The message came just before homeroom.
Lunch on the roof?
No emojis. No exclamation marks.
Just that.
Elliot stared at it longer than he should've, thumb hovering over the keyboard. But there wasn't anything to say except:
Yeah. I'll be there.
⸻
The rooftop was almost exactly the same.
Same rusted fence. Same cracked bench under the overgrown tree. Same faint scent of cafeteria curry from the vents.
But something was different.
Mizuki was already there, sitting on the bench with a convenience store bento unopened in her lap. The wind blew a few loose strands of her hair into her face, but she didn't move to tuck them behind her ear like she usually did. She just sat there, legs crossed, eyes somewhere above the skyline.
Elliot stepped onto the roof quietly.
She didn't look up.
"You're on time," she said.
"You're early."
"Old habit."
He sat next to her. Not too close. Just enough that it didn't feel like a stranger's silence.
For a while, they didn't talk.
They ate. Sort of. Poked at food. Took a few bites. Let the breeze carry most of the weight.
Then Mizuki broke it.
"You remember the first time we sat up here?"
Elliot blinked. "You mean when you stole my sandwich?"
"I mean when you looked like you wanted to throw yourself off the building and I decided you'd be more interesting alive."
He snorted. "You're not wrong."
She smiled faintly. Not her usual grin. Smaller. Tired.
"Back then, you hated everyone. Hated Japan. Hated the weather. Hated me."
"I didn't hate you."
"No, you just didn't know what to do with me."
They both laughed — quietly, honestly.
"You used to talk to me like I was your only lifeline," she said, setting her chopsticks down. "Now you look like you've already learned how to swim."
Elliot didn't answer right away.
"I didn't mean to leave you behind."
"I know."
She turned to face him fully for the first time.
"But you did. Not in a mean way. Not on purpose. Just… you started shining in someone else's orbit. And I think part of me got scared that you didn't need mine anymore."
He wanted to say something. Anything. But his mouth stayed still while his chest clenched.
"Maybe I wasn't your anchor," she said. "Maybe I was your springboard."
"You were more than that," he finally said. "Are."
She shrugged. "Either way… I'm proud of you. Just don't forget me when the lights get louder, okay?"
He nodded.
"I won't."
They sat like that until the bell rang.
Until the world resumed around them.
But something — something between them — had finally been said.
⸻
The Polaris studio was colder than usual.
Ami stood in front of the full-length mirror, her hair tied back, sweat sticking her bangs to her forehead. She'd been rehearsing the same verse for thirty minutes, and nothing sounded right.
The dance was too sharp.
The chorus cracked at the end.
The backup dancers were fine. She wasn't.
Elliot watched from the back wall, a clipboard in hand now — an actual one — with notes on lighting and timing. He looked the part. He even kind of felt like he was getting the part.
But Ami?
She was cracking.
⸻
During break, she sat down beside him on the studio floor and took the water bottle he handed her without a word.
For a while, neither of them said anything.
Then she muttered:
"I feel like I'm shrinking."
"You're not."
"Every step I take toward the spotlight, I feel smaller. Like I have to split myself in two — one version to survive in here, and one to remember who I was out there."
He looked at her, really looked.
There was no eyeliner today. No pop idol persona. Just a tired girl trying not to fold under her own ambition.
He told her about lunch with Mizuki. Not the details. Just that they talked. That it helped.
Ami nodded.
"She's always been your tether, hasn't she?"
"Maybe."
"You ever think about what happens when a tether lets go?"
"Yeah."
"Scary, right?"
He didn't answer.
She stood, brushed off her knees, and walked back to the mirror.
When she sang the next verse, her voice didn't shake. It didn't crack.
It rang.
And Elliot knew — in that moment — she'd carry the next performance on her shoulders whether anyone caught her or not.
⸻
That night, Elliot got two messages.
Mizuki:
Thanks for lunch. It felt like us again.
And then, a minute later — Ami:
Same time tomorrow? I want to try a new bridge section.
He read both.
Didn't reply right away.
Just let them sit there.
Two tethers.
Two songs.
One of them was pulling.