"Rina here," Ishikawa said, giving a small wave.
"You can call me Kiyomi, then…"
"We already did~" Rina replied with a wink.
They all laughed together, and for the first time that morning, Kiyomi found himself joining in. The tension that had been coiled in his chest since the lobby incident finally began to ease.
"Don't worry, we'll clean your name… but…" Hisao said, his tone turning slightly more serious.
"But?"
"Give us some spicy scoops once in a while," Hisao replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"I owe you guys…" Kiyomi said, feeling a wave of genuine gratitude.
With the deal struck, the three classmates gathered their things and moved to a different row to prepare for the lecture. Kiyomi watched them go, his perspective quietly shifting.
(The gossipers aren't that bad… Wait! No! They're not gossipers—they're journalists! Mhm!)
Just as the lecture was about to start, Takumi finally arrived. He slipped into the seat next to Kiyomi and, surprisingly, actually decided to pay attention. Every time Takumi struggled with something on the board, he leaned over to ask Kiyomi for an explanation.
But Kiyomi's mind wasn't in the classroom.
(Kiyomi didn't attend classes today?)
The memory of Izumi's words—or perhaps the looming threat of his presence—hovered over him. His thoughts drifted aimlessly between the professor's lecture and the shadow of Izumi, unable to anchor themselves in the present.
That day, he had two classes in a row where Izumi was nowhere to be seen. As soon as the second session ended, Kiyomi gathered his things and headed straight for the clubroom. Takumi stayed behind for a moment, finishing a quick word with the professor.
When Kiyomi stepped inside the clubroom, he found Miyu already there, sitting alone in the quiet space.
"Kiyomi-chan," Miyu said, a grin spreading across his face the moment he saw him enter.
Kiyomi smiled and gave a small wave before settling into the seat next to him. The air in the clubroom felt strangely charged, though Miyu didn't immediately bring up the message from the night before.
"Watch this," Miyu said, tilting the screen of his phone so Kiyomi could see.
A video played on LuvTube—a livestream performance of Aurora Prism inside their own agency's studio. The energy was high, but as Kiyomi watched their footwork, his analytical mind couldn't help but notice the flaws.
(They're off-beat once in a while…)
By the next spin, the Kagura twins—Yumi and Yume—lost their synchronization and collided. The performance stumbled midway through the chorus. Instead of panic, the members simply laughed it off, their chemistry shining through even on the small screen.
Miyu and Kiyomi exchanged a soft laugh, blending with the digital roar of the scrolling live chat.
Then Aurora Prism reset. They redid the performance, performing the same song that had won them the Amateur Idol competition weeks ago at Fujimori Grand Park.
(You can do this, Aurora!)
Kiyomi thought, his heart silently rooting for them.
This time, their movements weren't quite as precise as during the high-stakes competition, but the joy on their faces was unmistakable. It was infectious, and Kiyomi couldn't help but smile along.
However, as the song ended, the atmosphere shifted. Their leader, Hoshino Haruka, stepped forward. She leaned closer to the lens, her gaze piercing, seeming to lock directly onto the viewer's soul.
"Cerb-3ros, we accept your challenge!" she declared.
(Challenge? What challenge?)
Kiyomi's stomach dropped.
(Did I miss something?)
"Yeah!" the other members shouted behind her, their faces burning with competitive fire.
The five of them performed one last high-octane dance before the stream cut to black.
Miyu's phone screen went dark, reflecting their faces faintly in the glass. He turned to Kiyomi, his expression unreadable.
"What do you think?"
"I think they're okayish..." Kiyomi offered tentatively.
"I think they're better than us in every way," Miyu countered, his voice flat.
"Why? What makes you think so?"
Miyu didn't answer immediately. He scrubbed back through the livestream, his finger stopping at the mid-point—the moment where the Kagura twins had crashed. He replayed the collision for Kiyomi three times in a row.
"Yeah, and?" Kiyomi asked, confused.
Miyu then tapped the search bar, pulling up the footage from the Fujimori Grand Park Amateur Idol Competition. Together, they rewatched Aurora Prism's winning performance.
(They're really flawless...)
Miyu noticed the adoring expression on Kiyomi's face. He quickly elbowed him, snapping him back to reality.
"Looking at the old video, the twins shouldn't have crashed," Kiyomi noted, finally seeing it. "They didn't make those mistakes before."
"Exactly!" Miyu pointed at the park stage on the screen. "They had plenty of room to maneuver there."
Miyu reopened the recent livestream, focusing on their current agency studio.
(Wait... even in this studio, the twins should have enough room to maneuver. So why did they hit each other?)
"I know what you're thinking," Miyu said, his gaze fixed on the small screen.
"Do you have an idea what's going on?"
"I think they're training for a different stage—one with a much more limited room to maneuver," Miyu explained. "They probably got invited to perform live on TV."
(That makes sense... Wait—)
"Yes, which means..." Miyu trailed off, letting the implication hang.
Kiyomi swallowed hard.
"Based on Haruka's statement, there's a tiny possibility that we might get invited to perform on the same show as them," Miyu finished.
"Probably on the same day, too," Kiyomi guessed.
Before they could continue their talk, Takumi and Rin barged in. The two in the room paused for a fraction of a second, the heavy atmosphere of their technical analysis still clinging to the air.
Then, Miyu moved with lightning speed. He frantically closed his phone, slid it back into his pocket, and lifted his hand with a wide, radiant grin.
"Good day, my people!" Miyu called out to them cheerfully, his voice light and welcoming.
(Wait, what? I didn't know Miyu could change his expression that quickly...)