The elevator hummed as it ascended through the high-rise, carrying four exhausted quintuplets back to their penthouse sanctuary. The digital display ticked upward: 27... 28... 29...
"I still can't believe you bought something for that freeloader." Nino leaned against the elevator wall, her butterfly ribbons slightly askew after a long day of shopping. She shifted her weight to relieve her aching feet. "And what took so long? My feet are killing me. That spice shop was on the other side of the city."
"Aww, I wish you'd told us you were getting him a gift!" Yotsuba bounced on her toes, her energy seemingly limitless even after hours of walking. Her green ribbon bobbed with each movement. "I would have gotten him new running weights! Or maybe a super-cool sweatband!"
Itsuki adjusted her glasses and pressed a hand to her stomach, which gave a soft growl. "Is there any leftover curry? Shopping is surprisingly draining."
Ichika cradled the sleek black guitar case against her chest like a treasured artifact. A small, secretive smile played at the corners of her lips. "He's our younger brother now, Nino. It's called being nice." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Besides, I'm curious to see his face when he opens it."
"He is not our brother," Nino muttered, but the fight had drained from her voice, replaced by simple fatigue.
The elevator chimed softly as they reached the penthouse level. The doors slid open to reveal the hallway leading to their home, dimly lit and silent at this late hour.
Ichika stepped out first, guitar case slung over her shoulder, shopping bags dangling from her other arm. The weight of anticipation made her footsteps light as she approached their door. She fumbled with her keycard, nearly dropping it in her haste.
The penthouse was dark when they entered, illuminated only by the ambient glow of Tokyo's skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"We're home!" Ichika called out, her voice ringing through the quiet space.
No answer came.
The sisters dispersed—Nino making a beeline for the kitchen, muttering about a midnight snack; Itsuki following close behind her; Yotsuba collapsing dramatically onto the sectional sofa with a contented sigh.
Ichika stood in the entryway for a moment, her eyes drawn to the glass staircase leading to the second floor. The guitar case suddenly felt heavier in her hands. Her heart quickened slightly.
"He's probably sleeping," Yotsuba offered, noting Ichika's gaze. "It's pretty late."
"Yeah, probably." Ichika's smile returned. "I'll just leave this in his room. Be right back."
She ascended the stairs, each step making the glass beneath her feet glow with subtle blue light. The hallway upstairs was dark except for a thin sliver of light spilling from beneath Miku's door.
Ichika paused outside Yoichi's room, guitar case clutched against her chest. She had rehearsed this moment in her mind during the entire train ride home—his surprised face, the grudging but genuine smile, maybe even a quiet "thank you."
She knocked softly. "Yoichi-kun? You in there?"
Silence answered her.
She knocked again, a little louder this time. Still nothing.
Frowning slightly, she tried the handle. It turned easily in her hand, and she pushed the door open onto darkness.
"Yoichi?"
Her hand found the light switch, illuminating an empty room. The bed was untouched, its covers smooth and unwrinkled. The nightstand held onlythe photograph and necklace. His backpack leaned against the desk, apparently untouched since morning.
"Hm. Did he go out for a walk? At this hour?" she murmured to herself, setting the guitar case on the floor. "Strange."
Her gaze drifted back to the hallway, where that thin line of light escaped from Miku's door. A thought flickered across her mind, and she immediately dismissed it with a scoff.
"Nah... Miku? The girl who called him 'dangerous' and hides behind her headphones all day?" She shook her head, smiling at the absurdity. "Her idea of a good time is a book about warlords, not... well, not him. They probably haven't spoken two words to each other."
She turned to leave, but something made her pause at the threshold. A tiny instinct whispered that something was off.
"Still... just in case."
Ichika set the guitar case down gently against the wall outside Yoichi's door. She moved silently down the hallway toward Miku's room, her sock-covered feet making no sound on the plush carpet.
The door was cracked open just enough for a sliver of warm light to escape. Ichika told herself she was just checking to see if Miku was awake, maybe ask if she'd seen Yoichi.
She leaned forward, peering through the narrow opening.
What she saw made her breath catch in her throat.
Miku's room was bathed in soft, amber light from paper lanterns strung across the ceiling. The TV screen cast a cool blue glow, frozen on a documentary image of armored samurai on a battlefield.
But it wasn't the décor that stopped Ichika cold.
On the floor, nestled among a pile of cushions, were Miku and Yoichi. Both asleep. Both together.
Miku was curled toward him like a comma, her face peaceful in sleep, free from its usual guarded expression. Her headphones lay forgotten nearby. Her head rested near his thigh, and one hand lay loosely on his leg, just above his knee. Her hair spilled across the cushions, no longer hiding her face.
Yoichi lay on his back, one arm bent under his head as a pillow. His expression was softer than Ichika had ever seen it. But it was his other arm that held Ichika's gaze captive. It wasn't sprawled randomly as one might expect. It curved protectively, his hand resting on Miku's hip, fingers splayed slightly against the soft fabric of her pajama top.
There was an empty tea tray nearby. Books and documents about ancient samurai battles lay scattered around them. A half-eaten package of rice crackers sat within reach.
They looked... comfortable. At ease. As if they'd known each other for years rather than hours.
Ichika couldn't tear her eyes away from Yoichi's hand on Miku's hip.
A completely unfamiliar sensation made her fingers tighten on the doorframe until her knuckles turned white.
Why am I feeling this? The question flashed through her mind, urgent and confused. It's just Miku... quiet, nerdy Miku.
Her chest felt tight, constricted. The sensation was so foreign, so unexpected, that for a moment she couldn't name it.
She took a shaky breath. For a second, she considered making an "accidental" intrusion that would wake them both. She could play it off as looking for Miku, act surprised to find Yoichi there.
What about my gift? What about my plans?
Ichika pulled back, her lips pressed into a thin line. She closed Miku's door silently until it was just a crack again, exactly as she'd found it.
She walked back to Yoichi's empty room, her steps heavier now. The guitar case waited where she'd left it, propped against the wall outside his door. She stared at it for a long moment, then slid down against the opposite wall until she was sitting on the floor.
What just happened?
She'd planned to be the first. The one who broke through his defenses. The one who saw past the angry façade to whatever lay beneath. It was what she was good at. Reading people, finding the cracks, working her way in.
But quiet, reserved Miku had somehow gotten there first.
Ichika hugged her knees to her chest, her eyes never leaving the guitar case. The excitement she'd felt earlier had curdled into something sour and unfamiliar.
"Onee-san?"
Ichika's head snapped up. Yotsuba stood at the top of the stairs, her green ribbon slightly wilted from the long day. Her face was pinched with concern.
"Are you okay? You've been up here a long time."
Ichika's lips curving into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm fine! Just a little tired. Yoichi must have stepped out, so I'll give him his present tomorrow."
Yotsuba tilted her head. "Where would he go this late?"
"Who knows?" Ichika rose to her feet, brushing imaginary dust from her skirt. "Maybe he needed some fresh air."
Yotsuba nodded, accepting this without question. "Nino made hot chocolate. Want some?"
"Sure. I'll be down in a minute."
After Yotsuba bounded back downstairs, Ichika stood alone in the hallway. She glanced once more at Miku's door, then at the guitar case.
With a quick decision, she picked up the case and carried it to her own room. Tomorrow was soon enough. And maybe by then, she'd understand why seeing Yoichi and Miku together made her feel like she'd lost a game she didn't know she was playing.
She placed the guitar carefully in her closet, beneath a pile of scripts. As she closed the door, her phone chimed with a message. Her manager.
Call me first thing tomorrow.
The reminder of tomorrow's opportunity pushed the image of Miku and Yoichi from her mind. Almost. Work. That was something she understood. Something she could control.
Ichika took a deep breath, switched masks once more, and headed downstairs to join her sisters.