Yoichi stood at the edge of the set, one hand clutching the lapels of his hastily donned robe. The fabric hung open slightly at his chest, revealing a sliver of skin still glistening with fake sweat the makeup artists had applied. His storm-gray eyes tracked Ichika's movements across the artificial beach.
She glowed under the lights.
She tossed a beach ball over her shoulder, laughing with ease. When the photographer called for something more sensual, she transformed instantly, casting a smoldering look over her shoulder.
Yoichi's fingers tightened on his robe.
She has it. That spark. Not the blinding supernova Ai had, Ai's light consumed everything around her, demanded worship from a distance. Ichika was different. Her light felt approachable, touchable. A star still growing brighter with each camera flash.
His fingers drifted to his own lips, tracing them absently.
"Perfect!" The photographer shouted. "Hold that!"
I can still feel it. The warmth. The taste of strawberry lip gloss. Her fingers tangled in my hair...
That was his first kiss.
Well, in this life anyway.
That was the best kiss I've ever had. In either life.
He dropped his hand, frowning.
Why did I kiss her back? It was just a role. A stupid bet. So why did I stop acting? Why did I like it so much? Why does every cell in my body want to do it again?
He watched Ichika laugh at something Hatanaka said. Her hair caught the light when she tossed her head back. That playful air balanced with hidden depths.
Do I even like her like that? Or is this just... proximity?
He shook his head.
Just go with the flow for once.
The thought of "going with the flow" into a potential relationship triggered something deeper. A memory surfaced—his mother, pale and thin in her hospital bed, IV tubes snaking from her arms. Despite her condition, her eyes sparkled with mischief as she spoke to him.
"You better find a nice girl soon, Yoichi," she'd said, poking his arm weakly. "You need to give me lots and lots of grandbabies! I can't let our family line end with my grumpy, handsome son."
She'd been joking... mostly. But beneath the teasing lay a genuine wish. She wanted him to be happy. To have a family.
Why am I thinking about that now? Stop it.
Something ice-cold pressed against his side where the robe gaped open. Yoichi flinched, turning sharply.
Ai stood beside him, holding a bottle of water against his skin. Condensation trickled down its sides. She'd changed from her swimsuit into casual clothes—a simple white top and jeans.
"You looked like you were a million miles away. Thought you could use this."
He took the bottle. Their fingers brushed. .
"Thanks."
Ai tilted her head, sending a cascade of hair spilling over one shoulder. "So," she said, "you know who I am, right?"
Yoichi uncapped the water. "Of course. You're Ai from B-Komachi." He took a sip, then added, "Ichika is a big fan."
"But not you?"
He shrugged. "I've never heard one of your songs." Another sip of water. "So no, not really."
Her eyes widened fractionally.
"Idol or not," Yoichi said, "you're still just a girl. And I'm just a guy. I'd treat you the same no matter what."
"Well," she said, taking a small step closer, "we can't have that." Her smile widened. "I've decided. I'm going to make you my number one fan." She pointed at his chest. "That's my new goal."
Yoichi raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Ai's voice dropped to a playful whisper. "Do you wanna know?"
"Yes."
She took another step toward him. Her scent was sweet, like strawberries. "Do you really wanna know?"
His voice dropped to match hers. "Just tell me."
She glanced around conspiratorially, then gestured for him to lean closer.
"Lean down," she whispered. "I'll tell you. It's a secret."
Yoichi hesitated, then bent forward slightly, bringing his ear near her lips. She leaned in too, her breath warm against his skin. Then, instead of whispering, she pulled back with a dazzling wink.
"Nope! You'll have to wait and see."
She turned on her heel and glided away, her hair bouncing with each step. "Hatanaka-san," she called out, "are we all wrapped up here?"
Yoichi stared after her, water bottle forgotten in his hand.
What just happened?
"She got you too, huh?"
He turned to find Ichigo Saitou standing nearby, hands in his pockets. The man looked perpetually exhausted, but his eyes were sharp and calculating.
"That's her special talent," Ichigo said, watching Ai chat animatedly with Hatanaka.
Yoichi said nothing, taking another sip of water.
"Interesting day," Ichigo continued, his tone casual but his gaze intent. "First time modeling?"
"Why do you care?" Yoichi asked.
Ichigo's mouth quirked up at one corner. "Professional curiosity. You have a certain... camera presence. Raw, but interesting." He pulled a business card from his pocket and held it out.
"If you're ever considering representation, Strawberry Productions has an excellent talent division."
Yoichi stared at the card but didn't take it. "I'm not."
"Take it anyway." Ichigo placed the card on a nearby table. "You never know when opportunities might arise."
Before Yoichi could respond, a commotion from the dressing rooms caught their attention. Ichika emerged, now dressed in her street clothes, her manager Mamoru hovering anxiously around her.
"Absolutely not!" Mamoru was saying. "The contract explicitly states—"
"The contract states I can't date while representing the agency," Ichika cut in. "It says nothing about my personal life outside of modeling jobs."
Mamoru paled. "Ichika-chan, please be reasonable! Your burgeoning career—"
"Is mine to manage," she finished firmly. Her eyes scanned the room before landing on Yoichi. A smile broke across her face, and she headed straight for him, leaving her flustered manager behind.
Yoichi straightened, suddenly aware of how disheveled he must look, still in just a robe.
"Hey." She reached him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. A hint of uncertainty crossed her features. "So... that happened."
"It did," he agreed.
An awkward silence stretched between them. Ichika opened her mouth, closed it, then finally spoke.
"About what you said... that you stopped acting when I—"
"Nakano-san!" Hatanaka called, waving her over. "Come see these preliminary shots! You're absolutely radiant!"
Ichika hesitated, clearly torn between finishing her thought and professional obligation.
"Go," Yoichi said quietly. "We can talk later."
She nodded, relief and something else in her eyes. "Later. Promise me?"
He nodded once.
The changing room was empty when Yoichi finally entered it. His clothes sat neatly folded on a bench—simple dark jeans, a black t-shirt, and a hoodie.
As he changed, he caught his reflection in the mirror. Same face he'd always had. Same eyes. Same permanent scowl. And yet something felt fundamentally different after today.
That kiss had changed something.
Footsteps in the corridor outside made him turn. The door opened to reveal Ichika, a water bottle in hand.
"Thought you might be thirsty," she said, eyes carefully avoiding looking directly at his still-bare chest.
He tugged his shirt on. "Thanks."
She handed him the bottle, then leaned against the doorframe. "So... are we okay?"
"Why wouldn't we be?"
"Because I kissed you in front of twenty people, including the director of a ad campaign?" She ran a hand through her hair.
Yoichi screwed the cap off the water bottle. "You're overthinking it."
She crossed her arms under her breasts. "Then what did you mean when you said you stopped acting when I kissed you?"
He took a long drink, buying time. The truth was, he wasn't entirely sure himself. Everything had happened so fast. His body had reacted before his mind could catch up.
"It meant..." he started, then paused. "It meant I wasn't faking anything."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Look," he continued, "I don't know what this is. Between us. I don't know if it's just the situation or if it's something real. But when you kissed me, I wasn't pretending."
Ichika's cheeks flushed pink. "Oh."
"That's all I meant," he finished, capping the water bottle.
She nodded slowly. "Okay. That's... good to know."
The door behind her opened wider, and Mamoru appeared, looking harried.
"Ichika-chan, the car is waiting."
She sighed. "I'll be right there." To Yoichi, she said, "We should probably head back separately. Give us both time to..." She gestured vaguely.
"Process?" he offered.
"Yeah." She smiled. "That."
After she left, Yoichi gathered his few belongings. As he headed toward the exit, he spotted something on a side table. The Strawberry Production's business card. After a moment's hesitation, he picked it up and slipped it into his pocket.
Outside the studio, the afternoon sun beat down on the busy Tokyo street. Yoichi paused, lifting his face to the warmth. For the first time since his mother died, his chest felt a little lighter.
A memory of strawberry lip gloss. The scent of jasmine from a messy bedroom. The feeling of headphones brushing his shoulder while documentary narration played in the background. The challenge in gradient eyes that saw him as a puzzle to be solved.
Life, somehow, had become complicated in ways he hadn't expected when he first walked through the penthouse door.
He fished his battered phone from his pocket and pulled up the group chat. There was a message from Ichika, sent to everyone:
Bringing dinner home. Movie night tonight? Everyone in?
Responses from the others quickly appeared:
Only if it's a Rom-Com - Nino
I want to watch that new documentary - Miku
YESSSS MOVIE NIGHT!!! I'll make popcorn!!! - Yotsuba
I have studying to do, but I suppose I could join for a while - Itsuki
Yoichi stared at the screen for a long moment, then typed:
I'll be there.
As he slipped his phone back into his pocket, he couldn't help but wonder what Ai had meant. Why was she so determined to make him her fan? Why had that interaction felt like the opening move in a game he didn't know they were playing?
And more importantly, why did the thought of seeing her again send a small thrill down his spine, even as his mind drifted back to the kiss he'd shared with Ichika?
Definitely complicated, he thought, heading toward the nearest train station.
Behind him, a sleek black car pulled away from the curb. Through the tinted window, Ai watched him walk away, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Interesting boy?" Ichigo asked from the front seat.
"Very," Ai replied, her eyes never leaving Yoichi's retreating figure.
"I think I've found my next object."