Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The soft hum of traffic outside was barely audible over the low beats of a track pouring from the speakers. The bassline was smooth yet commanding, a pulsing rhythm that seemed to linger in the air. Mikan Sakura leaned against the counter in her small but cozy kitchen, watching the steam curl up from her cup of tea. She wasn’t in a rush tonight. Her shift at the jewelry store had ended hours ago, and the world beyond her apartment felt like a distant hum—a backdrop to the quiet rhythm of her evening.

Kuro Neko’s voice spilled into the room, low and velvety, carrying the kind of tone that made it impossible not to listen. The song had a sensual edge, driven by soft percussion and layered harmonies. There was something magnetic about his music. It wasn’t just the lyrics, which spoke of longing and confidence in equal measure. It was the way his voice seemed to weave through the melody, unrestrained yet precise, as if he was speaking directly into the listener’s ear.

Mikan closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself sink into the sound. This track—’Bambi’—was from his latest album, and it had quickly become her favorite. The beats were sleek and intoxicating, a blend of R&B and something darker, more mysterious. It wasn’t the kind of music you listened to passively; it demanded your attention, pulling you into its rhythm.

She carried her mug into the living room and settled onto the couch with a content sigh. The apartment wasn’t much—a one-bedroom with peeling paint in the hallway and a kitchen that felt like it had been designed for hobbits—but it was hers. She liked the mismatched cushions on the couch, the clutter of books on the coffee table, and the posters on the wall, especially the one of Kuro Neko from his last album tour.

In the poster, he stood beneath a single spotlight, his signature smirk teasing the edge of the frame. His all-black outfit clung to him like a second skin, emphasizing the sharp angles of his figure. Crimson eyes—their intensity exaggerated by the artist—burned with a quiet confidence, daring anyone to look away.

Her phone buzzed on the armrest, snapping her out of her thoughts. She reached for it lazily, expecting another message from her best friend, Hotaru, probably sending some meme or asking if she wanted to join her for dinner this weekend. Instead, it was a notification from Kuro Neko’s fan page.

*Special announcement: New tour dates released! Exclusive Osaka performance one month from today!*

Mikan sat up straighter, her heart skipping a beat. She clicked on the link without hesitation, scanning the details. The venue wasn’t far—a small, intimate club downtown. Tickets were limited, and sales started tomorrow morning.

Her fingers hovered over her phone, adrenaline kicking in. This wasn’t just any performance. It was a chance to see him up close, to hear his voice live, to watch the way he moved. Because that was the thing about Kuro Neko’s music—it wasn’t just about the sound. It was the way he owned the stage, every movement deliberate yet fluid, as if the music coursed through him.

Mikan wasn’t one of those obsessive fans who chased after autographs or camped outside hotels. No, her admiration was quieter. Personal. She loved the way his music seemed to reach her on some level she couldn’t quite explain, as if the lyrics were written just for her.

She double-checked the notification, confirming the time tickets would go on sale. Tomorrow morning at ten. It felt like the universe was giving her a month-long gift to anticipate and plan. Her mind immediately jumped ahead: what to wear, who she might ask to come with her, how early she’d need to get to the venue to secure a good spot.

Leaning back against the cushions, she stared at the poster again. Kuro Neko’s crimson eyes seemed to catch the light from the lamp, almost as if he were staring back at her. She shook her head with a soft laugh, setting her phone down and pulling the blanket over her legs.

“This is going to be amazing,” she murmured to no one in particular.

The music played on in the background, smooth and steady, as the night settled in around her.

The soft buzz of Mikan’s alarm clock jolted her out of sleep, its faint chime blending with the early sunlight streaming through her curtains. For a moment, she lay still, blinking at the ceiling as fragments of her dream slipped away. It had been one of those vivid ones—flickering stage lights, a familiar voice, and a sense of electricity in the air.

Her hand instinctively reached for her phone on the bedside table. 8:30 a.m. Today was Monday, her day off, and she had no plans except for one very important task.

Sliding out of bed, she wrapped herself in a loose cardigan and shuffled to the kitchen. The ritual of making coffee steadied her excitement, but even as she waited for the machine to sputter to life, her thoughts drifted back to the notification from last night.

She pulled up the fan page on her phone, double-checking the time. *Tickets go live at 10:00 a.m.* Her heart gave a small flutter. It wasn’t just about seeing him perform—it was about experiencing something she knew would be unforgettable.

By the time her coffee was ready, she’d settled on the couch with her laptop. The website was already open, the concert date circled in red.

“Okay, no pressure,” she muttered to herself, taking a sip of her coffee.

As the minutes ticked closer, she flicked through Kuro Neko’s discography, letting the music wash over her. His songs were perfect for mornings like this—slow, sultry, and rich with an undercurrent of energy. Each track was a reminder of why she admired him.

At exactly 10:00 a.m., her fingers moved swiftly, entering her details and selecting two seats. The website was slow, probably overloaded with fans doing the exact same thing, but Mikan was patient. When the confirmation page finally loaded, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

*Congratulations! Your tickets are confirmed.*

She leaned back, a wide grin spreading across her face. It was official—one month from now, she’d be standing in the crowd, watching him perform live.

The rest of the day passed in a blissful haze. Mikan busied herself cleaning her apartment and reorganizing her small but cherished record collection. The poster of Kuro Neko on her wall seemed to watch over her every move, his crimson eyes glinting in the late afternoon light.

By the time the sun dipped low in the sky, there was a knock on her door. She knew exactly who it was before she even opened it.

“Hi,” Hotaru greeted dryly, holding up a bag of groceries. “Thought I’d bring dinner since you’re probably too busy watching Kuro Neko’s videos to cook anything.”

Mikan rolled her eyes, stepping aside to let her friend in. Hotaru lived just across the corridor, a convenience that had turned their friendship into an almost sibling-like bond.

“For your information, I did cook,” Mikan said, gesturing toward the kitchen. “There’s miso soup, rice, and karaage chicken waiting.”

Hotaru sniffed the air approvingly. “You made karaage? Something tells me you’re in a good mood.”

Mikan couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she followed Hotaru into the kitchen. “I got the ticket.”

Hotaru paused, setting the groceries down on the counter. “Let me guess: Kuro Neko?”

“Obviously.”

Hotaru shook her head with a smirk. “I’m happy for you, I guess. But you’re going to be unbearable for the next month, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” Mikan admitted, laughing.

They spent the evening eating and catching up, the kind of effortless companionship that came from years of knowing each other. As Hotaru picked at the last of the karaage, she leaned back and gave Mikan a sly look.

Hotaru set her chopsticks down with a deliberate motion and fixed Mikan with a look that was equal parts curious and teasing.

“So,” she began, her tone light but probing, “are you ever going to tell me what the deal is with your Kuro Neko obsession?”

Mikan raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “Obsession is a strong word.”

Hotaru smirked. “Oh, come on. You have his albums, you watch his concerts online, and now you’re practically counting down the seconds until your first concert. What’s the appeal? His voice, his lyrics, or is it just that mysterious, brooding persona?”

Mikan hesitated, fiddling with her glass. She wasn’t embarrassed exactly, but putting her feelings into words wasn’t easy.

“It’s… everything,” she admitted after a moment. “I mean, his voice is incredible. It’s smooth and powerful, but there’s this edge to it, like he’s carrying something heavy under all that cool. And his music? It’s not just songs—they’re stories. They make you feel things.”

Hotaru gave her a skeptical look. “Things like what? Lust?”

Mikan groaned, throwing a napkin at her. “Stop! You’re impossible.”

Hotaru caught the napkin with ease, laughing. “I’m just saying, it’s obvious. The man oozes sex appeal, and don’t pretend you haven’t noticed.”

“I’m a fan of his music, not his—” Mikan’s words trailed off when she saw Hotaru’s arched eyebrow. “Okay, fine. I’m not blind. He’s attractive, sure. But that’s not the point.”

“Uh-huh.” Hotaru leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “So, what would you do if you ever met him? Like, actually met him?”

Mikan blinked, the question catching her off guard. “I don’t know. Probably nothing? What do you even say to someone like that? ‘Hi, I love your music, and also I accidentally cried to your ballad last week while eating ramen’?”

Hotaru burst out laughing, nearly knocking over her glass. “Oh, please, promise me you’ll say exactly that if you ever get the chance.”

“Not a chance.” Mikan rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile.

They moved on to lighter topics after that—work gossip, Hotaru’s new plants that were somehow still alive despite her infamous black thumb—but the question lingered in the back of Mikan’s mind. What would she do if she met Kuro Neko?

It wasn’t like she hadn’t imagined it before, in those idle moments when his music played in her headphones and her thoughts wandered. But reality? That was a different story. People like him didn’t just walk into the lives of people like her.

As Hotaru left for the night, waving goodbye from her apartment door across the hall, Mikan’s mind was still buzzing with the idea. She told herself it was silly, just a fan’s daydream, nothing more.

But as she climbed into bed, her phone lighting up briefly with a notification from the fan page, the thought returned with a quiet insistence.

What if?

Tuesday morning arrived with the usual buzz of the city waking up, and Mikan found herself back in the familiar rhythm of her routine. She stepped off the station, the sound of her boots clicking against the platform blending with the hum of commuter chatter and the occasional chime of station announcements. The streets were already alive, storefronts opening their shutters and coffee shops spilling warm, caffeinated scents onto the sidewalks.

Mikan loved this part of her day—the short walk from the station to the jewelry boutique where she worked. The shop was nestled on a quieter side street, its elegant glass façade and minimalist display drawing in a mix of locals and tourists.

As she pushed open the door, the tiny bell above it jingled, signaling her arrival.

“Morning!” she called, slipping off her coat and hanging it behind the counter.

Ichigo, her colleague, peeked out from the back office with a grin. She was a few years younger than Mikan, with dark red hair tied into two loose buns and an energy that somehow managed to be both chaotic and endearing.

“Morning, boss,” Ichigo teased, though Mikan was technically just a senior employee, not her manager. “Ready for another thrilling day of trying to convince people they need diamond earrings?”

Mikan laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You make it sound so glamorous. Did you finish setting up the new display?”

“Of course,” Ichigo said, leaning on the counter. “But I have a bone to pick with you.”

Mikan raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What did I do this time?”

Ichigo gestured dramatically. “You’ve been humming the same song last week. What is it?”

Mikan paused, realizing she’d unconsciously been humming the melody from one of Kuro Neko’s tracks—something sultry and smooth, with a bassline that lingered in your chest.

“It’s a song by Kuro Neko,” she said casually, pulling out the day’s ledger.

“Who?” Ichigo frowned, tilting her head.

Mikan stopped mid-page flip, looking up in disbelief. “You’re kidding. You don’t know Kuro Neko?”

Ichigo shrugged. “Is it a band? A DJ? Enlighten me.”

Mikan stared at her, genuinely stunned. “He’s a solo artist. R&B, kind of jazzy, super popular.”

“R&B, huh?” Ichigo looked skeptical. “Not really my vibe, but I guess I could check him out. What’s so great about him?”

Mikan leaned against the counter, the familiar enthusiasm bubbling up. “His voice, for one. And his lyrics? They hit you right in the feels. Plus, his stage presence is unreal.”

Ichigo smirked. “Sounds like someone’s got a crush.”

Mikan groaned, waving her off. “It’s not like that. I just really admire his work”

“Sure, sure,” Ichigo teased, but her grin was good-natured. “So, are you going to drag me to a concert or what?”

“Funny you should mention that,” Mikan said, a smile tugging at her lips. “I just got tickets for his show next month.”

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. “And you didn’t invite me? Rude.”

“You literally didn’t know who he was five seconds ago!” Mikan shot back, laughing.

Their banter continued as they prepared the store for the day, slipping into the easy rhythm of coworkers who knew each other well. By the time the first customers walked through the door, Mikan was already feeling lighter, her earlier excitement about the concert bubbling back to the surface.

The weeks seemed to stretch on forever as Mikan waited for the concert. Every day, she would check her phone for updates, hoping to catch a glimpse of any behind-the-scenes content from Kuro Neko or maybe even a hint of something special for his upcoming performance. It was hard not to get swept up in the excitement. The concert felt like it was going to be a life-changing event, something more than just an evening of music.

Mikan had spent hours thinking about what she would wear, every little detail considered. Her closet was filled with clothes she loved, but none of them felt quite right for this occasion. She couldn’t just throw on anything. This was Kuro Neko, the artist whose music had gotten her through so many late nights and quiet mornings. She needed to make an impression, at least on herself.

The first dilemma: what to wear. She wanted something that was both stylish and comfortable, something that wouldn’t scream “trying too hard” but still made her feel special. A dress, maybe? No, it was too dressy. She had a cute, form-fitting black top with delicate lace details and a pair of high-waisted leather pants that she’d been dying to wear. That might work. It was simple but edgy, just like Kuro Neko’s music—smooth, with a bit of bite.

But the outfit was only part of the puzzle. Her nails had to be perfect. She spent a whole evening scrolling through Pinterest, searching for designs that felt chic but not overdone. A simple deep red—dark enough to be sultry, but not so bold that it clashed with her outfit. Yes, she decided. Classic but understated, just like the concert she was preparing for.

Then, of course, there was her hair. Mikan considered wearing it loose, but she didn’t want it to get in her way while she was lost in the music, jumping around with everyone else. Maybe a messy bun? No, that was too casual. She ended up opting for a sleek ponytail, high and tight, with a few loose strands framing her face. It would keep her cool and comfortable while still giving her that polished look.

As the days counted down, the anticipation grew, but so did the little bits of doubt. She wondered what it would be like to actually see Kuro Neko in person—if he would look the same as he did in all the new photos, if his presence would have the same magnetic pull that his music did. She daydreamed about the possibility of catching his eye, if only for a moment, and whether she would even be able to speak if he did.

One evening, as she was testing out different eyeliner looks in the mirror, her phone buzzed. Hotaru’s name flashed on the screen.

*Can’t believe the concert is almost here. You ready to be obsessed with him in person?*

Mikan laughed to herself, typing out a quick reply.

*I don’t think I could be more ready. If I die from excitement, I’m blaming you.*

Hotaru’s response was almost instant.

*Don’t die. I need you alive for gossip after the show.*

Mikan shook her head, smiling. She couldn’t wait to share every detail of the concert with Hotaru, even if it was just over text. But something told her that the experience would be one she’d remember forever, and she wanted to soak up every moment.

As the final days ticked by, Mikan felt herself growing more and more anxious. She spent hours on the phone with Hotaru, discussing last-minute details, and in the quiet moments before bed, she would picture the night in her mind. The lights. The music. The crowd. And him—Kuro Neko, performing right in front of her.

She let out a breath, trying to calm her nerves. She had no idea what to expect, but one thing was for sure: this would be a night to remember.

The day of the concert finally arrived, and Mikan could hardly contain her excitement. She woke up early, even though she didn’t have to, just to have enough time to prepare without rushing. The morning light poured through her window as she stood in front of her closet, the weight of the decision hanging over her. The outfit she’d chosen for weeks was now hanging, ready for the evening, but she still couldn’t shake off the nerves that fluttered in her stomach. It was like waiting for something huge, something she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for, but knew she needed.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Hotaru.

*Are you awake? You’d better be starting your glam process because you know I’m going full-on.*

Mikan chuckled, shaking her head. Hotaru was just as excited about the night as she was. In fact, Hotaru had almost been more enthusiastic about the concert than Mikan. She had insisted on coming with her, as Mikan had bought two tickets. Of course, Mikan couldn’t refuse; the thought of Hotaru being there beside her made the night feel even more special.

*I’m awake, and I’m starting my prep. Don't worry, I won’t be late.*

A few minutes later, Hotaru texted back, a stream of laughing emojis. She had no intentions of letting Mikan take longer than she needed to. Mikan smiled to herself before heading to the bathroom.

A few hours later, Mikan stood in front of her full-length mirror, admiring the finished look. Her brown hair was tied into a sleek ponytail, and her makeup was bold but not overdone—just enough to give her a bit of extra confidence. The deep red nail polish she’d chosen earlier gleamed in the light, matching the sultry vibe of her outfit. She had on a form-fitting black lace top that hugged her curves, paired with high-waisted leather pants that made her feel fierce. Her black ankle boots added the perfect touch—elegant but comfortable for a night of standing and dancing.

Hotaru burst into the apartment without knocking, always the same energetic whirlwind.

“Okay, wow. You look like you’re about to meet him in person or something,” Hotaru grinned, her eyes wide with excitement. “You’re going to knock him out. I mean, I thought you were just going for the concert, but now I’m worried he won’t be able to focus on the show because of you.”

Mikan laughed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t start with that. I'm just trying to look good for myself, okay? But thank you for the hype.”

Hotaru, who had already been getting ready in her own space, was now standing beside Mikan in her own stylish ensemble—a short, leather jacket over a tight red dress that clung to her body in all the right ways. Her nails were freshly painted, and her short hair was let down, the perfect mix of rock chic and laid-back cool.

“I’m honestly so ready for this,” Hotaru said, bouncing on her heels. “I’ve never seen you this excited about anything. Even your ex didn’t get this level of prep.”

Mikan froze for a moment, a slight discomfort creeping in at the mention of her ex. She quickly brushed it off, pushing the thought out of her mind. This wasn’t about him. It was about Kuro Neko, the music, the night ahead.

“Yeah, well… this is different,” Mikan said, looking back at her reflection. “This is for me.”

With everything set, Mikan grabbed her phone and bag, heading out the door with Hotaru following closely behind. The concert venue wasn’t far from their building, but the excitement in the air made it feel like the journey would take forever. As they walked through the bustling streets of Osaka, they talked and laughed, exchanging excited theories about the concert.

When they arrived, the line was already starting to form outside the venue. A wave of anticipation hit Mikan as she looked at the excited faces around her—people of all ages, some wearing Kuro Neko merchandise, others in casual outfits, but all sharing the same buzz of excitement that Mikan could feel in her bones.

“I can't believe we're actually here,” Mikan said, her voice full of awe.

Hotaru grinned, checking her phone. “We’ve got about two hours before the show starts, right? Let’s grab a drink, then head inside when the doors open.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Mikan could hardly stand still as the minutes ticked by. The night was finally here.

She felt a rush of adrenaline when the doors opened, and they stepped inside the venue. The lights were dim, and the buzz of the crowd grew louder as they found their spots near the front. The stage was lit up with soft purple and blue hues, and a giant screen in the background showed looping clips of Kuro Neko in action. She couldn’t believe she was here, so close to the man whose music had been a constant in her life.

Hotaru leaned in with a grin. “Are you ready to scream your lungs out?”

Mikan smiled, her heart racing. “I think I might scream so loud I lose my voice. But I don’t care. Let’s do this.”

And with that, they stood together, ready for the night to begin.

The lights dimmed suddenly, and the crowd's collective energy shifted, a ripple of excitement coursing through the sea of people. Mikan's heart pounded in her chest as the countdown clock appeared on the big screen. She could feel the air grow thicker with anticipation. The venue was buzzing, the tension almost electric as everyone murmured in excitement.

“It’s starting,” Hotaru whispered, her voice barely audible over the murmurs.

Mikan didn’t respond. She was too busy trying to catch her breath, trying to calm her racing pulse. This wasn’t just a concert. This was Kuro Neko—the artist whose smooth, sensual music had captivated her, whose lyrics had somehow always seemed to mirror her own emotions. It felt surreal to be here, in this crowd, waiting for him to walk out on that stage.

And then, the lights went out completely.

For a brief moment, there was utter silence—an aching, collective breath held by the audience, all of them waiting for that one moment. And then, the unmistakable sound of a low, bass-heavy intro filled the room, sending shivers down Mikan’s spine. The crowd went wild as the first few notes of Kuro Neko’s signature track filled the space, and there, emerging from the shadows, was the man himself.

Kuro Neko.

The lights flashed on in an instant, illuminating him, and Mikan almost forgot to breathe. He stood there in a sleek, black leather jacket, his signature dark hair tousled just enough to look effortlessly cool. His eyes, sharp and intense under the stage lights, scanned the crowd, and Mikan felt as if time had frozen for a second. Every part of her body seemed to react all at once—her heart racing, her breath catching, her skin tingling with excitement.

He looked... perfect.

His presence was magnetic, and even though Mikan was just another face in the crowd, she felt like the only one in the room. His deep, soulful voice cut through the music, effortlessly commanding the space.

“Are you ready to feel the vibe tonight?” Kuro Neko’s voice boomed, a slight rasp in it that made Mikan’s knees weak.

The crowd screamed in response, a wave of adoration washing over the venue. Mikan’s hands were shaking, her breath catching in her throat. Hotaru was beside her, bouncing with excitement, but Mikan was completely entranced by him—by the way he moved, by the way he held himself on stage with such confidence. His voice wrapped around her, the R&B and jazz-infused beats pulsing in her veins.

Kuro Neko’s performance was beyond anything Mikan had imagined. The way his body swayed with the music, how his voice seemed to float effortlessly over every note—it was hypnotic. The lights danced around him, setting the perfect atmosphere. Mikan had seen clips of his performances online, but this? This was an experience. His energy was intoxicating, and it seemed like every movement, every word he sang, was directed straight at her.

The audience was completely hooked, shouting lyrics in unison, singing along, letting the music take them all into another world. Mikan was no exception. She danced and sang along, her voice lost in the sea of others, but it didn’t matter. She was here, in this moment, with him.

As the song came to an end, the crowd erupted into applause, cheering for more. Kuro Neko stood there for a moment, soaking it all in, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His gaze shifted across the audience again, and for a fleeting moment, Mikan swore his eyes met hers. The intensity of that look, even if just for a second, made her stomach flip.

He turned, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “You’re all incredible.” His voice was low and sincere, and the room quieted just enough to hear him. “Let’s make tonight unforgettable.”

The crowd roared back at him, and Mikan found herself yelling, her voice merging with the others in a unified chorus. This was everything she’d dreamed of—and more.

Hotaru was still by her side, singing and filming, just as excited as Mikan was. They laughed, their energy matching the music, and for a few moments, the world outside the venue didn’t matter. All that existed was the music, the atmosphere, and the man on stage who had brought them all together.

The night stretched on, each song more intoxicating than the last. Mikan could barely believe it was happening. She’d been waiting for this for so long, and now that it was finally here, it felt like she was living in a dream. But every time Kuro Neko moved, every note that escaped his lips, it was real.

And just as the final song neared, the music slowed down, the tempo softening into something more sensual, intimate. The lights dimmed, and the mood shifted.

Mikan’s pulse quickened again, the atmosphere between the crowd and the stage charged with anticipation.

Hotaru leaned in, her voice nearly drowned out by the music. “You okay?”

Mikan turned to her, her face flushed with excitement. “This is insane, Hotaru. I didn’t think I could ever feel like this.”

Hotaru laughed. “I think you're in love, Mikan.”

Mikan’s heart skipped a beat. Was she? Could she be? Maybe she wasn’t in love with the man himself, but the experience, the feeling he gave her—it was enough to make her feel like she was floating. But one thing was for sure—she had never been so captivated by anything in her life.

The last notes of the song played out, and Kuro Neko stood tall, his hands raised in appreciation. The crowd was on its feet, clapping, cheering, and whistling.

“Thank you, everyone,” Kuro Neko said, his voice softer now, almost intimate. “Tonight was unforgettable. See you again, Osaka !”

The lights flashed one last time, and then it was over. The crowd went wild, the applause deafening, but Mikan was left standing in the middle of it all, heart racing, breathless. She didn’t want the night to end.

Chapter Text

As the lights came back up, signaling the end of the concert, the crowd slowly began to filter out of the venue, still buzzing with excitement. Mikan’s heart was still pounding, the adrenaline keeping her in a daze as she and Hotaru made their way through the throng of people.

“That was incredible,” Mikan said, her voice a mix of disbelief and excitement. She glanced over at Hotaru, who was grinning from ear to ear, clearly just as caught up in the post-concert high.

“Of course!” Hotaru laughed, nudging her playfully. “You were all over him, Mikan. You didn’t even try to hide it.”

Mikan felt her cheeks heat up. She had definitely been caught staring, but she couldn’t help it. Kuro Neko had such an undeniable presence. His performance, his energy—it was like nothing she had ever experienced before.

As they walked toward the exit, Mikan’s mind wandered back to the performance. His voice had wrapped around her, each note sinking deep into her soul. She had sung along, screamed, laughed, and danced as if the world didn’t exist outside that venue. It was as if she had been in her own little world, floating with the music, with him.

But as they stepped outside into the cool night air, reality slowly started to creep back in. The lights of the city flickered in the distance, the streets filled with people talking and laughing as they too made their way home. Mikan took a deep breath, the excitement still buzzing in her veins, but now a little sadness tugged at her chest. The night was over. Kuro Neko was gone, back to wherever he lived, and she was just another fan in the crowd.

“I feel like I’m floating,” Mikan confessed, glancing at Hotaru, who was walking beside her, still as energetic as ever. “Like I’ve just experienced something magical. I don’t want it to end.”

Hotaru grinned knowingly. “Well, that’s the thing about concerts, isn’t it? You get so caught up in it all that you don’t want to come back to real life.” She slung her arm around Mikan’s shoulder. “But hey, at least we’ve got the memories. And we’ve still got his music to keep the vibe going.”

Mikan smiled, but there was something more to it. The way Kuro Neko had looked at the crowd—there had been moments when their eyes met. It was brief, but it felt like something. Maybe it was nothing more than a fleeting glance, but it had made her heart race in a way she couldn’t explain.

“Do you think he notices fans like me?” Mikan asked, half to herself.

Hotaru raised an eyebrow. “Girl, you’re definitely not the only one who feels that way. But, you never know… maybe he does.”

They reached the entrance to the subway station, and Mikan paused. The crowd had thinned out, but the night still felt alive with the afterglow of the concert. Hotaru gave her a playful shove, and Mikan snapped out of her thoughts.

“Come on, we’ve got a late-night snack to catch before we head home,” Hotaru said, pulling her toward a nearby ramen shop. “You’re not going to sit here thinking about Kuro Neko all night, are you?”

Mikan chuckled, though her mind was still partly on the concert, and more specifically, the way Kuro Neko’s voice had made her feel. She’d never been one to chase after celebrities or make a big deal out of fandoms, but this... this was different. The music, the vibe, the man himself—it was all just too captivating to ignore.

“Fine, fine,” Mikan said, her smile returning as they walked into the warm, steamy shop. "But, Hotaru, promise me we’ll go to his next concert together."

Hotaru nodded, already scanning the menu. “You bet. We’ll get tickets as soon as they go on sale. Next time, we’re going to be even closer to the stage!”

The conversation shifted back to the usual banter as they sat down to eat, but Mikan’s thoughts kept drifting back to Kuro Neko. To his voice, to the way he owned the stage, to the fleeting moments when he’d looked directly at her. Maybe it was all just part of the show, maybe it meant nothing at all—but for a moment, Mikan had felt like she wasn’t just another face in the crowd.

The next few days after the concert passed by in a blur of routine. Mikan found herself getting back into the swing of things—her job at the jewelry store, eating with Hotaru, and catching up on her favorite dramas. The excitement of the concert still lingered, but she tried to focus on the more practical side of her life.

Tuesday morning, Mikan was running a bit late for work. Her alarm had gone off late, and she rushed around the apartment, pulling her hair into a quick ponytail while trying to get breakfast ready. She had barely managed to grab her bag and coat before dashing out the door.

As she arrived at the store, she was greeted by Ichigo, her cheerful coworker who was already standing behind the counter, humming to a song on the radio. Ichigo always had a way of making the shop feel like home, no matter how busy it got.

“Morning, Mikan!” Ichigo called out as Mikan walked in. “You look like you just ran a marathon.”

Mikan laughed, brushing her hair out of her face. “Yeah, I swear my alarm clock is conspiring against me these days. But I made it, so we’re good.” She quickly dropped her things in the staff room and went over to join Ichigo behind the counter.

“Good thing you’re always so efficient even when you’re late,” Ichigo teased. “I still don’t get how you can handle it all—running around like a whirlwind, but always so... put together.”

Mikan chuckled, adjusting a display of necklaces on the counter. “It’s all about multitasking,” she said, glancing over at Ichigo. “But I don’t know how to 'put together'—I’m just trying to get through the day.”

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. “Hey, don’t sell yourself short. You know how to handle customers better than anyone else here.”

Mikan smiled, grateful for Ichigo’s praise. She didn’t think of herself as particularly exceptional, but the compliment felt nice. Working in a boutique like this meant she got to meet all kinds of people, and she had learned to be patient with customers, whether they were there to splurge on something special or just browsing for fun.

The day passed quickly. Mikan spent her lunch break organizing some new stock, taking inventory of items that needed restocking and helping customers choose jewelry for upcoming events. She had a knack for helping people find the perfect piece, whether it was for a wedding, a birthday or just because.

Her mind occasionally drifted back to the concert, but she didn’t let herself linger on thoughts of Kuro Neko for too long. She had a job to do, and she was good at it. That’s what mattered most right now.

By the time her shift ended, she was exhausted but content. She hadn’t realized how tired she was until the moment she stepped outside into the cool evening air. As she walked down the street, her phone buzzed with a message from Hotaru: “How about dinner tonight? I’m craving something spicy.”

Mikan grinned at the message, typing a quick reply: “You read my mind. I’ll grab the food—see you at 7 p.m.”

Hotaru was always up for trying new restaurants or cooking something together at her place. Tonight, Mikan figured they could explore a new spicy chicken spot that had opened up nearby. She loved the idea of winding down with her best friend, talking about everything and nothing at all. The world felt a little more manageable with Hotaru by her side.

As Mikan walked home, her thoughts turned to other things. Lately, she had been thinking more about where her life was heading. It was easy to get caught up in the day-to-day—work, socializing, and everything in between—but there was a part of her that longed for something new. Something more.

Maybe it was time to think about her future outside of the routine she had built. A new challenge, perhaps. Or maybe even a change of scenery. She hadn’t exactly been unhappy with her life, but she was beginning to wonder if there was more she could do with it.

The thought lingered in the back of her mind as she stepped into her apartment, feeling the familiar comfort of her space. But as she started to prepare for her dinner with Hotaru, she pushed those bigger questions aside, at least for tonight.

The soft clink of pots and pans echoed in Mikan’s kitchen as she prepared the table, setting out two bowls, chopsticks, and a bottle of cold sake. Hotaru would be here any minute now, and Mikan had always loved these little moments—no fuss, just good food and better conversation.

Mikan had picked up spicy chicken from a new restaurant that had opened up nearby. The smell of garlic, ginger, and chili filled the air, mixing with the warm evening light that filtered through her window. Hotaru was always up for trying something new, so she was looking forward to hearing what she thought.

Just as Mikan was finishing up, the doorbell rang, and she quickly wiped her hands on her apron, heading to the door.

Hotaru was standing there, wearing her usual easy smile and carrying a small bag of dessert—some mochi from the convenience store, the kind they both liked.

"Hey," Hotaru grinned, stepping inside and giving Mikan a quick hug before heading straight to the kitchen. "Smells amazing in here. What are we eating tonight?"

"Spicy chicken stew," Mikan replied, lifting the lid off the pot to let the heat escape. "I hope you’re hungry—it’s got a bit of a kick."

Hotaru raised an eyebrow. "You know me, I can handle anything spicy." She set the mochi down on the counter and grabbed a pair of chopsticks, ready to dig in.

Soon enough, they were both seated at the table, eating and chatting as the evening wore on. The food was delicious—rich and flavorful, with just the right amount of heat to keep them both sipping water between bites. The conversation flowed easily, as it always did with Hotaru. They talked about everything: work, the latest TV shows, the latest gossip in their neighborhood, and, of course, love.

"So," Hotaru began, her voice playful, though there was a flicker of something more serious behind her eyes. "Found any cute guys recently?"

Mikan snorted, pushing a piece of chicken around in her bowl. "You know me, Hotaru. I’m just... not looking right now."

Hotaru chuckled, but there was a hint of concern in her voice. "Yeah, I get that. But you’re not thinking of staying single forever, are you?"

Mikan took a moment to consider the question. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought much about it. After her breakup with her ex a few months ago, she'd decided to focus on herself. She'd been content, enjoying her work, hanging out with her friends, and getting lost in her hobbies. She was happy, really, but the idea of love... it was still there, lurking in the background.

"I don’t know," Mikan said slowly. "It’s just... relationships can be so complicated, you know? I think I’m better off just doing my own thing right now."

Hotaru nodded in understanding. "I get it. It’s not all sparkles and romance." She paused, her gaze growing distant for a second. "I guess we’re both in the same boat, huh? Two single girls."

Mikan sighed, taking a sip of her water. “I’m not in a rush, Hotaru. If it happens, it happens. I’m happy where I am right now." She smiled. "And anyway, I’ve got you. What else do I need?"

Hotaru grinned back. "Right, me—your very own personal therapist."

Mikan laughed, reaching over to grab a piece of mochi from the box Hotaru had brought. She popped it in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "Yeah, exactly. You always know how to make me feel better."

"Well, somebody’s got to," Hotaru replied with a smile. "But seriously, Mikan... I think you deserve someone who really gets you."

Mikan’s smile softened. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about it. She had, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to dive back into the chaos of romance. There was always that fear, that vulnerability, that feeling of being exposed. She wasn’t sure she was ready to open up again, to let someone in.

"Maybe," Mikan said, her voice a little quieter. "Maybe one day, I’ll find that."

Hotaru studied her for a moment, then gave her a gentle nod. "I think you will. You’re not the type to settle for anything less than the real deal."

The conversation shifted after that, but the mood between them had settled into something more contemplative. They finished the rest of their meal in comfortable silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Mikan didn’t say it out loud, but she felt something shift inside her as she sat there, eating with Hotaru, her closest friend. Maybe it was time to stop running from the idea of love, to stop closing herself off from the possibility of something more. After all, life was too short to live without taking a chance once in a while. But for tonight, that was a thought for another time.

Mikan was scrolling through her phone a few days later when she noticed something exciting: a local fan event for Kuro Neko, organized by some of his fans in Osaka. It wasn’t a big concert or a professional event, just a small afternoon gathering for those who shared a love for his music. She read through the details and smiled to herself. It sounded like a fun, relaxed way to meet new people who shared her passion for his music—and maybe even make a few new friends along the way.

She had been following Kuro Neko for years, and while she loved his music, she never really had a chance to connect with others who were just as into him as she was. It was always fun to enjoy his songs on her own, but the idea of meeting people who understood the same fandom excitement she felt was tempting. Plus, the event was small, which made it feel more personal and casual—a perfect way to spend an afternoon.

As Mikan read over the event details again, she knew she couldn’t pass it up. It wasn’t like Hotaru could join her—she had work all day, as usual—but Mikan figured this was a great opportunity for her to step outside her comfort zone. Maybe she’d find some like-minded fans and even make some new friends in the process. The thought of socializing with strangers didn’t bother her; she was used to meeting new people, and the idea of bonding over shared interests felt exciting.

With her mind made up, she quickly texted Hotaru.

“The fan gathering for Kuro Neko is tomorrow afternoon!”

Hotaru’s reply came almost instantly. “I’m sorry I can’t make it. Let me know how it goes.”

Mikan smiled, feeling reassured by her friend’s encouragement. As much as she loved Hotaru’s company, this was her chance to do something on her own. Something she could look back on and remember as a fun experience, a new adventure in her otherwise routine life.

The next day, Mikan stood in front of the small event space, feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement. Fans were trickling in, chatting and laughing as they made their way inside. It was a cozy venue, much smaller than the usual events she attended. There were no flashy posters or elaborate stage setups—just a simple room filled with people who were there for the same reason: their love for Kuro Neko’s music.

Mikan took a deep breath, feeling a little out of her element but also exhilarated. She had the chance to meet people who truly understood her obsession with his music, and maybe—just maybe—she’d find some new friends who would share her love for the artist and the atmosphere of these fan events.

She walked inside, looking around the room. Fans had gathered in small groups, chatting animatedly about their favorite songs, the last concert they had attended, and what Kuro Neko’s music meant to them. Mikan felt a little shy but excited to be part of it all. She found a small circle of people standing by the snack table and made her way over, joining in on the conversation.

"Hey!" one of the girls waved. "I don't think we've met. I'm Nonoko, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Mikan," she replied, feeling a sense of relief at how easy it was to start talking to people here.

As the afternoon went on, Mikan felt more and more comfortable. She didn’t realize how much she had missed just having these kinds of conversations with people who shared her interests. It was so different from her usual routine, and she was glad she had stepped out of her comfort zone.

By the end of the event, Mikan had exchanged contact information with a few of the people there. It felt nice, connecting with people who appreciated the same artist. She wasn’t sure if anything would come of it—whether they’d meet up again or keep in touch—but it felt like a good start. For once, she didn’t mind that she had come alone. The afternoon had turned out to be everything she had hoped for, and she was glad she hadn’t let the opportunity slip by.

As she left the event space, her phone buzzed with a message from Hotaru.

"How was it?! Tell me everything!"

Mikan grinned as she typed back, “It was amazing! Met some new people, had a great time. I’ll tell you all about it later!”

Mikan’s heart was light as she made her way home. The day had been exactly what she needed—a break from the usual, a chance to meet new faces, and, for a brief moment, feel closer to the music and the artist who had been such an important part of her life.

Later that evening, Mikan was lounging on her couch, her phone in hand as she thought back to the fan event. It had been so much fun, and she was glad she had decided to go. The atmosphere had been great, and she had met two new people that she really clicked with.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Hotaru: "How was it? Did you meet anyone cool?"

Mikan smiled and quickly typed her reply. "Actually, yeah! I met two girls—Nonoko and Anna. They’re really sweet and super fun to talk to. We hit it off right away! They’re both really into Kuro Neko’s music, and we spent most of the time chatting about him. I’m so glad I went."

She paused, then added, "And the best part? I have their contact info now! I was thinking we could organize a dinner sometime—all four of us. What do you think?"

A few seconds later, Hotaru replied. "I’m happy for you! And yeah, we can organize that."

Mikan couldn’t help but grin at her phone, but then she heard a knock at her door. Looking up, she realized it was Hotaru. She must’ve just gotten off work, as usual, and decided to come over instead of texting.

She got up and opened the door. "Hey! You didn’t waste any time, huh?"

Hotaru grinned back at her. "I figured it’d be better to talk in person than through a bunch of texts. It's a good thing we're neighbours."

Mikan stepped aside to let Hotaru in, and the two of them sat down on the sofa. As Mikan grabbed some snacks, she filled Hotaru in on the details of the event. "So, yeah, Nonoko and Anna? They’re really cute, and we just clicked instantly. We were chatting about everything—Kuro Neko, our favorite songs, concerts we’d been to... It was so easy to talk to them. And they’re just as obsessed with his music as I am."

Hotaru smiled. "I’m glad you had a good time. I’m in for dinner, of course. When are we doing this?"

Mikan smiled, excited at the thought. "I don’t know yet, but we’ll figure it out. I just feel like I made two new friends, and it’s been forever since I did that."

As the girls chatted about the upcoming dinner and the plans Mikan was already forming, Mikan felt lighter than she had in a while. It was nice to have Hotaru there to share in her excitement, especially with the new friendships she was making.

"Maybe we can make it a regular thing," Mikan said as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Dinner, Kuro Neko talks, and all that."

Hotaru raised her glass of water in a mock toast. "Why not."

The evening stretched on with laughter and light conversation, and Mikan couldn’t help but feel grateful for the way her life was shifting. Little by little, things were changing, and for the first time in a while, it felt like things were moving in the right direction.

A few weeks later, Mikan and Hotaru were seated at a cozy restaurant nestled in a lively corner of Osaka. The warm lighting and rustic wooden tables gave the place a casual yet inviting vibe, perfect for their dinner with Nonoko and Anna. The air smelled of grilled meat and savory spices, and the faint hum of conversation created a comfortable buzz.

Mikan tapped her fingers lightly on the table, her excitement barely contained. “I’m glad we finally made this happen,” she said, glancing at Hotaru.

Hotaru leaned back in her chair, her usual calm demeanor intact. “Yeah, it’s nice. You’ve been talking about them nonstop since you met.”

Mikan laughed. “I can’t help it! They were so sweet, and I feel like we’ll really get along. Plus, it’s nice to meet other people who don’t think I’m crazy for being obsessed with Kuro Neko’s music.”

Hotaru raised an eyebrow. “You mean besides me?”

Mikan grinned, nudging her. “You’re not as bad as you pretend to be. Admit it, you’ve hummed ‘Ice Queen’ once or twice.”

Before Hotaru could retort, the restaurant door swung open, and Nonoko and Anna walked in, looking around for their table. Mikan waved them over, and both girls beamed as they approached.

Nonoko, wearing a winter dress and carrying a tote bag, was the first to greet them. “Hi! I hope we’re not late!” she said, her voice bright and cheerful.

“Not at all!” Mikan said, standing to hug her. “You’re right on time.”

Anna, in a chic black sweater and pleated skirt, smiled warmly. “It’s so nice to finally meet both of you again! We’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

As they settled into their seats, the conversation flowed easily, starting with introductions and updates about their lives. Hotaru, who was usually reserved, found herself intrigued by Nonoko’s enthusiasm and Anna’s witty sense of humor.

“So,” Anna said, setting her menu aside, “what’s good here? Have either of you been before?”

Mikan nodded. “I came here once with a coworker. The meat is amazing, and they have this spicy miso ramen that’s to die for.”

“Oh, I’m definitely getting that,” Nonoko said, her eyes lighting up.

The waiter arrived to take their orders, and soon the table was filled with laughter and stories. Nonoko shared a hilarious tale about her cat’s obsession with her hair ties, while Anna recounted a misadventure at work involving a broken copier and an entire office floor covered in paper.

Mikan felt a warm sense of contentment as she looked around the table. The four of them, so different in personality, clicked in a way that felt natural and easy.

“This was such a good idea,” she said aloud, raising her glass of iced tea in a small toast.

“To new friends,” Nonoko said, raising hers in return.

“And good food,” Anna added with a grin.

Hotaru, ever practical, chimed in, “And to Mikan for organizing this.”

They clinked glasses, the sound ringing softly against the backdrop of laughter and conversation in the restaurant. For Mikan, the evening was proof that sometimes, stepping out of her comfort zone led to the most rewarding experiences.

As the dinner continued, the four women grew more comfortable with one another. It didn’t take long before the conversation shifted from lighthearted banter to more personal topics.

“So, Mikan told us how you two are neighbors,” Anna said, her gaze moving between Mikan and Hotaru. “What’s it like living in the same building as your best friend? Do you ever get tired of each other?”

Hotaru smirked. “Tired of her? Nah. She’s harmless most of the time.”

Mikan rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks, Hotaru.” She leaned forward conspiratorially toward Anna and Nonoko. “She just doesn’t want to admit she actually likes having me around.”

Nonoko giggled. “I think it sounds fun. It’s like always having someone to talk to, right?”

“Exactly!” Mikan said, shooting a triumphant look at Hotaru. “And we keep each other in check. Like last week, when someone left her umbrella in the lift again—”

“Okay, okay,” Hotaru interrupted, holding up a hand. “Point taken.”

Anna smiled knowingly. “You two are like an old married couple.”

Mikan and Hotaru exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Mikan said through her giggles. “We’d drive each other insane.”

“Speak for yourself,” Hotaru said, smirking. “I’d survive. You’re the dramatic one.”

As their laughter subsided, Nonoko shifted the topic. “So, what do you guys do for fun when you’re not fangirling over Kuro Neko?”

“I work most of the time,” Hotaru said matter-of-factly. “But when I’m off, I like tinkering with gadgets or watching documentaries.”

Nonoko tilted her head curiously. “Gadgets? Like electronics?”

Hotaru nodded. “Yeah, I build stuff sometimes. It’s a hobby.”

“That’s so cool!” Nonoko said, her eyes wide.

“And Mikan?” Anna prompted, turning her attention to her.

“Me?” Mikan paused, pretending to think. “Hmm, I’d say... baking, reading, and spending way too much time listening to music. You already know how much I love Kuro Neko, but I also enjoy finding new artists.”

Anna’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “You bake? What’s your specialty?”

“Oh, nothing fancy,” Mikan said modestly. “I do a mean batch of cookies, though.”

Anna clapped her hands together. “Next time, you have to bring some!”

“I’ll think about it,” Mikan teased, laughing at their enthusiasm.

The evening wore on, filled with more laughter and lively chatter. By the time they paid the bill and stepped out into the cool night air, Mikan felt a warm glow of contentment.

As they said their goodbyes, Nonoko and Anna both hugged Mikan and Hotaru.

“This was so much fun,” Nonoko said. “We have to do it again soon.”

“Definitely,” Mikan agreed. “I’ll message you both, and we’ll plan something.”

After the two girls waved goodbye and headed off, Mikan and Hotaru began their short walk back to their building.

“So,” Hotaru said, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets, “you think these girls are keepers?”

Mikan smiled. “I do. It’s nice to meet people who get me, you know? I feel like I’ve made real friends tonight.”

Hotaru glanced at her and nodded. They walked the rest of the way in companionable silence, the night wrapping around them like a soft blanket. When they reached their building, Mikan turned to Hotaru.

“Thanks for coming tonight. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

Hotaru smirked. “Of course. Someone has to keep you grounded.”

Mikan laughed as they parted ways, heading to their respective apartments. Once inside, she kicked off her shoes, feeling both exhilarated and exhausted.

As she climbed into bed, her thoughts drifted to the evening. She couldn’t help but feel grateful—for Hotaru, for Nonoko and Anna, and for the unexpected joy of new connections.

Chapter Text

The weeks passed in a gentle rhythm, and Mikan settled comfortably into her routine. She met Anna and Nonoko occasionally for coffee or dinner, their conversations light and full of laughter. The bond between them grew stronger with each meeting, and Mikan found herself grateful for their presence in her life.

Hotaru, as always, remained a constant. Whether it was sharing meals, borrowing books, or simply lounging on Mikan’s couch, she was more like family than just a friend. They didn’t need grand plans to enjoy each other’s company; the familiarity they shared was enough.

As spring faded and summer made its debut, Mikan welcomed the change with open arms. She had always preferred the warmth of summer to the chill of winter. The season brought with it bright mornings, lighter outfits, and a sense of renewal. Her wardrobe shifted to breezy blouses and chic skirts, still professional and elegant for her job at the jewelry shop.

One early June morning, Mikan stepped out of her building, the sun already casting a golden glow on the city streets. Her headphones were in place, and the smooth, soulful voice of Kuro Neko filled her ears as she walked toward the metro station.

She was halfway down her usual path when an impulsive thought struck her. Why not take a different route today? It wasn’t a significant detour, just a small change to spice up the monotony of her commute. Without overthinking, she veered onto a side street, a quieter path lined with small shops and old trees.

The music in her ears provided a soundtrack to her steps as she moved down the unfamiliar road. She was immersed in the rhythm, her mind wandering, when a sudden movement snapped her back to the present.

A figure leaped over a low stone wall, landing with feline grace mere meters in front of her. The person was dressed head-to-toe in black, their hood pulled low and a mask obscuring half of their face. The figure’s movement was quick, almost fluid, but what truly caught her attention were their eyes—an intense shade of red that seemed to glint even in the daylight.

Their gazes locked for the briefest moment, and Mikan felt a strange jolt, as if the world had momentarily shifted. Then, as quickly as they had appeared, the figure dashed away, moving with an urgency that made her heart race.

Before she could fully process what had happened, another figure emerged, running in the same direction. This one was taller, with a shock of blond hair and striking violet eyes. Unlike the first, his face was visible, his expression a mix of determination and frustration.

“What the…” Mikan muttered under her breath, pulling out her headphones as she watched the second person disappear around the corner.

For a moment, the street was silent again, as if nothing had happened. Mikan stood there, frozen, her mind replaying the scene like a clip from a movie. It had been so surreal, almost cinematic, and yet it had unfolded right before her eyes.

Her heart still pounding, she glanced around. A few other pedestrians had paused, their faces reflecting curiosity and mild concern, but no one seemed inclined to intervene or follow.

Mikan hesitated. Should she keep walking, pretend it was just a strange coincidence, or was this something more? She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering sense of unease.

It wasn’t her business, after all. She was just an observer, caught in the middle of something she didn’t understand. Shoving her headphones back in, she resumed her walk, though her usual sense of ease was replaced with a simmering curiosity.

As the music resumed, she found herself thinking about those red eyes. They had been so striking, so familiar, and yet entirely unplaceable. Who were they?

Mikan's day at work was unusually slow, the kind of day where time seemed to drag its feet. The shop was quiet, with only a few customers trickling in, most of them browsing without much interest. She busied herself with polishing the display cases, rearranging the necklaces, and folding velvet cloths, but her mind kept wandering back to the strange encounter that morning.

She’d told herself not to think about it, that it was none of her business, but the memory crept in anyway. The flash of red eyes, the urgency in the way the second figure moved, the whole scene replayed itself in her mind like an unsolved puzzle.

Every time her thoughts began to drift, she snapped herself back to the present. She couldn’t afford to seem distracted, not in a place like this. Her job required attentiveness, a readiness to help the kind of customers who might walk in at any moment and spend a small fortune.

The afternoon wore on in a haze of half-hearted small talk with customers and the faint hum of the shop’s background music. By the time her shift ended, Mikan felt drained—not from physical effort but from the constant effort to keep her thoughts in check.

She left the shop with a polite wave to Ichigo and stepped into the early evening warmth. The golden light of the setting sun felt comforting against her skin, a gentle reminder that the day was finally over.

Her usual walk to the metro station was quiet, though she caught herself glancing over her shoulder more than once. Stop it, Mikan, she thought firmly. It’s not like you’re being followed.

But her mind betrayed her. She kept seeing flashes of those intense red eyes whenever she blinked, the look that had seemed to pierce right through her in that fleeting moment.

By the time she reached her apartment, Mikan was exhausted in a way she couldn’t quite explain. She kicked off her shoes, put her bag down, and headed straight for the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of iced tea. She stood by the window, sipping slowly as the city buzzed below her.

Maybe it had been nothing. A weird coincidence, an oddity in an otherwise mundane life. But some part of her refused to let it go. It felt like the kind of moment that left ripples, the kind that couldn’t simply be brushed aside.

Shaking her head, Mikan turned her focus to the present. She still had an evening ahead, and she wasn’t going to let herself spiral over something so insignificant. It’s just my imagination, she thought. Tomorrow will be back to normal.

The days blended together as Mikan fell back into her usual routine. Mornings were a whirlwind of getting ready, grabbing a quick breakfast, and catching the metro to work. Evenings were spent unwinding at home, sometimes with Hotaru, other times curled up on her couch with a book or her favorite playlist.

The city was alive with the hum of summer, the air thick with warmth and the scent of blooming flowers. Mikan had always loved this time of year—the long days, the vibrant streets, and the excuse to wear breezy dresses and sandals.

As June rolled on, Mikan’s excitement began to bubble. She had circled the date of Kuro Neko’s album release event on her calendar weeks ago. It was happening at the end of the month, a special fan gathering to celebrate his latest work. There would be a signing session, and attendees had the chance to meet him briefly. For Mikan, it felt like a small dream coming true.

Hotaru teased her about it in her usual deadpan way. “Just don’t pass out when you meet him,” she said one evening as they shared a bowl of watermelon slices on Mikan’s balcony.

“I won’t,” Mikan protested, laughing. “I’m not that dramatic.”

“Mm, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Finally, the day arrived. Mikan had taken extra care with her outfit, choosing a light, airy blouse paired with a flowy skirt and her favorite sandals. Her makeup was soft but elegant, and she’d painted her nails a subtle blush pink to match her ensemble. She looked every bit the part of a devoted fan, excited but composed.

The event was being held at a stylish venue downtown, and Mikan could feel her heart flutter as she joined the line outside. The energy was infectious; fans around her were chatting animatedly, some holding handmade signs or wearing T-shirts with Kuro Neko’s logo.

When the doors opened, Mikan was ushered inside with the crowd. The space was sleek and modern, with low lighting that cast an intimate glow. A playlist of Kuro Neko’s new songs played softly in the background, adding to the atmosphere. Tables displayed merchandise, and a long table at the front of the room was set up for the signing.

Mikan browsed the displays, eventually purchasing the new album along with a small poster. She felt a mix of nerves and excitement building as the signing session began. Fans were called forward in small groups, and Mikan’s turn came sooner than she expected.

As she stepped forward, clutching her album, she finally saw him up close. Kuro Neko—Natsume Hyuga—was dressed in his signature style, a sleek black shirt and tailored pants that exuded effortless cool. His crimson hair caught the light, and his sharp features softened slightly as he looked up to greet her.

“Hi,” he said, his voice smooth and deeper than she’d imagined.

Mikan managed a smile, though her heart was pounding. “Hi, thank you for your music. It’s been... such an inspiration for me.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Thank you for listening.”

As he signed her album, Mikan found herself blurting out, “I really loved your last concert in Osaka. It was incredible.”

He glanced up, a faint flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps? “You were there?”

“Yes,” she admitted, feeling a bit shy now. “It was my first time seeing you live. It was unforgettable.”

He handed her the signed album and gave her a small smile, one that felt surprisingly genuine. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for coming today.”

Mikan clutched the album to her chest, warmth blooming in her cheeks. “Thank you.”

As she stepped aside to let the next fan take her place, she felt like she was floating. The moment had been brief, but it was one she knew she’d replay in her mind over and over.

The rest of the event passed in a blur. She exchanged a few words with other fans, took photos of the displays, and lingered until the very end, savoring every second.

When she finally left the venue, the evening air was warm and filled with the sounds of the city. Mikan smiled to herself, the signed album tucked safely in her bag. For the first time in weeks, her thoughts weren’t clouded by the strange encounter from earlier in the summer. All she could think about was the way Kuro Neko had smiled at her, and how his music had a way of making everything feel just a little more magical.

Later that evening, Mikan was back at her apartment, the signed album carefully placed on her coffee table. Hotaru had arrived not long after, carrying a bag of takeout, as though she’d known Mikan would be too distracted to cook anything herself.

“So,” Hotaru began, setting down the food containers on the kitchen counter. “How was it?”

Mikan, sitting cross-legged on the couch, hugged a cushion to her chest. “It was... magical,” she said softly, her cheeks warming at the memory.

Hotaru raised an eyebrow as she unpacked the food. “Magical, huh? Did he pull a rabbit out of a hat or something?”

Mikan rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “You know what I mean. He’s just... so different in person. His voice, his presence—it’s even more captivating up close.”

“Hmm,” Hotaru said, carrying over the food and sitting beside Mikan. “Let me guess—you froze up and stared at him like a deer in headlights?”

“Hotaru!” Mikan protested, her face now fully flushed. “I didn’t freeze! I talked to him.”

“Oh? What did you say?”

Mikan hesitated, hugging the cushion tighter. “I told him I loved his music... and that the concert was unforgettable.”

Hotaru smirked, taking a bite of her dumpling. “Bold. Did you manage to survive his reply?”

Mikan huffed. “He was polite! He said he was glad I enjoyed it.”

“Polite,” Hotaru echoed, her tone teasing. “And let me guess, you’re replaying every single word in your head on a loop?”

Mikan groaned, burying her face in the cushion. “Why are you like this?”

“Because it’s hilarious,” Hotaru replied, completely unbothered. “You’re sitting here, all dreamy-eyed, over a guy who probably talks to hundreds of fans like that every week.”

“It wasn’t just that,” Mikan mumbled into the cushion. “It felt... personal. Like he actually listened to what I was saying.”

Hotaru’s smirk softened just a little. “Okay, I’ll give you that. He probably did. Artists like him don’t get to where they are by ignoring their fans.”

Mikan peeked out from behind the cushion, her expression a mix of hope and embarrassment. “Do you think he’ll remember me?”

“Highly unlikely,” Hotaru said without missing a beat, then quickly added, “But that doesn’t mean the moment wasn’t special. It was for you, and that’s what matters.”

Mikan smiled faintly, though her shyness still lingered. “It just felt so surreal, you know? Like, I’ve been listening to his music for years, and then suddenly, he’s right there in front of me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hotaru said, waving her chopsticks dismissively. “And now you’re back here, eating dumplings with me, so clearly, life goes on.”

Mikan laughed despite herself. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’d be lost without me.”

They ate in companionable silence for a while, the teasing atmosphere giving way to a more comfortable one. Hotaru glanced at the album on the table, its sleek cover gleaming under the warm glow of the living room lamp.

“For what it’s worth,” she said, her voice softer now, “I think it’s cool you went. You’ve been listening to his music for so long, and now you’ve got this memory to hold onto.”

Mikan looked at her friend, her smile growing. “Thanks, Hotaru.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hotaru replied, smirking again. “But if you start writing his name in little hearts, we’re going to have a serious talk.”

“Hotaru!”

Their laughter echoed through the apartment, light and easy, as the night stretched on.

The week after the event brought a subtle shift to Mikan’s routine, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Life hummed along as usual—work at the jewelry shop and Hotaru’s regular visits to her apartment. Yet, there was an unfamiliar energy lingering in the building, something that made her pause every time she walked down the corridor to her apartment.

It started one morning as she locked her door to leave for work. From the corner of her eye, she noticed movement further down the hall. A man stood at the door to the apartment two doors down from hers, fiddling with a set of keys.

He was tall, with tousled blond hair that caught the morning light, and striking blue eyes that flicked up just as she turned to glance at him. Their gazes met for a fleeting second. Mikan’s first thought was that he looked like he had walked out of a magazine—his features sharp, yet softened by something unspoken, like a quiet melancholy.

“Good morning,” she ventured, offering a polite smile.

He nodded curtly, his expression unreadable, before stepping into his apartment without a word.

Mikan blinked, her hand still on her bag. Well, that was... brief.

When she mentioned the encounter to Hotaru later that evening, her friend shrugged. “Probably just one of those socially awkward types. Or maybe he’s avoiding the both of us on purpose. I wouldn’t blame him.”

“Hotaru!” Mikan laughed, tossing a pillow in her direction.

Over the next few days, Mikan occasionally caught glimpses of her new neighbor. Sometimes she’d see him leaving the building in the early mornings, dressed casually but with an understated sense of style—a simple hoodie paired with tailored jeans and sneakers that seemed a bit too pristine for everyday wear. Other times, she’d hear the faint hum of music through his door when she walked past in the evening.

She learned his name from a small handwritten label stuck to his mailbox: Luca Nogi.

“He sounds foreign,” Hotaru remarked when Mikan mentioned it during one of their regular dinners.

“Maybe. Or he could just have unique parents,” Mikan replied.

“Have you actually talked to him since?”

Mikan shook her head. “Not really. He’s always polite but distant. I feel like I’d scare him off if I said too much.”

“Or,” Hotaru said, smirking, “you’re overthinking like you always do.”

Despite Hotaru’s teasing, Mikan couldn’t help but be curious. Luca seemed quite introverted, the opposite of her personality.

One evening, as Mikan returned from work, she spotted Luca sitting on the building’s front steps, his phone in hand. He didn’t seem to notice her approach until she was almost at the door.

“Hi again,” she said softly, hesitating a moment before continuing. “I don’t think we’ve properly met. I’m Mikan Sakura. I live just a few doors down from you.”

He looked up, his blue eyes meeting hers with a flicker of surprise. “Luca,” he said simply, his voice low and steady.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, smiling warmly. “If you ever need help with anything around the building, don’t hesitate to ask. We’re all pretty friendly here.”

“Thanks,” he said, nodding slightly. There was a pause, and for a moment, Mikan thought he might say more. But instead, he returned his attention to his phone, effectively ending the conversation.

Mikan walked inside, her curiosity about him only growing.

“I think we have a mystery neighbor,” she told Hotaru later that evening.

“Maybe he’s secretly a spy,” Hotaru said with a smirk.

“Or maybe he’s just shy,” Mikan countered.

“Either way, sounds like we’ve got some entertainment,” Hotaru teased.

And as much as Mikan tried to brush it off, she couldn’t deny the little spark of intrigue that came with having someone as enigmatic as Luca Nogi living just a few doors away.

Mikan’s curiosity was both a blessing and a curse. She had a natural ability to notice things others might overlook, which often led to interesting conversations and a rich understanding of the people around her. But it also meant she sometimes pushed boundaries. Her friends, and even a few exes, had told her on more than one occasion that she could be too nosy.

Still, when something piqued her interest, Mikan found it nearly impossible to let it go.

With Luca, she had tried her best to exercise restraint. He was clearly private, and she didn’t want to risk scaring him off with her usual questions and cheerful friendliness. But her curiosity about him simmered quietly, bubbling just beneath the surface.

One evening, after a long day at the jewelry shop, Mikan returned home eager to unwind. The heat of the summer air clung to her as she stepped out of the metro and walked the short distance to her building. She had her headphones in, her playlist alternating between Kuro Neko’s old album and a few summer pop hits, when she noticed something unusual.

As she turned the corner into her corridor, her eyes instinctively landed on Luca’s apartment door. And then, she saw movement.

A man dressed entirely in black—hood and face mask—was entering Luca’s flat. The figure moved quickly, almost too quickly, and closed the door behind him before Mikan could process what she was seeing.

She stood frozen for a moment, her keys halfway out of her bag.

That’s... odd.

She replayed the scene in her mind, trying to recall any distinguishing features about the man. But it had all happened so fast. His face had been obscured, and his movements were deliberate, almost calculated.

Mikan felt a prickle of unease. Was this a friend of Luca’s? A relative? Or someone who had no business being there at all?

Her first instinct was to march over and knock on Luca’s door to check if everything was alright. But she stopped herself. What if it’s none of my business? she thought, biting her lip. Luca barely spoke to her as it was—showing up uninvited with questions about mysterious visitors was bound to earn her even more distance.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Once inside her own apartment, Mikan paced the living room, her mind racing. She considered texting Hotaru but hesitated. Hotaru had a knack for cutting through Mikan’s dramatics with blunt practicality, and Mikan wasn’t sure she was ready to hear. Maybe it’s just a delivery guy in tactical gear, or worse.

Instead, she made herself a cup of iced tea and sat by the window, staring absently out at the street below. Despite her attempts to distract herself, her thoughts kept drifting back to Luca and his mysterious visitor.

Maybe it’s nothing, she told herself. Or maybe... it’s something.

Her curiosity was already pulling her toward the latter.

The next morning, Mikan woke to the soft hum of her wake-up music. After a quick breakfast and a moment spent deciding between two pairs of earrings—she opted for the simpler studs—she grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

She locked it with a twist of her wrist, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Her eyes instinctively scanned the hallway as she turned, and she noticed the lift doors were already open. Someone was inside.

With her usual cheerful demeanor, Mikan walked briskly toward the lift, her sandals clicking softly against the floor. As she stepped inside, she glanced at the figure already standing there. "Thank you!" she said with a polite smile.

The man didn’t respond.

Mikan’s smile faltered slightly, but she brushed it off. Not everyone was a morning person, after all. It was then that she noticed his outfit—a hoodie pulled over his head and a black mask covering the lower half of his face. The all-black ensemble struck her as oddly familiar, but she pushed the thought aside as she leaned back against the lift’s wall.

With her head tilted back, she pulled her phone from her bag and connected her headphones. Kuro Neko’s latest track started playing softly in her ears as the lift began its descent. She didn’t pay much attention to the man, who remained silent and still in his corner of the lift.

When they reached the ground floor, Mikan stepped out first, muttering a quick, "Have a good day!" as she exited. She didn’t check to see if he responded; she was already slipping into her usual routine, letting her music guide her steps as she made her way to the metro.

But as she walked, her thoughts began to circle back.

Wait a second...

The image of the man entering Luca’s flat last night flickered in her memory. The hoodie, the mask—it was eerily similar. Her stride faltered as realization dawned. Could it be the same person?

Her heart gave a quick, nervous thud.

Mikan stopped at the next corner, her curiosity ignited. She turned her head slightly, intending to glance back toward the building. But when she did, there was no one.

The sidewalk stretched empty in both directions, save for a few distant figures too far to make out clearly.

A shiver ran down her spine, despite the warm summer morning. Mikan pressed her lips together, pulling her bag closer to her side. She shook her head lightly, trying to dispel the unease creeping into her thoughts.

Maybe I’m just overthinking things again.

But the feeling lingered as she continued on her way to work, the man’s silent presence in the lift replaying in her mind like a scene from a mystery novel.

Throughout the day, Mikan tried to focus on her work, but the strange encounter lingered in her mind like a stubborn itch she couldn’t scratch. She busied herself with the new summer jewelry display, adjusting necklaces and bracelets under the soft glow of the store’s lights. Her colleague, Ichigo, noticed her distracted state and teased her lightly.

"Earth to Mikan," Ichigo said, waving a hand in front of her face. "You’ve been zoning out all day. Trouble in paradise?"

Mikan blinked and forced a laugh. "What paradise? My life’s as calm as ever," she replied, straightening a line of delicate silver rings. "Just didn’t sleep well, that’s all."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press further.

As the hours crawled by, Mikan caught herself glancing at the shop’s glass doors whenever a customer entered, half-expecting to see the mysterious man in black walk through them. Of course, he never did. By the time her shift ended, she was no closer to unraveling the oddness of that morning than she had been when she left her building.

The late afternoon sun was still warm as she walked home. This time, she made a conscious effort to stick to her usual route, her thoughts swimming with questions.

When she reached her building, her eyes flickered to Luca’s door as she passed it in the hallway. It was closed, as always. There were no sounds coming from inside, no indication of anyone being home.

Mikan hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering near the handle of her own door. A part of her wanted to knock on Luca’s door, if only to satisfy her curiosity. But she quickly shook the thought away. Don’t be nosy, she reminded herself.

Once inside her apartment, she dropped her bag onto the kitchen counter and sighed. The quiet hum of her living room usually comforted her, but tonight it only made her thoughts louder.

After a quick shower, she slipped into her comfiest pair of shorts and a loose tank top. She curled up on the couch with a cup of iced tea, her phone in hand. Scrolling through her messages, she debated texting Hotaru about what she’d seen, but she knew her friend would just roll her eyes and tell her she was imagining things.

Instead, she settled on watching a rerun of a romantic drama she liked. The fictional tension between the characters distracted her, at least for a little while.

But as night fell and the city outside her window quieted, Mikan found herself once again thinking about the man in black. Who was he? Why had he been in Luca’s flat? And why did he look so familiar?

The questions chased her into sleep, where she dreamed of shadowy figures, fleeting glances, and the unsettling feeling of being watched.

Chapter Text

August brought a relentless heat that seemed to linger in the building's hallways, thick and heavy. Mikan couldn’t believe how quickly the summer had flown by. As she stood in her kitchen, sipping a cold glass of water, she thought back to how much of a mystery her new neighbors had remained.

The man in black had been a ghostly presence, appearing now and then in the building like a shadow slipping through cracks. He never spoke, never made a sound, and never even acknowledged her. His aura of detachment was unnerving, yet oddly fascinating.

Hotaru had turned the whole situation into a running joke.

"I’m telling you," Hotaru had said during one of their usual dinners, chopsticks in hand. "They’re totally secret agents on some undercover mission. Maybe they’re hiding a briefcase of classified documents in that flat."

Mikan had laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. "Or maybe they’re just… roommates? Or a couple? That would explain the mysterious vibes."

"Gay secret agents, then," Hotaru had replied with a smirk.

Their wild theories had filled the better part of July. Every time Mikan saw the man in black, or even thought about Luca, she’d replay those ridiculous conversations in her head. It made the whole thing seem less strange, more like a quirky subplot in the sitcom of her life.

Still, as she walked past Luca’s door on her way out one morning, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of curiosity. Who were they? What had they been doing here?

The questions remained unanswered, but Mikan couldn’t dwell on them for long. Life had a way of moving forward, whether or not the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. And with the warmth of summer still lingering and her routine keeping her busy, Mikan let the mystery settle into the background, like a story she’d one day forget to finish.

The sun was already warm despite the early hour as Mikan stood outside the amusement park gates, her excitement bubbling beneath the surface. She glanced around at the gathering crowd, spotting families with children clutching balloons and couples snapping selfies. But her focus returned to her small group as Anna and Nonoko approached, their energy as infectious as ever.

“You’re finally here!” Mikan grinned, waving.

Nonoko was carrying a brightly colored backpack that looked almost comically stuffed. “Don’t judge,” she said, catching Mikan’s curious glance. “I like to be prepared for everything—snacks, sunscreen, emergency tissues, you name it.”

Anna, ever stylish, adjusted her sunhat with a mock exasperated sigh. “You’d think we were embarking on a survival mission, not just spending the day screaming on roller coasters.”

Hotaru, standing off to the side with her usual calm demeanor, adjusted her sunglasses. “Better to be overprepared than stuck buying overpriced water inside.”

Mikan chuckled, linking her arm with Anna’s. “Fair point. So, are we ready to have the best day ever?”

The four of them made their way inside, their tickets scanned efficiently. The park unfolded before them like a colorful wonderland, music playing softly from hidden speakers, and the scent of caramel popcorn and fried food wafting through the air.

First on the agenda: a classic roller coaster.

Anna was surprisingly brave, volunteering for the front seat without hesitation, while Nonoko, despite her bubbly exterior, was visibly nervous. Mikan patted her on the back reassuringly. “You’ll love it! It’s just a little wind in your hair and a few stomach-flipping drops.”

“A few?” Nonoko muttered, eyeing the towering ride with trepidation.

As the roller coaster roared to life and they plunged into exhilarating twists and turns, Mikan couldn’t stop laughing, her arms thrown in the air while Nonoko clung to the safety bar, her screams mixing with laughter.

The day flowed seamlessly from ride to ride, with Hotaru providing sarcastic commentary that had everyone in stitches and Nonoko keeping them all fueled with snacks from her magical backpack. When they weren’t testing their bravery on rides, they wandered through the themed zones, taking photos in front of giant props and indulging in every silly souvenir that caught their attention.

During lunch, the four of them found a shaded table near a water fountain. The sound of splashing water was soothing against the background noise of the park.

“This was such a good idea,” Mikan said, sipping on a fresh lemonade. “We should do stuff like this more often.”

Anna nodded enthusiastically. “Agreed! But next time, let’s go to the beach. I have a new swimsuit I’ve been dying to wear.”

“Count me out,” Hotaru deadpanned, earning a collective laugh from the group.

As the day wore on, they found themselves lingering at the carousel for a more relaxing end to their adventure. The horses gleamed in the afternoon sun as they climbed aboard, each choosing an animal that matched their mood.

Mikan took a deep breath as the ride began to spin, the gentle breeze playing with her hair. For once, life felt uncomplicated—a rare, perfect moment of joy shared with people who truly mattered.

By the time they left the park in the evening, exhausted but beaming, Mikan knew this was a memory she’d hold onto for years to come.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the corridor walls in shades of orange and gold, Mikan and Hotaru walked side by side, their conversation still alive with laughter.

"I can’t believe you almost trampled that poor kid," Hotaru teased, her lips twitching in amusement.

Mikan groaned, her cheeks tinged with embarrassment. "I didn’t see him! He just… appeared out of nowhere!"

"Sure, sure. It’s a good thing Nonoko grabbed your arm before you caused a scene."

They stopped in front of their respective apartment doors, still grinning. Mikan leaned against her doorframe, clutching her tote bag. "You’ll never let me live it down, will you?"

"Not a chance," Hotaru replied smugly, crossing her arms.

Their lighthearted banter was interrupted by the soft click of a door opening. Both girls turned their heads to see Luca stepping out of his flat, followed closely by the man in black.

Luca’s gaze flicked to them briefly, his face as neutral as ever. He gave them a small nod of acknowledgment before following the man, who was already heading toward the lift with his hood pulled up. The man's face was as obscured as always, but his movements were purposeful, almost sharp.

The lift doors opened, and the two men stepped inside. Mikan and Hotaru watched as the doors slid shut, leaving the corridor silent except for the distant hum of the building’s central air system.

Mikan turned to Hotaru, her brows raised in mock surprise. "Well, that wasn’t suspicious at all."

Hotaru smirked, her sharp wit already at work. "Another chapter for our spy novel, maybe? Secret mission? Criminal duo?"

"Or they’re aliens plotting to take over the planet," Mikan offered, her tone conspiratorial.

The two burst into soft laughter, stifling it with their hands like mischievous schoolgirls caught gossiping.

"You have to admit," Hotaru said, her voice low, "it’s a bit weird, isn’t it? The guy in black is always lurking, and Luca is… well, Luca."

Mikan nodded, her curiosity bubbling up again despite her better judgment. "It’s like they live in a different world. But then again, who are we to judge? Maybe they’re just… really private people."

"Or really shady," Hotaru quipped.

They lingered for a moment longer, the mystery adding a spark of intrigue to their otherwise ordinary day. Finally, Mikan unlocked her door, smiling at her friend. "Dinner tomorrow at mine?"

"Of course," Hotaru said, already turning toward her own flat. "And bring updates if you see anything else suspicious. I’m invested now."

With a final shared laugh, they parted ways, but the image of the two men stayed with Mikan. Her imagination danced with possibilities as she entered her apartment, shaking her head at her own curiosity.

Hotaru was never going to believe it.

The next afternoon, Mikan’s day had been a blur of customers, jewelry displays, and a relentless summer sun. She was relieved to leave work, craving the comfort of her air-conditioned apartment.

As she left the station, the usual bustle of commuters surrounded her, but something—or someone—caught her eye. In the midst of the crowd, a flash of red stood out against the sea of ordinary faces. Her breath hitched as her gaze zeroed in on a familiar pair of striking red eyes.

Kuro Neko.

It couldn’t be.

She blinked, and just like that, the figure was gone, swallowed by the throng of people.

Mikan paused, her heart thudding in her chest. "I’m losing it," she muttered under her breath.

The thought of her favorite artist casually strolling through her station was absurd. He was far too wealthy to be taking the metro. Kuro Neko, the enigmatic superstar, probably had private drivers, exclusive entrances, and no need to mingle with the likes of everyday commuters.

Mikan laughed at herself, shaking her head as she continued her walk home. "Next, I’ll be seeing him in my building," she joked to herself, her nerves settling as she approached the familiar structure.

She entered the lobby, pressing the lift button with a sigh. The quiet hum of the building felt grounding after the strange moment earlier.

As the lift doors began to close, Mikan glanced up and noticed someone walking toward her. She quickly pressed the button to hold the doors open. It was Luca’s mysterious friend—the man in black.

He stepped in with a curt nod of acknowledgment, his hood up and mask covering most of his face as usual. Mikan smiled politely, her natural warmth shining through. "Good timing," she said softly, though she wasn’t expecting a response.

The lift started its ascent, the hum of the machinery filling the silence. Mikan found herself sneaking a couple of curious glances. He seemed familiar, somehow, though she couldn’t place why. Maybe it was his demeanor—the same quiet confidence that Luca had.

When the lift reached her floor, Mikan stepped out, offering a cheerful, "Have a good evening."

The man nodded once, stepping out as well, though he walked toward Luca’s flat.

Mikan unlocked her door and slipped inside, her thoughts still on the strange coincidences of the day. First, the glimpse of red eyes in the station. Now, the quiet presence of Luca’s friend.

As she set her bag down and prepared to unwind, a small smile tugged at her lips. "Hotaru is going to have a field day with this one," she murmured, already imagining her friend’s teasing remarks.

That evening, Mikan’s apartment was filled with the comforting aroma of stir-fry and rice. Hotaru sat at the table, casually scrolling through her phone while Mikan plated their dinner.

“Alright, dinner’s served,” Mikan announced, setting the dishes down.

Hotaru put her phone aside and picked up her chopsticks. “Smells good. You’re getting better at this, you know.”

Mikan grinned. “Thanks, but don’t get too used to it. Next time, you’re cooking.”

Hotaru smirked. “We both know I’d just order takeout.”

They laughed, the lighthearted banter setting the tone for their evening. As they dug into their meal, the conversation naturally shifted to the events of the day.

“So,” Hotaru began, a mischievous glint in her eye, “you said you saw Luca’s mysterious friend again?”

Mikan nodded, swallowing a bite of rice. “Yeah, in the lift. Same as always—completely silent, head-to-toe black. He’s like a shadow. I smiled and said hi, but nothing. Just nodded. It’s weird, but whatever.”

As the evening wore on, Mikan and Hotaru continued to talk and laugh, but there was still something nagging at Mikan's mind. She couldn't quite shake the thought of the man in black, and her earlier glimpse of Kuro Neko in the underground station.

The two girls sat back at the table, finishing off the last of their dinner. They were still laughing from the fun of the day and the absurdity of it all, but now, as Hotaru wiped her mouth with a napkin, a playful gleam sparkled in her eyes.

“Okay, but imagine this,” Hotaru began, her voice full of mischief. “What if that man in black is actually Kuro Neko? And he’s somehow in a secret relationship with Luca?” She leaned forward dramatically, eyes wide as if she were revealing the greatest secret of the century.

Mikan froze for a second, then burst out laughing, nearly choking on her drink. “What?! You mean, Kuro Neko, my favorite artist, is hiding out in my building—with Luca?! That’s insane, Hotaru!” She wiped her eyes as she struggled to keep herself from laughing even harder. “That would be like some insane revelation, but with Luca of all people? The guy who barely says two words to anyone?”

Hotaru grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. “I mean, hey, we’re talking about a celebrity who’s probably tired of the whole ‘famous life’ thing. So, he decides to wear a mask and a hoodie, and lives in his friend’s building just to keep a low profile. And Luca’s his secret partner, obviously! They’ve been hiding their relationship from everyone, even from you!”

Mikan wiped a tear from her eye as she laughed again. “That would be too ridiculous! I can’t even imagine it. Kuro Neko, the Kuro Neko, wearing all black and trying to blend in like a regular person? He’s way too famous to be walking around like that! He probably has a private driver, bodyguards, and the works. He’d never just take the metro!”

Hotaru rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “Sure, Mikan. Because celebrities never use public transport. They just teleport everywhere, right?”

Mikan burst into another fit of laughter. “Yeah, I’m sure his limo is always right behind him, waiting to swoop him up!” She fanned herself with her hand, still chuckling at the absurdity of the idea. “I guess Luca’s just his personal bodyguard then, huh?”

“Of course!” Hotaru laughed along. “Luca’s probably just standing there, guarding the door and pretending to be cool, while Kuro Neko’s living his best incognito life in the hallway.”

Mikan snorted. “Honestly, that would be the craziest thing to ever happen. I’d die of embarrassment if I found out it was true! Here I am, casually talking to the guy who’s secretly my favorite singer, and I didn’t even know!”

Hotaru paused for a second, suddenly thoughtful. “Wait, hold on…” Her face went a little more serious, and she looked at Mikan with wide eyes. “What if… What if it actually is him? I mean, it’d make sense, right?”

Mikan blinked and stopped laughing, but only for a moment. She quickly shook her head. “Okay, now you’re taking this way too seriously. That’s like saying I could be dating a famous actor and not even know it. Imagine it… Kuro Neko, just living down the hall, and I don’t recognize him? No way!”

Both girls burst out laughing again, clutching their stomachs as they imagined the idea. The sheer ridiculousness of it all made it even funnier.

Finally, Hotaru wiped her eyes, still chuckling. “I’m just saying, don’t be surprised if one day, Kuro Neko walks past you in the hall and you have no idea. He could be living right next door for all we know!”

Mikan shook her head, still grinning. “Well, if that ever happens, you’ll be the first one I call! And I’ll apologize for laughing at your crazy theories.”

As the girls giggled, they both knew that the idea was utterly impossible, but somehow, in the moment, it felt like it could be true. Or maybe, it was just one of those nights when the most ridiculous thoughts were the most fun to entertain. Either way, it was a night filled with laughter—and a story they would never forget.

Over the next few days, Mikan couldn't help but let her mind wander back to the conversation she'd had with Hotaru. It was ridiculous, of course—impossible even—but the idea of the man in black being someone important, like Kuro Neko, kept sneaking into her thoughts. Every time she crossed paths with him in the building, she found herself more attentive than ever, trying to catch a glimpse of his face, his eyes, anything that could give her a clue.

But as usual, he was elusive. His head was always down, his fringe covering most of his face, and his posture closed off, like he was deliberately trying to blend into the background. Mikan found herself instinctively looking for any hint that might confirm her wild theory. Was there something about the way he walked? The way he moved? She could never quite tell. Each time, she could only catch a fleeting glimpse of his features before he disappeared around a corner or into an lift. It was maddening.

The one time she had seen his eyes, though, felt almost surreal. They had been black—deep, dark, and intense—but that wasn’t what bothered her. It was the shape of them. The moment their gazes met, Mikan had felt a strange sense of recognition, something that tugged at the back of her mind, like she should know him from somewhere. His eyes weren’t just black; they had a certain familiarity to them, a shape, a depth that made her feel like she had seen them before, long ago. It was an odd feeling, like a puzzle piece that just wouldn’t fit into the right place.

She couldn’t shake the image from her mind. Why did they feel so familiar? Mikan wondered. It wasn’t just the shape, but something about the way they glinted, even for that split second. Could it be that she had seen those eyes somewhere else? Or was it all in her head, just the product of her imagination running wild after Hotaru’s ridiculous suggestion?

But no matter how much she tried to dismiss it, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something more to him than just an ordinary neighbor. It was almost as though she were missing a piece of the puzzle. Every time she saw him, it felt like a test, like she was being drawn into something larger—something mysterious.

That night, after a long day at work, Mikan found herself walking home, her footsteps slow as her thoughts once again turned to the man in black. She passed the building’s entrance and caught sight of him ahead, entering the building just as she was about to turn the corner. Her heart skipped a beat, and, without thinking, she picked up her pace.

Her eyes never left him as she followed him into the building, hoping for another chance to see his face. This time, she was determined to catch a glimpse of those eyes again.

As the lift doors slid open, the man stepped inside, his posture as distant and closed off as ever. He didn’t acknowledge her, not even with a glance. Mikan followed him into the lift, her heart racing.

"Good evening," she said, forcing herself to sound casual, trying to not make it obvious how much she was scrutinizing his every move.

The man didn’t respond. His gaze stayed fixed on his phone, one hand in his pockets. Mikan hesitated, her mind whirling with questions. But there was no answer from him, only the soft hum of the lift.

She wasn’t sure if she was just being paranoid, but she swore she could feel the presence of something strange about him, as if he was holding something back—something important.

With a deep breath, she stepped out on her floor, her curiosity burning. She turned to look back, but by the time she reached her door, the man was gone.

Was it just my imagination again? she thought, frustrated by her inability to read him.

For the first time in days, Mikan wondered if it was time to let it go. Maybe Hotaru was right—it was all a silly, impossible theory. But deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the man in black than met the eye.

Hotaru and Mikan were sprawled on the sofa, the room filled with the familiar scent of pizza, courtesy of Hotaru, who had insisted on ordering from their favorite place for their girls' night in. Mikan took a bite, savoring the warm, cheesy goodness as she stretched out on the couch.

Hotaru, not really the talkative one, was in a state of mild excitement, her hands animated as she gestured between bites. “You won’t believe it,” she said, her voice carrying the familiar teasing tone, “but I ran into Luca in the lift today. Just a quick chat, but still...”

Mikan’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of Luca. She swallowed the bite she had been chewing, trying not to sound too eager. “Really? What happened? What did he say?”

Hotaru leaned back against the armrest, her eyes mischievous. “Not much, to be honest. He was still as distant as ever, you know? But... there was something different about him today. He wasn’t as cold when he spoke to me. Not like how he is with you, I think.” She smiled at Mikan, clearly enjoying her friend’s reaction.

Mikan felt a twinge of surprise at Hotaru’s words. Cold with me? She had never really thought about it that way, but now that Hotaru had mentioned it, she realized Luca did seem more aloof whenever they crossed paths. He was distant, always with his eyes down, never really making an effort to engage in conversation. But for Hotaru to say he was “less cold” with her—well, that was interesting.

“Less cold?” Mikan echoed, leaning forward, intrigued. “What do you mean by that? Was he... friendlier? More talkative?”

Hotaru laughed, taking another slice of pizza. “I wouldn’t go that far, but definitely less guarded. We talked about the weather, of all things. He didn’t seem like he was trying to avoid the conversation, like he does with you. He didn’t even act like he was in a hurry to get away from me.” She paused, raising an eyebrow. “I’m telling you, Mikan, there’s something about that guy. He’s not as mysterious as he looks. I think he’s just... shy.”

Mikan blinked at her, unsure whether to laugh or take Hotaru seriously. “Shy? Luca?” The thought was almost too strange to consider. Luca, the man who barely looked at her, who always wore that quiet, distant aura. Shy? It didn’t seem to fit.

Hotaru rolled her eyes, picking at the crust of her pizza. “Yes, shy. He doesn’t want to open up to you, but he’s probably more comfortable with other people. Maybe he just sees you as a little... too observant. Not that I blame him.”

Mikan felt a flush of heat rise to her cheeks at Hotaru’s teasing. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

“That bad? No, but you do tend to stare at him a little too much,” Hotaru teased with a smirk. “I mean, come on, we both know you’re still trying to figure him out. And then there’s the whole ‘man in black’ mystery.”

Mikan sighed, feeling a bit embarrassed but also oddly comforted by her friend’s playful remarks. “I can’t help it. The man’s... weird. He never talks to me. It’s like he’s some kind of... ghost or something.”

Hotaru raised an eyebrow. “A ghost? I think that’s a bit extreme. Maybe he’s just... tired or introverted. Who knows? People have their reasons for acting distant.”

Mikan smiled slightly, relaxing back into the couch, but her mind was still whirring. “You think Luca is just shy, huh?” she mused. “I guess that would make sense. I don’t know... maybe I’ve been reading too much into it.”

Hotaru took another bite of pizza, glancing at her with a smirk. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s just some crazy phase he’s going through. You’ll figure it out eventually. You always do.”

Mikan chuckled, shaking her head. “I don’t think it’s anything that exciting. Probably just... a neighbor who keeps to himself. But it’s so weird, you know? Like there’s some hidden thing about them.”

Hotaru shot her a knowing look. “Oh, here we go again,” she said, leaning forward. “The mysterious vibes. But Mikan, I’m telling you—it’s probably nothing. Just your imagination running wild. He’s probably just a guy who likes his privacy. And maybe... just maybe, you’ll catch him talking to you one day, and it’ll be normal.”

Mikan sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “I guess we’ll see.”

One crisp September morning, Mikan was making her way to work, her bag slung casually over her shoulder and her headphone in place, when something caught her eye. Just a few streets away from her building, standing in the shadow of a quiet alley, was the man in black.

He wasn’t alone this time.

Beside him stood another man, blond-haired with striking violet eyes, dressed in black trousers and a white short-sleeved shirt. They were speaking in low voices, too far for Mikan to hear, but her steps slowed instinctively. Something about the scene felt oddly familiar.

And then it hit her like a bolt of lightning.

Mikan’s mind flashed back to the chaotic chase she had witnessed a few months ago—the blond man racing down the street, disappearing around a corner. But what stood out even more sharply in her memory was the man he had been pursuing. Black hair, a hood partially obscuring his face, but the detail she couldn’t forget... his red eyes.

Mikan’s heart skipped a beat. She lingered for just a moment longer, trying to get a better look at the pair before they turned and walked deeper into the alley, disappearing from view. She stared after them, her thoughts whirling.

Was it him? Could it be?

The more Mikan thought about it on her way to the station, the more her mind raced. She thought about the way the man in black always carried himself—quiet, mysterious, and yet oddly familiar. She thought about Hotaru’s teasing theory, ridiculous and far-fetched at the time: What if he’s Kuro Neko?

Mikan laughed softly to herself as the memory of Hotaru’s smirk came to mind. It still seemed absurd... and yet, the image of those red eyes lingered, as vivid as ever. She didn’t know many people—if any—who dressed as if they were trying to hide in plain sight, especially during the heat of summer. And now, with the memory of the chase resurfacing, the pieces began to connect in her mind.

What if?

Her steps quickened as she made her way to work, her curiosity now fully ablaze. Maybe her neighbor, Luca, and his enigmatic companion weren’t as mundane as they seemed. What if Luca was friends with Kuro Neko? Or... more than friends?

The idea made her chuckle out loud, drawing a few puzzled looks from strangers on the street. But the more she turned it over in her head, the less impossible it seemed. She decided she would have to tell Hotaru about this latest encounter. After all, her friend would undoubtedly have a lot to say—and maybe, just maybe, they’d be one step closer to solving the mystery of her intriguing neighbors.

As Mikan reached the office, she couldn’t help but smile to herself. Her quiet life was suddenly starting to feel like something out of a drama. And, if nothing else, the mystery of Luca and the man in black was certainly making her days a lot more interesting.

Chapter Text

That evening, Mikan’s flat was transformed into a makeshift investigation headquarters. Plates from their hastily eaten dinner sat pushed to the side as Mikan and Hotaru huddled over Mikan’s laptop, surrounded by hastily scribbled notes on scrap paper. The air buzzed with a mix of determination and giddy amusement as they pieced together the events of the last few months.

“Okay,” Hotaru began, adjusting her glasses with a smirk. “Let’s summarize. We’ve got a mysterious chase, a man in black who could be Kuro Neko, and now, thanks to your eagle eyes, a blond guy who matches the description of Narumi Anju, Kuro Neko’s manager.” She tapped a finger against her chin dramatically. “It’s like we’re living in a thriller.”

Mikan leaned back on the sofa, clutching a pillow to her chest. “But it doesn’t make sense, does it? I mean, what would Kuro Neko and his manager be doing here, of all places? And why would they...” She hesitated, then continued in a quieter voice. “...why would they be neighbors with me?”

Hotaru gave her a deadpan look. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s probably just a coincidence. Famous people do have to live somewhere, you know.” She paused for effect. “Although, if you want my honest opinion...” Her voice took on a teasing edge. “...maybe Kuro Neko did recognize you from the album signing.”

Mikan’s face turned bright red, and she buried it in the pillow. “Hotaru! Stop making it sound so ridiculous!”

But Hotaru wasn’t finished. “Think about it,” she pressed, her smirk widening. “If that man in black is Kuro Neko, maybe he was freaked out to see one of his overly enthusiastic fans living right next door. I mean, you did stare at him pretty intensely at the event, didn’t you?”

“That’s not true!” Mikan exclaimed, her voice muffled by the pillow. “I was completely normal! I didn’t say anything weird... I think.”

Hotaru’s chuckle turned into outright laughter. “Sure, sure. Normal. And now he’s probably told Luca to keep an eye on you. Maybe that’s why they avoid you more than me.”

Mikan sat up abruptly, glaring at her friend. “That’s insane, Hotaru! You’re making me sound like a stalker or something!”

Hotaru raised an eyebrow. “Am I, though? Who’s the one keeping detailed notes on her neighbors and googling their potential identities?”

Mikan groaned, her cheeks still burning. “I only started because you planted the idea in my head! And besides,” she added, glancing at the laptop screen, “I’m sure his eyes were black. Not red. Unless...”

“Unless he wears contacts,” Hotaru finished for her, leaning forward with a sly smile. “Which he absolutely could. And honestly, the idea of Kuro Neko running around in disguise with his manager chasing after him? It’s almost too ridiculous to believe.”

The two girls exchanged a glance, and for a moment, the weight of their “discovery” hung in the air. Then, as if on cue, they both burst out laughing. It was absurd, absolutely absurd—and yet, the more they thought about it, the harder it became to dismiss the possibility.

When their laughter finally subsided, Mikan sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Okay, even if this theory is totally crazy, it doesn’t explain why he’d be here. And what about Luca? He’s clearly involved somehow.”

Hotaru nodded, her expression thoughtful. “That’s the real mystery. If they are who we think they are, what are they doing living here, of all places? And why does Luca act so... distant?”

Mikan hugged the pillow tighter, her mind whirling. “Maybe we’re overthinking this,” she muttered, though even she didn’t sound convinced.

Hotaru grinned, picking up one of the notes they’d scribbled earlier. “Overthinking or not, this is the most excitement we’ve had in months. Let’s keep digging.”

And with that, the girls dove back into their investigation, half-convinced they were onto something and half-laughing at the absurdity of it all.

The night stretched on as Mikan and Hotaru continued their "investigation," poring over every detail they could recall. Between online searches, their scribbled notes, and endless joking theories, the hours ticked by unnoticed. When Mikan finally glanced at the clock, it was well past midnight.

"Hotaru," she groaned, rubbing her eyes, "we should stop. I’m not sure if we’re solving a mystery or just fueling our own ridiculous fantasies."

Hotaru smirked, closing the laptop with a satisfied click. "Ridiculous or not, it’s entertaining. Besides, I think we’ve gathered enough ‘evidence’ for tonight."

Mikan rolled her eyes as Hotaru stretched, casually pulling a folded pair of pajamas from Mikan’s wardrobe. "Wait," Mikan said, stifling a laugh, "you planned to stay the night?"

"Obviously," Hotaru replied, deadpan. "I knew you’d be too engrossed in this to kick me out, and I'm too lazy to cross the corridor."

Too tired to argue, Mikan simply chuckled. "Fine, but no stealing the blanket this time."

The next morning, the two girls woke groggy but satisfied with their late-night sleuthing. Over a quick breakfast, they recapped their findings, which only led to more giggles about their increasingly wild theories.

As they finished eating, Hotaru glanced at the clock and stood. "Alright, time to make myself presentable before the neighbors catch me in these." She gestured to her slightly mismatched pajamas with a look of mock horror.

Mikan followed her to the door, still laughing. "You’re acting like Luca and his mysterious friend are waiting to pounce and judge you."

Hotaru smirked, peeking into the corridor before darting across to her flat like a secret agent. "No one saw me," she called back triumphantly.

Mikan leaned against the doorframe, shaking her head with a grin. "You’re impossible."

After Hotaru disappeared into her flat, Mikan took her time getting ready for work. She chose a dress, tied her hair back, and gathered her belongings, still feeling the weight of last night’s lack of sleep.

As she locked her door and headed out, she stifled a yawn. The day ahead at the jewelry shop promised to be busy, but all Mikan could think about was crashing into bed when she got home.

Still, as she walked to work, a smile tugged at her lips. Despite the late night, she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed these silly adventures with Hotaru—it made life in their little building all the more entertaining.

In the days that followed, Mikan couldn't help but notice the man in black whenever she passed him in the building. He seemed to appear at the oddest times—leaving Luca's flat late at night, standing in the corner of the lobby while checking his phone, or even once stepping out of the lift just as she was about to step in.

But now, Mikan had made a decision: no more investigating. The thought of discovering he was actually Kuro Neko sent a mix of excitement and dread through her. She didn’t want to ruin the mystery—or worse, embarrass herself if she was wrong.

She settled into a pattern of polite avoidance. Whenever she saw him, she offered a quick smile and a "Good evening" or "Hello," but she kept it short and sweet. No lingering stares, no friendly small talk. She actively avoided making eye contact, fearing that if their gazes met, she'd recognize something she wasn’t ready to handle.

Hotaru, of course, wasn’t about to let Mikan off the hook so easily.

"You’re really just ignoring him now?" Hotaru asked one evening, sprawled out on Mikan's sofa while scrolling on her tablet.

"I’m not ignoring him," Mikan protested, tidying up the coffee table. "I’m just... keeping things normal. Friendly but distant."

Hotaru smirked. "You mean awkwardly avoiding him. If he is Kuro Neko, don’t you think he’ll notice how weird you’re acting?"

Mikan groaned, plopping down next to her. "Don’t remind me. If it is him, I don’t want to come across as some obsessive fan. If it’s not, I don’t want to seem like I’m crazy.”

Hotaru didn’t respond immediately, her focus shifting back to her screen. "Hmm. Well, if I were him, I’d probably find your awkwardness endearing. Like a puppy trying to hide a bone in plain sight."

"Gee, thanks," Mikan muttered, throwing a cushion at her friend.

Despite their jokes, Mikan stuck to her plan. Every time she saw the man in black, she gave him just enough of a greeting to be polite, then hurried on her way. And every time, a tiny part of her heart pounded nervously, as if daring her to confront the truth she wasn’t ready to face.

Mikan shifted uncomfortably in the corner of the lift, clutching her bag tightly as the familiar presence of the man in black loomed next to her. It had been days since she had begun her "polite distance" strategy, but somehow, it seemed to backfire. She was seeing him more than ever—around the building, entering or leaving Luca's flat, or in the lift like now.

She glanced sideways, just briefly, and noticed that he was standing with his arms crossed, his hood pushed back slightly, revealing more of his face. He wasn’t looking at her, but there was something about his posture—less withdrawn, more attentive—that made her heart skip a beat.

Mikan told herself, It’s not him. It’s just a coincidence.

But the coincidences were piling up. He was around too often for it to be random. He wasn't on tour at the time, nor in another city, she’d checked—multiple times and even though it bothered her greatly. Yet here he was, a man with black hair, dressed as if he were hiding something, and occasionally, just occasionally, those black eyes would lock with hers, holding a depth that felt unsettlingly familiar.

She glanced up again, just in time to catch him looking at her. Not a long, lingering stare, but a fleeting moment of eye contact, enough to send her heart into a panicked flutter. Mikan immediately dropped her gaze to her shoes, her cheeks heating up.

She mentally scolded herself. Stop being so obvious, Mikan! But how could she not be? Every small interaction felt magnified under the weight of her suspicions.

As the lift dinged to a halt at her floor, she muttered a quick, "Good night," and darted out before he could respond. Her pace quickened down the corridor, desperate to put space between herself and her thoughts.

But even as she closed the door to her flat behind her, her mind raced.

If he was Kuro Neko, what was he doing here? Why would he be visiting Luca so often? Could they really be... friends? Or even something more? Hotaru’s joking theory rang in her head, and she shook it off quickly.

Mikan flopped onto her sofa with a groan.

"Why is this happening to me?" she whispered to the empty room, pressing a cushion against her face to muffle her frustration.

Yet, deep down, a part of her—the curious, daring side—wasn’t entirely unhappy about it. For better or worse, she was getting closer to a truth she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

The evening had finally arrived, and Mikan stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her pink dress nervously. It wasn’t often that she dressed up, but tonight was a special occasion. She and Hotaru were going out to meet Nonoko and Anna for dinner—a long-overdue reunion since their last outing to the amusement park.

"You look fine," Hotaru’s voice called from the living room, where she was waiting.

"Fine isn’t enough," Mikan grumbled, smoothing her dress one last time before stepping out.

Hotaru gave her a once-over and nodded approvingly. "Fine, you look good. Now let’s go, or we’ll be late."

The two left the flat and made their way to the lift. As they waited, Mikan tugged at her dress nervously, trying to distract herself from the creeping tension in her stomach. She and Hotaru had agreed not to mention the situation in the building tonight. After all, the less said, the better.

The lift doors opened, and the two stepped inside, only for Hotaru to press the button to hold the doors open as Luca and the man in black appeared down the hallway.

"Good timing," Hotaru remarked coolly, glancing at Mikan with a look that screamed ‘this will be interesting.’

Mikan immediately retreated to the far corner of the lift, clutching her handbag like it was a shield. She didn’t dare look at either of them, though she could feel the man in black’s presence like a weight in the small space.

"Thanks," Luca said quietly as he and his companion stepped in. He stood near the buttons, while the man in black took the opposite corner, right next to Mikan.

Mikan risked a quick glance at him. As always, he was looking at his phone, the glow of the screen lighting up his face faintly. His fringe fell just enough to cover his eyes, as if he were deliberately avoiding being recognized.

Hotaru, unbothered as usual, stood casually in the last corner, her posture relaxed. The atmosphere in the lift was thick with unspoken tension—or maybe that was just Mikan’s overactive imagination.

When the lift finally reached the ground floor, Mikan nearly sighed with relief. The doors slid open, and she practically leapt out, Hotaru following at a more composed pace.

"Have a good evening," Luca said politely as he and the man in black walked in the opposite direction.

Hotaru nodded in acknowledgment, her lips quirking in amusement.

Mikan let out a discreet sigh of relief as she and Hotaru stepped out of the building. The evening air was cool and refreshing, a welcome change from the stifling tension in the lift. Hotaru glanced at her friend, her lips twitching into a smirk.

"You looked like you were about to suffocate in there," she teased, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

"How could I not?" Mikan groaned, keeping her voice low as they walked toward the station. "It’s like they’re everywhere now. And he just… stands there, all mysterious and intimidating!"

Hotaru chuckled, clearly amused by Mikan’s distress. "Well, it’s not like they’re following you. You just have really bad luck with timing."

Mikan shot her a glare, but it didn’t last long. She knew Hotaru was right, even if the situation still felt impossible.

By the time they reached the station, the conversation had shifted to lighter topics. Mikan was grateful for the distraction, focusing instead on what promised to be a fun evening with their friends.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Nonoko and Anna were already waiting outside, waving enthusiastically as they spotted them.

"Finally!" Anna exclaimed, pulling Mikan into a quick hug before turning to Hotaru. "You two are always so fashionable. It’s annoying."

"You’re just jealous," Hotaru replied smoothly, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she smirked.

Nonoko laughed. "Come on, let’s get inside before they give our table away."

The four of them entered the cozy restaurant, the warm lighting and soft hum of chatter immediately putting Mikan at ease. They were shown to their table near a window, and as they settled in, the laughter and conversation began to flow effortlessly.

For the first time in weeks, Mikan felt like she could forget about the strange tension in her building and just enjoy herself. The food was delicious, the company even better, and by the time dessert arrived, she was laughing so hard at Anna’s exaggerated impressions of her colleagues that she nearly knocked over her drink.

It was exactly what she needed.

As they left the restaurant later that night, Nonoko and Anna walked ahead, deep in conversation about some upcoming event, while Mikan and Hotaru lingered behind.

"Feel better now?" Hotaru asked, nudging her lightly.

"Much," Mikan admitted with a smile. "Thanks for not letting me spiral into paranoia."

"Anytime," Hotaru replied, grinning. "But just so you know, I’m still keeping tabs on Luca and his mysterious friend. We’ll figure it out eventually."

Mikan groaned but couldn’t suppress a laugh. "You’re incorrigible."

"And you love me for it," Hotaru said smugly.

As they made their way back to the station, Mikan felt lighter than she had in days. Even with all the unanswered questions swirling around her, she knew she could count on her friends to keep her grounded—and that was more than enough for now.

Yet, nothing could have prepared the girls for this moment.

After another evening of dining at Mikan's flat—the umpteenth time this month—it was becoming a joke that they might as well be roommates. Hotaru had teased her about it earlier, saying she’d just leave a toothbrush at Mikan’s place to make it official.

Now, the evening was winding down. Mikan stood in the corridor with Hotaru, their laughter spilling into the quiet hallway as they shared yet another wild theory about the mysterious man in black. Hotaru was finally making her way to her own flat, but Mikan had other plans.

“Wait, you can’t leave yet,” Mikan said with a grin, grabbing Hotaru’s wrist and pretending to be affected by her departure.

Hotaru raised an eyebrow, her usual deadpan expression tinged with amusement. “Mikan, let me go. Unless you want me to sleep with you?”

“You can’t just abandon me with these conspiracy theories hanging in the air,” Mikan replied dramatically, earning a rare chuckle from her friend.

But then, Mikan heard it. The sound of a door opening.

Her heart sank as she registered the door to Luca’s flat creaking open. In an instant, she was painfully aware of her current state—barefoot in the corridor, dressed in her pajamas, clinging to Hotaru’s wrist like a child throwing a tantrum.

Time slowed. Her grip on Hotaru’s hand went slack as Luca stepped out into the hallway, followed by the man in black.

The two boys froze mid-step, their gazes falling on the pair of women in the corridor.

Mikan’s cheeks burned. She quickly released Hotaru’s wrist, awkwardly smoothing her hair as she stammered, “Uh… good evening! I hope we didn’t disturb you!”

Hotaru, ever the picture of composure, held back a laugh, though her lips twitched with the effort. She gave Luca a polite nod, looking for all the world as if this was a completely normal situation.

Luca returned the gesture with a small smile, his usual reserved demeanor intact. Beside him, the man in black tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching in a subtle smirk behind his mask as he glanced between the two girls.

“Good evening,” Luca said softly.

The man in black offered a low, amused chuckle. It wasn’t mocking—just a quiet, restrained laugh that somehow made Mikan’s embarrassment ten times worse.

“Well, we should, um… get going,” Mikan said hurriedly, nudging Hotaru toward her door as if to speed up the process of disappearing.

Hotaru cast one last amused glance at Mikan before finally unlocking her flat. She slipped inside with a knowing smile, leaving Mikan to retreat quickly to her own flat, cheeks still warm from the encounter.

Mikan leaned against her door, taking a deep breath to calm the rush of embarrassment coursing through her. Hotaru was probably laughing on the other side of the wall right now, savoring the moment. Mikan groaned quietly, burying her face in her hands.

She replayed the scene in her head, cringing at how ridiculous she must have looked—barefoot, in pajamas, clinging to Hotaru like a child. And then there was him, the man in black, with that faint smirk of amusement, that she imagined him to have behind the mask.

“Why does this keep happening?” she muttered to herself, sliding down the door to sit on the floor.

A few moments later, her phone buzzed. She knew without looking that it was Hotaru.

*You really outdid yourself tonight. Should I start a diary of ‘Mikan’s Most Embarrassing Corridor Moments’?*

Mikan rolled her eyes and typed back.

*I hate you.*

The reply came almost instantly.

*No, you don’t. Goodnight, pajama queen.*

Mikan groaned again but couldn’t suppress a small smile. She tossed her phone onto the couch and decided to focus on getting ready for bed.

But even as she brushed her teeth and changed into another set of pajamas, her mind kept wandering back to that brief moment in the corridor. She could still hear the man in black’s low chuckle, and it made her stomach flip for reasons she couldn’t quite explain.

She paused, staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “No. Stop it,” she told herself firmly. “This is getting ridiculous.”

The next morning, Mikan woke up determined to put the whole thing behind her. She got ready for work as usual, packing her bag and mentally preparing herself for a busy day at the jewelry shop.

After that mortifying encounter in the corridor, Mikan made a firm decision: she would avoid Luca and the man in black at all costs. No more awkward lift rides, no more lingering glances, and absolutely no more embarrassing late-night pajama incidents.

Her solution? The stairs.

It didn’t matter that she lived on the third floor. It didn’t matter that the stairs were narrow, old, and dimly lit. It didn’t even matter that she had to leave her flat five minutes earlier each morning to account for the extra effort. Anything was better than facing those two boys in the lift again.

The first morning of her new plan was grueling. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, slightly out of breath, she made a mental note to work on her cardio. Still, she felt a small sense of victory when she passed the lift doors and didn’t see either of them.

The next few days followed the same pattern. She would tiptoe out of her flat, peek down the corridor to ensure it was empty, and then dart toward the stairwell. It was exhausting, but it worked. She hadn’t seen them once.

But, of course, life had other plans.

One evening, after a particularly tiring day at the jewelry shop, Mikan trudged home, her bag feeling heavier than usual. She opened the door to the stairwell, ready for the climb, when she heard familiar voices coming from above. Her heart sank.

Luca and the man in black were walking down the stairs, talking softly at something. Mikan froze in place, trapped between the open door and her plan to escape.

Why? she thought desperately. Why are they using the stairs? They always take the lift!

The two men rounded the corner, and there was no avoiding it. Luca spotted her first, smiling in polite surprise.

“Oh, good evening, Mikan,” he said, his tone as calm as ever.

Mikan plastered on a shaky smile. “Good evening,” she managed, clutching her bag like a lifeline.

The man in black gave her a slight nod, his expression unreadable. But was that a flicker of amusement in his eyes?

As they passed her, Mikan could feel her cheeks burning. She practically sprinted up the remaining stairs, muttering to herself the entire way.

“Why me? Why always me?” she groaned, collapsing against her door once she reached her flat.

She had learned an important lesson: no matter how much effort she put into avoiding them, fate—or perhaps her own terrible luck—had other ideas.

Speaking of destiny, Mikan was now pretty sure that the man in black from her building was none other than Kuro Neko. But even now, after all the signs and clues, she still couldn’t quite believe it. Her favorite singer… living next door? That was a thought she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

It wasn’t until she started paying more attention to his schedule that the pieces really fell into place. Every time Kuro Neko had a live performance or event, Mikan never saw him in the lift or the hallways. It was as if he disappeared completely during those times, leaving her to wonder how she could have been so blind.

The final blow came during one of Kuro Neko's Instagram lives. Mikan had been casually scrolling through her feed when she saw the notification, and something told her to click on it. When the live video loaded, her breath caught in her throat.

The apartment behind him—it was unmistakably the same layout as hers. She could see the open kitchen, the sleek furniture, and even the little touches in the decor. It was like her place. Luca’s apartment was the same.

And then, her eyes locked onto the t-shirt he was wearing. The exact same one she had seen him in one day in the hallway. A simple, black shirt with a tiny logo on the front. How could she have missed it before?

Mikan’s heart started racing, but a sense of disbelief still lingered. No way. She had to be imagining things. Her favorite singer, Kuro Neko, was eating right next door to her—in the same building, for goodness sake!

But then it hit her: the most embarrassing thing she’d ever experienced in her life. He’d seen her in her pajamas. The day she’d been standing in the hallway, desperately trying to avoid Hotaru’s laughter while looking completely ridiculous in her small dots pajamas, he’d been right there. In front of her. She’d been so embarrassed then, and now... knowing that he was Kuro Neko made it even worse.

How was she supposed to act around him now? Every time she bumped into him, she’d have this mental image of her standing in the hallway looking like a mess. Mikan couldn’t even imagine what to do next. How could she possibly pretend like everything was normal?

Chapter Text

Mikan couldn’t keep it in any longer. As the realization settled in that the man in black was indeed Kuro Neko, or Natsume Hyuga, her favorite singer, a flood of emotions overwhelmed her. She was sure of it now, there was no denying it. But it didn’t make the situation any better—in fact, it made everything worse. She felt like her entire world had been turned upside down.

Next night, Mikan invited Hotaru over to her flat, trying to distract herself with their usual hangout, but it wasn’t working. As soon as Hotaru stepped into the room, Mikan was on the verge of exploding. She could barely hold it in any longer.

“Hotaru,” Mikan started, flopping onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “I’m ruined.” She buried her face in her hands, groaning. “You have no idea what I’ve done.”

Hotaru raised an eyebrow, looking both intrigued and a little amused. “What are you talking about now?”

“I made a complete fool of myself in front of him, okay?!” Mikan practically wailed, her voice cracking with frustration. “The man in black... Kuro Neko... I’ve literally seen him at least a dozen times now, and I didn’t know! And now I’m sure it’s him! And he’s... right next door! And I—I—was in my pajamas when we met in the hallway! He must think I’m some crazy fan who doesn’t even know how to dress properly!”

Hotaru blinked, taking a second to process all of this. And then, without missing a beat, she started laughing.

“You—” Hotaru snorted. “Oh my god, Mikan. You are dramatic. He probably doesn’t even remember what you were wearing, you know. I’m sure he’s seen way worse.”

“But I remember,” Mikan shot back, half laughing and half groaning. “And every time I see him, I feel like I’m going to die. He knows what I look like without makeup, without anything! It’s like my life is a disaster now.”

Hotaru leaned back, crossing her arms as she smirked at Mikan. “You’re taking this way too seriously. So what if he’s a famous singer? He’s just a guy, Mikan. And trust me, he probably didn’t even notice you that much.”

Mikan groaned, throwing herself back against the couch. “I can’t believe you’re still making light of this. You don’t understand how much of an idiot I look like! And you, Hotaru, are way too good at theorizing. You’ve got this whole thing figured out like it's some drama series, and I’m stuck in it, in real life!”

Hotaru raised an eyebrow playfully. “I’m just saying, maybe stop obsessing about it. Stop making it bigger than it is. But hey, I’ll let you off easy, for now, since it’s clearly messing with your head.”

Mikan couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “I swear, if you ever come up with another crazy theory, I’m going to lose it.” She shook her head, feeling both embarrassed and a little lighter. “But seriously, Hotaru, this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around him now.”

Hotaru gave her a sympathetic look before shrugging. “Well, it’s not like you have a choice, do you? You are in the same building as him now. Just... act normal. You’re not the only one who’s seen him.”

Mikan groaned again. “Normal? How can I act normal when I’m practically going to die of embarrassment every time I see him?”

“Just try,” Hotaru said, throwing an arm around Mikan's shoulders and giving her a reassuring squeeze. “If anything, you’ll get used to it. And who knows? Maybe you’ll get an autograph out of this one day.”

Mikan gave a half-smile, feeling a little better but still unsure about how to handle her now very awkward situation. She couldn’t deny it anymore. Kuro Neko, her favorite singer, was right next door—and she had already made a complete mess of it.

Days passed, and the routine between Mikan and the man in black remained largely the same. After her initial embarrassment subsided, she reluctantly gave up on taking the stairs. It was exhausting, and, truthfully, pointless. Encounters with him in the lift became inevitable, but they were brief and uneventful. Mikan would manage a polite "hello" or "good evening," to which he would not respond before they each went on their way.

By now, October had arrived, and the crisp autumn air brought with it a certain coziness that Mikan welcomed. She had finally taken a week of holiday to rest and recharge after a hectic month at work. The thought of no alarms and no deadlines for a few days filled her with relief.

That Saturday evening, as the clock struck closing time at the jewelry store, Mikan bid her colleague Ichigo a cheerful goodbye. “Good luck!” she called as she waved, already feeling lighter at the prospect of her break.

Ichigo laughed, adjusting her scarf. “Thanks, Mikan! Enjoy your holiday!”

With that, Mikan stepped out into the cool evening air, her pace relaxed as she headed toward the subway station. The streets were alive with the quiet bustle of people heading home for the weekend, and the scent of roasted chestnuts from a nearby food stall filled the air.

The subway ride home was uneventful, the familiar sway of the train lulling her into a peaceful daze. When her stop arrived, she stepped onto the platform, already planning her weekend of relaxation.

Before heading home, Mikan decided to stop at the small convenience store near her apartment. She wandered through the aisles, grabbing a few essentials for the weekend: instant noodles, a bag of rice crackers, some fruit, and a tub of ice cream for a well-deserved treat. She hesitated at the drinks section before picking out a bottle of tea and, on a whim, a small carton of milk for the cat that sometimes wandered near her building.

As she placed her items on the counter, the cashier greeted her with a warm smile. Mikan returned it, feeling content as she paid and stepped back into the night.

With her bag of groceries in hand, she headed back toward her apartment, her thoughts drifting to how she would spend her week off. A quiet weekend at home sounded like the perfect start.

Sunday arrived, and Mikan embraced the quiet solitude of her apartment. The first morning of her holiday, she brewed herself a cup of tea and stood at the window, watching as the golden sunlight filtered through the trees outside. It felt refreshing not to have any plans or responsibilities pressing on her for once.

Determined to make the most of her free time, Mikan decided to tackle some long-overdue cleaning. She tied her hair into a messy bun, put on an old t-shirt and sweatpants, and got to work. Armed with a broom and a mop, she started in the living room, wiping down surfaces, dusting shelves, and organizing the small pile of books that had accumulated near her coffee table.

As she worked, she put on Kuro Neko’s music, letting the familiar melodies fill the space. His deep, velvety voice had always been a source of comfort for her, and today was no different. She hummed along to the lyrics, feeling a small pang of irony at how much she still idolized him, even with the bizarre possibility that he might actually be next door.

By the afternoon, Mikan had moved on to her bedroom. While folding some clothes and tidying her desk, her gaze lingered on the wall where her Kuro Neko posters were proudly displayed. She walked over and stood before them, her hands on her hips.

The main poster was one of her favorites: a close-up of Kuro Neko from his last album photoshoot, his striking red eyes and sharp features accentuated by the moody lighting. She stared at it for a long moment, her mind wandering.

"The eyes," she muttered to herself. "They really do look similar."

The realization made her stomach flutter uneasily. The man in black’s eyes weren’t red—they were black, plain and simple. But there was something about their shape, their intensity, that was undeniably familiar. Mikan leaned in closer, studying the poster as if it held the answers to her questions.

“No,” she said aloud, shaking her head and stepping back. “I can't believe it.”

Still, she couldn’t shake the thought as she finished cleaning and settled down on the sofa later that evening. With a bowl of instant noodles in hand and Kuro Neko’s voice still playing softly in the background, Mikan felt a strange mix of amusement and anxiety.

Mikan sighed as she slouched deeper into the couch, still lost in her swirling thoughts.

Trying to brush aside the unsettling realization, she decided to focus on her usual routine. Monday was her regular day off, so staying home wasn’t much of a change. She planned to spend the morning catching up on some reading and tidying the little mess left from her weekend cleaning spree.

By Tuesday afternoon, she realized she was running low on groceries. It was a typical errand, nothing out of the ordinary. She grabbed her tote bag and slipped on her shoes, ready to head out for a quick trip to the supermarket.

The walk was uneventful, the streets calm as the last of the afternoon sun warmed the air. She picked up some essentials—vegetables, rice, snacks, and a few drinks—and made her way back, humming softly to herself.

But as she entered the building, Mikan’s heart skipped a beat as the lift doors opened and out stepped the man in black. She barely glanced at him at first, determined to keep things polite and brief as usual. But then her eyes caught his, and she froze.

His lenses were gone.

Her mind scrambled to process the realization. Those red pupils were unmistakable. They were the exact shade she’d admired countless times in posters, music videos, and performances. Without thinking, the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“Why did you forget your lenses?”

The man stopped mid-step, his expression flickering with surprise. He stared at her, clearly caught off guard by her sudden question.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, with a heavy sigh, he took his phone out of his pocket. His gaze dropped on his screen, and he muttered something under his breath, too low for Mikan to catch.

Before she could say anything more, he turned abruptly and strode out of the building, his long strides carrying him away quickly. His movements were brisk, almost tense, as if her words had unsettled him.

Mikan stood there, groceries in hand, completely baffled. That… was not the reaction I was expecting.

She lingered for a moment, replaying the scene in her head. The man in black had always seemed so composed, so confident, even a little aloof. But the way he’d sighed and grumbled—it felt almost vulnerable. Almost human.

Well, of course he’s human, she thought, shaking her head as she resumed her climb up the stairs. But it’s strange to see him like that.

As she unlocked the door to her flat, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. She hadn’t meant to pry, but she’d clearly struck a nerve. She set her groceries down and sighed.

“Maybe Hotaru was right,” she muttered to herself. “I really do need to think before I speak.”

Later that evening, Mikan and Hotaru were back in their usual spot—Mikan’s cozy flat, the faint smell of food wafting through the air as the two girls sat at the small dining table. Mikan had been recounting the bizarre encounter from earlier in the day, gesturing animatedly while Hotaru listened, her expression unreadable as always.

“...and then he just sighed like he was completely done with me,” Mikan groaned, stabbing at her plate with her chopsticks. “And left without saying anything! I mean, what kind of reaction is that? I didn’t think my question was that shocking!”

Hotaru raised an eyebrow, slowly sipping her tea. “You asked him why he forgot his lenses. To his face. Out of nowhere. What did you think was going to happen? Applause?”

Mikan pouted. “I didn’t mean to! It just… slipped out. I was surprised, okay? But his reaction was so strange. He seemed... I don’t know, off. Like, not at all how I imagined someone like him would act.”

Hotaru set her teacup down with a soft clink and gave Mikan a pointed look. “Mikan, for someone who spends so much time thinking about him, you really don’t understand how exhausting it must be to keep up appearances all the time.”

Mikan blinked. “What do you mean?”

Hotaru sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Celebrities aren’t gods. They’re human, just like the rest of us. They have bad days, they get annoyed, and sometimes they can’t be bothered to deal with nosy neighbors asking them about their eyewear.”

“I wasn’t being nosy!” Mikan protested, her cheeks flushing.

Hotaru gave her a deadpan look. “You were absolutely being nosy. But that’s beside the point. If he really is Kuro Neko—and at this point, it’s hard to argue otherwise—then he’s probably not used to someone like you. Most people either fawn over him or keep their distance. You’re the first person to casually call him out in the hallway.”

Mikan groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Great. So now he thinks I’m some weirdo who can’t mind her own business. My life is officially over.”

Hotaru smirked, picking up a piece of sushi from her plate. “I wouldn’t say it’s over. Just... complicated. And honestly, it’s kind of fun watching you dig this hole for yourself.”

“Hotaru!” Mikan wailed, but her best friend only shrugged, clearly enjoying her distress.

“You’ll survive,” Hotaru said calmly. “But next time, try thinking before you speak. Or don’t—this is far more entertaining.”

Mikan let out a dramatic sigh, slumping over the table. “I’m doomed.”

Hotaru’s smirk widened. “Maybe. But at least you’re feeding me dinner while it happens.”

Mikan's holiday had come to an end, and she was back to her usual routine at work. Life had settled into a predictable rhythm, yet something lingered at the back of her mind. It had been two weeks since she’d last seen the man in black, and the absence hadn’t gone unnoticed.

She and Hotaru had discussed it over dinner one evening, theorizing about his disappearance. Hotaru reasoned that he was likely busy with work, but Mikan couldn’t shake the feeling that the timing was suspicious. It was possible—though she hated to think it—that he was avoiding the building altogether, perhaps wary that his identity might slip out among the residents.

Still, Mikan reassured herself that only she, Hotaru, and presumably Luca, knew the truth. There was no reason for him to think otherwise.

Two weeks and a few days later, however, the man in black reappeared. This time, he was wearing his lenses, the dark veil back over his distinct eyes.

It was a long day at work when Mikan found herself waiting for the lift to take her up to her floor. The sound of approaching footsteps drew her attention, and she turned slightly to see him—tall, quiet, and unmistakable—coming to stand beside her.

Mikan froze. Neither of them said a word as they waited. The air was thick with tension, and Mikan found herself holding her breath when the lift finally arrived.

They stepped inside together, and as the doors closed, the silence between them grew heavier. Just as Mikan thought she could quietly ride up and escape, the man turned toward her, his voice low and firm.

“Did you tell anyone else about me?”

Mikan blinked, startled. “What?”

He exhaled, his gaze sharp and searching. “Have you told anyone else? About who I am?”

His question caught her off guard, and she instinctively shook her head. “No, I haven’t. I only told my friend Hotaru. She... figured it out with me.”

His jaw tightened, and he sighed, looking away briefly before meeting her gaze again. “Do you plan on saying anything? To anyone else?”

Mikan was taken aback by the weight of his tone, but she answered honestly, her voice steady despite her nerves. “No. I haven’t, and I won’t.”

He studied her for a long moment, his black-tinted lenses obscuring any hint of what he might be thinking. Finally, he sighed and straightened his posture, no longer leaning against the lift wall. “Good.”

The lift dinged, signaling their floor. Mikan stepped out quickly, her heart racing as she tried to put some distance between them. She heard his quiet footsteps behind her, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him heading toward Luca’s apartment.

Just as he reached the door, he paused, glancing back at her. His voice was low, almost hesitant. “Thank you.”

Mikan froze mid-step, startled by the unexpected gratitude. She turned slightly, but by the time she registered his words, he had already opened Luca’s door and disappeared inside.

She stood in the hallway for a moment, her thoughts swirling. What just happened?

The next day, Mikan was far from prepared for what awaited her. As usual, she collected her mail from the mailbox, sifting through bills, flyers, and the occasional newsletter. But one envelope stood out. It was plain white, without any familiar logos, and addressed to her in a neat, formal handwriting she didn’t recognize.

Curiosity piqued, she opened it immediately. Inside was a letter printed on sleek, professional stationery, the logo at the top unmistakable: Alice Talent Agency—Kuro Neko's label.

Her eyes widened as she read the contents, her heart pounding louder with every word. The letter was a summons, requesting her and Hotaru's presence at the agency's offices for a meeting. No details were provided, but the official tone and the specific mention of Hotaru left her both anxious and bewildered.

Without wasting another moment, Mikan grabbed her phone and sent Hotaru a hurried message:

Mikan: You need to come to my place ASAP after work.

Sliding her phone back into her pocket, she paced nervously around her apartment, clutching the letter tightly. What on earth could they want with her—and why include Hotaru?

When Hotaru arrived at Mikan's apartment later that evening, she looked as composed as ever, though her sharp eyes scanned Mikan's frazzled appearance immediately.

"What’s the emergency?" she asked coolly, slipping off her shoes and setting down her bag.

Mikan didn’t waste time. She thrust the letter toward Hotaru, her hands trembling slightly. "Read this," she said, her voice tinged with both urgency and disbelief.

Hotaru raised an eyebrow but took the letter, unfolding it carefully. Her eyes moved over the text, and her usually impassive expression shifted ever so slightly—her lips pressing into a thin line and her brow furrowing. When she finished, she folded the letter again, handed it back to Mikan, and sat down on the couch, crossing her legs elegantly.

"This is...unexpected," she said finally.

"Unexpected? That’s all you have to say?" Mikan blurted, pacing the room. "Hotaru, why would they—why would Kuro Neko's agency want to see us? What could they possibly want? Did you do something? Did I do something?"

Hotaru gave her a withering look. "You’re spiraling. Stop."

Mikan paused mid-step, clutching the letter like it was a lifeline.

Hotaru sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "If I had to guess, it’s because someone told them about our little...realization regarding the man in black. Maybe they want to make sure you keep quiet."

Mikan's jaw dropped. "But we haven’t said anything to anyone!"

Hotaru shrugged, her calm demeanor infuriatingly unshaken. "Someone must think we know too much."

Mikan sank onto the couch beside her, clutching a pillow to her chest. "This is bad, isn’t it? What if they’re mad? What if they try to sue us or something? Oh no, what if they—"

Hotaru held up a hand to silence her. "First of all, stop being dramatic. They wouldn’t summon us to the agency just to intimidate us. If they really wanted to shut us up, they’d send lawyers, not invitations."

Mikan blinked at her. "Then...what do they want?"

"That’s what we’ll find out," Hotaru said matter-of-factly. "And we’ll deal with it."

Mikan groaned, burying her face in the pillow. "I hate this. Why did this have to happen to us?"

"Because you’re unlucky, and I’m brilliant," Hotaru replied with a smirk.

Mikan glared at her over the pillow. "This is serious, Hotaru!"

"And I’m taking it seriously," Hotaru replied, her tone softening slightly. "We’ll go, we’ll figure out what they want, and we’ll handle it."

Mikan sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Hotaru smirked again, standing up and heading to the kitchen. "You’d probably faint in the lobby of the agency. Now, let’s eat—I think better on a full stomach."

Mikan and Hotaru arrived a few days later at the sleek Alice Talent Agency building feeling both nervous and out of place. The receptionist escorted them to the top floor, where they were ushered into a modern, minimalist office bathed in natural light.

Narumi Anju, Kuro Neko’s manager, greeted them with a charming smile, his platinum-blond hair glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows. He gestured for them to sit in the plush chairs across from his desk.

“Ah, Mikan Sakura and Hotaru Imai,” he began, leaning back in his chair. “Thank you for coming. And, more importantly, thank you for not, well… saying anything.”

Mikan’s cheeks flushed as she stammered, “W-we wouldn’t! I mean, we didn’t—”

Hotaru placed a calming hand on Mikan’s arm, her expression unreadable as always.

Narumi smiled, though his gaze was piercing. “I appreciate that. Truly. You see, keeping Natsume’s identity hidden is a delicate task, and I’m tired of making Luca move every few months. It’s not just inconvenient; it’s costly. Not to mention Natsume going to Luca’s place so often is drawing attention.”

Hotaru folded her arms. “So, what do you want from us?”

Narumi’s smile turned sharper. “Oh, it’s not about what I want. It’s about what you want. Because here’s the deal—I need to ensure your silence. That’s why I’m offering you a contract.”

Mikan blinked. “A contract?”

Narumi nodded, sliding a crisp document across the desk. “This states that you will not disclose Natsume’s identity or whereabouts to anyone. If you breach the terms, the agency will take legal action. However, as a gesture of goodwill, we’re offering you something in return for your cooperation.”

Mikan hesitated, scanning the papers nervously, while Hotaru picked them up and began reading.

“What kind of goodwill?” Hotaru asked without looking up.

Narumi leaned back, his smile softening. “That’s up to you. Tell me what you want.”

Mikan’s jaw dropped. “We don’t—”

Hotaru cut her off smoothly. “Four VIP seats for Kuro Neko’s next concert in Osaka.”

Narumi blinked, visibly taken aback. “Excuse me?”

Hotaru crossed her legs elegantly, her face completely composed. “You heard me. Four VIP seats for the Osaka concert. In exchange, we’ll keep quiet and help if necessary.”

Mikan turned to her, eyes wide. “Hotaru! That’s—”

“Perfectly reasonable,” Hotaru said, giving her a pointed look.

Narumi tilted his head, studying her for a moment before bursting into a hearty laugh. “I like your style, Miss Imai. Direct and efficient.”

Hotaru didn’t flinch, her expression as cool as ever.

Narumi chuckled, clearly amused. “Well, I suppose that’s reasonable. Four tickets it is. But you’ll still need to sign the contract to formalize everything.”

He placed a pen on the table, and Hotaru wasted no time signing her name with a flourish. Mikan hesitated before signing, her nerves getting the better of her.

As they stood to leave, Narumi shook Hotaru’s hand. “You’re sharp, Miss Imai. I respect that.”

Hotaru nodded, ever composed. “We’ll hold up our end of the deal.”

Mikan followed Hotaru out, clutching her copy of the contract like it might bite her. Once they were outside, she turned to her friend, still flustered. “Hotaru, why did you ask for four tickets?”

Hotaru gave her a small smirk. “For Nonoko and Anna.”

Mikan smiled. “You’re right. They will be delighted.”

As November rolled in, bringing with it the crisp chill of autumn, Mikan found herself sinking into a comfortable, familiar routine. The days were growing shorter, and the nights colder, but for Mikan, evenings at home had become her sanctuary. After a long day of work at the jewelry store, she would often retreat to her apartment with a sigh of relief, a cozy blanket, and her favorite tea brewing on the stove.

The evenings had a comforting rhythm to them now, one that revolved around the flickering glow of her TV screen. Mikan’s love for Kuro Neko, her favorite singer, had only deepened since discovering that he was, in fact, her unofficial neighbor. Every night, she would find herself replaying his music videos, interviews, and concert footage on her laptop. The sound of his deep, captivating voice filled the apartment, wrapping her in a warm cocoon of sound, as if he were there with her.

That night, however, she was finally watching something she had been looking forward to for weeks: the DVD of Kuro Neko’s Tokyo concert. She had purchased it as soon as it was released, and tonight felt like the right time to finally unwrap it. The packaging was sleek, black, with a silver logo that gleamed in the dim light of her living room. Mikan set it in the DVD player, anticipation bubbling in her chest as the concert footage began to play.

The opening scene was nothing short of mesmerizing—the crowd’s roar, the lights flashing in every color imaginable, and Kuro Neko stepping onto the stage, bathed in a spotlight. Mikan’s heart skipped a beat. It was a moment she had watched countless times in clips online, but this was different. She was finally experiencing the full performance, and every note he sang felt like it was meant for her.

She leaned back against her couch, completely engrossed in the music, as the concert unfolded. It wasn’t just the songs she loved; it was the entire experience. The way the audience responded to every note, every word Kuro Neko sang—it was infectious. She couldn’t help but smile as she hummed along to the songs she knew by heart, her body swaying to the rhythm.
But even as she was lost in the music, her mind kept drifting back to one thing: the concert in Osaka. Since she had signed the agreement with Kuro Neko’s manager, Narumi, she had been waiting anxiously for the announcement of a concert date.

Mikan was excited, but a little anxious too. The girls would absolutely love the tickets, she knew that for sure. Nonoko, always so full of energy and joy, would probably scream in excitement the moment Mikan handed her the ticket. Anna would likely smile softly, but Mikan could already picture the gleam of excitement in her eyes. It made Mikan’s heart swell with happiness. She couldn’t wait to share this special moment with them, to be able to give them something that would make them as happy as Kuro Neko’s music had made her.

But more than that, it was the thrill of it all. The idea that they would be VIPs at a Kuro Neko concert, something most people could only dream of, felt surreal. It almost didn’t seem real. How could it be? Her favorite singer was right next door. It didn’t seem possible that Mikan, an ordinary girl working at a jewelry store, had this kind of connection to someone so famous.

But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the music, on the magic of Kuro Neko’s voice, and the anticipation of the concert in Osaka. The girls hadn’t been able to meet up in a while, but she knew that once the tickets were secured, it would be the perfect opportunity to gather everyone again. Their schedules had been a challenge to coordinate, but Mikan knew it was worth it. They all had so much to catch up on, and this concert would be the perfect excuse.

The next few weeks were bound to be busy, but the thought of the concert kept Mikan motivated. She smiled to herself as she watched Kuro Neko sing the final notes of the concert. Her heart raced with excitement at the thought of the upcoming event, the memories they’d make, and the joy of sharing this experience with her closest friends.

As the DVD credits rolled, Mikan sat back against the couch, content. It wasn’t just about the music—it was about the connection she felt to something bigger than herself, to the thrill of a shared experience with the people she loved. And for a brief moment, Mikan let herself believe that anything was possible.

After all, who would have thought that her favorite singer would be her neighbor? And that, just maybe, life had a few more surprises waiting for her.

Chapter Text

The days passed in a steady rhythm for Mikan. The mornings began with her usual routine—waking up early to prepare for the day, grabbing a quick breakfast before heading out the door to the jewelry store. It was a typical workday: arranging displays, helping customers with their purchases, and making small talk with the regulars. She was good at her job, but there was something about the routine that comforted her, making it feel like everything was in its proper place.

By now, Mikan had settled into a pattern. The days blurred together, but there was always something to look forward to in the evenings—dinner with Hotaru.

Hotaru had become a steady presence in Mikan’s life. Their dinners together had become a ritual, and though the conversations varied, they always revolved around the same comforting mix of work, life, and everything in between. They would meet at Mikan’s flat, chatting casually over dinner while Mikan shared the latest events from her day. Hotaru, ever the scientist, would talk about her own research or the odd experiments she was conducting in her free time. The air was always light, and the laughter they shared was one of Mikan's favorite parts of the week.

The topic of Kuro Neko still lingered between them sometimes, especially when they talked about their encounters in the building. But Mikan tried to keep things light, not wanting to dwell too much on the odd circumstances surrounding their lift time together. Hotaru didn’t press her for details, though it was clear she was just as curious as Mikan about how things would unfold with the mysterious singer.

When the workweek was over, Mikan would return to her apartment and unwind. Sometimes, she’d slip into the routine of watching Kuro Neko’s performances, but more often than not, her thoughts would wander to the lift and the strange, brief encounters she had with him.

The lift rides had become strangely familiar, as though they were two ordinary neighbors rather than someone as famous as Kuro Neko. The first few times, Mikan had been too flustered to speak much when she saw him, but now, things felt more natural.

Luca, who had always been polite but distant, was the first to change. He no longer kept to himself during their brief lift exchanges. Instead, he would offer small greetings and occasionally even strike up a conversation. It was never anything too deep—just casual comments about the weather or something random that happened in the building—but it was enough to break the ice.

Mikan couldn’t help but feel a little more comfortable around him now, though she still didn’t know what to make of his cryptic, mysterious aura. He was more open now, though, which was a change from the guarded stranger he had been when they first met.

Then there was Kuro Neko.

He was still the same when it came to his usual quiet presence in the building. Mikan would find herself in the lift at times, unsure if she would run into him. But when she did, it was different now. Before, he had always kept his face hidden, his eyes on the screen of his phone, barely acknowledging her presence. Now, there was a slight shift.

Mikan noticed it first when their eyes met during one of their shared lift rides. Kuro Neko didn’t immediately look away, like he had before. Instead, he raised his head from his phone, his eyes locking with hers for a brief moment. It was subtle, but there was something in that glance that made Mikan feel like he was no longer the distant celebrity she had once imagined him to be.

Still, he didn’t say much. He kept his interactions brief, his demeanor as cool and composed as ever. The silence between them wasn’t awkward anymore—more like an unspoken understanding. They’d ride in the lift together, exchange polite nods or small, neutral greetings, and then go their separate ways.

Mikan tried to dismiss the feeling that was growing inside her, but it was harder than she expected. It wasn’t just the quiet moments in the lift or the fleeting exchanges with Kuro Neko that had left her so shaken—it was the way those small interactions had changed the way she saw him. No longer just the famous, enigmatic singer she admired from afar, Kuro Neko was now part of her world in ways that were both thrilling and terrifying.

She couldn’t deny the shift. Every time she saw him now, something inside her stirred—a strange mixture of excitement and anxiety. The more she tried to act like nothing had changed, the more she realized how much it had changed. Before, she had imagined him as a distant figure, a celebrity with his own glamorous life—always busy, always surrounded by people, always living in a world that was impossible to touch. She had pictured him in a penthouse high above the city, partying with other famous faces, surrounded by the hum of luxury and chaos.

But that wasn’t what Kuro Neko was like at all. He was just... normal, in a way. A little more reserved than most people, perhaps, but he was no different from her in some respects. His quiet presence in the lift, his brief moments of eye contact, the fact that he was always by himself—it all spoke of someone who was lonely in his own way, someone who didn't want to be surrounded by adoring fans or the noise of constant parties.

The realization was a hard one to swallow.

Kuro Neko, in all his mystery and fame, was now a part of a small, secret world in Mikan's life—a world she hadn't expected. Every encounter with him felt more and more like a privilege, like a moment that belonged only to them, hidden away from everyone else. It was exhilarating, but it was also terrifying. She had no idea what this shift in their relationship meant, and her mind couldn't help but race with possibilities.

She could no longer look at him like she had before. He wasn’t just a celebrity anymore—he was someone with whom she shared these small moments. It was impossible to ignore how much closer he felt, even if there was still a veil of mystery hanging between them. And that made everything more complicated.

Mikan had to admit to herself that she was afraid of the implications of this shift. She wasn’t just afraid of the fans or the rumors that might spread. She was afraid of how she might feel if this strange connection with Kuro Neko grew deeper. The thought of her life becoming tangled with his, with all the attention and expectations that would follow, was overwhelming. What would people think if they found out she had kept silent in exchange for concert tickets? Or worse, what if rumors spread about her and Kuro Neko? She could already picture the headlines, the gossip, the way the other residents might look at her if they found out the truth.

Mikan had always imagined herself as a simple girl, working at the jewelry store, having quiet dinners with Hotaru, living her life without any wild, unpredictable twists. But now, her life felt like it was balancing on the edge of something huge, something dangerous. Who took the lift with their favorite artist multiple times a week? she wondered. What if people found out? What if it all spiraled out of control?

She tried to focus on the mundane, to remind herself that everything was still just normal—a few quiet lift rides, a contract for VIP tickets. But deep down, she couldn’t escape the feeling that this secret world with Kuro Neko was growing in ways she hadn’t planned for. And no matter how much she tried to keep her distance, or act like nothing had changed, she couldn’t deny the truth. There was a change, and it terrified her more than she was willing to admit.

Hotaru had noticed the difference in her lately—the way Mikan seemed distant and preoccupied, even though she did her best to act normal. But Mikan couldn’t tell her everything, not yet. Not when she still had so many questions of her own. She couldn’t risk it, not when the reality of it all seemed to shift so rapidly, like a delicate balance that could tip at any moment.

The more comfortable Kuro Neko seemed around her, the more uncomfortable Mikan became. It was as if each small moment of familiarity between them made the distance between them feel more fragile, more confusing. There were days when she couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to relax when he saw her in the lift, how he’d look up from his phone and give her a small nod of acknowledgment. Other days, it was as if he wanted to speak, but the silence between them stretched on, as if neither of them knew what to say.

Mikan couldn’t help but wonder if he remembered her from the album signing at her event. The thought made her stomach churn. If he did, would he think less of her? She hadn’t exactly behaved like a normal fan back then, and she couldn’t shake the fear that he might recognize her from that embarrassing moment. She had been too nervous, too starstruck, and now that she saw him in person, in her building, it felt like the weight of that first interaction was still hanging over her. She would much rather he didn’t know she had been a fan—someone who had attended his concerts, who had spent hours watching videos of him, memorizing every lyric. She wasn’t sure why it felt like such a secret to her, but she knew it wasn’t something she wanted him to know. It felt too personal, too invasive.

The truth was, she was no longer sure what she wanted. On the one hand, she didn’t want him to see her as just another fan, lost in the crowd. But on the other, a small, irrational part of her was afraid of being seen as something more. It wasn’t just the fear of being exposed for who she really was—it was the fear that she might start wanting something from him that she wasn’t prepared for.

Mikan sighed, the confusion overwhelming her. She had never imagined that being near her favorite artist, the person she had admired from afar, would be so complicated. The closer Kuro Neko seemed to get to her, the more uncertain she became of her own feelings. All she wanted was to keep things simple, but nothing about this situation felt simple anymore.

By mid-November, Mikan’s situation had started to feel overwhelming. Her anxiety, which she had always managed to keep under control, was now beginning to show more and more. She found herself second-guessing every word she spoke around Hotaru and Ichigo, trying to hide the nervous energy that churned inside her. Both of them had begun to notice her distant mood, the way she fidgeted or seemed distracted. But no matter how much they tried to ask if she was okay, Mikan couldn’t explain what was happening. How could she explain it? How could she put into words the strange, suffocating feeling that came from living in such close proximity to Kuro Neko—the man she had admired from afar for so long, and yet now was right there, a complex figure who stayed just a few doors next to her?

It was hard. It was harder than she ever imagined. Every time she saw him, it was like a wave of panic washed over her. She’d been so sure of her admiration for Kuro Neko, but the reality of him as Natsume Hyuga, her unofficial neighbor and now part of her life, was completely different. It wasn’t just a star on a screen anymore. It wasn’t the same as following a celebrity from a distance. He was a person—someone she had to interact with, and it terrified her.

Mikan knew she needed to calm down, to reset her mind and reframe the way she thought about him. She had to start treating him like a normal person, someone who was just another neighbor, just another guy in her building. She couldn’t continue seeing him as the star she’d once adored. But how could she? Every glance, every passing encounter reminded her of the person he was, the singer she had once idolized. How was she supposed to forget about that? How could she push aside the admiration that had been ingrained in her for years?

Slowly, though, Mikan tried to push herself to do just that. She stopped watching his videos late at night, the ones she had replayed so many times, studying his performances, memorizing his lyrics. She stopped reading articles about him, avoided the fan communities that she used to spend hours with. His face, dressed in his glamorous outfits, grinning from the stage in all his beautiful, charismatic glory—it all made her feel uncomfortable now. She couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him like that on her screen when he was so near to her in real life. It felt too intrusive. Too gross.

She took down the posters she had once carefully pinned to her walls. The ones that had been her pride and joy, the ones that had made her bedroom feel like a shrine to her favorite artist. It wasn’t that she didn’t admire him anymore—it was just that having his image plastered everywhere in her personal space was too much. She didn’t want to have his face staring at her from her room when she was trying to relax or get some sleep. It was a small step, but it was one she needed to take in order to regain some sense of normalcy.

Hotaru noticed the change immediately. She didn’t comment on the posters, but she could tell Mikan was struggling. There was something about the way she had withdrawn, the way her usual lively spirit had dimmed, that worried her. She could tell that Mikan was trying to distance herself from Kuro Neko, from the world she had once embraced so fully. Hotaru wanted to say something, to ask if everything was okay, but she knew Mikan wasn’t ready to talk about it. Instead, she just offered her support in her quiet way, checking in on her whenever she could.

Mikan, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel even more isolated. She wasn’t ready to admit that her feelings for Natsume Hyuga—Kuro Neko—were only getting more complicated. But for now, all she could do was focus on getting through the days. She hoped that with time, the confusion would fade. That maybe, just maybe, she would be able to look at him without her heart racing in her chest, without the strange mix of admiration and anxiety bubbling up.

One evening, as Mikan entered the lift after a long day at work, she was surprised to find Natsume standing there, his usual quiet presence filling the space. She had grown accustomed to these brief encounters, but tonight, something felt different. She pressed the button for her floor, her gaze flickering nervously toward the doors, trying to avoid eye contact.

But Natsume didn’t seem to be ignoring her as usual. After a long moment of silence, he spoke up, his voice soft but steady. “Are you okay?”

Mikan froze, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t expected him to ask, especially not so directly. She turned toward him, offering a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, her voice sounding forced, even to her own ears. She quickly looked away, focusing on the lift panel as the tension in the air thickened.

Natsume studied her for a moment, his sharp gaze taking in the way she was avoiding him, the subtle tension in her posture. His expression remained unreadable but there was something about the way he watched her that made her feel exposed. Still, he didn’t press her. After a few seconds, he simply nodded, turning his attention back to the lift doors as if he hadn’t noticed anything unusual at all.

The silence stretched between them until the lift reached their floor. When the doors opened, Mikan stepped out quickly, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere that had settled between them. As she walked down the hallway, she couldn’t help but glance back. Natsume was still in the corridor, watching her with an unreadable expression. He didn’t say anything else.

Mikan tried to calm the nervous flutter in her chest. She was grateful he hadn’t asked more questions, but at the same time, his quiet observation left her feeling unsettled.

After their brief exchange in the lift, Mikan hadn't seen Natsume again. At first, she tried to convince herself it was just coincidence—maybe their paths hadn't crossed due to her odd work hours, or perhaps he had been busy with something important. But as the days went by, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. Natsume was always in the building, but now, he was conspicuously absent.

Mikan was curious, but she didn’t want to seem like she was looking for him. She kept herself busy, focusing on her work and spending time with Hotaru whenever they could catch up. But that nagging feeling lingered. Then, on the 24th of November, Mikan found herself scrolling through her phone at the end of a long day, distracted by the usual mix of news, social media, and random videos.

It was then that she saw it—an announcement on one of the fan pages for Kuro Neko.

November 27th, Natsume’s 26th birthday. Mikan blinked, her fingers freezing mid-scroll. Of course, she had known the date in the back of her mind, but now, seeing it on the screen, it made her realize something.

It made sense. Natsume had been laying low recently, likely busy preparing for content around his birthday, or perhaps some special projects. That explained his absence in the building. Fans would be waiting for some special posts, a video, or an appearance from him. She imagined his team was busy preparing everything, and his absence from the usual spots in the building—like the lift or the hallway—was part of the rush.

She couldn’t help but feel a little relieved. It wasn’t her imagination, nor had he been deliberately avoiding her. Natsume was just... busy.

The realization felt like a weight lifted off her shoulders, but it also left her feeling a little hollow. She hadn’t realized how much she had been hoping to see him again, even if just for a moment. A small part of her had thought that after their brief, strange conversation, things might have been different—that perhaps Natsume would have sought her out, or that they might have spoken more. But now, with the news of his upcoming birthday and the knowledge that he was likely preparing for his fans, it felt like she was right back at square one.

It wasn't that she was upset—no, that wasn't it at all. She understood the pressures of being a public figure, the demands on his time, and the need for privacy. But something about his absence felt... final. As if their brief moment of connection had meant nothing to him, while she was left overthinking everything.

Mikan shook her head, trying to push away the lingering thoughts. She didn’t need to overanalyze things. He was just busy. She had her own life, her own worries.

With a sigh, Mikan put down her phone and set it aside. It was time to focus on the here and now, not on the unspoken tensions or fantasies about the man who was a stranger to her in so many ways.

On the evening of November 27th, Mikan and Hotaru were in the kitchen as usual, munching on the burgers they’d had delivered. The conversation was light, the kind that had always been easy between them. Hotaru had her usual energy, but Mikan couldn’t help but feel distracted, picking at her fries more than actually eating them.

Hotaru noticed. She had been quiet for a while now, and it wasn’t the first time. It seemed like something was on her mind—again.

"So," Hotaru said, her voice casual but with a hint of concern. "You’ve been zoning out for, like, an hour. What's up? Spill."

Mikan shrugged but didn’t meet her gaze. "I’m fine."

Hotaru raised an eyebrow. "You’ve been ‘fine’ for a few days now, but I’m not buying it."

Mikan gave a half-hearted smile and waved her hand dismissively. "Really, it’s nothing."

Hotaru leaned back, crossing her arms and eyeing her. "Mikan, come on. You know you can’t lie to me. Whatever it is, just let it out."

Mikan hesitated, then sighed dramatically. "I just… I don’t know. Everything’s been a little weird lately. It’s like, one minute I’m just living my normal life, and the next I’m in the same lift as Kuro Neko and I forget how to breathe. It's ridiculous."

Hotaru blinked, looking at her seriously. "You've been seeing him for several months now, Mikan."

Mikan nodded, rolling her eyes. "I don’t even know why I’m freaking out now. It's just, one second he's this big star in my head, and the next he's just... Natsume, my neighbor’s friend. And it feels strange."

Hotaru blinked a few times, then leaned forward with a mischievous grin. "You’re telling me you’ve been sharing a lift with your idol for months, and now you’re upset about it? You need to be like, ‘hey, Neko, can we take a selfie?’"

Mikan groaned, dropping her head onto the table. "I don’t want to be that person. It's just... I keep thinking I'm making everything so complicated."

Hotaru raised her eyebrow. "Whoa. Seriously, you’re overthinking this."

Mikan looked up at her, eyebrows furrowed. "How do you figure?"

"Well," Hotaru said, tapping her chin thoughtfully, "you can’t control everything. Natsume’s not some mysterious creature you need to decode. He’s just a guy with a special job."

Mikan snorted, half-laughing. "You make it sound so easy. I’m just trying to figure out how to act normal around him, but I keep thinking about him."

Hotaru shrugged. "Yeah, I get it. You’re afraid of looking like a fan. But guess what? You’re allowed to be a fan. He’s not going to bite your head off. You’re both just two people sharing a lift."

Mikan blinked, a little taken aback by the simplicity of Hotaru’s answer. "I guess... I just feel like I need to keep everything in control. But I’m kind of failing at it."

"Of course you are," Hotaru said with a grin. "You’re trying to control something you have no control over. It’s a two-way thing, Mikan. You don’t have to figure out everything on your own, and you don’t have to hide who you are. If you want to be yourself around him, then be yourself. He’s just a guy who also happens to be your favorite artist."

Mikan blinked, her mind racing as she processed Hotaru’s words. It wasn’t just about control, it was more than that. Something deeper was pulling at her. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, not fully realizing where her thoughts were going.

"I mean..." Mikan began, her voice unsure, as if she hadn’t fully worked out what she was about to say. "It’s not just the whole Kuro Neko thing. It’s… I don’t know, I’ve been kind of… thinking about him a lot lately." She paused, fidgeting with the corner of her napkin, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "Like, I don’t know why, but every time I see him in the lift, I get this feeling, you know? And it’s not just the whole fan thing anymore. It’s... it’s like I’m seeing him as him now. Not just as this idol, but as, like, a person. And I don’t know how to... act normal around him anymore. Because—"

She stopped herself, suddenly aware of what she was saying. Her face flushed a little, but she couldn’t take the words back now.

Hotaru’s eyes widened in surprise, though she quickly masked it with a teasing smile. "Ohhh, I see. So you’ve got a little thing for him, huh?" She wiggled her eyebrows dramatically.

Mikan's face turned an even deeper shade of red, and she stammered. "What? No! I mean, it’s not like that. I don’t— It’s just... I’m just stressed, okay?" She clutched her burger a little too tightly, avoiding Hotaru’s mischievous gaze. "It’s just... whenever he’s around, I feel like I’m going to make a fool of myself."

Hotaru’s grin softened as she leaned back in her chair, amused but understanding. "Mikan, come on. It’s not the end of the world."

"I know, I know," Mikan mumbled, her mind still racing. "It’s just... I wasn’t expecting to feel this way. I mean, I’ve seen his concerts, watched his interviews, and now I see him every week in my building. It’s... weird, you know? I don’t want to just be that awkward girl who trips over her words every time she’s around him."

Hotaru laughed softly, clearly enjoying Mikan’s flustered state. "If you ask me, I think he’d find it pretty endearing if you just acted like yourself. You’re not going to win him over by pretending to be someone you’re not, Mikan."

Mikan quickly shook her head, her face flushed with embarrassment. "I’m not trying to win him over, okay?" she protested, her voice a little too sharp. "I don’t even know what I’d do if that happened." She fumbled with her napkin again, avoiding Hotaru’s teasing gaze. "It’s just... I think I’m attracted to him because he’s Kuro Neko, my favorite singer, you know? I just got... all mixed up because he’s actually real now.

Hotaru raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "And you think that's why you're nervous around him? Because he’s Kuro Neko?"

"Yes!" Mikan replied quickly, a little too defensively. "I mean, think about it! I’ve been a fan for so long, and now... now he's right there! It’s hard to not get a little freaked out, right?" She let out a sigh and pushed her plate aside. "So, yeah, maybe I’m a little... off-balance. But it’s not like I’m going to suddenly start falling for him or anything."

Hotaru grinned, leaning back in her chair. "Well, as long as you’re not thinking of starting a fan club just for him, I guess we’re good."

Mikan rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. "No fan clubs, I promise."

Hotaru winked. "Good. But, seriously, take a deep breath and relax. You don’t have to have everything figured out right now. Just... take it one lift ride at a time."

Since her conversation with Hotaru, Mikan had felt lighter. Admitting her feelings, even just to herself, had somehow lifted a weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying. She had finally faced the truth: she was attracted to Natsume. But she quickly justified it, telling herself that it was only because he was Kuro Neko. After all, he was her favorite singer. It wasn’t about him as a person—it was about the person she had admired for so long now being so close.

It was just her admiration taking a strange, unexpected turn. Nothing more. Mikan preferred to think of it as temporary. Something she would get over once the novelty of having her favorite celebrity in her building wore off.

In early December, Mikan had crossed paths with Natsume several times in the building. The usual polite exchanges continued—nothing more than brief greetings or a few words about the weather. But Mikan couldn’t help but notice that he seemed more tired than usual. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his usual calm, composed demeanor had a hint of weariness.

But hey, every job was tiring in its own way, right? Natsume was a celebrity, constantly in the public eye, probably juggling interviews, concerts, and all sorts of other obligations. It made sense that he would be exhausted, just like anyone who worked hard. Still, Mikan couldn’t help but feel a little concerned, even though she kept it to herself.

He was just a guy, after all. A guy who happened to be Kuro Neko.

Mikan was tired, the kind of tired that made her body feel like it was made of stone, but she still walked home from work with a slow, steady pace, her mind replaying snippets of her day. She had her headphones on, the music offering a small, familiar comfort as it wrapped around her like a warm blanket. The soft beats and lyrics made everything seem easier, more bearable.

As she approached the lift, she was lost in the world of her music. The familiar opening notes of one of Natsume’s tracks played in her ears, and despite everything that had happened over the past few weeks, she found herself smiling involuntarily. She still couldn’t believe that he—Kuro Neko, the man whose voice had become a soundtrack to her life—stayed in the same building.

It wasn’t until she was in the lift that she saw him—Natsume, without his face mask. The familiar, almost surreal sight of him standing in the lobby, his figure casting a tall shadow in the room, immediately made Mikan's pulse quicken. She froze for a moment, almost as if she hadn’t expected to see him, even though they ‘shared’ this building.

She was about to quickly press the button to keep the lift doors open, but Natsume was already stepping in.

Without thinking, she pulled her headphones off and around her neck. The music spilled into the quiet lift space, the sound of Kuro Neko’s voice filling the air. She had been listening to his album, and now the sound of his own voice seemed to take on a new layer of meaning, like a personal soundtrack playing in the background of their shared space.

It was almost too much. Her heart pounded in her chest as she faced him, trying to act like everything was normal, even though her insides were swirling. She was acutely aware of every little movement she made.

Natsume spoke first, his voice low, but there was a faint note of amusement in it. “You listen to my songs.”

Mikan felt her stomach tighten. She didn't know whether to be embarrassed or flattered. Was he mocking her? Or was he just being... casual? He must have noticed the album playing in her headphones.

She laughed nervously, trying to mask her discomfort. “Uh, yeah. Your music’s... good.” she said, her voice betraying her unease. She wasn’t sure why she felt so flustered. After all, she’d been a fan of his for years. But now, with him so close, it felt different. There was something too intimate about it, like an invisible line being crossed.

Natsume seemed to consider her response for a moment, his black eyes lingering on her face as if studying her more closely than usual. Mikan felt like she was under a magnifying glass, exposed in a way she wasn't used to. His gaze softened slightly, but there was a flicker of something else in it—a curiosity, maybe?

“It’s kind of strange, huh?” he said casually, as if he were talking to someone he’d known for ages. “Hearing my own voice in the background like this. Usually, it’s on stage, in front of thousands of people, not in a lift.”

Mikan blinked, surprised at how easily he was talking about it. For a moment, she felt a pang of guilt for listening to his music so openly, so publicly, even if it was just the two of them in this small, quiet space. But at the same time, she admired how effortlessly Natsume was making this conversation feel normal. Like it was just a casual chat between two people who happened to share the same space. She had been so caught up in her head about his status as Kuro Neko, as a singer, that it was almost hard to separate the two.

“I didn’t... I didn’t mean to make it weird,” Mikan blurted out, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I just like your music," she added, almost as if trying to reassure herself.

There was a brief pause before Natsume gave a slight smile, the kind of smile that didn’t reveal too much, but enough to make Mikan feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t bothered by it. "No harm done," he said, his tone lighter now. "It's... flattering, I guess.”

Mikan’s heart skipped again, but for an entirely different reason this time. Yes, he was a star, a celebrity with a voice that had captivated millions. But in this moment, in the lift with her, he was incredibly handsome. There was no entourage, no flashing lights, just Natsume, a guy with his own thoughts, his own insecurities.

The lift hummed quietly as it moved between floors. Mikan shifted her weight from one foot to the other, unsure of how to continue. But before she could speak, Natsume glanced at her again, this time his gaze steady, almost soft.

“Don’t worry about it.” He looked away, then back at her, a small, quiet smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t need to feel awkward.”

Mikan was surprised at how his words made her feel lighter, more at ease. Maybe he wasn’t so different from the person she’d admired from afar. Maybe he was even better than the perfect image she had built up in her mind.

The lift doors opened, and Mikan’s heart skipped yet again. As she stepped out, she stole a glance back at him. Their eyes met once more, this time without the same nervous edge she had felt before. Instead, there was something deeper there—something Mikan couldn't quite place, but it made her feel like maybe she hadn’t been imagining things all along.

This man wasn’t just a singer she admired anymore. In the short time they’d shared in the lift, he’d shown her a new side of him. A side that was unexpectedly charming.

She had always known Kuro Neko was attractive—his voice, his presence, his ability to captivate a crowd. But now, standing in front of her, speaking to her as an ordinary person, she saw a different kind of charm. It wasn’t the charm of a star or an idol, but the subtle, almost understated charm of someone who wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

And for the first time, Mikan realized that she wasn’t just a fan anymore.

Her feelings were shifting, and as much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, she couldn’t deny the truth any longer.

Natsume Hyuga was undeniably charming, in a way that went beyond his image as Kuro Neko. And Mikan didn’t know where this realization would lead, but she knew one thing for sure—she was going to need to figure it out. Soon.

Chapter Text

December settled over the city like a picturesque postcard, blanketing it in frosty mornings and twinkling lights that painted the streets with a golden glow. The crisp air was alive with the scent of pine wreaths and roasted chestnuts from street vendors, mingling with the faint melody of Christmas carols drifting from nearby shops. Everywhere Mikan turned, festive cheer seemed to burst forth—windows adorned with sparkling garlands, store displays showcasing intricate ornaments, and towering trees shimmering with baubles in every imaginable color. The city felt alive, brimming with joy and anticipation for the holidays.

For Mikan, however, the season felt bittersweet. Christmas had always been one of her favorite times of year. She loved the way it brought people together, the way even the coldest hearts seemed to thaw under the spell of warm drinks and shared laughter. There was something almost magical about the way the world transformed during December, draped in twinkling lights and good intentions.

But this year, her emotions were tangled in knots. Ever since she had admitted to herself that she had a crush on Natsume—the elusive, maddeningly attractive singer-next-door—she couldn’t help but feel a quiet tension whenever she was near him. It wasn’t as if anything had changed between them; their interactions were still polite, their conversations brief. And yet, she found herself hyper aware of every glance, every word, every accidental touch as though her feelings had sharpened her senses to unbearable levels.

Hotaru, sharp as ever, hadn’t missed the shift in Mikan’s behavior. While she hadn’t outright questioned her yet, Mikan could feel her friend watching, her piercing gaze a silent prod for answers. To Mikan’s relief, Hotaru hadn’t pushed. She wasn’t sure how to explain the mess of emotions swirling inside her, and the idea of saying them out loud felt dangerous. Like an incantation that would summon something she wasn’t ready to face.

So, Mikan kept her secret close, locking it behind a practiced smile and the same easy going demeanor she always wore. If she acted like everything was normal, maybe it would feel that way eventually.

The holiday rush at the jewelry store offered Mikan a much-needed distraction. From the moment she opened the doors in the morning to the second she flipped the sign 'closed' in the evening, the store was packed. Couples looking for the perfect gift, parents hunting for keepsakes, and last-minute shoppers scrambling for anything that sparkled—it seemed like everyone in the city was on a mission to spread a little holiday cheer.

Mikan barely had time to catch her breath. Between restocking displays, helping indecisive customers, and ringing up purchases, her days blurred together in a whirlwind of red ribbons and velvet-lined boxes.

Her boss, Mrs. Yamada, often poked her head out from the back office to offer a quick word of encouragement or a cup of hot tea. “You’re doing great, Mikan. Just a couple more weeks, and we’ll survive this madness,” she said one particularly hectic afternoon, handing Mikan a candy cane with a wink.

Mikan appreciated the distraction. Work left her with little time to dwell on her feelings. By the time she made it home each evening, her legs ached, her arms were sore from carrying stock, and her mind was too fried to think about anything other than collapsing into bed. But no matter how busy she was, there was always a moment—a fleeting pause when she wasn’t running around—where her thoughts drifted back to him.

It was silly, really, the way her mind kept circling back to him. But no matter how many times she scolded herself for it, her thoughts always returned to his smirk, his voice, the way he leaned casually against the lift wall as if he owned the world.

Still, Mikan told herself it was fine. She could handle this. She just had to keep her head down, focus on work, and wait for the winter to pass. Surely, by then, these feelings would fade.

The jewelry store had been especially chaotic that evening. Mikan had stayed late organizing the displays after a particularly hectic rush of last-minute shoppers. By the time she trudged into the building, her arms full of paper bags with supplies and leftover decorations from the shop, she was exhausted. The faint sound of a Christmas song hummed in her ears from a distant street performer, and her feet ached from standing all day.

She pushed the lift button and leaned against the wall, letting out a deep sigh. When the lift doors slid open, she stepped inside and set her bags down at her feet. She was so tired that she barely noticed the footsteps hurrying toward her until a familiar voice called out.

"Hold the door."

Mikan blinked and quickly pressed the button to keep the doors open. Natsume stepped inside, wearing his usual casual black jacket and scarf, his hair slightly tousled. He smelled faintly of the crisp winter air, and his eyes had that perpetual mix of intensity and boredom.

"Thanks," he muttered, stepping into the lift beside her.

Mikan’s heart skipped a beat, the fatigue momentarily forgotten. She tried to keep her expression neutral as she greeted him with a polite smile. "No problem."

The lift doors slid shut, and the soft hum of its ascent filled the silence. For a few seconds, they stood side by side, neither speaking, the faint jingle of Mikan’s bagged decorations rustling in the quiet. She told herself to keep her eyes forward, but of course, her traitorous gaze flicked up toward him.

Natsume glanced down at her, his black eyes locking onto hers for a brief moment. Then, to her surprise, he spoke.

"Are you ready for Christmas?" he asked, his voice smooth and low.

Mikan blinked, caught off guard by the question. She fumbled for a response. "Uh, yeah, I think so. It’s been really busy at work, but, you know, the usual holiday chaos. What about you?"

He shrugged. "Busy too. It’s always like that this time of year."

She nodded, unsure what to say. Was he talking about his work as Kuro Neko? Did he have concerts, promotions, or fan events lined up? She resisted the urge to pry, even though she was curious.

The lift slowed as it neared their floor. Natsume shifted slightly, turning toward her, and for a moment, the air felt heavier, like something unspoken lingered between them.

"I don’t think I’ll be back before Christmas," he said, his tone casual, though there was a softness to it that caught her attention.

Mikan’s breath caught. "Oh, I see. Well, that makes sense. It’s a busy season for everyone."

He nodded, his gaze steady. "Merry Christmas, Mikan."

Her name on his lips sent a jolt through her chest. She stared at him, startled by the unexpected warmth in his words.

"Oh—Merry Christmas to you too," she said, her voice softer than she intended.

The lift came to a halt, and the doors slid open. Natsume stepped out first but paused to glance back at her. "Don’t overwork yourself."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Mikan standing in the lift with her bags and a heart racing so fast she thought it might leap out of her chest.

As she closed the doors of her flat, she leaned back against her wall, exhaling a shaky breath.

Her crush on him wasn’t just about Kuro Neko anymore. It was Natsume—the guy who held the lift, who offered simple kindness in the quiet moments, and who, with just a few words, could make her feel like the most important person in the room.

It wasn’t a sudden epiphany but rather a slow, creeping realization that kept Mikan awake at night. Her feelings for Natsume weren’t just admiration for a celebrity or a silly crush on her neighbor’s friend. They were deeper, more personal, and far more frightening.

By Sunday, the weight of it all had become too much, so when Hotaru suggested their usual café outing, Mikan decided it was time to talk. They sat at their favorite table by the window, the soft hum of conversation around them blending with the warm scent of cinnamon and caramel. Their waffles arrived, adorned with whipped cream and berries, but Mikan barely glanced at hers.

Hotaru, sharp as ever, was the first to break the silence. "You’re acting weird again. Spill it."

Mikan sighed, pushing her fork aimlessly through the whipped cream. "It’s about Natsume," she mumbled.

Hotaru didn’t look surprised, though her eyebrow arched slightly.

"I think I..." Mikan hesitated, her voice faltering. "I think I like him."

Hotaru leaned back in her chair, waiting for her to elaborate.

"I mean, I like him for who he is—not because he’s Kuro Neko or some famous artist, but because of the little things," Mikan said, her words tumbling out in a rush. "The way he says ‘Merry Christmas’ in the lift, his facial expressions and how he looks out for people even when he’s obviously exhausted... But then, I remember who he is—his job, his life—and I get scared."

Hotaru tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "Scared of what?"

Mikan fiddled with the edge of her napkin. "To love someone knowing that our relationship is impossible. I mean, he’s a celebrity, Hotaru. He travels all the time, meets incredible people, probably has women throwing themselves at him left and right. And here I am, some random girl working at a jewelry store. It’s like... how could someone like him ever take me seriously?"

Hotaru was quiet for a moment, her gaze steady.

"It’s not just that," Mikan added, her voice quieter now. "I don’t even know if I could handle being part of his world. All the attention, the scrutiny... What if it’s too much? What if I can’t keep up?"

Hotaru finally spoke, her tone even. "Do you think he’s just a job?"

Mikan blinked. "What?"

"Do you think Natsume is only Kuro Neko, the singer?" Hotaru asked, leaning forward slightly. "Because if that’s all you see, then maybe you don't like him that much. But if you’re telling me you’re drawn to the guy in the lift, the neighbor’s friend who actually seems like a decent human being, then you’re not falling for his image. You’re falling for him."

Mikan opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out.

"And as for the rest of it," Hotaru continued, "yeah, it’s a complicated situation. But relationships are complicated no matter who you’re with. You’re just freaking yourself out because of the celebrity label. Newsflash: he’s still human."

Mikan frowned, her doubts swirling in her mind. "But what if I’m not enough? What if I don’t fit into his world?"

Hotaru shrugged. "That’s not something you can figure out by overthinking it. If he’s worth anything, he’ll make space for you in his world. And if he doesn’t, then you’ll know he wasn’t the right person."

Mikan poked at her waffle, her chest tightening. "It’s just... hard to imagine someone like him even noticing me in that way."

Hotaru sighed, resting her chin in her hand. "Mikan, you’re doing that thing again where you put people on pedestals. Natsume isn’t some untouchable god. He’s a guy who happens to sing for a living. If you want to like him, then like him. But don’t let your fear of his job—or your doubts about yourself—decide for you."

Mikan’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her thoughts were still tangled. She picked up her fork and took a bite of her waffle, letting the sweetness ground her for a moment.

"You're right, Hotaru," she said softly.

"As always," Hotaru replied, reaching for her coffee. "If you’re going to keep pining, at least make it entertaining for me."

Despite herself, Mikan laughed. But as the laughter faded, she couldn’t shake the lingering doubts. She might have realized her feelings, but the road ahead still felt impossibly uncertain.

Mikan, Hotaru, Anna, and Nonoko sat comfortably in Mikan’s cozy living room, the warmth of the space a perfect counter to the chilly December evening outside. The faint twinkle of Christmas lights framed the windows, casting colorful reflections onto the walls. Mikan had gone all out with festive decorations—garlands of holly draped across her shelves, a small Christmas tree glowing softly in the corner, and candles flickering on the coffee table.

The four friends were seated around the table, where pizza boxes sat open, filling the room with the delicious aroma of melted cheese and roasted toppings. Mikan had invited her closest friends over for a casual evening, taking advantage of the fact that Natsume wasn’t around. She didn’t want to risk them stumbling upon the man in black—the same man whose identity she was fiercely keeping to herself.

"I can’t believe we’re having pizza instead of something fancy," Nonoko joked, picking up a slice. "Isn’t this supposed to be a Christmas dinner?"

Mikan laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hey, I never promised anything extravagant. Besides, who doesn’t love pizza?"

"It’s the food of the people," Anna said with a grin, raising her slice like a toast.

Hotaru, as always, was more focused on her food than the conversation. "Pizza is practical. No one had to cook, and it didn't require cleanup. Honestly, it’s the superior choice."

Nonoko rolled her eyes. "Trust you to find the efficiency in dinner, Hotaru."

The girls laughed, the lighthearted teasing blending with the warmth of the atmosphere. Mikan felt herself relax for the first time in days. Having them here felt like a perfect way to embrace the Christmas spirit without overthinking everything else swirling in her mind.

"So, how’s work been, Mikan?" Anna asked, taking a sip of her drink.

"Busy," Mikan replied with a sigh, though her smile remained. "Everyone’s rushing to buy last-minute gifts. I think I’ve wrapped more jewelry boxes in the past week than I have in my entire life."

"I can imagine," Nonoko said. "Though I bet it’s nice seeing people excited about giving gifts."

Mikan nodded. "It is. Even if it’s exhausting, I love the holiday energy. People are... kinder, somehow."

Anna and Nonoko exchanged a look before Anna, her grin mischievous, leaned forward slightly. "Speaking of holiday energy, is there anyone special giving you holiday energy, Mikan?"

Mikan nearly dropped her pizza slice, her cheeks warming. "W-What? What are you even talking about?"

Nonoko smirked, not letting her off the hook. "Oh, come on, Mikan. The holidays are the perfect time for romance. You know, mistletoe, twinkling lights, cozy evenings..."

"Don’t be ridiculous!" Mikan protested, her voice an octave higher than usual. "I’m way too busy for any of that."

Anna tilted her head, clearly unconvinced. "Busy doesn’t mean uninterested. You’re telling me there’s no one you’ve been thinking about? No secret admirer? No handsome stranger?"

Hotaru, ever the observer, cut in with her usual bluntness. "If there is, she wouldn’t tell you."

Mikan shot her a grateful look. "Exactly! Because there’s nothing to tell!"

Nonoko sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. But if you’re hiding something, we’ll find out eventually."

"Good luck with that," Hotaru said dryly, biting into her pizza.

Anna shrugged, deciding to shift the attention elsewhere. "Okay, fine. But now you have to listen to us talk about our love lives. Fair is fair."

Nonoko lit up at the invitation. "Oh, I’ve got a story!" she said, her eyes sparkling. "There’s this guy at the hospital where I volunteer. He’s new—tall, super polite, kind of quiet. Anyway, he asked me the other day if I wanted to get coffee after our shift!"

Mikan gasped. "That’s so exciting! Did you go?"

"I did," Nonoko admitted, her cheeks pink. "And he’s really sweet. We talked for hours about everything—our jobs, books, even silly childhood stories. But now I don’t know if he sees it as a date or just... friendly coworker vibes."

Anna waved her hand dismissively. "Trust me, Nonoko, no guy spends hours talking about childhood stories unless he’s interested."

"Exactly," Mikan added with a smile. "It sounds like he likes you!"

Nonoko beamed. "I hope so. I guess we’ll see where it goes."

Anna turned the spotlight on herself next. "Well, my story isn’t as cute, but I’ve been texting this guy from my baking class. He’s a chef at this fancy restaurant and keeps sending me pictures of his dishes with captions like, ‘This would go great with your macarons.’"

"Flirty and food-related? That’s basically a dream man," Mikan teased.

Anna laughed. "Right? But I don’t know... he’s kind of intimidating. Like, how am I supposed to impress someone who works at a five-star restaurant?"

Hotaru, as ever, brought the conversation back down to earth. "If he’s texting you, he’s already impressed by you. Stop overthinking it."

"Hotaru’s right," Nonoko agreed. "Just be yourself. It’s obviously working."

Anna nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe you’re right. I’ll text him tonight and see if he wants to meet up after the holidays."

Finally, all eyes turned to Hotaru. Nonoko raised an eyebrow. "Okay, your turn, Hotaru. Spill."

Hotaru blinked at them, her face unreadable. "Spill what?"

"You must have something going on," Anna said. "You’re always so secretive."

"I don’t," Hotaru said flatly. "Romance is a waste of time."

Nonoko gasped in mock horror. "You can’t say that! Love is what makes the holidays magical!"

Hotaru raised an eyebrow. "No, Anna’s gingerbread makes the holidays magical. And pizza. And quiet evenings without unnecessary emotional drama."

Mikan couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. "That’s such a Hotaru answer."

Hotaru shrugged. "It’s also true. But don’t let me ruin your fun. Go ahead and enjoy your drama."

The room erupted into laughter, the conversation flowing easily as the friends teased and encouraged each other. Even though Mikan’s heart fluttered nervously when the topic of love turned to her, she couldn’t deny how much she cherished these moments with her friends. For now, their warmth and laughter were more than enough.

Christmas passed in a blur for Mikan, swept up by the endless stream of customers at the jewelry store. The holiday rush brought its own kind of cheer, with customers eager to find the perfect gifts for their loved ones, but it also left Mikan utterly exhausted by the end of each day. Her evenings were spent unwinding over simple but comforting dinners with Hotaru, who, as always, offered her usual mix of quiet support and sharp wit to keep Mikan grounded.

This year, as tradition dictated, Mikan joined Hotaru at her parents' house to celebrate Christmas. It was always a warm and welcoming affair, with Hotaru's mother fussing over Mikan like she was another daughter, and her father making his dry but well-meaning jokes. Hotaru's older brother, Subaru, was as stoic as ever, though he always managed to soften when it came to family moments.

Mikan cherished these celebrations. Being around the Imai family felt like slipping into a well-worn sweater—comfortable, familiar, and filled with a quiet kind of joy. It was a contrast to the whirlwind of her store during the day, and it reminded her of the deeper meaning of the holidays: connection, laughter, and love.

After the cozy Christmas celebrations came the arrival of New Year’s. Unlike the lively hustle of Christmas, Mikan and Hotaru opted for a quieter approach. The two decided to host a casual evening. No big parties, no flashy countdowns—just an intimate gathering filled with snacks, laughter, and the comfort of being together.

It wasn’t the kind of night you’d find in a movie, but it was exactly what they needed: calm, uncomplicated, and a perfect way to welcome the new year.

A week after the New Year, Mikan found herself unconsciously watching the lift and the building’s corridors, expecting to see Natsume return. But day after day, there was no sign of him. At first, she chalked it up to his busy schedule, but as the week stretched on, doubt began to creep in. Maybe he wasn’t coming back anytime soon.

Her answer came on a crisp January morning when her phone buzzed with a notification. Groggily, Mikan unlocked the screen, only to sit bolt upright when she saw the headline: *Kuro Neko Announces National Tour: Dates and Cities Revealed!*

Mikan’s heart skipped as she opened the link, her eyes scanning the list of cities and dates. Her pulse quickened at the mention of Tokyo, Nagoya, and Fukuoka, but her gaze froze when it reached the last date. May. Osaka.

Her stomach sank. If May was the final show, it meant Natsume would be on the road for months. He wouldn’t be coming back to the building anytime soon—not until the tour was over.

The realization left her feeling unexpectedly hollow. She had grown used to their casual encounters, the brief moments where their worlds overlapped, however mundane they seemed. But now, the prospect of not seeing him until May felt heavier than it should. She tried to shake it off, telling herself it was silly to feel this way. After all, he had a life outside of their fleeting interactions, and she had hers. Still, she couldn’t ignore the quiet ache.

A week later, there was a knock on her door, interrupting her conversation with Hotaru on the couch. When she opened it, Luca stood there, smiling as he held out an envelope.

"These are from Natsume," he said, handing it over. "He asked me to deliver them since he’s already on the road."

Mikan blinked, confused. "What is it?"

"Concert tickets," Luca replied, his grin widening. "He remembered you wanted to go. These are for the Osaka show in May."

Mikan took the envelope, her fingers brushing over the embossed paper as she stared at it. Normally, she would have been over the moon, jumping with excitement at the thought of seeing Kuro Neko perform live again. But to Luca’s surprise, her reaction was muted.

"Thanks," she said quietly, offering him a faint smile.

Luca tilted his head, his brow furrowed. “Are you okay?"

Mikan hesitated, even she was puzzled by her lack of enthusiasm. She should’ve been thrilled. Yet, the tickets felt... different now. Less like a dream come true and more like a reminder of the distance between her and Natsume.

"I am," she said after a pause, forcing a brighter smile. "I’m just tired from work."

Luca didn’t push, though his curious expression lingered as he nodded. "Alright, but if you need anything, let me know."

As he left, Mikan closed the door and sat down, staring at the tickets in her hands. They felt like a bridge to a world she had once been a part of but was now hesitant to step into. She didn’t know why her heart felt so conflicted, but one thing was clear: her feelings for Natsume were no longer just about Kuro Neko the artist. They had grown into something more real, and that terrified her.

January slipped away like a fleeting dream, and before Mikan realized it, February was already upon her. With Valentine’s Day looming, the jewelry store was busier than ever, flooded with customers searching for the perfect gifts for their loved ones. The shop sparkled with heart-shaped displays and glittering rings, bracelets, and pendants that seemed to glow under the soft lighting.

For Mikan, the frenzy of Valentine’s Day was both exhausting and distracting—a welcome reprieve from her thoughts. Ichigo, her cheerful coworker, had been a lifesaver during this whirlwind. With her bubbly personality and sharp wit, Ichigo brought a lightness to the chaos that Mikan hadn’t realized she needed.

“Look at this guy,” Ichigo whispered one afternoon, nudging Mikan as a customer deliberated between two bracelets for what felt like an eternity. “He’s been standing there for fifteen minutes, and I think he’s sweating. Must be a tough decision, huh?”

Mikan bit her lip to stifle a laugh. “I bet he’s terrified of picking the wrong one. Valentine’s Day pressure is real.”

Ichigo grinned mischievously. “Should we tell him both are wrong and steer him toward the necklace? It’s much prettier.”

Mikan shook her head, laughing. “You’re terrible. But yes, the necklace is definitely the better choice.”

Their banter carried them through the busy days, and Ichigo’s sense of humor kept Mikan grounded. She found herself laughing more than she had in weeks, even during the most hectic shifts.

One particularly busy Friday, Ichigo leaned on the counter during a rare lull and sighed dramatically. “You know, Mikan, we should start a matchmaking service. We sell the jewelry, then pair people up. A two-in-one deal.”

Mikan laughed as she arranged a new display. “You’d end up matchmaking yourself just to get free jewelry.”

“Hey, I’d make a great cupid,” Ichigo shot back, pretending to fire an imaginary arrow. “But fine, I’ll just help other people find love. What about you? Any secret Valentine’s plans?”

Mikan shook her head quickly. “Not a chance. My plan is to survive the holiday rush and sleep.”

Ichigo pouted dramatically. “Boring. You’re way too cute to be single, you know. Someone out there is probably waiting for you to notice them.”

Mikan rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “If they’re waiting, they’ll have to wait until after Valentine’s Day. I don’t have time for romance right now.”

And it was true. Between managing customers, juggling inventory, and laughing with Ichigo, Mikan barely had a moment to think about anything else. Even Natsume, who had lingered in her thoughts for weeks, was surprisingly absent from her mind.

As February unfolded, Mikan realized how much she appreciated Ichigo’s company. Her coworker’s infectious energy made even the busiest days fly by, and Mikan felt lighter than she had in a long time. For now, she was content to let the holiday’s chaos sweep her up, grateful for the simple joys of laughter and friendship.

Chapter Text

When Mikan and Hotaru had sent the invitations to Nonoko and Anna for the Kuro Neko concert, they hadn't expected such an enthusiastic response. The two of them nearly jumped out of their seats when they read the message. VIP seats at a Kuro Neko concert? It was like a dream come true for both of them.

That night, during dinner in a restaurant, the two were practically glowing with excitement. Nonoko and Anna couldn’t stop thanking Mikan and Hotaru for such a thoughtful gift.

“I still can’t believe it!” Nonoko said, her eyes wide as she took a bite of her pasta. “You’re telling me that we’re going to be sitting right there, in the front? With the best view of the concert?”

“Yup,” Hotaru replied, grinning, clearly enjoying the scene. “VIP seats, front and center. You’re welcome.”

Anna, who had been almost speechless up until that point, finally found her voice. “Mikan, Hotaru, you have no idea how much this means to us. We’ve been dying to see Kuro Neko live. This is... beyond amazing!” Her face was glowing with happiness.

Mikan smiled modestly, trying to downplay her excitement. “It’s really no big deal. I just wanted you both to enjoy it with us. I know how much you love his music.”

Nonoko and Anna exchanged an almost conspiratorial look, as if an idea had struck them at the same time.

“You know,” Nonoko said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin, “we could never repay you for such an awesome gift. But we have an idea…”

Anna chuckled at Nonoko’s teasing tone, nodding. “We’ve been thinking about it for a while now. And we finally figured out a way to say thank you.”

“What’s the idea?” Mikan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re going to set you up on blind dates!” Nonoko said, her voice practically bursting with excitement.

Mikan blinked, taken aback. “What?! Blind dates?”

“Yup!” Anna added, her tone full of confidence. “You and Hotaru. You two have done something so amazing for us, so now it’s our turn to do something for you. We’ve got some great guys in mind—cute, interesting, and—”

“Totally perfect for you two,” Nonoko finished, her eyes twinkling. “We’ll arrange everything, and it’ll be just a little thank you from us.”

Mikan and Hotaru exchanged an amused look. Mikan couldn’t help but laugh, though she felt a bit embarrassed. “You two are serious, huh? You’re actually going to set us up?”

“I don’t know…” Hotaru said with a teasing smirk. “What if they’re not cute enough to match our level?”

“Oh, they’re cute enough,” Anna said quickly. “Trust us, we wouldn’t set you up with just anyone. They’re good guys, and I’m sure you’ll both have a great time.”

Mikan laughed again, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. She liked the idea, in theory, but the thought of going on a blind date with a complete stranger, especially after everything with Natsume, made her uneasy.

“Honestly, I’m not sure about this whole blind date thing…” Mikan admitted. “I mean, it’s a little… unexpected.”

“We’re just trying to make sure you two have some fun,” Nonoko said with a wink. “You’ve done so much for us, and we think you both deserve to relax and enjoy a night out. Plus, I’ve got the perfect couple lined up for you.”

Hotaru raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything immediately. She was clearly intrigued by the idea. “Okay, fine, we’ll go along with it. But only because you two insisted.”

Mikan hesitated for a moment but then sighed, realizing she was probably going to have to go along with this. After all, it was their way of showing gratitude.

“I guess one date won’t hurt,” she said reluctantly. “But I’m warning you, if I end up sitting across from someone who talks too much about his collection of rare stamps, I’m blaming you two.”

Anna and Nonoko laughed, their eyes sparkling with excitement. “Deal!” they exclaimed in unison. “You won’t regret it. It’ll be a fun night, we promise!”

As they continued to chat and enjoy their dinner, Mikan couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth in her chest. She knew that no matter how strange and unexpected this blind date might be, it was another opportunity to bond with her friends and take a step toward moving on from her more complicated feelings.

And besides, she thought with a quiet smile, she had nothing to lose. A little fun might be just what she needed.

A few days after Nonoko and Anna had organized the blind date, the four girls—Mikan, Hotaru, Nonoko, and Anna—found themselves sitting at a table in a cozy restaurant. The restaurant was bustling with the evening crowd, and the soft hum of conversation filled the air as they waited for their dates to arrive. Mikan could feel the nervous energy in the air. She’d never been on a blind date before, and while she was grateful for the gesture, she couldn’t help but feel a bit apprehensive.

The four of them were sitting in the same row, and Mikan couldn’t help but glance at the clock, wondering when their dates would arrive. Hotaru, ever the calm and collected one, was sipping her drink, unfazed. Nonoko and Anna, on the other hand, were practically bursting with excitement, checking their phones to make sure everything was going according to plan. Mikan, though, was feeling a strange mix of curiosity and hesitation. She wasn’t sure what she expected from tonight, but she knew one thing for sure—she wasn’t quite ready to open her heart to someone new. Not yet.

Finally, the door to the restaurant opened, and the four boys entered together. Mikan’s gaze flickered over them as they made their way toward the table, each of them looking a bit out of place, like they were unsure of what to expect from this evening.

The first to arrive was Yû Tobita, a tall and easygoing guy with a warm smile. His messy hair and laid-back aura made him instantly approachable. Behind him was Kokoro Yomi, a quiet guy with sharp features and a mysterious air about him. Next came Kitsu Neme, a bit shorter than the others but with an undeniably charismatic presence. And finally, there was Mochi Age, who seemed the most nervous of the group, adjusting his glasses as he looked around, trying to find his bearings.

Nonoko and Anna immediately greeted them, their excitement palpable. Mikan gave a polite smile as she exchanged introductions, but inside, she felt a little disconnected. They were all so different, and while she wasn’t sure what to expect from the evening, she couldn’t help but feel a little detached.

Once everyone was settled and the menus had been handed out, Mikan found herself sitting next to Yû. He was easy to talk to, his smile warm and welcoming. He asked her about her job at the jewelry store, and Mikan found herself chatting with him about her busy days, the customers she dealt with, and the odd requests that sometimes came through the door. Yû was a good listener, nodding along and offering his own anecdotes in return.

“You know, I’ve always admired how people who work in stores like yours can handle customers,” Yû said with a chuckle. “I mean, I’d probably lose my patience if I had to deal with that all day.”

Mikan laughed softly, feeling a sense of camaraderie with him. “It can be tough sometimes, but it has its perks. Like helping someone find the perfect gift. That’s always nice.”

“I bet,” Yû said, smiling. “I’ve been in a few jewelry stores myself, but honestly, I’ve never really understood the appeal of jewelry. I guess I’m just a little too… unrefined for it.”

Mikan chuckled at his self-deprecating tone. “It’s not for everyone. But I think it’s kind of nice. It’s like a little piece of art that you can wear, you know?”

Yû nodded thoughtfully. “I see what you mean. I guess I’ve just never had the time to really appreciate it.”

As the evening went on, Mikan and Yû discovered more common ground. They both enjoyed hiking, both liked quiet cafes, and both had a soft spot for old movies. It was easy to talk to him, and Mikan found herself relaxing as the conversation flowed naturally. But there was something in her gut, something she couldn’t shake, that told her she wouldn’t be seeing Yû as more than just a friend. He was pleasant, kind, and easy to talk to, but her heart wasn’t racing. There was no spark, no flutter in her chest that she was used to when she thought about someone special.

Yû, for his part, seemed genuinely interested in getting to know Mikan. He smiled at her with a warmth that made her feel comfortable, but Mikan couldn’t help but notice that he was a bit too casual, too friendly. She found herself mentally comparing him to Natsume, though she quickly dismissed the thought. Natsume was far different from Yû. He was mysterious, intense, and even when he wasn’t trying, he had a way of pulling people’s attention toward him. Yû, on the other hand, was easygoing and lacked the sharp edges that made someone like Natsume so captivating.

The dinner passed by relatively quickly, with the four of them chatting, laughing, and occasionally teasing each other. Mikan was thankful that the evening wasn’t as awkward as she had imagined it might be. The boys were pleasant enough, and the atmosphere was light. But when it came time for the evening to wind down, Mikan couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. As much as she had enjoyed the conversation with Yû, she knew deep down that this wasn’t going anywhere.

“Thanks for tonight,” Mikan said with a smile as the evening drew to a close. “It was really fun.”

Yû smiled back, his eyes kind. “Yeah, it was. I’m glad we got to hang out. Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

Mikan paused for a moment before replying, feeling the weight of her own thoughts. “Sure,” she said, offering a polite smile. "Why not.”

As she said goodbye to everyone, Mikan felt a wave of mixed emotions. She appreciated the effort they’d all put into the evening, and she was glad her friends had such good intentions, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t ready for any of this. She hadn’t felt a spark with Yû, and deep down, she knew she wasn’t in the right place to start something new with anyone—not yet, anyway.

Mikan’s mind wandered back to the past, to a time when she had been in a completely different place emotionally. It had been almost two years since her breakup with her ex, the man she had thought would be the one. They had been together for five years—her longest relationship. Their connection had been easy, effortless, like two halves of a whole. He had been everything to her: her partner, her confidant, her best friend. They had met at university, and from the beginning, it had felt like destiny. They were close in everything, shared hobbies, dreams, and even a sense of humor. Mikan had never doubted that he was the one she would marry.

She had imagined the proposal countless times. She had imagined him taking her hand and asking her to spend forever with him, and she had never questioned it. But that dream had come crashing down one evening when everything changed.

She could still remember the look in his eyes when he told her. He had confessed that he had met someone else—an office colleague, someone he had fallen in love with. Mikan’s world had tilted, and everything had felt wrong, out of place. She remembered staring at him, barely comprehending his words, the words that shattered everything they had built together.

“I’m sorry, Mikan,” he had said, his voice tight with emotion, but also resolute. “I think I need to be with her.”

It was the moment she realized that the person she had trusted most in the world could so easily walk away, leaving her in a sea of confusion and pain.

She had been devastated. How could he just leave? How could he fall in love with someone else so easily after everything they had shared?

The days after the breakup felt like a blur. She had tried to hold it together, to focus on work, but it was like her world had been torn apart. She had spent countless nights crying into her pillow, feeling as though she had lost a part of herself. The person who had been her closest companion, the one she had confided in more than anyone, was suddenly gone. There was no closure, no explanation, just a broken heart and an empty space where love used to be.

As time passed, Mikan had tried to move on. She hadn’t wanted to stay stuck in the past, but the wounds were still fresh. She couldn’t forget how he had been her best friend—someone who had always been there, someone she could talk to about anything. And then one day, he had simply stopped being that person. How could she trust again when the one person she had trusted most had let her down so completely?

That’s why, when she met Natsume, things were different. He was a famous singer, someone far removed from the quiet, stable life she had known. He was a world away from the kind of relationship she had had with her ex. And though Mikan tried to push her feelings aside, to keep them under control, they had crept up on her, becoming stronger with each passing day.

But deep down, she knew it wouldn’t work. Her feelings for Natsume were just that—feelings, fleeting and unfulfilled. He was out of her reach. Even if she had thought for a moment that he might notice her, the reality was that he lived in a world so different from hers. They could never be together. She couldn’t imagine being in a relationship with someone who lived so publicly, who was constantly surrounded by fans and press, a life that seemed worlds apart from what she had known.

But more than that, she wasn’t ready for any of it. She wasn’t ready to love again. Not like this. Not after everything that had happened with her ex. The wound was still raw. The hurt still lingered, and she wasn’t sure if she could trust her heart again, not even for someone like Natsume.

The thought of being in love with a famous singer, someone so unreachable, only reminded her of the messiness of her own emotions, and the fear that maybe, just maybe, she was still holding onto a dream that wasn’t meant to be.

Mikan sighed softly, realizing with a sense of clarity that she needed time. Time to heal, time to understand herself better, and time to let go of the past before she could even think about what came next.

When Mikan was feeling tired and stressed, she would throw herself into her work. It was her escape, her sanctuary. The bustling jewelry store was a place where she could focus entirely on something else, leaving behind the overwhelming weight of her thoughts. The delicate craftsmanship of the pieces, the shimmering diamonds, and the soft glow of precious stones would calm her mind. She found comfort in the small details—the way the light caught the facets of a ring, or the way a necklace’s chain felt smooth against her fingertips.

Mikan loved everything about jewelry—the artistry behind it, the stories it could tell, and how it could bring joy to others. She loved helping customers find the perfect piece, whether it was for a special occasion or a small treat to brighten someone’s day. It was one of those rare moments when she felt like everything was in its right place. Work was a space where she could put everything else aside and just focus on making others happy.

But it wasn’t just about helping others. Mikan had a soft spot for jewelry herself. It was a guilty pleasure she indulged in from time to time. She wasn’t a shopaholic, but every so often, a piece would catch her eye, and she would find herself unable to resist. It wasn’t about the price or the fame of the brand—no, it was the feeling the piece gave her. The delicate gleam of a pair of earrings, the warmth of a simple gold bracelet—it was something that spoke to her heart, reminding her that beauty and joy could still exist in the small things.

Mikan had a small collection of jewelry she had bought over the years. Some were gifts to herself after particularly challenging days, while others were pieces that had simply caught her attention. There was a small silver ring with a sapphire stone she had bought on a whim, and a delicate chain necklace with a star-shaped pendant she’d found during a trip. She loved them all, and even though she wasn’t someone who wore jewelry all the time, they each held a special meaning.

And then there was Hotaru. Mikan had always shared a special bond with her best friend, one that transcended the usual friendship. Mikan trusted Hotaru like no one else, and when it came to gifts, she was always thinking of her. Hotaru’s birthday had come up a few months ago, and Mikan had decided to buy her something that felt as unique and beautiful as she was. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but it was a piece that she knew would mean something to Hotaru—a sleek, modern bracelet with a small, subtle engraving on the inside that read “Strong and Unyielding.”

Hotaru, always the pragmatic one, had been shocked at first. She was not the type to wear jewelry often, but when she saw the engraving, something softened in her usual sharp demeanor. She smiled, a rare sight, and had slipped the bracelet onto her wrist immediately. It was a small gesture, but Mikan was happy knowing that something she’d chosen could hold such meaning.

Work kept Mikan busy, but every time she took a break or found a moment of quiet, she would glance at the pieces of jewelry in her small collection. They reminded her that despite the stresses of life—whether it was work, her personal struggles, or the lingering uncertainty about her feelings—there were still beautiful things to hold onto. Jewelry, to her, was more than just shiny objects. It was a way to capture moments, memories, and emotions that couldn’t always be expressed in words.

March rolled in with a quiet, steady pace. The bustling energy of Christmas and Valentine's Day had passed, but the jewelry store still hummed with activity, albeit at a more subdued level. There were fewer customers, but the arrival of spring brought a fresh wave of tourists. Mikan found herself embracing this shift. It was a change of pace, a breath of fresh air after the hectic holiday season.

She loved the interactions with the tourists. It was always a pleasant challenge to speak in English, something she’d grown fond of over the years. Every time she practiced, it felt like she was not only improving her language skills but also connecting with people from different parts of the world. They would ask about the jewelry, and Mikan would tell them about the pieces with the same passion she always had, but this time, the conversation was tinged with the added joy of sharing something from her own culture.

She loved hearing their accents and expressions, and the way their eyes lit up when they understood her perfectly. It was a nice reminder that there were different kinds of beauty in the world—different ways of looking at things, of communicating. With each interaction, Mikan felt more at ease in her role. She was no longer just a girl who sold jewelry; she was a bridge between cultures, a small link that connected people in ways that sometimes felt deeper than the mere exchange of goods.

As March passed into April, the rhythm of life seemed to slow a little. The rush of tourists continued, but Mikan was finding her own personal balance once again. She had started to feel more like herself after the intensity of the holidays, the exhaustion, and the lingering thoughts of Natsume. Spring was here, and with it, a chance for new beginnings.

One afternoon, Hotaru and Mikan decided to take a break from their usual routines. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, and the parks were alive with soft pink petals drifting on the breeze. It was one of those rare, peaceful moments that felt timeless. Hotaru, always the practical one, suggested they take a walk. She knew that Mikan could use some fresh air, and Mikan agreed with a grateful smile.

They walked along the paths lined with cherry trees, the delicate blossoms falling gently around them like confetti. The weather was mild, and the sunlight filtered through the branches, casting soft shadows on the ground. The sight of the cherry blossoms, with their fleeting beauty, seemed to calm Mikan’s mind. The weight she had been carrying—over the past months and the confusion about her feelings—seemed lighter with each step. There was something grounding in the simplicity of the moment.

Hotaru, as usual, was the one to break the silence. "You’re looking better," she remarked, her voice warm but matter-of-fact. "You’ve been taking care of yourself."

Mikan chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, I think so. I’ve been trying to focus on work, and it helps clear my head. And the store’s been busy with the tourists, so I’ve had my hands full."

"Good. You need it," Hotaru said. "But don’t forget to take breaks, too. You can’t pour from an empty cup."

Mikan smiled, touched by her friend's concern. "I know. I just needed some time to sort things out." She paused, glancing around at the peaceful surroundings. "This is nice, though. I’ve missed moments like this."

The two of them walked in companionable silence for a while, taking in the beauty of the park. The air was filled with the scent of fresh grass and flowers, and Mikan felt her chest relax, her shoulders loosening from the tension that had held her for so long. The weight of uncertainty, especially concerning her feelings for Natsume, seemed to fade into the background. It wasn’t gone—she still thought about him—but in this quiet space, she could breathe without the constant reminder.

They stopped by a small pond where a group of children were playing nearby, their laughter carrying in the air. Mikan sat down on the edge, watching as the light shimmered on the water, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the pattern of the stone beneath her.

"It’s nice to just... exist sometimes," Mikan murmured softly. "Not having to think about anything for a while."

Hotaru, standing beside her, nodded silently, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The cherry blossoms fluttered around them, and for a moment, it felt like time had paused.

"It’s okay to take time for yourself, you know," Hotaru said. "You’ve been through a lot, and you’ve been pushing forward, but it’s okay to stop and breathe."

Mikan gave her a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Hotaru. I think I needed to hear that."

With the day winding down, they decided to grab a coffee from a nearby café before heading back. It was a small moment, but it was enough for Mikan. It reminded her that even in the middle of the chaos, she could find peace. She wasn’t fully healed yet, but she was getting there. Slowly, but surely.

The Kuro Neko concert was just a month away, but to Mikan, it felt like an eternity. The countdown had begun, and each passing day seemed to drag on, stretching the time until she could see him perform again. It had been months since their brief encounter in December, when he had wished her a Merry Christmas in the lift and then disappeared into his own busy world. Since then, Mikan had barely heard from him. He hadn't returned to the building, and every time she rode the lift, she found herself unconsciously glancing at the door, wondering if he'd suddenly show up, if he'd ask her to wait for him.

But it never happened.

Mikan could never completely shake the feeling of longing, but slowly, she found herself slipping back into the familiar rhythm of being a fan. The man she had known as Natsume, the man, was becoming more of a distant memory, slipping further away from her everyday life. She had stopped waiting for signs, stopped expecting surprises.

Instead, she returned to the way things used to be—appreciating his music, that was where her connection with him had always been most genuine. She would play his songs, each note reminding her of the early days when they had first met. The melodies that had once felt so personal to her now felt like they belonged to everyone again, and Mikan found solace in them. She could lose herself in the music, in the emotions it evoked, without worrying about whether or not she'd see him again.

It was easier this way, she told herself. There were fewer complications. Kuro Neko, the singer, was just a voice that she could admire from afar, and nothing more. She could be content with that, or at least try to be.

The store was busier than ever, and the distraction of helping customers, arranging jewelry, and occasionally laughing with Hotaru and Ichigo kept her mind occupied. She still couldn't deny the occasional pang in her chest when she thought of Natsume, but it was fading, becoming quieter with each passing day.

It was better this way, Mikan thought again. She wasn’t in a place to be close to him, not the way she had once imagined. Her heart was still tender from the past, from the heartbreak of her last relationship, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to open it to someone—especially someone like Natsume, who lived such a different life. She had learned the hard way that sometimes, the distance between reality and fantasy was too wide to bridge.

As the date of the concert grew closer, Mikan’s heart settled into a quiet understanding. She had accepted that her connection with Natsume would remain just that—an admiration from afar, rooted in his music, the songs that had resonated deeply with her since the very beginning. The thought of him no longer carried the weight of longing or uncertainty. She knew now that when the time came, she would be in the audience, surrounded by the energy of the crowd, enjoying his performance as a fan, and nothing more.

There would be no more wondering if he would show up in the lift, no more wondering if he would ask her to wait for him or if their paths would cross again in some unexpected way. Those days of hesitation, when she held onto the hope of something more, were behind her. The reality was clearer now: Natsume had his world, his career, his life, and Mikan had hers. She couldn’t keep chasing something that had always been just a dream. And so, she prepared herself to enjoy the concert for what it was—a celebration of his artistry, a chance to experience the music that had first brought them together.

She imagined herself sitting among the crowd, surrounded by people who admired him as she did, feeling the pulse of the music as it vibrated through the air. It would be enough, she told herself. There was something beautiful about being able to appreciate someone’s work without the weight of personal attachment, to lose herself in the moment, in the performance, without wondering about the space between them. She would be just one face in the sea of fans, cheering for the artist, and that was more than enough.

The memories they had shared—those fleeting moments in the building, those conversations, the shared glances—would stay with her, but they wouldn’t weigh her down anymore. She had grown stronger since then, learning to let go, to release the fantasies and accept that sometimes things didn’t turn out the way you hoped. She wasn’t the girl who had secretly pined for him anymore.

There was no more need for expectations, no more what-ifs. His music had already given her more than enough to hold onto. And that, she realized, was more than enough for her.

Chapter Text

The evening of the concert had finally arrived, and the excitement was palpable as Mikan, Hotaru, Anna, and Nonoko gathered at Anna's apartment, just a short walk from the concert hall. The air was filled with the buzz of anticipation as they helped each other get ready for the night ahead, knowing that it was going to be an unforgettable experience.

Mikan stood in front of Anna's full-length mirror, admiring herself for the first time in a while. She had chosen a sleek, black jumpsuit that fit her perfectly, accentuating her figure while remaining comfortable enough for a night of standing and dancing. The outfit was simple, yet elegant, with a high neckline and a subtle sheen to the fabric that caught the light in a way that made her feel confident and beautiful. She paired it with a silver bracelet and small hoop earrings, adding just a touch of sparkle. Her makeup was understated but polished, a hint of mascara and a soft nude lip gloss, allowing her natural beauty to shine through.

Anna, ever the trendsetter, was dressed in a soft pastel pink outfit. She wore a flowy blouse with delicate lace details around the collar, paired with a pleated skirt that twirled elegantly with every step. The color suited her perfectly, highlighting her bright personality and bringing out the warmth in her skin. She had added a few subtle silver accessories to complement her look, and her hair was styled in soft waves, framing her face in a way that made her look like she had just stepped out of a magazine.

Nonoko, who was never afraid to keep things casual yet stylish, wore a pair of high-waisted jeans and a light blue top with long sleeves, the color of the sky at dawn. The outfit was simple but effortlessly chic, and she looked stunning. She paired it with a delicate necklace and opted for a more natural makeup look, with a light dusting of blush and a swipe of mascara that made her eyes sparkle. She was excited for the night ahead, her energy contagious as she flashed her friends a grin.

Hotaru, as always, stood out in her unique and cool fashion sense. She had chosen a pair of black shorts paired with tights, balancing out her look with a dark purple t-shirt that had a bold graphic design on it. The color made her stand out from the crowd, and her outfit radiated confidence and style, a little rebellious, but undeniably her. She accessorized with chunky boots and silver rings, adding a bit of edge to the overall look. Her hair was neatly styled, and she looked effortlessly chic as she checked herself out in the mirror.

With their looks perfected, the four friends laughed and admired each other. It was clear that each one had put effort into their outfits, but the excitement of the night ahead was far more important than the details of their clothes. They all couldn’t wait for the concert, but what excited them even more was the special access they had—thanks to their VIP passes.

As they gathered their bags and checked their phones for the time, Anna’s house was filled with an infectious energy. "I can't believe it's finally here," Anna said, practically bouncing with excitement. "This is going to be so much fun!"

"We are going to have the best time," Nonoko chimed in, unable to hide her grin.

"Let’s not forget, VIP passes," Hotaru teased, winking at Mikan. "We're going to get the best view in the house."

Mikan laughed, her nerves slipping away with the support of her friends. "I know, I can’t wait either."

They made their way to the concert hall, chatting and laughing along the way. The streets felt alive with the excitement of the evening as they walked through the bustling city, passing groups of people who were also heading to the concert. When they arrived at the entrance of the venue, the atmosphere was electric, the air filled with the sound of fans chatting excitedly and the anticipation of the show ahead.

The line for general admission was long, but with their VIP passes in hand, they breezed through the gates. The security guard gave them a nod, ushering them inside, and they were quickly led to a special section with an incredible view of the stage. Mikan’s heart raced as they walked through the VIP area, knowing that they were about to experience something truly special.

The four of them stood together, taking in the crowd, the stage, and the shimmering lights, all the while laughing and whispering excitedly about what was about to come. Mikan felt her nerves fluttering once more, but this time, it wasn’t from anxiety about meeting Natsume or wondering if he would notice her. It was the thrill of being at a live concert, surrounded by fans who shared her love for his music.

"This is going to be amazing," Anna said, her eyes wide as she looked around the venue. "I can't believe we’re so close!"

Hotaru nodded, her face lit with a smirk. "Get ready for a night you won’t forget."

As they settled into their seats, Mikan glanced around at her friends. They were all here together, enjoying the experience as fans, and that was enough. The music, the excitement, the energy in the air—it was all perfect. The concert was about to begin, and Mikan felt her heart beat faster in anticipation. She was ready to be part of the crowd, to immerse herself in the moment and just enjoy the night. It was exactly what she needed.

The lights in the concert hall dimmed, and the atmosphere shifted as the crowd let out a collective cheer. The stage was bathed in a soft blue light, and the sound of anticipation buzzed through the air. Mikan's heart raced as she and her friends exchanged excited glances. They were here, in the front row of the VIP section, ready to experience the magic of Kuro Neko live in concert.

As the first few notes of the opening song began, the energy in the room surged. The crowd erupted into applause, and the loud cheers echoed throughout the hall. Mikan felt the music hit her like a wave, the rhythm vibrating in her chest, as the rest of the audience joined in the chorus of excitement.

When Kuro Neko emerged onto the stage, Mikan's breath caught in her throat. The black lenses that usually covered his eyes were gone, replaced with nothing but the intensity of his gaze. His signature hoodie was also nowhere to be found, revealing his chiseled features and sleek black hair. In the harsh stage lights, he looked even more striking—handsome in a way that left Mikan speechless. The way his eyes scanned the crowd, confident and magnetic, made her pulse quicken.

His voice soared, effortlessly blending with the beat of the music, as the crowd cheered for every note. Mikan stood with her friends, clapping and dancing along to the music, swept away by the intoxicating atmosphere. The energy was contagious, and soon, she found herself singing along, letting the rhythm take over her body. Hotaru, Anna, and Nonoko were all laughing and dancing around her, fully immersed in the moment.

Mikan’s thoughts faded as she let herself get lost in the music. She could feel every beat, every note, in her chest. The loud thump of the bass reverberated through her body, syncing with the rhythm of her heart. She swayed with the crowd, her feet moving instinctively to the melody, her hands in the air, clapping and cheering.

As the night carried on, the atmosphere at the concert hall reached an exhilarating peak. The loud cheers and claps seemed to fade into the background as the stage lights shifted to a softer glow. A new energy filled the air, one that Mikan couldn’t ignore. The familiar voice of Kuro Neko filled the room, but this time, the music was slower, more sensual, with an intimate tone. It was a side of him that Mikan hadn’t heard before—a deeper, more personal version of the artist she admired.

He began the opening lines of his new song, "Privacy," and Mikan felt an unexpected rush of emotions.

I'm on the way to pick you up now

The soft beat of the music thrummed through her, almost like a heartbeat. The words seemed to caress the room, and Mikan couldn't help but be drawn into them. His voice was warm and smooth, carrying a tone of secrecy, almost like a promise, an invitation into his world. Her eyes locked on him, captivated by the vulnerable power of his presence on stage.

Nevermind the "me" that everyone knows

The lyrics felt as though they were speaking directly to Mikan. She couldn't deny that there was something about the song that made her feel as though Kuro Neko was reaching out to her personally, even though she knew he was performing for the crowd. Still, the words lingered in the air, tugging at her thoughts, making her wonder if he saw her in the same way.

The atmosphere felt charged with emotion as the melody swirled in the background. Kuro Neko’s voice was rich with longing, but there was a gentle edge to it that made Mikan feel strangely calm, as if he was telling her everything would be okay.

The secret only between us, It's not even on profile

Mikan’s heart skipped at the line. It felt intimate, personal. His eyes swept across the crowd, but Mikan couldn’t help but believe, just for a moment, that he was looking at her with that same intensity. The music seemed to echo her feelings—how she, too, wanted a connection, wanted something more than just being a face in the crowd. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but in that moment, Kuro Neko’s gaze and the song's lyrics felt like they were wrapping around her heart, pulling her in.

Where the main characters are obviously you and me

The words flowed smoothly, with Kuro Neko's voice tender yet commanding. Mikan let herself fall into the moment, letting the music take over. The idea of privacy, of keeping something sacred and protected, resonated deeply with her. She had spent so long hiding her emotions, keeping her true feelings buried for fear of being hurt. But here, in this crowd, with his voice guiding her, she felt a strange sense of liberation. The music wrapped around her like a secret they shared.

I want to know you, don't hide it from me

Mikan’s chest tightened. The promise in his words made her feel as though the world outside the concert hall had melted away. For just a few minutes, it was as if Kuro Neko’s voice was an anchor, keeping her grounded. It was a sweet, comforting illusion, but one that she cherished nonetheless. She swayed gently to the music, feeling an almost hypnotic connection with the song.

The crowd around her continued to cheer and sing, but Mikan couldn’t take her eyes off Kuro Neko. He had stepped closer to the edge of the stage, his gaze moving through the sea of faces, but it was as if the world around them had blurred. In that instant, it was just her and him—two souls connected by the music. Her breath caught when his eyes briefly met hers, and for a fleeting moment, she swore she could see recognition in them.

But the moment was gone as quickly as it came.

From now on, you too are my privacy

Mikan’s pulse quickened as the final notes of the song played out. The intimacy of the lyrics, combined with the way Kuro Neko poured his emotions into the song, left her breathless. It was as though the whole arena had faded away, leaving only her and the connection she felt to the music, to the artist who had unknowingly touched her heart.

The song ended, but Mikan felt a lingering warmth from the experience. The crowd cheered, the lights blazed, and the beat of the next song began to pulse through the air, but inside, Mikan was still caught in the memory of "Privacy." She had felt a deep connection to the song, a fleeting sense of closeness with Kuro Neko that made her heart ache in the most bittersweet way.

After the concert, the girls were buzzing with excitement. They had danced, sung, and felt the electric energy that filled the hall. The atmosphere was still humming as they walked out into the cool night air, the sounds of the crowd slowly fading behind them.

Mikan’s heart was still racing, her thoughts spinning around the performance, the music, and that fleeting moment during the new song. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Kuro Neko had seen her—that his eyes had briefly locked onto hers with a recognition that felt almost personal. It was silly, she knew, but the feeling lingered, like a whisper in her mind.

“Did you guys see that?” Anna asked, excitement still evident in her voice as they strolled through the concert venue’s exit. “Kuro Neko was amazing tonight! I swear, he was singing right to me during that one song!”

“Me too!” Nonoko chimed in, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. “I was so close to the stage, I almost lost my mind!”

Hotaru, ever calm but with a smirk on her lips, gave a light laugh. “You two are so dramatic. But I get it. The atmosphere was electric.”

Mikan nodded, her smile soft but a little distant. She didn’t have the same reaction as the others. While they were still buzzing with the energy of the concert, Mikan was lost in her own thoughts. She had danced and sung along, but in the back of her mind, there had been something more. The way the lyrics had seemed to speak to her, the intimacy of Kuro Neko’s performance, and—most of all—how she had felt when he looked at her during that song.

“Are you okay, Mikan?” Hotaru’s voice pulled her out of her reverie. The others were chatting around her, but Hotaru had noticed Mikan’s distracted expression. She tilted her head, her gaze soft but knowing.

Mikan blinked, feeling a little caught off guard. “Yeah, I’m fine… just thinking.”

Nonoko nudged her playfully. “Thinking about how handsome he is? I feel you!”

Mikan chuckled softly, looking up at the night sky. The city lights glimmered around her, but her thoughts were elsewhere, still lingering on the concert. She knew it was a fantasy—a fleeting moment that would likely fade as quickly as it had come. But for tonight, at least, she allowed herself to hold onto it, to enjoy the feeling of being seen, even if it was just for a brief instant.

“Maybe it was just the magic of the concert,” Mikan said with a sigh, finally letting go of the lingering emotions. “I don’t know.”

“You’re overthinking it,” Hotaru said, placing a hand on Mikan’s shoulder.

Mikan nodded, though a part of her still held onto the small spark that had ignited during the song.

As they reached Anna’s house, the girls said their goodbyes, the evening winding down. Mikan’s mind was still swirling, but she knew it was time to move on, to let go of the fleeting feeling that had taken hold of her heart.

Mikan and Hotaru walked back together, the night air cool and peaceful as the buzz of the concert slowly faded behind them. The streets were quieter now, and their footsteps echoed softly as they made their way home. When they entered their building, Mikan paused in front of the lift, her thoughts still lingering on him. Hotaru glanced at her, sensing the quiet reflection in her.

"You okay?" Hotaru asked, her voice soft as always, her eyes full of understanding.

Mikan nodded with a small smile. "Yeah."

They entered the lift together, the soft hum of the lift filling the brief silence between them. When the doors opened, Mikan stepped out first, giving Hotaru a nod. "Goodnight," she said, her voice a little quieter than usual.

"Goodnight, Mikan," Hotaru replied, watching her friend disappear down the hallway toward her apartment.

Mikan sighed as she reached her door, unlocking it and stepping inside. The warmth of her home greeted her, but she felt a weight in her chest. She hung up her coat and kicked off her shoes before heading to the bathroom. The hot water from the shower helped wash away the tension from the night, but her mind remained active, replaying the moments from the concert and everything she had felt. She didn’t know why, but something about it—the energy, the music, the connection—had stirred something in her.

After her shower, Mikan slipped into her pajamas and made her way to the couch, settling down with a soft sigh. The quiet of her apartment was a stark contrast to the vibrant atmosphere of the concert. She sank into the cushions, her thoughts drifting again to the event. But no matter how much she tried to relax, sleep wouldn’t come. Her mind was too restless, replaying every detail of the concert—the music, the crowd, Kuro Neko’s gaze.

She tossed and turned for a while, her thoughts tangled in a mix of excitement and uncertainty. She couldn't help but wonder what that fleeting moment had meant—if it had meant anything at all. It wasn’t like her to obsess over something so small, but there it was, taking over her mind. The warmth of the concert hall, the music, and the rush of energy she had felt when Kuro Neko had been so close—it all left her with a strange, unsettling feeling she couldn’t shake.

Mikan spent the rest of the night on her couch, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city beyond her windows. She pulled a blanket around her shoulders, her mind circling endlessly around the same points.

Her favorite singer—Kuro Neko—was disguising himself to visit a friend, who, strangely enough, turned out to be her new neighbor. The absurdity of it all made her shake her head. How had she stumbled into the middle of such a surreal situation? And to top it off, she had discovered the secret, negotiated concert tickets in exchange for her silence, and attended the concert. It should all be over now. The deal had been honored, the contract fulfilled.

Yet, it didn’t feel over.

Kuro Neko’s new song replayed in her mind on an endless loop, the melody haunting her. The lyrics tugged at her, pulling at the edges of her reason. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there had been something more in his performance, something meant for her. But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? She was imagining things that didn’t exist, reading into a moment that wasn’t hers to claim.

Still, she couldn’t dismiss the confusion that gnawed at her. It was one thing to feel a fleeting attraction to a man you occasionally met in an lift, exchanging a few polite words. That kind of infatuation was harmless, fleeting. But this?

This was something entirely different.

It was as if Natsume and Kuro Neko had somehow merged, their identities weaving together in her mind, their words and actions blurring into a single narrative that seemed to speak directly to her. The song felt too personal, too pointed, and it left her questioning everything.

Mikan hugged her knees to her chest, trying to sort through the mess of emotions swirling inside her. Was she projecting her own feelings onto him? Or had there truly been something more in the way he had looked at her, the way he had sung? She couldn’t tell anymore.

The rational part of her knew better. He was a famous artist, admired by countless fans. She was just another face in the crowd, a fleeting acquaintance at best. Yet, her heart whispered doubts, clinging to the small, impossible hope that she was wrong.

She sighed, letting her head fall back against the couch cushions. "What am I even doing?" she muttered to herself, her voice barely audible in the stillness.

The answer didn’t come, but the questions remained, lingering in the quiet as the night stretched on.

A few days after the concert, life had returned to its usual rhythm for Mikan—or so she tried to convince herself. The jewelry store kept her busy during the day, and her evenings were filled with attempts to drown out the lingering thoughts of him. Yet, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t completely push it from her mind.

That morning, as she stepped out of her flat, she noticed the lift doors were about to close. "Hold the door, please!" she called, quickening her pace.

A hand darted out to stop the doors, and Mikan slipped inside, breathless. "Thanks," she said, not immediately looking up as she straightened her bag.

“No problem.”

The voice froze her in place. Deep, familiar, and unmistakably his. Slowly, Mikan raised her eyes to meet Natsume’s. He was standing on the opposite side of the lift, his dark gaze cool and unreadable.

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. It was the first time she’d seen him up close since December, and the months apart had done nothing to lessen the effect he had on her. Dressed in a dark jacket and casual jeans, he looked effortlessly composed, his hands tucked into his pockets. The faint trace of a smirk tugged at his lips, as if he knew exactly how flustered she was.

“Hyuga,” she finally managed, her voice catching slightly.

“Mikan.” He nodded in acknowledgment, his tone as calm as if they had seen each other just yesterday.

The lift doors slid shut, and the silence that followed was heavy with unspoken tension. Mikan fidgeted with the strap of her bag, her mind racing for something—anything—to say. She didn’t trust herself to speak about the concert or the song.

“It’s been a while,” she said at last, her voice hesitant but steady enough.

Natsume leaned back slightly, his eyes fixed on her. “It has.”

Another silence fell between them, and Mikan’s thoughts spiraled. Did he know she had been at the concert? Did he see her in the crowd? And, most importantly, was she imagining the faint flicker of amusement in his expression?

“Back from touring already?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual.

“Just a short break.” His gaze didn’t waver, and there was something about the way he was looking at her that made her heart skip.

Mikan was about to ask another question when the lift chimed, signaling the ground floor. She stepped forward, pausing as she turned back toward him. “Well... it was nice seeing you again.”

Natsume’s smirk softened into something almost genuine. “Same.”

As the doors began to close behind her, Mikan caught one last glimpse of him, walking behind her with that infuriatingly calm demeanor. Her pulse was racing as she walked to the station, the brief encounter replaying in her mind.

The chaos started quietly enough—a single photo circulating on social media, claiming to show Kuro Neko leaving Mikan and Hotaru building late at night, his hood pulled low. At first, Mikan dismissed it. After all, the photo was grainy, and the building was home to plenty of residents. It could have been anyone.

But by midday, the situation had spiraled. The image had gone viral, with fans speculating and reporters piecing together theories about what Kuro Neko might have been doing there. By the time Mikan left work that evening, her nerves were frayed.

When she reached her street, the sight made her heart drop—a crowd of journalists and curious fans had gathered outside her building, cameras flashing and questions flying at anyone who passed by.

Her stomach clenched as she approached the scene, trying to appear calm.

"Miss, do you live here?"
"Did you see Kuro Neko last night?"
"Are you connected to him in any way?"

She kept her head down, gripping her bag tightly, and pushed through the crowd without responding. Her chest tightened as the shouts grew louder.

Once inside the lobby, she exhaled shakily, glancing around to ensure no one had followed her. The lift was there, waiting, but she hesitated. If anyone had seen her take it, they might guess the floor she lived on.

Instead, she took the stairs, climbing quickly but quietly, her heart pounding with every step. When she finally reached her apartment, she locked the door behind her and leaned against it, catching her breath.

Hotaru was already inside her apartment, seated on the couch with her laptop open. “I assume you saw the circus outside?” she asked, not looking up.

Mikan nodded, sinking into the chair across from her. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Hotaru raised an eyebrow. “It’s manageable. No one has concrete proof of anything, and the residents they’ve interviewed aren’t talking.”

“Thank goodness,” Mikan muttered, rubbing her temples. “No one has made the connection between the man in black and Kuro Neko.”

Hotaru’s tone remained steady. “The anonymity of this building works in our favor. The only reason this got out is because of that single photo. No one has connected it to you or me.”

The reassurance helped, but Mikan couldn’t shake the tension in her chest. Over the next few days, the journalists persisted, camping outside the building and questioning anyone who entered or left. Mikan continued to take the stairs, avoiding any unnecessary attention.

Slowly, the crowd began to dwindle. The story lost its initial momentum, replaced by newer scandals and distractions. By the end of the week, only a handful of die-hard fans remained, hoping for a glimpse of their elusive idol.

When Mikan finally ventured out to buy groceries without fear of being ambushed, she allowed herself a moment of relief. No photos or videos had surfaced of her or Hotaru, and no one seemed to suspect that either of them had any connection to Kuro Neko.

As she returned home that evening, she couldn’t help but glance toward the lobby, half-expecting him to appear, hood up, his face hidden in shadows. But the space was empty.

Mikan let a nervous laugh escape her lips, shaking her head at her own thoughts. Now that the rumor was out, the likelihood of Natsume returning to the building seemed slim. Would he even risk coming back? The idea left a strange hollowness in her chest, one she couldn’t quite explain.

She hadn’t seen any sign of Luca, either. The apartment across from hers had been quiet—no footsteps, no faint sounds of music through the walls. It was as though he had vanished overnight. But then again, Narumi had mentioned that Luca moved frequently, never staying in one place for too long. Maybe this was just another one of his relocations, spurred on by the recent media attention.

Letting out a tired sigh, Mikan stepped into the lift, watching the numbers climb as she rode to her floor. The quiet hum of the machinery was oddly comforting after the chaos of the past few days. When she reached her apartment, she unlocked the door and stepped inside, the stillness greeting her like an old friend.

She set her groceries on the counter and began putting them away, her mind still drifting to the events of the past week. The photo, the reporters, the questions—it had been exhausting.

As she closed the fridge, Mikan took a deep breath, steadying herself against the tide of thoughts threatening to overwhelm her. This is how it should be, she told herself. The contract was fulfilled, the concert a memory now. Whatever had happened between her and Natsume—if anything had truly happened—was nothing more than a fleeting moment in the whirlwind of her life.

Later, curled up on the couch with a steaming cup of tea, her eyes drifted to the phone resting on the coffee table. It sat there, silent and still, yet somehow it seemed heavier tonight. Would he really disappear without a word? The question lingered, its weight pressing against her chest.

She leaned her head back, closing her eyes against the quiet hum of the apartment. If he’s gone, he’s gone, she told herself firmly. And if Luca has moved on, then that’s just the way it is. Life doesn’t stop for unanswered questions.

Mikan opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, the faint hum of the city outside breaking the stillness. A part of her wanted closure, an ending that felt more defined, but perhaps this was the ending she was meant to have.

With a small, resigned smile, she set her cup down and pulled a blanket over her lap. Life would move forward, as it always did. Tomorrow, she’d wake up, go to work, and face the world as she always had.